#YES OF COURSE THERE'S GOING TO BE A LINE ABOUT THEM COMPARING IDENTICAL DICKS WHY WOULD THERE NOT BE??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kopikokun · 4 years

Text

Pity Party Crasher༄ nakamoto yuta

↳ Just great. You’ve just been dumped at this stranger’s party and all you want to do is curl up in a corner and cry, which is... exactly what you do. To your surprise though, there’s been an uninvited guest to your pity party.

pairing: nakamoto yuta x reader

content: fluff, comfort fic, alcohol consumption

wordcount: 1912 words

author’s note: ehehe can you guys guess who yuta’s supposed to be? also, this is a little rushed which i hope you can forgive me for since it was supposed to be short but turned into a full oneshot

— 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝.

They don’t seem to stop. No matter how many times you swipe at your puffy eyes, the tears keep pouring down in a constant stream, falling in droplets onto the fabric of your costume and no doubt smearing your makeup beyond all repair.

People are starting to stare, you realise which does nothing to boost your crumbling self-esteem at the moment. Nobody even bothers to approach you and ask you what’s wrong. All they do is ogle at you like you’re some sort of strange creature at the zoo. But then again, if someone walked up to you right now and asked you what’s wrong, you’d probably start bawling like a baby and humiliate yourself further. Even so, you wish at least someone here bothered enough to ask you if you were okay. Call it selfish, but you really wish you had someone to turn to right now.

All this extravagance does not faze you though. The second the toilet door locks with a click, shielding you from everybody’s eyes, you make a beeline towards the toilet--well, one of the two toilets--flip the lid shut and fall into it. You tuck your knees to your chest, burying your face as you finally allow a sob to wrack through you.

In the back of your mind, the self-assured, rational part of you knows that this is dumb. That foul man doesn’t deserve your tears after what he’s done. He doesn’t deserve even another ounce of your energy or another second of your time. He deserves absolutely nothing from you, and you know that for a fact, yet the tears are still hot and wet as they continuously trickle down your cheeks.

How embarrassing, you think. Here you are, looking nothing short of stunning in your Halloween costume, isolating yourself in some stranger’s bathroom, mascara running down your face all because your no good boyfri--ex-boyfriend, stood you up and proceeded to dump you over text, leaving you completely alone at this party filled with people you’ve never met because he had pleaded for you to go. God, just thinking about it makes your blood boil.

Your very own pity party is swiftly sabotaged when you hear the unmistakable sound of a shampoo bottle dropping and a barely whispered, “Crap!” coming from none other than the bathtub.

At this sudden intrusion, you immediately lunge to your feet, grabbing onto the nearest available weapon (which is a hairbrush in your case) and soundlessly tiptoe towards the source of this mysterious sound.

You pause, swallowing dryly. “Hello? Is there somebody there?”

The shower curtains almost immediately slide open in response and a scream gets caught in your throat as you raise the hairbrush menacingly over your head, in what you think is the best position to strike this person in.

“Woah! Oh my God, calm down!”

The identity of the culprit is revealed, although upon seeing his face you still have no idea who he is and, more importantly, why he was hiding in the bathtub. The stranger has his hair dyed a bright, almost neon pink, and little equally as pink antennas sticking out of his head. It’s painfully obvious they’re handmade by how asymmetrical they look, but you applaud the effort. He has his hands up defensively as he peers at you with caution, like you’re some feral, untamed creature, though to be fair, you probably look like one. All this while, this weirdo is still perched in the bathtub.

“What are you doing in here?” you hiss, letting the hand which was holding your makeshift weapon fall limp to your side. The man’s shoulders visibly loosen.

“Look, I know how weird this looks--”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“But I genuinely didn’t mean to be here and listen in on you,” he says. “In fact, I was here first.”

While that statement is true, his argument just leaves you with more questions. “Okay, but why the hell were you camping out in the bathtub of all places? Who does that?”

The man smiles sheepishly. “Look, I have my reasons.”

You expect him to explain himself, but oddly, he keeps quiet. You tap your foot impatiently and cross your arms like a disappointed mother reprimanding their child. “Okay, well, do feel free to explain these reasons.”

“Okay, well, you might want to take a seat for this one,” he says, gesturing to the toilet you were previously sat on, and you can’t help but snort. Nevertheless, you take this peculiar man’s advice and sit back down on the cold, hard toilet lid. “So, long story short, some guy out there really wants to kill me.” He pauses for extra affect. “In the most agonising way he can come up with.”

You physically recline back in what can only be shock. “Oh, wow. You’re serious?”

“Excuse the pun, but yes, I’m drop-dead serious.”

You furrow your brows. “Well, that’s dumb. Why’d you choose to hide out in here of all places then? Why not just go home?”

The man’s mouth hangs open, almost like he’s about to say something in retaliation before he promptly shuts it. “Hey, you know what?” he says, head tilted. “I didn’t think about that.”

You roll your eyes at his confession, though you can’t wipe the amused smile from your face. You briefly wonder exactly why this man is on someone’s hitlist. But you think that asking that question would only lead to equally--if not stranger answers.

“What about you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why are you camped out here in the bathroom?”

You chew on your bottom lip, sudden anxiety beginning to grip onto you. You didn’t expect him to ask that. No doubt he had heard your heaving sobs through the flimsy material of the shower curtain, but you didn’t expect him to ask any further questions. Really, you were sure he was just going to brush it off and pretend like nothing ever happened, and that you were just in the toilet for more normal toilet-like business.

“I mean,” he leans on the wall behind the bathtub, “you don’t have to tell me anything. I totally get that. But if you want to say something, I’m willing to listen. I’ve got a lot of time to kill. Excuse the pun. Again.”

You smile softly. You’re not sure what exactly compels you to confide in this stranger, maybe it’s the genuine concern present in his voice, the delicate look in his eyes behind those green-tinted glasses, or maybe it’s just the fact that he’s somehow made you at least chuckle, just moments after your breakdown, which in the moment, was something you thought you’d never be able to accomplish, at least for another week.

“I--” you start, searching for the right words to say. “I got dumped by text by my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend,” you correct yourself. “And I didn’t even want to be at this dumb party to begin with. The guy had the gall to beg for me to come, and fucking dumped me after I dressed up and everything. Through text.” Crap. You can feel them coming. Another onslaught of fresh tears bombards you. You try your best to suck them back in, but a few stray ones stream down your cheeks.

“What a dick. Without a doubt, I can tell that you’re way above his league. He’s just a fucking prick.” Somehow, him dissing your ex-boyfriend makes your chest feel a little lighter. “But hey, are you okay?”

You angrily swipe your tears away with the back of your palm. “Yeah, whatever. I’m over it.” You know that’s a lie. But it’s more of a lie to fool yourself into believing than the man before you.

“If it makes you feel any better, the guy who’s trying to kill me is actually my girlfriend’s boyfriend.”

“What?” you sputter. You blink back your visible shock. “You mean you were seeing some girl who’s already in a relationship?” You can’t hide the evident disgust on your face.

“No! No! Of course not. I’d never do that!” he almost yells, appalled you’d ever accuse him of such a heinous act. “You know me better than that.” Again, his antics bring a humoured snort out of you. “I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. I thought she was single. At least, that’s what she told me, but obviously, she was lying. She didn’t think I’d be at this party, so she brought along her boyfriend and now he’s found out and he’s trying to murder me, hence why I’m in the bathtub.”

You grimace. You should definitely offer him some consolation. It’s the least you can do after what he’s done for you. “Are… Are you okay?” you find yourself repeating his line of question back to him.

The man grins lopsidedly. “Yeah, I’ve drowned all my sorrows in alcohol and,”--He reaches into the bathtub before pulling out and entire bottle of some expensive looking champagne--“I’ve got more.”

You snort. “You stole the alcohol?”

“In my defence, this is so little compared to what’s out there that I really doubt anyone noticed.” He shrugs. “Plus, have you seen the size of this house. I mean, take this bathroom for instance. There’s two sinks! Who the hell needs two sinks? Even if I stole a truckloads worth of alcohol--which trust me, I was tempted to do--that would barely scratch the surface of this guy’s no doubt massive alcohol collection.”

You slump in your seat. “You know what? A truckload of alcohol sounds really nice right now.”

“Is that you telling me that you’re willing to help me in my alcohol heist?”

You laugh. “What? I didn’t say that… Although, my little hands could probably hold a bottle or two…”

The man leaps from the bathtub, outstretching his hand to you. “Alright then, come along my partner in crime. I’ve got some crisps in my car and we’re getting wasted tonight.”

“You’re just inviting a stranger into your car?” you tease. “What if all of this was just some extravagant ploy to get me close enough to kill you?”

The man grins cheekily, rouge beginning to dust his cheeks from the alcohol he’s consumed. “I wouldn’t mind being murdered by such a pretty girl.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you scoff, a bit taken aback by this brazenly flirtatious comment. Admittedly, you’re not opposed to it.

You place your hand in his, and his smile broadens as his hand tightens around yours. His smile is infectious, you find.

“And what might be my partner in crime’s name, may I ask?”

The man laughs as he tugs you from your seat, and it’s the nicest laugh you’ve ever heard.

“Nakamoto Yuta. My name is Nakamoto Yuta.”

“Well, Nakamoto Yuta,” you grin, “lead the way.”

160 notes · View notes

my-sherlock221b · 3 years

Text

Supernatural Rewatch Ramblings: Wendigo

Wendigo

The long line of the MoTW series in Supernatural starts off with the Woman in White which is fairly well- known legend/ myth in most countries. Then we get this one next which claims origin from the Native American mythology.

Here is a review of the Wendigo episode with thoughts from me and @soulmates-for-real

I have always wondered why they were not so inclusive or better at being inclusive as a show. Yes, they did have many women and people of colour in important and strong roles, both positive and negative (though they could have done so much better!). But they steered clear from some of the huge mythology lores like that from Native Americans, Hindu, Latin American cultures. This may have been a wise political strategy to avoid conflict and so they stuck to the Judeo- Christian core but still managed a rather radical take on it!

Spoiler alert:

*God was the final villain?! Who would have guessed? And that the angels were dicks, relentlessly, and demons were in fact ex-humans.*

So back to Wendigo.

What a monster the Wendigo is!! In later seasons when we got only angels and demons and some vampires etc the other monsters were monsters in and of themselves. Like they were born that way—needing to eat human pituitary glands or whatever.

But Woman in White and Wendigo, and even Dead in the Water, or the Shapeshifter --the monster was created by circumstances. Betrayal and infidelity leading to murder suicides, extreme starvation leading to cannibalism and eternal hunger.

Far more terrifying than someone who is born a ghoul perhaps.

So here we are in Wendigo, at the forest/camp site with these fake, charming, rather useless camp rangers who carry M&Ms (nice touch and throwback to E.T. !), don’t wear shorts ( which anyway seems like a weird thing to wear when there is grass and stuff—why would you want to expose your legs?!), can’t see bear traps ( Seriously Dean?! ).

Sam is still restless and bristling at Jess’s death, as well as angry at Dad. All those years of separation do not seem to have given him any peace in his relationship with his father. Now to add massive insult to his already injured sense of self—he has lost his girlfriend in exactly the same way as his father lost his wife—making them even more identical.

So he is cranky and unwilling to give in to any of Dean’s suggestions. He denies his own nightmares, refuses good advice and food and is generally misanthropic. While Dean on the other hand seems to be enjoying this like a happy jolly road trip. The monster is almost like a secondary priority now.

What is most important, (and this becomes even more obvious in a re-watch post finale)—what is THE most important thing is that Sammy is riding shotgun, is in front of his eyes and safe.

Miserable and bitchy but safe.

That allows Dean to dial back a bit and bring into focus what has always been, for him, the really important part of their lives—saving people. This is always more important to him that hunting things. So, when he finds out about someone’s brother being lost and the coordinates match what his dad has left, well there is no choice really.

They have to find a way to save him.

If they find Dad there, well, good, but that is suddenly not a priority for him at all. He turned up at Sam’s doorstep, and as we know from the finale, waited there for HOURS since he was unsure of his welcome, then broke in at 3 am or something like an idiot….but anyway…..all that was because Dad had been away on a hunting trip and hadn’t been home in a few days…blah blah blah.

The first contact Dean makes with Sam who left home to go to college is to recruit him to help find Dad—the same guy who told Sam that if he went away to stay away.

And then suddenly now that Sam is with him, finding Dad is like meh. If we find him somewhere by the wayside while you and I hunt monsters Sammy, then yeah sure, great.

If not…well….we have stuff to do you and I…saving people, hunting things. The family business.

And John Winchester….well, what can I possibly say about him without taking up pages in ranting?! Why did he ditch the first monster? Why was he in SUCH a hurry to leave that he left his journal behind??

My theory of course is that he had to run away from the Woman in White since he had been unfaithful to Mary ( yes yes I know it had been YEARS at that point, but hello, this man made his life a crusade for revenge and sacrificed his kids’ lives also to that darkness, so…yes, being with Adam’s mother was an infidelity and you can’t change my mind on that !).

So naturally John was afraid he would be killed.

But still….he left coordinates for the next hunt in the journal and just ran off?!

The other question is what the hell is happening in motels across USA? Guys like these can just check- in on fake credit cards, leave a room full of satanic and serial killer-y documents, sometimes dead bodies, lots of salt at the door and windows, and just disappear without checking out….

Though the police do seem quite alert and swift in action in the Pilot compared to some of the laidback and clueless ones we see later.

What is most interesting is to see the character of season 1 Dean emerge.

He sass, he boss, he flirt, he lie, he charm, he fight, he save.

In fact, the very first time I saw Supernatural, it seemed that Dean occupied so much of the narrative space that I barely noticed Sam except as a foil to and a brother to Dean.

Now in the re-watch what is fascinating in retrospect is to watch Sam slide into ‘the life’ without a hiccup. He reads the journal, he figures out it’s a wendigo, he gets the civilians to cooperate, he also fights and saves.

And that look he gives Dean in the car?

Well, those who missed the signs in Pilot and didn’t ship Wincest from day one, surely started doing it then!

https://www.geekgirlauthority.com/supernatural-rewatch-s01e02-wendigo/

This is also the first episode that gives a clear parallel to the Sam and Dean relationship through the B plot. When Haley says she MUST go to find her brother –Dean nods in instant understanding while Sam is pissed off at having to ‘babysit.’

We see this in many more episodes in the future, and what is fascinating is to see Sam gain insights into his brother with every such parallel. To recognize what being the big brother has meant to Dean and how much he has done and given and even suffered for that. We will discuss this in more detail in the next episode review! ( Dead in the Water)

The chemistry and ease, almost a fluid sense of flow between the two actors is unmistakable in this episode. Even as Sam is really being a bitch and Dean is being a jerk, there is a definite undercurrent of something holding them together. It may be all about revenge for Jess’s death and finding Dad for Sam, but he will still stick with Dean and want to protect him as fiercely as Dean wants to protect Sam.

Sheila O’Malley has given a detailed explanation for the acting styles of Jared and Jensen and what she said about Jared is spot on and brilliant. He does what she calls active listening.

It is amazing how once you realize that you notice it all the time.

The reason why Dean can manage such perfect comedic timing or non- verbal communication is because Sam is always ALWAYS tuned into him. Listening, watching, reacting, observing.

Once again, for those of you interested in the meta and more erudite and informed reviews that this one 😊 do read what Sheila O’Malley has written.

Here are some excerpts which will entice you!

“David Nutter, who directed the pilot, also directed episode 2, and there’s a new DP here, the phenomenally talented Serge Ladouceur, who is still shooting the show. If the DP for the pilot, Aaron Schneider, helped establish the dark mood and horror-movie feel of the series, then Ladouceur just helped deepen and strengthen that continuum. The look of the show has changed, by Season 9. I would say that it has a more glamorous look now, more colorful, while certainly still very dramatic (even melodramatic). Supernatural is (and has been) one of the best looking shows on television.”

“The ranger comes in to talk to them, and they pose as environmental studies majors at the university in Boulder. Sam says they are “working on a paper”, clearly improvising, and you can watch the glorious schtick of Jensen Ackles as he adjusts to the new information of who he is supposed to be pretending to be. God is in the details, people, and it’s the detailed scene work of both Ackles and Padalecki that keeps this show going. David Nutter referred to Jensen Ackles once as a “meticulous actor” in terms of his preparation for every scene, no matter how small, and it pays off. He knows what the fuck he is doing. So does Padalecki. I couldn’t give two shits about the demons. It’s that DYNAMIC that is so entertaining and watch-able.”

And here are some thoughts on the episode from @soulmates-for-real, my partner in crime for the rewatch 😊

Except the fact that Sam is quite secretive about his nightmares but his body language is quite open and his expressions easy to read. On the contrary, I saw Dean posturing a lot with other people, pouting, flirting, making eyes...trying to be all nonchalant. But when it comes to Sam we see a different Dean - the more antsy and angsty Sam gets, the more intensely Dean reacts to him and you can see Dean's concern shining through. Leading to Sam coming to some kind of resolution and giving Dean 'that look' at the end!

