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theveryworstthing · 4 years

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So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class. I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace. I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway. This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

#long post #the addams family #Character Design #au #design challenge #i am incapable of doing a design challenge like a normal person #oh god i forgot the cut lol

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lillian-nator · 3 years

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Wallflower AU (aka highschool au made w/ @bellfort3)

V i b e s - hanging on the roof; walking across train tracks; skipping school; Lakes, yes, something with lakes; something with different types of sodas. - My angsty teens are gonna have painted nails - Tommy bleaches his hair; Wilbur dyes his hair black - dramatic fuck. - Wilbur in eyeliner plz - Wilbur wears doc martens; black, yellow, maroon, silver shiny - Tommy's worn the same exact jean jacket for the past 5 years; it's 2 sizes bigger than he is; but he wears it every single day; it has fur on the inside; and its light washed with tears; the tears didn’t come like it; he's just ripped it over the years - He doesn't wash it very often, but he's glued patches on it, and Wilbur's drawn on it in sharpie. He just layers hoodies or flannels under it when it’s cold, but still wears it when it's hot - Tommy's also worn the same shoes for YEARS, they’re duct taped together at this point, they're white converse, they're not white anymore, and he's bleach-washed them SO many times that they permanently smell like chemicals. - The laces are frayed, so bad that he doesn’t even wear the laces most days. - Tommy doesn't shy from going in mud or water though, he'll wear the shoes to their fullest and then some. - I think you can tell by now, that Tommy just doesn’t come from a lot of money. - They live in a kind of run down town, very poor, old, smallish. - Wilbur is middle class, which is very well off in the area he lives in. - Wilbur gives off family disappointment vibes. Where he has to sneak out at night, Tommy can leave through his front door. - Wilbur calls Tommy “sunshine”, but very sarcastically since Tommy is a dick :) - Tommy has one of Wilbur's old beanies; it's black and monster branded, the monster logo is green - Wilbur gave it to Tommy 3 years ago, and Tommy never gave it back - btw Tommy's 17 and Wilbur's 19: Tommy's a junior and Wilbur's a senior - Wilbur only drinks Green Apple Monster - Tommy drinks sugar free redbull, but mostly only when Wilbur buys it for him, because Tommy usually doesn't have pocket change - Wilbur and Tommy bring speakers to the train tracks and dance and by that, its them jumping around and occasionally pushing someone over - Tommy uses his allowance to buy cigarettes; Wilbur vapes - both mentally ill - Wilbur is essentially the modern emo. He has this one yellow and black flannel that's oversized, and he wears it multiple times a week - it’s a problem.

- Dream, Wilbur, Karl, Tommy, Big Q, SapNap, Punz, and Tubbo - That’s the group. - I have just been talking about Tommy and Wilbur but they are the main characters so you can suck it. - A scene with Dream, Wilbur, Karl, Tommy, Big Q, SapNap, Punz, and Tubbo, at a lake, throwing each other in, and Tommy gets his shoes soaked, but he saves his jacket from the fall. Water gun fights, and they drink energy drinks and eat chips. they lay in the grass and contemplate life, Talk abt life yes. Abt existence. Abt how shit it is. Half of them have to wake up early and sneak home, the other half get to stay as long as they like. - Tommy tucks his t-shirts into his pants, which are always very baggy black jeans with just gigantic holes. - Tommy and Dream both have ADHD, however, Tommy's meds are purely from welfare, he cannot afford to give any out. Dream however? From an upper-middleclass family. Basically millionaires in this town. He can afford to lose some of his meds. - He yells in the clearing "COME GET YOUR DRUGS CHILDREN" - Besides, I've learned that there are like so many different ADHD meds, and maybe Tommy is just on something a lot stronger than adderall. He can't partake in the pill popping, but he doesn't mind. He does it every morning. - They don't do it often, maybe once a month, depends on how big Dream's prescription is - not that he regularly takes them like a good boy should - And I won't ever write this, but Gogy hangs out with them every so often, in which Gogy and Wilbur have an on and off again hooking up type relationship - whenever they hang out, Gogy like sits and Wilbur's lap and shit - Tommy and Punz GAG - "EW the fuck - get your hands off eachother. ITS GROSS - NO PDA IN MY BACKYARD"

- They hang out in an abandoned Building. But they don't try to fix it up. They're not fucking VSCO girls. They just want somewhere to hang out - If anything they make it worse - they fucking trash the place - It’s not intentional though - It’s like they can have fun without worrying abt the mess - just, sometimes they spill hawiian punch mixed with vodka everywhere - THEY GHOST HUNT AND OUIJA BOARD AND SHIT - They hang out in cemeteries too. they play manhunt in a cemetery, but like the regular version- like just hide and go seek in the dark. - they've done seances even though almost all of them are atheists - anyways the point of the fact is, is that half of them (excluding the minors you know) I'm looking at you Karl and Q - somethings going on between you two have made out with guys, and I'm not gonna sugar coat it, most modern like takes on religion do not take kindly to that

- they go to prom - and Dream somehow ends up with a ton of weed, because he had just turned old enough, and had the money - and they get fucking high OUT of their minds, like they're never doing it again - like, George and Wilbur definitely hooked up at Wilbur's house, which they aren't supposed to do - because Wilbur's parents will fucking flip that Wilbur is sleeping with a random person. No one is quite sure where SapNap ended up, and Tommy lost one of his shoes. In a panic, they spent the next 3 hours looking for it to find it at the lake by the school - Tommy fucking cradles it to his chest. - (are wilburs parents homophobic?) (yes maybe a little side of homophobia) (Is wilbur bisexual or gay?) (he is ‘whoever the fuck looks bangable’) (fair enough) (he is ‘gogy my king’) (TRUUUE) - the bleachers - they hang out under the bleachers

- Gogy = Stylish stoner - very popular, but never not high - Karl is like the goody two-shoes of the group, doesn't skip class, and is on the principals list, however, he will NEVER back down from space brownies - its his weakness - Tubbo has a subway pass, and they do that thing where Tubbo swipes it and everyone fucking bolts into the subway, and they take all the trains at like 4am and just hang from the bars and shit - Wilbur still dresses relatively like, nicely and scholarly, which puts everyone off. He wears very loose sweaters with button-ups underneath. with khakis or black jeans and his docs - where his best friend, our Tommy, wears borderline yellow converse, and one bleached two-sizes-too-large jean jacket, and some second-hand-store hoodies, that are always a bit too worn in, but so, incredibly Tommy - Tommy who legit hasn't brushed his hair in years, not with a brush anyways - too frantic to brush his teeth most mornings. but always chewing gum; Tommy's always everywhere at once - ADHD meds only half-working on him, they couldn't afford the good shit - He'll never quite understand Dream handing out his adderall for free, Tommy would kill for the hard shit, but hey, he's never gonna stop his friends from having a good time

- Let's talk about Karl Jacobs - good ole' goody two shoes Jacobs - all of his teachers are constantly trying to get him to stop hanging out with Tommy and gang - every parent teacher conference is "we love your boy, but we are concerned about his friends" - Teachers have meetings with him, about how the people you surround yourself with can change your future - Karl's like, from the good side of town, plays first in the drumline, plays violin on the side, straight a's, clean-white-air-force-ones type of guy. Name brand clothes. Combed hair - Packed lunch every day from his mom; gets dropped off by his mom, kisses her goodbye; Mom is like very involved in school too - PTA parent - it's fucking good kid Jacobs - and he's sneaking off with fucking potheads to go to college parties and abandoned buildings - Does he do drugs? Well, he’s a big fan of treats if you know what I mean :wink wink: - ….you ever see Ted's video about a 500mg edible …. yeah. - big fan of gummy bears and brownies - Karl shows up to Parties and there are shouts of "Fuckin' goody-two-shoes Jacobs is HERE" - a lot of people make fun of him and think they can push him around - He seems like a softie; welcome mat type beat - but fucking watch this man chug 5 cups of whatever you give him, and then still win beer pong - Like his best friend is fucking quackity, he can do the hard shit - its very much a his parents have no clue who he actually is type beat - Look, his parents have no clue where he is ever - And if they even know he’s out, they don’t know where or with who - If his mom is at all involved in the school, she'll hear about Quackity, basically a drug dealer with how much hash weed he hands out on a daily basis. - Tommy has to be contained in order for the school to run smoothly, and Wilbur is a dramatic fuck that sleeps through most of his classes - Tommy has to take frequent breaks - They make him spend 3rd period in the principles office - Like he obviously needs help but he can’t afford it at all. Even the school can’t do anything for him bc he can’t get anything official for himself - like he can't even try to concentrate - He gave up so quickly in high school, bc they don’t have enough time or staff to help him - he tried in middle school - but man, did he give up in highschool - Yeah. He knows it is hopeless. Can't even afford college anyway. he'll just do whatever Wilbur does - here's an idea: Fucking Karl Jacobs showing up to school one morning just absolutely hammered out of his mind - Karl just showing up to first period AP Physics, and he's barely awake, honestly smells so much like weed and booze, and if he breathed anywhere near you, you could just feel the alcohol radiating from his breath - He's extra bubbly, laughs at everything - takes out his notebook to take some sort of notes, and just fucking giggles at the shapes and equations. He is very spacy, he clearly stayed up all night doing something very illegal; he gets up and jumps around. 2nd period band? oh boy - He gets sick at lunch bet - Like everyone got Drunk but Karl got FUCKED up - It was his birthday, bet - He took like 17 shots over the course of like 8 - 12ish hours, and I looked it up, despite karl being super scrawny and probably like 140 - 150ish pounds - which isn't a lot for being 5'11 - will not kill him - BECAUSE, you guessed it, he turned 17 - He didn't sleep, he was awake taking shots and just fucking who knows what until 6am when they stumbled to school - at lunch, 11:30 in the morning - he's head down on the table, miserable - he doesn't have a hangover yet, because it's only been a few hours, but man, is he nauseous - just the smell of food makes his stomach churn - and the thing about fucking Jacobs showing up drunk as hell - is that at least one of his teachers has called his mom about it - SHES PRESIDENT OF THE PTA FOR FUCKS SAKE, ONE OF THEM KNOWS HER - And the teachers aren't stupid, Karl is so obviously drunk - generally Karl is pretty quiet in class; but now he has no distinction between hanging with hs friends and being in class - he's shouting and cracking jokes and is very tempted to kick his chair over - Anyways, Karl fucks himself over, end of story - ONTO PUNZ’S RELGIEOUS TRAUMA WOOOOOOOOOOOO - It's Punz - fuckin' golden boy Punz; he plays football; and goes to church; and calls his mother "momma"; wears a nice church outfit; and is polite to the bible study mothers that come over on tuesday nights and gets them drinks - just a fuckin' golden boy - A religious family. Go to church every Sunday. Sunday school. Holidays. But. The kid just realizes that they don’t believe in god. Them telling the group like they’re high and he’s like “you know? Some of the shit that’s happened to us proves to me that god rlly isn’t real.” - and Punz like prays every day for Tommy's dad to get his job back; or for Gogy to get better parents; or for Karl to live the life he wants; and NOTHING EVER WORKS. THEY'RE ALL STILL FUCKED. - by the way we will get the the Tommy's dad losing his job later - But Punz's life is controlled by something he doesn't even believe in anymore - because he's still going to the like church breakfasts, and christmas service, and every sunday morning, and helping his mom's ladies bible study, and his parents are talking about sending him to a youth bible camp - - and he doesn't even think he believes in god anymore. - Punz kind of took out his own personal, religious, and family struggles out the way most teenage boys do. Drinking, and lots of sex. - SO I just imagined this like, really dramatic moment, where its the morning after Punz had a one night stand at some sort of party down the street, and he's long past saving his virginity for his wife, but he's buying her the morning after pill, which his church is just so against, and he has like the moment of, "if you do this, you're done." and he does it - he's had a couple of those moments, like, when he first had sex, and when he first smoked weed, or popped a pill, or snuck out at night, or skipped church - but that was the moment of "there is no going back" - like any type of drug or procedure that aborts an embryo, or that blocks fertilization thats already in process in like: the biggest no no in his church community - so once he stepped out of that drug store, he kind of took a breath, and just came to terms with it - "I'm an atheist." - Punz is the pastors son. - he's like, pre-commited to a catholic college - he’s in deep. - so when he first announces it to his friends, one really late night, "I think god might not be my thing." - they just start whistling and say "FINALLY, THE PASTORS SON HAS TURNED AROUND." - Dream just like turns over to him "how many chicks did you fuck to make you realize that?" - Tommy just slings his arm over Punz, "I'm glad you've quit the Jesus shit, Punz. Your better than it." - There’s gotta be this girl ok. He rlly rlly wants to have sex with her but he always backs out. The thing that breaks him. Is that he gets drunk and loses his virginity to someone who is not that girl - like, he likes this girl, and has a good connection with her, and she likes him, and he knows that its gonna be comepletly consentual, and she's like fucking beautiful right? - and she's the one he wants to loose it to and he's a stupid fucking idiot and loses it to some fucking random ass chick that doesn't even go to their school - This triggers a spiral. After that? He slowly starts giving less of a fuck abt everything. He fucked up the one thing you can’t do over and god he’s so painfully aware of it and so painfully aware that he didn’t even fuck up right. - You’re supposed to wait till marriage. Nope. You’re supposed to do it with someone you love and trust. Double nope. He. Fucked. Up. - its just like he wanted to do something bad. he wanted to fuck something up. he was questioning his faith, his like, great and sturdy and always-there faith for the first time, and what better way to test faith than to do something shitty and see what comes of it. and so he was planning and planning and planning how he was gonna do this terrible thing - which is such a good kid thing to do, to put so much thought into your own rebellion - but he wanted this to go perfectly. - Little Pastors Son, Punz, wasn't gonna wait till marriage. - He was gonna have sex with the girl of his dreams before they were even dating - but man did he like her. Did he want her. - And then he fucked some random girl when he was black out drunk. He's fucked everything up - he can't wash this away with confession - he's tainted. He's dirty. - He looks in the mirror and doesn't recognize the heathen staring back. - He hates who he's become. - But he never goes back - he can't. He's dirty. He's wrong. - but the more he goes down the spiral - the more he realizes that one mistake shouldn't have made him feel like that - that if god was real, which he honestly wasn't sure in that department, he wouldn't want Punz to feel like the scum of the earth for doing something wrong. especially when he felt so bad after he did it. This system was fucked. He didn't want to be apart of another cycle - and he's just lying to himself every time he goes to church, and reads a cerse for his mom, and meets with younger kids at the church, and plays flag football with fucking church virgins who are good catholics and follow all their mommas orders - And every night when he says grace he means it less and less. he always does it when his momma asks, but boy does the lords word mean shit to him anymore From Ethan: - A turning point to the others in Punz's breakaway from Catholicism is like - He prays before he eats, usually. Sometimes they wait for him to finish his prayer before eating themselves, just out of politeness. He's a friend, he gets that shred of etiquette - And then one day he just doesn't. They got some fast food for a whole group dinner out at their hangout spot (a warehouse, did you say??) Tommy is staring at it intently but he waits for Punz to pray. Tubbo's already started eating but the rest wait - And Punz just starts eating - Dream nudges him, "No prayer, Pastor's boy?" - "No prayer," Punz mumbles into his food. "I'm trying something new." SO, TOMMYS DAD LOSING HIS JOB ARC W000000000 - it starts with Tommy showing up in a different jacket one day - like you have to understand, he's worn this jean jacket every single day for as long as WIlbur has known him, which is like 6 years - Like Tommy shows up in this giant, khaki work-jacket and it's his dads... - HIS DAD DIDNT DIE - his dad lost his job, which is essentially death to a family who already couldn't sustain themselves - and Tommy shows up to school, face pale and cheeks sunk in and there are visible bags under his eyes - and Wilbur just rushes over immediately and hugs him so tight to his chest - and Tommy just sobs, "pops lost his job -" gasp "I can't - we can't pay the bills this month. everything - its all falling apart Will." - "Hey - hey. Stop. It's gonna be fine. You're gonna be okay. You always are dude." - Tommy does have to get a job - and he probably does drop out of school unofficially, like he just stops going. - he sleeps during the morning classes, and heads into work at 10am - he's a carpenters assistant. it pays well as they need young, able men. but most of the younger citizens in the town go to school - he has to take the day shift because the day shift pays better - he doesn't mind it, he doesn't - it gives him the opportunity to get all of his energy out; but he misses going to school. as much as he hated it, he misses his friends. - and lets be honest, its hard as fuck for his dad to find a new job, he doesn't have a great resume - he didn't graduate from highschool. and he isn;t in top health condition, he definitely doesn't have health insurance - so Tommys stuck with this job for a long time - his dad uses his last paycheck to buy Tommy workboots so tommy feels in debt to him - He’ll get his GED eventually. - I think - The like religious status of the rest of the group brought to you by me - Everyone who I don’t mention is just a hard atheist - Karl and Wilbur are catholic, but to a lesser extent, Wilbur doesn't really go through with lent, and Karl only sometimes does. They go to a different church and go pretty much on holidays only, a sunday a month maybe. - SapNap goes to Punz's church, they've been friends for years. - He goes to sunday school but misses a lot of sermons because of his siblings sports games. - He is involved, but not to the way Punz is - SapNap's mother is in fact in Punz's moms bible group - Punz sometimes doesnt attend the bible group and Sap's mother is all "now you tell that pastor's boy to actually attend next time, got it?" and Sapnap dies a little on the inside - And George is an orthodox christian, but he's pretty much quit due to the blatant homophobia he's seen at his church.

AND NOW ON WILBUR SOOT AND KARL JACOBS AND BARKING - Wilbur has siblings, fun fact - that we will never talk about or address - but definitely nothing like Wilbur, more the Karl Jacobs type - Wilbur is the oldest. he's always lectured about being 'a good influence on your brother and sister.' - They’re big sports kids. Softball and Basketball (tall genes). Straight Bs; Bed by 10pm; Have never missed school - Parents pride and joy :) - Just good suburban kids, Have friends next door, help the neighbors, attend the cul-de-sac barbecues. - Basically who Wilbur used to be up until highschool (until Wilbur met weed and a good group of stoners) - Sure he was a disappointment and he had no clue what to do with his life - But he was happier - Never really liked being the goody- two-shoes boy next door, he doesn't know how karl does it “Playing good boy like a dog” - Also he used dog terms around Karl - Because he’s “Playing good boy like a dog” - He’ll throw Karl a beer and smile “go fetch” - He laughs so hard when he sees Karl be good in a class or play it up for his parents; Because Wilbur’s so past trying - Wilbur will walk by and just bark at karl. Bet. Just Growls lowly; Walks in a circle; Anything to make Karl’s parents (or Wilbur’s own) stare at him and scurry away - Karl’s parents push Karl forward and like hold their younger kids close to their chest, whispering “keep close, don’t look at him” - They tell Karl to stay away from kids like him. - And boy do Wilbur’s pa#rents hate it, They push him along and whisper yell at him As he throws his head back and cackles - I mean imagine, like a stereotypical middle class suburban family: House wife, blue collared father, Two kids; in sports jerseys, Girl in braids, boy in khakis - And then there’s Wilbur: Doc Martins, black jeans, collar and sweater, beanie. Definitely high on something - Chains LOTS OF CHAINS - And he's Barking. Fucking Barking At the nice family down the street - And then he takes out his vape right in front of his parents and silently offers Karl a hit with a smirk - Cause Karl’s too busy playing good boy - And as Karl’s family looks back, as Wilbur is corralled by his mom - He flips them off with the biggest smirk uou will ever see - Wilbur's kind of an ass - And Karl really wants a hit of that vape.

#wallflower au #wilbursoot #tommyinnit #karl jacobs #quackity #sapnap #and Big Q #georgenotfound #gogy #punz #dream #dreamwastaken #tubbo #long post

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toflyandfall · 4 years

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I just saw a photo of "What persona. Dick Grayson isn't a mask. Not like Bruce Wayne is" from Detective Comics #725 and I find it interesting that Dick and the rest of the bats, with the exception of Bruce, don't wear "masks" per se. They are who they are with or without the domino mask/helmet. The only time I can really think of Dick faking things is when he pretended to be an incompetent BPD cop. How was he able to avoid creating and living, half the time, through a "persona" like "Brucie"?

Oooh, this is a lovely, meaty question. There’s a lot more analysis of Bruce than I planned because let’s be real, it’s kinda weirder for a guy to run around with half a dozen personas than for someone else to run around as himself. I hope you still find it interesting, but if you want to skip straight to the more Dick-centric stuff, head under the readmore.

A simple but significant factor is that Dick thrives on the company of people in a way that Bruce does not. I suspect if you talk honestly to many introverts, you will find they too have an extroverted ‘mask’ they put on to the larger world, though probably not quite so extreme.

