#Irene shutting down ALL her criticisms | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ktheist · 5 years ago

Text

saving grace | 2

muses. duke!yoongi x lady!reader

universe. arranged marriage / minor traces of magic in history

concept. driven into a corner with the new king, seokjin, offering to marry you off to a prince in a foreign land and a persistent mother who would seize the chance of a lucrative marriage for her daughter, you’re forced with the only other option to secure your freedom ‒ enter into a beneficial agreement with the man who reaped the seeds of war, the duke of cralon, yoongi min.

words. 5.2k

warnings. mentions of war, it’s cliche and cheesy all in one package

index. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / finale

three days later, you’re stuck in the garden, holding a teacup in one hand and an unsettling urge to let a vexed frown make home on your features. as soon as yoongi’s letter arrived the morning after the last day of the celebration, your mother had speedily organized a tea party. invitations were exclusively sent to a selected few - namely those with an uncanny ability to light the matchstick of rumors throughout the city.

“lady ___, you’ve grown into a fine woman. when i last saw you, you were but a child crying over the countess forbidding you from having another cookie!”

“it’s been two years since you debuted into the society, hasn’t it, lady ___?”

“oh my, that’s an important time span between being legally introduced to the society and finding a marriage prospect, speaking of which, is it true? that the duke of cralon has taken a liking to the lady?”

“well-”

“of course,” your mother speaks over you, a pride-ridden smile gracing her lips, “only my ___ would be able to tame the beast of war though i was quite worried since there hasn’t been an official proposal from the duke but alas, he must’ve been busy attending to matters after returning from the war - in fact, he’s coming today to discuss arrangements about moving into the house of min and starting lessons as the future duchess.”

the ladies begin to whisper among themselves in pairs or groups of threes while your mother hides her satisfaction behind the cup of tea she brings to her lips. in truth, yoongi never mentioned anything about moving into his manor nor was there any talk of a ring - since it’s a faux engagement, you would feel enlightened if there weren’t any extravagant spent on you only to blind the eyes of others.

“lady ___ is quite lucky to have her face as a saving grace and capture the duke’s eyes,” krystal’s modulated tone sends the ladies quietening down.

if she hadn’t been the daughter of a marquis, her brusque nature would have landed her at the far end of the table where those with a lack of influence and benefit to the hostess, would be arranged to sit.

while she praises your beauty, she criticizes it being your only good fortune.

you catch a glimpse of isabelle’s apologetic smile from next to baroness armwell. only a few of the ladies are here with their mothers while the rest are acquaintances of your mother and noblewomen you choose to avoid in a social setting.

“i have my mother’s genetics to thank for that, lady krystal.” with that, a disarming smile blooms on your face. having nothing to argue after your plain admittance, she reverts her attention to the stirring the cup of tea in front of her.

“oh my, not only is lady ___ beautiful but she’s also humble!” one of the ladies chirp while the others chorus in agreement.

it is a few empty praises and gossips later, almost as though the stars and planets have aligned for this exact moment, the raucous of reigns and wagons echo from somewhere outside. that must be him.

you’re about to stand up and excuse yourself to welcome yoongi when the familiar heat of watchful eyes makes you turn to the one person you know would be sending telepathic messages to stay put, let him come to you.

the deadpanned expression that slips on your face is unconcealable but not at all effective in telling your mother how unnecessary and subtly rude it is to have yoongi come all the way to the garden and become a showcase to these women.

nonetheless, you sit with your back straight and ready to bolt as soon as the butler announces yoongi’s arrival. clad in his black and yellow uniform that reminds you of shimmering gold underneath a moonlight, yoongi’s naturally expressionless face lights up into the most amicable smile when he sees that you’re not alone, “ladies, apologies for intruding your tea party.”

“oh my,” marchioness seastein, lady irene’s mother, murmurs from next to you.

judging from the woman’s fixed gaze - as though she can see nothing but yoongi - you doubt she’s aware of her blatant ogling. not that you have any right to stop her.

“your grace, it’s been awhile,” you dip into a curtsy.

when you let go of the fabric of your dress, a gloved hand slips into yours before a pair of warm lips presses against your knuckle. this time, it’s not just marchioness seastein that starts fanning herself.

“___, it seems you forgot about what we talked about that night at the palace,” yoongi’s crimson eyes find yours with a sort of melancholy but as the duke owns two sides - one for the public and the other for when you’re behind closed doors - you’re unsure whether he’s truly saddened by the formal unfamiliarity you display.

regardless, you weren’t that flustered girl from that night. and you can’t let such scandalous intonation leave this place.

“my, how could i call you by your name so freely when we’re not even officially engaged?” throwing your gaze to the golden encrusted teacup, you shyly pull your hand to your lips and in the midst, catching your mother’s approving smile at your delicate front.

sending prayers to the goddess to be whisked away from this unbearable atmosphere, you almost let out a sigh of relief when yoongi chuckles, “i did not know my ___ harbors such worries. shall we go look for engagement rings now? i’ve made a booking at whitlace.”

that warrants a round of whispers from the ladies and a pleasant nod from your mother. nobody in this kingdom hasn’t heard of whitlace. it’s a boutique that sells only the high quality jewelries and are frequented by only the richest of nobility.

“your- yoongi, you didn’t have to!” your exclamation may have been dramatic but perhaps that is what saves you from spending another minute in the eyes of these noblewomen.

the elation coursing through your vein after finally being able to leave, clouds your better judgement. it is only once you’re in the carriage that bears the house of min’s double dragons and the carriage begins to shake gently five minutes into the ride, do you finally come to your senses, “where... are we heading off to, duke?”

the aforementioned man is already staring at you, wine red eyes piercing through your soul as he sits across from you. arms crossed over his chest, “you used me.”

it doesn’t take a genius to understand what he means, “it was my mother’s idea to have you come and meet me in the garden but yes, i did use up one favor that you owed me.”

when his stare doesn’t lighten, you find yourself involuntarily lulling your head to the side as though looking at him from a slightly different angle would give you the answer you’re looking for.

he must have noticed too when his stiff shoulder line finally sags, eyes fluttering shut as he exhales silently.

“it seems i finally understand why you wish so strongly to be consulted beforehand,” the confession hovers in the air like the white clouds that dots the sky. plainly meant without any hint of malice. and perhaps, it’s the never-before-seen innocence that urges you to explain yourself.

“if you think i’m punishing you, your- i mean, yoongi,” you correct yourself at the faintest pout that appears on that gentle visage, “then you’re mistaken-”

“i know,” he throws a troubled gaze out of glass window, “you’re not that kind of woman.”

in the midst of the gentle shake of the carriage and his hair swaying to frame his features, you wonder what exactly the type of woman he sees you as.

but you swallow the question that teeters on the tip of your tongue as you too, avert your gaze to the moving scene on the other side of the window, “very well.”

for the first time, the silence you share with another person does not make you want to barge through the door and escape. since you could walk and talk, your mother has been hiring tutors to help you with academia and etiquette lessons as well as host garden parties to help you make acquaintances with the other ladies of the noble households.

before you met the crass boy that talks too much and lack the refinement of a noble, you did think that those ladies you gathered with were your friends. but you couldn’t raise your voice at them without being branded rude. couldn’t talk about the state of other kingdoms without being side glanced as if you’re teetering over areas of interest that doesn’t suit a lady of a noble house.

but seokjin was inevitably a boy. you appreciate that what you couldn’t mention to the ladies, you could talk freely with him.

secretly, you yearned for a friend who you could rave about the latest fashion and jewelries without being shut down and revert the attention to what high-end dress their father and mother bought for them.

that is, until you met isabelle. she did not share your sentiments about how repulsive and superficial these gatherings were. that they were mere means to survive in this social world. without an influence, one is regrettably nothing. but she wasn’t one to jump in on the bandwagon of badmouthing one of the ladies behind their backs when they’re not there. though, she did nothing to stop it either. unlike you, she had no stance in anything.

perhaps that was why you wouldn’t allow yourself to become more than acquaintances but less than friends to her. but if and when yoongi acts and baron armwell is exposed for his crimes, she would be done for.

perhaps it’s the guilt that eats at your conscience. perhaps it’s the part of you that values the camaraderie formed between you and isabelle. but either way, you say, “yoongi, the warrant for baron armwell’s arrest should be ready right about now, yes?”

his stare remains indecipherable but his lack of refute gives you confidence in your assumption, “i’d like to use that last favor you owe me.”

if baron armwell is caught, then the warehouses would be seized by the king in compensation for the losses incurred from his thieving. then, the armwells would have nothing to sustain them. and their gambling-addict son can’t be relied upon to do something about it.

“isabelle has been learning the ropes of managing the warehouses,” with hands crossed over your chest, you lean back against the carriage, the picture of the timid but apt lady’s smile flashing behind your eyes, “if baron armwell is arrested then most likely, the warehouses will be seized but if isabelle or the baroness confess to the baron’s crimes...”

“-then they might be able to keep the warehouses and only source of income,” the man finishes for you.

“yes,” you find yourself nodding, “she may not know what her father’s been up to but she’ll learn to accept it to save her poor mother and get the king to send her brother into a rehabilitation center so he won’t continue gambling what’s left of the money they have.”

you can’t be the one to tell her because it would be oddly suspicious that you’re the friend she told her family secrets to and your supposed fiancee is the one who will be arresting her father. and there’s no telling which path she’ll take even if it was you who told her. but, it wouldn’t be a problem if one of your vassals is the one to approach her.

“could you give me time to make her come to you instead of arresting the baron?”

the moment that he takes to ponder on your request sends tremors down your spine. no matter how many times you force yourself to meet those calculating scarlet eyes, you can never get used to the feeling of having your dress stripped off to expose every part of you.

“you wouldn’t accept my help even if i offered, would you?” he finally says - unexpectedly so.

something tugs on your conscience as isabelle’s azure blue eyes flash at the back of your mind - those same eyes will be filled with tears because of you, “no, i have to do this myself.”

“very well,” he nods, a trace of reluctance clouding his eyes, “but you don’t win wars alone.”

it takes a moment for you to register his words and the warning that comes with it. politics is a different kind of war with words as weapons, “you don’t win wars through brute force either.”

the silence that befalls the carriage not unexpected. there are few people who’s ever seen holding a conversation with the duke. though he’s accrued a large sum of inheritance from his title, enough to threaten the royal family, his family’s lack of interest in the throne has allowed the previous king to turn a blind eye to the ducal house’s lack of presence at important events. or rather, that was exactly the reason the previous kings sighed in relief when they heard the min family.

“...quite a formidable opponent.” it’s not the untimely untterance after the conversation has ended that catches your attention, but it’s the faintest trace of smile on his face that makes your eyes widen in surprise.

“your grace?” you almost regret speaking at all because the smile disappears into a frown for the longest moment before the realization hits you, “sorry, you told me to call you by your name, yoongi.”

“as long as you know,” he doesn’t seem as displeased but the smile is gone as he shifts his eyes out to the window.

the carriage has come to a trot. the sight of the street and vendors lined up along it coming into view. though you’re still sitting across from each other, the invisible distance seems to evaporate into thin air. and for some reason, though you don’t notice how or when the silence’s changed into something comfortable, you find yourself wanting to break it. just so he’d look at you - he always does when’s speaking to you. and perhaps that smile you’re starting to think is from your imagination, would come back.

and what’s better than to blurt out a mindless wonder as to why he led you to his carriage where the footman who stared at you with mild surprised. greanted, his master came back after not even 15 minutes of being inside the manor. yoongi’s answer is a straightforward one - as the man himself.

yoongi doesn’t mean to steal you away from your home nor does he actually have a slot booked at whitlace.

“it looked like you were suffocating in there,” he simply says, wine red eyes fixed at the window, but a heartbeat later, he turns to you with wide eyes, as though he’s just thought of something, “unless you wish to go there - i’m sure count wynver wouldn’t have any objections to a duke dropping by without notice.”

“actually, there’s somewhere else i wish to visit but never got the chance to,” you divulge, the smile on your lips somewhat freer than you expect to be.

“alright,” lifts an eyebrow, that faint smile on his lips making him appear like a playful youth than a feared overlord and confirming your state of sanity, “but you’ve used up all your favors, this time you’re owing me.”

“fair enough,” the line of your shoulders jolt in a shrug, your much noticeable smile on your lips.

just as the palace holds a celebration for the returning knights, so does its people. the streets seem livelier than ever with merchants busily trying to attract customers, laughter echoes from every corner and knights bearing the royal family’s uniform clicking their heels together and standing in salutation until yoongi gestures for them to be at ease.

“the crown’s changed but it doesn’t seem like anything else has,” you assert, returning mrs. rutherson’s smile. it’s been three years since leslie’s introduced you to these people who cared for her before she came to serve you.

“you would think riots would be breaking out all over the kingdom but because of seokjin’s status - a maid’s son, the people seem to be more accepting of the ‘half-bred prince,’“ that’s the name the aristocratic faction calls him and sometimes the royal faction as well, “granted, the first thing he did as king was distribute seeds to the people to prepare for winter.”

seokjin rose to throne by taking his father, the previous king, and his brother, the crown prince’s lives with the help of bonyth, the rival kngdom of cearis. the two have been in a tense political relationship since the last twenty five years due to their similar economic backgrounds.

and because of that, his position is vulnerable as the royal faction must feel that they’d been betrayed by the sudden siege while the aristocrat faction has been divided into two sides. one sees this as a chance to strengthen their influence by supporting the new king and the other is wary of his connections with the outside world - some believes he’d sold the kingdom to bonyth and that cearis is now an unofficial territory of the bonyth with seokjin acting as the puppet king.

a familiar voice rasps, bringing you back to the present, “you spoke as if you detest the king for blackmailing you yet you say his name so naturally. i’ve also never heard of you praising someone so generously”

it doesn’t take a genius to know the unspoken words that comes with his assertion: it makes one wonder what your true relations are with each other.

you don’t know where yoongi’s loyalty lies. in the beginning, making seokjin think that you have the upper hand to crush his already vulnerable position by pretending that yoongi likes you, seems like an easy task. all you needed was to gain yoongi’s trust that you can attain any kind of information he needs in exchange for his presence. the matter of why seokjin is offering a marriage with the 12th prince of aflar was buried by your tip off about baron armwell but it all goes to naught because of one slip of tongue.

out of all the time you could say that foolish king’s name, it had to be when you’re with the duke. the knight who slayed thousands of enemies on his own in the battlefield. yet also the same man who listens to you while you talk with a faint smile.

and perhaps it’s because of that side of him that allows you to find the ease you need to respond, “the house of ___ has never chosen sides and because of that, i grew up learning to give credit where it’s due but criticize what is ordinarily wrong. as for my using his majesty’s name...” you pause, shifting through the possible excuses that could be of use until you find one.

you could tell him that you couldn’t accept seokjin’s rise to the throne so you’ve been using his name when talking about him in private and only now did it slip up. or you could tell him you’ve been head-butting since you were sixteen and him, eighteen.

but a considerable amount of time must have passed while you ponder on your reasons to make yoongi clear his throat, “it seems you too, have your secrets.”

at that, you crane your neck in search for his eyes, only noticing now that you had your head lowered in reluctance.

“raise your head, i’m not going to force you to tell me,” the gruffness of his voice is strained, “and people are watching and i’d rather not have my name slandered by another one of those baseless rumors. grim reaper and beast of war is enough.”

so he knows the versions of him spoken from people’s mouth. without realizing it, you find yourself gazing into a pair of distraught crimson eyes. except this time, they’re glancing around warily and not gazing into the windows of your soul.

“then, yoongi,” when they do capture your gaze, they’re not as terrifying as you found them to be but the idea you’re about to propose is absurdly embarrassing, “since we’re already rumored to be engaged, you should hug me to show that it was just a small quarrel and that we’ve settled it peacefully.”

a dust of pink spreads across the man’s face and ears as you watch his eyes widen in surprise once your suggestion registers. but your own cheeks are not without their own heat.

his arms that band around you are strong yet gentle. it takes you back to the first dance you shared at the palace. he holds you as he did before, like a porcelain doll that would break under the slightest pressure. except this time, there’s no music and the distance between you is nonexistent as you tell yourself that there’s no other way to hug without having your cheek pressed against his chest.

when you return, your mother swings the door open at the clamorous sound of the hooves and horses neighing. yoongi escorts you to the door, dipping into a bow with a hand on his chest in greeting to your mother and in parting to you. neither of you say a word but your face still burns like the sun is blazing inches from you and yoongi still sports a faint shade of pink.

“so? how was it? did you get the most expensive jewel in the store?” the question your mother shoot as she follows you into the hallway is met with a meek, “we didn’t go whitlace.”

unbeknownst to you, after you retreat to your room, your mother and leslie share a smile. though one is of utmost delight, the other is glad that you’re home. it seems you’ve been out for too long.

“did you see that?” your mother quizzes, “they may not have gone to whitlace but something must have happened to make them act bashful and shy to each other when they pretended to be so at ease this morning,” her lips curl at as a thought crosses her mind, “perhaps, they-”

“madam,” leslie smiles, “it’s time for dinner.”

that was a week ago.

“it was just a hug!” you cry out, cheeks warm like the sun that shines over the mansion and pours through the window of your room, “and it was to help him mend his reputation even just by a little, why do i have to get so worked up over it?”

“oh my, i was about to wake you up but it seems you don’t need my help, my lady,” a fluttery voice echoes from next to you.

it takes a moment for you to take in the woman’s unfaltering smile and her round brown eyes. another moment to register that perhaps the reason you couldn’t hear yoongi’s footsteps the first time you met wasn’t because he had inhumane strength but because you’re terrible at noticing your surroundings - because you’re so sure you’ve been awake for ten minutes and if she’d walked in any earlier, the normal thing to do was to announce once’s presence... no?

“leslie!” this time, the cry that escapes your lips is of a different nature. namely a chilling kind of surprise, “when did you get here?”

the woman’s head lulls to the side, searching through her memories. “since thirty minutes ago, i stepped behind the curtains to wipe the window because i didn’t want to open them and disturb your sleep until it’s time for you to wake up.”

“i-i see,” you assert, cheeks hot from the embarrassment of getting caught venting into nothing but the air.

“oh, and congratulations on your engagement with the duke, my lady,” her voice echoes off the walls whilst her body disappears into the closet, “his majesty is terribly kind as to let you throw the engagement party at the palace. or could it has something to do with the fact that it’s his cousin’s engagement?”

nodding mindlessly as you rub the sleepiness from your eyes, “yes, he’s very-” your mouth clamps shut, “wait, what engagement party?”

a letter arrived just this morning bearing the golden crest of the crown. rather than a notice to let the lady who’s getting engaged, know that she may hold the engagement party at the palace - it’s an invitation to said party dated three months from now as if he was hosting his own engagement party. seokjin, that good-for-nothing king. he’s done it this time.

begrudgingly, you trudge towards the carriage you told leslie to have ready by the time you’re done with breakfast.

