#also! Pru used to gossip with
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Realized my Bounty Hunter Leia needed a droid companion. I was a fool for not giving her one earlier. Anyway meet P- R08, Aka Pru.
#Star Wars#Star Wars au#Leia organa#Leia skywalker#mando leia#my art#also in my head I think Pru sounds like kelly macdonald#like she can’t make her own noise but if she was to talk. it would be Kelly McDonald#also! Pru used to gossip with#Beru when Leia was back home in Tatooine#🪐
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BOOKS BY ASIAN AUTHORS MASTERLIST #stopasianhate
In light of recent events and the growing anti- Asian hate in the US and UK over the course of the pandemic I wanted to put together a masterlist of books by Asian authors. Obviously, it’s not extensive and there are HUNDREDS out there, but supporting art by Asian creators is a way of showing support; read their stories, educate ourselves. It goes without saying that we should all be putting effort into reading stories of POC and by POC because even through fiction we’re learning about different cultures, countries and heritages. So here’s some books to start with by Asian authors!
Here is a link also for resources to educate and petitions to sign (especially if you don’t read haha). It’s important that we educate ourselves and uplift Asian voices right now. Your anti-racism has to include every minority that faces it.
https://anti-asianviolenceresources.carrd.co/
for UK peeps, this is a good read: We may not hear about the anti Asian racism happening here, but it is definitely happening. https://www.harpersbazaar.com/uk/culture/culture-news/a35692226/its-time-we-stopped-downplaying-the-uks-anti-asian-racism/
THE BOOKS:
· War Cross- Marie Lu ( the worldbuilding in this is IMMENSE.)
For the millions who log in every day, Warcross isn’t just a game—it’s a way of life. The obsession started ten years ago and its fan base now spans the globe, some eager to escape from reality and others hoping to make a profit.
· Star Daughter- Shveta Thakrar
A beautiful story about a girl who is half human and half star, and she must go to the celestial court to try to save her father after he has fallen ill. And before she knows it, she is taking part in a magical competition that she must win!
· These Violent Delights- Chloe Gong (I told my little sister to read this book yesterday bc she has a thing for a Leo as Romeo- so if you want deadly good looking Romeos, badass Juliet’s and to learn about 1920s Shanghai- this is for you.)
The year is 1926, and Shanghai hums to the tune of debauchery. A blood feud between two gangs runs the streets red, leaving the city helpless in the grip of chaos. A Romeo and Juliet retelling.
· The Poppy War- R.F Kuang (My fave fantasy series just fyi- it’s soul crushing in the best way. Rebecca Kuang is a god of an author).
A brilliantly imaginative talent makes her exciting debut with this epic historical military fantasy, inspired by the bloody history of China’s twentieth century and filled with treachery and magic, in the tradition of Ken Liu’s Grace of Kings and N.K. Jemisin’s Inheritance Trilogy.
· Loveboat Taipei- Abigail Hing Wen (Really heartwarming and insightful!)
When eighteen-year-old Ever Wong’s parents send her from Ohio to Taiwan to study Mandarin for the summer, she finds herself thrust among the very over-achieving kids her parents have always wanted her to be, including Rick Woo, the Yale-bound prodigy profiled in the Chinese newspapers since they were nine—and her parents’ yardstick for her never-measuring-up life.
· Sorcerer to the Crown- Zen Cho (if anyone is looking for another Howl’s Moving Castle, look no further than this book)
At his wit’s end, Zacharias Wythe, freed slave, eminently proficient magician, and Sorcerer Royal of the Unnatural Philosophers—one of the most respected organizations throughout all of Britain—ventures to the border of Fairyland to discover why England’s magical stocks are drying up.
· Emergency Contact- Mary H.K. Choi (very wholesome and fun rom-com!)
For Penny Lee high school was a total nonevent. When she heads to college in Austin, Texas, to learn how to become a writer, it’s seventy-nine miles and a zillion light years away from everything she can’t wait to leave behind.
· Jade City- Fonda Lee (I am reading this currently and can I just say- I think everyone who loves fantasy and blood feuds in a story should read this.)
JADE CITY is a gripping Godfather-esque saga of intergenerational blood feuds, vicious politics, magic, and kungfu. The Kaul family is one of two crime syndicates that control the island of Kekon. It's the only place in the world that produces rare magical jade, which grants those with the right training and heritage superhuman abilities.
· A Pho Love Story- Loan Le
When Dimple Met Rishi meets Ugly Delicious in this funny, smart romantic comedy, in which two Vietnamese-American teens fall in love and must navigate their newfound relationship amid their families’ age-old feud about their competing, neighbouring restaurants.
· Rebelwing- Andrea Tang
Business is booming for Prudence Wu. A black-market-media smuggler and scholarship student at the prestigious New Columbia Preparatory Academy, Pru is lucky to live in the Barricade Coalition where she is free to study, read, watch, and listen to whatever she wants.
· Wings of the Locust- Joel Donato Ching Jacob
Tuan escapes his mundane and mediocre existence when he is apprenticed to Muhen, a charming barangay wiseman. But, as he delves deeper into the craft of a mambabarang and its applications in espionage, sabotage and assassination, the young apprentice is overcome by conflicting emotions that cause him to question his new life.
· The Travelling Cat Chronicles- Hiro Arikawa
Sometimes you have to leave behind everything you know to find the place you truly belong...
Nana the cat is on a road trip. He is not sure where he's going or why, but it means that he gets to sit in the front seat of a silver van with his beloved owner, Satoru.
· Super Fake Love Song- David Yoon
From the bestselling author of Frankly in Love comes a contemporary YA rom-com where a case of mistaken identity kicks off a string of (fake) events that just may lead to (real) love.
· Parachutes- Kelly Yang
Speak enters the world of Gossip Girl in this modern immigrant story from New York Times bestselling author Kelly Yang about two girls navigating wealth, power, friendship, and trauma.
· The Grace of Kings- Ken Liu ( One of the Time 100 Best Fantasy Books Of All Time!)
Two men rebel together against tyranny—and then become rivals—in this first sweeping book of an epic fantasy series from Ken Liu, recipient of Hugo, Nebula, and World Fantasy awards.
· Wicked Fox- Kat Cho
A fresh and addictive fantasy-romance set in modern-day Seoul.
· Descendant of the Crane- Joan He
In this shimmering Chinese-inspired fantasy, debut author Joan He introduces a determined and vulnerable young heroine struggling to do right in a world brimming with deception.
· Pachinko- Min Jin Lee
Richly told and profoundly moving, Pachinko is a story of love, sacrifice, ambition, and loyalty. From bustling street markets to the halls of Japan's finest universities to the pachinko parlors of the criminal underworld, Lee's complex and passionate characters--strong, stubborn women, devoted sisters and sons, fathers shaken by moral crisis--survive and thrive against the indifferent arc of history.
· America is in the Heart- Carlos Bulosan
First published in 1946, this autobiography of the well known Filipino poet describes his boyhood in the Philippines, his voyage to America, and his years of hardship and despair as an itinerant laborer following the harvest trail in the rural West.
· Days of Distraction- Alexandra Chang
A wry, tender portrait of a young woman — finally free to decide her own path, but unsure if she knows herself well enough to choose wisely—from a captivating new literary voice.
· The Astonishing Colour of After Emily X.R Pan
Alternating between real and magic, past and present, friendship and romance, hope and despair, The Astonishing Color of After is a novel about finding oneself through family history, art, grief, and love.
· The Gilded Wolves- Roshani Chokshi
It's 1889. The city is on the cusp of industry and power, and the Exposition Universelle has breathed new life into the streets and dredged up ancient secrets. Here, no one keeps tabs on dark truths better than treasure-hunter and wealthy hotelier Séverin Montagnet-Alarie. When the elite, ever-powerful Order of Babel coerces him to help them on a mission, Séverin is offered a treasure that he never imagined: his true inheritance.