#spn #supernatural #spn meta #spn reviews #j2 #wincest #fandom

32 notes · View notes

papermoonloveslucy · 3 years

Text

‘MY GOOD WIFE’ v ‘MY FAVORITE HUSBAND’

June 23, 1949

"My Good Wife," an added starter on KNBC, 6:30 p.m. PST Fridays, is another comedy about a young married couple, as if we needed another one. I must admit this one is a little different. This married couple, Steve and Kay Emerson, are not nearly so fast with a wisecrack as, say, Lucille Ball and her husband on "My Favorite Husband," 9:00 p.m. PST the same night on KCBS. Great night for matrimony, Fridays, and if those two programs don't provide enough for you, tune in Dorothy Dix at 1:45 pm. (not broadcast in west). She'll tell you how to win back an erring husband.

I haven't yet made up my mind whether the Emerson's ineptness at repartee is deliberate - after all, not every young wife talks like Groucho Marx - or whether the script writer isn't very good at it either. Anyhow, whether by accident or design, the Emersons are a very restful young couple, possibly a little too restful to get anywhere in the entertainment world. In radio, they're a real novelty.

As a wife Arlene Francis who plays Kay Emerson, wins out on points over Lucille Ball In other regards - talent and looks, for example - Miss Ball is way out front. But how long could you live with a girl who says: "Oh, we don't miss television. I climb in the Bendix and sing and George looks at me through the little window." Imagine having a girl around the house who said things like that before breakfast. It'd curdle the milk.

STARTS OFF FAST

“My Good Wife" started out at a gallop two weeks ago, NBC deciding to set the stage and get everything out of the way all at once. The first program resembled one at those synopses of previous in installments in the popular magazines. Steve met Kay, quarreled with her, married her, taught her how to drive, learned he was about to become a father, and became one - all in 15 minutes. One minute later, the dialogue went like this:

"It doesn't seem like we've been married 12 years."

"We've been married 10 years."

"Well, that's why it doesn't seem like 12."

That, incidentally, Is a little brighter than the conversation around the Emerson household generally gets.

On the second show of the series, the pace settled down to a walk. During the first few minutes the Emersons and their neighbors lay lazily on the grass, not even talking very much. This may be taking realism too far. I mean there ought to be some crickets chirping or something. Things quickened a bit later when Mrs. Emerson decided she was going to help her husband out with his law practice and, of course, messed things up.

YALE, NO LESS

The Emersons are quite upper middlebrow as radio's young married folk go. He went to Yale, for heaven's sake, and she not only went to Vassar but led the daisy chain or whatever they do with that daisy chain. What is this - counter revolution? Oh, yes, they live in Larchmont up to their ears in other upper middlebrows. I don't know what else to tell you about the Emersons except they sound like a nice young couple to have over for a drink some time but conceivably a little mild to entertain you much on the air.

My favorite young married couple is still Ozzie and Harriet Nelson - I put Goodman and Jane Ace off in another category entirely - and while we're chatting about this sort of thing, I ought to point out Ricky and David Nelson, Ozzie and Harriet's children, are now playing themselves on that program which solves a lot of problems. I have a spy in the Nelson household, named - in case any congressional ears are pricking - Harriet Nelson, nee Harriet Hilliard, and she is not now and has never been a Communist nor worked on the atom bomb nor designed the B-36.

Anyhow, my spy informed the Nelsons had a little trouble with the kids. The real Ricky and David I listened to the radio Ricky and David and discovered them doing things they weren't allowed to do or wouldn't do voluntarily if they were allowed. Being children, they got confused over their own identities. Well now the real Ricky and David are the radio Ricky and David and the split personalities in the kids has been averted. You run into a lot of funny problems in radio.

# # #

FOOTNOTES FROM THE FUTURE

It seems pretty clear that NBC was counter-programming CBS’s “My Favorite Husband”. Not only are the names very similar, they were scheduled on the same night, as critic Crosby points out.

The episode of “My Favorite Husband” described above might apply to any domestic sitcom, but was actually titled “Budget - Mr. Atterbury” broadcast June 3, 1949. However, this newspaper is still calling Lucille Ball’s character Liz Cugat, when her name had changed to Liz Cooper in January 1949, to avoid comparison with the well-known bandleader (no, not Desi Arnaz).

Counter-programming by NBC would not stop on radio. When “I Love Lucy” was a juggernaut hit for CBS TV, NBC created a similar show titled “I Married Joan” for star Joan Davis. It was billed as “The adventures of the scatterbrained wife of a respected city judge.” Substitute “bandleader” for “Judge” (played by Jim Backus) - and you’ve got “I Love Lucy.” Like Ball, Davis was a film star of the ‘30s and ‘40s getting aboard the TV bandwagon. Like Lucy, Joan wanted to be in showbusiness. Many of the same situations that Lucy got into, Joan did too. The series even featured a few “I Love Lucy” refugees: Jerry Hausner, Elvia Allman, Bob Jellison, Margie Liszt, Shirley Mitchell, Ross Elliott, and many others. "Lucy” and “Joan” even employed the same director in each show's first season, Marc Daniels. "Joan” lasted three seasons, from 1952 to 1955 and is all but forgotten today.

Kay Emerson was not the first domestic radio role for Arlene Francis. In 1940, she took over the role of Betty on “Betty and Bob”, which had been the first successful soap opera. She was one of the hosts of the quiz show “What’s My Name?” beginning in 1938. The show was seen as a model for TV’s “What’s My Line?” which premiered in 1950. Francis would stay with the show for its entire run, including six mystery guest appearances by Lucille Ball.

The husband to “My Good Wife” was played by John Conte. From 1944 to 1946 he was married to Marilyn Maxwell (1944-46) who would later appear with Lucille Ball in the 1963 film Critic’s Choice. He had also been seen with Ball (and Maxwell) in As Thousands Cheer (1943). In 1960 he would work for Desilu in an episode of “The Untouchables” (1960).

Unlike “My Favorite Husband’s” mythical mid-Western Sheridan Falls, the Emerson’s livid in the real New York suburb of Larchmont, an affluent village located within the Town of Mamaroneck in Westchester County, New York, approximately 18 miles northeast of Midtown Manhattan. Nearby was the town of New Rochelle, whose most famous fictional resident was Rob Petrie on “The Dick Van Dyke Show” (filmed at Desilu Studios). Danfield, New York, another fictional town in the area, was the residence of Lucy Carmichael and Vivian Bagley for the first three seasons of “The Lucy Show.”

“My Good Wife” began airing in June 1949, and by April 1950 was nowhere to be found. In October 1949, Billboard reported on a new NBC Gallup Poll that placed the show dead last - with 32 stations voting it poor and only 8 saying it was excellent. The future of “Wife” was bleak. The sitcom was cancelled after 18 weeks to make room for the new Jimmy Durante show. Meanwhile, Ball’s “Husband” (on CBS), thrived. Coincidentally, the show was initially a replacement for Red Skelton’s show. Skelton and Durante had both worked with Ball on films.

Crosby’s quote from “My Favorite Husband”

"Oh, we don't miss television. I climb in the Bendix and sing and George looks at me through the little window."

was spoken by Lucille Ball in the episode titled “Television” on June 17, 1949. A Bendix is a brand of front-loading washing machine. The porthole-like window was similar to the size screen of early television sets.

Crosby’s observation that Liz talks like Groucho Marx is attributable to the show’s writers Bob Carroll, Jr., Madelyn Pugh, and Jess Oppenheimer. And let’s not forget that Lucille Ball acted opposite Groucho Marx in Room Service (1938)!

After making the obvious comparison to “My Favorite Husband,” Crosby lets readers know that neither “Husband” nor “Wife” will ever displace “The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriett” in his domestic dome. The show launched October 8, 1944 and a total 402 radio episodes were produced. When it was optioned for television, it was upstart network ABC that made the sweetest deal to the Nelsons.

As Crosby alludes to, their real-life sons, David and Ricky, did not join the cast until the radio show's fifth year. The two boys were played by professional actors prior to their joining because both were too young to perform. Crosby’s allegations of possible identity crisis due to watching their parents with other sons on television, might easily apply to “I Love Lucy”, where the real-life Desi Arnaz often lived in the shadow of the young actors playing Little Ricky on television. Mrs. Ricardo and Mrs. Arnaz giving birth to both boys on the same day only added to the confusion - one that still lingers today.

Crosby declines to compare the aforementioned shows with the popular Goodman and Jane Ace. The real-life marrieds had a show titled “Easy Aces” Goodman Ace cast himself as a harried real estate salesman and the exasperated but loving husband of the scatterbrained, malaprop-prone Jane ("Time wounds all heels"). “Easy Aces” became a long-running serial comedy (1930–1945) but did not make a graceful transition to television, lasting only a few months on the ill-fated DuMont Network. Coincidentally, Martin Gabel, who married Arlene Francis in 1946, had a recurring role on “Easy Aces” during the 1930s.

In a more sarcastic shout-out, Crosby mentions capping off this slew of domestic dithering by listening to Dorothy Dix. Author Elizabeth Meriwether Gilmer (1861-1951) was widely known by the pen name Dorothy Dix. As the forerunner of today’s popular advice columnists, Dix was America’s highest paid and most widely read female journalist at the time of her death. Her advice on marriage was syndicated in newspapers around the world with an estimated audience of 60 million readers. Naturally, radio was not neglected, getting their Dix fix when her column took to the airwaves. Due to Lucy’s insistence on interfering in the Mertz’s personal affairs, Ricky compares Lucy to Dorothy Dix in “Fred and Ethel Fight” (ILL S1;E22) on March 10, 1952.

We haven’t yet mentioned this 1940 gem, but we’ll save that for another time!

#My Good Wife #Arlene Francis #John Conte #My Favorite Husband #Lucille Ball #radio #1949 #I Married Joan #John Crosby #Dorothy Dix #Ozzie and Harriett #Easy Aces #Groucho Marx #Desi Arnaz Jr.#Larchmont NY

2 notes · View notes

gascon-en-exil · 4 years

Text

Bottom Ten Three Houses Characters

I decided after a while that I couldn’t fulfill an anon request to do a top 10 list for the whole series, because it would overlap too much with ones I’ve already done - lord privilege is a thing that exists, and I’ve ranked those before - and because it’s really difficult to compare so many characters (~600 if we’re being thorough) across so many different games. Instead I decided to go negative with it, although around 2/3rds of these ought to be totally uncontroversial at least in my corner of the fandom. Starting from the one I dislike least:

(Dis)honorable Mention: Anna, for putting in such a lackluster showing that she doesn’t deserve a spot on this list despite technically being in the playable cast. It’s not only the lack of supports, although that hurts, but also how obvious it is that the writers have no new material for her. Anna’s gimmick worked fined when she was an NPC and perhaps for the space of a single game as a playable character, and Fates originated the meta idea of making her paid DLC so you have to shell out real money to use her, but that’s the extent of her here too. As a unit she’s far from spectacular, and her paralogue isn’t even good for much but a ton of (mostly mediocre) drops and a tiny bit of context for that Pallardó guy from non-CF Chapter 13. Here’s a revolutionary idea: for the next original FE it might be good to have Anna back to being only a wacky dimension-hopping NPC shopkeeper.

#10 Constance - It pains me that she’s on this list, more than anyone else by far. I really wanted to like Constance, and at first glance she’s right up my alley as a haughty impoverished aristocrat coping awkwardly with her diminished status. I like the dark flier class she’s built around, and her default personality is an even louder pre-timeskip Ferdinand whom you know I love. However, it’s that “default personality” bit that sours me on her, because she’s got two of them. What could have been an interesting take on Constance’s struggles with identity and self-esteem in the wake of her family’s disgrace is presented in such an over-the-top comedic manner that it’s impossible to take her very seriously. It’s more reminiscent of FE13′s Noire than anything, and at least she has the excuse of a mother who performed dark magic experiments on her and fractured her psyche. Constance also supports Jeritza and yet somehow they do no more than lightly allude to their personality issues which is as much a missed opportunity as you can get with such a terrible character (see below), opting instead to try softening Jeritza with his fondness for roses. Lovely.

#9 Leonie - Fandom exaggerates her Jeralt fixation, although it does pop up at the worst times (see: her Byleth support right after his death). As I’m not very concerned with Byleth’s nonexistent feelings though this placement more comes down to general indifference. Leonie feels completely disconnected from the rest of the Deer, and although she’s a supposed reflection of the house’s more egalitarian bent there’s nothing connecting her to the politics or larger culture of the Alliance until you learn about her student loan debt. She really is best understood as a Jeralt fangirl first and foremost, which is why perhaps the most surprising thing about her is when reality comes knocking in her endings and it turns out she picked up her mentor’s vices as well. Jeralt himself would be even further down this list were he playable, but as he isn’t I’ll have to settle for side-eyeing all of his adoring fans. Which brings me to....

#8 Alois - Remember that dating sim Dream Daddy that people were talking about a few years ago? The one that willfully misunderstands what the term “daddy” means in gay male spaces to write fluffy dad joke-laden romances intended for a presumably not-gay audience? Alois is the spirit of that game personified as an FE character, which is not something I ever would have thought to know that I didn’t want. He’s got some funny lines here and there, but that’s the most you can say about him when otherwise he’s just passable midgame filler (of a unit type each house including the Wolves already has one of) standing in Jeralt’s imitation Greil shadow. I don’t even mind the platonic S support all that much because it’s still only Byleth, but it occurs to me that just about the only thing that would have made Alois memorable would be if his S support was romantic but he remained married to his wife. I can’t think of a time when this series has allowed the player to indulge in adultery, so even if it had been limited to an option for f!Byleth it would have been a fascinating option.

#7 Cyril - This isn’t about his devotion to Rhea, which is fully understandable given his circumstances. Nor is it about his performance as a unit which in my experience at least is actually rather good for a Donnel/Mozu-style villager archetype. No, what gets me is that he’s a self-righteous workaholic which makes for quite the grating personality trait. I understand that he finds meaning in his work and that he’s got some entertaining supports calling other characters to task for their terrible work ethics or ignorance of the lives of commoners (VW should have really dug more into his back-and-forth with Claude), but the lectures on not interrupting him or telling Byleth to get back to work are as tiresome as they are frequent. It’s petty I know, but one can only hope he grows out of it eventually. At least he doesn’t wear a pot on his head....

#6 Mercedes - Like Constance, she’s the type of character I wanted to like from the start. She’s pious pseudo-Catholic clergy, with a quirky thing with ghosts and some quiet lesbianism with her BFF that I can take or leave but that I know some people really enjoy (and also she’s bi-for-Byleth, but no one talks about that). Unfortunately as I touched on when talking about Marianne in my Top 10 characters list, Mercedes’s appealing points are sharply contrasted against her more annoying ones. The breathy voice acting I can mostly get used to, but her backstory is unnecessarily convoluted - three families and two flavors of evil adoptive father - and as is also true of Constance her association with Jeritza drags her down a fair bit. To this day I still have no idea what we’re meant to make of the Lamine siblings’ dynamic, but Mercedes’s eagerness to overlook her brother’s crimes and unrepentant bloodlust so she can coo over what a sweet boy he is deep down say some pretty odd things about her personal moral code. Maybe it was implied all along with the paranormal fascination that she’s not as orthodox as she appears to be, but the dissonance is real especially in CF where she gets a support line with Jeritza that tries to woobify him and affirms how much she loves him...and meanwhile in monastery exploration she’s wringing her hands over how much she hates the idea of fighting Faerghus and the church. There’s no through line here, and as justification for characters siding with Edelgard go this one is pretty flimsy.

#5 Gilbert - Similar to Cyril, I don’t dislike Gilbert for the reasons that most of the fandom does. Yes, he’s a crappy father, but as I’m pretty indifferent to Annette and to father-child bonding in general I can appreciate the fresh spin he places on the archetype of the devoted knight. In short, he’s a knight who wasn’t devoted and ran away from his duty, and his arc in AM is all about making up for his past failures both to his family and to his liege. This is an angle to knighthood FE doesn’t delve into often, and it makes him an explicit foil of Dedue as explored in their supports. The reason that Gilbert is on this list though in fact has more to do with that opposition, because I am painfully aware that had AM not killed off Dedue by default in service of self-insert romance Gilbert would not have had to be scripted as Dedue’s replacement both as a unit and as a retainer figure. It’s not his “fault” of course, insofar as one can ever blame fictional characters for the actions of their writers, but whenever I’m running AM and have to take those randomized supply run quests from Gilbert instead of the route’s actual retainer I’m reminded of how we were robbed of power couple Dimidue (in AM anyway - CF of all routes delivers on this point). Gilbert could have been father of the year to Annette and freely given Byleth his (grand)daddy dick and it still wouldn’t overwrite the fundamental problem that Byleth screwed over all three AM-exclusive characters in different ways. As to that, well...look at #1.

