#*i* give a shit about torah at the gay bar

[kuraagins]

My highlights from falsettos UK

Please scroll past if you’re going to watch the show and don’t want spoilers!! Also feel free to ask if you have any other questions about his production <3

-Trina is is four jews instead of Jason!!! We see her get married to Marvin and they use the veil as baby Jason

-The ‘slavery’ is Trina being pregnant/going into labour

-When Jason comes on at the end of the song Whizzer gives him a piggy back and it’s so pure

-“When I put the steak in” Oliver literally thrust against Daniel from behind

-They were so snarky and flirty with each other I loved it

-overall there were more Whizzvin kisses throughout the show than both broadway productions, which obviously I LOVED

-the tango break in thrill of first love was about half the length and was more dancey, they kind of dipped each other but it wasn’t anything overly extravagant

-They had a VERY passionate kiss at the end of the song gay rights

-Daniel gave us anxious Marvin rights, in Marvin at the psychiatrist he was like hugging his knees to his chest and speaking all soft about Whizzer

-THEY KEPT IN “its queer mr Marvin!” which is honestly one of my favourite jokes in the show

-Elliott’s ‘my fathers a homo’ was HILARIOUS he came on doing this really camp dance and it honestly had the whole audience in stitches that kid could ACT

-Laura’s ‘I’m breaking down’ was PERFECT, her voice is literally incredible and she perfectly captured Trina’s despair despite keeping the song hilarious

-like one of the choruses she just hummed the lyrics while drinking straight from a bottle of wine

-I cannot praise this woman enough she is the perfect Trina

-Jason and Mendel dancing in Jason’s therapy was adorable as usual

-I loved Joel as Mendel in the marriage proposal

-He was so awkward and Trina was so confused it was so funny yet so so sweet

-A personal highlight was him starting to cry when he said “don’t start to cry” and Trina immediately being like “I’m... not crying?”

-At the end of Tight Knit Family (reprise) Jason is stood in between Marvin and Mendel and Trina comes on and protectively takes him off stage

-Trina’s song was SO beautiful it moved me to tears

-She was in her pyjamas and was basically getting into bed while she sang, but Laura just looked so sad and desperate it broke my heart

-Which lead us perfectly into march of the falsettos! In this production it was staged as Trina having a nightmare; Jason crawls out from under the bed and the men walk on in really stiff, creepy movements and torment her

-The song had to be pre recorded because the men had on these REALLY creepy smile masks covering their actual mouths

-Also on “asses bared my delight” MENDEL is the one who says it I think because on that line he bends Trina over and basically shows her ass to the audience

-during the chess game Marvin was drinking the whole way through, and you could see him drinking more quicker as he was getting more and more frustrated

-there was no love in this version, Marvin is patronising and mean towards Whizzer, who doesn’t want to take any of his shit

-when Whizzer wins Marvin basically goes around and slams/hits a bunch of furniture and he looked really apologetic immediately afterwards, until Whizzer sang the “Whizzer’s supposed to make the dinner” section of the song, and he got PISSED and packed Whizzer’s suitcase on stage while they sang and then threw it at him.

-Marvin hits Trina had me SOBBING

-When Whizzer says he doesn’t love Marvin you can SEE him get all tense and angry as he paces between all of the characters before the anger comes out in a burst as he hits Trina

-basically when the hit happened he got real close to her and she had her back to the audience as he slapped her face. Mendel pushed Marvin away and Jason called out for his mother and hugged her with Mendel.

-Daniel boys had these WONDERFUL moments of vulnerability with Marvin. After the hit he looked so shaky and small, and he was breathlessly trying to apologise but he was almost scared of himself

-One of my favourite moments in the show was during the “he’s mine” section of I never wanted to love you. Marvin is trying to talk to Jason but Trina is holding him so protectively as if she doesn’t want Marvin anywhere near him.

-Father to son was beautifully simple. Minimal lighting with Marvin and Jason sitting cross legged on the floor. They hug and Marvin kisses his head as act one ends

-this version of welcome to falsettoland was EVERYTHING

-When the Reagans are mentioned they’re projected on the picture frames around the stage and Whizzer looks so disgusted

-THEN the lesbians come on stage covering their faces with signs saying “sodomy is sin”, but when they’re introduced they turn the signs around and they say “Love is love” !!!!!!

-also the lesbians got the HUGEST applause, as they deserve

-the ‘congregate in Central Park’ line now refers to them congregating for a protest march!!! The other characters have ‘no nukes’ signs

-There was the CUTEST ad lib between Jason and Mendel in the Everyone Hates His Parents dance break (which was iconic by the way

-it basically went

Mendel: “they should put this in a musical, we’re good!”

Jason: “Which one?”

Mendel: “I don’t know, I’m tired”

-I adored the restaging if what more can I say

-Basically Whizzer was falling asleep while reading on a chair, and Marvin is being all soft and adoring, and he takes Whizzer’s glasses off for him and takes the book off his lap and make sure he gets to bed, it’s so domestic and adorable it melted my heart

-Charlotte And Cordelia’s chemistry throughout was PERFECT

-at the end of more racquetball, when Whizzer collapses he ad-libbed like “Marvin I’m fine, I’m fine!” But Marvin was so concerned and worried about his boyfriend and immediately rushes to his side and holds him.

-Then theres the sound of ambulances and the lights on stage dim and the projection portraits flash and a voice over says ‘Dr Charlotte to emergency’ and a projection of a heart monitor appears above Whizzer and beeping can be heard, it’s all a really nice touch and really sets panic in you for Whizzer

-Laura’s holding to the ground was beautiful, as anticipated, and as she sang they set up the hospital and got Whizzer into bed, Charlotte and Marvin fussing over him. It was a subtle but really nice scene.

-In days like this Marvin gets Whizzer this ridiculous cartoon ‘get well soon’ card and Whizzer looks so disgusted by it but Marvin puts it up anyway

-cancelling the bar mitzvah was another one that made me cry, Elliott was crying real tears, which made Laura start crying, and they were hugging each other so tightly and his voice was muffled because of this, and they just had this perfect, believable mother/son dynamic

-during something bad is happening (reprise) Jason is the only other person on stage which COULD be interpreted as Charlotte telling Jason what’s going on with both Whizzer and his dad :’(((((((

-I loved Ollie’s take on you gotta die sometime. Instead of belting at the end he was so quiet he was barely audible, and he’s so weak and hunched over before Jason comes in and he tries to look strong for him.