“good morning,” the coachman shoots you an unsuspecting smile, “to the palace then, my lady?”

his voice echoes from the small window across from you. a compartment that allows you to slide open and make communicating with the coachman easier. it seems your visits to the palace have been so frequent that even the coachman would expect you to head there whenever you’re not out with leslie.

sighing, you internally put a stop to the war waging inside you. if it had been a month ago that’d he’d pull something like this, you would have marched straight to the palace and into his office, demanding him to retract the invitation.

but then, a month ago, you weren’t caught up with the rumor - which you suspected to be spread by seokjin - about marrying the grim reaper of the kingdom.

“no,” with a hand on your throbbing head, you recall the conversation you had with yoongi in his carriage - to consult before one of you acts, “to the duke’s residence.”

“the king has stirred quite a mess,” yoongi asserts. the golden engraving of the same letter lying in your drawer lying on top of the mahogany table he’s at. his office is as big as your room with a wall-sized window behind the table, allowing the rays of sun to pour into the room and cast a halo over him. somehow the sight of his wine red eyes glowing sends a hot shiver down your spine. the urge to hurl yourself away is still present but your shoulder line is at ease and so is your heart.

“i’m sorry,” your head hangs low in, eyes unable to meet his. not after you’d been the sole cause of this, “this is all my fault if only i hadn’t asked you to pretend to be my lover. i’ll go to the royal palace and-”

“___.” yoongi’s voice slices through the otherwise silent room. you can see him stand up and step out of your periphery.

his voice had always been chillingly cool. it’s impossible to tell how he feels. the first time you met him, you thought he would be the kind of man that spoke with swords and listens less to reason but the more you got to know him the more far off your assumption seemed to be.

a man who conceals his emotions and strikes when you least expect it, is a much dangerous adversary.

a pair of polished leather shoes comes to a stop just inches from your knees, the owner’s legs crossed as he leans against the edge of the table, “i can’t let you do such a thing. do you know the law states that a lie told to royalty sends you to lifetime imprisonment?”

the bottom of your lips begin to feel sore from having trapped between your teeth as worry flood your bloodstreams. a whole different riddle all together would be seokjin. just when you thought you have him figured out, he pulls out a wild card that gets you biting your nails while anticipating his next move. yet mortifying as the circumstances has turned, if you were to go back in time in the alley next to the orphanage, you would without a doubt, take the hand that asks for your support.

“i’ll be fine but you won’t,” you meet the steel gaze of the duke’s but instead of feeling like you’ve been stripped naked of your clothes, you see the curious wonder in those eyes. as though his search for the deepest part of your soul has come up tails, “he’s going to use this as a chance to show them that you’re on his side - it’s not a matter of who’s pretending to be whose fiance anymore. the day you step into politics may come but not because of.”

the silence stretches on as his eyes pierces into you when you’d looked up in the heat of the moment.

“if we don’t go, it’ll give the opposing faction a reason to start a riot because it’ll be direct indication of the house of min standing against the crown but...” he states smoothly before trailing off. as though he already knows the workings of politics despite spending a portion of his lifetime on the battlefield.

“since he rose without any noble house’s help - not those publicly known at least - we don’t know which one is the opposing faction.”

“for a king who didn’t receive any education to prepare him for the throne, he’s quite aggressive with his assertion of power.” you can’t help but raise your eyebrows at the complimentary tone that wraps around yoongi’s words.

but you push away the thought of him being one of those unknown households that supported seokjin in the background - if he was seokjin’s ally, it would make better sense if he stayed in cearis instead of joining to war.

“but if we attend,” those red eyes captures yours - it’s no secret what he’s thinking because-

“the house of ___ will be indirectly announcing its support for the king as well.”

judging from the long standing reputation founded upon by your great ancestors, you attending your own engagement party held by seokjin would be equivalent to chopping down the ancient tree of impartiality towards the crown and its fellow nobles. but if you didn’t nip the seeds of war at its bud, there’s no telling what would befall the kingdom if riots begin to break out, orchestrated by a faction with less to lose.

“neither option is favorable. if se- his majesty is dethroned and another puppet king is placed from either one of the factions, it’ll only showcase cearis’ political vulnerability to the whole world and give other nations a reason to wage war against us. not to mention the civil war that might break out beforehand.”

it is a second after you finish, do a sigh leaves yoongi’s mouth. a hard line gracing his lips but his eyes softens with something unfamiliar.

“somehow i hate the fact that i knew you’d decide to choose the peaceful way out even if it meant sacrificing yourself,” a gloved hand slips under yours, thumb grazing your trembling knuckles.

the lips that presses against your skin sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. but more than anything, your heart swells with a sort of emotion you don’t dare speak of - the implications of his words are as clear as your reflection in his eyes.

but i won’t let you hurt yourself in the process.

note. shout out to the realest @fanfuckingfic�� for hyping up this series i lov you b!! also taglisting @mingrasschoi (can’t tag) and @ayujmi!!

#bts smut #bts scenarios #yoongi scenarios #yoongi smut #yoongi fic #bts fic #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #yoongi imagines #bts au #yoongi au #bts yoongi #yoongi

169 notes · View notes

fifteenleads · 3 years ago

Text

like fine wine

Yuukoku no Moriarty | platonic Bondlock friendship | modern AU (AO3)

The wedding was a small affair, open only to family and close friends and select work colleagues. The latter, Sherlock thought with a snort, was unfortunately pretty much a given for social events these days in order to stay in most professional circles’ good graces. Not that John minded all the attention and small talk, plastering on the brightest of smiles as the professors repeatedly asked if he’d let his future kids become doctors, as well. He would considerably brighten up whenever asked about his writing career, though those people were sadly quite few and far between.

Mary seemed to be holding herself pretty well, too, politely shutting down any and all expectations of quitting Neurosurgery to raise a family. After all, nobody had expected the quiet, mild-mannered Dr. Morstan to enter one of the most cutthroat specialty training programs in the hospital, much less take the top spot in her final year, but she had done so quite remarkably, all while meeting and marrying her perfect match in her counterpart from the neighboring Cardiovascular Surgery Department.

Sherlock sometimes wondered how his boring-ass life included being good friends with two of Durham University Hospital’s Golden Children and dating the third one, all in one fell swoop. Beside him, Liam must have easily read the thought that crossed his mind, sparing him a subtle concerned glance while brushing their fingers together under the table. “Later,” he simply mouthed before breaking eye contact to entertain the annoyingly-persistent lady guest that had been hovering around their table for the past hour now.

This was exactly why Sherlock never attended fancy highbrow events, as a rule. He could only manage to sit still and engage in shallow conversations for god-knows-how-long before he’d internally self-combust out of boredom. He couldn’t fathom how Liam could go through all the motions perfectly without breaking a sweat, upper-class upbringing aside, because that and a proper Oxford education had done absolutely nothing whatsoever for Sherlock in that department, much to Mycroft’s and their father’s chagrin.

Being John’s best man right now did help him settle down a little, if anything; certain appearances had to be kept up for the sake of “professional image”, after all, even if his obligatory speech was already over and done with. That one had been well-received as expected, of course, as spontaneous and off-tangent as it may have sounded to sober ears well-trained in criticisms at conferences, but quite a lot of alcohol had already been served and imbibed by that time, so none of that had mattered in the end.

A gentle tap on the shoulder pulled Sherlock out of his thoughts. Behind him, James Bond smirked at him as if catching on to some form of mischief, and that somehow made the evening a whole lot better. “Hey.”

“‘Hey’, yourself, Dr. Holmes.” James took another sip of red wine before setting his half-empty glass on the table beside Sherlock. “I heard from the grapevine that you’ve actually gotten together with someone? Mind sharing the details with an old flame, Sherly dear?”

“It’s not like that, Bond.” Good lord, did the bastard love to get under his skin with that old joke, especially when he draws that nickname out longer than usual. Irene Adler had just been an unexpected friend from many summers ago, despite what everyone else had thought at the time. They had remained in touch even after she had moved back to New Orleans for college and eventually became James Bond. Sherlock wouldn’t exactly call what they had romantic love, not knowing what that even felt like until he met Liam.

That said, James probably already knew about Liam somewhat, and was just testing the reactions he could get from Sherlock this time around, as with every other new discovery he managed to unearth every time they met. “It is, too. My, I’d say you have extremely good taste in lovers, hmm?” He deftly settled himself where Liam had sat and scanned the crowd below. Sherlock didn’t bother following James’ quick eyes anymore, because the hum of amusement that followed just a few moments later answered things. “So, Dr. Moriarty from Nephrology, huh?”

“Not here, dammit!” Sherlock hissed in alarm, swiftly kicking James’ ankle before more could be said. James merely laughed as he swiftly dodged Sherlock’s succeeding kicks, crossing his legs before tucking them under the chair. “Wow. Still can’t take a joke, I see. Does your beau know about this yet, or shall I reveal that during the best man’s speech at your wedding?”

Sherlock quickly did a 360 around him, feeling his own heart rate rise rapidly; whether it was out of fear of people finding out or out of embarrassment at the prospect of marriage, he couldn’t tell yet. Relieved that no one was within earshot, he leveled James with a full-on glare while willing an oncoming bout of vertigo to go away. “John won’t say anything like that.”

“Aww. You wound me, old friend,” James clutched a hand to his chest, full-on pouting as he was wont to do when they were still younger. It somehow managed to look good even without the hair and makeup Sherlock had first come to associate with him back then, which was admittedly quite attractive in its own right, rose-colored lenses or not. This, now, wasn’t quite bad, too, despite his own ego coming under friendly fire for it.

James really was a special existence of his own, no matter what anyone said, and Sherlock would be the first to raise a toast to that. He kept that thought to himself for now, propping a hand under his chin in amusement as James withdrew in confusion at the sudden attention. “W-What now, Sherly?”

“Just admiring the view,” he answered nonchalantly, his gaze directed a little further behind as Liam approached their table once more, still looking immaculately regal as ever. James whipped his head around to follow Sherlock’s gaze, before breaking into an excited smile. “Over here, Will!”

“Hello, Mr. Bond. It has been quite a while.” Liam’s eyes flitted over to meet Sherlock’s, his delicate features softening at the other's smile and the unspoken assurance that yes, things were quite all right. The two quickly delved into a conversation of their own after that, and Sherlock looked on contentedly from the side while taking a sip from his own glass, appreciating the fine wine for what it was. Maybe attending parties like this once in a while wasn’t so bad, after all.

Cardiorenal Syndrome and Other Stories

#yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot #sherlock holmes #james bond #modern AU #friendship study #character study #people watching #crs etc

6 notes · View notes

marvella15 · 4 years ago

Text

Astaire & Rogers Rewatch Part 10: The Barkleys of Broadway

• So here’s the story. Fred Astaire tried to retire. He’d been performing his entire life and he was ready to finally retire. In 1946, he did Blue Skies, which was meant to be his farewell picture. Then two years went by. Meanwhile, Gene Kelly was on the rise. He was booked to do a film with Judy Garland. Then he broke his ankle.

Kelly was extremely competitive and he and his wife often hosted volleyball games at their house. He either broke his ankle while playing or, as one story goes, he was so mad at having lost, he stamped his foot on the doorstep and injured himself.

• Kelly couldn’t do Easter Parade with Garland. So he called up Astaire and basically was like, please help me. Astaire agreed and had such a fabulous time with Garland and the film was such a success that the studio immediately wanted to pair them up again. But then, Garland’s health precluded her from doing The Barkleys of Broadway.

• So Astaire called up Ginger Rogers and said, hey how about we reunite for the first time on screen in ten years? And although she’d essentially stopped doing musicals at all, she agreed. And so we have The Barkleys of Broadway as the final Astaire/Rogers film and their only one in color.

• Our characters/actor: Josh Barkley (Fred Astaire), Dinah Barkley (Ginger Rogers), Ezra Miller (Oscar Levant), Jacques Barredout (Jacques François)

• Right off the bat, this movie makes a dumb decision. They put the credits over Astaire and Rogers dancing. (You can see this routine minus the credits as part of That’s Entertainment 3.)

• One of the critiques of this film is that Rogers was no longer the lithe young dancer from her and Astaire’s heyday. And to that I say: shut up. Heaven forbid she have, quite frankly, a healthier and stronger look to her than she did ten years prior when she was working herself to the bone and routinely losing 10-15 pounds from all of the dancing. I support her healthier look, lifestyle, and the ice cream she was surely enjoying from her custom home bar.

• The main tension of the story is that Josh is essentially credited with all of Dinah’s success because he “made her what she was.” This was a real-life argument reporters of the day made about the Astaire/Rogers partnership, casting her as the brainless actress whom Astaire molded into the perfect dance partner. Which is incorrect in every sense, as we’ve seen in these past nine films.

The bickering between the Barkleys is also likely poking fun at another frequent and false report about Astaire and Rogers, which is that they hated each other and regularly fought while making their films. They had their squabbles, of course, such as the feather dress affair, but from all first-hand accounts, they got along extremely well and spent most of their time during rehearsal and filming having an incredible amount of fun.

• I adore how they cuddle up in the car. There’s so little physical affection in Astaire/Rogers films outside of the dancing that every moment of it feels like a treat. It’s slightly ruined by a rough cut, which includes the magical appearance of a lit cigarette in Josh’s hand.

• Josh doesn’t fight fair at all. While Dinah insists on knowing what “detail” wasn’t perfect in the show, Josh doesn’t allow her to respond to his criticism. So she’s left simply to stew in anger and hurt feelings.

He does apologize to her soon after and they seem to make up. But as we know, the same issues will resurface again and again for them because if you don’t ever have a fair, honest conversation about your problems, they don’t ever go away.

• I have to point out how Astaire looks at her adoringly after Josh’s apology. I also love the way she hooks her fingers into the lapels of his suit. It’s a small gesture of affection only borne out of being comfortable with someone. I’d be surprised to learn that action was in the script.

• See, when you don’t have an actual conversation with your partner you end up freezing and starving out on the balcony at a party while a snobby, elitist playwright gives them the attention and thoughtful feedback they crave.

• Oscar Levant always plays a version of himself in every film and he does a great job of it. When you can play piano that well, there’s no need to do a lot of heavy lifting in your acting.

• Astaire and Rogers do a really fabulous job of portraying a married couple famous for their dancing but who are also major drama queens. For example, this line from Josh, “What with walking pneumonia and concussion a fine performance I’ll give tomorrow night.”

• Some light domestic violence humor here in 1949. 😒

• Dinah hums in pleasure after Josh surprises her with a kiss and I just can’t say for sure whether that’s acting or not…

• "You'd Be Hard to Replace" is another lovely song that I really enjoy hearing Astaire sing. I also really like how Rogers caresses his elbow when they hold each other’s arms. When he wraps her in his arms from behind, their hands knead one another’s.

They kiss again at the end of this song. There are so, so many kisses in this movie.

• "Bouncin' the Blues" is a great tap number and they both look excellent in it. The only thing that I find a tad grating is Astaire’s exclamations, which seem too manufactured (maybe because some of them are dubbed in?). Far better is the moment when they reach out to link hands and both look like they’re having a blast. For that instant, there’s a hint of that special Astaire/Rogers magic.

• The artwork in tribute to Josh and Dinah is atrocious, misogynistic, and rude. The artist calls her a ball of shapeless dough only formed into being by her husband, the frying pan.

• "My One and Only Highland Fling" is… an interesting choice. Was anyone looking for Astaire and Rogers to sing in Scottish accents or dance in kilts?? The kisses on the cheek are cute though and so is their interaction after the number in their dressing room.

• They look pretty fab while playing tennis during their weekend in the country. When they make plans to meet up for dinner, they say goodbye with kisses on the cheek. To me, those natural moments between them are the best parts of the movie.

• Omg I totally forgot about the part where Dinah pretends to be faint so Josh sends Ezra to bring her some brandy and Ezra returns with the ENTIRE drink tray with four massive bottles and glasses hahahaha

• Not to be outdone, Dinah hurriedly correcting Josh when he thinks she’s faint because she’s pregnant is also hilarious.

• Dinah does the worst possible job hiding her script from Josh. He’s angry for a lot of reasons but the note from Jacques, which implies an ongoing secret relationship between him and Dinah, is what really ticks Josh off.

• "Shoes with Wings On" is another example of Astaire’s continued interest in special effects. Green screen technology was used to make the shoes appear to dance on their own. The finished product was one of Astaire’s enduring creations and probably what The Barkleys of Broadway is best known for outside of being a reunion picture for Astaire and Rogers. He does a convincing job of making it seem as though his shoes are dancing despite his own ability or effort.

• Unsurprisingly, Jacques is revealed to be an even bigger pompous dick as a director than he’s been on social occasions. It’s also even more glaringly obvious that his intention the whole time has not been solely to nurture Dinah’s dramatic career but to steal her away from her husband.

• It was Rogers’ idea to have them dance to "They Can't Take That Away From Me" rather than a new original piece. Astaire didn’t like repeating himself, and that included songs from previous films, but he made an exception. It’s a nice dance and is certainly the closest thing this film has to offer of the OG Astaire and Rogers duets. But as I said in my Shall We Dance rewatch, it’s just not the same as if they’d danced to this song the first time around.

The use of the song made sense since Ira Gershwin was the lyricist for The Barkleys of Broadway.

• Considering it’s 1949, Dinah does a remarkable job of standing up for herself and getting to the root of the couple’s issues. He’s been taking her for granted and stifling her own creative interests and she’s been smothering her frustrations as best she can but they hit the breaking point. Something needs to change or their relationship can’t continue. But that doesn’t mean she’s happy about it.

• Dinah’s terrible acting in the play had to HAD TO be intentional on someone’s part but I can’t for the life of me think who or why.

• Love and support are what we all want from our partners. Dinah is still in love with Josh but it’s only once she knows that Josh has been helping her despite the fact that she ended their relationship and it didn’t benefit him at all that she goes back to him. Though, she does also take a bit of pleasure in making him agonize a little while.

I like the little whistle she does upon entering their apartment. It must be something they did to alert the other they’d come home. Wish we’d gotten to see it some other time in the movie.

• The truth is, Dinah and Josh enjoy being dramatic together and I get that. When you’re with the right person, it’s fun to play around.

• "Manhattan Down Beat" is wasted as an ending song. It could’ve been a good lively number, perhaps instead of "My One and Only Highland Fling.” I’d say that Astaire was just trying to avoid being in a top hat and tails more than necessary but he also reportedly hated being in silly costumes like the Scottish getup so 🤷‍♀️

• And that’s how the greatest on-screen dancing partnership ends. The Barkleys of Broadway is a more interesting and somewhat better film than The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle so it functions as a better finale for Astaire and Rogers. While their dancing isn’t quite the same, the chemistry between them is still very evident, which speaks to their enduring personal relationship. But that probably deserves its own post, which is what I’ll do next and how I’ll end this rewatch.