#4 Raphael - It’s hard to describe just how much wasted potential there is to this guy. Along with Ignatz and Leonie he could have illustrated the greater social mobility of the Alliance and the increased opportunities non-nobles enjoy there, but all three are mostly side characters. He’s repeatedly positive in the face of tragedy and remains motivated by his love for his remaining family, but 90% of his dialogue revolves around either eating or training to the point that he’s arguably the closest FE16 comes to gimmick character writing (something almost every FE is guilty of, but that has come under heavy scrutiny in recent years because of how much Awakening and Fates used it). He has a sweet friendship with Ignatz with even a bit of chemistry that sits in good company with the kind of simply affability he has with almost everyone he supports, but they have a no homo ending involving one of the game’s eternally offscreen characters. He supports Dimitri, but the bara content is thin on the ground and their line stands out as easily the least substantial of the house leaders’ cross-house supports. Even as a unit he’s lackluster, in the same repetitive category as Alois with nothing that makes him really stand out from the other axe-and-brawling guys. Highest HP growth in the game...whee. I’ve seen arguments that Raphael’s simplicity is the source of his charm, and while I can sort of see that he feels like he belongs in a game like the GBA or Tellius titles where characters have a much smaller amount of overall content to their name. In a game like Three Houses the sheer torrent of lines about food and training wear thin quickly.

#3 Bernadetta - see #8 here. To sum up, she’s annoying, her sex appeal falls flat with me and is frankly just kind of confusing, it bugs me that a significant portion of the Ferdibert fandom headcanons her as Hubert’s bestie when the man clearly does not do besties, and the most positive thing I can think to say about is that based on her habit of befriending known murderers among other things she might be a bit of a sociopath. That’s not very flattering, but at least it’s somewhat interesting. Oh yeah, and Edelgard setting her on fire at the Gronder rematch is good for a meme although I suppose that isn’t technically attributable to Bernadetta.

#2 Jeritza - Jeritza sucks. Everyone, apart from the small number of fans into Bylitza for some reason, is aware that he sucks. He’s a bloodthirsty serial killer we’re meant to like because he killed his father to protect his sister and also because he likes ice cream and kittens...and because he’s clearly mentally ill in some way and Edelgard is weaponizing his illness for her war which means all the murder is okay, I guess. Jeritza is like FE7 Karel if he was somewhat important to the plot and that instead of a redemption arc between games he got Karla and some other characters swearing that he’s really sweet deep down and also he can romance the male self-insert - yay. I love the line of thinking sometimes espoused in anti circles that M/M Bylitza is the only non-Problematic™ Byleth ship because he’s their only gay romantic S rank partner who’s not one of their students, a loli, or Rhea who is obviously the most evil character in the game. As I’ve mentioned above Jeritza also makes other characters he supports worse by association, although he’s not quite as bad in that regard as #1. Do I even need to bring up the painfully affected voice acting? It’s ironic that the vocal director for the English localization turns in unquestionably the worst performance among the named cast, and I have to assume he picked the role for himself solely because he sounds like an imposing Death Knight and not because his voice is at all suited to the troubled twunk underneath the armor. Just about the only thing that would have salvaged Jeritza for me would be if he and Hubert got to have an epic competition to determine once and for all which of them is more evil. Hubert would wipe the floor with this poser.

#1 Byleth - see here at the bottom. They fail as a self-insert, they fail to be a properly realized character even more than previous Avatars, they damage other characterizations and arcs all over the place, and Three Houses overall would have been vastly improved if they didn’t exist or at least weren’t the PoV character. In that previous post I listed just two reasons why I still prefer Byleth to Robin as an Avatar, one being that their significance to the plot is set up before the game even begins and the other being that their lack of a voice makes f!Byleth a less obtrusive presence when it came time for me to have her S rank all the guys to fill out the support log...not enough to where I could treat her as a self-insert, but any amount helps. I do however have to add a third small bit of praise for Byleth, in that they apparently drive antis up the wall for the most asinine of reasons which is always entertaining to witness. I recall when this game’s school setting was first revealed that everyone in the fandom nodded their heads and made the easy prediction that there would be teacher/student sex because that’s just how FE rolls, but somehow still there’s outrage over it. Even so, Byleth is horrible by every significant parameter, and it’s a shame we’ll only be able to imagine what FE16 would have been like had the developers not felt the need to write the whole thing around an Avatar.

#Fire Emblem #FE16 #Fire Emblem Three Houses

21 notes · View notes

iatethepomegranate · 5 years

Text

Homecoming Chapter 25

Masterlist

Pairing: DickTiger

Rating: Teen (this chapter)

Length: 3.3k

Summary: Tiger gets his communicator and an existential crisis. Dick gets a phone call. They also carpool into the city for a debrief and an appointment.

Notes: Can someone other than me please post in the DickTiger omg I’m trying to keep a weekly schedule but it looks like I’m taking over

Warnings: anxiety, allusions to the torture

****

Chapter 25

“Here you go.” Tim passed Tiger an earpiece. “All yours.”

“I still can’t believe Bruce literally offered to give you one,” said Stephanie. “Is he okay?”

Tiger looked at Dick. “Well? Is he okay?”

Dick snorted, which had always been oddly endearing. “I mean, he’s being nice which is always weird but I’m pretty sure he’s fine.”

Tiger pressed the earpiece into place. Tim passed him a wrist computer disguised as a watch, which he used to tune the communicator to his first Spyral frequency.

“Dick asked nicely,” Jason said. “Of course he gave it to you.”

“I didn’t actually ask Bruce to give Tiger a communicator,” Dick corrected. “I just insisted we include Helena.”

“Same thing.”

“And I wasn’t fucking nice about it.”

Jason laughed. Dick glared. No one took him seriously.

“It’s cute when he tries to be serious,” said Stephanie.

“No, it is laughable,” said Damian.

Tiger left Dick to the mercy of his siblings and stepped into the hallway. He called Helena, who answered immediately.

“There you are. I was wondering if you’d forgotten about me.”

“You are a hard woman to forget,” Tiger replied.

“Aw, is Dick teaching you how to charm a lady?”

“Do you find him charming? I do not.”

“You’re fooling nobody,” Helena replied.

Tiger resisted the temptation to retort. “I have arranged a meeting with Checkmate next Thursday at thirteen hundred hours in Gotham City.”

“During the day? Huh.”

“Which means most of my current associates will not be available to provide backup.”

“So you’re asking me? I’m flattered.”

“Helena.”

“Relax. I’m available. I’ll get in touch with your people and arrange logistics.”

“My people?”

“Your boyfriend’s people. His father specifically.”

“I knew that.”

“No, you didn’t.” Helena chuckled. “I’ll see you on Thursday.” She ended the call.

Tiger leaned against the wall behind him. He did not know how he felt about returning to Checkmate, only that it caused an unpleasant jittering sensation in his stomach.

Actually, he did know how he felt about it: awful.

Tiger had not been a standard agent for years. Now that his undercover mission was over, he did not feel a need to return to the way things had been before.

Even though his hands shook whenever he touched a gun and he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in so long he’d lost count, he would not trade that for a return to life before the Spyral mission. The realisation felt strange. Losing the ability to take orders and carry them out, no questions asked, no sleep lost… it felt like he’d lost a part of himself. A part of his identity.

And yet…

If he compared how he felt now to how he’d felt before going undercover…

Strange.

He was happier now. In an odd way. Checkmate had recruited him from Afghanistan when he was barely eighteen. He’d been old enough to fight, old enough to have a fearsome reputation, and yet…

He’d been so young.

So confused.

He was still confused today, but about different things. Perhaps confusion was a part of who he was. Well, at least that hadn’t changed, even if the source of his confusion had.

The young Tiger King of Kandahar had hidden his confusion, his uncertainty, behind fighting. There had always been someone to defend, or someone to punish. He’d taken the name given to him for his deeds in the place of his birth and fashioned it into a mask. Armour. That title became his identity. It still was, but in a different way.

The name Tiger felt like a comfortable old coat these days, worn in all the right places. The original occasion for which he’d first donned it had ceased to matter many wears ago. It was his, and that was enough. Somewhere along the line, it had stopped being a barrier and started being him.

In fact, it felt less like an old coat and more like his own skin. He owed some of that to Checkmate, but most of it had changed because he had changed.

In many respects, Spyral was equally as responsible… if not more so.

His feelings were beginning to make more sense. Checkmate felt like a step backwards. The Tiger who’d joined Checkmate was not the same Tiger who was set to return.

Given the emotional state he’d been in when he’d volunteered to infiltrate Spyral, that was an improvement. It felt strange calling post-traumatic stress an improvement.

Well, in reality, it wasn’t his trauma that had changed him. That had simply come along for the ride, as Dick might say.

Tiger had grown up quickly, but only now was he finding true maturity. He’d felt so worldly when he’d joined Checkmate. Perhaps that was youth. Perhaps it was fighting the Taliban from a young age. Perhaps both.

In truth, he’d known very little. In many respects, he felt he knew less now.

“Hey,” Dick poked his head out the door. “You’ve been gone a while. Everything okay?”

Tiger nodded. “I was thinking.”

Dick joined him at the wall. “Oh?”

“Do you find that as you grow older, you know less?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“Do you think it is normal?”

“Yeah, I do.” Dick leaned his head on Tiger’s shoulder. Tiger held very still so he wouldn’t move. “We’re getting wise in our old age, T.”

Tiger couldn’t hold back a laugh; he found it harder to control these days, especially when Dick knew how to get under his skin. “Yes, you do look very old.”

“Yeah, and you’re about to collapse into dust yourself.”

“Well, my joints make noises they never used to make. Perhaps that time is almost upon me.”

“Or you could just stop getting your ass kicked every few weeks. I’ve heard good health keeps you young.”

“I would not know.”

Dick laughed, sliding his hand into Tiger’s. “Anyway. What brought this on?”

“I was thinking about Checkmate. I was barely eighteen when they recruited me in Afghanistan.”

“And I bet you thought you knew everything.”

“To be fair, I had repelled my fair share of Taliban attacks.”

“Okay, that’s pretty impressive. Some cockiness is to be expected.”

“I may also have wrestled a tiger.”

“Shit. Really?”

“You will never know if I’m telling the truth.”

“You bastard,” Dick murmured.

“I volunteered for the Spyral mission,” Tiger said. He hadn’t set out to share that information, but maybe he’d needed to say it. He’d had few opportunities to talk about it with anyone.

Dick looked up at him; there was some kind of tension behind his eyes that made Tiger suspect he would have another migraine soon. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

“Not much of one. I was well-respected in Checkmate, but I wanted to get away.”

“So you volunteered for a deep cover mission. Naturally. Why did you want to get away?”

That wasn’t something Tiger liked to think about. He already regretted opening his mouth. He wondered if his reason was still with Checkmate, or whether things had changed there as well.

Dick took the hint. “Ah, well. Story for another time? I’m a great listener.”

“I know.”

***

The worst of the migraine had passed, but Dick still winced whenever he saw too much light. Or heard anything louder than a whisper. Tiger was elsewhere; Dick didn’t like anyone seeing him like this, even if he could tolerate another person’s presence when the pain was at its worst.

He sat on the bed in the dark, slowly sipping a glass of water. Tension still bunched in his muscles; he’d learned from experience that it wouldn’t go away properly until he found the strength to move around and stretch. For now, though, he’d just have to deal.

His phone vibrated, which set his teeth on edge. Tim had messed with the settings so the backlight didn’t hurt as much when he looked at the screen, but he still had to do it quickly. It was Kory.

She didn’t call very often. He picked up right away and put the phone on speaker so he could keep it away from his aching head.

“Hello?”

“Dick?”

“The one and only.”

Kory let out a breath. “Oh, X’Hal. It’s true. You’re back.”

“Back and better than ever,” Dick said dryly; he wasn’t sure she’d pick up on the sarcasm, but he guessed it didn’t really matter. “Jason run his mouth?”

“Who else?”

“Good point.”

“You sound tired. Are you okay?”

“It’s been a long few months. I’ll be fine.” A phone conversation wasn’t the ideal platform to hash out what exactly had been going on and why he sounded half-dead. “How are you doing?”

“I’m well.”

“Seen Roy lately?”

Starfire chuckled. “Yes. He just left.”

“Tell him I say hi next time you see him… which I’m sure will be soon.”

“Dick…”

“I’m not mad, Kory. We’ve both moved on. Go forth, be merry.”

“You say the strangest things.”

“You talk to Jason on the regular. I think your opinion of strange is a bit skewed.”

“You’re probably right.” Kory hummed softly. “Jason says you’re living with your family again.”

“Yeah, some stuff went down on the tail end of my mission. Needed to find my feet.”

“Yes, your mission.” Kory’s voice hardened. “The mission where you faked your death.”

Dick sighed; he should’ve expected this. “I’m sorry I put you through that. Just because I needed to be dead in the eyes of the public didn’t mean I needed to be dead to the people I care about.”

“I’m glad you’ve realised that.” She still sounded pissed. That was valid.

“You ever find yourself in Gotham?” Dick asked. “We should talk properly. Face to face.”

“I might be in the neighbourhood next week. To visit Jason.”

“And if we happen to bump into each other, that’ll be a happy coincidence.”

“Yes.”

“Text me the details. When you have them.”

“I will.”

“And I’ll give the big guy some warning so he doesn’t get mad about metahumans in the city again.”

Kory laughed. “Is he always like that?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll see you later.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Dick set the phone aside and pressed his fingers into his temples. It had been easy enough to block out the pain while talking to Kory, but now it was coming back with a vengeance.

Still, he was glad for the phone call. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Kory. And the last time she’d seen him was at his funeral. Not exactly conducive to conversation.

It would be good to see her. He still loved her, in a way, but the need to have her to himself had long since dissipated. Enough time had passed that he could genuinely be happy for her when she saw other people.

Yeah. Now was a good time to clear the air between them. If things went well, maybe she’d like to meet Tiger.

***

The day to visit Checkmate came before Tiger was prepared for it. Even the morning prayer had done little to soothe his nerves.

It didn’t help that Dick was coming off another migraine. He made it to breakfast with Tiger, but neither of them had much of an appetite. Tiger had told Dick to go back to bed several times, but he refused.

“Good news,” Dick said quietly, picking at the fruit salad Alfred had made. “We’re carpooling today.”

“This is the first I am hearing of it.”

“Only got confirmed last night,” Dick said. “I’m seeing a specialist in Gotham, so Alfred’s driving both of us into the city. We’ll drop you off first.”

“Are you sure you are up to this?”

“The sunglasses aren’t just for decoration.” Dick patted his shirt pocket. “I’ll manage.”

Tiger had to admit having Dick close for the journey made him feel better. He stopped protesting.

“Does this specialist know what they are doing?” Damian said, stabbing a waffle with his usual fervour.

“It’s the same guy who stopped my head exploding on a near-nightly basis,” Tim replied. “He’s legit.”

“Your migraines are a result of inferior genetics, Drake, not a torture machine.”

Tim looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “Thanks.”

Damian eyed him for a moment longer, until he evidently decided Tim was not going to react the way he wanted him to. Then Dick caught his eye and raised an eyebrow.

Damian scowled. “I apologise, Drake.”

“Sure.” Tim said absent-mindedly, more focused on his coffee.

“Anyway…” Dick finally picked up some pineapple on his fork. “I don’t know if the specialist can help, but I’m willing to give it a shot. At this point, I’ll try anything.”

Dick looked exhausted. Tiger knew for a fact he was, in fact, as tired as he looked. Neither of them had slept well last night. Dick was abstaining from coffee and Tiger did not need caffeine shakes, so there was no respite on the horizon.

Once it was time to leave, they’d both managed to choke down some breakfast. Cassandra had gone ahead to meet Helena; they would remain near the building but would not enter unless absolutely necessary. Tiger did not need an extra set of eyes over his shoulder. He would be under enough scrutiny already.

He was grateful they would be close by if needed, however.

Dick still flinched in the sunlight, but he appeared to shake it off. They sat together in the back of the car while Alfred drove.

“Should you require an earlier pickup than anticipated, sir,” said Alfred, “call me and I will come. Should you lose access to your phone, I use the family’s communication frequency. Master Dick, if you would…?”

“Sure.” Dick held out his palm. Tiger dropped the communicator in his hand. Dick pressed a few buttons on his watch, frowning. Or perhaps squinting. After a moment, the communicator beeped softly and Dick handed it back.

Tiger put it in his ear. “I may need to surrender my devices.”

Dick made a pulling motion from his watch and a dim holographic display grew from it. He pressed a few holographic keys and then held his wrist close to Tiger.

“Give it a few words.”

“Hello, watch.” Tiger grimaced. “I feel ridiculous.”

The watched beeped and Dick pulled back. “That was enough. Okay, you should be able to program any communicator to patch you into our frequency. You’ll be asked to give voice confirmation. If something really bad happens, which I doubt it will, it’ll also work on all cell phones, Gotham payphones and some kitchen appliances.”

“What?”

“Wayne Enterprises gets everywhere, babe.”