Another factor is that the civilian social circles Dick and Bruce travel in are vastly different. Though they each have a reason for being in those circles, that difference itself enables Dick to escape much of the scrutiny that Bruce’s public identity undergoes, because he doesn’t frequently associate with the much more media-hounded elite.

An interesting thing here is that the large difference in social circles between their civilian lives is actually caused by their own personal similarities: they are 100% committed work-a-holics. It’s just that they have differing civilian approaches to their goals.

I want to start with Bruce because as you point out, his use of persona is distinct among the bats and his reasons for using them in part explain why Dick and the other bats do not.

Bruce is a child of privilege, he has always lived a lifestyle of privilege, regardless of the tragedies that have occurred during it, and his default view of the world, through no fault of his own, is natively that of the extreme upper class. This drastically influences his perspective and approach to change, and changing the world is his perpetual goal, the reason he put on the suit in the first place.

Bruce works a top-down society approach toward systemic change, and he works it all the time. This is actually my favorite but woefully under-emphasized part of him: he is not just someone who punches people on the street ‘for justice’, he uses his company, his money, and his social position toward substantial systemic change. This post does a wonderful job covering the ways he does this through his corporations and personal wealth, as does this one. I cannot recommend either enough because I constantly want to push even the most casual Batman fans to understand: Bruce Wayne is not just a violent punchy puncher man. He is a traumatized person genuinely trying to use all his resources including himself to make the world safer.

Detective Comics #725

Bruce has many personas he maintains, and he uses all of them according to what suits his need--Batman for places the law can’t go, Bruce Wayne the CEO pushing for systemic changes, Matches Malone for street information, and Brucie the society high roller for society information and social influencing. He is rarely ever not in a persona and simply ‘Bruce’.

His top-down perspective of enacting change are what dictated the usage and necessity of these personas. He has the means and capacity to basically disappear from society if he so chose--he in fact does so to train during his younger years so successfully they don’t even know how long he was actually gone.

The Batman Files

So he doesn’t need the personas. Not Bruce Wayne, CEO, or Brucie, or any of them really, to protect his identity. That tells us that Brucie is a deliberate choice he made at some point. He could have been a recluse billionaire Batman indefinitely. Even though he fully has the status and means to not maintain a job or a persona or, let’s be frank, a life outside the mask at all, it’s his own work-a-holicness that led to the creation of his public personas. He’s an obsessive strategist, so if Brucie is a choice, that leads us to why?

Bruce does many philanthropic things with his money, but he isn’t the only rich person around, especially not in a city as old and corrupt as Gotham. But he’s one of the very few ones doing good with it.

The comic you mentioned has a very beautiful moment where Bruce touches on that, and in full context you can feel how consumed he is by this goal of creating the Gotham his parents would have wanted. Batman mentions he never sees himself in that place, and the morbid interpretation is that the city kills him before he reaches it, but the hopeful interpretation is that in that shining city, Bruce Wayne and Batman and Brucie and all his masks will no longer be needed.

Detective Comics #725

Back in the old days they’d call it noblesse oblige: the inferred responsibility of privileged people to act with generosity and nobility toward those less privileged. Thomas and Martha Wayne ingrained this feeling of responsibility into Bruce by example, and as all things related to them, he obsesses over it. It urges him to fulfill expectations within segments of society he finds onorous for the betterment of society as a whole in order to carry out their unfinished works.

Enter Brucie.

Brucie serves a two-fold purpose. Since Bruce has chosen to maintain personas among society, it becomes a false face to justify any oddities Batman might bring into the life of Bruce Wayne by setting himself up as a eccentric, popular social scion. But that persona itself also allows him to manipulate the upper crust of society.

I have some insider perspective on the kind of society events Brucie attends. They’re all about the who’s who of making connections, name-dropping and networking, and unspoken class-based elitism. Charity events among the upper class have these things at the forefront and the cause is the background. You don’t get your hands dirty, you don’t go out and make change yourself, you pay money to be socially seen and sometimes it happens to go towards a philanthropic cause. If you want to raise money from the rich and keep people with deep pockets coming in the door, you have to have social currency yourself. This is where, and why, Brucie comes in. I believe Brucie ws crafted to maintain Batman’s cover but still attempt to carry on his parents’ legacy to grease the wheels of the rich in the directions he chooses: one of generosity towards those less privileged.

Superman/Batman #51

The inevitable flaw of Bruce’s approach to his personas and their philanthropy is that in a city rife with corruption, money distributed from the top has many opportunities to disappear well before it reaches the bottom. As in many of ways they are complements to each other, Dick’s approach balances that out, because his approach to helping his fellow man starts out at the street level...literally.

Nightwing #153 (Nightwing: The Great Leap)

Dick, we know, does not come from privilege. His mother was from a middle class family before she joined the circus, and despite being world famous athletes, most circus workers are lower to middle class. The people he grew up with, was comfortable with, were all working folk who expected everyone to pull their weight right alongside each other. He enacts this everyone-together approach in almost all aspects and phases of his life.

Batman #615

Even once he had settled into being Robin and adapted to living at the manor, he didn’t feel belonging to a culture of privilege, materialism, or high society. He preferred shotgun in the limo to chat with the driver to riding fancy in the back. Once he was able to start making his own decisions about where and how he lived, despite having both Bruce’s money and then later inheriting a substantial amount of his own, he chose mostly lower-class communal places.

Batman Black and White #6

Dick also doesn’t see the value of throwing money at a problem when there is an option to fix it with his own hands. We see this frequently, from building his own car instead of buying a finished one or outsourcing the work, to deciding the best way to clean out the BPD was to start at the bottom and work his way up (literally), to quitting college because his classes never got prioritized over crimesolving. Most of his day jobs ended for similar reasons.

Nightwing #153 (Nightwing: The Great Leap)

Despite the showmanship training, he gravitates away from spotlight on the rich and wealthy, who are notoriously the kind of people who do not get their hands dirty or go out and take care of things themselves, and prefers to find or build communities around the kind of people who do.

Finally, Dick is an extrovert. He doesn’t need to act extroverted as Brucie does because he is extroverted. He likes people and likes being around people. Whether by conscious choice or not, he tends to put himself in situations where he is surrounded by people in nearly all aspects of his life. He chooses apartment buildings whose occupants frequently pass each other on the stairs; jobs that involve interacting with many co-workers, patrons, or students; and collects superhero teammates like Boy Scout badges. And all of these behaviors come very naturally to him.

He doesn’t need a mask or a role or a persona for those kind of interactions; his mask is pre-supplied as “neighbor” or “co-worker” or “teacher” by the situations he puts himself in. It helps make him an exemplary leader, because just by acting authentically to himself, he automatically builds up little communities around him any time he arrives somewhere.

Bruce, on the other hand, is an introvert. For him, interacting with people isn’t easy, automatic, or comfortable unless it has a purpose, but as a strategist, he knows the necessity of human interaction as a catalyst to achieving dynamic change. So he adapts personas to suit people’s expectations. Extroverts have more social currency; the life of the party can generate more resources than a brooding wallflower.

So, it boils down to just a few elements: Dick believes in living and interacting at the street level to accomplish the things that he wants to, and he is extroverted enough that the level of social interaction that entails is not a burden to him. He surrounds himself with the types of people he is more familiar or perhaps more comfortable with, which happens to keep him further out from the media’s eye than associating with the upper crust does. The lower profile is more incidental than intentional, but it lessens his need to have a cover story for every single bruise and lets him get away with even less of a ‘persona’.

Bruce, on the other hand, is introverted and follows a more classist view that systemic change needs to be effected from the top down. His personas are more of a self-assumed duty than a necessity, as a way of trying to carry out his parents’ legacy. Any of his children could have chosen to follow his path in business or the high society limelight, but the sense of obligation toward it is something personal to him that most of them don’t share.

#bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #character analysis #dc #comics #meta #o.c.#bruce wayne analysis #bruce + dick #asks #anonymous #cover stories

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thebestworstidea · 3 years

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Pretty Boy

@dukeceitweek day 4: Free Day!

I do not apologize for this turn of the century Pretty Woman-A/B/O mashup. In fact I can pretty much guarantee I’m going to be coming back to it when I have more time.

Notes on the setting: Alphas and Omegas make up less than a third of the population. Nobility tries to breed for them, but it’s still kind of a genetic toss up, so you’ll find them in all social strata. Due to period-typical psudoscience, it has become popular for omegas, who were traditionally strong protective types, to be seen more are delicate beings like ladies who require protection; where as Alphas instead of being providers and innovators, are leaders and protectors. Polyamory is not unusual, even among betas.

warnings: sexwork, gambling, drinking, brief violence, prejudice, non traditional A/B/O dynamics.

---

It had been a long day, week, month, year, and Janus Tromperie just wanted to cut loose a little. It wasn’t exactly respectable, but it wasn’t unreasonable for a gentleman of certain means to go down to the dockward parts of the city and indulge in a bit of gambling, drinking and even whoring. It was a little dangerous, but that was part of the thrill. Appropriate caution removed most of the danger- not taking to much money with you, wearing clothes just bit out of fashion and shabby, taking a gentleman down to middle class. Janus was on the slender side, but tall and with the scent of a well-fed-Alpha. He wore his blond hair romantically long and his face bare. Watching the seedy going ons of the docks was safe enough. He had very little urge to join in on it, besides a few bets on fist fights and a round or two of cards- always bowing out before he won much, and unable to be goaded into staying longer. The harder they pushed, the more likely he was to leave, in fact.

That was more or less why he was much further into the seedy side than he normally went. As he was passing an open doorway, another man collided with him. Immediately he assumed it was a pickpocket, but no hands slipped into his pockets, instead they steadied him where he’d almost tripped. Another man sidled out the doorway of what seemed to be a bar, if the stench of old beer and gin was any indication, walking away purposely.

“S’cuse me.” he said, and dove at the other man, grabbing him by the back of the coat and whipping him around. There were visible muscles in his upper arm, straining against the dull gray fabric of his shirt sleeves. He was remarkably under-dressed for the evening.

Janus’s nostrils flared and he opened his mouth slightly to scent better. The man who’d collided with him was an Omega- how interesting. There were lots of scents around him, beta and alpha both. More than one, which was surprising, considering how rare they were.

“This ain’t no dine and dash, fuckhead.” the omega snarled. “Pay up.”

“Slut.” the other man retorted, and tried to punch him. “You’d do it for free.”

The omega’s hand lashed out, and squeezed around his throat.

“Yeah, if someone was worth doing. You I’d charge double for, if only to pay to lay the itch.”

The implication was fairly clear, and Janus gave a snort of amusement. A whore beating up a john on their own was the best entertainment he’d seen tonight. The john glared at him over the omega’s shoulder.

“How about some help?” he demanded.

Janus actually laughed. The omega shoved the other man, then took a step back into the lantern light, going through a leather billfold neither of them had noticed him taking. That only made Janus unobtrusively check his own again. Both the decoy and his actual wallet were in place and intact.

“Give that back-” the john took a swing and the omega flicked the billfold into his face, sidestepping and tripping him.

“Fuck yourself, next time.” he suggested charmingly bearing sharp white teeth, tucking the money he’d taken into his shirt. The john tried to get up and the omega stepped on his hand, making him snarl. Oh, that’s where the other alpha scent was coming from, this just got funnier and funnier.

“You little pissant omega whore.”

“Yep.” He drove the heel of his shoe down on his hand. “Listen, lobcock, I don’t have to play nice. You got what you tried not to pay for.” He raised his foot and the other man snatched his billfold from the gutter. Trying to stand with dignity, he checked the contents, and opened his mouth, presumably to say something. The omega gave an aborted lunge, snapping his teeth feraly, and the alpha disappeared into the night.

There was silence for a long moment- well, not silence. There was the faint whistle of a nearby lamp burning, and the sound of revelry in the bar nearby. If Janus strained his ears, he could even hear other people taking their pleasure in the rooms above, and one particularly loud noise from the actual brothel a street over.

The omega was thick and solid as they often were. Despite the spreading ideal that omegas should be slender and giving, they tended to be thick and tough, suited for protecting their young and mates. His eyes were wild and a little sunken, but that did nothing to disguise his good, almost aristocratic, looks. If he was clean and properly dressed, he would have been better looking than most people Janus had been set up with last season. Though that might have more to do with being fully grown instead of young. He stroked his hair- uncut and wild- back, and smoothed the small, surprisingly well groomed mustache that decorated his face. Shrugging one arm out of his vest, he shifted the suspender that had been outside it to it’s proper place, and buttoned the garment up against the evening chill. Then he seemed to realize that he was being observed.

“Are you waiting for a better apology?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. “Cuz honestly, nicest bounce I’ve had for a while, too enjoyable to apologize more for.”

Janus gave a startled laugh, realizing he hadn't said anything, just staring.

“So you’re a prostitute?” Janus asked.

“What was your first clue?” He looked at his nails.

“Do you have a pimp?”

“Dangerous questions, mandrake snake.” But he spread his hands, indicating the foggy night outside a bar, with no one but them in sight.

“How would you like a job?”

“Not looking for one, so you know.”

“Not looking to be one, to be clear.” Janus retorted.

“So just a normal getting green on?” He said thoughtfully. “Well, I’m probably not gonna get welcomed back in there just yet.” the omega looked over his shoulder at the bar. “But I might have a slot open for you.”

This was a terrible idea. This definitely wasn’t why he came here. But it was entertaining.

“No, not a normal hire.” Janus walked in a slow circle, taking in his appearance further, trying not to be too obvious about smelling. While he smelled of several betas and a couple of alphas, his underlying scent was fairly healthy, no twinge of sickness. It was a deep mossy scent, inviting like the forest after rain, thick with mud. His clothes could have been second hand, or they could have just been worn hard. “I’m in need for a more… prolonged companion. At least a week.”

He choked out a laugh.

“Oh you’re a trip to Bedlam and back, aren’t you?” the omega leaned in towards him, and Janus didn’t lean away as his nostrils flared, not being subtle or polite about taking in Janus’s cologne, the faint remnants of his dinner, and the whiskey he’d drunk. “Who are you looking to piss off? Parents? A fiancee jilt you? No wait-” he held up a finger. “You’re trying to jilt someone!”

“You’ll just have to take the hire to find out won’t you?” Janus’s mouth tipped up at the corner.

“Let’s talk terms then.”

“Here?”

“I haven’t lived this long by following strange and handsome men with no guarantees.”

“Very well, how about the bar two streets over?” Janus jerked his head in the right direction. It was in the direction of the seedy dance halls and cabarets, but still within in the dockside sprawl.

“I can do that.”

“Do you need to retrieve anything?”

He smoothed down his vest, and pulled a thin scarf out of his pocket, tying it with practiced movements into a tie of sorts.

“This is as good as it gets.” he informed Janus. They started strolling in the indicated direction.

“It occurs to me, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Janus Tromperie.” He tipped his head at the omega, offering a gloved hand.

“Makes no difference to me what you call yourself.” He said, shrugging a shoulder without removing his hands from his pockets. Well, “But you can call me Remus.”

“Well Remus, I hope it will be a pleasure.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.”

#willow is writing #Dukeceit #fanfiction #dukeceit week

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bushyhair · 4 years

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❝ then he said, leaning forward: ‘you’re strange animals, you women intellectuals. tell me: what’s it like to be a woman?’ i took my rifle from behind my chair and shot him dead. ‘it’s like that,’ i said. ❞ merlin’s beard, what is ( HERMIONE GRANGER ) doing out at this hour? for a ( MUGGLEBORN ) who is ( 47 ) years old, ( SHE ) really ought to know better. you know, i hear that they’re aligned with ( THE ORDER ), but that could be just a rumor. i do know that they’re a ( CIS WOMAN ) and a ( GRYFFINDOR ) alum who works as a ( POLITICAL ACTIVIST ) though. they’re very ( DAUNTLESS ) and ( ANALYTICAL ) but also quite ( VINDICTIVE ) and ( ACERBIC ), which could be why they remind of ( DESPERATELY SEARCHING FOR ANSWERS THE ONLY WAY YOU KNOW HOW – IN A DARK, MUSTY LIBRARY FILLED WITH ANCIENT TOMES WRITTEN IN LANGUAGES LONG DEAD TO MANKIND – BUT NOT TO YOU; A CEASELESS TUG-OF-WAR BETWEEN YOUR BRAIN AND YOUR HEART, BETWEEN RATIONALE AND COMPASSION; THE CELESTIAL HEAVENS THAT YOU CARRY ON YOUR SHOULDERS NOW THAT ATLAS IS NO LONGER AROUND TO BEAR THE BURDEN FOR YOU ). some people say they’re the spitting image of ( GUGU MBATHA RAW ), but i’ve never heard of them. word on the street is that they’re ( THE ERUDITE ) and their prophecy is ( PROPHECY 54 ), but only time will tell if that’s true or not. [ SARAH, 23, SHE/HER, PST ]

parallels: spencer hastings (pretty little liars), elphaba thropp (wicked), annabeth chase (percy jackson), amy santiago (brooklyn 99), sydney sage (bloodlines), beatrice (much ado about nothing), cristina yang (grey’s anatomy), monse finnie (on my block), jal fazer (skins), peggy carter (marvel cinematic universe)

hermione was something of a miracle baby (and a complete surprise). the couple found each other later in life than most, and they’d long since given up trying to conceive as her father was in his fifties and her mother was pushing forty. nevertheless, even though she was unexpected, her parents showered her with love and affection – they had always wanted a baby girl to call their own. hermione would be their one and only.

[ HOLOCAUST TW ] her parents named her hermione after the virtuous queen of sicily in shakespeare’s the winter’s tale and the only daughter of king menelaus and queen helen in greek mythology. her middle name is jean, which is a female variant of the name john, meaning “god is gracious”. i think hermione is, albeit probably unintentionally by jkr, coded as jewish (her appearance, how she faces oppression for her blood by the death eaters/voldemort which are analogies for the nazis/hitler/the holocaust, how she isn’t shown to have a particular attachment to christmas and rarely goes home for the holidays, etc.). thus, i’ve headcanoned that she comes from an interfaith family; her mom was christian and her dad was jewish, and they raised her with both religions with the intention of letting her pick when she grew older. while she is not spiritual and ultimately considers herself to be an atheist, she’s still very proud of her interfaith heritage. anyways, her parents didn’t actually name her jean because of its religious meaning; they named her after jean valjean from les misérables. much like her parents, hermione is also a fan of victor hugo’s work, and that was why she named one of her children hugo.

her father never spoke about how he was a victim of the holocaust, how he almost didn’t survive, how he lost his entire family to the war. sometimes hermione saw the number tattoo on his arm, and her own battle scars felt like they were on fire. her father was a survivor of the second world war, and she is a survivor of the second wizarding war. now more than ever, she understands the trauma, grief, and survivor’s guilt that he tried so desperately to shield her from. it is the same pain that she now carries. [ END TW ]

[ RACISM, BULLYING, AND ANTISEMITISM TW ] there were almost no black children in the posh neighborhood she was raised in, and hermione always felt out of place among her white classmates at the expensive primary school she attended. growing up, despite being upper middle class and an incredibly well-behaved child, she of course still experienced her fair share of racism due to her black and jewish heritage – dirty looks on the street by complete strangers, mean schoolchildren declaring her ugly for not meeting westernized beauty standards (especially when it came to her hair), shopkeepers keeping a watchful eye on her when she entered their stores, adults assuming she couldn’t possibly be as intelligent as her white peers. not only was it demoralizing to little hermione, it was enraging. she developed an overwhelming need to prove herself and her capabilities – she always had to work so much harder than white children to be properly recognized, but every year, she still outperformed everyone else. of course, young hermione was seen as rather swotty, condescending, and insufferable by her classmates, so she was incredibly unpopular. her only friends were her parents, and the one place where she actually felt like she belonged was the library. books were an escape, a refuge. they offered her some comfort in an otherwise comfortless world. little did she know that this world was not truly her world – that there was something else waiting for her.

hermione developed a strict adherence to following the rules and an unwavering respect for authority partly because of the prejudice she faced from an early age. as a young black girl, she knew that if she did not present herself to be well behaved, responsible, and mature – if she ever acted out in any way – there could be a high price to pay. black children were punished (or hurt – or even killed) for very, very little. while she eventually outgrew this behavior as she found her place in the wizarding world, it took her a little time to blossom into the revolutionist that she is today.

when she first came to the wizarding world, she noticed a stark contrast in how she was treated by most people upon first glance. after all, it wasn’t as though blood purists could tell that she was muggleborn simply by looking at her (even though she didn’t realize that was what it was initially). and because of the difference that she noticed, she had hope that maybe – just maybe – this was somehow a world free of prejudice and racism, a world in which she could finally find belonging in. but of course, the wizarding world was not quite as she first thought. there was still prejudice; it was merely towards a different group of people. mudblood. when draco malfoy first spat out that venomous word in reference to her, she didn’t immediately know just what it meant, but she understood well enough. she’d been called slurs before. hermione was once again rattled with that familiar fury. she was top of her year, with an extraordinary amount of power, but still she was viewed by many as inferior. she vowed to prove her worth and become an instrument of change. she would fight for herself, her friends, her parents, the enslaved house elves, and the other muggleborns. if this world tried to tell her she did not belong there either, she would show them all that she did. she would be the best and the brightest – better than draco, pansy, and anyone else who tried to diminish her. and that was just what she did. it wasn’t enough for her though. [ END TW ]

because while hermione might have been a know-it-all who seemed rather confident in her abilities, the truth was that she was deeply insecure and terrified of failure. identified as highly gifted from a young age, this unintentionally placed an insurmountable pressure on her to overachieve in order to measure up to those high standards – to confirm to everyone, including and especially herself, that she really was as intelligent as they all thought she was. and to make matters worse, whether she was in the muggle world or the wizarding world, she always had something to prove. (in fact, she was only able to attend her expensive private school because of the scholarship that was granted to her due to her high marks and test scores. because while she was upper middle class, her family still wasn’t wealthy enough to send her there otherwise.) she somewhat grew out of her insecurities as the years went by – she’s proud of who she is and knows that she’s capable – but some of her insecurities still linger to this day. that compulsive need to be perfect will never truly go away. it’s an innate part of her now.