-At the end of the bar mitzvah Jason stands on the table and sings his Hebrew (Mendel hands him the Torah but jason doesn’t take it as he knows the words by heart :’) ) and he holds his hands out to Whizzer, and Whizzer tries to take it but he collapses and the tight knit family surround him and try to help him and Jason says in this tiny, heartbreaking voice “Whizzer! No, I want to help!”

-In What would I do Whizzer is still alive and in his hospital bed and at the end of the song the heart monitor projection goes flat as the tight knit family surround a sobbing Marvin

-Mendel sings falsettoland (reprise) and blows out a candle lit during the bar mitzvah

-also at the end the cast (in costume) are projected onto one of the photo frames and it’s so beautiful

-anyway I love this show if you can please go and see it!!!!

[spideyyverse]

Grease! AU

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3| Part 4

Chapter: 4/7

Characters: Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak, Beverly Marsh, Ben Hanscom, Stan Uris, Mike Hanlon, Bill Denbrough, Audra Phillips

Pairings: Reddie, Stenbrough, Benverly, Madura (Audra x Mike)

Warnings: Homophobia, swearing, underage drinking and smoking

Word Count: 1,986

Author Notes: Chapters will be based on a song from the movie, I’m not sure I’ll do each song but if there’s a specific song you would like me to include, let me know in my ask box!

Also, the losers are very ooc. I understand they’re nothing like the way I’m portraying them in my story. Please do not get angry for the way I’m writing them, it’s solely apart of this au and this is not how I actually view them.

MAJOR NOTE: I’m so so sorry it’s taken me weeks to update, I recently just returned to school and things have been hectic. I’ll try my best to write more frequently but updates may be slow. I haven’t been too active on my account recently, I’m sorry, I’ll try to be better. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Tags: @universal-gay 

This song was featured during the school dance scene. The original singer is Frank Sinatra but the band covered it.

------------------------------------------------------------

Blue moon You saw me standing alone Without a dream in my heart Without a love of my own

Eddie--Nor Richie-- didn’t intend for anything to happen that summer leading up to now. It wasn’t like Eddie wanted to visit Derry in the first place, but the constant “Eddie Bear you need to visit!” and “Your aunties miss you!” from his aunts irritated him to the point where he booked the flights to Derry himself. After a long and extremely worded lecture (and a lot of yelling) from Sonia Kaspbrak, both of them set off on a summer that would change everything.

Now don’t get Eddie wrong, he loved his aunts to death (and would much rather live with them than that momster), but he couldn’t take an entire summer of endless cheek pinches and sloppy kisses on the cheek. He knew he had to make the most of his time so he may as well explore the town--Not that there’s was much to explore anyway.  

It wasn’t until he found himself walking through a forest that lead him to a quarry. He found himself not staring at the summer day in front of him, not the way water sparkled nor the way the soft summer breeze blew every now and then. No, he found himself staring the boy in front of him. He didn’t understand why, he only knew what the back of the boy looked liked. For all Eddie could know, this boy could be a serial killer. Maybe he was surprised that someone was here, someone was in this dead beat town. 

After an awkward greeting--well mainly awkward for Eddie, Richie didn’t seem to ever stop talking once he uttered a noise--Eddie found himself falling easily for a boy he’d only known for what? An hour? Or could it have been six? Richie truly didn’t know when to stop talking, but Eddie loved it.

It was a shock to Eddie that Richie had a loud personality. He’s never one to judge so quickly but Eddie found the boy sitting by himself, listening to Africa by Toto, while smoking. He seemed like a loner. 

“Says Eds, tell me something,” Richie spoke slightly lowering the radio.

“Yeah?” Eddie looked up, “Also, stop calling me Eds,” He quickly added.

“Cute! Cute! Cute!” Richie leaned over and pinched his cheeks, “Ever been in love?”

Eddie practically choked on air but it did get him thinking, has he ever been in love? Sure he’s had a couple of boys here and there, some relationships lasting longer than others, but he’s never actually been in love. Maybe some feelings towards his previous boyfriends had been stronger than others but nothing to ever consider being in love. Love was almost foreign to him.

“No,” Eddie broke the silence but continued, “My turn to ask you a question!”

“Hit me with it spageds,” Richie chuckled, taking a puff from his cigarette.

“Spageds? That’s the best you can do?”

“It’s a work in progress.”

Eddie took a deep breath but bit back a smile anyways, “As someone who’s only been visiting for two days, do you ever think about leaving this town? I mean, there’s nothing here.” Eddie looked around the quarry.

“No.” Richie simply replied.

“No?” 

“I’ve never thought about it. Not until now anyways,” Eddie patiently waited for Richie to continue, “I’ve never thought about it because I didn’t need to. I’ve never had anything to run towards but now, today in this very moment, I know where I need to run to,” 

“Where?”

“You.”

Blue moon You knew just what I was there for You heard me saying a prayer for Someone I really could care for

It was finally the day of the dance. Most high schools would get into the spirit, hanging posters and the constant PA reminders that ticket sales go up every week. However, Derry high had been nominated by a TV station to host a dance competition during the event. Eddie didn’t pay much attention to the eagerness from everyone at school, it was something about the two winners getting a pretty big money prize. But in all honesty, Eddie could care less. He was more worried about being outed to the entire school--and on national television to make matters worse.

 Eddie was not--and will never--be ashamed for being gay. Richie neither will ever be ashamed to be bisexual but living in a conservative town where almost everyone will absolutely shit on you for being anything less than straight can be alarming--to say the least.

As much as both boys wanted to hold onto each other and dance together just like every other straight couple, it just wasn’t possible. 

Both boys walked into the gym, their entire ensemble of the Pink Ladies and T-Birds following right behind them. 

