#also hey its been a while since anyones seen georgia

[catpersonponything]

i think my ocs would absolutely kill it at the met gala

[thatkippycat]

Hey there! This is a Rocky Rickaby x fem! Or gn! Reader hc req so i hope you don't mind the specifications for the reader i have lol. This is gonna be similar to the Rocky Rickaby hc with the socialite but its more independent.

Reader probably grew up in poverty but then like, moved to america to start and worked there. Basically a fresh start, things were rocky at first but they got the hang of it. But then somehow, for some reason, reader managed to be the most successful kitty cat in america. But despite being very rich and very successful, that doesn't mean they won't have envious people or rivalries. (Or admirers, bcus y not?).

But since this is fiction, reader is girlboss and managed themselves and is still financially stable, mentally? Probably not. But that's why reader LOVES Rocky right? Even if Rocky is this poor, stupidly deranged and insane, sad cat living in his (well, the lackadaisy funded it) own car. He still treats reader as he would to anyone. Even more so if reader is an artist like him.

I also feel like reader would secretly fund the lackadaisy and be best friends with Wick or sumn (i can hear Rocky's maniacal laughing rn). Btw, sorry if this was a lot for you to take in. When i see a fanfic writer saying they're alr with specifications yk damn well im jumpin on that req button. Hands n everythin. And since this was very long you can do this later or delete it if you wanna. Oki- BYEEE <33333

Ooooo, first request. And don't worry about the length, I've got you. Anyways I present to you...

Rocky x Fem!Successful!Reader Headcanons

For context, reader is a fashion designer. Hope this is good enough. Enjoy!

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

• You grew up as a poor girl living in the streets of a small town in Italy, and it shaped a lot of your life.

• Your mother was a low paid seamstress, your father a soldier.

• When the Great War broke out, it left your family shattered.

• No deaths, but your father was never the same, and your mother followed suit after seeing how terrible he was doing.

• Throughout your life, there had only been one constant, one tiny thing that kept you afloat in the sea of misery that was your life.

• Fashion.

• You took after your mother, however you wanted to create your own designs, your own outfits.

• And so, that's exactly what you did.

• When your parents shut down, you took a needle, some thread, and whatever fabric you could scrounge up and got to work.

• Though you didn't receive much notoriety yet, you did manage to get enough money to go somewhere else.

• America was your decision.

• You moved from place to place for a while, setting up shop in Boston, New York City, Buffalo, and even Savanah, Georgia.

• All the while you kept at it.

• Your English wasn't great at first, and neither was the money you were making, but you could see it start to snowball as America's prosperity continued to ramp up.

• You moved around more, Los Angeles, Salt Lake City, Chicago, Houston, Philadelphia, all these places you called home once.

• And while you moved your designs spread. Once seen only on the back pages of a local paper, your designs were beginning to feature on the fronts of national news.

• Catalogues and catwalks galore, you built a fashion empire on your blood, sweat, and tears, and the American people loved it.

• Eventually, after a few years of back breaking work, getting citizenship, getting a company started, etc etc, you became one of, if not the most, successful cat in America.

• Sure, you didn't have as much money as the heirs of old monopolies and tycoons, but damn were you close.

• You had your admirers across the nation, as well as your enemies.

• There were more than a few men who thought they could get one over on you, and while they still despise you and your work, you got the last laugh.

• After so many years of moving from place to place, it became second nature. And that's when you made it to St. Louis, Missouri. The plan was to only stay for a year, maybe more, if it was a decent place.

• You even managed to land yourself an invitation to a local speakeasy from an admirer.

• One night, you finally made your way down to the Lackadaisy, and you got to talking with a businessman, Sedgwick Sable.

• The two of you had a pretty good conversation, becoming fast friends over a mixture of success and hating most rich guys.

• And then a cat ran through the door, panting as he tried to carry about a dozen bottles of booze.

• After getting a bit of assistance, he made his way to the bar and sat at the stool next to you.

• It looked like he had been running for most of the night, and you could swear you smelt something burnt.

• Naturally, you talked to him. If his entrance was one thing, his normal conversations were about ten times that level of chaos.

• He didn't recognize you, too, or atleast pretended not too.

• You ended up finding out his name was Rocky Rickaby, and when you told him who you were, he was rather indifferent.

• That was certainly something new, and it intrigued you further.

• You asked him why he was being so...casual.

• "Well, maybe I don't know you, and maybe I do. Either way, artists like us are still people too."

• The rhyme was an unexpected, but not unwelcome response.

• Honestly, you wish more people had his attitude.

• From then on, you became friends. But eventually things changed.

• You ended up continuing your stay in St. Louis, partly because you grew to love the place, and mostly for Rocky.