[ PHYSICAL ASSAULT TW ] even though she is extremely socially conscious and compassionate, she is very much a paradox and can often be abrasive, insensitive, and overly blunt. she’s also far more ruthless than she appears to be at first glance – this is the girl who destroyed marietta edgecombe’s face when she dared to betray the d.a., erased her parents’ memories, set a professor on fire, imprisoned rita skeeter in a jar and blackmailed her, and left umbridge to the centaurs to rot. while she does have a rigid sense of morals, she’s vindictive and will ultimately do what is necessary to achieve the right outcome. she honestly does not regret any of these actions – the ends justified the means in hermione’s opinion. (aka draco malfoy should consider himself lucky she only slapped his sorry arse so hard that he bruised) [ END TW ]

[ DEMENTIA/ALZHEIMER’S AND PARENTAL DEATH TW ] once the dust settled after the battle of hogwarts, after the seemingly endless funerals and memorials, she left everyone behind for a few months to search for her parents in australia and bring them back home. tracking them down took several weeks in and of itself, but once she finally found them, she quickly realized that she had her work cut out for herself. memory magic is an incredibly intricate process because it involves reconstructing the brain, and without proper training, it can easily go awry. she spent many days working on properly restoring their memories, and even after she was sure that she had done it perfectly, something was still wrong. the doctors ended up diagnosing her father with early stage alzheimer’s. although her friends reassured her that it wasn’t her fault, she still blamed herself for this – her father was well past middle aged, but perhaps his mind would not have deteriorated so much if she hadn’t cast those memory charms. she began distancing herself from her parents early on in her school career, opting to spend her holidays with ron and harry instead of trying to fit into a magicless world she no longer belonged in, and she became wracked with guilt and regret for pushing her parents away even if it was partially for their safety and peace of mind. she thought she would have more time than this, years to make up for it all. there wasn’t. a few years down the line, her father finally succumbed to his dementia and passed away, her mother following very soon after. although she died of natural causes, it was almost as though she couldn’t bear being apart from the love of her life, to go on living in a world without him. [ END TW ]

[ PTSD, DEATH, PARENTAL DEATH, GRIEF, PHYSICAL ASSAULT, AND TORTURE TW ] at some point, she returned to hogwarts to complete her seventh year, determined to graduate with all o’s on her n.e.w.t.s, and of course she succeeded because she’s hermione and she buried herself in her schoolwork, very much as a distraction from her grief, her trauma, the diminishing health of her father, and her newfound fame. being a war hero thrust hermione into the spotlight, and at first, she didn’t know how to handle it in the slightest. through time, she came to use her celebrity status to become a voice for the oppressed – house elves, werewolves, other muggleborns – because again, she’s hermione and she wouldn’t be hermione without her vehemence for social justice.

upon graduation, she landed herself a job in the department for the control and regulation of magical creatures. she stayed there for a while before transferring to the department of magical law enforcement. she never considered herself going into magical law when she was younger, but she soon realized that it was the only way she would be able to bring lasting change to a long broken system. for several years, hermione immersed herself in her work as much as she could. it was absolutely a coping mechanism, especially after her parents passed. as always, she was constantly fretting over her loved ones, asking them multiple times a week if they were alright and reassuring them that she was always here if they need a shoulder to lean on, but she hadn’t quite dealt with the fact that she wasn’t alright, not by a long shot. in fact, she was barely holding it together. rather than living, she was merely surviving, and it wasn’t for herself. her work and her friends were the only real reasons she managed to drag herself out of bed every morning. she hadn’t properly grieved the people she lost, and she suffered from petrifying night terrors, and the worst ones were of bellatrix torturing her in malfoy manor. she tried everything to remove or cover her scars from the incident, but as they were magically carved into her by curses of bellatrix’s own creation, she wasn’t able to. eventually, she gave up, deciding she would wear them as signs of her courage and resilience. but there were still those nights where she woke up from a chilling nightmare, wailing and thrashing. she cast muffling charms on her room every night as a precaution. she couldn’t even bear to visit her parents’ graves, too overcome by guilt, knowing in her heart that their deaths were her fault. she didn’t know how to carry that pain.

eventually, she settled down with ron and had two children with him, and slowly, with her two best friends by her side, she started to heal from her war wounds. there was no orderly, linear process to follow, like the five stages of grief. it was messy, and it was hard, but she pushed through it. she sought therapy at the urging of her friends, learning how to better handle her emotions, especially the ones involving grief. it took time, but she learned to live to again. she was able to move on and finally forgive herself. she healed – only for that arduous work to be undone when the third wizarding war started and the world fell into shambles again.

hermione was angry. she was so angry at the world for putting them all through this again. so many people died to prevent another war from happening, and despite her best efforts to make their sacrifices count -- to make it all mean something -- it seemed like it was all for naught in the end. after all, here they were again -- the same fight. always the same fight, with most of the same people.

and then harry died. then harry, her best friend, died for the second time, and hermione’s world shattered into pieces. it was only her love for her family and her vehemence for justice that gave her the strength to move on--but only barely so. she knew that she would never completely heal from it all. the truth was that when harry died, a part of her died along with him. he was not only her first friend but her true best friend (because ron had always been something else, something much more complicated). she considered him to be a brother, and she always did everything she could to help and protect him. she loved him so much, and she would’ve died for him without a second thought. they all would have. his death -- along with her parents’ deaths -- will always be her biggest failures, and she will forever blame herself for them. what good is it – being so smart – if she couldn’t save the ones that she loved the most? once her boggart was failing her exams, but now it is harry and her parents telling her the truth that she already knows – that their deaths were her failure and her fault. of course, this boggart is as irrational as the one she had in her childhood. harry and her parents would never say such a thing. logically, hermione knows this, but she still blames herself all the same – even if they would never, even if it’s not truly her fault.

then, miraculously, harry evaded death once more, coming back to life like the messiah himself -- but at the price of the life of one of her dearest friends. she’s even more furious now, but that anger doesn’t have anywhere to go. ultimately, she knows that even though it was the foolhardy, reckless knights who performed the ritual, the blame rests on the order’s shoulders. they failed their children. they drove them to this. in a way, she truly understands why the knights did what they did because she missed harry with all her heart and would have given (almost) anything to see him one more time, but still, it horrifies her. she wanted him back -- she is so grateful to have him back -- but not like this. not at the price of neville longbottom’s life. this is beyond anything she could have ever conceived. this is an aberration. it should have been impossible. and yet, here her best friend is, alive and (almost) well. she never expected that she would ever have him back, but now when he looks at her without any recognition in his face, she cannot help but be reminded of her father’s death all over again.

in the end, she will keep going on, and she will fight until her last dying breath to protect her loved ones and the world, but she’s so tired. how many times will they all have to fight the same war? how many more people will have to die for them to finally end this – for good this time? will this ever truly be over, or is humanity doomed to make the same mistakes and fight the same wars forever? for the girl who’s supposed to have all of the answers, even she doesn’t know.

it should be noted that hermione has never believed in prophecies or even divination at all, and even now that harry is alive, she still doesn’t. ultimately, she would argue that the reason why harry came back to life isn’t because it was destined in any way but because the knights truly believed in the prophecy and thus made it happen, much like how voldemort marked harry as his equal out of his doing after he heard trelawney’s first prophecy. in a way, it was almost a self-fulfulling prophecy. in the end, hermione doesn’t believe in predestined fate, and she never will. instead, she intends to shape her own future.

edit: also! i forgot to mention that, before the ministry was taken over, hermione was head of the department of magical law enforcement, but when she was thrust out of her position, she made the decision to dedicate herself to the order fully. hermione has never been minister of magic in this verse. although the ministry was never perfect by any means, she was a strong supporter of minister shacklebolt and worked with him personally for many years. ultimately, she was fairly content where she was at before all of this, but who knows what could happen if and when the war ends. [ END TW ]

#rev intros #no graphic this time #i really just want to get this out #it's super rushed oops

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ateamare · 3 years

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An Open Letter to Corporate America

Dear Leadership in Corporate America,

I find it strikingly discriminatory that the standard internship opportunity is unpaid. Not only is this blatantly classist but it is also flat out racist; not providing pay for internships puts a barrier up for underprivileged students, who are typically people of color. Someone’s socioeconomic status should not hinder them from having reasonable access to a professional career that they are well qualified for. Marginalized students often work hard and dedicate their time and effort into getting the best grades they can to “make it” in this world, yet they are often denied the opportunity because they cannot get the job they worked so hard to be qualified for. They cannot get the job because of their upbringing. They cannot get the job because they had to work while attending school just to get by. They cannot get the job because they had to work full-time to help their families. They cannot get the job because it is unpaid. They cannot get the job because of YOU.

I have a question: Do you know what privilege is? I’m sure you’re “well versed” on the term but let me break it down for you anyway. Privilege is affording opportunities to people while denying them to others. It is not looking at things from an outsider’s perspective because the outcome simply does not affect you. It is ignoring the fact that people of all backgrounds are deserving of equal opportunities. By not offering paid internships, you are inevitably hurting yourselves; not only are you enforcing a lack of diversity in the workplace, but you are also missing out on the chance to bring in hardworking, well qualified students that could further enrich your company. By not offering paid internships, you are allowing the systemic oppression that has plagued America for so long to continue in this world. You are allowing hundreds of applicants to walk out the door before even stepping in; many students take one look at an application and read the word “unpaid” and wistfully click out of the tab. They move on to the next hundred applications, sifting through application after application, in hopes of finding the one that does not contain that six-letter slap in the face.

Before you come after me with your #AllLivesMatter points, I am not saying that there aren’t underprivileged white people in America, nor am I saying that privileged people aren’t just as deserving. I am stating the fact that underprivileged students, who typically come from marginalized communities, deserve the chance at an equal opportunity. They deserve to be seen and by not offering compensation for internships, these students are invisible to you. Their resumes and applications go unseen because the student does not apply, because they do not have access to reliable transportation or housing, or because the job requires full-time commitment which denies them of the opportunity of getting a part-time job. Let us dive into a stock example of what it truly means to deny marginalized people equal opportunities, maybe then you’ll take a deeper look at yourselves and what you are doing to so many students across America.

Setting. Analise Lopez and Alexis Smith are at a Career Fair at their University. They run into each other at a table for a well-known Public Relations Firm in Downtown Dallas. They are acquaintances but have only spoken to each other in a social setting. Analise Lopez is a Chicana student from a lower middle-class background who attends the University on scholarship, her father is not in the picture and her mother works 50+ hours a week as a healthcare worker. She has dreamed of this opportunity since she decided to major in Public Relations. Alexis Smith is a white student from an upper-class background whose parents currently pay for her tuition and expenses, her father works for an accredited law firm and her mother is a homemaker. She wants to work for a Public Relations Firm to be in the city and get away from her hometown. Both women really want to work for the PR Firm and have the qualifications needed to apply. Analise is a 4.0 student with work experience who has created her own mock website to present to the firm and Alexis is a 3.0 student without work experience who has not put thought into the interview because of her close relationship to the firm.

Alexis: Oh my goodness, it’s so nice to run into a familiar face! Are you applying for the internship here too? I think the open interviews are next Monday!

Analise: Hey girl! I am, I’ve been wanting to apply for a while so I’m so excited they have a table here!

Alexis: Right! My dad is close friends with the CFO so I’m sure he worked some magic to get them here. I’ve literally wanted to work for John for forever so I cannot wait. He’s such a cool guy! Ugh, and I just can’t wait to live in the city! Are you planning on getting a place in downtown if you get the job?

Analise: I don’t know about downtown but I’ll probably try to live as close to the city as possible. Getting to use the DART is going to be so convenient with it being a full-time internship. But it honestly depends on how much they pay though… [flips flyer over] I don’t see that anywhere on the flyer.

Alexis: Oh! It’s actually unpaid. I thought you knew? I’m sure you can find a place close by though, girl! There are SO many cute apartments in the city. Plus, you can always ask your parents to help. I talked my dad into getting Jen and I an apartment super close to the office so maybe your parents will too! [overly excited] OMG! And we could meet for happy hours! That would be so much fun!

Analise: [stunned and embarrassed at not knowing the internship was unpaid] Oh. Yeah, that would be so fun…I’ve got to go change for work. I’ll see you later, okay?

Alexis: Okay, girl! See you at the interview!

[Analise throws the flyer in the trashcan as she exits the building]

Although this is clearly a stock story, it depicts the very real experience of so many students at universities across America. Analise is a well-qualified student whose resume could have possibly exceeded many other applicants’ yet because the internship was unpaid, she didn’t even bother applying. She knew that an unpaid 40-hour work week was not an option for her, though she tried playing several scenarios in her head of making it work. Had she gotten the job, she would have had to get a part time job nearby to afford housing, she would have also had to find an apartment and job that were close to the DART station since she didn’t have her own means of transportation and her family’s home was 45 minutes away from the city, so commuting was out of the question. Unfortunately, it was not an option for her.

As a marginalized woman myself, this hits far too close to home. I have looked into working for so many of my “dream companies” only to find that their internship opportunities were unpaid. When a person experiences things such as these over and over again, there comes a point in which they become desensitized to the experience, no longer seeing it as something that has the capacity to change but as something that is customary and inevitable. Students should not have to settle for their fourth or seventeenth options because of this; there needs to be a paradigm shift across corporate America and it needs to happen yesterday. As a marginalized person, I am tired of the discrimination and lack of diversity in corporate America; people from all backgrounds need equal access to the career of their choosing. So seriously, pay your interns.

Sincerely,

A Very Tired (Almost) Intern

Works Cited

1. “About Us.” Payourinterns.org, payourinterns.org/.

2. Delgado, Richard. “Storytelling for Oppositionists and Others: A Plea for Narrative.” Michigan Law Review, vol. 87, no. 8, 1989, pp. 2411–2441.

3. Cook, Daniella Ann. "Blurring the boundaries: The mechanics of creating composite characters." Handbook of critical race theory in education. Routledge, 2013. 201-214.

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my-emotional-self · 5 years

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His Cinderella

Pairings: Chris x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Unloving Parents, Fluff

Request: I’d love to request a Chris x Reader story from you! I’m always on a Cinderella kick so I would love something fluffy where Chris is charmed by your wallflower/shy personality at some kind of event where you’re dressed up and feeling out of place. He’s with you for hours, laughing and dancing, letting you forget about your ungrateful family who can’t know you’re there. But when you flee, Chris gets your number and name.

Requested By: @brastrangled

“Oh come on Y/N. Please?? Pretty pretty please??” your best friend begged from the other end of the phone as you sat on your bed.

“You know I can’t do that Sarah. You know how my parents are,” you replied with a sigh.

Sarah groaned into the phone. “Trust me. I know how your parents are. I still can’t get over the fact that they treat you like you are ten years old.”

It was true, your parents definitely didn’t treat you like your age, which was 24 years old. Your whole life it felt like they didn’t want you at all. But you knew your mother couldn’t get an abortion as her own parents would have removed her from their wills.

The only reason you were putting up with it now was because they were paying for all of your schooling; which was also another thing your grandparents made sure to put in their wills before dying.

As long as you lived at home during your schooling and did all the chores around the house, you got to live there rent free and your school fully paid for and to be honest, you couldn’t complain. People drowned in debt from college these days and to be able to have all your degrees and not pay a dime, it was something you could live with for a little while longer.

Normally most people would be done with school by now, but you were going for your Master’s degree in Psychology so you still had a little bit longer to go.

“Y/N!” there was a loud bang on your door before your mother opening it, grimacing at you. “Your father and I are going out tonight to a charity event in upstate. It won’t end until late and the earliest we will be home is 1 am. Get the house cleaned up.” She slammed your door shut, the loud noise making you jump.

“Well that solves that issue,” Sarah said and you could hear the smile on her face.

~~~

Sarah came over to the large penthouse apartment you lived at with your parents on the Upper East side of New York; two garment bags in hand. Luckily, your younger twin sisters were going with your parents. They were both 18 years old and your parents loved them dearly; showering them with lavish gifts, but most of all, love. They were both bratty towards you and they were the worst part of living at home.

“Tell me how you got us into this again?” you asked as the two of you worked together at cleaning the house before getting ready.

“Well, it was my cousins boyfriends best friend who managed to snack two extra tickets.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the depths your best friend went through to get these tickets. At the same time, you didn’t even know exactly what this party was you were going to. All you knew was that it was black tie affair, and that there would be celebrities there. Luckily it was taking place on the Upper East side so you would be close to home in case you needed to rush back quickly.

Once the cleaning was finished, Sarah helped you get ready by doing your hair and makeup. You were never one for getting dolled up and fancy, mainly because your parents practically kept you a secret and never let you go to any fancy charities or dinners with them and their friends, so you had no need for it. Also, your parents didn’t really let you out of the house at all, except for school. It wasn’t a secret you knew they were ashamed of you, all because they had you at the young age of 16. They weren’t the greatest parents, but you knew you could have had worse. At least they paid for your schooling and you had shelter, food and clothing all for free. Just a little while longer and you would be out of their hair for good.

Once Sarah was done, you looked in the mirror, not even recognizing yourself. Your eyes popped with the mascara and eyeshadow; your lips a beautiful deep red color. “Wow,” you breathed out as you stared at yourself in the mirror.

“I know. You’re hot,” Sarah smirked at her work of art. “We are going to find you a man tonight!”

~~~

The Uber ride was short to the party as your hands began to fidget in your lap. You were wearing a long one strapped black evening gown. It hugged your chest and waist and flowed out from the hips and down to your feet. You had to give Sarah props as she knew your exact dress size; it fit like a glove.

Getting inside the party was rather easy as you only had to show your I.D and your ticket. Looking around the large ballroom your mouth hung open at how beautifully it was decorated. There was a large crystal chandelier right in the middle and dozens of round tables littered the floor for people to sit and eat.

There was a full open bar off to the right side of the room, and to the left was a D.J setting up in front of the dance floor.