“Says Eds, how about I get us some punch?” Richie awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

“As long as you don’t spike it Tozier,” 

Richie smirked, “Can’t make any promises my love!” He walked away with a wink, giving Eddie the familiar feeling of butterflies in his tummy.

“Everything all right Bev?” Ben asked. Bev sticked out like a sore thumb, a hair wrap was around her head. Whatever she was trying to hide, wasn’t subtle at all. 

“Peachy Benjamin,”

“Bev?” Eddie slowly asked.

“Eddie I’m fine! Everything is alright!” Bev tried to reassure the boys but failed. Bev ended up stomping away to the bathroom with a poor Ben following behind in her in hopes to cheer her up.

Eddie went ahead and found a table large enough to hold the nine leaving the remaining four at the entrance of the dance. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t sunshine and rainbows for the rest of the group. 

While Audra and Mike were a happy couple, that still didn’t stop them from being racially discriminated against. It took Mike ages to convince his parents to let him go to public school once homeschooling for middle school ended. He didn’t realize exactly why his parents didn’t want him going to public school once he experienced how cruel kids can be. Being in the T-Birds gave him a place, but he still felt he could be much more than this.

Audra was Mexican (A/N: There’s not enough latinx representation nowadays so I’m making Audra Mexican-American. Also ya girl is Mexican so this is me trying to live through my stories.), both of her parents were immigrants, but Audra herself was born in America but being the daughter of the only two Mexicans living in an almost-all white conservative town was more than difficult. 

Being something other than white or straight instantly made you a bad person. No one could look past your skin color or your sexuality, they define you because of that. They don’t define you because of who you are. 

While Audra and Mike got nasty and dirty looks from practically the entire gym, they pushed it to aside and let themselves be together. 

This wasn’t the case for Stan and Bill.

While most of the school suspected Stan liked boys, they couldn’t think the same for Bill. It was one thing to suspect but to completely out someone is another thing. 

Stan was the rabbi’s son, he had to live up to expectations. If his father even heard a word about Stan being gay, it was over. 

Bill was close with his parents, but he still hasn’t come out to them--thinking of the idea scares him. His little brother Georgie on the other hand, he knew. When Georgie was nine, he found a fourteen year old Bill crying in the middle of the night. After a long talk and explanation of what being pansexual meant, Georgie was quick to accept him. Now being twelve, Georgie still loved his older brother with everything inside of him.

Despite the rabbi’s son, Stan himself was never religious. Sure, he attended every ceremony at the temple and even read from the torah at his bar mitzfah, but he was required to do that. Stan wasn’t religious, but if there was just one thing he could pray for, he would pray for Bill. He would pray to find happiness with Bill. 

From the corner of his eye, he could see Henry and his gang smirking at them. Bill seemed to notice this because he quickly made his way over to the table. 

If a prayer truly worked, Stan was praying for a miracle. 

And then there suddenly appeared before me The only one my arms will hold I heard somebody whisper please adore me And when I looked to the moon it turned to gold

The TV crew had been setting up for the big competition, people lining up at the restrooms to fix themselves up while others began to make their way towards the dance floor. 

“Hey Eds! We should join!” Richie suggested.

“Sure if you want the entire country to find out we like dick,” Eddie remarked then continued, “And stop calling me Eds!”

“Aw yeah! Spaghetti man with the dick jokes!”

“Beep beep Tozier.”

“Hey! Hey!” Richie put his hands up in defense, “You’re technically not wrong but that’s not the point. We don’t need to get up in each others ass to win the competition--I’ve already got your mom for that--the teachers will be on us if we even try. It’s disco isn’t it? We don’t need to do anything couply we just need to do something entertaining.”

“I hate the fact that you actually have a brain in that head of yours.” Eddie sighed while Richie smiled. 

“What should-” 

“Richie!” A voice squeaked from behind.

Richie whipped around and saw his ex girlfriend heading towards him, her arm locked around the one and only Henry Bowers.

“Greta, hi.” Richie clenched his teeth together and took a deep breath.

“Who’s this?” Eddie whispered from behind Richie. 

“Hi hun, I’m Greta,” She stuck her hand out in front of Eddie the continued, “I’m sure Richie has told you how great I am in bed?” She sneered.

“He would have told me if you really were,” Eddie muttered under his breath. Both Greta and Richie heard this, Greta bit back the urge to launch herself at Eddie while Richie tried to subtly hide his laugh with a cough. 

“See you in the competition Richie-kins!” She blew a kiss towards his direction and dragged Henry away.

“Richie-kins?”

“Let’s not talk about it.”

“Ladies and gentlemen! Gather around! Our annual high school dance off is about to begin!”

Everyone gathered with their respective pair and waited until the principle stopped talking about the rules. 

The principle finally walked off stage and the music began. Some couples were immediately eliminated while others tried to out-dance other couples. Some couples went for a simple attempt at the disco while others went for hand-jives. 

The cameras were going around the dance floor, people tried to make their selves seen but were removed from the floor. Eddie could feel himself getting more and more nervous as the camera got closer. Richie didn’t seem to care, he was in his element. As the camera reached the two boys, Eddie instantly made a B-line for anywhere but the camera. 

Richie’s face dropped, he tried to follow Eddie but was stopped when someone pushed him back. This ‘someone’ happened to be Greta herself.

“Where you doing handsome?” Greta whispered.

The pair were one of the only few standing left and it didn’t help that the host was encouraging them to dance while pointing the camera at them. Richie had no other choice but to finish the competition with a new partner. He seemed to forget about Eddie in that moment, but Eddie most certainly didn’t forget. He saw the whole ordeal go down. 

Eddie ran out of the high school gym and ran all the way straight home. 

[agitatogrande]

Falsettos Passover Headcanons

So I figure that Jason's baseball game was in April 1981 (Baseball is a spring sport but April can still be kinda cold, hence Trina's long sleeves and Mendel's sweater). If we assume that Marvin and Whizzer got together again THAT DAY, they would be a couple during Passover, because Passover was late that year. So the TKF was all together! Yay!