#fred astaire #ginger rogers #the barkleys of broadway #classic hollywood #old hollywood #astaire and rogers rewatch

22 notes · View notes

rvmmm21 · 5 years ago

Text

. playing dead .

summary : puppy is teething, and in big trouble. so... nothing new, then.

note : have some biscuits while rvmmm21 struggles with a few prompts and non-prompts. some fluff i wrote a while ago but i guess it can’t hurt to put em up here, ay. hybrid stuff is always fun. and this is like a sub-series of hybrid wendy and vampire irene from come here, little puppy.

[wenrene - vampire!irene x jindo!wendy]

...

The day began with Joohyun discovering a small, frayed hole in Seungwan’s pillowcase. And then in hers, and then in just about every fabric she had laying around. Swiftly stripping the pillow, the exasperated vampiress strode out to track down the little criminal, gently kicking away chew toys and raw hide, untouched as the day they’d been bought.

“Seung – Wan.”

She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t have to. Those two syllables alone were enough to get her point across.

Seungwan was to come to her name, and she was to do it, now.

Little squeaks were coming from behind the sofa.

Oh gosh, Seungwan cringed at that double emphasis of doom. If only those paws could dig through concrete, she’d be tunnelling her way to Seulgi’s house by now. Seulgi wouldn’t mind holes in her sofa… she’d love them, probably!

Unlike mummy… so fussy.

She had to think fast, she could already hear Joohyun pretending not to know where she was.

Okay, options? Dash, or play dead. Hm, the first one, however tempting, she knew from her own bible of failed attempts that Joohyun was just going to add another goddamned page to it. The latter, far more suitable, Seungwan thought. She was a little actress and although Joohyun was somehow able to see right through that insane talent every time, she took it as constructive criticism. Joohyun became her sort of Ebert, and she just took it upon herself to do better for next time. Perhaps she’d put on such a good show that Joohyun, completely mind blown, would forget to be mad at her altogether.

Plus… ‘dead’ puppies don’t get time-outs, do they? Puppies trying to outrun their mummies wrath for their annoying teething habits very much do, however.

And Seungwan’d be damned if she let that happen the fifth time this week.

So all in all, dash? Get caught. Play dead? Most probably get caught.

She’d take whatever chance she could get, please and thank you.

So when a very suspecting Joohyun, only having to follow the trail of mildly destroyed surfaces, rounded the noticeably frayed corner of the sofa, she had to swallow a laugh. From screwed shut eyes, to tongue pointedly sticking out the corner of her mouth… and of course limbs splayed out haphazardly, Joohyun was looking at the dictionary definition of dead. Save for the nervous, laboured panting, Seungwan was dead, and only a monster could still be angry after that.

A resigned sigh and head shake later, the vampiress was crouched down beside her poor, unfortunate puppy.

“Oh no, Wannie-ahhhh…” she drew out the pet name, sounding extra teary, “mummy’s too upset to be mad anymore… if only there was a way to bring you back, I’d never punish you again.”

She rolled her eyes when Seungwan’s lip curled upwards in an almost unnoticeable smile. She’d taken the bait and Joohyun was prodding on.

“Mhm, no more time-outs for Seungwannie and extra treats before bedtime.”

Joohyun’s attention snapped down to the slightest friction on her foot, caused by a quivering little tail, clearly excited at the whole ‘extra treats before bed’ proposal. Gosh, Seungwan really did have the sorriest sense of self-control. It was adorable. As adorable as she was gullible.

“Oh?” she exclaimed, already snaking a hand up under Seungwan’s fleecy jumper, “what’s this? Dead puppies can’t wag their tails!”

Fingers began lightly spidering all over Seungwan’s tummy, tickling her back to life. Tiny, broken whimpers escaped her and her leg involuntarily started twitching at the increasingly overwhelming sensation, but she still worked hard as ever to keep up the façade.

“Oh my gosh, Wannie! Is it working? Are you alive?”

Light tickles turned into gentle, albeit relentless belly scritches, Joohyun knowing exactly which spots to hit.

And there it happened; Seungwan, the ever brilliant actress, broke character, eyes shooting open and desperately trying to pry Joohyun’s hands away from her, giggling the entire time. But Joohyun was having none of that. She wouldn’t stop until she was sure her pup was alive and kicking, literally; it was the least she could do. This was a lot more fun than time-out, even Joohyun had to admit.

She had Seungwan fully relaxed in no time, leg twitching helplessly under her as she gave in, fingers now curled around Joohyun’s wrist in attempt to keep it there while she simmered in the delightful feeling.

But she wasn’t out of the woods just yet, and Joohyun pulled away softly, causing an uncomfortable shift as Seungwan recognised all too well what was being dangled in front of her.

“Seungwan…”

Her tone was firm, scolding.

Realising there was nowhere left to go from here, Seungwan gingerly peered forward, taking sorry little sniffs at her handiwork, before glancing back up at Joohyun, eyes watery and full of remorse.

Joohyun had an eyebrow cocked, waiting for the appropriate response.

Seungwan meekly ducked her head, chocolate ears deflating.

“Wah… Wannie sowi mummy… woh-won’t do gain…”

Joohyun’s gaze softened. How could she stay mad at that? She pursed her lips and looked at the material bunched in her fist, then at the little girl staring hard at the floor.

“Come, Wannie,” she sat cross-legged, patting her lap, “it’s okay.”

An ear perked up at the affection in that voice.

Seungwan nuzzled up into Joohyun’s font, nose pressed against her collarbone as she breathed in her scent. Her eyes fluttered closed when she felt the pad of a thumb stroke soft lines down her ear, feeling tingly and warm again. As ‘angry’ as Joohyun had been, she knew it wasn’t Seungwan’s fault (to a certain extent). She was fully responsible when it came to Joohyun having to cover the cost of all the damage, but the little puppy was teething and all she wanted to do was relieve the constant burn in her gums. Joohyun quite frankly couldn’t wait for the time when she wouldn’t be nipped at during random hours of the day, as tolerant as she was.

But when she tried to adjust her grip on Seungwan, she lifted an arm up, only to see a very familiar set of gnashers come with, buried into the hem of her sleeve, a pair of happy, utterly blameless eyes looking up at into her own.

“Seungwan-ah.”

#red velvet #fluff #red velvet fluff #wenrene #wendy #irene #hybrid au #hybrid wendy #kpop scenarios #girl group scenarios

46 notes · View notes

mexcine · 4 years ago

Photo

I’m All Right Jack (1959) review: I’m All Right Jack was reportedly the most popular British film of the year of its release, and has maintained its critical reputation in the decades since. While I found it interesting and entertaining, I was slightly underwhelmed by the film, largely due to several structural aspects of the film’s narrative.

The basic plot: Stanley Windrush, an Oxford graduate and a former serviceman, is the “poor relation” of a wealthy family and decides to “enter business” as a management trainee. However, he’s naïve, clumsy and outspoken, and is repeatedly rejected by various companies. Finally, his uncle Tracepursel suggests Stanley seek employment at Missiles Ltd. (a company Tracepursel owns), but as an ordinary worker. Stanley innocently clashes with the plant’s unions, but head steward Fred Kite (who has pretensions to be an intellectual analyst of the capitalist system) offers to rent Stanley a room in his own house and educate him in the ways of the working class. Spotting Kite’s sexy daughter Cynthia (who also works at the plant), Stanley accepts the offer of lodging. [This has little or no bearing on the plot, as Stanley and Kite have almost no interaction after this; and as noted below, even Stanley’s romance with Cynthia is jettisoned at the conclusion.]

Meanwhile, unbeknowst to Stanley, Tracepursel is conspiring with Sidney De Vere Cox to have Missiles Ltd. default on a contract to supply arms to a Middle Eastern nation so that Cox’s company can take over the contract (at a higher price, which they’ll split amongst themselves and buyer’s agent Mr. Mohamed). When Stanley unknowingly cooperates with a “time-and-motion” study man and reveals that Missile Ltd’s employees could work much harder, Kite calls a strike. This soon spreads across the nation, including to Cox’s company, so the scheme has worked too well. Tracepursel urges plant manager Major Hitchcock to negotiate with Kite to end the strike; since Stanley’s removal is a condition for a resolution, Cox tries to bribe Stanley with a bag of cash to “resign for reasons of health.” During a television broadcast about the strike, Stanley denounces both sides of the dispute as corrupt, and tosses the money into the air, which provokes a brawl among the studio audience. Stanley is arrested for his actions, chastised, and put on probation for a year. As the film concludes, he’s living at a nudist colony with his aged father.

One of the main flaws of I’m All Right Jack is that the film changes focus throughout—it’s not necessarily a case of an “ensemble cast,” the film almost literally switches back and forth between protagonists. Stanley Windrush seems to be the protagonist, but at a certain point—when Missiles Ltd. goes on strike—he almost literally vanishes from the screen for an extended period of time, and is replaced in the spotlight by union steward Fred Kite. There are also extended sequences focusing on Sidney De Vere Cox and Mr. Mohamed, with lesser footage (more traditional use of supporting characters) allotted to Tracepursel and Major Hitchcock, while Aunt Dolly appears only briefly and without much effect on the plot. A more traditional film would have centered on Windrush throughout, but his disappearance for much of the middle section of the picture makes the conclusion feel forced. I’m All Right Jack has a curious, “unhappy ending”—Stanley is reprimanded in court, and is last seen being pursued by amorous female tennis players at a nudist resort, his relationship with Cynthia Kite apparently terminated (she’s last seen, weeping, while Stanley is being dressed down by the judge, suggesting she still cares for Stanley).

Additionally, I’m All Right Jack has a needlessly complex and somewhat illogical plot. As noted above, Tracepursel and Cox’s scheme to have Missiles Ltd. default on an arms contract so Cox can take over the contract (at a higher price that will allow for kickbacks to those involved). Apparently as part of this plot, Tracepursel has his ineffectual nephew Stanley Windrush hired by Missiles Ltd. As it develops, Stanley’s naïveté results in a massive strike that shuts down Missiles Ltd. (but then spreads to Cox’s company and in fact nation-wide), but this was not something Tracepursel could have anticipated. He gives Stanley no instructions or advice, and it’s only purest luck that Stanley’s actions cause a strike--he’s by no means an agent provocateur (despite Kite’s accusation of him being exactly that) even unwittingly. He just clueless. Any number of alternate outcomes could have occurred as a result of his hiring.

There is some confusion about the film’s setting: it seems to be contemporary to 1959 when it was produced (the most notable auto in the film is Stanley’s tiny, 3-wheel 1958 Heinkel Kabine), but this would mean Stanley—who served in WWII in Private’s Progress (1956), which features the characters of Stanley, Major Hitchcock, Tracepursel, and Cox—is still unemployed nearly 15 years after the war is over, and is probably pushing 40 (in real life, Ian Carmichael was born in 1920 and did serve in WWII), which seems out of character. The narrator [E.V.H. Emmett, well-known in the UK as a newsreel narrator] specifically says “Industry! With tremendous opportunities for the young man…”

This is not to suggest I’m All Right Jack is a bad film—it’s amusing and well-acted, and contains a significant number of interesting ideas. Barbs are tossed at unions, management, the government, political parties, advertising (detergent Detto and snack bar Num-Yums, both with obnoxious jingles), and so on. Unionism is attacked mercilessly: Missiles Ltd. has 2 unions, so if one is granted higher wages, the other can request an increase in pay, and then the first one has its turn again, etc. Stanley stumbles across a group of men who play cards all day in a hidden spot (they can’t be fired but have no work to do), the unions resist cooperating with time-and-motion studies and reportedly assaulted a previous investigator, and so on. While management and ownership is also depicted as corrupt and/or inept, this could be explained away by labeling Tracepursel and Cox as anomalies. Working-class opinion presumably supports the principles of the strike (although the most prominent union members shown are Kite’s toadies, and his own wife is certainly not on his side, as she leaves him!), large crowds—whose placards identify them as the “Housewives League” and “Empire Loyalists”--are shown applauding Stanley’s actions (“Three cheers for Mr. Churchill and Stanley Windrush!”) as they sing “Land of Hope and Glory.” The conservative “Daily Express” newspaper headline reads “Salute Stanley Windrush,” while the Labour-oriented tabloid “Daily Mirror” has a large photo of Stanley and Cynthia (emphasizing her bust) and the clever “Stanley Strikes Lucky” headline (referring to his romance with Cynthia). Tracepursel says Stanley has the press on his side--some papers for ideological reasons, but others apparently only interested in gossip.

The political content of I’m All Right Jack is mild and even-handed (basically, a plague on both houses). Curiously, Ian Carmichael also appeared in Left Right and Centre in 1959, a film that’s focused more specifically on politics and while it’s still balanced in its depiction of the political parties in the UK—the protagonists are more or less evenly split between Conservative and Labour—it points out the differences between them more clearly than I’m All Right Jack.

Trivia note: I was mildly shocked to see some nudity in I’m All Right Jack, in the opening and closing nudist camp scenes. It’s bare rear-only nudity (and only of women), shown from a distance and in a non-sexual manner, but it was surprising nonetheless.

I’m All Right Jack is well-made and has a strong cast. The comedy is mostly subtle and character-based: the chief exception to this is Stanley’s slapstick tour of the Num-Yum factory, in which he’s repeatedly urged to sample the product and finally ends up vomiting into a mixing machine. The film briefly pokes fun at advertising (the “Detto” detergent and “Num-Yum” billboards and musical jingles) but drops this rather abruptly. Not all of the verbal and character humour works—one of Kite’s union cronies stutters, and the “joke” is that you think he’s going to say a profane word based on the first letter but he doesn’t (“F-f-f-f…friend”).

Ian Carmichael was somewhat typecast as a well-meaning but naïve and bumbling member of the upper class, and he is reasonably effective here. Peter Sellers’ Fred Kite is a much more complex character, mispronouncing large words, lauding the Soviet Union, reminiscing fondly about the “very good toast and preserves they give you at tea time” at Oxford (where he attended a summer session in 1946). When his wife (well-played by Irene Handl) and daughter Cynthia (Liz Fraser, also good) leave him, Fred’s home life goes to blazes (sink full of unwashed dishes, etc.) and he gains additional audience sympathy (although he isn’t a really unsympathetic character earlier, just a self-important and overly enthusiastic labour union representative). Dennis Price, Terry-Thomas, Richard Attenborough, and Margaret Rutherford have clearly-defined supporting roles and play them straight. Further down in the cast in very minor roles are Esma Cannon, Wally Patch, and John Van Eyssen (who appeared as Jonathan Harker in Horror of Dracula, 1958, if you’re wondering why he looks familiar).

I’m All Right Jack is a fine, entertaining film but perhaps slightly over-rated in terms of its overall importance. Still, recommended.

#British comedy #british cinema #comedy film #Unions

3 notes · View notes

lynenspray · 5 years ago

Text

wenrene 03

prompt: hey can u create a wr smut g!pirene is come kind of scientist doing some research about sex and pleasure on wendy?

fic length warning: 4.7k words

---

i wanna study every inch of you

(wenrene gp!irene slight bdsm)

"a-are you sure about this, sonsaengnim?" wendy's eyes were glued to her superior who was cuffing her wrists to the posts. both of them were still fully clothed, her in a medical gown and irene in her work outfit sans lab coat, though that was going to change soon.

irene paused her ministrations above her before staring her down with her steel gaze, one delicate eyebrow raised. "I thought you understood the situation we're in."

wendy closed her eyes as the cuffs clicked and irene moved away. "well, yes… but--"

"we can always stop. I'll get someone else."

wendy bit her lip and held back tears at the cold attitude. she had to be a good hubae. this matter was too delicate and needed critically thought-out observations made by both the researcher and the test subject; this left irene, head of their research division, and wendy, her most promising assistant, to be the ones to do it.

it was no question who would be tested between them. she pulled on the binds wrapped around her limbs when she shifted.

"I'm sorry, sunbaenim. I understand. please use me as you see fit."

irene ignored her and shrugged on a lab coat, carrying a tray with her as she settled between wendy's legs. on the metal tray were vibrators and clamps of different sizes, as well as a bottle of lube; all pleasure-inducing devices.

wendy gulped as irene put on some latex gloves, apparently ready to start.

"then let's begin phase one. clothes on, no sensory deprivation, no devices."

the assistant nodded, clenching her fists.

"keep your eyes open and react in whatever way comes naturally. tell me if it feels good, and I'll take note."

wendy watched irene place her hands on her hips, slowly caressing her stomach and sides with her fingers, pressing down with steady pressure. that…

"ah, it tickles."

irene stared at her. "how does it feel?"

"um," wendy bit her lip, trying to think of how to describe it. "it doesn't feel bad. just--unusual. sort of uncomfortable."

the scientist nodded her head. then she massaged wendy's middle with her palms, hands pressing heavily. "what about this?"

this… "it feels alright."

irene glared, and wendy's mouth clicked shut. she displeased her mentor again.

"I'm sorry, I meant…" what did she mean? it didn't tickle, but it also didn't feel good. "it doesn't feel much like anything. just hands on me."

the raven haired woman nodded again, silent, and then dragged her palms up, avoiding wendy's breasts and pressing on her armpits with her knuckles.

that made wendy buck a hip, gasping. "that feels--" it felt similar to what irene had been doing earlier, like being tickled and being massaged combined to create a feeling that made her heart beat faster. "it feels good." wendy felt a little breathless at the sensation.

the older woman's hands were still hidden beneath latex gloves and wendy's underarms were still a bit covered by her medical gown, but it felt good.

"anything else to take note of?"

wendy bit her lip as she felt her center pulse, releasing some of that wetness that came with being pleasantly stimulated. "I…" she trailed off, feeling her face flush in embarrassment. “I feel aroused.”

“are you wet?”

the assistant closed her eyes and nodded, trying to breathe steadily as irene kept her knuckles rolling circles into her underarms. then the older woman let her touches linger as she dragged her fingers across the expanse of wendy’s chest, circling her breasts, making her gasp and even more titillated, feeling more fluid drip out of her heat. “ah, that feels really really good," wendy sighed, mouth slightly ajar.

“keep your eyes open.” irene lifted her hands and wendy whined from the loss of pressure, following the scientist’s command and keeping her eyes glued to her once more. “again,” irene said, bringing her hands over wendy’s breasts and massaging them properly now, kneading them, making the younger woman grunt out a cry and grit her teeth.

she stared up at the ceiling, not wanting to look at her mentor, not wanting to know what the older woman thought at how easily wendy turned into putty from her touch, not wanting to let irene see her blush reaching the tip of her ears.

the scratch of the medical gown on her hardened nipples made her suck in a breath, and the way irene pinched them had her gasping, wanting it harder, wanting it closer. wendy wasn’t wearing anything underneath the gown, so whatever juices she’d had gushed out were trailing between her crack and wetting the bed. it felt good. really good. and then it stopped.

wendy groaned as she tugged on the cuffs around her ankles, pulling at them so she could start feeling something again--anything--even pain.