“Come on, let’s go get us a drink,” Sarah said, pulling you towards the bar.

~~~

The two of you had been there nearly an hour and you looked down to check the time on your phone. It was nine at night and you knew you couldn’t leave any later than 12:30 if you wanted to make it home before your parents. You were unsure of what type of punishment you would endure and you didn’t want to find out.

Most of the time they would take away your phone, or even your laptop which made researching and studying for school extremely difficult. If you were to fail a class, it only meant more time having to live at home with your parents and you certainly didn’t want to do that.

Looking at the dance floor you saw Sarah dancing with a guy she had just met. She left you about fifteen minutes ago, saying she was going out for a quick dance with the hottie but would be right back. You had a feeling you wouldn’t see her the rest of the night.

Sipping on your champagne, you sat alone at the bar, feeling ready to just give up and go home. This was supposed to be a fun night out for you, especially because you never get to have any of these nights. You felt completely out of place surrounded by all these beautiful people; inside, you felt like Cinderella.

“Hello,” a smooth sexy voice spoke from behind you.

Turning around, you couldn’t help but notice it was Chris Evans. You had never met a celebrity at all, but you knew how some people acted when they were around those who were famous. To you, they were just people who happened to be in the spotlight and you knew they didn’t deserve to be treated any differently.

But again, this was Chris Evans and you would be lying if you said you didn’t have a slight crush on him. He was standing tall in a black suit with a white undershirt; a cute black bowtie strapped around his neck. His beard was trimmed to perfection and his blue eyes were gazing intently at you.

“H-hi,” you stammered out, feeling yourself begin to blush.

He cleared his throat and took a glance down at the drink in his hand. “I couldn’t help notice that you’ve been sitting here for a while by yourself. I figured a beautiful woman shouldn’t be by herself at an event like this so I wanted to come over and introduce myself.”

His voice was smooth like butter, ringing through your ears like music. You had heard people say before how nice and genuine a person Chris was, and now you could see it for yourself.

“Oh, umm-that was really nice of you. I’m actually here with my best friend, but she seemed to ditch me for someone to dance with,” you shyly spoke.

“Well would you mind if I take a seat and keep you company?”

You turned to look back up at him, a smile forming on your lips. “I’d like that.”

For the next hour, the two of you talked easily. Chris couldn’t help but adore your shy personality in front of him and he truly enjoyed talking with you.

“Hey, do you maybe wanna dance?” he asked, motioning to the dance floor as a slow song came on.

Your heart began to race, but you knew you would never have an opportunity like this again. Nodding your head, he took your hand in his and led the way to the dance floor.

The song was a slow beat as he placed one hand in yours, the other placed gently on your lower back; your free hand cupping the back of his smooth neck.

You were grateful that he took the lead as you didn’t know how to dance; you were hoping you wouldn’t mess up too bad. “You’re a really good dancer,” you spoke quietly, nervously chewing on your inside cheek.

Chris smiled, letting out a small laugh. “My mom taught me. In fact she taught all of my siblings how to dance. I even learned how to tap dance when I was younger.”

“Is there any chance we will be seeing those dance moves tonight?” you teased.

His laughter was infections as his head dipped back. “Not tonight I’m afraid. I don’t think too many people would want to see that.”

“Too bad. Maybe another time then?”

His grin turned into a full faced smile, in turn making you smile as well. “I think that could be arranged.”

You both continued to sway together, keeping the conversation going.

At one point, the music was stopped and the D.J came across the microphone. “We would like to remind you that it will be last call at the bar as it closes in 30 minutes.”

“Damn, I can’t believe how late it has gotten. Time sure has flown by,” Chris spoke directly in your ear as the music was once again turned up.

Your eyes widened as you let go of him from your dancing position and grabbed your phone out of your little clutch purse. Lighting it up, you noticed it was 12:25 in the morning.

“Shit!” you cried out in panic. Looking up at Chris, you saw his eyes were wide. “I have to go. I’m sorry.” With spending your entire night with Chris, you had completely lost track of time and you also forgot about your overbearing parents; it honestly felt like you lived a normal life for once.

“Wait, is everything alright?” he asked but it was too later, you were already bunching your dress up and trying to squeeze through the guests to get out of there and back home.

By the time you made it to the front door of the ballroom, you felt a soft hand grab your arm. “Please wait,” Chris said with worry.

“I’m really sorry Chris. But I have to leave right now.”

“I didn’t even get your name.”

“Y/N. My name is Y/N,” you responded, feeling your heart begin to cease its racing just while being in his presence again.

“It’s a beautiful name. Do you-do you think I could get your number Y/N?” You could tell there was a nervous twinge to his voice and you thought it adorable. Giving him a nod, he handed you his cell phone and you punched in your number quickly before handing it back to him.

Feeling rather daring, you reached up on your toes and gave him a quick kiss to his cheek. A smile formed on his handsome face at your gesture and in a moment’s time, you were running out the door to get back home.

Tag List: @badassbaker @guera31 @tanelle83 @chrisevansfanfic @xjjlex @princess-evans-addict @joannie95 @pumbibaby @patzammit @brastrangled @mrs-captain-evans @notyourtypicalrose @sfreeborn @esoltis280 @xxloki81xx @bornfortherainydays @poerebel @livslookingforloki @raveviolet

#chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans imagine #chris evans one-shot #chris evans request

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purplesurveys · 3 years

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1025

Have you ever started reading a book and wondered if you’d read it before? I don’t read all that often so no, I don’t usually feel as though I’m encountering a book for the second time. I do read a lot of wrestlers’ memoirs and sometimes I’ll come across the same story told from two different accounts, but for the most part I’m able to tell who wrote which.

What has been bothering you a lot lately? This new and major life change still, obviously. I had a beautiful, grand vision of graduating college with a significant other and building our future together and supporting each other in whatever path we take, so having to dismantle all of that against my will and calling it a ‘bother’ is definitely an understatement.

What (or who) have you been missing lately? Everything pre-September. My life has been going downhill ever since. I do try to make life a little better for myself everyday, but I’d be lying to myself if I say life has been the same.

Are you trustworthy? Yes.

Did your parents teach that white lies were ok? They never taught me this specifically, but I can imagine that my mom is more the type to tell me something like this should the need arise.

Have you ever hallucinated? I don’t think so. The closest thing to hallucinating I experienced was when I was 5. I had a high fever and kept having these awful nightmares, and I could barely tell the difference between being in the nightmare and real life. If I remember correctly, I had already woken up after my grandma shook me but I was still in the nightmare ~AU~ and still kept yelling things that were relevant in my nightmare.

Do you sleep with your door open or closed? OMG, closed all the way. It would bother me to no end if the door was open, to the point that I probably wouldn’t even be able to fall asleep.

What flags do you have in your room, if any? I used to have a Pride flag but that’s gone now cos it was too muddy and dirty anyway.

What (or who) is the best thing that ever happened to you? I can think of more than one, honestly. There’s Gabie, my college life, my college org, and my first job that I’m actually incredibly happy in. Past me just wanted a job that can let me earn on my own, so it’s such a fun bonus to be happy where I am.

What is the worst decision you ever made? Allowing myself to be treated like shit because “this person will change one day, I just have to wait.” Ugh, I really need to start being nicer to myself.

Do you miss college? Yeah but with this COVID thing I’m kinda glad I got out of there just in time. I probably would’ve missed college a lot more if life had remained normal, but with the new norm being online classes and asynchronous learning and never getting to be in campus...I preferably wouldn’t want to take part in these things.

Have you ever called a teacher “mom”? No.

What is your favorite arcade game? I just go for the basketball ones every time. The piano blocks game is also fun, as well as the arcade beer pong.

Do you feel neglected? Yeah. I don’t really have a choice, though. It’s something I’ve had to adjust to.

What school subject(s) are/were your best? For both high school and college, I got my best grades in history classes and electives. I’m one of the rare species who doesn’t have a problem with – and actually enjoys – memorization, lol. I also did well in English lit and biology.

Are you allergic to grass? I don’t believe I’m allergic but in my old school my legs used to get extremely irritated with the grass we have over there and it would itch like a bitch. It definitely could’ve be an allergy, but I only ever got such a reaction in that place and it’s never happened anywhere else.

Do you remember to water plants? My parents like to take care of that chore, so I don’t have to remember to do so.

What season is your birthday in? Uhhhh according to the Western calendar lol, I think it’s spring? We don’t have that here though, and we don’t follow ‘seasons’ in general except for dry and wet.

Name 3 creative people you know. Nina, Berns, Andi.

Name 3 YouTubers you aspire to be like. I don’t really aspire to be like any of them...I watch certain YouTube channels because I find them entertaining, not because I necessarily want to be them. One video creator I watch whose life seems to be so perfect and whose life I certainly wouldn’t complain about if I suddenly had it, though, is Andi Manzano. Heart Evangelista’s a good pick, too.

What color was your first car? It’s white.

What year did you graduate? I graduated high school in 2016 and college in 2020. < Found a twin.

When was the last time you saw the person you currently have feelings for? Early September.

Have you ever been scammed? Hmm, I don’t think so.

Are you allergic to pollen? Nope.

What style of wedding dress do you like best? Something lace, backless to an extent, and preferably body-hugging as I don’t like dresses that would appear too poofy on me. Think Kate Middleton’s wedding dress but just slightly less poof on the bottom part.

Are you over your first love? No.

Do you talk on the phone a lot? I used to. I don’t anymore.

Would you rather call or text? Text, but if I had to explain something or if something had to be explained to me, I don’t mind getting into a call as long as I’m briefed first.

Do you always answer your phone? I never do unless I recognize the number. If it’s an unknown contact, I’m hitting Reject immediately because decent people text first before calling.

When was the last time you went to a party? Late Feb. It was the same party for Hans and his friends’ small business that had hit its first year that I’ve mentioned several times on here, ugh. Haven’t really been to any gatherings since then.

What was the last thing you ate? A chocolate donut from J.Co.

What’s the last book you checked out from the library? It’s a book summarizing the Philippines’ entire history that I wish I had more time to read and appreciate.

Do you have a twitter? Yeah but since the pandemic hit my tweets have been a lot less fun for obvious reasons, so I haven’t been using it a lot.

If so, what was the last thing you tweeted? “the things i do for @Mythical aaaaaahhhhhh 1 AM-9 AM livestream later and I still have work from 9 AM-6 PM tomorrow” then the dizzy emoji copy-pasted six times. SERIOUSLY though, timezones suck and I shake my fist at LA for being 16 hours behind lmaaaao, jk. But Good Mythical Morning has never had an all-day livestream before and they never said anything about archiving it on their channel when it’s over, so I don’t want to miss out. It’s whatevs, I’ll just drink a shitload of coffee tomorrow for work.

Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? I think it was my mom, but it’s been a while since that call.

What’s the last thing you cooked on the stove? I was making a Monte Cristo but it was to cook the egg mixture that I had coated the sandwich in, not cook the sandwich itself.

What color is the cover of the last notebook you used? Green. It was a freebie from the old PR agency I interned at, so it’s a little funny I’m now using it to take notes at my present agency.

Who was the last person you know to have a birthday? Gab’s youngest sister.

Who sent the last e-mail you got? It’s from a workmate, and I just got CC’d so it wasn’t addressed directly to me.

What song is currently stuck in your head? For the whole afternoon it had been Look After You by The Fray, so let’s just go with that.

Do you have a favorite shape? No.

What color are the sheets on your bed? Blue with some yellow and gold prints.

What time do you usually go to bed? 10:30 is a safe bedtime.

Do you ever use coloring books? I’ve got loads of them but they have not been colored since early 2019 because I have yet to invest in a good set of coloring pencils.

Are you planning on watching the Olympics? No, it never appealed to me.

Do you pronounce the word “often” with or without a “t” in the middle? I never pronounce it with the t sound.

Have you ever been on a trapeze? Nope.

Do you enjoy popping bubble wrap? I was more obsessed with it as a kid and will hoard the bubble wrap I see at home. These days I’d still pop a good size of it, but it’s not like my life anymore.

Are there any waterfalls near where you live? There’s one in the city, but I wouldn’t say it’s near. I have to drive to the upper part of the city to get to the waterfalls which would probably take me around a half hour to do.

Do you like seafood? Oh for sure. My life pretty much runs on seafood.

Have you ever had to wear a uniform for anything? I wore a school uniform from kindergarten all the way through to high school.

If so, what did it look like? The blouse was white while the necktie and the skirt were plaid, mostly in red. We also had to wear black leather shoes with white socks.

Do you personally know anyone who is an author? My great-uncle wrote the said library book I checked out. I also had a number of professors who are established authors.

Do you own a Polaroid camera? Nah but I’ve always wanted one. Maybe now’s my chance to finally get my own.

Do you enjoy baking? It looks fun and is definitely something I’d want to try my hand on.

What’s your favorite type of flower? Peonies. < Agreed.

Last time (if ever) you were on an airplane, where were you going? I was headed back to Manila and unbeknownst to us at the time, that arrival would be known for the biggest family argument we have had thus far. I don’t want to go back to that place in my head again, so let’s just move on.

Do you know anyone who is left-handed? Mhm, like Aya.

What is something you think is underrated? Macarons do not get enough love for sure. It’s god-tier dessert.

Around what temperature do you consider it to be too hot outside? As soon as it hits 30ºC, I’m complaining.

In what ways do you expect your life to be different one year from now? Thanks to Gabie and the irreparable mess she has since caused, I’m too scared to think of the future now. I never want to predict or hope for things anymore, and I’d rather wing shit from now on and not expect certain things to happen.

How often do you travel outside of the state/province you live in? I live right on the border of two regions so I literally went out of my home city/region every day whenever I had to report to school. I will be doing the same once where allowed to report in the workplace.

What’s a hobby you used to have, but don’t anymore? Reading.

What has been your favorite job you’ve had so far? I’ve only had one but it’s been a blast so far and I don’t plan on shifting paths because this is where I’ve always planned to be in. That said, I love my job in PR and working with different clients.

What’s your favorite kind of salsa/dip to go with tortilla chips? Sour cream!

Do you wash your car by hand or drive through a car wash? My parents take turns washing it by hand.

Where is the farthest north you’ve traveled to? Jeju, South Korea.

Farthest south? Bali, Indonesia.

East? Idk...Fukuoka in Japan or some province in the Philippines? I’m not too sure which is east-er, lmao.

West? Malaysia. Would’ve been Thailand if we actually got to go there this year -__- but whatever.

How often do you run the dishwasher? We don’t have one.

Do you wash your face at the sink or in the shower? Eh, either is fine but I do it at the sink a little more often.

Name a stereotype about your gender that you don’t fit. I cannot for the life of me relate to makeup or skincare routines. I also never understood the appeal of Instagram and posing for photos in public and painstakingly editing them for likes.

Name a stereotype about your age that you don’t fit. ^ I think those still fit here, since people my age are into both.

Do you have any unusual decorations in your home? We have masquerade masks on our living room table and I don’t understand why my mom, queen of throwing things out, is not throwing them out. It’s such a random...addition and they don’t go with the vibe of the house at all. But they’ve been hanging out there for so long that my family doesn’t even notice anymore, and much less do they say anything about them.

Do you have any uncommon kitchen appliances, such as espresso machines, waffle irons, etc? We have a coffee maker, which is a bit of a unnecessary/luxury purchase where I live; I dunno if it’s the same for other countries. My dad’s a chef so he knows all the tips and hacks to be resourceful in the kitchen, and so he’s never felt the need to buy any other fancy shmancy kitchen stuff like air fryers or waffle irons or sandwich presses.

What did your parents major/minor in in college, if they went? They both took up hotel and restaurant management, just in different universities.

Has either of their careers influenced what career you chose or want to pursue? HAHAHAHA, not at all. People are often surprised when I tell them about what my parents do for living which is understandable, given that journalism and PR are such far cries from the hospitality industry as a whole.

What is the highest level math class you’ve completed? Trig and calc.

How old were you when you learned how to ride a bike? ...I’m still learning...

How old were you when you learned how to swim? Around 4 or 5. My parents liked taking us to this water park every weekend when my siblings and I were a lot younger, so I learned how to handle myself in the water from all those trips.

How do you react when someone is rude to you? If it’s someone I know and am close with, I just tell them directly that they’re having a bit of an attitude with me. If it’s anyone else, my reaction depends on my mood: if I’m feeling nice I just simply counter the rudeness with kindness, but sometimes I’ll be just as big of a bitch, just subtle.

Have you ever had a friend who was too clingy? Yes, back in middle school. I feel bad now, because I kind of just ditched her, but at the time I felt like it was my only option. < I remember being like this with someone Gab and I tried to be friends with back in Grade 7. Sofie was also a little clingy, but in a way that I never minded it because I actually enjoyed her company.

What kind of natural disaster is most common where you live? Typhoons, definitely.

Why is your least favorite season your least favorite? The dry season, because I hate the sun.

Do you have a Netflix account? We have a family bundle and I have my own account on that. But yeah, I don’t pay for it.

Have you ever had an animal get into your attic? We don’t have an attic but there was one time a stray cat got into the house and it took forever to get it back out, lol. It was feisty so we couldn’t just pick it up. The cat also ended up scratching some of our curtains.

Where is your favorite place to go on vacation? Anywhere new, man. My only traveling rule is to not repeat destinations, at least not within 5-7 years. I’m open to exploring any town or city or country I’ve never been to.

How long does it take to get there? -

When was the last time you started a “new chapter” of your life? It was a new chapter last August when I graduated college, but I had to very hurriedly turn the page into a new chapter when I got my internship - that would eventually lead to my first job - and went through a breakup last September.

What room in your home do you spend the least amount of time in? I rarely go inside my sister’s room, just because there’s never really any reason to be there unless I’m borrowing something from her.

What is the last random act of kindness you did? Gave a small tip to the nice man who helped me get out of my parking spot when I went to the bank yesterday. Loiterers are common in public areas and they’ll usually help out people exiting from their parking, so I usually give whatever I can to help them get by.

Do you do anything to reduce the amount of electricity you use? My bedroom light is never turned on, but I don’t really do it specifically to reduce my electricity usage. I just don’t like my personal space to be too bright, and it’s just a nice bonus to be able to save on electricity while doing so.

Are you usually open to trying a new food that you aren’t familiar with? Typically, yes, although I do have certain foods that I have no interest in trying. < Yep. I’m open to absolutely anything but if a meal has something I already don’t like, like fruits or raisins, then I shy away from those.

Do you listen to Panic! At The Disco? Not as often as I used to, but I definitely still have soft spots for A Fever, Pretty. Odd., and Vices & Virtues. As for the newer music, I don’t tune in to the albums themselves and listen to the entire tracklists but I wouldn’t skip a P!ATD single if it came on the radio.

Have you ever had a kinky dream about a celebrity? I probably have but they’ve all been forgettable.

Is there a song you can’t stop listening to atm? Not really. I’ll listen to Hayley here and there, but that’s it.

Has anyone ever told you that they loved you, and you couldn’t say it back? Yes. This has been the case with my mom for around 6-7 years now. I guess there was just one point in our relationship where she got too mad, I got too traumatized, and it has since kept me from saying it back.

If your Facebook status doesn’t get any likes/comments, does it bother you? Yeah, especially if I shared something deeply personal and important to me, like a life achievement. Of all social media, people are always most likely to react on Facebook (relatives in particular would like or heart anything I post lmao) so a post that would go completely ignored would be confusing but would also sting.

Which friend do you confide in most? Used to be Gabie but now it’s either Anj or Andi.

Do you wear a cross? No.

What is your opinion on Arby’s? THIS IS SUCH A LONG SURVEY, AAAHHHHHHHH. Anyway, never had it. I have heard Arby’s is one of the rather mid-tier restaurants in the US, like it’s not trash but it’s no In-N-Out...I’d still love to try it though. Aren’t they known for like roast beef sandwiches or something? Those sound delightful.

When you have your own kitchen, how will it be done? I just want it to be idiot-proof because I can get pretty dumb in the kitchen.

What is your favorite doughnut? Chocolate glazed with sprinkles. Will always be a kid at heart when it comes to donuts.

Do you have a hot tub? If so, where is it located? We don’t have one.

Did you read the Twilight series, or jump on the bandwagon after the movie? I jumped on the bandwagon once the first movie came out, which was still pretty early on in the whole Twilight craze tbh. I started in 2009 when I was able to read all the books and watch New Moon in the cinema, then I proceeded to catch the midnight screenings for all the movies that came after that.

What is your favorite party game? Pinoy Henyo is a big favorite. It’s basically a Filipino version of Heads-Up, just ever so slightly better and more chaotic, which makes it funnier.

Do you or your parents rake your yard? My mom sweeps, not rakes.

Were you pro-Obama? I think ‘pro’ is too strong a stance. I like remaining neutral and cautious when it comes to US presidents especially considering the US’ history of imperialism in and overall relationship with my country but like, I don’t hate Obama. My vote, if I ever was eligible, would still go to him, but of course it’s best to remain wary and critical of his moves.

What is your favorite scent from Bath & Body Works? I don’t really have one. I don’t do much shopping there. < Same.

What was the last illegal thing you did? Probably speeding. My lunch break ends at 1 PM but I was still at the bank by like 12:50 yesterday, so I had to drive like a maniac to get home on time lmao.