Tiger would never get used to that nickname, but at least it was a pleasant feeling. He still did not feel ready when Alfred parked the car near the nondescript office building that housed Checkmate’s Gotham outpost.

Dick kissed his cheek. “You’ll be okay. We won’t be far. And Cass and Helena will be on hand if something weird happens. Which it probably won’t.”

“Yes, very comforting.”

“Oh, hush.” Dick squeezed both his hands. “You just did them a massive favour. As far as I’m concerned, the least they can do is listen to you about Bannon.”

That name always felt like a lance through his stomach. He nodded silently and slid out of the car.

As they drove off, Dick blew him a kiss out the window. Tiger tried to burn that image into his mind. He could use some encouragement once he was inside.

He approached the glass doors. They slid open for him. He stepped through, heart pounding in his throat.

He paused in the lobby. Breathed. The lobby itself was deliberately dull and sterile. Not the kind of place someone would walk into by accident. Unless they were trying to escape a murderer, Tiger supposed.

The woman at the front desk was a stranger, probably a newer agent who joined after Tiger had gone undercover. She seemed to recognise him anyway and waved him through the next set of doors. Here, things became more interesting.

A security guard passed Tiger a plastic tub. He put his communicator, watch and phone inside. Then he removed his shoes and placed them on the conveyor belt.

“We’ll need to confiscate your electronics,” the guard said. “You’ll get them back when you leave.”

Tiger passed through a body scanner and retrieved his shoes on the other side. He was almost certain Bruce had hidden a tracker on him, but it was clearly disguised enough or of such little consequence that security did not feel the need to search and destroy.

Another receptionist was seated behind another desk, this time close to a pair of grey elevators. “Welcome back, Bishop Five,” he said, stamping a barcode onto the back of Tiger’s hand. “You’re needed on level ten. Have a nice day.”

Tiger stepped into the elevator and tapped the back of his hand against the card reader. Level ten selected itself and the doors sealed him in the elevator.

Tiger fell into parade rest. He shut his eyes and took deep, slow breaths. He had never been to the Gotham City branch of Checkmate before, so it was unlikely he would run into many people who knew him. Maxwell Lord was probably here, and perhaps Amanda Waller, but anyone else? No.

The doors let out a ding and slid open. Tiger stepped out, feeling calmer. He had no reason to feel anxious. He had done his job. All he needed to do was report in and give his recommendations.

And possibly attend an evaluation, which he would likely fail. Then again, it was more likely they would schedule it for another day. If all went to plan, he would not be here for long.

Tiger started down the hallway. The barcode on his wrist would automatically open the correct door once he reached it, and this place was linear. He could do this. Everything would be fine. He had nothing to—

A door up ahead slid open. An agent stepped into the hallway. They locked eyes, and recognition sparked between them.

“Eimal,” Tiger breathed.

“Tiger.” Eimal’s face broke into an uneasy smile. The man was handsome as ever… his dark, intelligent eyes; his nose slightly crooked from being broken one too many times; his thick, black hair…

This was exactly who Tiger had not wanted to see.

Eimal’s smile relaxed, just a small amount. “It’s good to see you.”

Tiger couldn’t answer. He suddenly felt much younger, in the throes of heartbreak once again. That was a dangerous feeling. He made rash decisions when he felt like this. He had to breathe. Had to control it. This feeling was nothing more than the ghost of a relationship long since dead.

He swallowed. “I did not expect to see you here.”

“Lord thought you might like to see a friendly face.” Eimal’s smile turned pained. “I had hoped enough time had passed that…”

Tiger did not know how to respond. He often felt clumsy and slow around Eimal. The man was a few years older and, he’d once believed, much wiser. He had joined Checkmate before Tiger and had been among the first to welcome him. Meeting another Pashtun had helped keep the homesickness at bay for them both.

“The past is the past,” Tiger finally said, hoping he sounded firm. He did not feel firm. He felt like the ground would soon crumble beneath him.

A flash of hurt appeared in Eimal’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly Tiger might have imagined it. “Well, it was good to see you. Don’t keep Lord waiting.” He gestured to the door at the end of the hall.

“Thank you.” Tiger didn’t know what else to say. Eimal stepped aside to let him pass. Tiger felt like he was walking through water. When he turned back, Eimal was gone.

#dicktiger #tiger king of kandahar #dick grayson #grayson comic #fanfiction #my fics #homecoming dicktiger fic

22 notes · View notes

peggy-faces · 6 years

Text

Mad Men rewatch: Season 1, Episode 1: Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

I finally got around to doing this months after I said I was going to start. Don’t say I never keep my promises.

I’m still trying to work out a good format for these recaps/reviews. Having watched this episode so many times before I’m not really sure how to approach this with fresh eyes but I’ll give it a shot. Bear with me, this is a learning process.

This episode is essentially just “24 hours in the life of Don Draper(with some Pete/Peggy hijinks thrown in)”. I genuinely love this and it is the perfect way to be introduced to these characters.

I won’t focus much on Don right now because there’ll be plenty more opportunities down the line, but the thing that struck me in this specific episode was the emphasis on Don’s age compared to Pete and the “younger guys”. 34 is basically a baby by today’s standards. Pete is only 8 years younger than him! Perhaps(?) the role was intended for a man in his 40s but they cast Jon Hamm instead?

A weird thing that’s always bugged me about the pilot. The show seems to set Pete up as someone who wants to take Don’s job. But Pete’s an accounts guy who never really shows that much interest in being in the creative department in the rest of the show.

Also, I’m still not totally sure what was up with Don’s “It’s Toasted” speech. That slogan has existed since the 1910s. Either Mad Men was attempting to retcon history or Don was using it as an example of a good slogan? The commentary tracks seem to suggest it was the former.

Meanwhile, a certain mousy working class girl from Brooklyn is starting her first day of work at Sterling Cooper. Peggy is my favourite fictional character in anything ever and I unironically adore her despite her faults so I’ll definitely have more to say about her in the future especially about her relationships with Don and Joan. But now I’d like to focus on her relationship with Pete.

In the closing moments of this episode, Pete shows up at Peggy’s apartment and she allows him inside, presumably so they can have sex. First of all, how the hell did Pete get her address in the first place. Secondly, Why? Why did Pete go to Peggy of all people? Why did Peggy fuck him? Let’s take a look at their previous interactions in this episode.

1. Pete insults Peggy’s appearance and insinuates that she’s sleeping with Don.

2. Pete lies to get into Don’s office and gets Peggy into trouble with Don on her first day of work.

I like this episode and I do like the Pete/Peggy arc throughout the show and they normally have amazing chemistry together. But this scene feels so inorganic that there was a lot of speculation that Pete and Peggy knew each other beforehand because that would at least make more sense than what we got.

Fun fact: according to the shooting script for this episode(easily Googlable if you want to read it), Pete arrives at Peggy’s apartment at 9:45. Which means Pete’s bachelor party must have ended at 9 at the very earliest in order for him to get to Brooklyn in time. What bachelor party ends that early in the night? And Pete must have spent chunk of time finding Peggy’s address WHICH, AGAIN, WE HAVE NO IDEA HOW HE EVEN FOUND. I like imagining Pete wandering around Brooklyn drunkenly asking random people where “Peggy” lives.

We’re also introduced to Ken, Dick, and Harry. Yes, Paul Kinsey’s name in the pilot was originally Dick but it was changed when it got picked up by AMC. Ken is the weird sleazebag and Harry is the married guy who does seem somewhat decent compared to Kinsey and Ken. Weird how things change, isn’t it? Paul’s the pretentious guy. At least that never changed.

And then, of course, there’s Sal. Hey, did you know that Sal was gay? If you didn't, you probably missed the numerous “subtle clues" that were dropped throughout this episode. And by subtle, I mean so blatant that the only way they could have been more unsubtle is if you could hear Matthew Weiner screaming "heeeeeeeeeeeeee's gayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy" in the background of every shot Sal is in. The most notorious example of this is when Sal randomly drops the line “we’re supposed to believe people are living one way and secretly thinking the exact opposite? That’s ridiculous.” It doesn’t feel organic to the conversation at hand, it just sounds weird. But if you look closely into the reflection in Sal’s eyes you can see Matthew Weiner patting himself on the back and congratulating himself on being such a genius.

But the most cringeworthy line of dialogue in the entire episode goes to: “It’s not like there’s some magic machine that makes identical copies of things.” Which is the sort of line you’d expect in an SNL parody of Mad Men, not the actual show.

The final plot twist of this episode is that we find out that Don is *gasp* married. Yes, this was actually supposed to be a plot twist. But I guess finding out that the dude who just claimed love was invented by capitalism has wife and kids would be pretty shocking if you don’t know what’s coming?

This is getting kinda long so I’ll touch more on Betty, Joan, and Roger in later instalments as they don’t get much to do here, as well as Rachel and Midge.

Random Observations

I really like the very brief interaction between Roger and Joan. I don’t know if there were was already plans for a secret relationship between the two, but it fits in well.

Elisabeth Moss seems to be affecting some sort of mild Brooklyn accent in this episode that doesn’t exist in the rest of the show. Kinda weird but it does make sense that Peggy would try to hide her working class background later on.

Is this guy in the opening scene Pete? Because he looked like Pete when I was watching it on Netflix but when I put in the DVD to listen to the commentary, he didn’t look like Pete anymore. Pete’s evil twin? Pete’s non-evil twin?

Commentary tracks

There are two commentary tracks for this episode. The first has Matthew Weiner and the second has director Alan Taylor. There wasn’t really anything particularly juicy so I just wrote down the BTS stuff that sounded interesting.

The pilot script existed for five years and Matthew Weiner used it as his writing sample when he applied for jobs.

Weiner was planning to play the role of the judgmental gynaecologist himself. Make of that what you will.

This is the only episode of Mad Men actually filmed in New York. The bar in the very first scene is a real bar in Harlem called the Lennox Lounge.

It took them a long time to cast Jon Hamm, partly because Taylor didn’t believe a man that handsome could be interesting.

Taylor calls Midge the most modern person in the show. Her apartment is a real artist’s studio on 57th street. They were warned it would be impossible to shoot there because it was on the seventeenth floor and only had a tiny elevator and no space for equipment. They built a set based on this apartment when they started filming the show in California.

The traffic sounds you hear in the scene where Don wakes up after sleeping with Midge are real New York traffic sounds.

The actors for Kinsey, Ken, and Harry felt they had to bond so they went out to drink together every night. At least that’s the excuse they used.

If you look carefully at the end of the elevator scene with Peggy and the guys you’ll see Rich Sommer(Harry Crane) walk off to the right because he had mistakenly thought they’d already cut. Classic Harry.

Taylor says the scene with Lucky Strike was very reminiscent of Bewitched and I agree, which is why I initially described Mad Men as “Bewitched with less magic and more adultery” when I was first started watching.

Something weird I noticed: Alan Taylor only refers to Matthew Weiner as “the writer”. Bad blood? Can’t remember his name? Guess we’ll find out in the inevitable Mad Men BTS tell-all someone writes in ten years.

The strip club was a real retro-style strip club in New York.

They’d almost completely run out of money by the time they shot the scene of Don on the train so it’s basically just a piece of plexiglass with water dripping down it.

Taylor says he dislikes the use of the song Caravan but I actually really like it.

Overall, great episode, albeit one with some glaring flaws. I give it 7 Scowling Petes of 10.

#tupf mad men rewatch

27 notes · View notes

sandwichbully · 5 years

Text

The Wedge Table (yes, again), 10 November 2018

youtube

One time, Soft Kathryn called me Pasta Boi, a title I cannot deny, as I am, indeed, a pasta boi. Used to be I was a Pasta Slut but the word slut has been contentious for a while and only lately it’s starting to be OK to self-identify as a slut for certain things, like you’re a Train Slut if you fuck with some Amtrak or a Cathedral Slut if you’re down with the Vatican. I don’t know, I say fuck it, play it safe, don’t piss off the SJWs; Soft Kathryn calls me a Pasta Boi, I’m a Pasta Boi. Everybody on board with that? Anybody feel like calling me out for some shit? I’m a Pasta Boi, goddamnit. What problems could you possibly have with the Pasta Boi? ANYhoo, seeing as how I am - Wait. Am I a pasta boi or the pasta boi? We’ll figure that out later. Look, I was out of pasta and it’s 19° Fahrenheit (that’s -7° Celsius for my metric fanbase) and I figured that was a good enough excuse to go back to the Wedge and get that last sandwich. The tuna melt.

Goddamn, that is a blurry-assed photo. Anyway, I know I could’ve picked up a box of spaghetti from Hark’s across the street or even just gone down to the CVS for a box of spaghetti, but it was lunch time and neither of those places have a full-service deli with a limited line of seasonal signature sandwiches. And!? This is tuna melt weather. So I go in there and this time I’m greeted by a bespectacled young woman and I tell her I just need a tuna melt to go, she says sure, hands me my ticket, and I go off to get lost in the (two) racks of food trying to find pasta because, while I am a pasta boi, I’m not seeing the pasta I’m used to: The red and white boxes of Essential Everyday, the green boxes of Creamette, the blue boxes of Buy Any Other Brand But This Homophobic Shit; I’m having that classist crisis again, feeling out of my element, too working class and dumb to figure out how to navigate a co-op, here he is, everybody! Charlie from the Trailer Park! Can’t find his way through the tiniest co-op and doesn’t listen to Vampire Weekend! And then I nut up because, yeah, motherfucker, I am Charlie from Southeast Toledo and guess what: I like Black Sabbath, suck my dick. Where the fuck is the - Oh, here it is. It comes in... bags? Why the fuck - I thought these motherfuckers were supposed to be earth friendly, why is the pasta in plastic bags instead of recyclable cardboard boxes? What the fuck sense does this make? I pick up the pack of spaghetti and I look on the back. Under directions, it says to bring 5oz (150mL and I did that conversion, you’re welcome) to a boil and add 16oz (455g, again, I’m doing the heavy lifting) of pasta and I mutter, “What kind of maniac cooks a whole pack of pasta in one go?” Hell, even as one of a family of four, I don’t think I ever saw my mom cook a whole box of pasta in one go. I mean, maybe she did, it would make sense, there’s fucking four of us but does this manufacturer assume... I mean, who the fuck cooks a whole thing of pasta in one go? Jesus Jehosaphat. Maniacs. Absolute maniacs. So I got the fusili since I’ll be making a simple tomato and garlic sauce tonight that will love those little nooks and crannies to cling to. Yes, I have studied up on pairing my pastas and my sauces because I am a pasta boi, outed and confirmed. Then I grab a blood orange Hi-Ball and go over to the register and some old fart is just standing there with his back to it, not getting the point that I’m trying to get in line, thus a woman just walks around him up to the register and he looks at her and looks at me and looks annoyed - don’t give me that look, motherfucker, I have Aerosmith on vinyl, good Aerosmith, drugged up Aerosmith, I will knock you out in the parking lot. Anyway, nobody’s paying attention to the woman at the register and a line is forming and then one of the guys from the deli says he can get me on the other register and I turn to follow him but then my name is called and I grab my sandwich and I get rung up and I get outside, and I load my bag and I come home.

You and me, we’ve been on an adventure together, haven’t we? A real emotional roller coaster? We've had to deal with inwardly-directed class shame as manufactured by capitalism; we’ve talked about putting our money in the right places, like not certain pasta brands that come in blue boxes; we’ve discussed identity issues as prescribed by a person who identifies herself as an oven but uses she/her pronouns. We have been all over the map so far and I’m sure all you’ve wanted this whole time was to know how the fucking sandwich tasted. You want to know if you should give your money to these people. You want to know how tough of a call it is between Get Your Wings and Toys In The Attic because even though the track listing on Toys... has the obvious bangers, ... Wings has some definite sleeper agents that will fuck you up. For your patience, for your companionship on this journey, mon frer, I will now answer all these questions.