· When Dimple met Rishi- Sandhya Menon
Dimple and Rishi may think they have each other figured out. But when opposites clash, love works hard to prove itself in the most unexpected ways.
· On Earth we’re briefly Gorgeous- Ocean Vuong
Poet Ocean Vuong's debut novel is a shattering portrait of a family, a first love, and the redemptive power of storytelling.
· Fierce Fairytales- Nikita Gill
Complete with beautifully hand-drawn illustrations by Gill herself, Fierce Fairytales is an empowering collection of poems and stories for a new generation.
BOOKS BEING RELEASED LATER THIS YEAR TO PREORDER:
· Counting down with you- Tashie Bhuiyan- 4th May
A reserved Bangladeshi teenager has twenty-eight days to make the biggest decision of her life after agreeing to fake date her school’s resident bad boy.
How do you make one month last a lifetime?
· Gearbreakers- Zoe Hana Mikuta- June 29th
Two girls on opposite sides of a war discover they're fighting for a common purpose--and falling for each other--in Zoe Hana Mikuta's high-octane debut Gearbreakers, perfect for fans of Pacific Rim, Pierce Brown's Red Rising Saga, and Marie Lu's Legend series
· XOXO- Axie Oh- 13th July
When a relationship means throwing Jenny’s life off the path she’s spent years mapping out, she’ll have to decide once and for all just how much she’s willing to risk for love.
· She who became the sun- Shelley Parker-Chan- 20th July
Mulan meets The Song of Achilles in Shelley Parker-Chan's She Who Became the Sun, a bold, queer, and lyrical reimagining of the rise of the founding emperor of the Ming Dynasty from an amazing new voice in literary fantasy.
· Jade Fire Gold- June C.L Tan- October 12th
Two girls on opposite sides of a war discover they're fighting for a common purpose--and falling for each other--in Zoe Hana Mikuta's high-octane debut Gearbreakers, perfect for fans of Pacific Rim, Pierce Brown's Red Rising Saga, and Marie Lu's Legend series
Keep sharing, signing petitions and donating where you can. The more people who are actively anti-racist, the better. And if your anti-racism doesn’t include the Asian community then go and educate yourself! BLM wasn’t a trend and neither is this. We have to stand up against white supremacy, and racism and stereotypes and we have to support the communities that need our support. Part of that can include cultivating your reading so you’re reading more diversely and challenging any stereotypes western society may have given you.
Feel free to reblog and add any more recommendations and resources of course!
#stopasianhate#books by asian authors#anti racism#i'm so sickened by everything that's happening and i hope that this list does encourage people to read books by asian authors!!!#ya#poc authors#fiction#i haven't all of these yet#asian writers#asian authors#masterlist#antiasianracism
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So I know you don't really write PRU things but how about PRU averting? Like when Newt starts to realize something is wrong he goes to Hermann for help?
this isn’t exactly what you wanted (at all) but the concept for this fic has been making me laugh all week. sometimes a bitch just wants to write a slightly unhinged jealous ex hermann unknowingly seducing aliens out of newt
safe for work except for some makeouts and implied past banging, but hermann tries very hard for it to not be. also ive definitely written similar plots before but who cares
—————
They send a ranger-in-training to break the news to Hermann. He’s not sure what they expected him to do, really, or how a teenager in oversized khakis might have prevented it in the first place. Rage? Cry? Break things? His relationship with Newton Geiszler has been highly publicized at this point, he supposes, down to every last gory detail; their scientific rivalry, their heated laboratory debates, their–er–rather dramatic love affair, which ended on a deeply sour note when Newton packed his bags and left Hermann for better funding and a swanky flat with more windows than walls seven years ago. As far as gossip is concerned, that is.
“Tomorrow?” Hermann says.
The ranger nods and says nothing. She’s awfully young–too young, Hermann thinks. And awfully afraid of him. Right, of course: he’s crotchety, daft old Dr. Gottlieb, notorious for his short temper and avoidance of socialization at all costs. He furrows his brow an appropriate amount and nods, as if to appear deeply consternated, or perhaps lost in brooding abstraction. “I see,” he says. “Hm. That wretched Dr. Geiszler, here, after so many years. The nerve of him. Thank you.”
The girl doesn’t move.
“Ah,” Hermann says. “Dismissed, I mean.”
Between the bare bones staff and Hermann’s incredibly low rank back in Hong Kong, he still hasn’t quite gotten used to the notion that he has things like interns and underlings again, let alone people who–when sent to deliver him a message, or paperwork, or lab equipment he submitted forms for–need to be explicitly dismissed to leave his presence. Newton would love it. Or, at the very least, he’d love teasing Hermann for it. (Control freak, that was what he’d call Hermann.)
Back in the safety and solitude of his private laboratory, Hermann brews a fresh pot of tea and mulls the news over. It’ll hardly be the first time Newton’s set foot at the Moyulan Shatterdome. It’ll hardly be the first time Hermann will have seen Newton since the Events of seven years ago, either. It will, however, be the first occasion on which the two collide: Newton always seems to schedule his routine Moyulan visits when Hermann is tucked safely away in some conference or council in some other bloody country, leaving their paths to cross at the most inane social events, banquets and fundraisers and black tie occasions that leave Hermann stifling under his collar and his leg aching from the strain of standing for so long.
Their words to each other in such situations have always been terse, brief, polite. Newton, after all, is a very important (and very rich) man these days, and he has plenty of elbows to bump and high society buggers to flatter without Hermann getting in his way. It’s pleasantries, is all. Lovely to see you, Dr. Geiszler. How’s work, Dr. Geiszler? The champagne is excellent, isn’t it, Dr. Geiszler? By Jove, it’s maddening. Just once Hermann would like to shout and snap at him like the good old days, to grab hold of that stupid bloody tie and shove him against a wall and kiss him, or bite him, or do anything that isn’t smile and pretend to care when he mentions that–that Alice floozy he’s shacking up with. And now, with Newton finally giving Hermann a window to meet in his own territory…
Hermann keeps a small volume of Newton’s early research on his desk–compiled long before he even knew the man–and he takes it out now, slipping a well-worn polaroid out from between its pages and propping it against his tea mug. Newton smiles out at him. “Horrible little man,” Hermann says, lovingly, and gently brushes his index finger against that handsome face.
He feigns a stomach bug to clock out of work early–fooling no one, of course, but his staff chalks it up sympathetically to the prospect of seeing his notorious ex tomorrow and says nothing–and makes a mad dash into town for a haircut and manicure. After some consideration, he pops into a clothing store for a new button-down, too. A nice one. One that fits him well. (You have a hot bod, dude, Newton would always say, you should be flaunting it.
No, no raging, or crying, or breaking things. It’s been seven years since Newton walked out on Hermann for a cushy job and designer suits, and Hermann has exactly one course of action in mind: winning him back.
——
Newton is not exactly as Hermann remembered. The changes in him are noticeable, and–for the most part, barring the loss of his glasses and personal sense of style–Hermann feels entirely neutral about them: hair more neatly tamed, stubble more neatly shaved, body ever-so-slightly more toned. Hermann seems to recall Newton saying something about CrossFit or some sort of damned exercise bike he bought at the last banquet they attended–lost ten pounds this past month! New Year’s Resolution, you know, ha, gotta stay in shape for Alice (and this was the point at which Hermann clenched his champagne flute so tightly it burst, and he excused himself to find a napkin with which to tend to his bleeding and a tall glass of whiskey from the open bar with which to tend to his agonies). Whatever it is, it seems to be working.