Marvin, Trina and Mendel all argue over what haggadah to use. Marvin's family has used the Maxwell House Haggadah for years, Trina's parents always had to wing it because her father is Ashkenazi and her mother is Sephardi and they compromised by creating their own haggadah together but Trina doesn't want to go all the way out to Westchester to get copies of it, and Mendel wrote a version of the haggadah with the Jewish student union at Columbia when he was an undergrad and it's full of typos and Whizzer is like "what is this hippie shit?" and Mendel's like "oh, please, your grandmother's name is Mary Kate Catherine McCatholic, don't come after me about my haggadah."

They decide to compromise: they'll use Mendel's haggadah, they'll serve the foods that Trina's family had at their seders when she was growing up, and Marvin gets to read all his favorite parts.

Cordelia is super interested in all things Jewish, and asks Jason a ton of questions about the holiday. Because Jason's still studying for his bar mitzvah at this point, he's in hardcore Jewish Mode and tries his best to answer the questions so he can tell Trina he's doing something Jewish but still avoid having to learn his Torah portion. Cordelia finds out that it's another one of those "they tried to kill us, we survived, let's eat" holidays and offers to help Trina cook. Because most Passover food is pretty narsty even before Cordelia's influence, Trina doesn't notice how atrocious Cordelia's attempt at Jewish cuisine is until after the holiday, which is why Trina hires her for the bar mitzvah.

Trina and Marvin also argue about matzah ball soup. Marvin likes his matzah balls light and fluffy, Mendel and Trina like theirs heavy and dense, Jason prefers to have multiple small matzah balls that he can launch across the room with a spoon into the dog's mouth, and Charlotte is very confused by the idea of matzah balls in general.

Charlotte has a bunch of medical books and Jason decides it's appropriate to show everyone what boils look like when they get to the "Plagues" part of the seder. Nobody wants to eat after that.

Whizzer makes a lot of constipation jokes. He is in charge of dessert and brings those gross kosher-for-Passover rainbow cookies, and Marvin's like "that's too gay, even for me," and Jason refuses to eat them after Trina tells him that they won't make his poop rainbow.

Jason is in charge of the after dinner entertainment. He subjects all six of his parents to a two hour long stuffed-animal reenactment of the Exodus story, complete with musical numbers. At the end, he gives out autographed copies of the script and it is revealed that he and Whizzer have been working on it together for six months over the phone (Jason dictates because Whizzer is a much faster typer).

The dog finds the afikomen before Jason does. Jason's not even mad because the image of the dog running around with a big sheet of matzah in his mouth is so funny. It's less funny when the dog tries to bury the matzah in Jason's bed and Jason spends the next three months finding crumbs everywhere.

Charlotte has a lot of Jewish friends, but this is the first seder that she's been to and she reads everything as it's written, figuring that any typos she sees are just Hebrew words she doesn't know. Marvin has to correct her and be like "no, that's a typo, it's 'boils,' not 'bolis,' and that's salt water, not 'slat water,' Mendel's just a sloppy typer."

Whizzer smiles through the whole seder, and Jason's happy because he thinks it's because Whizzer and Marvin are back together, but really Whizzer is just trying to hold back laughter at the various ways Cordelia pronounces "Charoset."

Jason is sick of always having to be the one reciting the four questions, so Cordelia asks if there's anything she could do to make it better for him. He says yes, and that's why she beatboxes while he recites them.

Charlotte reads Ms. Magazine and passes her old copies on to Trina. Trina discovers a "Women's Haggadah" in a 1976 issue and decides that she'll have a "lady seder" one year if she and Mendel have a daughter together (my headcanon is that they eventually have several).

[deafwestnewsies]

Love’s More Romantic Unplanned

...and that’s the miracle of judaism.

cross posted to my ao3! check it out! 

Jack grabbed Davey’s wrist as he turned to walk away. “Wait!” He yelped, causing Davey to scoff and turn around.

“What, Jack?” Davey was tired. Tired of acting like it was some secret, like he had to reveal it to the whole world. It wasn’t that crazy! Tons of people were just like him. Kath had took it really well when Sarah told her, and now they were dating!

Jack looked at a loss for words. “I- I… I should have known when I met you by the orthodox synagogue.” Davey raised an eyebrow. “I should have known when I saw you buying extra lox at the bagel shop.”

“What does lox have to do with anything-” Davey asked annoyed, but Jack cut him off.

“I should have known, you’re not to blame! I should have known we’re not the same.” Davey rolled his eyes and tried to yank his wrist out of Jack’s grip, but he held fast. “It doesn’t take an Einstein, you and Sarah have the nose and the name! And that name is Stienstien.”

“My last name is Jacobs, you know tha-”

Jack looked right in Davey’s eyes, sliding his hand down his wrist and laced their fingers together. Davey rolled his eyes again, but smiled slightly. “I’m not sure what you want me to do, but I think this is worth working through. I’ll admit that it’s a little out of the blue, but I could be Jewish for you.”

Davey’s grin widened a little more, but he still looked faintly annoyed. “Jack, you can’t just choose to be Jewish. You have to like, do things.” Jack let go of his hand and started waving his arms around like a crazy dictator.

“Like on holidays! I’ll stop baking gingerbread, start baking challah. When Hanukkah comes, heck, I’ll light the mandala!” Jack spun circles around Davey while he laughed.

Davey grabbed Jack’s shoulders and stopped his twirling. “It’s Menorah, dummy. And you don’t make the gingerbread, Specs does-”

“Menorah, then!” Jack broke free of Davey’s grip, picked up one of hands and began to dance with him ballroom style.

“If you could just choose me, I’ll sing eidledeidle not fala. As far as the culture I might need a clue, but I’ll give it a shot, ‘cause I’ve got to be Jewish for you.” They continued to dance as Jack made ridiculous claims and tried to get Davey to laugh.

“What is ‘eidledeidle’ and ‘fala’???” Davey exclaimed.

“I’ll go with you to temple, I’ll try to learn Yiddish,” Jack said.

Davey cut him off. “I don’t go to temple, and I learned Hebrew. We are a strict ‘No Yiddish’ household.”

Jack smiled wide. “I’ll start eating Kosher, I’ll even play quidditch!”