“stop that.” irene’s voice was deep and her hand was heavy when she held wendy down, causing the younger woman to whimper. "only I can stimulate you."

"yes, sonsaengnim," she muttered.

"good." irene pulled off her gloves and then untied wendy's gown, removing it completely, leaving her naked under the bright lights. soft, pale flesh was laid bare in front of the older woman, and wendy felt her face heat up. embarrassingly, she felt even more slick slip out of her.

"I," wendy choked, knowing her blush was reaching her collarbone, spreading to her chest.

"what?" irene asked, eyes imploring, tone demanding.

the younger woman whimpered at the tone, finding that even irene's voice was enough to kindle and stroke the fire in her belly, at the center of her heat. oh god, this was almost too much. how was wendy supposed to give an accurate assessment?

"I'm. um." she avoided irene's gaze, pulling on her binds as if her limbs could hide her. "I'm wet," she whispered.

irene shifted, out of her line of sight, then asked, "from what? I'm not touching you."

"it's… just being naked, in front of you." that's what turned wendy on--offering her body up to someone else, someone who held such power over her even and especially outside this situation..

"you're aroused from being exposed?"

"and uh," wendy turned to look at her now, still shy but wanting to be honest. she wanted the experiment to be at least marginally successful, after all. "I'm aroused by your voice. it's very deep and… husky."

irene raised an eyebrow, and, if wendy could trust her eyes, had a little lopsided smirk on her. "I'll take note of that," she replied, voice even lower and making wendy bite her lip, almost whining herself. "we'll proceed to phase two. no sensory deprivation, clothes off."

wendy threw her head back when irene ghosted fingers over the insides of her thighs, gushing out her wetness, holding back a whimper. god, god, that felt-- "ah, oh my god, sunbaenim, t-that feels really really good," she gasped, trying not to breathe too heavily, trying not to lose focus.

the older woman trailed her hands up and down her legs, dragging fingernails down from the insoles of wendy's feet and bringing them up to the skin right beside where the younger wanted irene the most. fuck. fuck.

"fuck, sunbaenim. don't stop," wendy cried as irene brought her hands even higher, barely brushing against her peaks, all the way until her wrists and her fingers, irene hovering over her, tickling her skin with her hair, watching her.

the sheets beneath wendy were stained with her juices now. she could cum from this alone, if only irene would touch her properly, not just stare at her with her lopsided smirk, not just ghost the tips of her fingers over her arms, her armpits, her nipples before avoiding her pussy then scratching at her thighs, marking her until her ankles before tickling her feet. fuck. fuck.

"sunbaenim," wendy hissed, unsure what she wanted, mindlessly bucking her hips into empty air, feeling her eyes glaze over from the pleasure. "please, please, please."

irene immediately stopped, making wendy's back arc and she tried to chase after the phantom fingers. no! "ah, nooooo," she whined, scrunching her eyes shut.

the older woman stepped away as wendy tried to catch her breath, thinking of nothing else now besides irene's sinful fingertips and that smug smile. god, she was doing this on purpose, but wendy liked it, she wanted more of it: her tied up and at the mercy of someone else.

"since you keep closing your eyes I guess that means we should move on to phase three."

wendy opened her eyes just to have them involuntarily shut again when irene pulled an eye ask over her, blinding her for now.

"be vocal, tell me how it feels."

the younger woman keened when the cold fingers were on her again. with her sight blocked, it was almost like it was twice as pleasurable. she felt herself get wet even more quickly, slick all over now from her sweat, feeling her hair stick around her face, opening her mouth to let out loud moans.

"that's it." irene's voice felt both farther away and closer at the same time, wendy unsure of where the older woman was, instead feeling her presence surrounding her, trapping her. "let me hear you."

irene rolled a nipple between her fingers before pinching it, her other hand still tickling the area around wendy's cunt, never touching her, only teasing her. "fuck!" wendy cursed, bucking her hips and latching on nothing at all. "touch me, please, touch me. I can't take it anymore." then the fingers were gone, and wendy felt a cry slip out of her lips.

"are you approaching climax?"

wendy shook her head. no, no, not yet. she needed more stimulation. "I need more," she gasped out. "this isn't enough to take me there."

she only got silence in response, and then irene's weight between her legs disappeared. there was some shuffling, wendy knew that much, but she could only hear so much through the pressure her body was under, on the edge and yet not quite there. the weight of another body returned, but something was different, as if the air around irene was still and warmer. wendy gulped. what did she do?

"sunbaenim?"

she heard irene's breath hitch. "I'm here. we're still in phase three. how do you feel?"

hot. impossibly tight, like something under her skin was trying to burn its way through. also, incredibly wet. "fine," she said instead.

"just fine?" there was a teasing lilt to irene's voice, causing wendy to blush again.

it was so embarrassing having to say it out loud, but she had to be a good g--assistant. she had to do her best. "I'm feeling a little hot."

"you want to cum?"

goosebumps emerged all over wendy's skin, all from irene's voice, all from her words. yes, yes, yes. "I do."

"should we go for phase four?"

wendy recalled the next phase. sight deprivation, clothes off, devices introduced. no. no, she wanted to go straight to the main event.

"no. I won't last if we take that long."

irene hummed, obviously considering wendy's input. it would be the younger girl who knew best where she was at, whether she'd climax sooner or later, whether it would be enjoyable or possibly painful, and if she wanted it either way. wendy knew the last say was going to come from her, and rightfully so.

"then what do we do?"

wendy gasped when she felt the head of irene's dick rub on her clit, shaking in place as she tried to open her legs wider, wrap them around irene, pull her in or something. she didn't need toys, she wanted that hot cock in her.

"phase five, please, please un--uh, sunbaenim," wendy whined, struggling as she pulled on her cuffs, knowing that she'd find marks around her wrists later. "fuck me with your cock, make me cum," she begged.

irene's dick kept rubbing against her, teasing her folds, stimulating her clit. she was almost there--but she didn't want to come from this, even if it was dizzying from how pleasurable it was. she needed it inside her.

"inside, inside, please. no toys, just you, fuck," wendy whined when a particular motion caused the entirety of irene's length to rub against her. she felt so pent up, ready to release it all, if only irene would just--

"we'll have to up the ante some other way. we know that having my dick in you will make you cum, obviously."

a sob tore through wendy when irene stopped her ministrations, knocking wendy back down a few steps just as she was climbing to her peak. she gasped and grunted as irene's weight left the bed again, feeling her sweat trickle from her forehead, her breaths turn desperate, her pussy pulse. god, if irene just gave her a little bit, she'd be a goner. that was all she wanted.

"you want that?"

yes, yes, god, she was so ready. she felt the bed shift as irene's weight transferred to the spot above her head, between her arms. she couldn't touch her, but she felt the older woman's heat near her, just out of reach.

wendy felt hands tuck her hair behind her ears before earphones were placed in them, cancelling whatever noise she had been able to hear and replacing it with music she was unfamiliar with. it was a little loud, but she figured that was the point. her hearing was being cut off.

then, miraculously, she felt irene hold her chin and open her mouth before introducing the tip of her cock, her balls over her nose, and wendy groaned, letting her tongue out, wetting the tip as much as she could.

she could taste her lingering musk on irene's skin, mixing their scents, mixing their fluids. she wanted even more, gulp irene down, gobble her up, suck her in until all of her was safely tucked inside wendy's orifice.

wendy knew that the slurping noises she was making were obnoxious but she was unable to hear them, and therefore unable to be embarrassed about them. the lack of sight made her response to touch double, but the lack of hearing made her lose her self consciousness, she could be as loud as she wanted now.

when the volume turned higher, she figured that that was irene's signal for her to make even more noise, so she did: she moaned around irene's cock as the older woman started rubbing against her open lips, never going in, and slapping wendy's tongue with her shaft. she groaned and let her teeth nip at irene's skin ever so slightly, adding to the friction. she sobbed when irene still refused to enter her.

then she felt a finger on her chin again, opening her mouth wider, before the length of irene's half erect member entered her waiting hole. she slurped and sucked as much as she could, drool dripping past her lips, nosing irene's balls, moaning and groaning around her shaft. irene was warm, a little salty, but delicious. she tilted her head back, letting irene enter her in her entirety, and sucked harder.

fuck. fuck. she tasted so fucking good. and her girth, god, it filled up wendy in every way she wished, her texture, her smell. wendy wanted to eat her up, and irene was letting her. she felt like she was about to burst, tethered to reality by only irene's length abusing her mouth, irene's hand on her chin, keeping her open. irene. irene. irene.

before she knew it, irene pulled out. wendy gasped at the loss, trying not to cry but feeling her tears spill despite her protest. fuck the test, fuck everything else. irene, fuck me. she didn't just want that hot cock in her cunt, she needed it. she was open and ready for her, irene just had to take that step, twist this thing on its head, use her.

"sunbaenim!" wendy cried out, barely hearing her voice over the music playing in her ears. "please fuck me, please, oh my god, I need you in me. I can't take it, I'm going crazy, please, god, please," she begged, almost choking on her own sobs. "irene!"

wendy's cries were stopped by a slap against her cheek. her breath hitched, not expecting the pain, but felt its effect nonetheless. had they moved on to the next phase? wait, what phase were they even in on, now? she'd lost count.

"irene…?"

another slap, this time against her other cheek. wendy gasped in shock; the sting was surprising, but it didn't hurt too much. in fact it was almost… arousing. she had to tell her somehow. so she did.

"again, please."

this time irene decided to hover over wendy and pinch a sensitive nipple, making wendy whine a high pitched cry. god, why did that feel so good?

"more."

the other nipple now, and wendy keened, arching her back off the bed, opening her legs wider as more slick dripped out of her, pussy clenching around nothing except the idea of irene being this close to touch. more. more.

"more," she whispered, the word falling back into another whine.

irene grabbed her by the chin and opened her up again, raising her shoulders, tilting her head back. fingers ghosted over her neck. didn't irene hear her? she wanted--

"mmphgh," wendy bent her head back, leveling it with her shoulders so irene's hard cock could reach her throat, and reach it she did. her length slipped in and out of wendy's open mouth, making her gag, making her drool as she gobbled her up as best as she could. irene wasn't stopping, she was pistoning at an almost desperate pace, she fucked wendy's throat like she deserved, like she wanted.

but irene also did more. she tightened her grip around wendy's neck, carefully pressing on the veins right under her jaw, and the squeeze made wendy feel even hotter beneath her own skin, like her entire consciousness was trying to slip through a narrow channel that stimulated every inch of her.

she felt the rush of heat flow through her, pussy aching, and came with irene's cock in her mouth and with her fingers pressing around her neck. wendy gagged on the cock in her mouth with a silent scream. irene could probably tell that she needed to breathe when she tried jerking away, and so she pulled out as wendy was cumming, thrashing as much as she could with the binds that immobilised her, sobbing as she hit that high before taking deep breaths as she came right back down.

wendy knew irene was waiting for her cue, not wanting to touch her until she uttered anything that would signal whether they would continue or not. wendy already came, but irene hadn't, so she wanted to continue.

"sonsaengnim?"

irene's hands caressed her face, and the tips of her hair tickled wendy a little, but when their lips met she felt only bliss. the older woman nipped at her lips, bottom first, before licking into her mouth, their tongues meeting in a peculiar way because of the different angle. it let wendy feel the rough pattern of irene's muscle, kiss up at her lips only to find teeth, have her nose pressed onto a chin instead, but because it was irene it was still every bit as wonderful as any kiss wendy had ever received. maybe better.

the weight above her shifted and irene backed off completely, disappearing from her senses yet again. it made every inch of wendy's skin tingle, not knowing what irene was going to do next. they veered off what they were supposed to be doing, but wendy trusted irene. she'd always do her right.

wendy gasped when she felt the bed beneath her shift, this time feeling it dip between her legs. fuck. please. please. will she finally--

"ah," her breath hitched when she felt irene's sick slot along her folds, still not penetrating her. "god, right there, sunbaenim, please. fuck me, fuck me."

instead of irene's long cock dipping and slipping in between her folds, wendy felt the older woman untie the binds at her ankles. in only a few seconds, her lower limbs were free, but before she could wrap them around irene's waist the older woman only pushed her thighs open, folding them the blonde’s body, causing her hips to adjust.

"irene--fuck!" wendy cried as the older woman landed a slap against her ass cheek, one hand holding her thigh up while wendy only followed along and kept the other up. it felt so good. it felt too good. wendy didn't want to cum from this alone, but it seemed like irene was trying to make her.

she gasped as she felt the shaft of irene's length against her folds again, before it slid lower, spreading the quim dripping out of her slit onto her anus, lubricating it.

"ah, yes, yes, yes," wendy hiccuped a few gasps when she felt irene unceremoniously dip a finger into her, only to whine when she pulled out and spread more on her puckered hole.

wendy wondered what she exactly the older woman was trying--she wasn't planning on going for anal, was she?

her worries were washed away when she felt a silicone head against her pussy, collecting its juice, and wendy knew that this was meant to go in her ass, pleasing her other whole while hopefully irene slammed into her other one.

"god! yes!" wendy sobbed and spread her legs wider as irene gently pushed in the phallic head of a dildo into her rear, slow and steady, wendy feeling herself open up as wide as she could go without getting hurt as she approached the base, only for the end of it to pop in, the hilt of it remaining outside. she felt so good, fuck.

"that feels so good, sunbaenim, oh my god--oh fuck, oh fuck!" wendy thrashed her arms when she felt the device vibrate--it wasn't just a silicone dildo, it was a vibrator, and holy shit, did it feel good against her rim. she felt it in her core, against her walls, stimulating her hole and even deeper.

"ah, fuck yes," wendy sobbed, head thrown back. she hardly felt the way irene was delivering kisses against her chest, on her breasts, sucking at her nipples.

the feeling in her ass was almost too much, overwhelming her senses, overriding her speech. she was spouting gibberish, "oh mmfhgh, s-sunbae, fuck, sunbaenim!" trying to get some stimulation on her clit, sobbing when nothing came.

irene kept going for minutes that felt like hours, kissing her from the neck down until her chest, varying the vibrations in her, making her thighs tremble and lose their strength until eventually she let them collapse onto the mattress.

wendy was starting to feel herself drift away from hanging on the edge too long. she tugged at her cuffs, trying to release herself, but the frustration was getting to her. she just wanted to be released, she just wanted irene's cum in her, she wanted friction, she wanted her hot cock.

"unnie," she whimpered, choking on tears, and it was the signal for everything to stop. irene lifted herself off, stopped the vibrator but left it in her and uncuffed her wrists before popping her earpods out. wendy took it upon herself to uncover her own eyes to see irene sweaty and naked and blushing before her, staring down at her with only the soft lamp of their bedroom lighting her up, pale in the warm light and love and patience in her gaze.

"unnie, unnie," wendy heard herself sob, softly pulling at irene and wrapping her arms and legs around her as the older woman curled into her embrace.

irene kissed the side of her head. "too much?" she asked tentatively.

wendy shook her head. no, it was the opposite. "too little. too slow. I want you too much," she admitted, caressing irene's skin under her fingers. "I'm impatient."

"you're perfect," irene argued, adjusting herself as she leaned back to kiss her, lovingly licking into wendy's mouth.

wendy was still perfectly aroused, and it was obvious that irene was too from the way her dick was leaking onto wendy's stomach. the blonde reached down to cup her palm around the tip of her girlfriend's dick--maybe they could continue the scenario another time. right now she needed her unnie.

"turn it on again, unnie," wendy whispered against irene's neck and the older woman reached down to set the vibrator on low, dragging a long moan out of the blonde. "oh my god, yes," she moaned, tilting her head back, irene nipping at the skin she revealed. "unnie, fuck me, please." wendy looked up at irene who's pupils were blown black, hair tangled from running her fingers through them.

the older woman sat back and held her cock in one hand while pushing wendy's thigh open with the other. wendy whimpered as the head of irene's prick penetrated her, her cunt pulsing and trying to suck her in, too needy to resist in any manner.

"oh fuck, you're so ready for me, baby." irene grunted as she sunk inside her, rocking herself back and forth, careful even if she didn't even need to be.

wendy only moaned the deeper irene went, longing for that sensation, adjusting her hips until irene's short thrust hit--there!

"fuck! yes! right there! unnie!" wendy sobbed as irene curled over her, pulling her closer, deeper, with all of her limbs wrapping tight. she heard the squelch of their sexes meeting with every rut of irene against her, every groan, and it only served to turn wendy on even more. the older woman was quickly losing control, and wendy was right back up on the edge, this time ready to tip over it.

irene's pumps were shallow and desperate, obviously racing towards that end that wendy wanted for them both, rapidly humping her. "fuck! I'm gonna cum, baby," irene groaned, sucking at wendy's neck as she neared, rapidly slapping her hips against wendy’s.

wendy couldn't even voice her own approach--she went running over the peak and came, convulsing, pulsing and squeezing irene's cock as they both cried, irene twitching out her load into her, continuing to buck her hips, the slapping sound of their bottoms ringing out in time with their desperate gasps and grunts.

"fill me up, unnie, just like that," wendy whimpered as she shook in her lover's embrace, unable to do much more besides pant as they both came down.

irene seemed to not want to stop, sitting up and lazily pistoning in and out of her, watching her cum drip out, wendy moaning all the while. she only finally pulled out after a few more pumps, then also removed the vibrator out of her other hole, causing the blonde to sigh.

wendy pouted at the loss from both of her holes, then caressed irene who sat between her thighs, cock still half hard. she got to have two orgasms, so irene should as well.

"you were really into that," irene interrupted her thoughts with an observation. "apart from the end."

"the end was fine, you were just moving too slow."

irene raised a brow. "you were the one who made up the phases." she crawled and moved up along wendy's body until her hips were hovering over the blonde's middle, cock inches away from the younger woman's chest.

wendy smirked up at her, noticing how irene was still panting slightly, pressing the tip of her cock onto one nipple and making them both moan.

"think it's time we flip roles now, so I can get a feel for how it should be next time, yeah?" wendy hummed as irene moved her dick towards the valley of her breasts, wendy cupping her boobs so she could hug her girlfriend's dick appropriately, squeezing a gasp out of the older woman. "what do you think?"

irene stared down at her, beginning to shallowly thrust her hips as wendy made a makeshift hole out of her assets, spreading her cum and the trail of wendy’s juices that were still on her cock all over the blonde’s chest.