He manages to lure Newton out from under the thumb of his boss with vague claims of research, though Newton is not happy about it. “I got shit to do, man,” he complains. His eyes are inscrutable behind his expensive sunglasses. “It’s just not a good time. Busy, busy, busy, you know.”
They’ll have the laboratory to themselves, even more so than usual. I’ll need to have a few private words with Dr. Geiszler, Hermann had ominously announced to his staff that morning, and they’d all looked at each other in excitement. An infamous Geiszler-Gottlieb row! Hermann locks the door behind them.
“You poor dear,” Hermann says. “Running yourself ragged. You must be exhausted.”
Newton shrugs. “I am a little. I guess.” He shrugs again, and this time preens a little with it. Good: Hermann wants him nice and flattered. “It’s hard work being as important as I am, you know.”
“I imagine,” Hermann coos sympathetically. He brushes his hand across Newton’s shoulders, then nudges him at the small of his back towards his desk. “Please, Newt, I insist you have a seat. Would you like some coffee?”
“I mean, if you’re offering,” Newton says, waving him off.
The instant coffee is located on the middle shelf of Hermann’s bookcase, between a dusty variety box of Twinings and an elaborate kaiju action figure Newton left in their apartment when he walked out. Hermann spoons some into a chipped blue mug and watches Newton through the man’s reflection on the kettle. He leans back in Hermann’s desk chair; he rolls his shoulders; he pops open a button on his maroon suit coat; he spies something propped up on Hermann’s desk, and picks it up. The polaroid. Hermann ducks his head to hide his smile.
“Good times, huh, dude?” Newton says. He waves it in the air.
“Mm,” Hermann says.
He hands the mug of coffee over to Newton, who’s yet to put down the polaroid. Milk and plenty of sugar. Exactly the way Newton always used to take it. “There we are, dear,” he says. “Are you hungry? Might I get you anything to eat? I’ve plenty of biscuits, and, er...” He casts a guilty glance around the mess of his workspace. “...Oranges.”
“No thanks,” Newton says, but it’s vague, unconvincing. His eyes are locked on the photograph. “Good times,” he repeats.
“Nothing to eat at all?” Hermann says.
Newton shakes himself. “Nah,” he says, and pats his stomach. “On a diet. You know, for Alice.”
Ah, of course; Alice. The mystery woman Hermann despises the very existence of. For years after Newton first broke the news to Hermann he was seeing someone new, Hermann used to pour over magazine articles and gossip sites for even a glimpse of what she might look like (and for the chance to do something cathartic, like crop her angrily from a photograph with Newton or scribble over her face with a Sharpie). Probably horrendously ugly; possibly blonde; undoubtedly lacking taste, and humor, and any other sorts of qualities a mate worthy of Newton ought to possess. At the very least, Hermann knows she isn’t at all supportive of Newton in the way she should be. Every banquet and fundraiser, she’s too busy to come, every dinner invitation Hermann finally accepts so he may properly hate the woman, she must cancel at the very last minute due to some strange illness or another.
Privately, Hermann thinks she feels threatened by him. As she should be. He and Newton have been in each other’s heads, after all, wrote letters in their youth, shared a laboratory for years, shared a bed for longer than that. It’s a simple fact one will ever know Newton like Hermann knows him.
“Of course,” Hermann says, with icy kindness. “For Alice. How is she these days? I was ever so put out when she caught–what was it–influenza, yes, that night we were meant to dine together. And the time before that, with pneumonia. And laryngitis before that. Terrific bloody coincidences, aren’t they.”
(Sorry, dude, Newton said over the phone, not sounding very sorry, but rather quite distracted. She was probably in the room, egging on his lies. She's sick. Can’t see you after all. Rain check?)
“Yeah,” Newton says. He’s started to shake his leg up and down, a nervous tic Hermann is all too aware of, seeing as he’s picked it up himself after their drift. Along with an annoying tendency to hoard sentimental rubbish. “Coincidences. If I’m being honest, Hermann–I’m not too keen on you two–well.” A strange look crosses his face, replaced in a blink of an eye with a toothy smile. “Old flame and the new flame, it’d be awkward for everyone, y’know?”
“Especially for her, I’d imagine,” Hermann says, and then he swings himself down into Newton’s lap.
Newton goes very still; the photograph slips from his fingers and flutters to the floor. “Hermann?” he squeaks.
Dropping his cane, Hermann nuzzles his face into the crook of Newton’s neck and breathes deeply; the Newton of his memories smells of burnt coffee and the sharp tang of preservation chemicals, but the Newton of now smells more of expensive cologne than anything else. Hermann can’t say he likes it much, but he presses a small kiss there anyway, marveling at the lack of the scratchy stubble he remembers so well. “What–what are you doing?” Newton says.
Another kiss. Hermann slips a hand up to caress Newton’s jaw, and Newton shivers. “I should think it’s obvious,” Hermann says. “Mm. Come on, now, love, I know I can’t be the only one of us who’s been aching for this.”
“It’s,” Newton stammers, “I,” and his sturdy fingers grip Hermann’s waist, though he makes no move to shove him away. In fact, he only draws him closer. Marvelous. “I’ve got–someone, dude,” he says, gazing at Hermann between heavy eyelids. “Alice. I have–”
Hermann kisses him, pouring into it every ounce of longing he’s felt for the last seven years, and Newton melts against him with a moan. “But does she make you feel the way I do?” Hermann murmurs.
“Uh,” Newton says.
He swipes his tongue into Newton’s mouth, enjoying the sharp jolt that shoots through Newton when he brushes against his own tongue, and pulls back with a small bite at his bottom lip. Newton always liked when Hermann kissed him messily. “Do feel free to touch me,” he says.
Newton does: one hand leaves Hermann’s waist and inches up his side instead, pausing to shove one half of his lab coat off, then the other. The coat slips to the floor as well. Newton splays five fingers over Hermann’s right pectoral. “Nice shirt,” he says, sounding rather dazed. “Good color on you.”
“I’d hoped you like it,” Hermann says happily. “Remember what you always used to say, about flaunting it? I thought it was time I’d take your advice.”
“I do,” Newton says. “I do remember. Ha.” His face splits into a grin, one of the first truly Newton-esque ones Hermann’s seen on him in years, and Hermann feels a small flare of triumph. He catches the hand at his chest and draws it to his mouth, brushing a kiss over the knuckles. Newton’s tattoos, vibrant as ever, poke out from beneath one maroon sleeve.
Hermann remembers kissing those tattoos. He remembers tracing the shape of red-yellow waves with his fingertips, of pinching the eyes of the great kaiju splashed across his chest, of teasing Newton for his rather unadorned arse and how pale it was in comparison to the rest of him. You’re one to talk, buddy, Newton would say, and he’d deliver a playful smack to Hermann’s, all skin and bones, dude, I think I bruised my hand. He used to like to keep his glasses on in bed so he could see Hermann. Make sure it’s actually happening, he’d say. His sunglasses are folded uselessly on Hermann’s desk. “I could make you so loud,” Hermann says. “We’d get noise complaints. Remember?”
Newton nods, eyes fixed on the knuckles Hermann kissed.
“I knew exactly where to touch you,” Hermann says, dropping his voice, “and how to touch you. I still do, Newton.” Newton dissolves into whimpers when his neck is kissed, a certain spot by his left thigh pressed on with a thumb; when being made love to, he likes his sides stroked, fingers pressed against his tongue; when doing the love making, he likes his hair pulled, nails raked across his back.
“Please,” Newton says, his voice cracking. “Can you–?”
Hermann shoves that ugly maroon jacket to the floor, then winds that ugly tie around his fingers and gives Newton a sharp tug. Newton moans, twice as loud as before. “Yes, darling, of course.”