Davey shot him a pointed look, and Jack laughed. “Nope, not a Jew thing, Jack.”

“Well teach me some new things, I won’t be the slightest bit skittish! I’ll do it by note till it feels like it’s true, yeah till I’m verklempt I’ll attempt to be Jewish for you.” Now Jack was doing ridiculous leaps through the air, and Davey wondered what he was trying to prove.

“Verklempt. That’s a big word for you, Kelly.” Davey noted. Jack stopped for a moment, breathing hard after all of his strenuous dancing. While Jack stayed bent over, wiping at sweat, Davey admired the way his shirt clung slightly to his chest, highlighting all the right areas. He also appreciated the way his lips stayed parted, ruby red and slick with spit and absolutely kissable-

Jack sprang up again. “I could be Irish, or Russian or French, though Chinese is-”

“A bit of a stretch.” Davey interrupted.

“Just wait, even your Rabbi will call me a mensch. Did I mention I’ve been practicing my kvetch?!” Jack was back at the leaping and spinning until he made himself dizzy.

Davey sighed. “I’ll say it one more time. I don’t know Yiddish.”

“Fine! I will adapt where the av’rage guy freezes, and if I have to have “Just Friends” talk, I’ll have it with Jesus.” Jack scowled at the sky, as if the big man himself was speaking directly to him. “Sorry Jesus, you’re just not my type.”

Davey laughed, a full, broad sound that got Jack to smile again. “Whatever they are I could learn to like latkes!”

“My mom made you some during Hanukkah!”

“And if we have sons they’ll all have Bar Matzahs!”

While Davey glared at him, Jack doubled over in laughter. “Bar Mitzvahs, I’m joking!”

“Jack Kelly. Did you just say you want to have kids with me?”

Jack stopped for a moment, and there was a second before Jack smiled awkwardly. “I promise I know things, enough not to ruin Shabbat, ‘cause if that’s what it takes then that’s what I’ll do, just don’t run away and one day I’ll be Jewish for you.”

Davey shook his head again and started walking away. “I’ve been Jewish my whole life, you can’t just walk in here-”

Jack ran out in front of him and blocked his window opening. “Tell me you’ve never questioned one holy command.”

He tried pushing past his arm. “I’m gay, I think that questions like, eight-”

“Tell me, don’t you think love’s more romantic unplanned?”

Jack’s arm held fast, but Davey kept trying. “Oh and I’m sure Sarah, Katherine, and even that cute counter boy at Tibby’s were all unplanned.”

He looked taken aback for a moment, but looked Davey straight in the eyes. “Tell me you’re nervous, or start with the service, just tell me where you stand. Tell me “I need you!” Tell me in Hebrew!”

“Finally! Hebrew!” This pleased outburst caused Jack to smile again and whirl Davey back into dancing.

“Teach me lechayim and horcrux and oy. Just let me try. Instead of hi, I’ll say shalom till my hovel feels like home, but I won’t say goodbye, so here’s what I propose:” He said these words to a lilting tune, one that was perfect for dancing. At the end he spun Davey clumsily and set him down on the windowsill. Jack knelt down in front of him and took his hands.

“I’ll read through the Torah from cover to cover, till even Moses could see we were meant for each other.”

“I haven’t even read the whole Torah.”

“You know I adore you, so let me fight for you, together we’ll take on your mother.”

“My mom could and will kick your ass, Kelly.”

“It might be a prayer, but a prayer can come true.”

“Prayers aren’t wishes, Jack.”

“I dare you to dare me, I swear I’ll come through.”

“I don’t even know where you are half of the time!”

“When I’m with you there isn’t a thing I can’t do.”

“Oh.”

“So if you’re inclined, I won’t mind being Jewish for you.”

Davey took Jack’s face in his hands and stared into his eyes for a moment. They were filled with a quiet hope, not unusual for the dreamer, Jack Kelly. There was something new this time, something Davey hadn’t seen before. And it looked an awful lot like love.

“You’re going to have to brush up on your Hebrew,” Davey whispered before kissing Jack softly.

watch barrett wilbert weed sing this song!! she's super funny in it :))

up next: sarah sings Shiksa Goddess to katherine

i don't know shit about being jewish please correct me if i got anything wrong

also i was really tired when i wrote this please forgive me

[helloarmchairphilosopher]