"whatever you want, sonsaengnim," irene replied breathlessly, beginning to rut against her in earnest more.

#wenrene #gp!irene #smut

88 notes · View notes

dweemeister · 4 years ago

Photo

New Orleans (1947)

The city of New Orleans is synonymous with a rich cultural tapestry shaped over centuries. Located on the banks of the Mississippi River, its economic and political influence waned with the spread of railroads and highways. Today, its influences are indigenous American, African, French, Spanish, Creole, Honduran, Vietnamese, and much more. But the city remains an inimitable cultural force. One of the city’s most significant contributions to the world is jazz – a musical genre that, even in the mid-twentieth century, attracted racially-coded disdain.

I must admit that I am instantly suspicious of any film that takes a city’s name as its title. Being not in a sniping mood as I write this sentence, I will not single any certain film out – for now. But to reduce a film title to a city’s name is to heighten expectations that the filmmaker will capture the so-called “soul” of a city (a nearly impossible task). Or perhaps they shall depict a man-made or natural disaster that takes place in that city (how often does a city’s name become shorthand for a mass shooting?). Enter Arthur Lubin’s New Orleans: a quasi-musical that does not have the courage to let the musical numbers guide it. The film stars Louis Armstrong (essentially playing himself) and Billie Holiday (not playing herself in her only credited role in a feature film), in addition to other jazz stalwarts at the time: Woody Herman, drummer Zutty Singleton, clarinetist Barney Bigard, trombonist Kid Ory, guitarist Bud Scott. New Orleans makes the mistake of not having Armstrong and Holiday be the main stars. Instead, the film has a half-baked, predictable romance. For a film title with such enormous implications, New Orleans’ concentration makes no sweeping statements about the eponymous city. Instead, it turns its gaze to jazz’s reputation among high-society white Americans.

It is 1917. The Storyville district of New Orleans is a den of prostitution, drinking, gambling, and – worst of all – jazz. Storyville’s residents are mostly black, but some of its welcome patrons are white. Nick Duquesne (Mexican actor Arturo de Córdova) runs a gambling joint frequented by Mrs. Rutledge Smith (Irene Rich) and classical music conductor/pianist Henry Ferber (Richard Hagerman). Irene avoids the jazz there (one of the regulars is Louis Armstrong and the aforementioned players), but her daughter, Miralee (Dorothy Patrick) – an operatic soprano who has arrived in New Orleans to make her professional classical music debut – is entranced by this radical music. Miralee is also entranced with Nick, against her mother’s wishes. Miralee is staying with her relative when she meets their maid, Endie (Billie Holiday), who surreptitiously plays the piano and sings jazz music when she gets the chance. As you might imagine, Endie’s employers disapprove. The film comes to a head as the U.S. military forcibly shuts down Storyville (evicting hundreds of black residents overnight), Nick leaves New Orleans, and Miralee must contend with her emotions just before she makes her classical music professional debut.

Billie Holiday’s fans might be troubled by the fact she is a maid here, given that she intentionally avoided physically demanding occupations in real life. Her reaction to this casting is unclear, as different reputable sources offer contradictory claims: that she abhorred being cast as a maid (Meg Greene’s Billie Holiday: A Biography), or that she relished the opportunity to be in a motion picture regardless of the role (an interview with music journalist Leonard Feather). So as tough as it may be to see her in a subservient role, Holiday appears to be enjoying herself – especially during the musical numbers she is a part of. She is clearly, other than Louis Armstrong, the most musically accomplished member of the cast. But when her character disappears from the film in the final third, New Orleans heaves due to the hackneyed romance between Nick and Miralee. To toss the one actor making this film worth watching for no sensible reason is a disastrous choice by screenwriters Elliot Paul (1941’s A Woman’s Face, 1945’s Rhapsody in Blue) and Dick Irving Hyland (1947’s Kilroy Was Here).

Even in a film independently released through United Artists (the one major Hollywood studio of Old Hollywood with the least executive interference), she and Armstrong cannot be the central stars. Considering Holiday’s musical talents, one wonders why she never starred in another film. Despite some digging, I could not find the answer. But if any black woman musician could have films centered around her, it would be Holiday. Her contemporaries, Lena Horne and Ethel Waters, could never overcome the terrible beliefs that audiences would not pay to see a film with a black actress in the lead role. But did Holiday – noting how Louis Armstrong also appeared in films – want to make more films? That may be an answer for someone else to uncover.

More than any film of its time that I can recall, New Orleans is overflowing with a disobedient musical energy. When considering musical genres innovated by African-Americans, there is an underground aspect to their initial spread that, at first, appears exclusive. Jazz, R&B, and hip hop have all gone through these motions: a tumultuous, secretive birth; a rebellious adolescence where critics decry the moral fabric of such music; and finally mainstreaming. Jazz in New Orleans lies somewhere within that adolescence. Its troubled reputation is the result of a mixture of musical and racial tensions. New Orleans’ affluent white community, on its surface, disdains jazz and prefers the import that is Western classical music – opinions they express vocally (as an amateur classically-trained musician who learned more about jazz later in life, I can’t stand the gatekeeping behavior exemplified in this film). So any time that jazz music is played in an unorthodox setting – the parlor of the Smith household, an orchestra hall – it feels defiant, dangerous.* These musical-racial dynamics persist in America to this day. To even see a film acknowledge that conflict, however ineloquently, is credit to the screenwriters and director Arthur Lubin understanding aspects about musical popular culture of this time.

But what is New Orleans and New Orleans without music? First sung by Holliday and reprised (one might even say appropriated in the negative sense) multiple times is, “(Do You Know What It Means to Miss) New Orleans”, with music by Louis Alter and lyrics by Edgar De Lange. Louis Armstrong is on his signature trumpet, a phalanx of great jazz instrumentalists play on the flanks, and Billie Holiday’s voice captures the timbre necessary in any song about longing.

Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans And miss it each night and day? I know I’m not wrong, the feeling’s getting stronger The longer I stay away.

youtube

It is a song representative of this film’s failed ambitions as an embodiment of New Orleans’ spirit. But it is also a brilliant showcase for some of the great jazz figures working at this time – including instrumental performances by Woody Herman and his orchestra and a virtuosic performance of “Honky Tonk Train Blues” by pianist Meade “Lux” Lewis. Nevertheless, New Orleans’ most soulful performances always revolve around Armstrong and Holiday singing Alter and De Lange’s original compositions. Other soundtrack highlights include “The Blues are Brewin’” and “Farewell to Storyville”. The former exemplifies Holiday’s timeless appeal, her singing voice’s unornamented pathos that elevates the simplest of lyrics. The latter is the most context-dependent song in the soundtrack and occurs as the U.S. military orders the closure of the speakeasies and gambling joints of Storyville – a swinging elegy without defeatism. New Orleans is at its most enjoyable during these musical numbers, and the film just feels lost whenever Armstrong and Holiday are not present or when any of the supposed leads open their mouths to speak.

That Lubin and the film’s producers do not trust the soundtrack to carry New Orleans indicates an ironic misgiving towards jazz music itself. United Artists’ refusal to reward Armstrong and Holiday star billing over de Córdova and Patrick is probably rooted to then-contemporary reality that movie theaters in the American South refused to show films with black leads. In addition, jazz music – like in this film – was not yet completely in the mainstream. If it appeared in a Hollywood film (and elements of jazz often appeared in mid-century American musicals), it almost always would be presented and popularized by a white performer. This development is not exclusive to jazz, let alone artistic medium. The filmmakers, in New Orleans’ final third, muddle their message through such appropriation. “Cultural appropriation” at its most basic definition is a neutral concept, but the developments in the film’s closing scenes – intentional or otherwise – extend this appropriation by presenting a white person’s presentation of jazz as more acceptable to a general audience than a black person’s.

For New Orleans, it remains obscure in terms of Hollywood musicals, African-American cinema, and within the esteemed United Artists filmography. In the present day, it serves best as an exhibition for some of the most acclaimed jazz musicians and performers working in the 1940s. To those fans of the numerous black jazz performers appearing in the film, New Orleans is a bittersweet reminder of what may have been.

My rating: 6.5/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

* In one scene in an orchestral concert hall, jazz is played as an encore to a classical music concert. It says volumes that the audience is beside themselves and that all of the members of the orchestra (and Richard Hagerman, playing their conductor) are transfixed.

#New Orleans #Arthur Lubin #Arturo de Córdova #Dorothy Patrick #Louis Armstrong #Billie Holiday #Marjorie Lord #Irene Rich #John Alexander #Richard Hageman #Elliot Paul #Dick Irving Hyland #Herbert J. Biberman #Nat W. Finston #Woody Herman #Eddie DeLange #Louis Alter #TCM #My Movie Odyssey

5 notes · View notes

girls-scenarios · 6 years ago

Text

To Feel Human (Part 1)

Idol: Irene (Red Velvet)

Prompt: Could you make android au with Irene and fem!reader? The reader created Irene and wanted Irene to learn about human feelings. Although, sometimes Irene feels like she’s a burden to the reader and leaves temporary. At the end, she comes back they love each other ❤️

Writer: Admin Lee

A/N: Ok this is gonna be a pretty long one, which is why I separated it! I already have most of the second part finished, I’m just working on the ending. Anyways, I took some liberties with this one, but I hope you like it! This one has been super enjoyable for me to write, and I was very inspired by one of my favorite fics: Zeitgeist by leeyoobin on AO3!

Part 2

It started as just an off-the-wall idea, in the living room of one of your friend’s house, Yeonjung’s, to be specific. Along with the rest of your closely knit group, including Yoojung, Yuha, Eunwoo, and Jihyo, you had talked of AI’s, their advancement, etcetera. This was shortly after college, when you had finally earned your Bachelor’s degree in Bioengineering, and a Master’s in mechanical engineering. With an adoration for movies like Ghost in the Shell, and an affinity for problem solving, this was able to motivate you enough to begin a new project: making the first android for personal use. Unfortunately, you weren’t the first with the idea and skills needed to create true artificial life. However, so far the androids on the market have been widely restricted, kept only to be used by large-scale companies with supervision, the military, and other government operations. So, you felt the compulsion to take the risk of creating one more suited for use by the average person. And after a few days of thinking it through on your own, you ended up pitching the idea to Jihyo over lunch.

“You want to...What?”

“Well, I didn’t think it’d be a bad idea, you know? Someone to keep the average person company, help around the house, take care of pets... Stuff like that.” You explained, trying your best to sound reasonable about the idea.

“That sounds great and all, but what about the parts? And the facility we’d have to use to build it in? Half of the things we would need would most likely be illegal for regular people to get..”

You paused, thinking for a moment. “How about Eunwoo’s girlfriend, Kyulkyung? She has some corporate connection, I’m sure.. She’s not an heiress for nothing.”

“I- Ok, we could ask, but it’d probably be a stretch, even for her,” Jihyo replied, always the realistic one. “And I’m assuming you won’t be able to do this alone, so I’m texting the rest of the group, just to see if they’re interested.”

A week or so later, Kyulkyung was able to text you, voicing her enthusiasm for the project, as well as her ability to obtain what your group needed. She was more than happy to help, and coupled with Eunwoo’s impatience, they were able to discreetly transfer some packages of parts and tech to a borderline-abandoned company warehouse near the small town you lived in.

Everything was now sitting in boxes in the now less-empty warehouse. With the help of your friends you took the time to meticulously go through and somewhat organize the amalgamation of parts you had received. There was also a rather large one that you had yet to open. Weird, because Kyulkyung had never really said anything about a package that big. Nonetheless, your curiosity got the best of you and you opened it up.

A discarded android was what you found. Telltale light on its temple blank, lifeless. You had never been this close to one, really, and found it fascinating that something could look so human. You turned in Jihyo’s general direction and got her attention.

“Hey, Jihyo!” You called, and she turned away from what she was doing, walking over to where you stood. “I didn’t know this would be a repair-job, did you?”

“Oh, yeah. When Kyulkyung suggested the idea of fixing up a deactivated droid, she said it’d be easier on all of us. No one would really look into it if something irreparable were to go missing, so she just took this,” She gestured at the inactive android. “and said it’d be more efficient to just fix it up. A lot more inconspicuous for the company, too. Sorry, maybe I should’ve mentioned it.”

“No, it’s fine! You’re right about it seeming easier, I was just surprised,” You explained, eyes still locked onto the body in front of you. “Since we only have to fix it up,we should finish a lot faster, don’t you think?” You could see her nod out of the corner of your eye, and she walked off to resume her work.

Taking note of it’s features, you saw it was a female model, not too hard to tell. Its skin looked soft and pale, and this surprised you, but made sense after thinking about it. Maybe the people that worked with them often wanted to feel more at ease, so the appearance was made to look lifelike. It’s hair was relatively long, and dark in color. You knelt down in front of the container, reaching out to touch the body lying in front of you, but stopped yourself mid-reach, now realizing the gashes and dents in the model (most likely one of the reasons why it was in the scrap pile). Deciding it was a better decision to take care of everything else before dealing with the android, you shut the box gently and went to ask your friends what they needed help with.

The week had finally ended, and you and your friends worked day and night to get the warehouse up to par. There was a platform set up with wires and tubes to hold the android while it was being worked on and programmed, a couple of shelves stocked with spare parts in the corner, some computers and generators, and the android itself - still in the dark, hard plastic container it had arrived in. Not ready to unpack it quite yet, your group took the weekend to relax and prepare for the hard work to come.

Upon meeting again Monday evening, a matter needed to be taken care of before you all could begin: would the android stay here in the warehouse, or would one of you take it home with you once it was completed? Lottery was as good a method as any, and you all put your names in a small box that Yoojung had picked up. After a bit of shuffling the names within the box, Yuha grabbed a slip of paper. She then read aloud:

“(Y/N).”

Looking up from paper, she smiled and jokingly commented, “Have fun getting the robot used to that beast of yours.”

You laughed, imagining how your dog - a Newfoundland named Walter - would act around someone new in the house.

With that now taken care of, you began work once again. This time, finally ready to start working on the android. Eunwoo opened up the box attempted to pick up the body inside.

“Damn, this thing is heavy.. Yoojung, could you bring a rolling cart or something?”

“Sure,” She replied with a chuckle, then within a minute, brought back something the android could be moved more easily on. “Here you go.”

They both managed to get the droid on the cart, and in half an hour, hooked up all the wires from the android to the computers nearby. Then came the more difficult part: repairing the android itself. Not an impossible task, however, it was quite daunting. From what was on the container it arrived in, the model seemed to be a CX100, which didn’t necessarily matter to you outside of which parts were correct. So after finding the model type, you worked on getting familiar with the software Kyulkyung sent with the rest of the tech, hoping to figure it out in enough time to get a diagnostics test run soon. It was getting later in the day though, and your friends had obligations outside of this, so they were gradually saying their goodbyes until it was just you. However, you didn’t mind this, and understood they had lives of their own. Unlike you, who had a flexible schedule working from home (you wrote articles and edited for a science-related magazine). This was one of the few exciting things happening in your life right now, and you didn’t want to waste the time you had.

4 hours had passed since you were left alone. You were still messing around with the computers and getting a handle on the general anatomy of the android in front of you and were now feeling comfortable enough to begin tinkering with the programs necessary to work on the robot. Getting the diagnostics software package up and running, you look at the data now popping up on the screen in a list based on importance of the issue. There were several biocomponents that you found were damaged, as well as a critically low amount of Thirium 310 (a type of liquid that circulates energy and electronic info throughout the android). The software showed which of the synthetic organs were damaged in a 3D model of the robot, so it was a lot easier for you to search the boxes and containers for the parts that it required. You left them out to be cleaned, along with a sticky note listing what they were and how to properly clean them, as you had read over the procedures in a document that had also accompanied the software. It would make more sense to do it tomorrow anyways (when you weren’t running on two Red Bulls). Not exactly known for being a night owl, the work was going starting to go a little slower, even with the help of energy drinks. So you decided on calling it a night for now, figuring that you had accomplished enough for one evening.

The next two weeks went by surprisingly fast, and there was an impressive amount of productiveness despite everyone’s schedules getting busier as the year was drawing to a close. It was nearly the end of September, and as the temperatures dropped, your spirits certainly didn’t. The android was nearly in full repair, with the parts being cleaned and replaced, Thirium replenished, gashes and dents mended. You all felt more than accomplished at your progress, considering that all was left was putting some final touches on the programming. Collectively, you had all decided that an android with a capability to be gentle, courteous, reliable, and helpful would be one of the best options for a robot with the intent of personal use. Therefore, the appropriate behavioral abilities were added into the matrix. However, with parts of the company’s system still being there, you discovered the android had already been embedded with a neural net - thus giving it a way of thinking, of being, similar to humans.

Now, for the moment you had all worked so hard for. With the programming complete, the android was ready to be activated. The small group that had put an insane amount time into this project was now all gathered around the small platform where the android was kept while being repaired. Kyulkyung had taken a day off to join the ensemble, just as excited to see the finished product in action.

“So, it’s really going to act like a normal person?” She spoke up, inspecting the multiple tabs still on the computer screens that surrounded the platform.

“I mean, that’s what we’re hoping for, for the most part. I think what we were working towards was an ability to act like someone you’d see every day - or a friend even.” Yuha explained, typing some things into the computer before shutting down a few tabs. “Those were just some diagrams of what needed to be fixed.” She stated, turning back to face the group in the rolling chair she was lounging in.

“Are we ready to start it up, then?” Yeonjung inquired. “I want to see how it acts when it wakes up!”

“Yeah, I think so. Eunwoo, would you do the honors?” Jihyo asked, gesturing to the button on the laptop that would start the android up.

“Sure can!” She exclaimed with a thumbs up, jumping over to the monitor. “Everyone ready?”

You all nodded your heads, eager to get the android running. The anticipation was killing you for sure because you knew it would be staying with you tonight. Eunwoo pressed the key, causing the computers to whirr with activity. The temple light on the android lit up a bright blue, and its eyes opened.

“I am model CX100, how can I help you?”

You spent the next hour or so going over all the basics: making sure the programming was compatible with its neural net functions, checking to see that the body was moving correctly, and testing things like vision and other sense modifications that you had improved upon. The android complied with every request you made of it without a hitch, and soon, you were finished. By this time it was already dark, but the group couldn’t help but be enamored with the artificial intelligence. They spent at least an extra hour asking it a plethora of questions, to which the robot answered all of them to the best of its ability. However, before it was time to take it home for the night, you held a quick meeting.

“(Y/N) just be careful, okay? Try to keep its presence on the down-low, we don’t need anyone getting suspicious, especially since it’d be Kyulkyung’s job - and potentially our careers as well - on the line.” Jihyo stated seriously. You understood, of course, getting caught would only end badly for you all. So you nodded, promising to keep it out of sight as much as possible.