They kiss, Hermann making quick work of the buttons of Newton’s shirt, Newton seemingly too shy to do anything beyond grip Hermann’s shoulders. A pink blush is spreading from the tips of his cheeks down to his neck. It’s very sweet. “Hermann,” he says.
“Mm?”
Newton wets his lips. “You like when I do this,” he says, and gives Hermann’s ear a little tug.
(They’re so big, Newton would say, it’s adorable, you’re adorable, and Hermann would swat him away, but then Newton would kiss the shell of his ear, bite his earlobe, and Hermann would gasp, and sensitive! Newton would say, adorable, absolutely adorable.)
“They’re sensitive,” Newton says. “You like when I kiss them.” He grins again, though it slips away after a moment. “I think they’ll be looking for me soon.”
“You are so terribly important, after all,” Hermann says. “It’s a very good thing I’ve locked the door. I haven’t finished having my wicked way with you yet.”
This time, Newton laughs, though it’s an uncertain little thing. “Listen,” he says, strangely urgent, and he squeezes Hermann’s arm. “Don’t let me leave, okay?” Then he shakes his head. “Actually, no. Take me home with you. Away from–from work. And Alice. Yeah. Let’s go now.”
This is unexpected, though Hermann cannot deny it’s not exactly what he hoped would happen when his foolproof plan of seduction worked. He’s suddenly very pleased he made a few more stops after picking up his new shirt: first for a very expensive bottle of wine and the makings of a dinner the Newton of ten years ago loved, the next a rather discreet one for the sort of supplies they’d need to, er, take this one step further. “Oh, yes,” Hermann says. “Oh, darling, absolutely. Er–now now?”
“Now,” Newton says. He plants a series of discoordinated, rapid-fire kisses across Hermann’s mouth and chin. “Now,” he repeats. “Keep talking to me.”
“About what?” Hermann says, frowning.
“Anything,” Newton says. “And touch me. Keep touching me. Hermann–when we get there, I have to tell you–”
“Alright, Newton, alright,” Hermann says. He did forget how needy Newton could get. He’s also missed it. He strokes back some of Newton’s neat hair, gropes around for his cane, and eases himself to his feet with a small groan. (He’s not quite as young or agile as he used to be.) Newton immediately springs to his own feet and latches onto Hermann’s arm. He's not merely needy tonight--a bit on edge, too, it seems. “Off we are, then. Be a dear and get my coat for me.”
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Gossip Girl?
Batfam Week Day 6 is Paparazzi! And I’ve come to the realization that I like writing about pictures? It’s ok, please enjoy all the dirt Babs has on the Bats. Can also be found here on my ao3. Rating: PG Words: 1,558 Gen
The almighty, all-knowing Oracle knew that “information broker” and “well-informed gossip” were synonyms. Sure, information brokers had data on things like bank accounts and security blueprints but otherwise it was much the same. She knew all the dirt on any given League member or villain. You wanted to know where George Clooney was going on vacation this year? It was to Monaco with his wife, they were staying at a friend’s house there. The last time the Queen of England had eaten a burger? Two Thursdays ago for lunch, it was medium rare with ketchup, onions, and a pickle on the side.
As any good gossip did she kept tabs on her friends. Dinah often just gave Babs her stories freely, over coffee and cake, as the two friends had a long history of talking about their lives. Regardless, she had a file filled with reviews of the band Black Canary, tabloids about Dinah and Oliver’s relationship, and business articles about Sherwood Florist and the boxing gym she ran with Ted Grant.
Her files on her fellow bats? Now that’s were things got really interesting. Being Bruce’s unofficial PR department Babs was tasked with keeping the public from realizing that the Waynes and friends were secretly Gotham’s vigilantes. Not an easy job. Especially when they all kept on insisting on doing ridiculous stuff in front of cameras.
The file on Jason was smaller than the rest. Mainly consisting of articles about his adoption and paparazzi pictures from when he was younger. Though since his return and a slight mend in his relationship with the family he had been returned to the public eye under the rouse of being Cass’s personal bodyguard. Not that she needed one, just that they got along the best and Cass was more than happy to get Jason to help her make trouble with Steph, Harper, and sometimes Tim at events. It gave Babs a migraine just thinking about it.
The newer stuff on Jay mainly consisted of him flipping off the camera, a charming trait he’d passed along to Stephanie. There were quite a few from galas that showcased his left hook being used on a CEO who had tried to grab Cass. Those Babs smiled at whenever she came across them. A few were of him dancing with his sister or helping make mischief. Being caught spilling drinks or slipping food into pockets. A particularly amusing photo consisted of him and Steph sipping champagne and failing to look innocent. She sometime used this as one of her screens wallpaper because it always made her giggle.
The other smaller files all belonged to the bats who weren’t also Waynes. Steph, Luke, Harper, and Duke all broke just about even thanks to their own antics and known friendship with the Waynes. Much of Luke’s was on his company and family. A few were candid ones of him working out in the park or at a gym. Her personal favorite was when a paparazzi caught him at some gala eating a piece of cake and accidentally smearing icing on his nose.
Comparatively Duke and Harper’s consisted mainly of gala photos and other Wayne Foundation events. Duke also had articles on Bruce taking him in while Harper had conspiracies on “Which Wayne was she dating?” They also had a handful of pictures taken from when they were hanging out in Gotham with some of the other kids. Including one that was of them, Steph, Cass, Tim, and Jason all flipping off the photographer.
Stephanie’s file was certainly the most colorful thanks in part to her longer time as a vigilante. There were articles on her father and Spolier’s attempts to stop him. Many a tabloid on her relationship or lack there of with Tim. An amusing blog post speculating if she was actually Bruce’s illegitimate child since she always seemed to be with them. Steph herself was rather proud of that one. Babs’s headaches came from the plethora of pictures that accompanied all of them.
There were all the ones of her flipping the bird, a sweet smile on her face as her middle finger rested against the tip of her nose. Steph at the mall with Cass and Harper. Steph at an ice cream parlor with Tim and Cass. Steph with her arms linked between Jason and Dick, the older boys not trying to kill each other as she tugged them towards a movie theater, with the other kids in the background. Steph and Damian at the park, the animal shelter, the book store, the craft store, some coffee shop. Steph and Cass causing trouble in formal wear at a gala. Steph stealing drinks from an unsuspecting waiter at a gala. Steph with a shocked expression as she “accidentally” trips Brucie at a gala. The list was endless.
Babs swore that the youngest Batgirl sought the paparazzi out just for the sake of causing rumors. She was nearly as bad as Dick when it came to telling purposefully ridiculous stories about the family. His file was the second largest after Bruce’s, filled with roughly two decades worth of attention from the media. Everything from reviews of Haly’s Circus and talk of the Flying Graysons to his adoption by Bruce Wayne to his enrollment and eventual graduation from the Bludhaven Police Academy were contained within it.
A favorite stunt of his was to use parkour and his acrobatics to avoid the cameras, meaning that they just got shots of him doing ridiculous things in gravity defying places. Babs had given him way too many lectures for him to still be doing it and yet, the file was full of them. There was also the ones of him at the galas, some with a beautiful girl as his date and in many that was Babs herself. There were tons of him with Tim or Damian at the arcade or videogame store. Those always made her happy, Dick really was a good brother.
For being so young, Damian’s file was rather large. There was all the press that surrounded his appearance. Some genuine articles, including a few by Clark and Lois who had been asked to help, some just insane gossip and conspiracy. The pictures on the other hand were a mix bag of outings with his siblings and Alfred, walks with Titus, him and Bruce at galas, and the ones that made Barbara’s life difficult. The threatening glares at socialites, the pranks with Steph at events, a near fist fight with Jason. The one she had to delete any trace of was when he was waving a steak knife at Tim and Dick had to hold the two boys apart.