Writer's works in progress

I saw that someone else had written up their wip-s, so maybe writing up mine will make me GET ON WITH IT and help me write more on one (or more) of them. 1) 1938 Brooklyn Murder mystery: in which a Ripper (any killer with a knife is always dubbed a Ripper by the press, it's a thing) stalks the young men of the queer/gay community of Brooklyn. One by one young men die and the cops either can't or won't do anything about a few dead [slur]; the mob doesn't care either; war looms in Europe; the Mayor is trying to clean up the city before the World's Fair; the dynamics of the queer community itself is changing as men and women who previously might not have considered themselves part of it are thrown in with it, with new laws meant to manage a moral society; and two men, in exactly that predicament, are watching their friends dying at the hands of the Ripper and hoping they're not next, while dealing with feelings for each other. (The historian in me has run amok.) 2) The Sweater Curse: (Bagginshield) In which hobbits consider it bad luck to make crocheted or knitted garments for themselves (a sign that one has no kin) because sweaters are made and given between first and second degree blood relatives (parents and children, grandparents and grandchildren, aunts and uncles and nieces and nephews). Other kinds of garments are given freely. If a sweater is given to an unrelated person it is considered a proposal. In which dwarves make their own crocheted or knitted garments for themselves (a sign of their craft-skill and self-sufficiency). Other kinds of garments are bought and sold freely. If a sweater is offered as a gift to another person it is befuddling at best and an insult at worst. The Sweater Curse in our world says that if a person, usually a woman, starts to make a sweater for their significant other, usually a man, before they are married, the relationship will end. The fic I'd imagined had a happy ending - with Thorin thinking that Bilbo had been making the sweater for himself. "You loveable dunce, did you never notice I'd keep borrowing Kíli to size it correctly for you? I'd be swimming in it!" 3) transman Phil Coulson fic. I'm not trans, so I'd have to tread carefully here. My real aim is feminism and femininity. A male Coulson has leeway in a manner that a female Coulson would not. A male Coulson is not told that he is missing out on the essential manly quality of being a father and a husband; he is not automatically assumed, on walking into a room, to be the secretary or the assistant. Women always have to be twice as good to be perceived as half as competent, and then (often) they're told not to be a b*tch about it. But all this from the point of Clint Barton, who is kind of clueless, and who really loves Phil (I kind of love this ship and like the rest of the fandom I'm not really sure why), means that he just sees grade-A badass Phil Coulson. Full stop. No edits. No matter what is, or isn't, in his past, in his pants, in his medical file, or what his parents used to call him. 4) Werewolf romance novel Tall dark and handsome (TM) is the antagonist who is stalking and eating people. He's a creep who plays into rape culture and preys on young women who think that his bad boy vibe cover up anything other than a black heart. The protagonist is a smart and kick-ass young woman with a shiny degree and huge student loans working below her talents, as a barman, which is how she knows of the antagonist and his creepiness. She has a friend, her landlady's daughter, who is close to her age. (Yay for passing the Bechdel test? I'd better, after actually meeting Alison Bechdel.) The love interest is this sandy blonde dorky guy, a drifter who works construction and throws darts at the bar. When people start getting chewed up he's the prime suspect, and even our protagonist doesn't know what to think - but only until our antagonist tries to take a bite out of her, and he intervenes, as a werewolf. And from there it's your usual. I got sick of the werewolf books with creepy rape culture overtones and not passing the Bechdel test and thought, I could do better. 5) a Clint Barton/Darcy Lewis fanfic, in which she helps patch him up after Loki's mind control. In the comics, Clint had a pretty messed up childhood. Circus, dad who beat him, taught to shoot by a man who beat him and then used him first as a thief and then as a killer (or so I loosely understand; and I'd be using a variation on that in the fic, anyway). He would have had to have therapy for it at SHIELD just to be functional as an agent around people. But Loki's mind control messed with all that, breaking the locks and self-management he'd had for so long. He'd have major depressive episodes and PTSD following it. And Darcy, being a civilian, might not be the best person to bring him out, but she was there for Thor and the Destroyer. She saw some shit. And who knows what she had in her childhood. (I do, because I created it, but I'm the author and I can do what I like.) What was done by Loki cannot be undone, but what was done before Loki could, just maybe, be done over again, more painstakingly and with greater care, like walking around the glass shards of a broken vase. 6) a Fíli/fem!Bilbo fic: in which a pregnant Bilbo runs from the Mountain. (Thorin died of his wounds, but Fíli and Kíli survived.) Bilbo, in whatever feminized spelling of one's choosing, won't, can't, stay. The memories of battle, of being shaken like a rat over the gates of Erebor, are too fresh and too raw. The halls reek of dragon and she hears Smaug's eerie deep voice creeping in the shadows. No, she cannot stay. She must go somewhere green. A month, a year, five years, forever, she must go somewhere clean and cleansed. And Fíli, her One, can't go. She knows this. And she, even though she's his One, can't stay. Magic lover's nonsense and whatever, there's reality you have to deal with, and sometimes reality means PTSD and dragon stink. So they argue, the night after his coronation. She is due to leave the next day with Gandalf and it'll be the last time - it's emotionally fraught. He's mad and she's mad, because they both *want* it to be different. In my mind's eye I saw the argument, in the indirect result: his name was Frerin. And, of course, that can't be let alone, since as the eldest son of a king, half-hobbit or no, he is heir apparent to a throne, and a birthright. Tolkien wrote that dwarf populations at the end of the end of the Third Age and into the Fourth dwindled until the race itself failed - meaning that there were too few women having too few children. This is obvious enough from what we see in the appendices. A king having a son hidden from him and raised by a non-dwarf woman, even if she is his mother? A scandal, the fanon assumes, and I presume with it. 7) a Bucky Barnes in slightly more efficient and effective hiding fic. There's that photo going around of Sebastian Stan from the set of his latest movie and he has this big mustache, and jeez if Bucky looked like that, some people commented, and not all 90s Grunge, he might have escaped a lot better, since the photo Zemo circulated assumed that Bucky looked like a hobo. Personally I don't see Bucky growing that mustache (looking like Howard Stark, who he assassinated, would give him a heart attack). Nor do I see him as a teacher, of math or otherwise, as the original post suggested; he'd never pass the background check. But there's another picture of Sebastian Stan I saw that was also relatively recent (but before any of the photos from the set of I, Tonya) with a full beard, and if he'd grown that out, if Bucky had grown that out, maybe he might have looked like Norm Abram back when he was younger. So, maybe a carpenter. It's a sin to hide that beautiful jawline, but effective. Bucky would get away from HYDRA and SHIELD both, just by staying off the radar and not looking like what they expect. He could even use his real name - there are 4,207 other James Barnes-es in the US, what would make him special? There are only 27 Clint Bartons. One borrowed social security number, one rented house, anywhere would do but I was thinking Santa Fe (because I've been there and can describe it, it's cool enough in part of the year he can wear long sleeves outside and the rest of the year there's air conditioning and he can wear long sleeves inside to cover the arm, and because it's a tourist town, people with money to spend on his carpentry work). From my notes, in particular: He checks in at the spots the Smithsonian mentioned. Red Hook, Dumbo, Coney Island. Those spots in Brooklyn that are supposed to have had that towheaded little captain America to be and his sidekick to become running amok in the 1920s. Some pieces fit. Bits of bitty Steve fit in, here and here, slotting back into Bucky's memory. Steve is a huge, pun intended, part of who he once was. To have made Bucky forget Steve, no wonder he forgot himself - - or was it the other way around, that Bucky forgot himself because he forgot Steve? 8) nonfiction, Torah commentary, starting with Genesis (Bereshit). 9) nonfiction, the history (I've been working on for five years) of the Hasidic movement during the Holocaust. Various dynasties and their rebbes, and the rebbes' successors, and the survival of the Hasidim and the Hasidut - how it worked, where it happened, how it happened; but from there, which members of the rabbinical families did not survive? Why? What attempts were made to save them? When attempts were made, who was given first preference and what stated reason, if any, was given? These are questions that have not yet been answered. And I have limited access to Hasidim, by language and by culture. These are not questions anyone would ever give me a straight answer to, of course. I have strong suspicions. Nothing more. The demographics of death - these are records we do have - say a lot. And the final chapters of the book, or the last volume, or the next book, also needs to be written: the rise to power of the other Hasidic dynasties, the massive shift in power away from Poilisher-Yidish culture elsewhere due to the near destruction of that community. Lubavitch, Bobov, Satmar, Belz, and Ger - only the last is Poilisher-Yidish. Before the war the largest Hasidic dynasties were to be found in Poland: Ger, Aleksandr, and Radomsk. There's a lot here no one else has done. I suppose it falls to me. So, I have many things to work on. I have lots to choose from. If only my brain would ACTUALLY LET ME DO IT, DAMMIT.