Who did you last go to the movies with? Gabie.

What color was the last vehicle you were in? White.

Do you have any family members in the military right now? As far as I know, no.

Is there a ceiling fan in the room you’re in? Nope, no ceiling fans in the house in general.

When was the last time you wished time would move faster? Today. I love my work, but it can get tiring too and I also find myself occasionally wishing the day was over already.

Are there any owls in your room (as decor, of course)? Nopes. But I do remember when owls were a popular hipster design and everyone had like owl necklaces and shit. What a time.

Have you ever heard voices? Like other voices in my head? No.

Do you believe in angels and demons? Nope.

Who is the worst neighbor you have ever had? It wasn’t my neighbors per se but the helpers of my neighbors used to play cheesy 80s and 90s hits obnoxiously loud every morning and it woke me up every time and I didn’t really have a choice but wait for their stupid listening session to end. I’m so glad they since stopped, but it was my own little piece of hell back then.

Did your Barbies go on dates? [continued from last night] I didn’t do much with my Barbies, honestly. I was mostly curious about their production and liked taking off their clothes to see how the toy company dealt with their private areas lmao. I think my sister and I also drew and doodled on a bunch of our dolls.

If you’re not straight, who was the first person you came out to? I didn’t really do any coming out. One day I just acknowledged my attraction towards Gabie with myself, and when I started dating her I just let everyone figure it out for themselves. I’ve never felt like I had an orientation anyway, so I never felt the need to come out.

Where did you meet your first crush? School, back in kindergarten. But we didn’t formally meet until the end of grade school.

Do you remember the first time your first crush ever said hi to you? Not at all. I remember the people who introduced us, but not our first meeting itself.

Do you ever go places with wet hair? On some days back in college, when there was no traffic going to school I would end up arriving with my hair still kind of wet. This is also the case with Sunday mass (when we could still attend), since we usually headed out as soon as we had taken a shower.

Who is your favorite little girl? I’m a sucker for my friends’ little sisters, like Gabie’s and Athenna’s. I also never got to have a lot of female cousins, so I cherish the few ones I have - Maggie, Bree, and Sam - who are all considerably younger than me.

What do you want the most in life? Contentment. Wherever place I ultimately end up in, I hope to find satisfaction and contentment in it.

What is a decision you’ve made that changed your entire life? Choosing to say ‘fuck it, what do I have to lose’ and send a letter of interest for my present company, who didn’t even have any job openings at the time I sent it out. If I shied away from the lack of openings and never sent out that letter, I never would have been offered an internship, and without taking that internship I never would have been offered a job after a couple of months. So I have to say that’s a pretty fucking solid move of mine.

Do you ever wonder what kind of person you’d have turned out to be if a certain event never happened to you? Sigh. I avoid this exact thought all the time because of how sad it’s able to make me.

When you’re home alone, do you still shower with the bathroom door closed? Yup, it’s just habit.

If you could have anyone’s singing voice, whose would you choose? I’d pick Billie Eilish’s insane ability to hold very soft/quiet notes (ugh, she’s grown on me), Hayley Williams’ range, and Beyoncé’s stamina.

What are your top 3 favorite genres of music? Synth pop, indie rock, R&B.

Where did you buy your dishes from? My mom bought our newest set from...probably a department store. Idk, I wasn’t there with her when she got it a few weeks ago.

Do you think Mars will be colonized in your lifetime? There’ll be advancements in this lifetime for sure, but we’ve got a long way to go before colonization is even remotely feasible.

What’s the most expensive thing you’ve bought that turned out to be a waste of money? Maybe all the shit I bought Gabie throughout the six years, most of them I had to skip meals for? Lmao just kidding, I’m not that kind of ex. I got her a lot of useful stuff, like a Hydroflask, and I mean I don’t completely regret buying them. As long as she still uses them and as long as those things still help in making life easier for her, then the purchases are still worth it.

What’s something you’ve bought that turned out to be way more useful than you anticipated? My cross stitch kit that I thought I was never going to learn. I am now realizing how fun it is and will probably buy a shit ton of kits for myself once Christmas season is over.

Have you ever been on a ship? Yes. My dad gave me a cruise trip for my 18th birthday, and it ended up being really fun :)

Do you ever take intentional breaks from checking/posting on social media? Yeah, I go on detoxes 1-2 times a year where I deactivate all my accounts and am only reachable through text. It usually happens every Christmas season, but sometimes I’ll go through a particularly low point where I’d feel the need to go on a social media break.

Who was Van Halen’s better singer - David Lee Roth, or Sammy Hagar? I don’t listen to Van Halen.

Which fictional character has the most memorable quotes? Any character from BoJack Horseman. What’s a class you did not take in school, but now wish you had? I wasn’t required to take foreign language electives in college like other courses, so I really wish I got to take them :( I can’t imagine how fun it would’ve been to go to class for the sole purpose of learning Spanish or Korean or Italian. Also, even though I took like 5-6 history electives, I still wish I had the chance to take all the other history offerings.

Have you ever been to either of your parents’ workplaces? I have been in the general vicinity of both – my mom works in a hotel and we’ve booked rooms there several times, while my cruise took place in the liner my dad works in. But I’ve only ever been to my dad’s workplace, when he took some time out of his day to show me his kitchen and let me have some of the escargot before they went out to guests :)

What do you think of the ‘Healthy At Every Size’ movement/philosophy? I quickly looked it up and I don’t disagree with its thesis.

Have you ever been bitten so hard that their teeth marks were there after? I used to be like this with Gab, but with me...hmm, my mom liked biting us as kids, and sometimes she’d go pretty hard, yeah. It was never out of anger, of course.

Ever been given a hickey? (Love bite) Yes.

Ever gave one? Anddddd yes.

Are you more of an outgoing type or shy type? Shy if a situation is overall unfamiliar, but I can be outgoing once I start to warm up.

Do you think it’s weird if guys wear make-up like eyeliner? Nope.

Are you self conscious? If so what are you self conscious about? Having been unceremoniously dumped, I’m self-conscious about a million things rn. It’ll take a while for things to be back on track again, self-esteem-wise.

Are you flirty at all? No.

Are you racist at all? I don’t particularly like the Chinese because of the way they treat Filipinos and how most of them behave in my country, like that one asshat who was caught shitting in a local tourist spot here. It gets too tiring to keep on forgiving them at some point.

Would you ever date a disabled person? (Be honest) I don’t see a reason why I wouldn’t.

If you found a baby randomly by itself what would you do? If they were distressed, I’d take them to the nearest security guard and ask for help in looking for their parents. I honestly have no clue how I’d deal with a kid who was otherwise bubbly and doing okay by themselves because I might just look like a kidnapper if I went near them lol.

Would you rather adopt or have your own child? Have my own.

What would you class as cheating on someone? If you’re doing something that requires you to be too close with another person to the point that you have to acknowledge that your partner is not aware of what you’re up to/they don’t have to know what you’re up to. Once that acknowledgment is out of the bag, it’s cheating for me.

Do you try to be politically correct? Yeah.

What’s your favorite kind of sea critter? Dolphins.

Have you ever tasted locally-made honey before? I don’t think so.

As far as earrings go, would you rather wear hoops or studs? Hoops for days.

Do you find P.E. humiliating, or think schools shouldn’t teach it? I think it’s vital to have PE in an education system that requires students to be mostly on their butts. A lot of people hate getting physical and active, and that’s exactly the reason why PE should be around.

Do you recycle? I try to, whenever I can.

Are you interested in current world issues? Yep yep, very.

Do you think you are mature, or immature? I can definitely be petty at times, but I think I mostly act maturely and that those who know me can back me up on it.

What kind of career are you interested in? Public relations, which is under the umbrella of media and communications. I like not being tied to one product, and it’s always awesome to see campaigns that I help with for various big brands come to life.

Do you own a pair of sunglasses? Nah. I was never into them.

Do you use bobby pins, hair clips, or elastic hair ties? Which? I use a hair tie on a daily basis and bobby pins for formal events where I need my hair to be pristinely neat. I nevr use hair clips.

How badly do you get acne? (If at all) Oh god. I got two pimples in between my eyes right now, and it’s the first time I’ve gotten acne since...a year and a half, maybe? My acne isn’t bad at all and it’s never been an issue, so I always panic on the extremely rare occasions I see one or two pop up on my face.

What’s the best way to cope with a breakup? I should be the one asking that! Tips are always welcome, you guys.

If someone dislikes you, what is most likely to be the reason? I probably came off as aloof, which is a fairly common observation.

How many text messages do you have in your inbox at the moment? I don’t delete messages and my phone doesn’t provide me with the total, so suffice it to say there are probably thousands of texts currently in my phone.

When was the last time you had a difficult decision to make? I’m still deciding if I want to keep Gabie around. She honestly doesn’t deserve it, but she’s also my best friend in the world, so idk.

In school, what subjects do/did you find the most difficult? Chemistry, trigonometry, calculus. Physics was hard in high school but became easier in college, and I believe it boils down to the teachers who taught them.

Do you still speak to the person you had your first kiss with? Yes.

Where did you meet the last person you swapped numbers with? I haven’t done that in a while.

Who was the last person to add you as a friend on Facebook? I think it was one of my cousins, Maggie. I don’t remember. But it was probably her.

Who was the last person that asked if you were okay? Maybe Andi? I haven’t had anyone ask me that for a while now.

What does your handwriting look like? I’m the go-to person whenever neat handwriting is needed on a document or something, so I guess that must mean my handwriting is decent. The biggest comment that I get, though, is that my letters are too tiny hahaha.

Do you use any products on your hair, other than shampoo and conditioner? Sometimes I’ll use hair gel for important events because I have the most annoying baby hairs, but otherwise those two are pretty much all I use.

Who were your best friends in primary school? Angela, Pia, Tammy, Marielle, Pam, Gaille, Nina.

Do you still speak to any of them? I only ever actively speak with Angela; she’s still my best friend. Pia and I are mutuals on social media and we’ll sometimes keep the other up to speed with the latest gossip lolol, but I wouldn’t call her my best friend. I lost contact with Tammy, Nina, and Pam after high school, and Gaille when she migrated. I cut Marielle out of my life after she did something shitty that broke my trust.

What was the last thing you bought from a vending machine? A bottle of water, I think.

What color hair did your first crush have? Black.

What type of shoes do you find the most comfortable? Sneakersssssss.

Are you more masculine or feminine? More feminine, definitely.

If you could design your own mug, what would you put on it? I don’t know how to...design things on my own lol, but I��d love a Friends-themed mug, or maybe even a GMM-themed one :)

What is the best beach you’ve been to? Palawan felt almost unreal with how breathtaking it was. I really felt at peace there.

What is one thing you physically can’t do? Lift a water container.

Have you ever been to a funeral? Not a funeral, but I’ve been to several wakes.

Have you ever visited your state’s capitol building? I don’t think we have those.

Have you ever visited your nation’s capitol building? Again, we don’t have those.

Do/did you have a favorite seat in church? My mom, in what really shouldn’t come as a shock, has always liked for us to be in the front row. I’m SO glad we don’t have to physically attend mass anymore; I always felt like I was being burned alive whenever I entered a church lol

What is your favorite park? I wish I had an answer for this but we don’t have any public parks because Philippines.

Have you ever felt an earthquake? Yeah, it happens prrrrretty often, at least once every few months. There was one just last week.

Do you chew gum regularly? Nah but this did made me think of JM, who always had a pack of gum with him without fail everyday.

Where did you go on your first train ride? It was headed to Manila, but my destination was Pasay.

Do you know anyone with a dual citizenship? It’s possible. I went to high school with people who were half-German and half-Swiss, and I’m guessing they held dual citizenships.

What sports teams do you root for, if any? (Extra points for Boston fans.) I don’t really root for any other than my college’s team.

Do you dunk your cookies in milk? If there’s milk around, sure.

What is something you are confident about? I don’t know. I haven’t felt that at all lately.

Have you ever been physically addicted to a substance? What? Nope.

How do you feel about needles? Can’t do shots, blood tests, and IV without freaking out and/or feeling faint. But I can handle sewing needles apparently, judging from how I was able to do cross-stitching last week. As for tattoos, still unsure if I can handle getting one even though I already have a couple of designs in mind.

What is your favorite accent to listen to? That British accent that sounds super posh lol, the one Florence Pugh and Hugh Grant have. Idk what it’s called.

What was the reason you last got dressed up? Job interview.

Have you ever been the subject of cruel rumors? I was the subject of a rumor once, but I didn’t and don’t find it cruel. It was a typical middle school rumor.

^ What were they? That I was dating my friend Andi and was bisexual. The one with Andi I can kind of understand, since I did have a bit of a crush on her then; I just didn’t know I was bad at hiding it. But for people to go as far as telling others I was bisexual was a little surprising.

Do you prefer loose or form-fitting clothing? Form-fitting. I never liked loose clothing on me.

^ What about on your preferred gender? I don’t have a preferred gender, and I think it really depends per person.

What do you do when you are really, really mad? I isolate myself so that I don’t have to explode on anyone.

Would you rather go naked than wear fur? Is it real fur? I’d go naked.

Do you put a line through your 7’s? Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t.

^ What about your Z’s? ^ Same answer. I like keeping things different, hahaha.

What is one thing that someone could do to you that is unforgivable? Break my self-esteem. Constructive criticism is fine, of course, but it’ll be very hard to forgive people who make it their lives to point out my flaws or carelessly hurl hurtful words/insults at me, aka my mom. I’ve never forgiven her about it and it’s the main reason why I’ve since been unable to say “I love you” back whenever she says it.

Are you able to forgive and forget? No. That’s not my preferred route; I’ve always been the grudge-y kind of person.

Do you like cold pizza? Yesssssss. I don’t have a preference between hot or cold, but I have never complained about cold pizza for sure. I ate a slice of pizza right out of the fridge just yesterday.

What is your favorite fruit? Eh.

What about your favorite fruit juice, if it differs from solid fruit? I don’t really have one. I guess orange, as long as it’s not too sour - so basically not pure orange juice lol.

Do you like broccoli and cheese? Haven’t tried it but the pairing sounds *chef’s kiss*

What about potatoes and cheese? Yum.

Have you written a letter by hand, lately? To whom? Not lately, but I plan to.

Toaster or toaster oven? Toaster oven, since we’ve actually had that. We’ve never needed a toaster.

What are you most known for? It depends on who you’re talking to, I’d say. I think different people know me by different things.

Do you have any reputations? What are they? I’m never comfortable claiming things like this, because there’s always the possibility that who I think I am to other people might be far from the truth. Overall, I just try to be myself and still remain nice to everyone while doing so so that I don’t develop a strong reputation for anything.

Do you wear band shirts? Not really.

^ What band was on the last one you wore? I don’t wear them.

Do you own any hats? Describe them. I have a white sunhat that I never got to wear because I’ve always found it too big and flashy and I never wanna draw attention to myself when outside, which it definitely would’ve done for me.

What about masks, you got any? Describe those. I just wear the basic blue surgical face masks.

What was the last thing to leave you speechless? Hearing the amount of money GMM raised for their livestream earlier today, and basically seeing just how insanely successful the livestream in general was.

Do your parents like your friends? If they don’t, why not? My parents never got to know my college friends so they don’t have an opinion on them; they’re still pretty attached to my group in high school hahaha so like Gab, Angela, Athenna, Chelsea, etc, who they all still love and occasionally ask about.

Have you been called a bad influence? Idk, maybe, out of earshot.

Describe your favorite pair of socks. I don’t have any.

Have you experienced any life-changing news, events, etc, lately? First real job and the breakup of a long-term relationship that I had initially finally stopped having doubts about.

Have any self-done piercings? OMG I can finally see the end of this survey holy shit. It took me two damn days, ughhhhhh. Anyway, hell no. I’d injure myself so badly.

Ever pierced someone else? Most definitely not.

Do you get distracted easily? It depends on how much I actually care about whatever it is I’m doing. < Agree. My focus is unpredictable.

Is talking to strangers enjoyable for you, or stressful? Stressful. No matter how pleasant they or the conversation turns out to be, I’m always more stressed than anything else and I let out a sigh of relief as soon as it’s over.

How do you feel about getting new neighbors? It’d be super refreshing, considering the houses on our left and right were literally just built, but never actually inhabited.

How many ceiling fans are in your home? We don’t have any. Do you tweet your life away? Not anymore. I used to tweet my entire life back in high school, but when I realized literally none of my classmates were the same and that I looked so lonely doing it, I made an effort to lessen the tweets and eventually the new habit caught on.

How do you feel about shameless self promoting? I don’t think much of it.

When reading words. like. this. do. you always pause after the periods? Haha, yeah.

What about screaming when reading something IN ALL CAPS? Not always. Soooo many people like typing in all caps anyway, so this has been more normalized to me lately.

#surveys #survey #fucking finally

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transrightsjimin · 4 years

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honestly class consciousness is one hell of a ride bc i didnt think abt it much until more recent years. i told my friend as a kid we were poor nd my mom got so pissed at that, nd i mean shes right that we rly werent as bad off as it could be, the family is just working class. but when you suddenly realize youre not on equal footing w middle class ppl, or ppl like my uncle who is one of the very rare few who started working class and not highly educated nd ended up becoming a millionaire in the US (im still coming for his wallet istg), its suddenly all... oh wait there are ppl whose reality is not this full of hurt and few opportunities.

like, being in a university in one of the most diverse cities in the country nd still having so few poc on it and most poc u meet are international students, and having heard some posh classmates talk abt studying "just like our parents" like it's the most evident thing in the world (while im the only person in the family that did college level, nvm university, and family was super proud, it's not a given to us that you do this!), hearing classmates claim that poverty and class are not really relevant for the netherlands anymore bc you now have the nouveau riche and art is less elitist now, so apparently class is less of a thing?? nd university is just such a wakeup call or a slap in the face bc my primary school was called ghetto, my high school was called ghetto, but then my art college prided itself on being very "diverse" while i had never seen this many white students in one place, and it's even worse for my university.

shit like my brother being in prison all the time when i was younger, my best friend when i was 4 having to move away bc her mom ODed on drugs, living next to a house that had 5 weed plantations in it over the years nd our greek neighbours even got pulled into that mess bc they needed money, living across a 'coffee house' tht stored rifles in it, someone across the street setting his house (and thus half the street bc dutch homes are often connected as one row) on fire, my dad working 50 hours a week as a parcel deliverer bc w less hours he doesnt earn enough, even if the fucking job means carrying 80 kilo boxes up stairs and other bullshit, his stress leading to two TIAs (strokes), my mom being super disabled by many physical impairments nd illness nd still not being granted help in the household bc she had a 'healthy daughter and boyfriend' nd also her being left w/o an income for 2 years, practically every high school friend's mom being disabled in some way, then at my mail delivery job where my coworkers complain abt another deliverer bc it took her 3 months to get back to work again nd they called her ‘lazy‘ for not working immediately despite having multiple illnesses and disabilities bc, and i quote, my colleague said “i’m in my sixties and have arthritis and i’m working too“ dude :// hes literally the person my other colleagues say has had it hard and needs a break, and then those coworkers too need a break nd have disabilities nd are nearing pension age and still doing this work while trying to do household work and all that stuff at the same time. my mom said my cousin’s job (in construction; scaffolder) pays “really good“ (i wonder if its really that much bc it’s apparently around €1700-2700 on average) but that he already gets bad physical complaints from it while hes young nd formerly rly fit and might need to quit soon and then figure something out like studying for something else if possible.

the neighbourhood i used to live in as a baby was ‘too criminal‘ according to my parents so then they moved out to the town next to it into a neighbourhood that was eventually labelled among the top ranked ‘criminal‘ neighbourhoods of the country nd now i live in rotterdam south which is basically seen in the same way bc again, more poverty, more families with migration backgrounds etc. it’s like, you can never escape this negative image unless the whole bunch is gentrified or smth stupid and the poor are pushed to live elsewhere again. and just the whole thing of being at home, being at school, being at work, it’s such a trip bc university is so fucking different to me nd u see all these people there who are quite confident in getting good jobs nd u have business students with rich parents who are already some stupid fucking greenwashing entrepreneur aiming to become a CEO, nd even though ppl at my study w all these artsy ppl, they are generally not upper class, most still seem to be so used to the safety of being middle class and make these huge statements about poverty not really being a thing here.