Tim’s file always made her sigh. Half the time he was trying to do his own image damage control and it just messed her up. There was all sorts of things on the Drake family and Tim and then Tim getting adopted and the mess that was him taking over WE and Tam being his “fiancée” or whatever. She still didn’t fully grasp how Tim managed that situation. His pictures were calmer but their locations not just Gotham. There were loads of him and Steph and him and Cass. Quite of few of him and Dick too. In all he looked exhausted but happy. There were literal tons of him going and coming at WE, always in a suit with coffee in hand. The more exotic ones were of his globetrotting for the company and cases. These held Tam, now known officially has his assistant, and Pru, her official position that of bodyguard. Sometimes they featured Cassie, Bart, and Kon who would visit him and the four would have mini vacations together. In all, pretty tame and Babs didn’t bother until Tim got himself in another mess regarding WE.
Cass’s file was probably the most entertaining. She was wrapped in mystery whenever the press talked about her, due to her not speaking for many years and her penchant to give reporters the slip. Whenever photographers did catch her she always saw them and would pose. There were hundreds of ridiculous Cass faces at all sorts of events. The one she and Babs both decided was the best was one of her dancing with Bruce at some gala, she had spotted the camera and given it a toothy grin and a little wave from behind Bruce’s back. Babs had sent this to Bruce and knew he had printed two copes and framed them. One sat in the study at the manor and the other on his desk at WE. Cass knew and loved that too.
Bruce’s file was the biggest one that Babs managed. If you could call it managing. At this point Bruce was so good at turning Brucie on and off all she had to do was put the latest photos in. Some though were just downright embarrassing. Him dropping ice cream on himself as the boys argued, an outfit that looked like it had been chosen in the dark, and about a thousand others. Some days she picked the best and sent it out in a mass text to everyone. Bruce didn’t like her on those days but the rest of the family certainly did.
It was nice being Oracle. She never lacked for good stories and she especially never lacked for good blackmail material.
#batfamweek#dc comics#writing#own writing#my fic#barbara gordon#jason todd#luke fox#duke thomas#harper row#stephanie brown#dick grayson#damian wayne#tim drake#tam fox#pru#bruce wayne#batman#the batgirls are better than you#love dinah laurel lance#batbros#know your birds
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John Hopkins University Gender Clinic 1950-1979 Timeline
1950-1966
Around 1950 - Lawson Wilkins set up a new pediatric endocrinology clinic - doctors recognized that doctors could not tell a person’s sex just by looking at external genitalia, and in some cases recommended to the child and parents that the child’s sex be reversed. [Intersex people, for example.]
Milton Edgerton became Chief of Johns Hopkins first division of plastic surgery in 1951. Shortly afterwards he met his first transsexual: “When I went in to see the patient, who was in every outward appearance female, I began to get the request for the removal of male genitalia, and if possible, the construction of a vagina”. Patients had gone elsewhere and the surgeries oftentimes out of the country and they had been awful
John Money, who wrote his PhD thesis on hermaphrodites (the term then in use), was recruited in 1951 also by Lawson Wilkins to be professor of pediatrics and medical psychology at the newly formed Psychohormonal Research Unit (PRU) in the Pediatric Endocrinology Clinic at Johns Hopkins University. Teamed with Drs Joan and John Hampson he spent six years studying 131 intersex persons, children and adults, who had been treated at Johns Hopkins. They found persons with identical genitals and chromosomes but raised as the other gender fared equally well psychologically. On this basis, Money recommended that an intersex child be steered to a chosen gender, which was usually female as the surgery was easier, but it must be done within the first two and a half years, and that the child must not be confused by being told. Their paper won a prize from the American Psychiatric Association* in 1955. Soon afterwards, the Hampsons left to take up positions at Washington State University.
In 1958, circus performer Hedy Jo Star, after a couple of years on female hormones, presented at Johns Hopkins Hospital. The doctors in the PRU examined her for five days and then sent her home to await a letter. Three months later the letter advised her not to go ahead with surgery as she had no internal female structures. [Only interest in intersex individuals, not transsexuals.]
At about the same time however, the doctors evaluated a female-to-male patient, and in 1960 did a bilateral mastectomy on him.
In 1960 The Joneses left their private practice to become full-time faculty. Howard started doing ‘corrective’ surgery on intersex infants. Money became the director of the PRU in 1962 when Lawson Wilkins retired and died shortly afterwards. Money was awarded considerable grants by the National Institutes of Health*, and was also subsidized by wealthy trans man Reed Erickson (who also subsidized Harry Benjamin and Vern Bullough). John Money attended monthly meetings in New York with Harry Benjamin and Richard Green under the auspices of Reed Erickson’s EEF, [where the idea was raised of applying the kind of surgery being done on intersex patients to transsexuals as well.]
In 1961 Roberta White arrived without an appointment and managed to obtain an interview with John Money who admitted her for three weeks for detailed evaluation.
In 1964, a 17-year-old transsexual referred to as G.L. who had been convicted of stealing women’s clothing and $800 worth of wigs [was ordered by the Supreme Bench of Baltimore City to have sex reassignment surgery at Johns Hopkins.] Her probation officer delivered her to the Johns Hopkins Women’s Clinic where Howard Jones was to do the surgery. However the psychiatry department intervened at the last moment, and had G.L. referred to them for therapy instead.
The next year John Money pioneered the first Gender Identity Clinic in the US. He brought three postoperative patients of Harry Benjamin to meet with Howard Jones and Milton Edgerton. This was the same year that the Joneses with Edmund Novak published their gynecology textbook. That would go through several editions and in its time outsell all other such textbooks combined. Reed Erickson donated $85,000 to the Gender Identity Clinic over years, and became quite friendly with John Money. In addition he went to Johns Hopkins for a double mastectomy repair in 1965 after having had a mastectomy in Mexico and a hysterectomy in New York, and is arguably the first transsexual patient at the Johns Hopkins Gender Identity Clinic.
However the first patient is usually taken to be an African-American referred by Harry Benjamin, Phyllis Avon Wilson who was operated on by Howard Jones at around the same time. Phyllis became a dancer in New York, and on Oct 4, 1966 a gossip column in the New York Daily News carried the item: “Making the rounds of the Manhattan clubs these nights is a stunning girl who admits she was male less than a year ago and that she underwent a sex change operation at, of all places, Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore.”
This caused Dr Edgerton to get a phone call from Dr Russell Nelson, president of Johns Hopkins Hospital, to find out if the story were true. Edgerton made a tactical decision and gave an exclusive to The New York Times, which ran the story on the front page on Nov 21, 1966. A press conference was called on the same day, where Edgerton and several colleagues announced at a press conference the establishment of the Johns Hopkins Gender Identity Clinic under the chairmanship of plastic surgeon John Hoopes. [To an audience of 100 reporters, the doctors defined transsexuals, “physically normal people who are psychologically the opposite sex”, explained that “psychotherapy has not so far solved the problem”, and that they had already operated on 10 patients, all of whom were happy with the outcome. Three were already married, and three more were engaged.]
This was the same year that Harry Benjamin’s The Transsexual Phenomenon had been published. Shortly afterwards, the Universities of Minnesota, Stanford, Northwestern and Washington at Seattle (headed by John Hampson) also opened Gender Identity Clinics.
Within a year, over 700 desperate transsexuals wrote and implored the doctors at the Johns Hopkins Clinic to help them. [However the Clinic would approve for surgery only those whom they unanimously deemed to be ‘good candidates’. They devised four criteria: Is the patient a candidate for psychotherapy? Is the patient authentically motivated? Is the patient psychotic? Will the patient undergo a sociocultural crisis after receiving the operation? This left much room for the doctors’ opinions, and they often chose to err on the side of wait-and-see, recommending therapy rather than progressing a patient on to surgery.]