Holy shit, this is the best thing I’ve put in my mouth this week. Now, I didn’t look at the menu too close so, disclaimer, up front, I don’t know what kind of cheese they used. Swiss would be the obvious choice but I looked at the cheese itself and the holes were tinier and not round. I’m guessing, and I’d be surprised if I were wrong, this is havarti. It didn’t have the high-pitched notes of Swiss, either, which would have definitely stood out because, here’s the deal: You could taste everything individually on the sandwich. The tuna salad was creamy and I’m guessing they used an organic mayo because of course they would use organic and 1) this didn’t taste like Hellman’s and I’m a slut for Hellman’s so I would know, 2) this didn’t taste like Kraft, and 3) it didn’t taste like aioli because I detected no hint of extra virgin olive oil. Thus, organic mayo is my guess and it played nicely with the tuna, probably because the mayo to tuna ratio greatly favored the fish, so while I could detect the presence of mayo, what I was tasting primarily in that concoction was the tuna. Appearance-wise, the tuna salad looked like exactly every other tuna salad you’ve ever had: Somebody opened a can, emptied it into a bowl, threw in a dollop of mayo, and beat the shit out of it with a fork until it stopped looking like it was once a thing of flesh and now just shreds of unidentifiable protein. I get it: There aren’t that many ways to make tuna salad, so I’m not going to dock points for the look of the thing. The aforementioned maybe-havarti was smooth and creamy, which is how havarti ought to taste. I thought it could have stood to be a bit more melty, this is a tuna melt after all, and despite my visual inspection and my self-assuredness that this is havarti, the doubt still lingers because while it didn’t taste like Swiss, it didn’t melt like havarti, and we all know that Swiss is a bit obstinate when it comes to melting. It will do it but it takes a bit more cajoling than your softer cheeses like your jacks, your colbies, and, of course, your havartis. Again, probably not Swiss, but there will always be the doubt in my mind. Fuck it. I just looked at the menu. The answer we were looking for was gruyere. Gruyere. Just proving to you, once again, that I am capable of being wrong. I am human and I am just like you. So, yeah, the gruyere was good, even if I didn’t know until just now that’s what it was. It was smooth and creamy, just like havarti. But the important part is that I could taste it separately from and in concert with the other ingredients (even if I couldn’t identify what kind of cheese it was). But the real child star of this made-for-TV adaptation of a beloved series of child detective novels grown up to appear ironically on the convention circuit and still say their cutesy catch phrase thirty years later before snapping and mowing down a gaggle of parents with a hedge trimmer at a Chuck E. Cheese would be the pickled onions, sharp and sour at the same time, balancing out the low creaminess of the tuna salad and the cheese and the midrange of the whole grain bread with high notes in brassy timbres, maybe even acrylic timbres would be more fitting, like Ornette Coleman’s saxophone. It provided what other tuna melts are missing: A full spectrum of notes. This tuna melt was like the Italians at Broder’s and Kramarczuk’s and the Reubens at Colossal Cafe and Tiny Diner: It was perfectly balanced, minimally fucked with. And I know you’re probably rolling your eyes at me raving about a tuna melt and comparing it to some of the best sandwiches in the city but it’s like this: The reason you (and even me) think tuna melts suck is because all we’ve ever been handed is shitty tuna melts. The most creative we’ve ever gotten with them is using Swiss instead of American. Maybe we tried fancifying it by adding capers or putting tarragon in the tuna salad and it just didn’t happen right. And then we’ve walked into the greasy spoon and we see the tuna melt on the menu and we wonder how fresh is that tuna salad and we skip it and if we do order it (with every nervous caution in the world), what we get is a grilled cheese with tuna salad in it. We’ve had nothing but shitty tuna melts our whole lives so it never occurred to us that if we just treated them differently, if we just treated them like they could be good, if we just took a step back and considered the core components and asked what was too much and what was missing and saw this was meant to be different from a grilled cheese with tuna salad in it, we could have a good one. There’s a reason that this sandwich has its own name and isn’t just “grilled cheese with tuna salad” and it’s the same reason we don’t call a Reuben a “corned beef and sauerkraut” or an Italian a “three meat and banana peppers” or a Club “turkey BLT triangles”. It’s a distinct and established entity and, unfortunately, people have stopped treating it like one and instead started treating it like a grilled cheese with tuna salad in it. Not saying the Wedgetable has brought back the sandwich like it’s the fucking messiah, I’m saying that they’ve treated it right. They’ve done right by it. It was a damned good sandwich and I don’t regret paying the eight bucks for it. And what it lacks in size, it more than makes up for in flavor. You can taste everything individually and everything compliments everything else. It’s worth at least one visit in the Wedgetable’s direction, I would encourage you to give them your money. Also, this is, I believe, our first tag for “tuna melt”. Oh and Toys In The Attack has for sure three radio hits but Get Your Wings has “Lord of the Thighs” which is just a thousand percent of your daily recommended dose of raunch, nast, and sweat pressed into wax, so that’s a winner.

youtube

#2018 #Whittier #Tuna Melt #Aerosmith #Pasta Boi

1 note · View note

deadmandairyland · 6 years

Note

Chihiro Fujisaki for the ask~

Thanks for the ask! I probably put way too many words in this. I hope you like reading!

002 | Give me a character & I will tell you

How I feel about this character:

Chihiro is probably my favorite character in Danganronpa. I think there was a time where I would have said he definitely was my favorite, but I have to give credit where credit is due because most of the characters in this series are amazing and uniquely and creatively designed. But Chihiro will always be near the top of my favorites if he somehow isn’t in first place. He is an unsung hero of the series. Without him the survivors of DR1 would have never escaped the school. He is at least in part responsible for the creation of the Neo World Program, which is a key part of the Hope’s Peak Academy arc’s lore. Supplementary materials often show Chihiro being at least somewhat involved in the backstory of the series. As I mentioned back when Absolute Despair Girls came out, Chihiro was basically the Adventure Time snail of the series for a time, showing up in or being mentioned in about as many installments and spin-offs of the series as Junko Enoshima. I’m pretty sure Chihiro has made more appearances in one way, shape, or form than friggin’ Komaeda, and everyone loves Komaeda. (Though screentime, on the other hand, is another story. I think it’s safe to say Junko and Komaeda won out on that end)

All in all, I feel that this is a character who deserves better–not just because he died such a tragic death, but in a meta sense as well. I feel like the series, after building up Chihiro in flavor text for so many installments, decided to backpedal a bit and make him more of a footnote than anyone important. This is especially disappointing considering that when most people talk about Chihiro, most of the time it’s in reference to the gender controversy, rather than his accomplishments in the series. Granted, this is a very important aspect of Chihiro’s character as well, and I’m not going to go out of my way to be a dick to people who say they saw something different in Chihiro than what I saw, but whenever I go through the tags it does seem like Chihiro seems to be one-note to a lot of people, and I feel it is a shame because there is a lot going on there. Themes of inner strength and resurrection and how destructive enforced gender roles and bullying in Japanese high schools can get when taken to the logical extreme. A lot of this seems to be ignored. I mean we all joke about how Chihiro’s birthday is Pi Day, but how many people also realize it’s White Day, the day when boys are expected to give gifts back to girls in response to being given chocolates on Valentine’s Day? Thinking about it that way, it makes you wonder what Chihiro’s birthdays were actually like. With all the talk surrounding Chihiro’s gender, I’m surprised that I’ve never seen anyone speculate on this. Might make for an interesting fanfiction prompt too, regardless of how you view Chihiro’s gender identity.

This got awfully wordy and more political than I expected it to get and I apologize. Though, to be fair, Danganronpa is a very political series… usually. Still, this is just a fun little meme, and I don’t intend to dive head first off a cliff into the sea and jagged rocks of fandom discourse, so let me end this segment by briefly saying another thing I like about Chihiro that will hopefully lift all of our spirits before we move on:

Chihiro is a sweet and adorable cinnamon roll that we do not deserve.

Just look at his smiling face!

No matter how sad I am, that smile will always make me feel a little better, if not outright happy.

All the people I ship romantically with this character:

Well, I could look over the charts I’ve made and find probably a million Chihiro ships (okay that’s a bit of an exaggeration; it’s probably more like twenty, which is still about fifteen too many), so I’m just going to stick with the big ones.

Naegi, Asahina, Sakura, and Ishimaru.

…Maybe Mondo. Maybe Leon. Maybe Mukuro. Maybe real world Chiaki. Maybe Kuzuryu. Maybe that Yukimaru guy who we sadly never get to see. Maybe Miaya… who we sadly never get to see. Maybe a crap ton of others…

But mostly the first four I listed.

My non-romantic OTP for this character:

All of the “maybes” in the previous section.

Am I cheating at this? Yes.

…

My unpopular opinion about this character:

Don’t worry. I won’t be going for the obvious joke. (I mean I better not, especially after that first segment. It would defeat the purpose of that giant wall of text I made you sit through)

Instead I’m just going to remind anyone who thinks Chihiro is overrated and wasn’t an important character that Chihiro vicariously saved Naegi’s life and therefore the other survivors’ lives as well and y’all can suck it.

Also there’s that thing I made a thing in my DR3 fic that I still haven’t finished yet or even updated since November (oh my god it’s May already) where Chihiro is a fan of professional wrestling and that’s now a headcanon of mine that I’m sure very few people have or would agree with.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

This might seem like a cop-out, since this is Danganronpa and all, but I wish Chihiro survived.

To be fair it wouldn’t make sense from a narrative standpoint. Alter Ego is essentially a replacement/doppelganger for Chihiro, so having them co-exist in the story would be jarring. Also Chihiro plays the part of sacrificial lamb perfectly, and the foreshadowing leading to Chihiro’s death is written remarkably well. (Even as far back as the very beginning of chapter two, which occurs immediately after Leon’s execution, Chihiro is distraught over having sent Leon to his death, and Chihiro even says that he would rather die than do that again)

But that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it, damn it.

#LetChihiroLive2018

my OTP:

Naegi x Chihiro. Two adorable cinnamon rolls with heartwarming and occasionally sad Free Time Events that actually tie into the plot in such a way that they actually feel 100% canon. There is also that punch to the gut that happens at the end of Chihiro’s FTEs if you manage to get them all. Naegi’s reactions to Chihiro being gone are also heartbreaking, especially in the anime adaptation which includes this response to Alter Ego being crushed into a ball that I admit there is a possibility I could be taking out of context here but it’s worth mentioning.

“We lost him again.”

And of course, as I mentioned before, Alter Ego saves Naegi’s life later, which means Chihiro saves Naegi’s life, which means Chihiro effectively saves all of the DR1 survivors. Important character is important.

Oh, and also Naegi can give Chihiro a thong for a present, which is still hilarious to me. I mean I know Chihiro isn’t the only character who likes the thong, but even Togami liking the gift isn’t as funny to me as Chihiro liking it. And Togami alone liking it is straight-up absurd. It’s a thong. That you can give as a gift to other people. During a game where people are forced to kill each other in order to escape what is essentially a prison. A thong. The only thing that would make it funnier is if it changed the outcome of School Mode. “Hey, remember this thong you gifted me? I’d like to return it, because it just occurred to me that this is a really weird gift. Why, Naegi? Why did you give me a thong for a gift? You could have given me perfume, or a Kirlian camera, or a portable video game console, or a punk rock T-shirt, but no. You gave me a thong. Why?”

But for the most part, it’s their interactions. FTEs included, I love all of the interactions between these two, both one-and-one and with the group. It always seems like they have each other’s backs and care about each other’s well-being. Chihiro even foreshadows the memory wipe very early on in the game in a way that makes me wonder how close they might have been before the memory wipe.

Also, they’re just sweet to each other and it’s adorable and heartwarming and, y’know, goals. But if you prefer your ships to be more interesting, these two do have that potential what with their baggage and all–Chihiro for obvious reasons and Naegi being just some guy in a relationship with someone who is far smarter, nicer, and more talented than him. So if conflict (though it’d likely be more along the lines of inner conflict, or conflict dealing with others outside the relationship) is what you’re looking for, there is potential for that too, even if we don’t see it very often.

(Honestly I think that’s why there isn’t a whole lot of content of this ship, at least nowadays. It seems like a lot of people ship it, but no one really writes for it much or draws much of it beyond fluff. The ship itself, I think, is seen as too fluffy for engaging storytelling… if you’re not thinking outside the box, anyway)

my cross over ship:

Pick a programmer, a hacker, or an intentionally gender-ambiguous or “otokonoko” type character who is roughly within Chihiro’s not-fully-established age range from any work that I’ve personally seen or played and I’ve probably considered shipping Chihiro with them at least once. Honorable mention goes to Pidge and Saika Totsuka, whom I’m pretty sure I’ve at least talked about and compared Chihiro to on this blog.

a headcanon fact

Remember when I said that the series seems to be backpedaling a bit after making Chihiro have an ungodly amount of behind-the-scenes importance? Well screw that. I mentioned it here a couple years back (and I have since mellowed out on the whole “If Chihiro isn’t important in DR3 we riot” thing so don’t worry about that), but I’ll mention it again. IF said that Chihiro recognized Monokoma’s programming as something he worked on. His FTEs say that he was working on an AI project for some company. And Usami looks way too much like Monokuma to be a coincidence.

So screw any potential retcons that may come out of Monaca Towa being the mass producer of Monokuma units, because I believe that the company Chihiro was making the AI for was Towa, and Monaca modified the AI to fit Junko’s needs, which would tie everything together into a neat little bow.

But sadly, this is still only a headcanon. But it’s one that I feel has a lot of weight to it, and that the series has yet to make impossible. So I’m clinging onto it like a friggin’ koala.

Holy crap, this was long! And yet I feel like I haven’t said much of anything. It’s tough to bring my thoughts into words sometimes. But I think it’s plain to see (damn it, Tsumugi, get out of here, we’re not paying your VA double for this post) that I love Chihiro, and he’s definitely one of my favorite DR characters if not my top favorite.

Thanks again for the ask!

#dangan ronpa #chihiro fujisaki #makoto naegi #naehiro #chi-the-hero

25 notes · View notes

unicorn-incorporated · 6 years

Text

On Gender in ABOs

It’s so interesting thinking about gender in ABO works.

Note: ABOs have a lot of variety. I’ve tried to make this pretty generic, but you may not agree with everything I have to say. That’s just how ABO is; sorry. This is basically just one universe of ABO

The formula you tend to see in ABO is a small fraction of the population is classified as Alpha or Omega and most people are just betas. At least 60% of the population are Betas in fics that I’ve read. So, I’ll talk about Betas first.

Betas.

If a beta shows up in an ABO it’s usually the Omega MC camouflaging as a NPC type character; a police officer, mother, clerk etc, so few explore what it means to be a Beta, so most of this is mine.

I imagine Betas, being the majority for a biological reason have drives unique to them, just like a Alpha’s urge to conquer and have kids, or an Omega’s drive to keep home, take care of kids, and protect their families. I imagine Betas having a draw to steady, salaryman style work. Any ambition they have to climb the corporate ladder comes from themselves, not their biology.

Beta’s biology does not press them to mate or exact major changes in the world around them, but to work and keep society stable. Personalities of Betas often vary greatly and therefor temperaments and wants of course, but in a world where there is so much biological, primal drive it only makes sense for Betas to have their own drives.

I see Omegas and Alphas having biological drive to seek out physical touch, companionship and cuddling, whereas Betas feel no need to touch each other (but still might find touch comforting. It depends.) I see Betas feeling anxiety when unemployed, even if said Betas is lazy and does not want to work. I see Alphas as biologically inclined to be managers and CEOs, but a Beta happy to work as a functionary or a badass engineer underneath an Alpha supervisor without much thought of climbing up.

Alphas and Omegas feel the need to procreate and have lots of children, because their children are usually unusually healthy. Betas may feel desires to have children and start families just like any other person. But while the typical Omega is siring their 5th child a Beta couple is sending their only one off to college. I see Betas as just as sexually adventurous as Alpha/Omega couples, even more so considering they’re not often locked into the power imbalance of those relationships.

They are the workers, the majority, the keepers of the world. They are much more important than Omegas and Alphas in a lot of ways, because they’re the ones that do everything. There’s got to be a reason there are so many of them compared to Alphas and Omegas.

Yet, there’s often a huge imbalance of Alphas in power, not just to Omegas but to especially to Betas when compared to the world’s actual populous. Alphas are often biologically natural leaders and more aggressive so they often end up in positions of authority. This means a minority of people may end up as a far majority in seats of government. What does this mean for most of the population who are not Alphas? How does being an Alpha effect their priorities?

Alphas

The ratio of Alpha to Omega (to Beta) is different in every story, but I find in apocalyptic worlds (that are fascinating all in their own, but not what I’m talking about.) the ratio is about equal. I’ve seem 60:20:20, 80:15:10 90:5:5, etc etc, and these ratios can change the world an incredible amount. In any case, Alphas are a minority, and are the gender on top of the food chain.

What are Alphas, other than the second most likely to be the protagonist of your ABO fic? Well, in most stories Alphas are characterized by their bigger frames, greater physical strength, aggression, and desire to mate and give their Omega lots of children. In many fics Alphas go through periodic ruts similar to an Omega’s heat, or have a chance if they get really into the sex to go into a rut state. My Alphas also are generally very territorial and possessive, and not just over their Omegas. Other variations will die without Omega partners, which I love, but will not include in the Alphas I am mostly talking about.

Alphas in works are portrayed as very primal, especially when it comes to sex. The smell of an Omega’s heat may make them lose control, they prowl instead of walk, and are generally the apex predator. A large part of the Alpha cultural identity is that they are aggressive badasses. Think an extreme version of our culture’s masculinity. Alphas are often portrayed as either masterminds or... Not so bright. It is generally seen as normal Alpha behavior to think with your dick... Or something else, depending on how you portray your female Alphas.

This doesn’t mean that all Alphas are or are expected to be super aggressive all the time. Alphas often have care taking instincts along with their regular taking instincts. In the ABO’s I write this is something that is shown in the closed door of a nest, however, and it would be weird to see an Alpha do these things outside of the mating. Alphas have the power in the world and generally can move mountains by looking at them, but they actually have the smallest amount of freedom to have the different personalities they inevitably have.