With that out of the way though, everyone soon broke off from the ensemble to head home, leaving the android in your hands.

“Ok, CX100, we’re going to go to my house where you’ll stay for the time being. I have an extra room where you can stay, so that won’t be an issue.. And maybe tomorrow we can get you some more clothes.” You explain, now aware that the only thing it was wearing was a hospital gown. Functional for setting up, yes, but maybe not for everyday wearing. Figuring it’d fit in some spare clothes lying around at home, you didn’t think it would be much of an issue for the ride there.

“Thank you.” Short and to the point.

Maybe you’d just need to warm up to it.

You arrived at your house without a hitch and opened the door for CX100. The two of you then walk up the small pathway to the large wooden door of your two-story abode. Maybe you didn’t need all the space, but you got it for a deal, and though it was a little rustic, you enjoyed the tranquil atmosphere it had.

“Wait here a second, I have a dog.” You stated, not wanting the android to become too surprised at your rather large pet. “He’s a Newfoundland, so he’s kind of big, but he’s really sweet so don’t worry too much.”

You then opened the door, inviting the android in first before following soon after, closing the door behind you.

“Walter!” You called.

Within a few seconds, your Newfoundland was bounding down the stairs, and jumping right into your arms. He covered your face in kisses before looking up at the new house guest. Walter slowly stepped over to where CX100 was, sniffing and wagging his tail as he got closer. The android seemed to dislike him, a sour expression on its face as it backed up into your coat rack near the door. Sensing the robot’s discomfort, you called your dog back over to you before telling him to go lay on the couch in the living room adjacent to the entry. He understood and trotted away.

“He’s a bit much, I know.. But I’m guessing dogs aren’t your favorite now, huh?”

“I can’t say they are. He’s very large and… eccentric. Though I will become accustomed to his presence, as I assume he is your pet.” It answered monotonously.

You nodded and beckoned CX100 to follow you to its room, one of the spares you had in the house. It was the closest to yours, so you’d be able to easily check up on it overnight if needed.

“Feel free to move some things around, change it if you want. It’s your room now, so please make yourself at home,” You mentioned softly. “I’ll be downstairs for a minute to feed Walter, if you need anything, let me know.” And with that, you left the android to get settled.

The night carried on as usual, save for the addition of your guest. The droid acclimated quickly, and you watched it find its way around the house like it had been living there forever. Its modified features were definitely making themselves known now: the photographic memory, use of its senses, etcetera. This was promising news, and you would definitely have to keep your colleagues posted.

Once it finally came time to go to sleep, you contemplated asking CX100 to spend the night in your room, if for nothing more than to keep an eye on it for its first night outside of the makeshift lab. You came to the conclusion that, yes, it would probably be a good idea to keep an eye on it overnight just to make sure its sleep sequence went smoothly. Although it doesn’t need as much sleep as a human does, you concluded that the android would need more time tonight to process the day’s activities.

Walking to its room, you knocked once before opening the door. CX100 was sitting quietly on the bed, seemingly staring off into space. You cleared your throat to get its attention, which snapped the android out of its thoughts; this prompted it to look up at you.

“Would you mind if you stayed in my room? It’d just be tonight, I wanted to keep an eye on you to make sure everything is running normally.”

“Yes, it will not be a problem,” The android answered. “Would you like me to relocate myself now?”

“Sure, thank you.” You were completely ready for bed so, you followed the android out into the hall, turning off the few lights that were still on as you went.

Soon, you were able to watch as the android went into its dormant state with Walter cuddled up next to you as the blue light on its temple went from a constant glow to a dim flash of color about every 10 seconds.

You now felt relaxed knowing that everything had gone smoothly for the night, and that there had been no problem whatsoever with CX100, albeit its slightly reserved personality. This wasn’t really a problem per se, however, the delay in showing the emotion you hoped it was capable of would most likely take some time.

Upon waking up in the morning, you noticed two things; One: CX100 wasn’t in your room any longer, and two: Walter wasn’t there either. You promptly got up and went downstairs, only to find your dog lazily napping on the floor underneath the kitchen table, and CX100 cooking breakfast.

It noticed your presence, and looked at you from over its shoulder. “Walter has been fed, I assumed two cups of food was adequate for a dog of his size,” It stated, looking back down at the bacon that was sizzling away in the pan on the stove. “and I’m in the process of preparing breakfast, is that alright?”

“Y-yeah, definitely. Thank you.” You replied, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. It was still relatively early, 7:26 to be exact. Going to the fridge, you grabbed some juice, along with a cup from the cabinet nearby, and went to sit down at the kitchen table. After a few minutes, you spoke up.

“Don’t you think getting called CX100 all the time is boring?”

“I have not. It is the name of my model, should I not address myself as such?” It inquired, setting the now cooked bacon on a plate, along with some eggs and a biscuit.

“That’s true, it is. I just thought, maybe for something a little less suspicious in case we were to go out of the house, would an actual name be nice?”

“If you think it is a choice that would benefit me, then please do.”

“Do you want to decide? On both whether you want one or not, and what your name would be?” You questioned, genuinely out of curiosity, but also partly for the purpose of testing its mental abilities.

The android seemingly went into deep thought for a moment and looked down at the wooden floor. It hadn’t necessarily had to make a decision of its own before now, but now given the chance, it hesitated. It was built to be more human, had the capabilities to suggest, decide, request - the list goes on. The LED flashed yellow, just for a moment, before assuming its normal, blue glow.

“Irene.” The android stated, now making eye contact with you. “I would like to be called Irene.”

#red velvet #irene bae #irene #bae joohyun #red velvet scenario #irene scenarios #girl group scenarios #girl group scenario #kpop scenario #girl groups #kpop girl groups

175 notes · View notes

kpopscenario · 6 years ago

Text

Red Velvet reaction to accidentally insulting/being mean to their s/o during a fight

(I changed up the request a little, since I don't feel comfortable writing about physical violence, I hope it's still okay!)

Also: I don't think any of them would actually act in a mean or hurting way in general unless they would be in an extremely bad mood (and even then they might not act the way I described, it's all fiction!)

Warnings: Angst, Cussing (Strong language)

Irene

You guys would be going through a pretty tough time for the last few days. You'd be busy with lots of exams and late night shifts while she would be stressed by the management and the industry in general, that you guys would eventually get into a fight was predictable. You would come home pretty late and expect her to already being asleep but once you'd see that the light in the livingroom was still on you'd be a little bit confused. "Baby?", you'd ask with obvious tiredness in your voice as you enter the livingroom. "What?", she'd snap also tired but a lot more irritated. "Why are you still awake? It's late, you should go to sleep..", you'd reply after she'd finally turn around to face you. "Thanks, I don't need you to tell me what to do.", she'd say quite offended which would throw you off guard a little. "I didn't mean to-" "you come home late and just think you're allowed to tell me what to do? Leave me the fuck alone.", you would just look at her in disbelief and hurt after she'd storm out of the livingroom. "I didn't mean to be-", you'd get interrupted by the door closing loudly which would make you flinch a little. Her behavior wasn't normal, she was exaggerating extremely and didn't seem like she normal was, her cold behavior hurt you. You'd decide to sleep on the couch after some time just to let her cool off, she needed some space so you gave her just that. The next day you'd be brushing your teeth when you'd see her enter the bathroom too. She would avoid looking at you, but there was obvious guilt in her eyes. "Look.. yesterday.. I exaggerated.. I'm sorry I just.. lately everything has been a little too much you know.. but you don't deserve that behavior... you're not doing anything wrong, I'm sorry..", she would say slowly and calmly after you were done with brushing your teeth, Irene always was a quite reasonable person when it came to fights and you were overly relieved to hear that she wasn't actually as mad as she seemed to be. "It's okay... but please talk to me, don't just keep everything to yourself, okay?" "Yeah.. I'm sorry...", she would hug you from behind which would make you smile and put your arms on hers. "It's okay.. I care about you.." "i know.. I care about you too.."

Seulgi

I can imagine that Seulgi could be pretty cruel in heated situations, the fight would have to be huge and she would have to already be in a bad mood but once those things come together, she wouldn't hesitate to become really mean. One day you guys would be in a heated argument you both wouldn't even know how it had started the both of you were now just screaming at each other to make your points clear until Seulgi would be way to frustrated to actually stick to the topic. "Fuck you, okay? I don't care anymore, do whatever the fuck you want.", she'd just scream which would make you shut up immediately and just look at her shocked. After a few seconds of complete silence she'd close her eyes tightly and shake her head. "No.. look I didn't... I need to get away from you for a few minutes, I'm sorry..", she would probably grab her jacket and shoes and leave the apartment. You knew it would be the best for the both of you since you both needed to cool down a little before actually talking to each other. You'd try to distract yourself a little to calm down but wouldn't really succeed, after what felt like hours she'd finally come back home to you. Her cheeks would be red and she would be shivering slightly. She'd fastly get rid of her shoes and coat to sit next to you onto the couch. "I went to far.." "it's oka-" "No it's not.. we should respect each other, no matter what, and I didn't, I'm extremely sorry.." she would say while holding your hand tightly. "When I'm mad I say mean stuff sometimes.. please don't take it serious okay?", she would try to reassure you and make sure you wouldn't be hurt, she would explain her behavior for you to understand and she would try to discuss about the topic which made you guys fight again, but this time calmer.

Wendy

Similar to Seulgi, Wendy could become pretty insulting and mad in an arguement, she's quite mature but once she'd be provoked too much or once she'd be way too irritated and stressed even small things could make her flip. You guys would be in the practice room since she asked you for some help for the new choreography, she wasn't really sure about her dancing and needed some feedback. You knew from the beginning that this wouldn't go well since she already seemed pretty irritated but she insisted on you coming with her. She would start dancing the choreography but due to her not being able to properly focus she wasn't able to do the choreography as good as she wanted to. "You're a little too slow" "yeah, no shit." "I'm just giving you feedback", she wouldn't say anything yet and just continue dancing, trying even harder than before. After the nth time dancing the same eight steps she would be on the end of her nerves. "I doubt that you'll be able to take criticism right now..." "No, just say it, I'm not a fucking baby, I can take it" "I really don-" "For fucks sake, grow a pair and fucking tell me what I did wrong, okay?" "You don't need to be mean about it now, I knew this was a bad idea" "yeah, my ideas are shitty, huh? Fuck you okay, I'm trying and you're just too incompetent to actually give me a propper feedback." "Calm down Wen-" "Don't fucking tell me to calm down", you would try to stay calm while she would start becoming louder and louder and more insulting until you couldn't take it anymore, you knew it was hard for her to calm down once she's mad like this but now she was going to far. "I'm going", you'd simply say with tears in your eyes and storm out of the studio, you'd call a taxi and immediately drive home. Your phone would vibrate all the time but you would simply decline all of her calls immediately not wanting to talk to her at all. Once you'd be home you'd get into your shared room and close the door. You wouldn't be able to fall asleep until she came home tho, since you'd still be worried. Once she got home you'd act as if you were already asleep, but once you heard her sobbing quietly you couldn't take it and walk into the livingroom. "Wendy...?" "I'm such a bad person y/n..", she would say which would break your heart. You would simply sit next to her and hug her until she'd calm down, she would hold onto you really tight and just cry quietly, mumbling hundreds of 'sorry's' and 'i love you's'. After she'd calm down she would apologize even more and stumble over her words. "Calm down baby... it's okay..", she would continue beating herself up for it and making sure that she didn't mean what she said, you would end up telling her that it really was okay and that you understand her but you would want her to actually talk to you when she'd feel bad. You guys would spend the night holding each other.

Joy

In my opinion, she's a quite peaceful person who wouldn't really scream in a fight, it would take a lot to get her to a point where she'd actually start hurting the person in front of her, but when she's too stressed and pressured she would probably let it put somewhere she knew she was save, which isn't a good way to cope with it but she'd slowly get there. She would probably be really upset about being treated badly by her manager in the past few days, she would talk less and her cheerful self would turn into a quieter more reserved one. She would also take things said to her extremely personal, it would be hard to joke around with her when she'd be in such a mood but since you didn't properly notice what would have been going on you'd try go lighten the mood by still saying some funny things. "I hope you won't fall during your comeback stage", you'd say jokingly after seeing the shoes she brought home from practice, she would just roll her eyes at you. "Yeah, thank you, as if there isn't enough pressure on me already." "Ah.. I'm sorry baby", you'd be a little put off guard by her irritated behavior but you'd try to be more careful with her, which apparently wouldn't seem to be okay with her either. "You don't have to treat me like I'm some fragile little girl, you know.", she'd calmly say with an aggressive undertone. "Well.. It seems like whatever I do is not doing any good.." "Maybe it's because you don't know how to actually treat me, I thought you cared about me and I thought you actually know me.", the things she would say wouldn't necessarily be mean or insulting, she would rather make you simply feel guilty and insecure about you and your relationship which would hurt you more than insults could, she wouldn't really do it on purpose obviously and I think she'd be able to catch herself pretty fast. "Okay no... this came off wrong baby.. I didn't mean it like that", she would bite her lip probably and think deeply about what she should say to make the situation better, onviously feeling bad about making you feel this way, she really never intended to. She would sit down with you onto the bed and focus her whole attention on you ignoring the other things that were bugging her. She would proceed to tell you how much she actually appreciated you and how she didn't ever want to lose you, she wouldn't exactly beat herself up but she would criticize her behavior and explain to you that it was unacceptable that she acted this way and that she would try to change it. You would tell her to talk to you and she would admit that she'd feel bad about sharing her worries with you since she didn't want to burden you with her problems. You guys would take a lot of time to talk everything out calmly, In my opinion Sooyoung seems like someone that's really good at communicating which would come through in that conversation you two would be having. Afterwards she'd probably pay for some icecream and just spend the day with you at the park to get rid of some negativity.

Yeri

In my opinion Yeri could be someone that wouldn't be able to properly deal with jealousy. She would try not to come off as an insecure person and she would try to not care about like you going out with some friends and being a little touchy, but she'd have a hard time with that, mixed with an already irritated mood there would be no good outcome. It would probably be a normal day you guys would spend at home when you'd suddenly get a call from a close friend of yours, you would talk to your friend for some time just laughing about random stuff, after you'd hang up the phone Yeri wouldn't be in sight anymore which would confuse you. "Yeri?", you'd call out. "What do you want?", she'd call back but with an annoyed tone in her voice. "Is everything okay?", you'd ask confused following the boice to the kitchen where she would be making some tea for herself. "Oh, you're talking to me? Go talk to your friend, you seem much happier with them." "Baby... don't be jealous, you know we're just friends.." "Yeah as if you wouldn't cheat on me the second you'd have the chance to.", she would say pretty aggressively which would hurt you really bad, only the thought of her not trusting you would make you feel sick in your stomach. She would take her tea and just leave the kitchen immediately afterwards, slamming the door to your room. You would go after her, not wanting to let this go this fast. "You know that what you said actually really hurt, right?" "Well, you hurt me too! Stop being so selfish and only caring about yourself.", she'd say loudly which would shock you. You would leave the room without saying anything else and just lay down onto the couch trying to distract yourself, you would fail miserably at that and probably cry a little after you couldn't take it since you were scared to lose her and hurt by her words. Yeri wouldn't feel much better, once she'd hear your sobs she would probably start crying too and feel guilty about what she had said before. She'd finally be able to think straight again and immediately go up to you into the livingroom. Under tears she would apologize which would break your heart. "Why don't you trust me? What did I do?" "No.. I trust you I... I swear I do!.. I'm so sorry..", she wouldn't be really good with words but she would just sit down onto your lap and cling onto you really tight, trying to show you with actions how sorry she was to make you feel this way. After more tears you both calmed down a little, which would make you talk about the topic again. You would try to make sure that she knew how much you actually loved her and that nobody could come inbetween you guys and she would make sure you knew that she trusted you more than anyone else and she just had phases like these where she just wasn't herself and got overly insecure and jealous. The mood would be pretty low for some time, but after some more hugs and kisses and 'i love you's' you guys would be able to joke about it again. "You know... y/f (your friend) is actually pretty hot if I think about it..." "Yah! Stop this..", she would whine while you'd tease her, but you both would end up laughing about it.

-BL

127 notes · View notes

blog-in-a-corner · 6 years ago

Text

The Secrets Of The BunnyHill Lodge - Welcome or Farewell?

Hewwo everybody it’s finally here!

FYI: There is no ultima plot in this rewrite.

“What could possibly go wrong” words Aaron would soon regret.

Bunny Hill,an otherwise small town,was only known for its rabbit season. Hundreds of rabbits of all if not many kinds of their species, flooding the area all spring; a beautiful sight that made the town a tourist attraction.

But it wasn't spring.

It was winter. The only time of year absolutely no one would want to be there; not even the rabbits that inhabited the town every spring. The snow storms would only become so horribly violent.

It had been a long day. 8 hours, on an icy road no less, was more than unpleasant for anybody.

But finally,they were there. There was snow all around,giving the abandoned lodge in front of them,a more dead look then it already did. The wooden walls of the lodge were swollen from years and years of the snow melting into the wood every spring. Whatever was left of the windows was chilled by the ever so ice-cold wind. A lodge should be a comforting sight,but something about this one could fill just about anyone with dread.

“Finally,” Aaron said “We're here” he stretched his arms over his head and yawned. Tired from such a long car ride,the built male wanted nothing more than to rest, but he had work to do.

“IRENE I think my legs are dead” Garroth stated as he fell to the snowy ground.

“Someone carry me to the lodge” his muffled voice could be heard from the snow.

“Nah. Just die there if you really want” Lucinda responded.

“I'll carry you” Aaron said picking up the taller blonde.

“oh hey thanks-” Aaron dropped him into the snow face first.

His cry filled with the pain of betrayal was barely audible from the snow,but it could be heard.

Everyone was taking a moment to stretch. An 8 hour car ride can make your body pretty stiff.

“Garroth,could you get up and help me unload the luggage?” Aaron asked,motioning towards the trunk of the car.

“Okay!” Garroth responded,getting up from the snow, his face as blue as it could possibly be.

“Gosh, Garroth” Kim said. “How could you even keep your head in the snow so long? It's freezing!”

“If you love snow like I do,your love for snow and the freezing snow sorta cancel each other out” Garroth said rather plainly. Too plainly perhaps.

They unloaded their things and headed towards the lodge. Aaron unlocked the door with the key given to him by his father.

They open the door to a dusty, dark, and rather creepy lodge. It was hard to believe this was a place where families and people once laughed in and enjoyed. The lodge had only three floors, a garage, a library and an attic. The whole lobby was filled cobwebs and broken furniture. Paintings on the wall were dull,grey and torn. There were staircases leading to the second floor, beneath them lied the doors to the library, aside the library were two hallways filled with maintenance rooms. To the left, there was the receptionist counter and a diner that doubled as a gift shop, the faded sign on the wall read “The Emerald Avenue”.