Dr Hoopes, the chairman, recalled that [Money was often the advocate for progression: “John Money would argue very forcefully that someone was a candidate ... that he knew the patient very well and if this program was going to make any headway this patient should be accepted.”] Not surprisingly, many of the patients did not want to see a psychiatrist. This was based on previous experience with psychiatrists, in that it implied that they had a mental problem, and that they knew within themselves that what they needed was surgery. Most patients soon realized that they should read the medical literature about transsexualism and impersonate ‘textbook transsexuals’ if they wished to be progressed to the next stage.
However the doctors were willing to consider patients with what was described in 1968 as “inadequate social and moral judgment and a long history of petty and sometimes major criminal offenses”. This included transvestites, gay men and strippers, many associated with The Block, a part of downtown Baltimore with many nightclubs, bars and sex workers. The doctors realized that their patients were at risk of arrest for cross-dressing and so issued identity cards with a Johns Hopkins phone number provided by The Erickson Foundation. Dr Edgerton had several calls from police officers, and after an arrest in 1971 helped to get a female transsexual transferred to the women’s facility. Some patients dropped out during the stage where they were taking hormones. In some cases this was because they could not afford the $2,000 to $10,000 for the surgery.
1966-1979
Psychiatrist Ira Pauly had published the first aggregation study of transsexual cases in 1965, “Male Psychosexual Inversion: Transsexualism. A Review of 100 Cases". This resulted in a job offer from Johns Hopkins, but, after a pay rise, Pauly decided to stay at the University of Oregon Medical School.
One-year-old Bruce Reimer was brought to see Dr Money and surgically reassigned to female as Brenda in 1967, and continued annual visits for almost 10 years, until Brenda began to refuse, and started to change back to male as David.
The same year Barbara Dayton moved to Baltimore with wife and children, and started living as female. [The Clinic declined her application based on age, appearance and numerous tattoos. Also Barbara could not afford the fee.]
The most prominent patient in the Gender Identity Clinic was writer Dawn Langley Hall who had surgery in 1968, married an African-American the next year, and publically announced the birth of a daughter in 1971 (a claim that the Gender Identity Clinic said was “definitely impossible”).
In 1968 the Gender Identity Clinic provided surgeon Stanley Biber with diagrams on how to do sex change surgery. Renée Richards met with John Money, but at the end was told that Johns Hopkins was not accepting any more transsexual patients at that time.
In 1969, transsexual pioneer Christine Jorgensen came to Johns Hopkins for corrective surgery. Future showgirl Michelle Brinkle ran away to Baltimore intending to register at the Clinic, but never did, and ended up at Dr Burou’s Clinic in Casablanca instead. Psychiatrist Jon Meyer became chairman of the Gender Identity Clinic, and his predecessor, John Hoopes wrote: “The surgery, often considered outrageously excessive and meddlesome by the uninformed, must be undertaken regardless of the censure and taboos of present society”. Also in 1969, Richard Green and John Money co-edited Transsexualism and Sex Reassignment, with a preface by Reed Erickson, an introduction by Harry Benjamin, and published by Johns Hopkins University Press.
[John Money conducted a follow-up study of ‘17 male and seven female patients’, and found that after surgery nine patients had improved their occupational status and none declined. “Seven male and three female patients married for the first time” and “All of the 17 are unequivocally sure they have done for themselves the right thing”.]
In 1970, Dr Edgerton left for the University of Virginia, where he established a Gender Identity Clinic, and Dr Hoopes returned to Johns Hopkins to replace him as Chief of Plastic Surgery. Dr Meyer started his own study of the benefits of surgery.
[In 1972 future doctor Dana Beyer, then a student, came to the Clinic but found the intake application so off-putting that she fled before seeing a doctor.]
In 1974, 23-year-old future intersex-cum-HSTS activist Denise Tree (Kiira Triea) had surgery with Dr Howard Jones after years of therapy from Dr Money.
[In a paper with John Hoopes, Meyer wrote: “Most of the patients continue to be emotionally and socially much the same as they were in the pre-operative phase”.]
In 1975, Catholic psychiatrist Dr Paul McHugh became head of the Psychiatry department at Johns Hopkins. He later wrote that [he intended from the start to put an end to sex change surgeries which he described as “the most radical therapy ever encouraged by 20th-century psychiatrists— with perhaps the exception of lobotomies.”]
In 1976 Charles Annicello from the clinic testified in a New Jersey court on behalf of M.T., a trans woman who was suing for alimony. Louis Gooren, who would develop the Gender Clinic at the Vrije Universiteit in Amsterdam, studied at Johns Hopkins in 1976, as did Russell Reid who later became a consultant at Charing Cross Hospital.
The Joneses retired from Johns Hopkins in 1978, and became professors of obstetrics and gynecology at Eastern Virginia Medical School, where they established the first in vitro fertilization program in the United States.
[In 1979, (the same year that Janice Raymond published the transphobic The Transsexual Empire) psychiatrist Jon Meyers and co-author Donna Reter reporting to Paul McHugh, finished their evaluation of fifty post and pre-op patients they saw as still deeply disturbed. “To say that this type of surgery cures psychiatric disturbance is incorrect. We now have objective evidence that there is no real difference in the transsexual’s adjustment to life in terms of jobs, educational attainment, marital adjustment and social stability,” he said. He later told The New York Times, “My personal feeling is that surgery is not a proper treatment for a psychiatric disorder, and it’s clear to me that these patients have severe psychological problems that don’t go away following surgery.” He even referred directly to “one case”, probably Reed Erickson, “In which a woman required hospitalization for drug dependency and suicidal intentions after being changed to a man.”
John Hoopes also changed his mind: “Prior to the surgery, these patients were at least male or female, but after the surgery the males converted to females weren’t really females and the females converted to males weren’t really males. . . You’ve created a new breed. You’ve created something you don’t know what to do with. … I never saw a successful patient. For the most part they remained misfits”.
The Meyer study has not been supported by later studies. Its methodology has been strongly criticized, especially the vagueness of some of its scoring, and that it does not include any measure of personal satisfaction. None of the post-operatives regretted the operation (as Meyers and Reter acknowledged). However, citing the study, the hospital administration closed the program.
The Johns Hopkins program was never important in terms of numbers, in fourteen years they provided surgery to only thirty people (compare to Dr Biber who would do many more than that every year), but in that it was the first clinic it was felt as a loss when it closed.
Even so, Johns Hopkins' reputation was such that transsexuals continued to apply to the Hospital. They were seen in the Sexual Behaviors Consultation Unit at $150 a time, but no referrals for surgery were made after 1979.