nd then the whole stress nd anxiety tht my parents passed onto me, partially bc of their trauma nd them being fed up w my ‘laziness’ (executive dysfunction nd burnout lol), partially bc they believe strongly in this workers’ ethic thats strongly in line with capitalism (even if my mom used to be part of a socialist party nd still adheres to many of those ideas) but also with this calvinistic and Rotterdam ( / Rijnmond area) ideology that you need to work hard for the entirety of your life in order to be a decent person, so not so much for an economic payoff or ‘success‘; you just have to work hard. my parents always told me ‘you can rest when you’re dead‘ every single time i mentioned or even implied i was a bit tired and it was frustrating to hear. this mentality is what lead to my dad practically getting two strokes, and to my mom overworking herself nd being taken away by an ambulance on my birthday party, it’s the whole fucking reason i do not like the prospect of work bc it is just so associated w something awful you need to get done and that you need to exhaust yourself on it until you hopefully get pension money, if the govt hopefully doesnt raise the pension age even further than 67. and then you see ppl in uni talk abt fun future “careers” like what the fuck are you talking about? how are you gonna get a job in the arts and culture field in this pandemic? im already happy if im able to find a job and dont have to quit due to disability or a chronic illness that runs in both sides of my family. im sorry im being so negative but im stressed about jobs and i think i went on a tangent today all bc i saw one post abt being scared of PE classes nd my mind went to bad places. this is ok to rb or reply to btw, as long as youre a mutual

#i rly dont mean to whine or anything but its just wild how normalized this shit is #i hate capitalism i rly hate it dude #rambles

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cela-astral-projection · 4 years

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Aric/Aedan Vernersson Character Survey

Basic Character Questions

First name? Aric. Psuedoname is Aedan

Surname? Vernersson

Middle names? Axel

Nicknames? Brother

Date of birth? September 23rd

Age? Early to mid-twenties (died around his 25th birthday), but he's quite responsible for a young man.

Physical / Appearance

Height? 6'3

Weight? 240

Build? Buff but still soft.

Hair color? Pale yellow/white.

Hairstyle? Long, thick and wavy hair that is usually pulled back

Eye color? Silver

Glasses or contact lenses?: He wears glasses when he has to do a lot of writing or reading for eyestrain, but other than that, he has excellent vision.

Distinguishing facial features? He's not big on shaving, so he generally has some form of facial hair.

Which facial feature is most prominent? His jawline.

Which bodily feature is most prominent? His arms or his monster hands.

Other distinguishing features? Bright silver eyes.

Skin? Tawny brown, like his mother's.

Hands? Ginormous meat hooks.

Makeup? Not his thing. Lucio made him put on his eyeliner once. It melted in the sun, and he swore it off because it burned his eyes.

Scars? His hands are a little rough, and he's got a few cuts up his arms, but nothing too pronounced.

Birthmarks? Some darker brown pigmentation on the back of his arms. Pretty faint.

Tattoos? He has some sun paintings (one on each pec) reminiscent of the rock art from his village on his chest in a dark sienna color.

Physical handicaps? Bone spurs on his heels, but that's just an annoyance.

Type of clothes?: It depends on what he's doing. In the palace, he wears grey and charcoal with red and gold accents. When he's just going about his day, he wears lightweight linens in a rainbow of colors.

What are their feet like? (type of shoes, state of shoes, socks, feet, pristine, dirty, worn, etc.) Like I said, the boy has bone spurs on his heels, so they were already giant monster feet, but that just adds to their length. He takes good care of his feet. He likes high-quality boots and shoes. (Unlike his sister who would go barefoot everywhere.)

Race / Ethnicity?: His father is from Lucio and Morga's tribe, and his mother is one of the southern tribes on the frozen sea. (A/N: for all intents and purposes, I write them as Swedes/Post-Spanish Mission Chumash Indians because...that's what Kristen (Celeste) and Erik (Aric) are.)

Are they in good health? Aric was always in generally good health. Until he wasn't...

Do they have any disabilities? None to speak of.

(image of Chumash Rock art for tattoo reference)

Personality

What words or phrases do they overuse? "Yeah, Bud!"

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic? Optimistic

Are they introverted or extroverted? Extroverted

Do they ever put on airs? Nope. You won't find a more chill, friendly guy.

What bad habits do they have? Nail-biting and hair pulling (trichotillomania, but he has to be very, very anxious)

What makes them laugh out loud?: So many things. And at inappropriate times.

How do they display affection? Gifts, acts of service.

How do they want to be seen by others? Reliable, approachable, trustworthy.

Strongest character trait? Seeing the best in others.

Weakest character trait? Blind loyalty.

How competitive are they? Very.

How do they react to praise? He loves hearing praise and being told he's doing a good job. It gives him warm fuzzies.

How do they react to criticism? He is very open to criticism as long as it's constructive.

What is their greatest fear? Not being able to save his loved ones.

What are their biggest secrets? He's an open book. Except for that whole...fake name-Lucio is my cousin thing. (Which he is not terribly good at hiding)

What is their philosophy of life? How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.

What haunts them? His mother's face when he left home.

What will they stand up for? Anyone, anytime.

Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? Outdoorsy.

What is their sinful little habit? He wouldn't consider it immoral, but he does indulge in some of the magician's...herbal remedies.

What sense do they most rely on? Sight.

How do they treat people better than them? As equals

How do they treat people worse than them? As equals

What do they consider an overrated virtue? Temperance.

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be? Probably would do better to realize that some people just can't be reached, but damned if he doesn't try.

What is their obsession? Fishing and his dog.

What are their pet peeves? People that touch his food without permission. Aedan doesn't share food! He will buy your food! NO TOUCH. (Though Celeste will note that he has no compunction about stealing her food.)

Friends and Family

Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of?: Small. Mama, Papa, Sister, and Him. There is, of course, the extended family and his tribe, but the core group was relatively small.

What is their perception of a family? Family is the most important thing.

Do they have siblings? Older or younger?: One sister. Same age.

Describe their best friend. Bit of a ditz. Funny (though it's unclear if he means to be). Dog lover. Drinking buddy.

Ideal best friend? Someone not afraid to throw their stuff in a satchel and get lost for a day. Bonfire under the stars. Loves dogs. Not scared of touching fish.

Do they have any pets? Ebba! Borzoi like M & M but with big brown patches and knows how to mind.

Past and Future

What was your character like as a baby? As a child?: He was a happy, inquisitive baby. He was rough and tumble, always on the go. Occasionally he’d scare himself (falling) but he only needed to be told that he was okay and he’d keep on going.

Did they grow up rich or poor? They had no real need for money unless they were traveling, and then they mostly traded for what they needed.

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected? Nurtured.

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? Left them. Wasn't his idea, though. Still feels terrible.

What are their ambitions? Getting to be free and live his own life.

What smells remind them of their childhood? Woodfire. Briny seawater. Spice.

What was their childhood ambition? Be the head of the rowers that went out to the islands.

What is their best childhood memory? Traveling with dad to the surrounding tribes and making friends with other kids.

Did they have an imaginary childhood friend? No. He had so many friends he didn't have time for imaginary ones.

Love

Do they believe in love at first sight? Maybe? His parents had an arranged marriage, and he thinks that's pretty fine. He likes getting to know people to make sure that what he's feeling is real.

How do they behave in a relationship? He's all about making his partner feel cherished and comfortable. He likes to move slow...ish.

What sort of sex do they have? He's not exactly wild. But, he's open-minded.

Has your character ever been in love? Sure.

Have they ever had their heart broken? Nah. If he parts with people, it's amicable.

Conflict

How do they respond to a threat? Try to reason. If not, try to subdue with as little injury as possible.

Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? Fists, honestly. If it comes to that. Even then, he'd probably just try to wrestle and pin them.

What is your character's kryptonite? The concept of someone he cares about being hurt.

If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? His dog. Not an object, but things aren't that important.

How do they perceive strangers? Never met one.

What are their phobias? Ophidiophobia, so it's probably good that he never really got to know Asra because Faust would have scared him to death.

What is their choice of weapon? If he had to really fight, he'd use a one-handed battle-ax.

What living person do they most despise? Valdemar, but living and person are both kinda uncertain terms.

Have they ever been bullied or teased? No. Even if he was, it wouldn't bother him.

Where do they go when they're angry? For a walk.

Work, Education, and Hobbies

What is their current job? Head guard of the palace.

What do they think about their current job? Get to hang out with his bud most of the time, so that's pretty neat. Could do with less having to enforce his stupid decrees (which he finds ways around if he can.)

What are some of their past jobs? Fisherman and hunter.

What are their hobbies? Fishing, hunting, falconry, reading.

Educational background? No formal education. Dad taught him how to read and write, but he didn't have much use for either of those skills until he came to Vesuvia.

Intelligence level? Himbo-lite.

Do they have any specialist training? Jack of all trades, master of none.

Do they play a sport? Are they any good? Rowing and wrestling.

What is their socioeconomic status? Upper class? Lucio pays well.

Favorites

What is their favorite animal? Ebba.

Which animal to they dislike the most? Snakes.

What place would they most like to visit? He'd like to travel like his dad did before his parents got married, but he's not picky.

What is the most beautiful thing they've ever seen? Poppy fields!

What is their favorite song? No Hurry - Zac Brown Band

Music, art, reading preferred? Reading but music is a close second.

What is their favorite color? Green or blue.

Favorite food: Grilled stuffed portobello mushrooms with bleu cheese.

Possessions

What is in their fridge: Beer, red wine (that hefty stuff that leaves long tendrils when you swirl it. he likes to chew his wine). Meat, cheese, mushrooms, bread, a lot of veggies.

What is on their bedside table? Reading glasses and a book.

What is in their pockets? Money.

What is their most treasured possession? His dog. But calling her a possession feels terrible.

Spirituality

Do they believe in the afterlife? Sure.

What are their religious views? He believes in spiritual guides, and he believes in magic. Though he is sadly more like his father than his mother in that he really can't cast.

Are they superstitious? He's a little 'stitious.

What would they like to be reincarnated as? A peregrine falcon.

How would they like to die? Not the way he did, that's for sure. That sucked.

What is your character's spirit guide? Duckhawk!

What is their zodiac sign? Libra.

Daily life

What are their eating habits? An army marches on their stomach. He always makes sure to have a decent breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Do they have any allergies? Just pollen.

Describe their home. The palace. His room is pretty spartan. Bed, dresser, desk, couple side tables, mirror.

Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? Minimalist.

What do they do first thing on a weekday morning? Try to get to the bath before everyone else does.

What do they do on a Sunday afternoon? Nap or go for a hike out in the woods.

What do they do on a Friday night? Drink with Lou.

What is the soft drink of choice? If such a thing existed, it would be original Coke.

What is their alcoholic drink of choice? He's an appreciator of fine whiskey and wine. But, he won't turn his nose up at a good ale or cider.

Miscellaneous

What is their character archetype? The hunter.

Who is their hero? His dad.

What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween? Thor.

Are they comfortable with technology? Ehhhh. Not really. He can use it but would rather not.

If they could save one person, who would it be? He couldn't pick.

If they could call one person for help, who would it be? Linnea.

What is their favorite proverb? Friendship is love with understanding.

What is their greatest extravagance? Gifts. He buys gifts like the world will end tomorrow.

Do they believe in happy endings? Sure.

What would they ask a fortune-teller? Am I doing the right thing?

@vesuviasfastestcourier Will this help until I can write more Aedan fic? :)

#aric vernersson #aedan #character development #character creation #arcana oc #the arcana #oc #mc

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mautadite · 4 years

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april book round up

20 books this month, which i didn’t see coming. i had more free time than expected, even with working from home and *makes vague hand gestures*. i still have a scribd membership so almost all these books came from there. also i’m putting some thought into reviewing on netgalley, so a couple from there as well.

american fairy tale - adriana herrera ⭐️⭐️⭐️ contemporary m/m romance in herrera’s dreamers series that follows immigrants and children of immigrants. this second book was fun, a kind of fairy tale romance as the title suggests. a rich guy/poor guy situation which isn’t usually my cup of tea, and the domineering, throw-money-at-every-situation personality of the rich guy got on my nerves, and i wasn’t totally sold on the way the conflict was resolved? but i enjoyed it. herrera’s books just have this down to earth vibe that i love.

unfit to print - k.j. charles ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ historical m/m romance. vikram, a young lawyer doing a lot of pro-bono work in the indian community in london, lost touch with his childhood friend gil years and years ago, is pretty sure he’s dead. so imagine his surprise when he comes across him in an unlikely occupation in an unlikely place. this was a charming, touching novella, really interesting historically, with a lot of cool titbits about porn in the 19th century. very sweet romance-wise.

american love story - adriana herrera ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ another dreamers novel, this one about a black professor and political activist and a white ADA who had a fling a while back and are now living in the same town. and same apartment building. lol. it did get into real world politics, which i know some people don’t like, but i honestly thought it well done? there were some great bits in this, good insight, one really harrowing moment, and just really great chemistry and character moments.

wanted, a gentleman - k.j. charles ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ more historical m/m romance from k.j. charles, which i always like, but this one i REALLY liked. which surprised me, because it’s a novella, and with novellas you never spend enough time with characters to really know them and their story and get attached? but that’s exactly what happened here. a well-to-do ex-slave and a poor gazette owner team up to untangle a young love affair. i seriously loved this, the characters are so good together. T__T

far from the world we know - harper bliss ⭐️⭐️ contemporary f/f romance about a young widow with a traumatic past who moves to a tiny new town to take care of her ailing aunt, and slowly falls into a relationship with the owner of the local newspaper. the premise was good, but this honestly felt like every single harper bliss book i’ve ever read, except it had nothing to recommend it. ask me why these characters even like each other. i can’t answer!

the hound of justice - claire o'dell ⭐️⭐️ the second book in a series that re-imagines the sherlock holmes universe, except as near-future scifi set during a civil war, and both holmes and watson are black lesbians. i LOVED the first book (with a few caveats) and i’ve been looking forward to this one for so long... but it was disappointing. in terms of the writing, in terms of the direction the characters took, in terms of the plot... i have to wonder if i read the first one with rose-tinted glasses. :/ won’t be continuing this series.

the vintner's luck - elizabeth knox ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ *CLUTCHES MY CHEST WITH BOTH HANDS* in my goodreads review i said i didn’t know how to talk about this novel, and i still don’t. but i ADORED IT. so completely. in early 19th century france, the young son of a winegrower climbs a hill on his father’s property, and there, meets an angel. this is the story of them falling in love, but also about family and friendship, love and death. it’s written SO beautifully, and i’ll be thinking about it for a long time.

the family fang - kevin wilson ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ OOOF. i went into this knowing that several friends loved it so i knew i probably was gonna too and i DID. it’s about two siblings whose parents have been obsessed (since before the birth of their children, and until the present day where they’re both grown) with the idea of creating perfect art, and how the kids survive that. i actually didn’t enjoy reading many parts of this, but only because it was so well written, if that makes sense? like, it took me right in there with some of the shitty emotions and just made me feel. OOOF.

mrs. martin's incomparable adventure - courtney milan ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ a VERY sweet and charming historical f/f romance between a wealthy 74-yo widow and the cute young 69 (nice) yo landlady who comes to ask for her help. and then they have an adventure! i read it at a great time, because i was beginning to feel really bummed out about how people are trivialising and discounting the lives of older people in this crisis, and there was a really great message of like... life not being over until you SAY it’s over, living like you have 20 more years left. i loved it a lot.

his convenient husband - robin covington ⭐️⭐️ m/m contemporary fake marriage story, about a russian ballet dancer and the widowed american football player he marries to get citizenship. and then they fall in love for realsies. i love fake marriage as a trope, it can be so cute but this was very meh. if a book is gonna handle racism/homophobia in such a shallow way... i’d honestly prefer if the book just pretended those things don’t exist lol. :/ it’s also very very rushed and not well plotted at all. alas.

once ghosted, twice shy - alyssa cole ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ alyssa cole is like my good luck charm, because starting here, i read a bunch of lesbian romance novels that i really liked. this one is part of a series about reluctant royals, and follows the dapper assistant to a prince as she falls for a girl who seemingly ghosts her, and then meets her again months later. it’s a novella, and sort of relies on the fact that you would have met one of the characters in a previous book (which i did read). but i really really liked it, thought it was super cute, and the mcs had great chemistry. it was almost insta-love, which i really don’t like... but i still like this book so much. also best cover?? BEST COVER.

who'd have thought - g. benson ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ now THIS is fake marriage done right!!! f/f contemporary romance about a struggling nurse who comes across an ad offering a chunk of money in exchange for one year of marriage... and the person on the offering end turns out to be the cold, stuck-up but brilliant doctor at the hospital where she works. this was the perfect slow burn, with great character writing, really good set-up, very believable arc as they slowly fall in love. it got me so emotional at times. definitely gonna make sure i read more from this author.

three reasons to say yes - jaime clevenger ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ f/f contemporary about two women who strike up a romance while on vacation in hawaii; one an overworked professional, one a doctor-mom of twin girls. another winner for me. just an extremely cute, very genuine butch/femme romance. it’s funny because i definitely nitpicked on a lot of things in this book, but i only remember the parts of if that made me so fond.

we set the dark on fire - tehlor kay meija ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ f/f YA fantasy in a world deeply divided by class. in the upper echelons of society, girls are trained either to become one of the two wives of upper class men; the primera and the segunda. the story follows a girl who has faked her social class becoming the primera of a very powerful man, getting involved with revolutionaries, and developing a surprising relationship with her husband’s segunda. really interesting world-building, some lovely writing, a really heart-felt core. i had my nitpicks with the plot but i still super enjoyed it, really want to read the second part.

a tale of two mommies - vanita oelschlager ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ netgalley book. a cute children’s story about a kid with two moms. <3

crier's war - nina varela ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ more f/f fantasy YA, this one with the added benefit of being about something that i ADORE reading about in fiction: artificial life. in this fantasy world, automae were created, perfected, became aware of their place in society, fought a war for their autonomy... and won. the story opens up 50 years later, in a society ruled by robots, where humans are subjugated. it follows the current robot ruler’s created daughter and a young human rebel whose one goal is to kill said daughter. i loved this SO much, the enemies to lovers trope was peeeerfect. i wish the writing was tighter, and some plot elements could have used cleaning up, but i enjoyed this so much. the ROMANCE especially was... gah! <3 the second book comes out soon, but i want it like, now.

second dad summer - benjamin klas ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ another netgalley book. a fun and charming primary/middle school story about a kid spending the summer with his father, and his father’s new boyfriend, who he doesn’t quite get along with. over the summer he makes new friends, nurtures some plants, learns some lessons. i thought this was well-written, touching, and does a pretty good job of telling kids about queer stuff.

tempting fate - sloane kennedy ⭐️⭐️ contemporary m/m novella (short story honestly) about two ranch hands realising their feelings for one another. it was fine, i read it because i was in the mood for a quick HEA and i got that, but it was also kinda flat and there were several kinda irksome things about it. i reeeeeally don’t like overly possessive characters, lol.

all the reasons i need - jaime clevenger ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ more contemporary f/f romance, this one about long time friends who have been in love for ages, slowly coming to a place where they can finally admit their feelings and try to embark upon a relationship. again, while on vacation! this was a lot more sombre than the previous clevenger book, as it deals with past abuse and eating disorders. but i also found the writing to be better in general, and the relationship between the two women was just... so great. the writing definitely isn’t pulitzer prize-winning or anything, but there are so few good butch/femme books out there, i ate this up, and will def. be reading more from this author.

interpreter of maladies - jhumpa lahiri ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ speaking of pulitzer prize-winning authors... i’ve had this author and this book specifically at the back of my mind since secondary school; one of my literature teachers really loved it and would bring it up all the time. i really enjoyed it! it’s a collection of stories about the indian diaspora in america, as well as life on the subcontinent. i really like her writing (very simple, very precise, but very evocative) and there were a few really striking stories.

and that’s it for april. look at me, actually writing this entry on time, lol. for may i’m just gonna... keep reading whatever catches my eye on scribd i guess. i remember vaguely saying that by this time of the year i would have moved on to reading the books on my physical bookshelf that i haven’t gotten to yet but... i go where the wind takes me etc. currently reading silver moon, about women who turn into werewolves once they hit menopause? absolutely metal.

#book talk #long post

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graduationemmasep · 4 years

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'I like the way MDMA gives you a deep sense of connection to your friends'

I'm no fiend. Most nights I'd rather share a bottle of wine with some friends than stay up till 6am getting sweaty and boggle-eyed on a bender. But while I associate alcohol with talking about past experiences, I associate drugs with making new ones. Party drugs can often make a stranger feel like a confidant; a simple trip to a town centre feel like an Enid Blyton escapade.