“The….Emerald Avenue?” Kim read aloud, eyes squinted.

“Didn’t they declare bankruptcy almost 10 years ago?” Aaron wondered.

“I think? I dunno”

To the right of the room, there was a huge waiting room with twenty couches to rest on when you have just come after hours of driving or on a flight. Last but not least, a fireplace in the very middle of the lobby, serving its place as the centerpiece of the room.

“Huh, why is so much of the furniture broken? The place has been untouched for so long…” Aaron remarked.

“Teenagers, Animals, the harsh weather, thieves, I could go on...” Kim said.

“Yeesh this place is a mess! What twenty years untouched can do to a place…” Lucinda said in surprise.

“How’d a place like this even close down?” Aaron asked. “Wasn’t it the place to go to if you were gonna stay in this town?

“Maybe there was a rivaling lodge that ran the place out of business?” Kim said.

“No,” Garroth said.“The town's too small for there to be any other lodge that could possibly rival this one. This was the only lodge they had, or ever will have. At least of this stature. The only real reason for a place like this to close down is if foot traffic slowed down enough, but according to reports that's not the case. As many people still come here as they did twenty years ago,and twenty years before that. So it's really a mystery why this place shut down” the blonde stated.

“How the hell do you know that much about this place?” Lucinda asked in shock.

“My parents run a real estate business, remember? Before we left I found some of my father's files of the lodge and-”

“We can talk more after we turn on the lights Garroth, it's getting creepier in here by the second!” Kim cut Garroth off.

“Oh, right.”Aaron said.

The raven-haired male pulled a piece of paper from his pocket,opened it and began to read it's contents out loud.

“Aaron, in the area where the lodge is there is no data,nor is there internet. We didn't say anything before because we didn't think you'd go if you knew-”

“No internet?!” the brunette yelled.

“That's bullshit!” red-headed witch said in agreement.

“Guys calm down! We can just get a guy to install it here later” Aaron said. He continued to read-

-”In order to restore the power you must turn on the boiler. It's located in the garage.”

“To the garage then!” the freckled brunette shouted in glee, adjusting her glasses. She hated the dark. Nothing would make her happier than to get the lights on.

The gang walked into the garage and found the boiler. Inside the garage was even colder than the inside of the lodge. There was also a ton of boxes and crates in the garage, most likely filled with oil, gas, tools, so on and so forth. Aside from that the garage was pretty empty;most likely due to the fact that a lot of things were sold or stolen after the lodge closed down. Garroth went right to the boiler as soon as he saw it.

“Alright! Let's turn this baby on and get on with our day!” the blonde said.

“Garroth wait don't you think we should maybe-”

“BOOM” Aaron was cut off by the boilers explosion.

//Heyo! Sorry if this page was a bit short but the pages get longer I promise! Anyways thank you to anyone and everyone reading and supporting this fanfiction of mine :D This is my first time writing seriously so any and all criticism is appreciated.//

#aphmau #TSOTBL #aaron lycan #garroth ro'meave #kim #lucinda

28 notes · View notes

breakingarrows · 6 years ago

Text

The Duology of Sherlock Holmes and A Game of Shadows

[This was originally published on VerticalSliceMedia.com in 2018 and is republished from the latest draft I have]

Holding Sherlock Holmes dear to my heart I was delighted to watch the 2009 adaptation directed by Guy Ritchie and starring Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law. Having started reading the classic novels and short stories during junior year of high school, the release of the film only propelled me further into the many adaptations of the character and continually draws me into new ones. The soundtrack is great, the action fit the canon, the chemistry between our two lead actors is entertaining, and the mystery is fun to follow due to the truth hiding underneath the shadow of the supernatural, something past Holmes’ story The Hound of the Baskervilles did to great effect. Two years later and all the key people return for A Game of Shadows, this time featuring Holmes’ greatest adversary, Professor Moriarty. While my younger self initially enjoyed the film as a follow up, frequent viewings and thinking since has degraded it to a mediocre follow up with some bright spots to save it from utter failure.

Immediately apparent in Sherlock Holmes (2009) is that the film does not shy away from, and instead embraces, the fact that the Holmes of the classic novels was physically adept and knowledgeable in hand to hand combat. The film combines this with his rapid deductions, as he observes a combatants physical body for weaknesses and proceeds to list out the varying blows and strikes necessary to knock them out. This is done at the very beginning as he infiltrates Blackwoods ritualistic killing grounds and again later during an underground boxing match. A Game of Shadows succeeds in expanding upon this, with an introductory fight flashing images and heightened sounds in place of a methodical breakdown. Holmes later gives a detailed breakdown but is interrupted by Zimza’s throwing knives midway through its execution. Lastly, his mental projections are turned against him, as Moriarty recognizes it and begins his own list of counters and blows until Holmes realizes his ultimate defeat. These scenes are a clever combination of the often overlooked fact that Holmes was an excellent fighter in addition to his wealth of knowledge. Deductions on the opponents status and likely responses, as well as their time of recovery, are medically detached. This matches Holmes’ approach to not just criminal cases but interpersonal matters.

Humor in the 2009 film came from dialogue between Holmes and Watson and the formers manic energy when moving around the scene. From his thinly contained panic at the presence of Irene Adler, to shutting down when Watson proposes a meeting with his soon-to-be-fiance, Mary Morstan, Robert Downey Jr. does a phenomenal job portraying Holmes in all of his eccentricities. A Game of Shadows continues this but tends to rely on greatly exaggerated scenarios. Holmes crossdresses in order to infiltrate a train; his brother walks around fully naked despite the presence of Mary; Holmes drives an automobile of his own design, and has a fear, or distrust, of horses to the point that he rides a miniature one. Due to A Game of Shadows’ reliance on an excess of the strange, the humor fails to capitalize on the success of the first. Even the dialogue, one of the greatest assets of the original, is jeopardized by a recycled conflict.

In Sherlock Holmes (2009) the primary conflict is the mystery regarding Blackwood’s return from the dead and his end goal. The secondary conflict is that Watson is moving in with his future-fiance Mary. Holmes does not want this to happen but can’t outright say it because to do so would be to acknowledge his attachment to Watson. In Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows the primary conflict is the mystery regarding Moriarty’s bombings and his end goal. The secondary conflict is that Watson is marrying and leaving on honeymoon with Mary and Holmes does not want this to happen but can’t outright say it because to do so would be to acknowledge his attachment to Watson. While the primary conflict differentiates itself by playing on international tension in Europe and the inevitability of the first world war, I cannot forgive the recycling of tension underlying Holmes’ and Watson’s relationship.

At the end of the 2009 film, Holmes regifts Irene Adler’s stolen gem to Watson as an engagement ring. This serves as both an apology for causing Watson to lose the original one during the case and as his blessing in regards to their union. However in A Game of Shadows it is reverted back to Holmes complaining about how Watson is making a mistake in marrying Mary. It is as if the filmmakers could not come up with another secondary conflict. They could have centered it around Holmes’ self-destruction during his obsession with Moriarty and Watson’s attempts to stem the tide of mortality threatening to consume Holmes. Or they could have evolved the Watson versus Sebastian Moran angle they so desperately wanted to play into but potentially left open for a undeveloped third film. Instead we retread a conflict solved by the first, something that really sullies sequels and other Sherlock adaptations. Star Trek: Into Darkness was criticized for retreading Kirk’s stubbornness, and by the fourth season of the BBC’s Sherlock series people were tired of Holmes constantly teetering between an asshole and caring about those around him.

Matching RDJ’s manic portrayal of Holmes is the soundtrack to the 2009 film, which has a cohesion and energy to it that creates a wonderful album that frequently drives my focus when working or writing. Each track has a recurring reliance on violin and piano for its core sound. One of my favorite pieces of trivia regarding the soundtrack is Hans Zimmer’s quote, “We rented 20th Century Fox’s underground car park one Sunday and did hideous things to a piano.” Tracks vary between rise and falls of volume, with the opening track “Discombobulate” being the greatest example as the opening features a few light notes before a sharp change to bombastic orchestra. Another standout is “Not in Blood, But in Bond” which accompanies a slow-motion, audio-drained scene of a dock being blown apart. The drab violin solo gives way to a mournful orchestra to accentuate the emotion of the scene.

While Hans Zimmer returns for A Game of Shadows the full soundtrack features too many tracks that simply do not fit the mood of the rest. The opening three tracks form one long theme and acts with the intention to usurp “Discombobulate”, as the introduction is nearly the same. However, instead of an instant jump into bombast, it is a long, drawn out process with some crescendos that crash like waves in and out. “Tick Tock” is the standout for this album, as it patiently builds and builds until it finally breaks into a full on sprint forward, spilling its energy into the next track. Unfortunately, “It’s So Overt It’s Covert”, “Romanian Wind”, “To The Opera!”, “Two Mules for Sister Sara”, and “Die Forelle” cause such confusion as to the overall tone of the soundtrack that it derails the quality.

A successor to “Not in Blood, But in Bond” is seen in “Zu Viele Füchse Für Euch Hänsel” which plays during a great sequence in which our heroes are attempting to escape Moriarty’s forces in a forest. The framerate frequently slows down to showcase bullets destroying the surrounding trees. An inspired section within this sequence shows the camera moving in unison with the positioning, loading, and firing of a large artillery gun. This camera movement plays into the soundtracks transference of energy from the film into the audience by transforming the camera from a still observer to active participant. Sadly small glimmers of high quality such as this cannot save the otherwise mundane sequel.

Irene Adler’s insertion among the conflict of the first film, as both an interested third party and clever way to lean into Moriarty for the sequel, was wonderfully done. She brings about a panic in Holmes when she first appears, with her legacy as making an “ass” out of Holmes twice. Such a strong character with a unique relationship with Holmes has such potential that it was a shock to see her removed so early on in A Game of Shadows. I understand the reasoning behind it though, as killing Irene both establishes Moriarty’s cruelty and capability given her status as a beloved figure in both our and Holmes’ hearts and her history of beating Holmes at his own game, twice. The scene itself is evocative, as Moriarty causes the entire restaurant to exit upon his cue and kills Irene via poison despite her request for a fresh batch of tea to be served in place of what was awaiting her. Causing the exit of one strong character to establish the arrival of the villain is effective, but the impact doesn’t have much weight beyond the initial shock. Moriarty’s intent to harm Watson establishes his cruelty on its own and his capability is shown via a misdirection when Holmes goes to the opera instead of the hotel wherein a bombing compounds the already present anxiety between European countries. New character Zimza subs in for Irene but fails to deliver anything close to the performance of Rachel McAdams.

Most of A Game of Shadows feels rushed and lacking much thought. The removal of Irene Adler early on makes a good initial impact emotionally but lacks any depth upon further reflection. Holmes gives his life, but that sacrifice is cheapened by a final reveal. While I understand the necessity behind having to show Holmes alive for a still-undeveloped third film, it removes any emotion of his sacrifice to eliminate Moriarty out of fear for Watson and Mary’s life. Disguises are overdone instead of subtle, the soundtrack frequently undermines itself, and some character interactions just fall flat. A conflict between Holmes and Watson is recycled, the humor continually fails to do anything clever, and while Moriarty proves to be a sinister and entertaining antagonist, it doesn’t save the movie from failing to continue the success of the first. Sherlock Holmes (2009) is an excellent adaptation of Holmes and Watson in their comradery, in Watson’s own capability separate from Holmes, in the exemplification of Holmes’ combat prowess, and as a mystery with supernatural leanings that turn out to be scientific in nature. Given more time I do believe a third film could be great, I just wish A Game of Shadows was better than it is.

#Sherlock Holmes #A Game of Shadows #Robert Downey Jr #Jude Law #Guy Ritchie #Criticism #writing

6 notes · View notes

queerveluv · 6 years ago

Text

A queer analysis of "Wish Tree”

Link to official MV

Link to MV with English subs

Link to director’s cut of the MV without the song

(Warning: Spoilers! Watch the MV first if you don’t want to be spoilt!)

Does the MV for “Wish Tree” make for good queer representation? Or is it queerbaiting? (Hint: I am completely biased as an RV stan.) On one hand, it takes queer love very seriously, elucidating the heartbreak when one’s feelings are unreciprocated. On the other hand, it reinforces the trope that queerness is a tragedy, that queer people don’t deserve happiness, that queer stories only exist to be edgy, especially through a shock ending. And the sappy lyrics only add salt to the wound. But I loved the MV and found it was a deeply meaningful representation of the adolescent queer experience. Here’s why.

The MV initially presents a platonic (if not ambiguous) homosocial friendship between two women, until it becomes increasingly clear that character that actress Lee Joo-young plays (henceforth “JY”) has more-than-platonic feelings for the character that actress Baek Soo Hee plays (henceforth “SH”) but struggles to articulate them. All this occurs to the accompaniment of the lyrics, which express the addresser’s Christmas wish to always be with the addressee no matter how many winters have passed, with clearly romantic connotations. In the penultimate scene, they watch the Japanese film Love Letter (1995) together and JY looks at SH desperately, unable to say anything. Afterward, JY and SH are making Christmas wishes and JY looks troubled again. Suddenly, the song pauses and SH asks JY what she wished for, stating she wishes to spend next Christmas with a boyfriend. Stunned, JY replies that she wishes not to spend next Christmas with SH. At this point, the song finishes its last line reiterating the addressee’s wish to always be together and the MV ends.

At first, I was like, “wow typical sad ending for queer people but yay superficial representation but also it’s a Red Velvet MV so you can’t criticize it.” And then I read the lyrics of the song and watched the MV again. And to my surprise, I suddenly found myself overwhelmed by sadness, knowing the twist ending that was coming. By the end of the MV I was a disheveled mess with a pile of soggy tissues in front of me. And I’ve never even cried at any romantic tragedy before! (I’m far more likely to be rolling my eyes.) What happened?

The “Wish Tree” MV is not melodramatic in the least. There was nothing to suggest JY’s more-than-platonic feelings were the reciprocated, unlike the many hetero-romances out there about a match made in heaven that, alas, was simply not meant to be in this world. Instead, it was the sheer mundanity of the narrative that resonated deeply with me as a queer person. It likely never even occurred to SH that JY might be queer—that her statement might constitute a painful rejection to JY. I imagined JY as a queer adolescent woman without access to any queer communities or resources (this is not uncommon in Korea and a fair assumption within the context of the MV), struggling to make sense of her intense feelings for her best friend. SH might well be the only person she has been this close to, felt this way for. And yet her feelings were shut down in the most oblivious, nondescript way possible. After all, don’t (straight) girls tell their bffs about their wish for a boyfriend all the time? What could be more mundane than that?

And yet, to JY, the message is clear: not only does SH not consider JY a romantic possibility in a way she does for men, she sees no issue openly expressing her dissatisfaction that she is spending her Christmas with JY and not her hypothetical boyfriend through her wish not to repeat this next year. She implies that JY is sorely inadequate for her as a same-gender, markedly non-romantic partner, and yet in the most innocuous way that does not require her to register that intention, given how socially normalized it is. “Wish Tree” is meaningful to me because it captures the mundanity of queer erasure. This is the point that JY is confirmed to be queer for the viewer beyond doubt--that the video offers queer representation--and it occurs through JY’s experience of hurt and erasure.

And due to the pervasiveness and mundanity of queer erasure, JY would not even be able to fully understand what happened. She would not have the words for it. She would be left heartbroken without really knowing why, let alone what to do. And when you can’t express your hurt, then you can’t get closure. You can’t heal from it. It remains unresolved and buried, affecting you deeply for years to come. Heteronormative society won’t recognize your pain, because within the logic of compulsory heterosexuality, nothing melodramatic, nothing eventful, nothing warranting sadness, has happened at all. SH was just expressing a mundane sentiment every “normal” girl does.

This is what makes the MV such an ingenious juxtaposition against the lyrics of the song. It sets up our expectation that the MV will be yet another sappy Christmasy love story like every other heteroromantic Christmas song out there, just gay. That’s nice and all, but it’s not very meaningful. And then, just when we anticipate the characters will finally confess their love for each other, the twist ending comes out of nowhere and hurts like a fucking BITCH. We are stunned, lost of words, in the same way JY is. The final bit of the song hits especially hard because it now conveys a double meaning: both the intensity of JY’s unreciprocated what-the-hell-do-I-do-now feelings and the nonchalance of the hetero-romantic lyrical narrative towards the fact that JY cannot attain the love it celebrates as a queer woman. Through this, the MV tells us that JY’s pain is real and deserves a voice, deserves not to be erased, even if it seems mundane, even if she doesn’t have the words to explain it.

I don’t need queer representation to be happy to be meaningful--although queer people do deserve happy representation. More than that, I want queer representation to reflect on the queer experience, including its negotiation of societal queerphobia and queer erasure, in a poignant, realistic, and relatable manner. One of the qualities many great lesbian coming-of-age novels share is the depiction of ambiguous homosocial-homoerotic friendships between young girls who don’t know how to describe what they’re feeling, and as a result, don’t know how to process the pain when these friendships eventually crumble under compulsory heterosexuality and internalized homophobia. The “Wish Tree” MV powerfully captures this experience through its ingenious use of a shock ending, which in most cases of queer representation would leave a bitter aftertaste, juxtaposed against the unassuming lyrics of the song.

Huge props to director Jeong Minseo for this brilliant fanmade MV, and to SM (I reaaaally hope RV had a say, but also let’s be real, Irene would not have said “Wish Tree” is one of her favorite RV songs if not for the MV) for choosing it as the winner of the Winter Garden League contest.

#red velvet #wish tree #irene #seulgi #wendy #joy #yeri

9 notes · View notes

koalaaquabear · 7 years ago

Text

My Long, Mature, Spoiler-Filled, Annoying, Critical, Analytical, Angry 2am Review of MS:WAF... PART 1

Sidenote: I had watched this beforehand, but I watched again to take some notes. Also I got very angry during this, but I actually loved the episode!