John Money stayed at the PRU, even after 1986 when it was moved to smaller premises outside the Hospital.]
https://zagria.blogspot.com/search?q=john+hopkins#.WUfySevyvDc
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Drama Centre Audition (hard work pays off)
It's been a while since I've posted about my audition experiences, so here goes, I hope you're ready... I recently had my Central audition which left a bit of a clouded sky on the day of the tube strike and then I had a positive audition at Arts Ed but to no avail. Yesterday however, I had a bit of a break through. Coming back home from being on tour was tough; attempting not to regain bad habits, sleeping patterns or unproductiveness. My effort level wasn't what it should have been before my first auditions of my FOURTH YEAR of auditioning for drama schools. But I'm still here, I'm still persisting and that says something. So after a couple more knock backs, I revved myself in to gear and worked my socks off- re-working my monologues, performing them for other people and finding the spell inside them once more. This paid off, and yesterday I got recalled at Drama Centre! Nine of us were asked to stay back to be redirected on our speeches from 6 panels of approximately 10. I was shocked to be the only one from my group, but over the moon to be able to work with the panel in a more intimate manner. What was great about the new audition layout was we could use auditionees as the other characters, which was useful for my contemporary speech. It made it easier to connect and respond to a physical being as opposed to a wall. We warmed up as a group in front of the panel, which was led by a first year student, Pru, who also lives with one of my good friends in second year. This created a positive energy in the room and a 'ready to work' atmosphere, which really supported me going first. My speeches for the panel (actor Julia St John and actor/director Tom McClane) went well (Juliet- "Gallop apace" and Anna- The Angry Brigade) but they were quite relaxed and fairly slow in pace, this brought out more of the sensual side to my Juliet monologue and a nice sense of truth to Anna, however I wasn't sure if it was enough to see me through (I'm never fully content)! But I was wrong, and there my name was, pinned to the studio door! The recall was a wonderful experience; I got to work with Julia again, alongside director Jonathan Humphreys. We started the workshop with animal studies based on our classical pieces, where I played with the concept of being a lioness. I was later questioned why I chose a lion for Juliet, where I added that I wanted to play more with the sensual, seductive and raunchy, if you will, side to her. We gradually eased in to our animalistic qualities from 1-10, then explored what our animal would do in response to an itchy bottom or if one of the other animals had a rotten odour. It was a great exercise to use your body and instincts without being too much inside your own head. After the animal exercise, we worked on each of our Shakespeare pieces in turn. I felt as though I'd had a real workout mentally and physically afterwards; it was a thoroughly beneficial and uplifting experience! We played with the speech in many different ways: gossiping up-close and personal with the audience (I held a rather close eye contact which the other auditionees and the panel!), then the same concept but to a wider audience, also looking at the darker, more gothic ideas in the speech 'and when he shall die, cut him out in little stars' and then the bratty little girl who isn't getting what she wants. Throughout all of these explorations, I discovered an energy like no other which came from a more urgent approach; I want Romeo and I want him now! The monologue became more specific and open, and I really squeezed as much out of the speech as I could; I really hope it was enough. After this round, we were expecting a final list to go up to see who had made it through to interview stage, however all 9 of us were seen for a chat. I had somewhat prepared for my interview, thinking about obvious questions they might ask like, what are you up to in life right now? (I talked a bit about my professional work, NYT, work, short films) Why do you want to be an actor? ("I suppose the cliché answer would be that I love acting, but I've been thinking about this a lot recently and I just love people, people watching, they fascinate me. Just being here today and observing everyone; I want to be able to build characters from people, and what better way to learn and do that than at Drama school?") I think I answered those to the best of my ability, however I was thrown a little off guard when Julia asked me who I admire and why. My brain froze; there are tons of actors I admire, and she'd asked me with such life behind her eyes, that I really wanted to give a good answer. I suppose I was truthful, I said that it sounded rather apt, but Emilia Clarke (she trained at DC) and because she is quirky, she has a personality and she's a bit different to the average performer. I just think I could have given a much more intellectual answer, I guess I didn't want them to think I wasn't well educated in my 'arts world' knowledge, which I know needs improvement. They thanked me, I was free to leave and I was told I will receive one of the following three within a week: * thank you but no thank you * an audition offer or offer for another course * A final recall day at DC Whatever the outcome I am just so pleased I actually finally got to work with some practitioners on a speech; I'm fed up of speaking to blank walls and getting nothing out of it. At least I have taken a lot from the day, gained some well needed confidence back and hopefully the experience I had will support me in my auditions to come! I'll leave you with a quote from Jonathan Humphreys when he spoke about performing a monologue: "It's a figure of eight, giving and receiving with the other imaginary person" (They give you something, you respond, you give them something, they respond etc; you have to create this world).
#audition#actor#drama school#drama school audition#Drama Centre#Acting audition#positive#recall audition#Drama Centre recall#Juliet#The Angry Brigade#James Graham#Shakespeare#Julia St John#Jonathan Humphreys#Tom McClane
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In Addition...
Part of the Gatsby project was writing our own poem and explicating our work.
And so…
“The Pru-phobic Epidemic” by Gabriella Nicole
Why is it written the way that it’s written?
I find that quite important.
Why am I me,
Why am I so observant?
I’ll tell you what I am,
Cowardly.
I’ve never met anyone more afraid of the truth
Than me.
I stay behind so I don’t bother anyone.
But maybe I’m just overthinking
And missing all the fun.
And if anyone cares for it, the explication paper:
I chose the epigraph from one of Juliet’s many monologues in Romeo and Juliet (Act 3, Scene 2) because Juliet is speaking to two characters: the black of the night and her love, Romeo. In my poem, Myrtle is also speaking to two characters: Tom and Wilson. The modern English translation of this epigraph is:
Hide the wild blood fluttering in my cheeks
With your black robe until unfamiliar love grows bold
And believes that enjoying true love is really a modest act.
Come, night! Come, Romeo! You’re my light in the night.
You will lie on the wings of night
Even whiter than freshly fallen snow on a raven’s back.
Wilson could be compared to the black of the night because black is a negatively associated color and Wilson does not make Myrtle happy. Tom could be compared to Romeo because he is the one Myrtle truly loves, and he is her “light in the night”; he brightens up her life even though she is stuck with Wilson. Myrtle similar to Juliet in the way her love is forbidden and she dies.
Myrtle, as Juliet, could be saying, “I must hide my blushing cheeks until my relationship with Tom grows stronger and since true love is modest and Tom is the one I truly love, my actions are modest.” The line saying “you will lie on the wings of night” would mean that all of Tom’s actions would done close to Wilson; it’s actually ironic because white represents purity and there is nothing pure about his actions.
In the first stanza, Myrtle is speaking to Tom. She is telling him to come to the Valley of Ashes and take her away. “Like an addict and his drug” pertains Tom’s addiction to cheating, and Myrtle, his mistress, is his drug. The leather seats of his coupe “tell” Myrtle that she’ll have a good night, meaning that as long as she’s with Tom she’ll have a good night. Myrtle doesn’t want to return to Valley of Ashes though she has no choice; she sees it as a “penniless hell.” Boisterous means loud, unscrupulous means showing no morals, and revile means to criticize in an angry manner. These are characteristics of an untamed child; also, alcohol can cause the drinker to display these characteristics. Alcohol can also bring someone to an unfaithful feeling, causing them to cheat on their spouse. Myrtle tells Tom not to ask, “Who do you think we’ll see?” because in chapter two of The Great Gatsby, Tom and Myrtle sit in different train cars due to the “East Eggers” who ride the train.
The refrain of this poem is meant to be sexist. Because cars were a relatively new invention in the 20’s and racism and sexism were prevalent, it is a stereotype that women shouldn’t know anything about cars and that they are a virile subject.
The black fog that slithers through the road represents a melanistic (all-black) Ratsnake, and vice versa. I chose the color black because that would be the color of the smog that floats through the Valley of Ashes. It “coils its body atop the black of the moon” meaning that it rests above the moon at its new stage. The black fog delights in the struggle of its prey, the poor people who work the Valley of Ashes. It “condones the destruction in the construction” meaning that it accepts and supports the destruction of not only the earth that new buildings causes, but of the humans that construct it. Due to lack of safety regulations, many men died during the construction of cities. It slides by Michaelis’ place and bares its teeth because though he meets no demise, he is still a victim; it only bares its teeth, it doesn’t bite. The fog is made aware of the warm July night and settles upon the post of a porch.