Alphas have biological drives that make up a lot more of their cultural visage than the Betas I mentioned earlier. As mentioned before, Alphas want to mate. They are virile and want to bear as many happy healthy little children as possible, as fast as possible. Alphas also feel the biological need to be at the top, whether it be of their high school clique or the government. They often don’t get on well with other Alphas because of this. If an Alpha does not feel the need to be dominant over others it is seen as being submissive, which is generally a humiliating and dangerous thing to be seen as if you are an Alpha.

Before I continue on to what Alpha’s uneven power dynamic with the entire world can mean, I’m going to talk about Alphas gender expectations and it’s parallels to toxic masculinity. Fun!

Many of the traits associated with ‘Alpha’, be it a male or female Alpha, are the exact same traits you’ll find labeled as ‘toxic’ forms of masculinity. In ABOs it is expected for an Alpha to own and mate their Omega and an Omega mate publicly disagreeing with an Alpha could be an awful humiliation for Alphas. The slightest sign of backing down is seen as a sign of submission to other Alphas, and Alphas who show ‘Omega’ traits (as there’s a lot more judgement by secondary gender here than male or female) could find themselves ganged up on by other Alphas either psychologically or physically. It’s really a fine line here, at least in the way I’ve read things; be nice to your Omega, that’s a good thing as long as it’s still your Omega, but make sure you’re strong and dominant or you’re not any good as an Alpha.” With the internet, a single mistake could ruin your life. So remember Alphas, be a strong, proud, sexual being, and don’t forget to be dominant!

Once an Alpha gets on top they generally will want to stay there. This explains why Alphas are so disproportionate in government and other leadership positions. So what does this mean for the rest of our fantasy world? Though I am not a master in political sciences or gender studies, I do have a few thoughts.

One; Alphas care for Alphas first and foremost, and Betas second. Alphas because of their bias as being an Alpha, Betas because they are the voter base. Two; There is often a fair amount of discourse and heated debate in congresses and parliament between Alphas, of which Betas are often left out of and Omegas are forced from if they try to speak within it. These debates usually are resolved between the present Alphas, however, and it does not necessarily end in calling of all partizans! Three; Alphas, because of their biological drive to mate (and be the dominant partner to Omegas) often screw Omegas over when it comes to things like ‘Human rights.’ Omegas often have to fight tooth and nail to get recognition for even small things. You’ll see countless fics where Omegas are forced to mate at a certain age, are not allowed to hold positions of power, or are even subjected to slavery and it’s all good and legal, nothing to see here ^-^’ Not all worlds are like this, and many set in modern day will have Omega rights start to reflect woman’s rights here in our non-fictional universe, but it’s probably time to talk about Omegas and how much it usually sucks to be one.

Omega

Yes, here we are! The gender most likely to be a protagonist. Beautiful boys who self lubricate and can bear children--It’s a dream! Alright; lets say you’re an Omega. Here’s what you have to look forward to!

(Tw for rape. )

So, you’re an Omega in World One. You wake up and realize it’s your 16th birthday and you will have to choose a mate today. You don’t really want to choose a mate; you’ve been hoping to avoid this. Luckily, you are the protagonist! You get away from the old ugly Alpha before he bites you, and go on an adventure, and meet another Omega!

Unfortunately, you are the only one who is the protagonist. Everyone else gets forced into an arranged marriage and probably raped if they’re not a fan of their chosen husband.

So, you’re an Omega in World Two. You live a pretty normal life, though being an Omega makes life considerably harder. You have to fend off Alpha advances constantly and most of your omega friends are not in healthy relationships. Luckily, you are the protagonist! You find the perfect Alpha and life is going great actually and this was a cute smutty romance story.

As you happily hold your stomach, your best friend cries alone in her bedroom, because her mate that’s meant to love and cherish her sees her as an object, and a useless one since she hasn’t even gotten pregnant, and that means she is terribly damaged in the eyes of society and he’s just going to try again and again until it catches.

So, you’re an Omega in World Three. You’ve managed to live as a Beta all your life, and you’ve been found out. An agency has taken you away where you will be forced to bear children. Luckily you are--Wait. Not even being the protagonist will save you from this one. Sorry! You’re screwed.

But really; what’s with all the rape and objectification of Omegas? I have read fics with all of those premises and enjoyed them, but god damn there is a lot of rape culture with Omegas. It makes sense considering biology and how these societies work, but holy fucking shit.

(End TW)

So lets say we remove the rape culture from the story. What now? Well, first off, lets talk about what an Omega actually is. Like we did for the other ones before going on dark tangents.

The Omega is the third gender of an ABO. They are super fertile, generally naturally submissive. More often than not a male will be portrayed as the Omega character shown, but it could just as well be a girl. Omegas usually have lots of issues being treated as equal members of society; there’s a lot of parallels to woman’s liberation I’m pretty sure but I haven’t done enough research on that to draw proper parallels.

There are biological reasons for why Omegas have less opportunities and rights. I’d argue that Omegas should not be in the military. Omegas might be just as capable as an Alpha to be combat effective, but in the end their heat is a ticking time bomb (especially if suppressants or unstable or even taken orally. It could be a major liability.) Other things like government or commerce however; Omegas are not impaired for that.

Omegas are obviously, from the perspective of the reader, people. However, it is common in fiction to see Omegas being seen as objects, things that can be possessed and owned.

I’ve seen Omegas and the injustices done towards them explored the most in actual ABOs, so I’m a little less inclined to talk in length about it here.

Anyways, these are just my opinions and only a small corner of ABO.

Depending on how much time I have I might do one on LGBT+ issues in Omegaverse worlds, but that just delves farther into head canon and this is long enough.

4 notes · View notes

sour--strawberries · 6 years

Text

Red String

summary: Tony is regretting Ironman. He’s not regretting the idea of Ironman, he’s regretting keeping his secret identity as Ironman a secret because dum dum Steve thinks Ironman is his soulmate because he saw his red string of fate connect with Ironman. Tony is so screwed.

A/N: Merry Christmas!

aaah thank you so much for this lovely fic!! of course Tony and Steve are destined to be together and there is no other way ❤ and JARVIS had a beautiful role and I loved Tony - Steve dialogues! thank you again, I love it ❤

Red String by @roshytsunami

Alright, so red strings of fate lines are tricky. Most people can see them but some can’t and have to hire someone to see their string for them. Overall though Tony thinks the strings are crap. His mother and father were connected by the strings and look how that turned out for them. Both miserable and dead. So when Tony is in his early teens he comes up with the best invention for SI. Dampeners for the red string of fate. The device can be worn as a bracelet, as a glove, as any accessory, you can place on your body. It hides the red string from even the best eyes. This way people can choose who they want to love and not worry about meeting the lover on the other side of their string.

Tony thought it was a wonderful idea at the time because people have a choice in who they love. They don’t have to follow their string to a supposed soulmate. However, currently he is regretting it. It’s not his fault he forget to put on his dampeners before the mission. He usually has the dampeners already in the suit but he makes sure to wear his dampener accessories just in case the suit gets damaged. But for some reason he wasn’t thinking. Steve had called the Avengers assemble over the com and he had reacted. His beeper on his wrist had alerted him to the crisis and he had forgotten to place on his bracelet before suiting up.

Which brings him to this predicament. How is Tony going to tell Steve no Captain America who Ironman really is? It’s not like they got off on the right foot. Tony hated Steve the moment he saw him. This was the man his father was proud of. This was the man he was compared to daily growing up. This was the perfect man his father said was more worthy of his love than his own son. So there was some resentment when they first met. Currently they were tolerable of each other but they still had fights.

“Heh he said he wished Ironman didn’t come with a Tony Stark as if I’m a sidekick,” he pouts, “I’m nobodies Robin the dick.”

He frowns thinking how he is going to tell Steve about Ironman and nothing is forming in his head. It’s all a blank. If he tells Steve he’ll think he’s joking and if he proves it Steve will feel betrayed that Tony hid it. It’s not like Tony knew he was Steve’s soulmate. He had worn his bracelet religiously and one time the one time he doesn’t his red string decides that Captain America is his soulmate. He’s so screwed.

There’s a knock on Tony’s workshop glass door? Who knocks anymore he thinks to himself as he has Jarvis check the surveillance.

Fucking Captain America.

“Let him in Jarvis,” he says going back to working on his new invention.

“Stark…Tony we need to talk,” Steve says as soon as he sees him.

“Ooo seems like you’ve watched some James Bond recently,” he teases.

“Tony please,” he says rubbing his head, “do you know what happened in battle a few days ago? Has Ironman said anything?”

Tony stops fiddling with the device and looks at Steve, “do you mean how much gunk I had to get out of the Ironman device or the fact that he’s your soulmate?”

“Ironman is a he,” Steve asks.

Tony curses internally before recovering, “I mean it is in the title IronMAN. What does that bother your 1940’s values Cap?”

“No,” he comments as Tony gasps. “You make it sound like the 40’s didn’t have queer people. Is it ok to say queer still?”

“Eh depends on the person,” he says still in shock that Captain America is gay or he might be bi? “So does that mean you just like guys or a little of both?”

Steve flushes, “don’t see how that’s any of your business. I like what I like is all I can say,” he shrugs.

“Damn America is sure gonna be disappointed their American icon is gay, bi or whatever,” Tony smirks.

“Tony I need to speak to Ironman,” he says getting to the point.

“Wow ok and what about? You going to make an honest man out of him.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “thought I went over this already. Look can you just tell him to meet me on the roof tonight at six. It’s important.”

“Oh you both going on a date,” he teases, “just be sure to have him back by ten.”

Steve laughs, “sure will dad. Just tell him for me please.”

“Oh you can bet he’ll get the message,” answers Tony before going back to his invention. Once Tony hears the door slide close he groans.

“Jarvis how screwed am I?”

“Would you like a graph or a percentage sir?”

Tony pouts, “mute.”

Later that night Ironman is on the roof. Tony made sure to have his bracelet off so Steve could see his red string of fate. He doesn’t want to confuse the guy anymore. He looks around bored before seeing Steve appear.

“Ironman I’m glad you could make it.”

“Tony said it was important for you to meet.”

“Right right,” he says flustered. “Look Ironman that last battle we saw each other’s string right?”

“Yes. I did not want to alarm you to it,” he begins before Steve interrupts him.

“No you were fine. That’s fine,” he sighs, “the thing is Ironman. I’ve always wanted to follow my string but I could never see mine when I was sick and didn’t have the serum. So I thought after I got the serum I would be able to see it but that didn’t happen. I thought I had lost my string forever. I thought it was a consequence of the serum but then when I woke up in this century and saw it for the first time I was excited. I wanted to find my soulmate as soon as possible but then I thought I don’t want to put them in danger so I gave up following the string. Which is why when I saw my string connect with yours in the last battle I felt conflicted.”

“Conflicted?”

Steve smiles, “yeah you see I already have my eye on someone. They don’t know it yet. Haven’t had the courage to tell them and well you don’t need to know all the details. Just know that I can’t be with you. I’m sorry but I’m not going to follow a string when following my heart has lead me better.”

“You’re breaking up with me and don’t want to be with me?”

“Sorry I just want to be with someone I like not someone I am forced to be with cause fate said so. I’m sorry but this won’t affect our friendship. You’re a good friend if a little sassy sometimes.”

“Oh I live to please,” Ironman says sarcastically.

“Haha yeah but anyway I wanted to tell you that before I confessed to the one I like. I didn’t want there to be confusion or drama.”

“Oh no I get it. Just uh can you at least tell me who it is? Just so I can look after them since I’m betting they’re a civilian.”

Steve smirks, “you already look after him.”

Ironman freezes. The fuck Steve can actually mean.

“Can you repeat that?”

“You know him. Uh Tony Stark I hope that’s not too awkward for you.”

Ironman paces, “awkward not at all ironic all the way.”

“What?”

Ok Tony is impulsive maybe too impulsive sometimes and this is driving him a little on edge.

“You know you kind of just confessed to Tony Stark,” he says bluntly. His hands are sweating as he tells Ironman to open up. It takes a few seconds before Tony is stepping out of the Ironman.

“Tony!”

“Hehe yeah? So about that confession-”

“You’re Ironman?!”

“Uh in the flesh well armor but still yeah.”

“Why did you…did you think I was an idiot. I can’t? You know what don’t care I’m going to say it anyway. Tony Stark do you want to go out for coffee?”

Tony flushes, “yes sounds fun. Do I really need to not explain everything? Cause sometimes you act like I don’t but then you get mad if I don’t explain.”

“Tony just shut up. We’re getting coffee and going on a date. We’ll discuss how you endanger your life on a daily basis later.”

“Aww but mom.”

Steve chuckles as he pulls Tony closer to him as they leave for their first date. Oh, by the way, their first date turns out horrible. Some villain decides now is the time to rob banks right across from a coffee shop but that’s another story.

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #superhusbands #no tickling #but very awesome anyway #fanfic #fanfiction #submission

46 notes · View notes

isozyme · 7 years

Text

The Once And Future Queer: What’s Up With These Identity Conflicts?

There is always a border war going on somewhere in the queer community. Who gets to be a fag? Who is only a diet fag? (Do diet fags get to use the word fag?) Line up to put your think pieces in the box!

What is the point of this endless squabbling about how far the queer umbrella reaches? Is there some magic moral set of criteria that, once agreed upon, will create a perfectly inclusive-yet-cohesive queer community? No. Of course there isn’t a solution; and what’s more, I don’t think that the people engaging in these arguments think there’s a solution either.

So if the problem is insoluble, and clearly no amount of argument will produce a binary yes/no answer on queerness, why do we keep having this fucking argument? I think for two reasons: 1) a lot of queer people are afraid that straight people will hurt them, and 2) a lot of queer people are afraid that they might secretly be straight. Until we address these two sources of anxiety, we can’t ever solve the gatekeeping problem.

Straight people (cisgender heterosexuals) are often perfectly nice people and I am friends with some of them, but if they want an honorary queer badge they can sit on my dick and wait for it. Straight people are not allowed in my community. I am not a lesbian fantasy for heterosexual male consumption, and I am not a cool ego boost or hipster fashion resource for straight female consumption either. Our Vice President is Mike “Religious Freedom” Pence, who thinks that gay wedding cakes are sweeties for satan. I get to be a mean bitch about this. If you’re straight, get the fuck out of my club.

If you are not straight, but you felt a deep terror reading that paragraph, as if you were a spy in a smoky room with dark wood panelling and a very dangerous man just looked you in the eye and said, regretfully, “I was hoping that tonight, I wouldn’t have to kill any spies,” I have good news for you: you are not a spy. You are experiencing one of the definitional queer emotions: being afraid that you are secretly one of the hated straights and soon all of your cool gay friends will abandon you and you will end up in the suburbs with a subscription to Cooking Lite and your life will be over. Lots of queer people feel this way. I am marrying a woman in a few months and yet: the terror of heterosexuality persists.

Let’s imagine a simple logical progression: if queer people hate straights, and I am afraid that I am a straight, then by the transitive property queer people hate me and I need to defend myself. And lo, we’re off to the Twitter Discourse races.

Defending one’s queerness seems like it should be easy! After all, it’s not like there’s extensive prerequisites for being queer. All you need to be queer is some feelings. Got gender feelings? Sexuality feelings? Grab a label, and lo: basic requirements fulfilled.

But, surprise! Turns out feelings are fickle, useless bastards. Building a permanent, born-this-way, out-and-proud identity out of refined self-awareness is a daunting task. Comparing notes with other queer people is complicated by our emotions being trapped in our own skulls. If we want to put them into someone else’s skull the best we can do is translate those feelings into flappy mouth sounds and pray the message gets turned back into feelings in their head without too much signal degradation.

Robbed of the ability to verify everyone’s queer feelings, we latch onto actually quantifiable stuff, like how funky their haircut is or how long it takes cashiers to decide on sir or ma’am or how many genitals they’ve touched on purpose, and what sorts. And this, I think, factors into our straightness anxieties.

Using the first, feelings-y framework to show that everybody is all the same amount of queer causes cognitive dissonance when obviously some people do more openly queer shit per day than others. We don’t have good vocabulary to differentiate between describing queer actions (different from person to person, and some people do more of them) and describing queer identity (you are or you aren’t, it’s opt in and what you do with it is up to you). All the platitudes in the world about how “we’re all the same amount of queer” will not stop our community from feeling like it’s separated into TruGays and HomoLite when “queer" describes both a suite of identities and a suite of actions.

This puts everyone’s backs against a wall. On one side, queers who are tired of tiptoeing around their anger at straight culture invading their space. On the other, queers who feel like that anger attacks the lack of obvious queer actions supporting their queer identity. Before we can stop spending energy on this fight, we need to squash the fallacy that all queer identities being valid means that all queer identities should have an equal impact on your daily life.