I probably take class-A party drugs such as MDMA or cocaine once a fortnight, and have done since I was 16 (I'm 27 now). I like the way cocaine gives you a new lease of life, like a mushroom in Super Mario, to carry on with a night out. I like the way MDMA softens the edges of reality and gives you a deep sense of connection to your friends that you can never get when you meet them for dinner and they moan about their jobs. I like how when you're coming down from a pill another person's touch has a comforting, almost electric capacity. If you're suffering from exhaustion, anxiety or stress, recreational drugs can give you a bit of a leg-up.

Drugs can also be a total pain. Ecstasy can make you feel like you're floating in a cloud, but just as often it's an admin nightmare: you come up at different times from your friends; only half the people in a group remembered to get sorted and there's endless hassle at a party trying to get more. Even when you're having a great time, there's a self-doubting internal monologue running through the whole process: Have I done enough? Am I coming up? Do I look like a prick?

I would just like to have that conversation about drugs being sometimes brilliant and occasionally annoying. Yet I feel like there is no one who is willing to talk about drugs in those terms.

When children ask their parents where babies come from, they get a white lie – a stork delivers them, you find them in a cabbage patch, you order them from Ocado. That's the closest thing I can think of to explain the difference between the perception and the reality of drug use by young people in the UK. There is a societal stork myth that is propagated by the media and popular culture to hide a basic reality. Even users themselves are entirely unwilling to talk about drug-taking honestly. Everything in the drugs world tries to stifle this conversation. Take nightclubs. It doesn't take a genius to work out that staying up till 6am listening to dance music at an ear-splitting volume would not only be unenjoyable without some kind of mind-altering stimulant, but a painful test of endurance. Most people in big nightclubs are on drugs. The clubs know that: that's why they charge so much for entry and, often, for bottles of water. They know that not many people will be buying drinks. Most of them have in-house dealers too, so they can sort out their DJs. Bigger DJs put requests for drugs on their rider. "We just put it on expenses as 'fruit and flowers'," a promoter at a major nightclub told me this year. But there's still a stork charade, with the venue covered in posters promising to eject drug users and bouncers searching punters – but not too thoroughly. The pretence is that this could all be above board.

I suppose the reason for this false picture of drug-taking is that most people don't take drugs. The statistics show that only a small fraction of the UK population are regular drugs users, and a smaller fraction still do anything harder than weed. But drug use is not spread evenly across the country, nor across age groups. In my demographic – under 30, living in London, job in the creative industries, disposable income – almost everyone is a recreational drugs user.

Where I grew up in south London, it was pretty uncommon to find someone who didn't at least smoke weed. The children of more middle-class parents were taking cocaine, ecstasy, ketamine and mephedrone almost every weekend. These were not reprobates ruining their lives: they were intelligent, bright people who got three As at A-level and went to good universities.

We would go to raves in places such as Camberwell and Hackney Wick, to warehouse venues where almost no one was over 18. White powders flowed as freely as the Fanta Fruit Twist and Malibu we were drinking. Festivals played a big part, too. Parents, even quite strict ones who wouldn't dream of letting their kids out past midnight, were happy to send their kids to music festivals, perhaps because of the reverent music-focused coverage in the media.

If you go to somewhere like Reading or Benicàssim, almost everyone is under 20. Half of them barely leave the campsite. Festivals are drugs playgrounds where teenagers experiment with copious amounts of uppers in presumably quite dangerous combinations. Some of the best moments of my life took place going to festivals as a teenager. I remember one muddy year at Glastonbury, racing down the hill arm-in-arm with a bunch of people, all off our faces on MDMA, feeling happier than I had ever felt. Another year, I remember taking mephedrone with a girl I fancied during Blur's headline set, both weeping with joy at a band we'd grown up with our whole lives.

Again, everyone knows this; no one thinks the thousands who watch the sunrise at the stone circle in Glastonbury every year are just on a high from seeing Mumford and Sons. But the festivals keep up the pretence that they are drug-free zones. Even a recent BBC3 show, Festivals, Sex and Suspicious Parents, which was supposed to show parents what their kids really got up to at festivals, ignored the fact that as the cameras panned around the festival, many revellers were plainly as high as a kite, their jaws swinging back and forth like pendulums, a side-effect of taking ecstasy. The voiceover just kept talking about people being "drunk".

I am also part of the first generation of people whose parents are likely to have been drug users. Of course, some adults would be outraged, like the parents on BBC3, to see what their kids got up to. But many more knew only too well – plenty of people I know would smoke weed or share dealers with their parents. In some families drug use had less stigma than smoking.

I thought all this was normal, but at university I met, for the first time, young people who totally abstained from drugs. They mostly came from outside major cities, or outside the UK, and many shivered in horror when they saw the rest of us dabbing our gums with mysterious white powders. I thought there would be a rift in social lives, an us-and-them situation, but it was around that time that mephedrone happened. Known by literally no young person ever as "meow meow", mephedrone was a legal high that changed attitudes towards drug-taking. Polite do-right kids who would never dream of taking illegal drugs were happy to chow down on bombs (self-made wontons of mephedrone powder wrapped in Rizla) like they were no more risqué than chocolate liqueurs.

Mephedrone was incredibly cheap – about a tenner a gram – and incredibly available. You could order it with next-day delivery to your university PO box. Mephedrone was a drugs phenomenon of which I have never seen the likes before or since. Everyone started doing it. I remember visiting a friend at Leeds University during this period. We went to a club and the queue for the men's bogs was at least 70 people long. When I finally got inside the place stunk of mephedrone, you could hear everyone loudly sniffing.

On nights out during this time, everyone would be raging – making out with one another, dancing with total abandon. But the comedowns were immediate and severe, far worse than ecstasy. By 4am people would be lying on the floor sharing the most intimate and personal shames and secrets, as if the drug was somehow compelling them to be honest. Some people called it a truth serum. Friendships were forged in the hot irons of that emotional exposition, as were the most horrendous hangovers.

Mephedrone was banned within two years of it taking off. People talk a lot about one legal high being banned only for another to take its place, but the real legacy of mephedrone was to numb the stigma of harder drugs. By the time I left university, many of the drug abstainers who had tried mephedrone became relaxed about most illegal drugs, too.

Ecstasy and mephedrone make it pretty hard to get much done in the days after taking them. You can't regularly use them and be a successful, functioning adult, so they become a rarer treat once you leave student life. In their 20s most people are overworked: they have second jobs and work incredibly long hours. If they're going to go out on a Friday night they need a pick-me-up. And that is why cocaine remains the young professional's drug of choice.

I see cocaine usage almost every weekend wherever I go: clubs, pubs, people's houses, dinner parties. At fancy celebrity parties, the sort you see on Mail Online, cocaine is so prevalent that it's almost boring. Everyone does it – butter-wouldn't-melt TV presenters, wholesome pop stars adored by your mum, people who would immediately lose their job if anyone found out. Those tabloid stings where they catch someone doing cocaine are kind of hilarious in that respect. If you followed any celebrity around with a secret camera on a Friday night you'd be almost guaranteed to find them doing coke. But cocaine users are like hipsters in the way they will vehemently deny they are one, and cast aspersions on others. "It was just full of self-aggrandising wankers doing coke and talking about themselves," someone will say about a party where they did cocaine and talked about themselves. Most of my friends are cocaine users, but I've never heard them say one nice thing about cocaine.

No doubt some people will have read this piece and think that I am just a monstrous twat, that this has all been little more than infantile boasting in a vain attempt to try to sound cool. But that, too, is part of the cover-up, that any open discussion of using drugs or enjoying them is necessarily a boast. We can talk about great food, great films, great sex, but if we talk about great drugs we immediately sound like we're engaging in some teenage bravado. That's why the biggest taboo surrounding drugs today isn't taking drugs, but saying that they're fun.

I'm not saying that people are lying about the negative effects. I have, of course, seen lives ruined by drugs. Rarely has this been because of an overdose or because someone has ruined themselves financially because of addiction (although I am only 27 – that may yet come). Far more often I have just seen people become dulled through regular drug use: their youthful spark extinguished by a never-ceasing quest to get on it; brains frazzled by overheated synapses. There are friends I want to slap every time I see them doing another line, but I can't because that would be hypocritical.

I also appreciate that's it's easy to be blasé about drug use when you're a well-adjusted middle-class white guy who has never been stopped by the police and has a distant non-social relationship with their drug dealer. For many people, drugs aren't something they can dip in and out of and separate from their lives. People entangled in the economic and legal realities of drugs – dealers, those convicted of possession, addicts – don't have the luxury of my relaxed attitude.

But until we stop pretending that getting high is inherently bad – that drugs can never be brilliant, can never enhance human experience for the better – how can we properly deal with people whose lives have been made worse by drugs? At some point, kids grow up and learn the facts of life. I think it's time we all had the talk.

#research

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fanfictionandmore · 5 years

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808 Broadway | Laszlo Kreizler Fanfiction

Description:

Aurora is in need of work, and sees a housekeeper advert in the Times Newspaper. When she goes for the interview she wasn't expecting to meet Dr. Laszlo Kreizler; a man who is both respected and ridiculed in the field of psychology. However, she manages to attain the job and makes a good impression on the doctor as well as his colleagues. But her employment at the house leaves her privy to what the others are involved in, and she becomes intrigued by their work. Will Dr. Kreizler let her get involved or will he shut her out?

Chapter One ~ Interview

Aurora's POV:

Nervousness filled my insides as my cab started slowing down. That meant that I had reached my destination; I wasn't completely prepared for what I was about to step into in all honesty. "283 East Seventeen Street, Miss." My cab driver said as soon as the carriage had reached a stand still. "Thanks." I replied as I got out and handed the man what I owed him for the ride. He took off down the street, leaving me on the sidewalk.

The bright August sun was blaring down on me from the clear blue sky as I took in my surroundings. It was far from the neighborhood I'm currently living in, that's fore sure. Three days ago I sent a letter inquiring about the housekeeper position at this very house. Luckily the job was still up for grabs, especially since I was looking for work and the pay was generous. I took a deep breath and let it out before walking up the steps of 283, hoping that this interview would go well.

Once I reached the door I rang the doorbell, which I was able to hear on the doorstep. A few moments passed before I heard any movement within. When the door opened I was greeted by a very tall man with dark skin. "Good morning, Miss. How may I help you?" He asked with a slightly puzzled look in his eyes. His voice sounded deep, yet it wasn't intimidating of frightening. It was a bit soothing in an odd sort of way.

"Good morning, Sr. I'm Aurora Perish, I believe I was requested to come in regards to an interview pertaining to the housekeeper position." I replied with a small smile. "Oh, yes... of course. Right this way, Miss. The doctor will be waiting on you in the sitting room." He said as he opened the door wider for me to enter the home. The place looked beautiful compared to the apartment I currently live in. The place had dark wooden floors and lovely wallpaper. It was clear that some well off people live here; I honestly felt rather out of place.

I followed the man through the foyer and down a hall before we reached a doorway. "Miss Perish has arrived for the interview, doctor." The tall man said in his deep timber. "Please, show her in." A male voice replied. It wasn't as deep as the dark skinned fellow, but deep still compared most voices. "The doctor will see you now." He said as he stepped out of the way so I could enter the sitting room.

Again, it was beautifully furnished and decorated. But it was obvious that there wasn't any females present in the home from the style of the place, but I didn't mind. It looked rather... cozy. "Thank you, Cyrus." The male voice I heard before now had a face. He had dark hair and dark eyes. A beard and mustache accentuated his handsome features also. He was standing in the middle of the study with his hands in his trouser pockets.

The clothes he was wearing were black, all apart from the white buttoned down shirt underneath his waistcoat. "Hello, I'm doctor Kreizler. It's a pleasure to meet you Miss. Perish. Your resume is quite sparse, however... I believe you might be exactly what we're looking for." He said with a small smile that was quite charming. 'Doctor Kreizler... I've heard that name before.' I thought inside of my head as he offered me a seat so we could proceed with the interview. I sat there on on the chair he offered me to sit on and answered his many questions the best I could.

Most of them were about my cooking abilities and or experience, but his questioning soon took a turn that I wasn't expecting. I felt like I was being examined in a way I was only familiar with at home. A particular type of questions that let know where I'd heard of doctor Kreizler and what his profession is. "You're an Alienist?" I said in a slight questioning tone just in case my train of thought was mistaken. "Yes, I didn't assume you knew who I was when I introduced myself." He said with slightly furrowed brows.

His dark eyes had an intrigued gleam to them, as if there was a low burning fire behind those orbs of darkness. "Your name sounded familiar, but I wasn't sure who you were until you started questioning me as an Alienist would. You see... my brother is going to university to become one himself." I replied. "And you've been asked questions of the like by him, I presume." He said as another small smile spread across his face. "Yes." I replied with a little smile of my own. A few moments of silence passed between the two of us, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence.

"Well, Miss. Perish... how soon can you start work?" He asked, and I was a little surprised. I wasn't even aware that the interview had ended. "As soon as you'd like me too, doctor Kreizler." I replied. "Tomorrow morning will suffice." He replied with another one of his smiles. I couldn't help. It notice that his smiles didn't last very long, but that didn't dampen the impact of them. They made me feel comfortable, and perhaps that was his intention.

I thanked him for his time as well as taking me on as an employee. He called on Cyrus to show me out afterwards and don't think I could have been any happier than I was at that moment. "Have a good day, Miss. Perish." Cyrus said as I stepped out of the front doors of 283 East Seventeenth Street. "You too, sir. I expect we'll be seeing a lot of each other in the coming days." I replied, and he just nodded once before he closed the doors behind me. After walking down the steps and onto the sidewalk, I whistled for a cab.

A few seconds later one rolled up in front of me. I told the cab driver to take me to 380 Lafayette Street. The ride home seemed to take longer even though it was the exact same distance I traveled this morning. When I got home I walked through the bakery my parents use to own before going up to the apartment above. Sadness filled my heart as I looked at the empty shop, so I quickly made my way upstairs.

When I entered the little kitchen I found my brother Henry studying at the table with a cup of coffee next to him. "How did the interview go?" He asked without even looking up from his book. "It went well," I replied as I poured myself a cup if coffee and sat down across from him. "You'll never guess who I'm going to be housekeeping and cooking for." I said before sipping the strong black liquid that was in my mug. "Who? The Vanderbilts?" He replied with an amused laugh.

"No, doctor Laszlo Kreizler." I said, and he snapped his head up too look at me with wide eyes. "You aren't serious?" He asked. "I am. If you don't believe me then come to work with me tomorrow morning and see for yourself." I said with an amused smile on my face. He brought his hand up to his face and rubbed his upper lip with his forefinger. I knew he was considering the idea I had spoken of, but he soon made a decision on the matter.

Her decided not to go along with me to see if I was in fact, telling the truth. "I believe you, Aurora. But... if it's possible I'd very much like to meet him." He finally said as he moved his hand from his face and reached for his coffee mug. "I'll do my best. Now, if you'll excuse me... I'm going to get out of this silly dress." I said as I stood up and walked out of the kitchen. I figured Henry needed some time alone to focus on his studies, and talking about doctor Kreizler wasn't going to help him. I changed into a pair of brown trousers and a white buttoned down shirt.

Dresses have always been something I absolutely hate, but my mother always made me wear one when I was little. Sometimes I wonder when it will ever be socially acceptable for a woman to dress in men's clothing. Perhaps I'm ahead of my time, like father often told me whenever I did something that was against the social standards. At that thought a smile spread across my face. Once I was dressed I grabbed the current book I was reading and walked into the small sitting room.

Eventually Henry left for university, which left me all alone. I didn't mind being alone most of the time; however, there has been an alarming increase in crime as of recently. But I expect it to only get worse instead of better as time goes on. I pressed my thoughts to the back of my mind and focused on the words on the pages of the book I was holding. As the day went on, I hadn't realized I skipped lunch until my brother came through the door.

I was just happy I had stopped reading in time to cook us something for dinner. "It smells amazing in here. What am I gonna do when you're at work?" He said with a small smile as he took his hat and coat off. "You'll just have to fend for yourself." I replied with a small smile of my own. The two of us ate as he told me about his day at university. Apparently he had several big tests coming up in the next couple of weeks, and I wished him luck.

I really hoped that he was able to make a successful career being an Alienist. I just wish that our parents were still around to see how far he has come. After dinner I washed the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen while he went to his room to study. Deep down I wished our lives had turned out a bit different, but we're still better off than most people in the world. At least we aren't living in tenements where sickness and poverty love to dwell... where violence and abuse fester.

Not that those things can't happen in a middle class or wealthy family. The point is that I'm grateful for the had Henry and had been dealt even though it wasn't perfect. When I was finished I walked into the sitting room where I found my brother drinking a glass of whiskey as he read one of his psychology textbooks. 'I guess he got a little bored of being in his room.' I thought inside of my head as I joined him on the sofa. "Freud or Breuer?" I asked him curiously.

"Breuer." He replied without looking up from his textbook. I silently sat there and cleared my mind for a few minutes. My stomach was fluttering with anxiety as I thought about my first day of being a housekeeper. I really wanted to impress doctor Kreizler and whomever he might have living or visiting his home. It wasn't just the money that mad he me what to be the best I could be.

Perhaps it was pride or wanting to allow my brother the opportunity to meet the doctor. Either way, I was nervous as a bull in a fine China shop. To ease my worry filled mine I cracked open my book once again and lost myself in the world of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. When the clock chimed I looked up to see what time it was. "Ten o'clock. We better retire for the night or we won't be of much use in the morning." I said, and Henry agreed.

After making sure all of the lights were off, we went to out separate bedrooms. I changed into my nightgown and climbed into bed. Thankfully there was a nice cool breeze blowing in from the window. The heat of August seemed as if it would turn into the cool comforts of September soon. I think the whole city was ready for a break from the blistering heat. I ended up staring up the ceiling for a few minutes before drifting off into a deep sleep.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ A/N: Thanks for reading!! I really hope you guys like the story so far!

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scifrey · 5 years

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Chapter Two

Ah, hello. Was your lunch as disappointing as mine? I don’t know why I expected different - I’m not so much of a hedonist that food has rated high on the list of things that I require in quality, but I had hoped that because I had a guest someone would have made more of an effort. Ah well.

It is prison after all, Rachel, isn’t it? We are meant to suffer.

Oh, no, I don’t mean to imply that I am starved or served anything that will make me ill. Goodness no. Prisoner rights have evolved significantly since the first time I was incarcerated. Hmm? Oh, I’ll get to that. Patience.

How else do I suffer? Well, the worst part about being a mad genius, as you can guess, is the boredom. Solitary Confinement is a special kind of hell. Not because it is dark, or just the right side of too cold to bring activists and indignant lawyers done on the penury system, or because I am alone. I was quite happy to hear that they were going to be leaving me all alone. It felt like a breath of spring air, a small soft finally. It was lovely to be completely alone for the first time in ages. I don’t hate people, you must understand. But I have had quite my fill, I think. After all the… well, after that.

No, solitary confinement is hell because the only thing I have to do in here is count.

I am assuming that I will be in solitary for many, many years. Potentially as little as twenty-five, a life sentence, which is the standard sentence for the sort of criminal I am. But I was sentenced to one sentence for each life lost in the, ah… ahem. Apologies. I don’t… shall we call it a ‘tragedy’? As the papers elected to do? One thousand seven hundred and fifteen lives - forty-two thousand, eight hundred and seventy-five years in jail, if I serve the all of my first degree murder sentences consecutively. At thirty one million, five hundred and thirty-six thousand seconds per year, Rachel. Can you even imagine how many seconds that is?

And shall I count them all? I just might.

Will I live that long?

Ah. Likely not. Even I have not fully worked out how this little mistake works. Oh yes, it was a mistake. Haste and desperation do not mix well with laboratory protocols, and I was indeed in desperate haste when it happened.

Yes, I promise I will tell you that as well. Patience, please. All in good time.

Forty-two thousand years is a long time to be alone. Well of course I don’t actually believe that they will hold me that long. Two, perhaps three sentences in, I will be declared rehabilitated and released. A hundred years, that’s what I assume. If the prison system still operates the same way in 2132. That is a long time to be alone, and after the events of the last six decades, I welcome it.

But it is also a long time to become bored.

Sometimes I wonder if it isn’t a shame that I cannot be given the death penalty. It’s not humane but it would put an end to things. Sometimes I wonder how I would react if they tried. Sometimes I wonder how they will react if they try and fail. I still am not certain if such a thing would kill me - it is possible that my death may only come with the complete destruction of my every cell. Burning alive, perhaps…