-Aww Jess' giggle -OOOOO new blujay studios thingy! -Sidenote: Irene literally plays like ZERO PART IN THIS EPISODE but is somehow in opening scene and is the FUCKING THUMBNAIL bitch you ain't special. -This was the concept art that Jason tweeted! I pay attention, honey. -Change course dumbass! -Agent R you idiot! "They won't shoot yet" Of course they're going to shoot, get into the fucking cabin! Why are you even on the deck? Nobody is manning this boat's controls! -WHAT DID I JUST SAY? THEY. ARE. GOING. TO. SHOOT. -How the hell are they missing every single shot, the fuck? They're like freaking Stormtroopers. -Ah yes, move towards the bullets. -Is Michael Bay on the Blujay team? -Wait, what about the other guy? Is there a crew that you just left behind to drown/burn to a crisp? What the hell is happening? -Okay it is literally impossible that he hasn't been shot, his boat was crossing DIRECTLY THROUGH BULLETS. -Ah yes, boat mechanics. That's how it works. Abso-looney. -YEET -Well, there goes the animation budget. I'm gonna go watch MSS4 Ein vs Aaron fight scene to redeem this. -Also, he was lying on the ground for long enough to get aim and fire. Who the hell did they hire for the Guardian Forces and why are they terrible at their jobs? Almost as terrible as Zack is at being a father oooooo too soon? No, fuck you Zack it's never too soon. Sorry I got emotional, continue. -AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHA HIS EARS ARE THE SAME COLOUR AS HIS HAIR AHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHA also shit he's a werewolf. -He says 'for me?' like really flattered like "Oooo they didn't forget me and my very important suitcase!" -Wait did he say go? It sounded like no..? I'm gonna assume it was go. -AHHHH HE hAS A LITTLE CURLY TAIIIIIL! -Oh shit, this place got ransacked. -Agent R literally just said ransacked :O I read minds. -GF... GF... huh. Ok. I'll play your games, Jess, but just know that I don't like it. -OKAY so the Guardian Forces came in, the gang had to "Fight for our lives to get out", and Garroth has not a scratch on him, and nobody seems to be dead. How plausible is this? Not. Not at all. But, I said I'll play your games Jess... continue... -Actually scratch that the Guardian Forces are terrible at their jobs so the fact that he isn't injured is absolutely plausible. -Evacuated inland? Who's genius idea was that? Probably Derek's. Coward. -The only reason they can't see you, Garroth, is because they literally have their eyes covered by annoying and unnecessary helmets that no army force should be wearing. -Werewolf strength+potion strength=Garroth can singlehandedly kill most of these guys. -Don't worry about the guns, guys, they have no fucking idea how to use them. -Rookie? I mean sure the guy can't even USE A GUN but y'all didn't know that. He could've been quieter, but he was JUST turned into a werewolf and probs can't control his strength. Idk I'm spiraling. -"Kid" because he isn't Guy Fieri. -Landing like that directly on your legs, without being like a trained gymnast, will most likely injure you to the point where you can't run like you are right now. But hey, that's none of my business. -None of the force decided to stay outside to guard it so they couldn't escape? They keep proving my point of being dumbasses. -Ah, a peaceful panoramic to disguise what just happened. -Those things on the poles look like Travis' shirt hahahahahha. -Is that Aphmau? Ah, the camera is now following her, and she is wearing purple. t is Aphmau. -How did they get that photo? -Ooo everyone's trapped! -Searching the island, but still can't recognize this black haired, amber eyed girl with a purple choker on, the same girl in the photo with their main suspect... These fucking imbeciles. -HOW DID THEY GET ALL OF THOSE PHOTOS!? "Acquired photos" That just so happen to be the most SPECIFIC photos. Like if it was passport photos or drivers liscense or social media, like that I could get, but these are literally impossible, especially the close up of Derek. If they were secretly taking photos, they wouldn't be able to get one from that close up. Funny how this random thing makes me upset. -Why are they both southern? Well, why not I guess. -Mysterious alley? Must be getting money for her drug dealer, -Skip Ad. -Why does it say "thanks for watching" before even the halfway mark? I'm somewhat confused by that for some reason. -Not drugs, secret apartment, okie dokes I like this better. -Of course Zane is being a whiny bitch. -"Safety" is a very flexible word, which is all that you need to know about this conversation. Also that this is apparently now The Maze Runner? I don't know either. -The Guardian F? Just call it the G-Force, like that movie with the guinea pigs and that blind mole who are secret agents. That would make for a much funnier video lol. -That was much longer than it needed to be. That convo did not need to be on screen either, but whatever, it was a really cute friendship moment. -DOES HE HAVE A CHAIN ON HIS JEAnS!? -What is that? -Thou may not have lighting. Well, nevermind, turns out they do have lighting. -How does no one know they're here? -That's the worst map ever. -AWWWW LUCINDA'S OUTFIT! -Oh they haven't looked here yet? You're telling me that there is a huge search out for the Lycan family, and they havene't even MADE IT TO THIS AREA YET? -Okay you won me back with Aaron's smile. -Why are they moving systematically? How small is this task force? How big is starlight? I need numbers people! -So they have a fleet around the island, but no more people to storm the island and actually find the people? Get more people then, call in a SWAT team? Is the Guardian Force even a government approved task force? If they aren't, why are they allowed to shut down a HUGE resort? If they are, how come they don't have A) People who can shoot. And B) Enough people to actually search properly for the people they're looking for? So many unanswered questions! -No Aaron. -No! Say no Derek! -THANK YOU! There are so many holes in this plan! -ALrighty Lycans, you need to step back because NEITHER OF THOSE WILL WORK! Moving inland will corner you, Derek, but transporting your entire group will get you caught, Aaron. What you need to do is figure out their patterns. Move systematically, somewhat like they are, and not in one place for too long? You are stuck in the perfect storm, and none of these options will work, but if you think you can just move inland, away from the GF, you are dumb, but you also can't move all together. -New idea, get guns and shoot at them, because no matter what, they can't shoot back. Because they suck. A lot. I'm still salty. -The thing about being fugitives, Aaron, is that YOU HAVE TO RELOCATE EVERY TIME THEY GET CLOSER! -No it is not. -How about you plan ahead Derek? Why are the women not speaking up, Lucinda probably knows her shit. -DEREK YOU ASSHOLE LISTEN TO AT LEAST A BIT OF WHAT YOUR SON IS SAYING~! -They were both wrong, but I probably would have to agree with Aaron? He's right, move too far inland and you'll run out of places to hide. -Finally a casual Kawaii~Chan. -Nobody knows it's you, Aphmau, or you woulda been taken in. -Dammit Garte. -IT DOES GARTE, YOU WERE PART OF THE MICHAEL THING! -YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT NOW, SO SHUT THE HELL UP! -STOP YELLING AT YOUR WIFE, SHE IS RIGHT! -You cannot be a pessimist right now, Garte, it is not the time. Be there for your son instead of bitching about it. -Well, I guess Garte has 0 loyalty for anyone but his family. -You are interrupting, but thank Irene I was about to slap him. -How much money do they have on them? -STOP BITCHING ABOUT EVERYTHING GARTE! -He's so selfish, what the hell! -Green does not accentuate blue, Zianna. -Flirting gets him to shut up! Hazah! -OH MY GOD I SWEAR I OWN THAT OUTFIT! -Oh shit, that is bloody. How come she is injured, but Garroth and most of the others aren't? -Melissa modesty is not needed rn. -Skip Ad. Also JAX! -Is Zane's hair different? -Everyone always forgets that Garroth isn't the only Ro'Meave. -And then the acid kicked in. -Zane Ro'Meave triggered something. -Aww cuties! -That is not sugar, it is 100% cocaine. -Aww that's sweet. -It's called boosting morale, bitches. -"Eh" Does not mean it didn't go too well, it means that the Lycans are dumbasses. -Yeah, and failing miserably. -No gunshot wounds? Who the hell are these people? -"Hun" aww that's cute. -Garroth=best character -ROWANADNSANSNAJD -What is in the case? -The boat defied laws of physics. -That was a cute reunion, now let's ruin it. -Tons of techies, absolutely TERRIBLE strategy. -No they haven't, and even if they did, nothing would happen because MICHAEL YOUR TASK FORCE SUCKS! -Ok ok I get it, so they don't have full access right? Which means that they do not have a warrant. Which means that they aren't legal. Which means that they DO NOT HAVE THE RIGHT TO GOOSE CHASE THROUGH ONE OF THE LARGEST THEME PARKS EVER... right? -Michael actually doesn't care, apparently, about catching the guy who betrayed him, or about the Ultima case. He just holds thousands of people hostage on some islands for fun! -He is right! Don't take this Toby, fite him! -Fucking Cyborg walks in, just casually, just as you do. -Michael, that's not how time works. -What are they doing? What? Huh? -AND END EPISODE. Wow okay.

#aphmau #mss6 #spoilers #mystreet season 6 #when angels fall #this was very long #i apologize

44 notes · View notes

greekprodigies · 7 years ago

Text

Why Shows Like Insatiable Are So Toxic, Despite Their Intentions

As a teenage girl who has only recently grown out of watching Disney Channel, it was safe to say I was intrigued when Netflix released the teaser trailer for their new 12-episode series Insatiable, starring Debbie Ryan, who played the title character of Disney’s Jessie for four seasons. It was a 30-second clip of Debbie Ryan in a hot pink dress, walking down a junk food aisle at a colorful grocery store, smashing everything on the shelves with a sledgehammer. Ryan’s voiceover says, “I’ve heard stories of girls who grew up happy and well-adjusted. This is not that story.” My first thoughts were, based solely on this teaser, that the main character seemed to be the villain, or at least a girl with a grudge. And, based off of this girl’s seemingly bad relationship with food, I also figured it would portray fat shaming in a way that most popular television shows don’t. I was hoping that Netflix would take their power over the teenage demographic and show a perspective that strayed away from the (respectable and still necessary) insecure overweight character still coming to terms with her own body (i.e. Kate from This Is Us or Rachel from My Mad Fat Diary). A perspective that I, an overweight high school senior who has already been through the ringer of despising my fatness, could relate to.

It’s obvious, in retrospect, that I was thinking way too deeply into a vague half-minute teaser video. I had gotten my hopes up. Those hopes were soon diminished when the official trailer was released

The video starts off with Debbie Ryan in a fat suit (I’ll get to why that is so grossly offensive later), introducing herself as Patty and showing her constant struggle as a victim of bullying and fat shaming at her high school. Her classmates (who seem to all be thin) call her “Fatty Patty”, and go so far as to spray paint it on her locker. Irene Choi, who plays Patty’s cruelest offender, is shown shouting “Porky! Butterball!” through a megaphone in the cafeteria, pointing to the main character. Then, after what seems to be a fight over a chocolate bar with a homeless man, Patty is punched in the face. Her voice-over tells us, “Having my jaw wired shut lost me more than just my summer vacation.”

Enter Patty 2.0. She’s the sparkling image of every chubby girl’s dream weight after she watches a show like this and vows to cut off carbs. No stretch marks, no cellulite, nothing that reflects what somebody’s body actually looks like after losing a large amount of weight in such a short period of time. The trailer escalates to a montage style of clips of Patty slapping, punching, and even pouring liquor onto some of her classmates before lighting a match.

It feels like a fantasy that’s trying to be relatable. That’s telling us that every bullied teenager, who’s frontal lobe isn’t developed enough to have a lot of perspective, craves revenge from their tormentors. And it’s easy for this narrative to be confused as a realistic depiction of the experience of being a teenage bullying victim. It’s even in the news, shown in the series of article published about domestic terrorist Nikolas Cruz revealing him being an orphan and being described as an “outcast” in interviews following the Parkland shooting. Sure, Insatiable’s revenge plot is meant to be satirical the same way Dexter (which Lauren Gussis, the writer and executive producer of this show, also worked on) is, but because it’s set in a high school during modern day, Patty (possibly, based on what’s shown in the trailer) killing her classmates hits a softer spot.

In the Teen Vogue article that was released with the trailer, Gussis explains how she “felt it was important to look at [bullying] head on and talk about it.” But it’s hard to look at bullying head-on when its changed so drastically over a span of 20 years. It’s past mean nicknames and cruel but clever comments said as two characters pass in a hallway. And more recently, it’s past cyberbullying. Or, at least, the way adults view cyberbullying based off of tone-deaf shows like Glee and dramatized TV movies like Cyberbully (which stars not one, but two former Disney Channel actresses). I’ve never met a high school student who got called a slut or gay 200 times in the comment section of a Facebook post. And, if I am completely wrong due to the fact that I’ve grown up during the social media transition from Facebook to Instagram and Snapchat, that form of bullying died when the Facebook phenomenon did. It is a subtler conversation than the beautiful cool kids versus the ugly losers.The solution is simple: If you’re going to make a show based off of your experiences of bullying in the 80’s, 90’s or even early 2000’s, make the show take place during those decades. Colliding old stereotypes to a character who exists in 2018 is unrealistic and humiliating.

Intention wise, Insatiable can be easily compared to another controversial Netflix original series, 13 Reasons Why. In the warning videos that are shown before watching, the stars of the show say, “By shedding a light on these difficult topics, we hope our show can help viewers start a conversation. But if you struggling with these issues yourself, this series may not be right for you, or you may want to watch it with a trusted adult,” And this message perfectly conveys a show that’s purpose seems heartfelt but is ultimately clueless. Here we have a television program that is produced by a bunch of 30 year olds, where people in their 20’s play high school students (yes, everyone who plays a teenager in 13RW are actually in their 20’s), pretending to understand what it’s like to be a teenager as if the dynamic between young people and mental illness hasn’t changed immensely in just the past couple of years. Just in five, the use of memes and irony has shifted from simply making fun of something, to helping us cope with the fact that our world is on fire. Everybody is laughing at the jokes about depression because, since the rise of social media and the quantification of how many people like us, we all feel depressed. Suicide, though tragic, has now been boiled down to kids saying they want to kill themselves when they have too much homework. We have an education system that teaches us about the anatomy of sex but never teaches us what questions need to be asked about consent during our sexual experiences. So making a show to start a conversation about depression, suicide, and sexual assault that warns it’s targeted audience (who are constantly surrounded by these topics) that the show might not be right for them is simply irresponsible.

But, if I can counteract what I just said, 13 Reasons Why horrifically also is the only show I’ve seen that has the most correct articulation of modern bullying. That’s not to say that anything else with the show is correct, because it’s not. Perhaps what is so wrong about 13RW is that, because they focus so much on the bullying aspect of high school, it provides a direct correlation between bullying and suicide. Well, that, and the graphic/triggering suicide and sexual assault scenes that were used for shock value. Nevertheless, Hannah Baker doesn’t go home and find a bunch of Instagram DMs of her classmates called her a whore. Any secrets that Hannah’s offenders had regarding what could have led her to kill herself were events that happened IRL. And they were just that: Secrets. Because the bullies were ashamed of what they had done. Even before Hannah committed suicide, Jessica Davis didn’t just go around telling people she slapped her ex-best friend because she thought she had betrayed her.

With Insatiable, it seems like everybody in this fictional high school (except for Patty’s best friend and maybe even a popular girl with a heart of gold) is insanely okay with harassing a girl just because of her appearance. It’s insulting, both as a fat girl and an observer of modern bullying. There isn’t one school in the country where 99% of its students just allow this sort of cruelty. Because we have perspectives and opinions that (surprise!) aren’t always swayed by whatever Instagram model is trending right now. Just because Emma Chamberlain is successful and skinny, doesn’t mean that we’re brainwashed to only make skinny people successful. I’m not saying that there isn’t an institutional privilege that skinny girls have, and have always had when it comes to social acceptance. Because they do. But there’s a gray area where most people stand when it comes to issues as new and contentious as body positivity, and Insatiable is ignoring it. You don’t have to be a body-posi activist to know that making somebody feel like shit because of their weight is wrong. And I hope this show can have a character that, without having any relation to Patty, recognizes that what these bullies are doing is outrageous.

After we recognize that the intention of these shows is ultimately flawed, we can then try to take a step forward and look at the impact. 13 Reasons Why, after being loudly criticized by suicide prevention experts, broke virtually every rule of portraying suicide. And as a result, a study shows that searches such as “how to commit suicide”, “suicide hotline number” and “teen suicide” were elevated after the show’s release. The time period for the search ended on April 18th of that year after NFL player Aaron Hernandez committed suicide, which could have influenced data. And any searches related to the movie Suicide Squad were discounted. Sure, the show had increased suicide awareness, but it also unintentionally increased suicide rationalization. And I fear that Insatiable may be on the same path. Regardless of the revenge plot or the bullying, there is still a skinny actress in a fat suit portraying a fat character who only eats, sits on the couch, and feels bad about herself. Then, after a summer of not being able to eat, returns to high school skinny and composed.

Firstly, the use of a fat suit is sickly but overall not surprising. In a world where blackface and yellowface in Hollywood has only just become unacceptable, fat suits seem more defendable for skinny people who don’t understand that there are a plethora of plus size actors who could have played Fatty Patty just as well (and most likely better) than Debby Ryan with pillows stuffed up her shirt. Perhaps the show could have avoided being so oblivious to its fat-shaming storyline if they had an actual fat person weighing in on it.

Secondly, there is the characterization of fat people as losers who do nothing but eat and watch TV. If there were a time and place for these characters to exist, it is definitely not now, where the call for diversity in Hollywood is louder than ever. Plus, we’ve already seen these people before. And it’s the same plot every time. They are only created to provide a funny prequel to a supposedly more stable version of the character. “Fat Monica” from Friends and “Fat Schmidt” from New Girl show a universe where plus size people can’t be taken seriously until they shed the pounds. When in reality, fat men and women are perfectly capable of being successful in their professional and romantic lives. Ironically enough, another New Girl character comes to mind when I think of plus size characters being accurately portrayed: Emily. She’s Schmidt’s ex-girlfriend from college, who dated him when he was her “Big Guy”. After Schmidt reminisces about losing his virginity to her, she resurfaces into his life as a confident woman who goes on dates and isn’t ashamed of who she is. There even seems to be a layer to her character showing that there had been a time where she was insecure about herself and her body but has overcome them. This is an example of a healthy goal for young girls and boys who are self-conscious of their body. Not Debby Ryan’s character, who only gains confidence after losing an obscene amount of weight.

It may actually be the casting of Debby Ryan that could cause a rise in body dysmorphia in young people from watching this show. Since her face is plastered on every poster, teaser and trailer for the show, Disney Channel fans, and former fans might watch simply because she’s cast as the lead role. It’s certainly what sparked my interest in the show. And since Disney Channel’s demographic has gotten younger and younger, there’s a generation that will watch this show and not see it as fat shaming, but a way to become the person they’ve always wanted to be. Skinny, beautiful and confident while simultaneously making all of their classmates' jaws drop as they walk down the hallway. But Patty doesn’t lose weight healthily, she literally could not eat solid food. Depending on how the show addresses this, it is a possible glorification of anorexia. Just like 13 Reasons Why glorified and romanticized depression. But two wrongs don’t make a right, and anorexia and depression can not make anybody beautifully broken.

To make things clear, I am not telling you to not watch this show. And based off of the 100,000 signatures (and counting) on a petition for the show’s cancellation, none of us may even get to. But speaking as a person who fits into all of these groups, Insatiable gets everything wrong about being a high schooler, a teenage girl, and a fat person.

#insatiable #netflix #debby ryan #op ed #fatphobia #fat shaming #body positive #body posititivity #anorexia #depression #13 reasons why #13rw #suicide

6 notes · View notes