If your reaction to this post is to angrily list all the impacts that your queer identity has on your life because you are being attacked by a gatekeeper, perhaps take a moment to re-assess: are queer actions required for queer identity? What are the costs of maintaining the fiction that all queer people have the same amount of quantifiable queer stuff in their lives when, by definition, we are a diverse group of people with incredibly diverse experiences that don’t invalidate our identities? And if we spent more time addressing the hostile world that destabilizes all queer identities, and less time pissing a line around the perimeter of queerness, wouldn’t that be nice for everyone?

We build our queer identities using many facets of our lives: our bodies, our spaces, our relationships, our actions, our desires, our connections to queer history. Constructing a stable identity is work. We can all be at different points in shaping ourselves, working towards different end goals, while still deserving a place within the community.

#long post #discourse #worse: queer discourse #isozyme gets salty

207 notes · View notes

resbang-bookclub · 7 years

Text

AMA Transcript: Nothing Compares 2 U

@makapedia joined the AMA party to talk with us about her 2016 Resbang, Nothing Compares 2 U! Here’s some of what went down!!

Q: You wrote a good chunk of your fic set in the nineties. Was there anything that was especially hard about that?

makapedia: Writing the fic in the 90s was hard, if just because I was six when the 90s ended, so I did not remember as much as I thought I would, so I had to research a little history.

Q: What inspired you to think of this premise/AU?

makapedia: I thiiink I was talking to Madi? And spitballing ideas, as I do, at her, and it just spiralled from there. She enabled me hard.

Q: I did love your 90s references though. You mentioned some stuff and I would have flashbacks. It was all good.

makapedia: I didn't even get to write the scene I had originally envisioned for the AU, that's so weird. I wanted more Tamagotchi scenes. I wanted Maka to leave her precious child Tamagotchi in Soul's hands and he was going to take his job as caretaker Very Seriously while she was homeworking.

Q: [This] fic was an emotional ride and so empathetically written and incredibly nuanced. What was the most emotional thing for you to write? What would you do to cheer yourself up after a difficult scene?

makapedia: The most emotional thing for me to write was definitely, um, towards the end of the first portion of the fic? I gave Soul and Maka both parts of myself in this fic, and Soul really got the raw, late teens anxiety and fear of the world and his future, and it was both easy? and hard? for me to write, especially since it was through Maka's eyes, and I could not come out and say "hey, he is depressed and unmedicated and on a downward spiral" because she just didn't understand it. I would listen to Spice Girls to cheer myself up, though.

Q: Your approach to sexuality and to mental illness is amazing and hit me in the feels. Pls discuss any extra commentary youve ever wanted to discuss on these elements of your writing.

makapedia: I don't think I even went into this thinking it was going to have such commentary on sexuality? Uh, and especially the drama/throne we put sexuality on as a culture. I think the fic really evolved that way? And I think definitely even adding as much asexual commentary in it was extra. The mental illness thing was definitely planned and I wanted to make a point of showing someone who does struggle with depression/anxiety/other taking his life into his hands and getting help and still being able, as an adult, to have relations and be happy, and be a good partner. I wish I could have shown more of that at the end, but it is what it is.

Q: What is your personal favorite scene to write, or just based on how it turned out, or whatever!

makapedia: My favorite scene to write?? Maybe was towards the end, I had a lot of fun writing spiteful angry Maka kicking in the men's bathroom door and scaring the shit out of Soul. But based on how the scene turned out, i think the smut smut scene was my favorite. It was a Long fic, longer than I anticipated or planned it being, so a lot of it just melts together in my head now.

Q: Smut scenes, how do those go?

makapedia: LOL. Are you asking me how to write smut?

Q: Yes.

makapedia: I love you so much. I am Disgustingly Demisexual and super vanilla about things, and a lot of my smut focuses more on the feeling and gross headspace than the physical part? It's easier for me that way. I am a tiny ace virgin I am terrible with smut, I have people Fooled.

Q: Pls elaborate on your Very Important Decision to give Soul Batman sheets.

makapedia: Every cool guy I have in my life really aggressively loves Batman. That was it. He seemed appropriately Edgy (or False Edgy, w/e) for Soul.

Q: I really loved your characterization of the parents in this story - both Soul's and Maka's. Did you find one set of parents easier to write and if so, why??

makapedia: Oh man. I mean, they were there but also weren't, yeah? Only Soul's dad and Maka's mom made the cut, and Maka's mom is always a mixed bag for me because we do know very little about her in canon, whereas Soul's parents are always an empty canvas, for the most part. All I know about Maka's mom is she dumped Spirit for cheating and she is "like a bear" according to Maka loool so I guess I just kind of made her a very opinionated force of nature, sort of looming over and leading Maka's future, but she's hard for me to write. I could do whatever with Soul's dad and no one could tell me I was wrong. Too much power for one girl.

Q: Was there a specific 90s artifact you wanted to include that didn't make the cut?

makapedia: Black*Star in JNCO jeans.

Q: Where did the inspiration for the Liz jealousy side plot come from? Because that KILLED me lmao.

makapedia: The Liz thing was planned but also not to the degree it ended up happening? Mostly I wanted to write about Maka's insecurity, and work through her misogyny and jealousy issues and I thought it'd be interesting to have it be a close friend, I guess? But then it evolved into Soul questioning his identity in the background and coming to terms with like, realizing he was ace? Also I wanted Maka to be weird and uncomfortable and maybe even a little jealous later, when Liz had invited him to her wedding, but some of that got lost in translation.

Q: The entire leadup to and all of the Halloween party was a gift, where did the inspiration from that come from? (Soul alone with weiner dogs, bless.)

makapedia: I really, really wanted to write Maka as baby spice and it just snowballed from there. SHE WANTED TO BE SPORTY SPICE SO BADLY. Soul is me. Hides in the back room at a party and chills with tiny dogs.

Q: Why the 90s?

makapedia: I think it was because of my own nostalgia? And also feeling like I missed out on all of the turn of the century weirdness, because I WAS so young when the 90s ended and the 2000s began. It was like a time period AU but not drastic enough for me to have to really change everything and research language and clothing and trends and culture. It was recent enough but also like... long enough ago for other people my age or a little older to be like oh, man, remember the 90s, why did we all part our hair like that? The fic really did start out very silly in my heart but then everything got dark and sad.

Q: I was gonna ask, where did this idea come from? Did something really spur it on, other than your 90s nostalgia? Was the time gap thing always there? Cause the way you entered in the future and had a good portion of the story in the past was excellent and gripped my attention.

makapedia: So, originally when I was blarging to Madi about a 90s au I think I realized it couldn't just be memes, it needed a plot? And I'd always really wanted to write like a post breakup fic where the ship Gets Back Together at a wedding and then bam kablam. The "outline" for the fic is just bare bones for the fic and then some jokes I wanted to get in. Originally I'd wanted the chapters to go back and forth, 98 to 08 and such, but I ended up settling with a big 98 portion so it felt more cohesive. Pluuus I kind of like how it sets you up to hurt and then you wade through the beginning cute with just, this sense of oh god, no, what goes wrong?

Q: I loved the character dynamics between everybody everything felt very fitting like 'yep that is so how they would be.'

makapedia: ;__; I'm so glad. Bro*Star's frosted tips.

Q: I wanted to kill him when he did the freaking card trade thing.

makapedia: LOL that boy has no tact. That cloyster joke was in the outline.

Q: Did you have any characters that you sat there going 'okay what to do with you' or were all the characters falling into place nicely from your perspective? Was Black*Star's gutter mind easy to fall into or not? XD

makapedia: hhhaaaAAA, Death the Kid was mysteriously Not There in the 90s. SORRY, KIDDO. Black*Star is so easy and fun to write, but I think I'd write 90s skater DTK.

Q: Oh well, [Kid] got to make the best reference of the whole fic lol.

makapedia: He did, he got my favorite line. I think he spoke one line and it was my favorite. 70k for an I Write Sins Not Tragedies reference. The slow realization that that album came out in 2006 and therefore Existed was the best.

Q: On a scale of one to 10, how excited were you when you realized this?

makapedia: 10. 11. That joke got me through writing the last chapter.

Q: Was there a scene in particular that went a really different direction than what you expected?

makapedia: So I don't plot ahead like... as often as i should, hhhhhhaaa. So for a lot of the middle I just hit cruise control and went wherever it took me. But a lot of the stuff about virginity and like, terrible sex ed and worrying that it would hurt a ton and she'd bleed definitely weren't things I thought I'd write. I did not intend for the First Time (tm) scene to happen then and there but then... surprise dongle! Dicks out for the ship's swan song.

Q: What song did you listen to the most while writing this?

Q: Linger by The Cranberries, I think. A big Mood. And You Oughta Know, for appropriate Anger. Aaand Nothing Compares 2 U, of course. Tho I do wonder how many younger fandom bebs don't.... know that is a song title reference.

Q: What was your favourite part of the fic?

makapedia: I think... maybe the Halloween party, because Maka is such an unreliable narrator in this fic and she is so Clueless (haaaaaa, jokes) and it was the moment she Finally realized what Liz was trying to do. Also the moment where Soul realizes too was fun.

Q: Did you intend to write Liz as the actual soma fandom or was that accidental? (Complete with our adoration of Tsubaki.)

makapedia: LOL It was a little intentional, I guess, because she was Soul's close friend in the fic. But like, Maka misunderstanding everything just kept getting worse so it was a bit accidental. God I love Tsubaki. Liz has good taste. I don't super ship it a whole lot but I still wanted to try my hand at it. I wanted them to be happy and cute.

Q: What about your LEAST favorite scene!

makapedia: The breakup scene was hard for me to write and I'm still not happy with how it came out. It still feels forced in my heart, but I had to move on.

Q: WHAT'S NEXT?

makapedia: Iiiiii already have an idea of what I'm gonna do for Resbang next year so I cannot share that, buuuut I think I'm going to continue writing Not Lovers, weird mermaid AU I started recently? and probably more AUs. This is the year I write Too Many SoMa AUs, mark my words.

Q: Okay so Soul and Liz doing the do sort of killed my heart. Was that always planned?

makapedia: Hhhhaaaa that was planned ahead of time, I guess? I wanted Maka's jealousy to have some sort of basis. This tiny demi thing who can't wrap her head around sleeping with someone like that.

Q: It broke my heart but I found it so... realistic? Like I totally know people who've experienced that, and lots of people don't have their first time with their soulmate or true love or whatev so like it HURT but also... so, so true.

makapedia: Exactly, that was what I was going for. <3 Aaaand pushing my ace agenda, lol.

Q: Correct me if I read the thing wrong, but crona got adopted by Sid and Nygus??

makapedia: Iiiii do not remember. LOL, HECK. PLEASE.... HOLD.... /FRANTICALLY GOOGLES OWN FIC. YES. OKAY. Good I was like, I think I wrote that??? But then I haven't read that part in so long. I feel like people so often just throw Stein and Marie into the role of Crona's parents and I think I wanted to mix it up.

Q: I just... Crona living with Black☆Star had me in tears.

makapedia: Also that, exactly. You can bet your butt that weenie was probably Crona's dog, but Black*Star is the one who dressed it in a costume. I also had fun writing Soul and Crona bonding over Pokemon. Nerd shit. Soul, excitedly: did you hear they're making a video game? Maka is not as well versed in Pokemon as these nerds. Soul's probably laying there in that room with the weenie playing Tetris.

Q: That visual is gold.

makapedia: I also wanted to write Black*Star taking out Soul's ankles with a Skip-It. But alas.

---

Thanks again to makapedia for stoppin’ in!! More transcripts to come, stay tuned ~

#AMA transcripts #resbang book club #rbbc #resbang

13 notes · View notes

rainygalaxynerd · 7 years

Text

Brave New World - Chapter 54

Warnings: Not really.

Summary: Garcia wants answers, Sam has a plan.

Word count: App 2200

A/N This was a bit easier to write. I think we’re getting there <3

This is part of a chapter story. Link to mobile master list here.

Tagging: @kbrand0 @jotink78 @winchesterprincessbride @fangirling-instead-of-working @vibou25 @jencharlan @mrsjohnsmith @deandoesthingstome @littlegreenplasticsoldier @twenty-onepages

Dean ran a hand over his eyes tiredly. “Fuck it. Fuck my life. Fuck me for sounding like an emo goth kid. Just get in, you two.” He stepped aside and motioned for Morgan and Garcia to enter.

Chapter 54 - Allies and a Plan

“Woah,” Charlie said, eyeing the newcomers. “Getting crowded in here.”

Sam raised a questioning eyebrow at Dean, who picked up the notebook and wrote:

MORGAN’S FRIEND KNOWS AB. CIA HACK. NEEDS TO KNOW THE TRUTH.

Sam frowned. “Could you be a bit more specific? I mean not that I’m against the whole truth and nothing but it would just take a lot of time, you know.” He shrugged apologetically at Garcia.

She was gaping. “That’s Sam Winchester.”

Derek put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Yes, Penny.”

She glanced at the notebook, Dean was scribbling in furiously. “Why is he doing that?”

Charlie answered. “Because Sam can’t hear anything. He pulled some magic trick and now he rambles crazy stuff half the time and his eyes glow.”

“Who are you?” Morgan asked her, eyes bugging.

“I’m Charlie. For now. Definitely changing my name and birthdate when this is over.” Charlie nodded to herself. “I could be a Kim, couldn’t I? Or maybe Denise, that’s a nice name isn’t it?”

Caitlin put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “I like Charlie. You’re babbling, by the way,” she said with a small smile.

“Sorry.” Charlie nodded, rolled her shoulders and hugged herself. “I get nervous every time the a… Castiel does that thing, you know. And the last hour has been a lot for me.” Charlie took some time to really stare at Caitlin. “Seriously, how can you be so calm?”

Caitlin squeezed Charlie’s arm and giggled. “I’ve had weeks of practice. You should have seen me after I met my first ghost.” She looked around and noted that Charlie was right: Cas had disappeared at some point, probably at the knock on the door.

Caitlin shared a smile with Charlie as they watched Garcia sputter and eventually snap: “Have you all gone completely and collectively insane?”

Dean snorted. “I wish.”

Mogan rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes. With a sigh, he turned to Dean. “Could you start with the identity confusion, please?”

“Easy. Cas, I mean Castiel, the Angel of Thursday, put an optic illusion on me so I could help Caitlin at the interview. It only works on people who don’t know me. That’s why you see my usual pretty face and she sees something else.”

Morgan’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Did you say angel? I didn’t think you believed in that, what did you call it back then? Religious crap?”

Dean scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… that was before the apocalypse.” At Morgan’s incredulous expression, Dean continued: “The biblical one, I mean. There was a shit storm of angels and a prophet and Lucifer walked the earth. Tons of fun. Cas helped shut it down.”

“I think we should meet and catch up a bit more often,” Morgan said.

Dean looked out the window. “Na, man. Not much to tell, anyway.”

“Dean.” Caitlin had snuck under his arm and wrapped an arm around him. “Please?”

“No!” Dean scowled at her but didn’t move away from her. “It’s over. No one wants to hear about that shit.”

“I do.”

“You really, really don’t, Caitie.”

“Why?”

Helplessly, Caitlin watched Dean shot down completely and turn to Garcia. “Listen, Sweetheart, I’d love to plead my questionable sanity to you all day but we were kind of in the middle of planning the next big boss fight. Talk to the others, observe, form your own opinion, got it?”

Garcia nodded dumbly, mouth hanging open, eyes following Dean as he turned to Sam and picked up the notebook and pointed at his last question.

Sam answered calmly: “We need the bone of a saint, dipped in the blood of an angel and the blood of a demon. Then we melt down Bobby’s flask and cover the tip in that.”

“But Bobby’s tethered to the flask. That would destroy his soul.” Dean had forgotten that Sam couldn’t hear but apparently, that wasn’t a problem this time.

Sam’s eyes began to glow and his voice echoed. “No. It will send his soul to Heaven where it belongs. The hate and spite and thirst for revenge that has already begun to eat at Bobby’s spirit will be the shackle that binds Roman to his vessel.”

The glow faded and Sam spoke normally, once again. “When he’s bound to the vessel, we can behead him, douse him in borax, and bury pieces of him all over the continent.”

Dean was about to protest some more when Bobby showed up to simply nod his head twice, face serene and almost smiling, before fading away again.

In the background, Charlie and Garcia both squeaked.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, shook his head slightly and took a deep breath before squaring his shoulders. “Won’t the other Leviathans try to put him back together?”

Sam pointed impatiently at the notebook and Dean grumbled about inconsistent deafness as he scribbled the words.

Sam read the question and shrugged. “Probably. But as more and more of them suffer the same fate it will be mighty difficult for them to find the right pieces, don’t you think?”

Dean nodded with a smirk. “I guess.” A worry line appeared on his forehead. “I just wish we could do something more permanent.”

“No,” Sam said, looking sad and exhausted. “You really, really don’t.”