Forgive my gallows humor. I am old and have had more time than most to come to terms with my mortality. Or lack thereof. I don’t long for death, but I sometimes wonder if it would be easier.

To avoid both thoughts of that nature and my boredom, I count. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Sometimes, when they are available, I count tiles and window panes, buttons on a coat, teeth on a comb, leaves on a tree, ants on tarmac, grey hairs on the head of the man in front of me on the bus.

But mostly I count seconds.

Hmm? Ah, well… good question. I suppose that it… well, it is because of the watch.

Grandpapa's silver fob watch. I recall it with a preciseness that sets it aside from all of my other admittedly numerous memories. I see it quite clearly in my mind. It glows, almost, with the nostalgia of youth.

Ah, but I’m getting poetic. You see, I forget nothing. I catalogue everything. That is what I Do. It is a small power, an obscure power, it doesn’t stack well against those found in the generations that came after me, but it is the most important, the most useful, and likely the most affecting thing to Do that has ever been recorded in one of Us.

But I was speaking of the watch.

Grandpapa worked on many watches over the years, other people’s watches, in that little street-front shop in that neighbourhood bordering the Player Estates, but I never saw him do anything but check the time on his beautiful art nouveau watch.

It never seemed to wind down. It was never scratched. Perhaps he tended to it dutifully outside of my sight, away from his place of commerce.

It was silver, the watch, with a chain like gossamer. There was a single polished gem where the chain met the loop, a dark garnet. The cover came open like butterfly wings, hinged on the opposite outer rims, and perforated in the same stained-glass way. The design was organic, something swirling and like the curling coil of a climbing vine. The numerals were roman, and the hands were shaped like stamens. They moved slowly, without the quick sharp tick to mark the time, so smoothly that one had to blink to be certain the second hand was moving at all. And the face was ever so faintly blue, like it had been made from a shaved-down sapphire.

A fairy watch.

Or at least, it seems like it must have been. If magic ever existed, if the Fae were real and not just my own primitive ancestors with the genetic abnormality occurring hundreds of generations separated providing both them and me the ability to Do, then I would not doubt for a moment that they had given Lachlan Munson the fantastical watch.

I don’t know what began my fascination with it. Perhaps my Grandpapa had dangled it over my face while I lay in my crib - but memories that old are lost in a mist for me even despite what I am. They are as shrouded behind the gauze of time as they are for most everyone else. I hypothesize it is because a child’s brain is not fully developed immediately upon birth and my genetic gift had not finished blossoming yet. Perhaps he dangled it over me. Perhaps I had been crying, and he sought to distract me by pulling me onto his knee to distract me. Perhaps he was showing me the watch because I was meant to inherit it, and he was trying to forge a connection through his son to his grandchild. Perhaps it had slipped out of his hand as he checked the time. Perhaps I had found it on his washstand.

This is one of the rare times when I can honestly say that I don't know when I first saw it. Only that it was as tied inexorably to my memory of my Grandpapa as the scent of his aftershave and the calluses on the tips of his fingers.

I also don’t know what happened to the fob watch - I never inherited it. By the time I might have been responsible enough to be given the watch, it was gone. And so was I.

Ah, but I was talking about counting.

I am seven at the time. It was the youngest a child was required to go to school, and though at the time we it was only compulsory to attend for four months of the year, I was as elated to attend as my parents were to find better distractions for my precocious mind and we had agreed that I would attend for the full term.

Being the son of a Playter, even a little known one, had its advantages. The school I attended was populated mostly with young boys and youths of a similar background to my own - upper middle class with merchant parents, all white, and mostly Presbyterian.

Shall I set the scene for you? It’s 1923, and Toronto is small and though dusty and muddy, neat. Few buildings that line the wide roads rise above three or four stories, and wires string along above the sidewalks in multi-tiered groupings. There are elegant office towers downtown, stone and small windows, elaborate cornice pieces and lintel carvings. Outside of those few blocks come the merchant buildings, Georgian red and yellow brick, housing departments stores and greengrocers and family run butchers and barbershops. Then next the row houses and cramped single family homes, dotted here and there with large houses with servants and gardens and low walls around their perimeters - high enough to make it obvious that the rabble is unwelcome, but low enough that the common gawkers can admire the fine lace of the curtains, the well-tended rose bushes, the gleaming windows.

Everyone wore hats outside, and on the roads the last of the horse-drawn vehicles are giving way to Tin Lizzies and early spoke-wheeled Fords, clunky bicycles, and blunt-nosed streetcars. Hair was pomaded, women wore dresses and low heels, men were clean shaven to thumb their noses at their father’s beards. Children played in the streets, or the public parks, and businesses were closed on Sundays so everyone could go to church.

All the photos of the time are sepia and silver, but I assure you there was vibrant colour all around - women’s evening dresses and bright red lips, the lush green of grass and trees, the blue of the lake, the riotous hues of the hundreds of billboards on any surface flat enough to paint or paste one onto it. It is a time of manners, and night-time parties filled with wild music and cocktails for the young, and what crime there was, it wasn’t happening in my neighborhood.

On the first day, the day I began to count, I was sitting on the bottom stair in my short pants and my high socks at the back of Grandpapa’s workshop, waiting for my mother to to come down from the apartment and her toilette. I have just come home from school, and she is preparing to go out with father - this was September of 1923, and the Great Depression was receding. Grandpapa’s business had survived, and father - one-handed as he was - had begun to carve a name for himself on the halls of local council chambers. If there was one thing my father was good at, it was talking. Mama had refused to go begging to her wealthier relatives for support, and had spent those lean years voraciously learning and employing every economizing ‘life hack’ that she could glean, taking in borders who could no longer afford rent on their own apartments, giving up stockings and pomade and cigarettes, and breaking into the trust they had begun for my education. I did not begrudge her that, and in the end I never ended up requiring extra funds for schooling anyway. It was a good thing Mama already owned the building in full before the stock markets crashed or we likely would have lost it.

The back stairs of the building were cramped, and a bit dusty. Like most structures on the Danforth, it was tall - three stories including the ground floor shop and a storage cellar - and skinny, with just enough space between the thick brick firewalls blocking our home from the building over for a table and chairs, or a double bed, while leaving room to walk without barking one’s shins on the furniture. There was a small cellar too, not deep, used for storing Grandpapa’s supplies and our root vegetables and pickles.

The back stairs always carried the dueling scents of Grandpapa’s workshop - mechanical oil and metal - with the upstairs smells of Mama’s perfumes and cooking, Papa’s cigarettes, furniture polish and whatever wilting flowers I could scavenge from the nearby parks to present, filthy and grinning, to my mother. Exactly four steps up, before the bend that took the stairs across the back wall, the scents mixed with perfect evenness, and that’s where I was seated.

The pin curls take extra time, and mother likes to have them just right before they go out dancing. There was a free community

As I wait, blood blossoms against the white wool on my leg, and I hope Mama will not notice. I worry less about her anger at me being untidy, and more that I know it will take an awful lot of scrubbing to get out.

Despite my vow never to lie as an adult, I was not a very honest child. At that moment, I am making up a story that will be less horrifically embarrassing than admitting that one of the older boys, Roger Phillips, had beaten me up because I had objected to certain term he had called me. This version of the story involves aliens and rocket packs. I am also not a very good liar.

The real story is this: Roger Phillips came from the sort of family that used more than three forks at dinner, and had told me, in no uncertain terms, that my father was a useless cripple and that my mother danced to nigger music. That means, he went on, that she was going to turn into nigger, and that made me the son of a nigger. I would be a nigger, too. I didn't want to be a nigger, because the young black men and women I had seen in Toronto were mostly servants. I didn't want to be a servant; I wanted to be a boy. And sometimes the black people weren't treated very well. I wanted to be treated well, so I told Roger Phillips that I was not a nigger, and would never be a nigger and liking Jazz would not turn my mother into a nigger. Secretly, I hoped I was right.

Of course, Roger Phillips was a lying little bastard. But I was seven. And Roger Phillips had said it with such conviction that I had believed him.

I had then surprised myself - and Roger Phillips - by swinging a fist at him.

I had never punched anyone before in my life, but my father had taken me to boxing matches. As I had, even then, perfect recall, I had adjusted my stance and my swing to match that of the great sweating men I saw in my memory, and lashed out.

Now, I must pause here to reinforce that perfect recall is not the same as muscle memory. I had no actual training as a boxer, no practice in making a fist, no experience in any sort of martial art. That I scored a hit at all was due to the aforementioned element of surprise.

The hit resulted in Roger Phillips getting broken nose. It also resulted in me getting pushed into an alley by his mates, and down into a pile of scrap wood and metal. The cut on my leg happened almost at once, and forestalled what I was sure would have been a vigorous beating because I had screamed so loud, and one of the boys got sick at the sight of blood. My leg and Roger Phillips' face were enough for him and he had vomited into the trash beside me. That had embarrassed the other boys enough that the whole posse had fled and I had been left to hobble my way home, alone and filthy.

I had pulled up my sock to hide the blood, but I had not known at the time that blood stains and spreads, that it seeps through wool just as easily as it seeps out of a cut. I snuck around to the back entrance to the workshop and dashed by Grandpapa to the water closet on the second floor to wash the dirt off my face and hands. Mother couldn't abide smudgy kisses, especially after she had put on her face.

As I wait on the step, as I did every night, I pull my homework out of the leather satchel that serves as my school bag and begin my arithmetic problems. Grandpapa only lets me sit up and play chess with him if my homework was finished, and Grandpapa's chess lessons are significantly more interesting than my homework.

I remember that Father came downstairs first, dapper as always and smiling around a slim cigarette that balances just so right in the centre of his bottom lip. It was a trick I often attempted to mimic with the sticks of lollipops and could never quite manage.

He kisses the top of my head, as always, and says, in this thick brogue: "Righto, sport? And how was school today?"

"Boring," I reply, as always. "Father, can't you make the teacher give me harder problems?"

Father ruffles my hair. "Now, what's the point in that, my lad? Then you'd have to advance past the other kids, and being the little fish in a big pond is not all it's cracked up to be. Much better to be a big fish in a small pond, boyo."

"I'm a small fish no matter what pond I'm in," I protest, but father has stopped listening. He is smoothing out his mustache in the tarnished mirror by the back door, and throwing his cuffs to ensure they sit right against his suit sleeve. His other sleeve is tucked up to his elbow, pinned discreetly so the bulk of rolled fabric doesn’t bring extra attention to his missing hand. He is dapper, and handsome in his one remaining good suit, carefully preserved and quietly patched these past four years.

He is not negligent of me or my concern. He is simply madly in love with my mother and is always just a little unsure how he landed such an amazing woman. So he tries very hard to be worthy of taking her arm. Sometimes he gets distracted. But he means well.

Meant well. He is sixty years dead, and committed to the present as I am, I sometimes forget.

But back in that memory, the soft click of heels against the hardwood stair make both my head, and my father's swivel on our necks.

"Woooeee," father says softly. "Now lookit that. Ain't that just a dame who's the bees knees?" The slang sits like rocks in my father’s mouth, awkward and roughened by his accent. He tried so very hard to be relevant to the folks he wanted to please - mother’s family, the people of the neighbourhood, the men of the political endeavors that he sought to

"Scamp," Mama teases from the top of the stairs. Even now I can envision her deliberate decent, black-lacquered nails skimming the banister, dark lips curved in a flirtatious smile as her kohl lined eyes flicked at my father, then indulgent as she turned them to me. "Oh, dear, and scamp," she admonishes, gaze narrowing on my wool socks, somehow managing to see them from her place above me on the stairs. I am convinced that this is something that all mothers can Do, whether they are one of Us or not. "Oliver?"

It is a question only in that her voice inflects upward. In every other way it is a demand for answers couched in disappointment.

"There was a spaceman. He said he was from Venus and the backwash from his jet pack made me fall into a—"

"Oliver," she interrupts, and her darkly painted mouth is a fearsome thing to behold as it curves down. As much as I was a dishonest child and a poor liar, I was also an unbelievable mama's boy. All of my clever tales of rocket ships and aliens crumble on my tongue.

"Phillip Rogers called you a nigger because you like jazz," I say softly. "So I hit him. Then they pushed me down."

"Oliver!" mother says.

"Hit him?" father shouts at the same time.

"Like this," I say, and show him the right hook. Father grabs my wrist mid-air and inspects my knuckles. They are scraped. I hadn't noticed.

"Oliver, my lad, this is unacceptable," father tuts. Grandpapa keeps a bottle of cheap Scotch in one of his work table drawers, and our commotion has summoned him with bottle and clean handkerchief. He dabs his pocket handkerchief into the liquor and applies it to my hand. The sting is fair punishment. "Men don't hit other men," he rumbles at me.

"But men defend their dames, you said so," I protest. "Besides, Papa shot people in the war."

Papa kneels in front of me. He puts his hands around my shoulders. "That was something different, Oliver. Fighting should be avoided. Don't be a dummy. And besides, your gorgeous mother is my dame to defend, not yours."

"I wish you gentlemen would stop calling me a dame," mother protests half-heartedly. She’s made her way around me and has joined father, crouched down by the bottom stair - not kneeling, she wouldn’t want to get a pull in her stockings - and peeling down my wool sock, revealing the cut there to her disapproving eyes. I gasp at the unexpected pain of the fresh air slapping against the cut, and grab at her shoulders. Normally she would admonish me for wrinkling her dress, but now she just leans in and kisses my neck.

Father cranes his head and pecks a kiss to her raised arm, right on the elbow. "Oh? And what should I call you instead? What do the young swathes say today? The cat's pajamas?" He kisses her shoulder. "My ducky?" Her neck. "My doll?" Her chin. "My tom-ah-tah?" The tip of her nose.

Mother slaps his shoulder playfully. "As long as it's not late to dinner." She winks broadly at me and I laugh obediently. The joke hasn't been funny since I was three, but it makes her laugh in return, and I dearly like her laughter.

"Off to your grandpapa with you," Papa says, pointing to where his own father has retreated to stand by the wall beside the water closet. "He’ll have a look at your leg. Do you need a stitch?"

"Don't think so," I mutter. Grandpapa is going to put iodine on it and it's going to sting and I don't want to go.

"I don't think so," mother corrects. "Full sentences, Oliver."

"Yes, mother. I don't think so."

"That's my boy." She ruffles my hair. "What a hero you are, defending your mama like that. Thank you."

"You're welcome, mama," I say.

"But no more hitting," father adds.

I squint at him for that. "But what if they really deserve it?"

"No."

"Can I hit a mobster?"

"No."

"What if they're robbing a bank?"

Father shifts his cigarette in an exasperated grin. "Fine, okay. You can hit mobsters if you catch them robbing banks."

"Okay," I agree. I hold out my hand so we can shake on it, and father, all playful solemnity, grasps it. We shake. "It's a deal."

"It's a deal," he says. "Now, do as your mother says. Water closet. Grandpapa and you can have dinner after - I’ve laid out your plates and there’s cabbage rolls in the oven."

"I don't like cabbage," I complain.

"But I do," mother says and kisses the exact middle of my forehead. "Off you go Oliver."

She stands and I do as I'm told. Grandpapa lays a warm hand on my shoulder, comforting, supportive. Mother stands and pats her hair, then smooths out the wrinkles my little fingers had wound into the shoulders of her dress.

She pecks father on the cheek, then rubs away the lipstick with her thumb.

"Should I teach him how to throw a proper punch?" father asks her as he opens the back door for her. They’re so wound up in one another I think they’ve even forgotten that I can still hear them as they step into the back alley, making their way down that toward the cross street that will allow them to access the Danforth and stroll at their leisure to the community hall and the dance.

"Absolutely not," mother says, as she lingers by the door, throwing a look over her shoulder at me. "Not until he's ten, at least."

"Boys will be boys. He's going to scrap whether we condone it or not, Flo. I'd rather he knew how to end the fight with one good right hook."

Mama sighs. "We'll talk about it in the morning. How's that?"

"Sure, whatever you say, darling."

"Butt me, my dear," Mama says, and Papa obligingly pulls his cigarette case from his jacket pocket with his one hand and flips it open. Once she’s plucked one out of the case, he pockets it and comes back up with his zippo, which he flicks open. Mama reaches up to touch the tip of the cigarette to the flame. I memorize that, too, the easy charm of it, the economy of movement. The fact that he obviously practiced to be able to do the whole routine smoothly with one hand.

And then, in a swirl of smoke, they are out the door and down the walk.

“Come, sit,” Grandpapa husked at me, and I toed off my shoes and yanked off my socks and sat on the closed lid of the toilet.

The iodine stung as much as I expected and I winced and almost succeeded in holding still. Grandpapa has hold of my ankle to keep me steady and my hands are fisted in his shirtsleeves and he is gazing intently at the cut with his loupe.

“Not too bad, lad,” he murmurs over the cut, cleaning away blood and dirt. “But I’ll be needin’ my tweezers for these splinters, I’m thinkin’.”

“Oh, no,” I blurt, trying to jerk away and Grandpapa lets me go.

“Here now,” he says, comforting and gruff, standing. “I’ll be right back. Sit still.”

“Yes sir,” I reply glumly, and he is back right away with said tweezers and an oil lamp besides. He puts the lamp down on the floor by my leg and begins the grisly business.

Despite the pain, after a while the boredom comes.

If you ever write this confession down, make sure you transcribe that with a capital letter - The Boredom.

I didn’t know how to explain it then, save that it was a kind of deep, brown mood that yanked me into spirals of dissociation and empty staring as my brain went dark and dumb, or a spinning mind and limbs that would not rest, my mind flashing and popping without tempo like a string of cheap fireworks. It was encompassing and happened whenever there was nothing particular to occupy my mind. If I already knew what the teacher was explaining, or if I had completed a book and had nothing further to read, if the games of the other children were not engaging in their complexity, if the conversation of the adults around me was repetitive or outside of my understanding simply by dint of not being privilege to specific facts or information. I required stimulation at all times, and at this point was too young to know how to seek out that stimulation myself - I had no library card of my own, no laboratory, no adult who yet understood how deeply, frustratingly unoccupied I often was.

I start to fidget. Mama hates it when I fidget. That's what she calls it when I start counting the ceiling tiles, head right back on my neck and lips working silently over each number, counting the small wrinkles in my skin, or the number of small round scabs. This time I was starting at Grandpapa’s head, fingers tapping on my thigh to keep account, trying not to jerk out of Grandpapa’s hands as he worked and jiggling the other leg to expend the energy the the pain sent zinging up my spine.

"What are you doing, Olly, my boy?" Grandpapa asks.

"Counting," I answer, because the one person I never lie to is Grandpapa.

"Counting what?"

"How many black hairs you have," I say. "I was going to count the silver ones, but there are too many. They are too close together and I can't see them all individually. But the black ones stand out."

Grandpapa runs a wrinkly hand over his pomaded hair and chuckles. "I see. And when you're done counting those?"

"Maybe I'll count the ceiling pattern again, though that never changes."

Grandpapa's dark eyes narrow. "Do you count a lot, Olly?"

"Yes, sir."

"What sorts of things do you count?"

"Blades of grass, clouds, the checks on the back of Edith Parker's dress,” I admit slowly. No one’s ever asked me before. “She sits in front of me in class, even though my last name comes before hers in the alphabet. She was too short to sit behind me."

Grandpapa leans back and studies me. "Why do you count, Olly?"

"Because sometimes I have nothing else to do, sir."

"So talking with your Grandpapa isn't stimulating enough, eh?"

I feel my cheeks going red. I am embarrassed. "That's not what I mean," I protest. "I mean, I can listen, and I can answer, and I can count all at the same time. I am really good at school, so, when a test is over, or something like that, and I'm waiting for the other kids to finish, and they're slow, I count. In my head."

"Seems like sometimes you fight, too.”

“Only today,” I promise. “Never again.”

“Don’t make promises you don’t you’ll be able to keep,” Grandpapa says, and sets aside his tools. I’ve been so engrossed in counting that I hadn’t noticed that he had finished, wrapping my leg snug with some of the hospital gauze that Mama, ever the nurse even now, insists on keeping in the medicine kit.

“But I won’t--”

“You won’t intend to,” Grandpapa says, washing his hands. Not knowing what else to do, I say on the toilet. “But sometimes a fight comes to you, without you meaning to. Let’s go up to the kitchen, there’s more space there.”

Grandpapa takes the time to throw the bolt on both of the downstairs doors and turn his shop sign over to ‘closed’. And then, standing beside the kitchen table, Grandpapa shows me how to curl my fingers into the kind of fist I can use to strike a person without breaking my own fingers.

When I’ve punched his palm to his satisfaction, we dish out our cabbage rolls and part way through dinner I resume counting his black hairs.

"Alright then." Grandpapa digs his watch out of his pocket and flips it open. The glass face is polished and shiny. "Come sit on my knee, Olly," he says, and I do, eager to scramble into his lap and cuddle against his heartbeat. "Can you read this?"

"It just says I, two Is, three Is, I and V—"

He chuckles, cutting me off. "Those are roman numerals. It says, one, two, three, four... Do you see the pattern?"

"Oh! V is five? Is X ten?"

"Yes. My, you are a clever boy."

"Why doesn't your watch have numbers? I thought watches told you the time, but it doesn't have the time, it has all the times."

"Olly, my boy, let me show you how to read the time. This is the hour hand. This is the minute hand. And this is the second hand. Do you see it moving fast? Tick, tick, tick. Like you, the second hand likes to count. One, two, three, four..."

"What is it counting?"

"Seconds. The precious, wonderful, important seconds that make up the moments of our lives, ticking by."

"That's something worth counting," I venture softly.

"And how," Grandpapa whispers back.

"When does the second hand stop counting?"

"Never, Olly my boy. Never."

#manuscript #manuscript snippet #The Maddening Science #J.M. Frey #1920s #Toronto

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