Two words might stick out the next stanza: “honey” and “space.” In “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” does not address anyone, he simply says “there will be time”; however, I wanted Myrtle to use the term of endearment because she is still speaking to Tom. I initially planned on using the word place but changed it to space because space indicates a time and a place. She tells Tom there will be a time and a place for the smog of the Valley of Ashes, to hide all the whiskey he’s not supposed to have in this time of prohibition—though those bottles have probably touched the lips of his colleagues because the rich had alcohol, and to destruct morals and relationships and build new ones, just like city buildings. She tells him there will be space for “all the trophies and flowers of East Egg”; these trophies and flowers not only represent the numerous trophies Tom has won the flowers that decorate the interior and exterior of his mansion, but Daisy, too. Daisy is basically Tom’s trophy wife; he uses her for display because if he truly loved her he would be faithful and, Daisy is named after a flower. Daisy holds and drops Tom’s heart just as he does hers because she is cheating on him, too and his heart has been chilled because he is selfish. “A million pieces of dough” represents Tom’s money. I chose “million” and “dough” because he is a millionaire and dough is a euphemism for money. The “blows” represent Tom’s insults and his abuse of Myrtle. Bordeaux is a French wine and while they might not have drunk this specific type of alcohol, it represents everything they did drink. She tells Tom there will be space for all these things before they leave for the cheap apartment party in the city.
Myrtle tells Tom there will be a time and a place to figure out how to leave Daisy and to untangle the web of lies they’ve both weaved. On page 167 of The Great Gatsby, Wilson tells Myrtle she can fool him but she can’t fool God because God sees everything; at this point he knows about her affair. On page 30, Nick describes Myrtle as wearing a “spotted dress of dark blue crêpe-de-chine” when he first sees her. “How do I leave to caress the face of happiness?” replaces Prufrock’s “Do I dare disturb the universe?” Myrtle is questioning how she leaves Wilson so she can “caress the face of happiness”—Tom. In the end, she does leave, but not by choice. And she ends up leaving both Wilson and Tom for Death. Space will condense blows and Bordeauxs because eventually there will be so much of the two that there will not be enough time or space which means they’ll have to be crowded together to make space for more.
Since Myrtle is the wife of a mechanic, she has seen all the terrible conditions a car can be in. She has measured out her life with gifts from Tom since she gets nothing from Wilson. She knows the “withering” faces—the faces of the poor. And their call for help withers away under the roaring of the machines and tools in the Valley of Ashes. Myrtle feels desolate when she’s at home and wants to know how to feel alive inside.
When Myrtle says she has known “the hands that nail me to a bed,” she means Tom’s, sexually, and Wilson’s when he locks her in the room. “Straggling on a wrench” means that Myrtle is spread out in an untidy way not upon a literal wrench, but a wrench in her heart. She wants to know how to end the dreadful power of stress and how to end her imprisonment in Wilson’s garage, the Valley of Ashes, and unhappiness.
Myrtle says she has known the muscular, peach, and hairy arms—characteristics that describe both Tom and Wilson. She says in the darkness their arms are “relentless and scary” referring to Tom’s breaking her nose and Wilson’s shoving her up against a window. She asks, “Is it oil from an engine that causes all my tension?” meaning is it Wilson’s work that causes her emotional strain. Arms that work a tool are Wilson’s and arms that swing a polo mallet are Tom’s.
In this three line stanza, Myrtle is speaking to Wilson. On page 30, Tom says: “He thinks she goes to see her sister in New York. He’s so dumb he doesn’t know he’s alive.” So Myrtle would have told the lie before that that is the reason for her ventures to the city. On page 166, after Myrtle’s death, Tom shows Michaelis the leather and braided silver dog leash she bought for the Airedale Tom let her have. She says Wilson “blindly trusts” Tom. Even after he figured out Myrtle was cheating on him, he never really found out with who, and still had a good relationship with Tom after Myrtle’s death (before he killed himself). She is also saying Wilson is dumb.
In the next stanza, Myrtle says that she wasn’t meant to be poor and that she should have been “a clad of gold and diamond jewelry” which represent wealth. So, instead of reducing herself like Prufrock does, she amplifies herself, saying she was meant to live in the Eggs and not in the Valley of Ashes.
The “violent dancing” of the moon parallels the drunken party that happened in Tom and Myrtle’s apartment and the saxophone music played by the Negroes makes it more beautiful. Myrtle asks if she should, after all the drinking, smoking, and gossiping, bring the energy down and tell Tom that he means the world to her even though their relationship might not truly express it. She says that even after she’s lied and cheated, she’s gotten to wear a chiffon afternoon dress (described on page 35) but even despite that, she’s no flower—which again is ambiguous for Daisy. She says, “I’m no flower—I’m the antithesis,” meaning that though she has gotten all these nice things she is still, in truth, the opposite of Daisy. Father Time represents reality because no matter where one’s mind is, time is passing. It cannot be turned back or forward.
Next, Myrtle asks if she had gone to great extents to make Tom love her more, enough to leave Daisy, if any of it would have meant anything if he just ended up saying she’s not what he wants at all. Semele was one of the many lovers of Zeus, she was tricked by Hera into telling Zeus to show her all his splendor after he said he would give her anything she wanted and she died.
Myrtle saying, “God, I feel so filthy!” is ironic because she never felt remorse before, cheating on her husband and helping someone else cheat on his wife; she doesn’t feel filthy until she feels Tom doesn’t love her anymore. “…as if a bar of soap had been my therapy” means physically cleansing herself might make her feel better on the inside.
On line 111, Myrtle finally directly addresses Daisy and uses a play on words—“I will never bloom to be,” nothing she ever does will make her like Daisy or better than Daisy. She says she is not Daisy, she is just an adulteress. Licentious means unprincipled in sexual matters. Myrtle describes herself as urban because she prefers the city. She ends giving herself the title “the Hedonist,” the lover of pleasure.
Myrtle says she grows tired; tired of Wilson, tired of her lifestyle, tired physically.
The angels Myrtle refers to are the rich. They grin because they have all they need, want and more; they show off their teeth because their teeth are worth showing off. She says they’ll never sincerely grin at her, meaning no matter how close she becomes to the wealthy, she will never be one of them. She has smelled their “green and white aroma,” green represents money and white represents purity and pearls, which wealthy women, and Daisy herself, own.
The “gates of heaven” represent the gates that often guard the rich’s homes and heaven is their mansions and all they hold. Destitute means poverty-stricken. The devastatingly poor awake people those who strive for riches.
“The Pru-phobic Epidemic” is a poem I wrote to convey my feelings and relate to the character of J. Alfred Prufrock. “Pru-phobic” to me means not being afraid of Prufrock but sharing his fears. It’s an epidemic because it is not only me who thinks this way. Prufrock himself might wonder why things are written the way they’re written, why he’s written the way that he’s written. I do. I think of all the things that have happened to me so far in this year of high school and wonder how they all affect my future and what they mean. Prufrock might wonder how the women talking of Michelangelo might affect his future or even his fear of eating a peach. We all wonder at some point why we are who we are and why we’re not someone else; we wonder why good things happen to people we know and not us, we wonder why they have the things we want. I’ve realized that I have some things my friends long for, maybe the one thing that’s keeping them from being truly happy. Prufrock might wonder why another man has the privilege of being with the woman he loves and he doesn’t—even if talking to her did make a difference. However Prufrock could see himself as cowardly for not talking to her and telling her how he feels; he’s afraid of being misunderstood and maybe even afraid of the truth. We’re all afraid of the truth sometimes. So instead of risking being misunderstood, he says and does nothing, to keep himself from getting hurt… just as I do.
“The Prohibition” by John Donne relates to Myrtle’s character in the way that Myrtle wants Tom to beware of loving her. She is already married and a bit high strung. “Then, lest thy love, by my death, frustrate be, if thou love me, take heed of loving me”; Myrtle’s death will frustrate Tom’s love for her, so he must beware of loving her. He must also beware of hating her or taking out his anger on her because she could perish by it. However, he must love and hate her, which isn’t necessarily her rule. He must love her enough to keep her as a mistress but hate her enough not to leave Daisy.
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