Meanwhile, Garcia had listened, had analyzed what she heard and compared it to what Morgan had already told her. It was crazy, crazy and scary and impossible but it was true. Every word, every scary detail, glowing eyes and ghosts included, it all added up. She stared at the men in front of her and something seemed to shimmer and break.

“You’re Dean Winchester,” she blurted when the face of Agent Dean Smith morphed into the well-known outlaw.

He raised his head quickly from the notepad he was scribbling on, to grin at her and give her a thumbs up sign.

Garcia turned to Morgan. “That’s Dean Winchester.”

Morgan nodded, expression cautious.

“That’s Dean Winchester and that’s Sam Winchester and it sounds like they’re plotting to kill the richest man in the US.”

Morgan nodded again and bit his lip.

“I knew that guy was bad news.” Garcia ignored Morgan’s baffled look and turned to Charlie. “Nice work at the CIA. If you do another mock-attack they’ll restart their systems and the changes you made will be untraceable.”

“Thanks,” Charlie gushed. “I wanted to but I didn’t have enough juice to pull the diversions needed. All I had was that one.” She pointed to the laptop bag resting in a corner.

Garcia’s eyes widened. “You hacked CIA with just a laptop?”

Charlie blushed. “I just went through their standard gateways instead of going through the firewall.”

Garcia frowned. “Then you’d have to know the correct username and password for someone with a lot of clearance.”

Charlie shrugged. “It’s not my fault the director hadn’t changed it since I hacked them the last time.”

“Last time?” Garcia quirked an eyebrow at Charlie.

“A couple of days ago I found some pretty unbelievable information about my boss, Dick Roman. I still had my own stuff then so I checked FBI, NSA, Interpol, Home Security, CIA and fucking NASA for confirmation. They’re all clueless, by the way.”

Garcia nodded, her expression saying how could you expect different when Dean interrupted.

“Listen up, Ladies.” He smirked at Morgan and continued. “We’ve got a recipe for Leviathan soup. You can run along or help us with the grocery list. Choice is yours.”

“I’ll help if I can,” Caitlin immediately said.

“What she said,” Charlie nodded.

“If there’s anything I can do when I’m off duty,” Morgan said and thrust his hip out while putting his hand on it, thoroughly embracing his newfound title as a lady just to mess with Dean.

“As long as I can hide behind a screen and do my real job, too,” Garcia declared.

Dean looked at all of them one by one, an unspoken question in his eyes. “You sure about that? Really?”

“Of course we want to help.” Caitlin smiled at his stunned expression. “We’re glad you asked us.”

He nodded, still perplexed. “Okay. Um, right. We need a box from a storage room in New York containing a human femur of a saintified nun.”

As Dean drew in a breath to continue the list, Cas showed up by the door, holding an old wooden box. “The femur of Katharine Drexel, as requested.”

While Garcia and Morgan stood speechless, Dean walked over to accept the box. “Thanks, Cas. Boy, that was fast. Could you, you know. I mean, do you mind bleeding a bit for us again?”

Cas gave Dean a fond smile. “Gladly, my friend.” He seemed to conjure a glass from thin air and as they watched it filled with blood. He offered it to Dean who fumbled a bit with the wooden box before dumping it in Caitlin’s arms.

Dean took the blood filled glass. “Thank you.” He looked around and zeroed in on the room’s mini fridge. Carefully putting the blood inside, he stood and looked at the notebook again.

“Okay, next is some demon blood and then we need to find somewhere remote and get a nice hot fire going.” He held a hand over his pocket, trembling slightly. “Finally, we need to figure out a way to get Roman out in the open with minimum security.”

Charlie and Garcia exchanged looks.

“Leave that to us,” Charlie smirked.

“Okay. Great. I guess all we need is demon blood, then, before going on a picnic. That was… easier than expected.”

Dean scratched out the items on the list already accounted for and showed it to Sam, who nodded.

Sam left the room shortly, then came back with the spray paint from his duffel. Wordlessly he shooed everyone away from the largest free space and painted a devil’s trap on the floor.

“Do you know what he’s doing?” Caitlin whispered to Dean.

Dean scowled. “If I’m not mistaken he’s going to summon a demon. Bloody show-off. Let’s get everyone out of here.”

Just then, Sam started chanting, the latin flowing from his lips quickly and effortlessly.

Dean ordered everyone to relocate to the small room next door, offering no explanations as to why. As soon as he could, he returned to stand by Sam’s side.

Within minutes, a young dark-haired woman appeared in the devil’s trap, looking scared and confused.

“Meg,” Sam smirked. “Long time no see. Are you up for some fun?”

“Why, Sammy, my boy,” the demon drawled back at him, all signs of fear quickly hidden away. “Have you changed your mind about me?”

Sam rolled his eyes and gestured at Dean to continue the conversation.

“I’m pretty sure Sam always thought you looked your best bloody, Meg.” He held up an empty water bottle. “But this time, all you have to do is bleed this half full. Then we’ll let you go.”

Meg cackled in disbelief. “Right. Just give you my blood like it holds no power over me whatsoever and then you’ll let me simply waltz right out of here? Try again, Deano, and cut the bullshit this time.”

“Give us your blood so we can kill Dick Roman and we’ll exorcise you back to hell and you can crawl back out. You’re good at that, aren’t you?”

“No. If I do this, you let me fucking go. I won’t bother you but I’m not going back to hell.”

“Don’t talk like you’re calling the shots, Meg. We can just take it instead.” Dean drew a knife from his boot and tested its edge to demonstrate what he meant.

She tilted her head and looked at him, looked through him. As she opened her mouth to speak, undoubtedly the usual vile psychological crap mixture of truths and lies that demons were masters of, Sam coughed. Her eyes slid sideways and she recoiled in horror. Saying nothing else, she looked pleadingly at Dean.

He tossed the bottle into the trap with a smirk.

Meg curled in on herself as far from Sam as she could get and used a long fingernail to open a vein. She collected the blood in the bottle and rolled it back to Dean. She gave Sam another scared glance and steeled herself.

Dean opened his mouth to start the exorcism.

Meg looked up at him, a strange vulnerability in her expression. “Say hi to Clarence for me,” she said.

Dean stood, dumbstruck, suddenly reminded of one of the weirdest things he had witnessed in a lifetime of weird. Meg kissing Cas back then to steal his blade had made sense but Cas… Cas had kissed her back, fervently so.

“Why don’t you tell him yourself,” Dean muttered, suddenly convinced that the angel was there, unseen.

Cas appeared as expected. With a sigh, he stepped across the boundary of the sigil and offered his hand to Meg. “I will take her somewhere far from here.”

Dean bit his tongue to keep from arguing how wrong being considerate to a demon was. Sam stood impassively next to him and when Dean chanced a look at him, he was bleeding from his ear again. When he looked back at the trap, it was empty.

#spn fanfic #brave new world #dean winchester #dean winchester / ofc #sam winchester #castiel #meg masters #megstiel #if you want it to be #season 7 au

12 notes · View notes

forkanna · 7 years

Link

[AO3 LINK] [EF LINK]

NOTE: Yes this one is super short, too. Sorry! Next one will be better.

Let's skip to a couple days later. Not much else happened other than smarmy grossness. Of course, that still wouldn't be the usual level of pure, grade-A Canadian maple sap given that I was part of the relationship, but it was cute. Lots of takeout and movies, gaming, snuggling. Things that I had to get used to since none of my previous significant others had ever stuck around long enough.

Well… other than Scott.

Maybe that's why he was on my mind so much during that time. Literally the only other long-term relationship I'd had was him, and we were in high school, trying to figure ourselves out as much as we were trying to figure out each other and how to combine those two factors. Opening up those memories was like watching him drive away all over again, but I kept doing it. Had to figure out if there was some weird nugget of truth in there somewhere that could help me figure out how not to fuck everything up with Knives.

Scott and I didn't "date" much. It was definitely a benefriends situation; we were buds who started boinking in the back of my parents' car. So all of our activities were about the same as they had been before; practicing music, hanging out with Lisa Miller. We didn't do much that was coupley other than holding hands and sex. From what I heard, Scott got all those romantic experiences from Natalie after he dropped me like a bad habit.

So why did I keep thinking about him if there wasn't much wisdom to be had? Because I didn't have any other experiences to compare it with.

I'm pretty pathetic. But at least I had someone to call and ask for advice. He might not be the most monogamous person I know, but he is a flaming queer, and has had more success in the dating arena than pretty much anyone else in my extended circle. Maybe using my phone-a-friend lifeline counted as cheating, but when working with such a severe handicap, I figure it all shakes out.

~ o ~

"Well, well, well," Wallace Wells half-purred in that voice of his. You know the one. "The redhead."

"That is the colour of my hair, yes," I grumbled.

"Didn't expect to ever hear from you again once Ess Bee Bee and that other thing broke up. See you around in that bump-into-people-you-knew-through-people-in-Honest-Ed's way, sure…"

Gripping my drumstick tighter as I sat on my drumset's seat — the seat of power, a place from which I drew comfort and ability to cope with life — I said, "Same. But I got your number from Stacey, because… I need help."

"'Fraid I'm fresh outta that stuff."

"Help? You're 'out' of help. Really?"

"Yep. The generic kind. But if you elaborate, I might have a specific flavour blend in stock…"

He was definitely going to make me work for this. So I decided to stop being shy and cut through the double-talk and uncertainty. "I'm dating Knives."

The line was quiet for a moment. "That sounds painful. My advice is to buy plenty of bandages for when things get frisky."

"No, Knives Chau. Scott's ex."

"Oh!" he said in a pleasant tone of voice. Even now, I'm not totally sure whether he was trolling me or if he really didn't think I meant her the first time. "She was cute in a Pokémon trainer kind of way. Didn't think you played in the kiddie pool."

"She's in college now, you asshat. But I could use some advice."

"Advice for dating women? Fresh out of that, too."

Gritting my teeth, I said, "Wallace…"

"Alright, alright. So you're edging onto the Rainbow Road and you're afraid of flying off the side. I gotcha. Assuming that's the reason you called me instead of someone else you know…?"

"There's nobody else. Stephen's pretty much the only other person I could call, but he gives terrible advice. Hollie is in Nowhereville with Jason, who knows? And Steph… I just don't know her very well. Or maybe too well. I'm really not sure which."

"That makes me the bartender."

"What?"

"You know, the nameless bartender you tell all your deepest, darkest secrets to in hopes he can give you guidance because you're too blasted to figure out he couldn't care less about your life."

"Fine, nevermind. God, sorry to have bothered you."

But he was chuckling. "Alright, alright. I'm half-kidding; I barely know you and don't care that much, but you're family now. That has to be taken into consideration."

"I'm… family?"

"Gay family. A budding bisexual, right?"

"Y-yeah." I cleared my throat to get rid of that uncertain quaver. "I guess."

"We all start out 'guessing'. It's okay." He let out a long sigh, and there was the sound of something being moved around; he was probably working on something in his apartment, or at his job. Whatever that was. "How long have you two been having playdates?"

"A couple weeks, or whatever," I growled, ignoring the insult.

"How far have you gone?" When I let out a strangled noise, he reassured me, "For informational purposes only. Trust me, I'm not going to get off on two girls doing anything. If there's not at least one dick involved, it's off my curiosity list."

I started to correct him that one was involved, but again I felt that instinct to protect her identity kick in. Maybe I should ask her if she minded me telling people at some point. "Dry-humping. She's kind of… never done it, and I haven't done it with a girl. I swear, if you tell anyb-"

"Lips are sealed. Do you want it to go further?"

"YES! But I mean, only if she's ready."

"Good, that's good. I've had a hesitant date or two. No still means no, and that's more important than all the prep work in the world, but I have a couple ideas that could help get her in the mood."

That one hit me hard. Luckily, I just barely listened to her "no"s when we were drunk as skunks. Nodding as I chewed on my drumstick, I then put it down and said, "That'll help, but I'm actually more worried about… other stuff. Like, how to be in a relationship with a cute, bubbly, fun girl when I'm a vortex of despair."

"Opposites attract. Chances are, she already likes you because you're a vortex of despair. Not usually something people put on their eHarmony profile, though." But apparently, I had him curious. "What other stuff?"

"Dating. I suck at it. Like…" I tried to lower my defenses. "She's so sweet to me, and I feel like I'm just there. Sucking all the fun out of the room. I want her to feel what I feel. Or I guess, to show her that. Something."

"Awww, baby lesbians are so cute. Like puppies."

"Ugh…"

Then he sighed again, a long, floaty sigh of someone toying with someone else. Which would be me. "Alright, never fear — Wallaciraptor is here. Let's help you get rolling…"

~ o ~

When Knives walked in the door, I could tell she was caught off-guard by the way her purse fell to the floor instead of being set down. "Kim? I… what's going on?"

"Nothing," I lied as I bent over to take the casserole out of the oven, showing off my bare ass. Just below the apron strings. Yes, I really did the cliché. Yes, it was super uncomfortable for me, since I'm not exactly a flesh-flashing kinda girl. But I thought, hey, it was worth a shot. "Making dinner."

Which was also part of the plan. There were multiple parts; I didn't know which one to try, so I tried everything. One big gesture to try and prove to both Knives and myself that I could be a girlfriend, and not just some drummer chick who acts like she's on the rag all the time.

"Yeah, but you're naked! I mean… almost!"

"You like it? I thought the green apron brought out my eyes." It still came out sounding sarcastic, even though I didn't mean for it to. My voice just sounds that way unless I'm actively suppressing the biting tone, and even then sometimes it bleeds through.

"Um…" Deciding not to comment on my butt, she turned toward the stove. "Smells great! We're having casserole?"

"Yes. And garlic bread. That's not done yet, though. And, um…" I glanced at my coffee table, where there was a cabernet open and "breathing" — Wallace's suggestion. I would have just put a couple of beers down to go with dinner, or at least uncorked the wine right before drinking it.

Knives walked over and touched one of the wine glasses with a finger. I got them from a dollar store specifically for this occasion, since I didn't own any before. Then she picked up the remote for the stereo system, which was pretty conspicuous because it was the only other thing on the table. "What's this do?"

"Hit 'play'," I said as I got out plates.

She did. And quiet, soft, romantic piano music started floating out of the speakers. Also from the dollar store, but I listened to the whole CD before using it to make sure it wasn't too terrible. She laughed… but it was a very specific, actual happy laugh. Not so much at my expense as just surprised at the situation, I guess.

"What is all this?" she asked as she went back over to kick off her work shoes and leave them by the purse. "Like… I thought we were just going to have cup ramen and watch TV."

"Wanted to try something else. Um… y-you'll have to tell me if it's any good. Never tried this recipe before." Hell, I don't think I'd ever cooked anything more complex than a frozen pizza in forever.

Once she was in the kitchen, she put her hand in the small of my back. "I'm sure I'll love it." Then she shivered and smiled shyly, withdrawing from the touch. "Not used to touching your skin like that."

"I can change if it's more comfortable for you. This was kind of just… y'know. The 'naked housewife fantasy' bit as a joke. Or maybe not a joke, if you liked it."

"Trying to get me in the mood?" she guessed with a slightly wry smile. When I flushed a little darker, she stopped smiling. "Wait… oh, is this really what that is?"

"Not exactly. But… kind of. I just… wanted to be a good girlfriend, or something like that. I dunno."

The silence was kind of tense. She didn't look angry, just a little confused and contemplating the whole situation. Then she glanced at the oven and back at me.

"How much longer? For the garlic bread."

"About another five. I'll be quick." Clearly, she wanted me in real clothes, which I already had laid out on my dresser. Ready for plan B.

And I was more okay with that than I first expected. Sure, it hurt a little that she didn't know how to feel about me being naked while we ate, but at the same time, neither did I. Just seemed like a weird idea. But Wallace swore it worked like a charm on this one guy he was dating, so I figured I'd give it a shot. No real harm.

Once I was wearing a nice white blouse and a long grey skirt, we got our plates loaded down with casserole and bread and moved things to the table, where we sat cross-legged and ate and drank. She told me about her day, and I told her about mine until the point at which I started getting dinner ready, which I didn't think was interesting — until she started demanding more details with her cute, patient way of doing everything. Incredibly, stories about me buying ingredients and wine glasses was actual entertainment for her.

And somehow, she managed to out-girlfriend me again. Shut up, I know it's not a competition… I know. But even after I drove like a thousand miles outside my comfort zone, hoping to really show her how much I cared and how much she meant to me, Knives was already there and had a jetpack to fly even further. She started doing the dishes as soon as we took our plates to the kitchen, said it was her turn to cook next time when I wasn't expecting it, asked if I had a long day, offered to rub my back when I moved my neck and made the world's tiniest wince… and she gave me the rub, and it felt so good. Told me I looked really cute in the outfit before I could ask. Sweetness and sunshine.

What kind of jerk was she to be so perfect?

To Be Continued…

#kim pine's precious little knives #forkanna writes #scott pilgrim fanfiction #wallace wells #scott pilgrim vs. the world #kim pine #kim x knives #forkanna the writer

0 notes