[sincerelymrnaked]

Danger Room: Toronto’s most hostile comedy show for hecklers

“GET OFF THE STAGE MAN BOOBS!”

“DON’T EAT THE MIC YOU FAT FUCK!”

“GET DOWN BEFORE ONE OF YOUR BUTTONS HITS SOMEONE IN THE EYE!”

“SAY A JOKE YOU SAGGING ASSHOLE!”

We walk into the bar known as The Corner Comedy Club, a grimy comedy club with a fitting slogan: “It’s so small it’s funny,” on the corner of John Street in Downtown Toronto. A fat comedian in a red plaid shirt and ripped jeans is sitting on a stool on the stage with a mic in a sweaty hand, getting chewed alive by a crowd of the most ruthless hecklers I’ve ever witnessed.

“YOU’RE AS COMICAL AS YOU ARE SKINNY!”

“Yeah, that’s what your mom said when I was sitting on her face last night!” Fat Comedian calls.

“BOOOOOO!”

“GOOD MOM JOKE YOU FUCKING AMATURE!”

“I PAID TEN BUCKS FOR THIS SHIT!”

The poor guy can’t get two sentences in without being ripped to shreds. Chirps fly through the bar like rapid gunfire, the heavy-duty artillery leaving the brave comedian wounded and humiliated on the grimy stage. He’s struggling to stay upright, pushing weak incest and dead baby jokes, desperate for the slightest trace of laughter that he’s actually responsible for, trying to make a joke and not be the joke. He has no such luck.

But this wasn’t your usual comedy night. This was Danger Room — a night were most comedians don’t last more than one minute before the shark tank of hecklers swallow them whole.

And one of my best friends was soon to perform.

Let’s back up to six hours prior.

I was at the gym near the free-weights when I bumped into one of my old buddies from High School. He’s a writer too and whenever we see each other we often dive into discussions about the pressure to engage readers. He told me he’s been writing a new short story every day, but that he’s also been doing some stand-up comedy to test material in front of a live crowd. 

“Really? Stand up?”

“Yeah man. There’s this open mic place I go on Sunday nights on Danforth and Broadview.”

“How’s the crowd?”

“Depends on the night. Sometimes there’s silence, but it’s a good crowd to go to for your first time. Everyone’s pretty open and positive.”

“I’ve got a friend who I’ve been wanting to get on stage for a while. He’s a born comedian! I would love to get him on.”

“You guys should definitely come by!”

My friend Phil is the funniest guy I know. Not only can he spit out any accent with cunning precision, he can also spiral into rants of improvised comedy as if he wrote the stuff down and rehearsed it for weeks. He can play any role. Become any character. He’s quick. Spontaneous. And damn right hysterical. But here’s the problem: he’s nervous about getting up on stage.

Here’s why.

Phil and I are fraternity brothers, and a couple years ago I convinced him to do some stand up for a sorority’s philanthropy event. I had helped him prepare his set, making sure to throw in some of his signature stuff. His Frat Bro PC character he not-so-loosely based off of South Park was one of his best rants, and we decided it would be fitting for a Greek life gathering.

But were we ever wrong.

The audience of sorority sisters, children, parents, and distinguished philanthropists were not prepared for a set screaming about how “PC DOESN’T STAND FOR PUSSY CRUSHING!” 

Though his material was comedic gold to my buddies and I, it wasn’t the right time or place, and it left a sea of mothers and daughters staring at him with lowered jaws and wide eyes — all in deafening silence. 

Phil’s been rightfully nervous to get back up on stage ever since. I figured tonight would be the perfect opportunity to get him back on that horse.

I shot him a quick message: “We’re going out tonight.”

After meeting up with Phil and some buddies for a quick pre-game, we all hit the road in my buddy’s soccer mom van and drove twenty-five minutes to Danforth and Broadview. This was the night of Thanksgiving Sunday and most of us had dinners with our families that delayed our departure time, so we were running a little late. Actually we were running very late. By the time we arrived at the bar, the show was over and everyone was gone.

Giving up, we considered the alternatives of going to another bar, racking in some shots, and maybe getting Phil a mic anyway. But then my buddy Bernie came up with a final idea.

“There’s another comedy club not too far,” says Bernie, scrolling through his phone. “It’s just on the corner of John Street. Ten-minute drive from here. Some show called ‘Danger Room.’”

“Is it open mic?” Phil asks.

“I think it’s for actual comedians. And I think there’s cover.”

We agree to check it out. Nothing else was happening anyway.

When we get to the bar, we ask the guy running the door — a bearded man in a leather jacket, sporting a red bandana around his head — if our buddy can get up on stage. “You done this before?” he asks Phil.

“This is my first time,” Phil replies, not counting the sorority event.

“First time? And you’re fucking stupid enough to come here!”

In that second, as if on cue, we hear from inside: “GET OFF THE STAGE MAN BOOBS!” 

We shuffle through the crowd and find seats near the front of the tiny bar. The place reeks of beer and tobacco smothered clothing, with faint lighting illuminating a small wooden plank constituting a stage. Drunken chirps are firing from a group of guys scattered all around the grubby place; the poor comedian currently up is being publicly decimated. He struggles to squeeze in some of his prepared jokes until one of the drunkest hecklers literally rips him off the stage.

“YOU ARE FUCKING AWFUL!”  

“PLEASE! NEVER COME BACK HERE!”

More comedians step on, and nobody does any better. The drunker the hecklers get, the more shameless they are with their heckling. This results in comedic desperation: comedians resort to new levels of vulgarity in hopes of cheaper laughs. Jokes about sex become jokes about overdosing on drugs, which becomes jokes about being fucked by dads, which spirals into jokes about being a child predator. The laughs never come. Well, besides the laughter deriving from shameless heckling. The cycle continues.

One guy is heckled so badly, he tries to avert the attention to the Muslim sitting in front of him, hoping to use pathetic racism to weasel out of the ambush. (Yup, a real stand-up piece of shit.) He’s proven weak and unfit, and this only amps-up the insults.

“YOU LOOK LIKE A GERMAN SKATEBOARDER THAT ALSO DJ’S!” one guy screams at a comedian in a bomber jacket with a big man-bun dangling from a backward cap.

“AND YOUR CAP LOOKS LIKE IT’S TAKING A SHIT OUT OF YOUR HEAD!” another heckler adds. (Not all of them were so clever.)

“I THOUGHT THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE COMEDY, NOT A SPECIAL-ED ASSEMBLY!”

Why would anybody stand up before such a merciless crowd? Simple. To battle the most vicious monster there is, and survive to tell the tale. Most of the guys who go up are actual comedians, who come to Danger Room to test their skills against the worst crowd you could possibly encounter. After a Danger Room attack, silence would feel like a compliment.

But even these guys were used to getting up on stage. Phil was up next. 

He sits on the stool and raises the mic to his mouth.

“WHAT’S THIS PUSSY GOING TO DO? SING HIGHSCHOOL MUSICAL?”

“GET OFF THE STAGE PEDRO!”

“YOU LOOK LIKE YOU WATCH CHILD PORN AND JERK OFF IN PUBLIC SWIMMING POOLS!”

Despite these initial heckles, Phil starts off strong by faking weak. He begins with a quaky, loud and high-pitched voice, playing the character of someone terrified to perform — like a voice-cracking thirteen-year-old about to read the Torah for his Bar Mitzvah.

“H-high g-guys, my n-name is Ph-Phillip and I’m s-super n-nervous t-to perform t-tonight in front o-of all o-of y-y-you…”

Before the next heckle can fire, he jumps up, snaps into a booming southern accent — blaring with confidence and authority — and ascends into an incredible rant about the astonishing diversity of the crowd which he “ain’t used to in ma neighborhood back in Virginia!”

Everyone erupts into laughter.

A heckler screams a dumb Jew joke.

He switches from his southern accent to his Gay-Nazi-German-accent. “Vhat nobody veally knows is zhat vee vere all gay!”

His set is completely improvised. He rolls with the punches and starts introducing all his classic characters that were once confined to the frat house living room: Puerto Rican drug dealer, Australian pervert, Chinese businessman — those that were previously only available to the boys at the end of a drunk night with pizza boxes scattered on the floor. For the first time, Phil’s contagious humour is completely unleashed. And nobody could get enough of him.

When the heavy chirps start flying, unlike the other guys, he doesn’t revert to desperate comedy by raising the vulgarity or trying to deflect the cruelty towards people sitting in the crowd. He’s genuinely funny, and not desperate to make the crowd think so. He simply is.

And if you think I’m just being biased, even the drunkest hecklers gave him a big round of applause. It was the first and only applause of the night. None of the boys could believe it. But I’m gonna be a huge cheeseball and say I knew he had it in him all along. 

As we walked out, the owner told Phil he could come back anytime. Two comedians gave him their business cards as they hacked darts outside the bar. People who were in the audience asked him where his next gig is. He was the newly-emerged celebrity of the night. 

People often feel like they need to ease into challenges. They prefer slowly moving forward, gradual development, and keeping their dignity intact throughout the process. But sometimes your dignity has to be compromised. Sometimes you need to dive headfirst into the trenches of difficulty in order to come out stronger. Sometimes you need to go all in.

Failure has a way of holding people back — the silence of the sorority is something that may’ve stopped Phil from further performances, but the bravery to move on was the key that popped open the door to the night’s success.

Now, allow me to be sincerely-naked-honest for a second: There’s a lot of assholes in the world. 

There’s a lot of people who are going to give you every reason possible to stay safely buckled to your seat. They’ll take pride in ripping you down, in laughing or shaming you for even trying. But that’s all part of the system of growth. When you make yourself vulnerable and try to pursue something scary, chances are you’re going to eat shit sometimes. And most times, people will shit on you.  

It’s one of the biggest risks of starting a blog — hell, about writing in general. Not everyone is going to agree with the things you’re writing about, and a whole lot of people will make the effort to make their disagreements heard loud and clear. They’ll so much as bombard you with novella-long comments about how you don’t have the right to say the things you’re saying. They’ll send you hate emails. They’ll even straight up say that you don’t have what it takes and that you should just give up — the equivalence of a heckling reaction to a punchline. 

When I was the opinion editor for my university paper, it was a hard pill to swallow: the acceptance that not everyone will like or agree with my stuff. But I eventually began to see flack as a necessary part of my development, similar to the way comedians who come to Danger Room see ruthless heckles. It’s part of the process, and the more accustomed you get to the horrors of people protesting against your stance, the taller you eventually stand. 

In summary, there’s two ways of approaching assholes who love to shit on you like it’s their day job. 1) You could play victim and cry about being verbally assaulted, complain about feeling unsafe, or blame all lack of success on the pricks that walk the earth. 2) You could suck it up and use those same assholes to make you stronger. 

We may bomb it. We may kill it. But until we try, we’re letting the hecklers win.

We all live in a Danger Room. So let’s use those pricks to our advantage.  

Let’s raise our red solo cups (or cheap glasses of wine if you think you’re classy or something) to the assholes that make silence feel like a compliment — and who make our worst fears a fucking joke.

Sincerely,  Mr. Naked.