• You ended up falling for him, and you know what, you had every right to.

• When you were younger you wished for attention, especially as your family crumpled around you.

• However the love and even hate you got from your work never truly satisfied that.

• Rocky did, though. He was sweet, a little insane, sure, but overall he was amazing.

• So, you crafted the ultimate plan.

• You made sure Rocky got a good amount of sleep the night before, offering up your bed for the night.

• It was way better than the car.

• Then, you spent the day together. You got him new clothes, took him out on a joyride around the city, and ended the night on a bridge over the Mississippi River.

• There, as the moonlight shone overhead, and Rocky played the night away.

• You heard him play many times before, but you loved hearing every new improvised song he came up with.

• You told him how you felt, and he happily returned your feelings, a massive grin on his face.

• The two of you have been happy together since then, and still are now.

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

Band of Brothers-

Cute/charming things they say when they walk into a room and see you/you walk into a room and they see you:

Babe: 

“oh SHIIIIIT! There’s my BABY! Do you see her, fellas? GodDAMN, I’m a lucky sonofabitch!” 

(you blush so hard and are just like Babe, we’re at work stahp it but he dgaf).

It’s embarrassing and always makes Martin glare so imploringly at you that you’ll go over to Babe just to make him be quiet. Because, you know, YOU’RE AT WORK. 

This bitch is shameless when it comes to loving on you, having once come to stand next to you when Sink was giving an important announcement and straight-up PINCHED. YOUR. ASS. 

how you didn’t yelp is a miracle, and how no one else seemed to notice was equally astounding 

(oh, the boys noticed. They kinda shipped it tho, so it was more a matter of hiding their joy). 

Needless to say, it only happened the once, something you made Babe swear after you pulled him aside and punched him in the arm. 

Don’t worry, you kissed it better.

Roe: 

bb boy doesn’t say anything at first, 

the smile he saves just for you is playing at his lips as you walk up to meet him, tho.

The moment you’re close enough that he can smell the  sweet mint of your gum, he’ll whisper something sweet like “hey you” or “mon amor”, or maybe just your name 

(bc let’s be honest, his accent is 10 out of 10 and he could read me the dictionary and I’d still rock an ugly giggle/snort combo). 

If it’s a more serious situation, like if you’re hurt oh lordy

he will literally shout your name until either you shout back or someone tells him where you are. 

I could see him being a face holder, in the sense that he does it to reassure himself that you’re okay and make sure he has your undivided attention. 

Since getting injured in Carentan, you hadn’t been as close to the frontlines as you had been, so when you were needed you are REALLY NEEDED, 

and even if he didn’t like it Gene knew you were the best at what you did. 

Gene also feels better if he knows where you are.

 Even when you eventually return to Easy, he will feel better knowing which Foxhole you’re in, and knowing he’s seen to it your first aid kit was fully stocked.

Liebgott: 

THAT FUCKER’S SMIRKING AT YOU SO OPENLY that whoever he had been talking to instantly goes 

*sigh* y/n’s just came in, didn’t she? 

And he won’t even ANSWER because he’s already shoving past them to walk up and eye you with obvious satisfaction. 

“Bout time you showed up,” he’d say casually, hands finding your hips giving them a quick squeeze. 

“Sooner we get briefed, sooner we can get outta here.” 

(You’re not fully sure what ‘getting outta here’ entails, but if the way he looked at you was any indication, you had a feeling it didn’t involve anything less than PG-13 sexy times.)

Bull: 

“Hey, little lady.”

He’ll say it no matter how tall or short you are, how wide or how narrow.

He will always say it to you that when you first see each other in the morning 

(sometimes, you wake up to Hey, little lady being kissed into the soft skin behind your ear.) 

(Once while on a 48 hour pass, he’d woken you up that way in a REAL bed and the two of you had nearly gotten him sent up Curahee for being late coming back because you’d ended up spending more time in that bed than either of you anticipated Whoops)

(Even if he had been late, he definitely wouldnt have minded, tbh. He fully considered going AWOL if it mean neither of you had to leave the bed)

but throughout the day he’s more concerned about getting his hands on some part of you whenever the two of you had been apart- 

even if it was for like five minutes. 

Nothing over the top- holding his arm up and out so you can step into his side, a press of his lips to your temple. 

Idk guys i just feel like he’d just love you so much that everyone would be able to see, which they do and they all think it’s fucking cute

Buck: 

He doesn’t always call out when he sees you, mostly because your eyes always seem to find his. 

The two of you could be across a field from one another with a thousand angry Germans between you, guns blazing, and the two of you would always spot each other like two honing beacons. 

If its downtime and you guys don’t have to be on your guard he’ll ABSOLUTELY wolf whistle in at you, 

You’ll see a stupid grin lighting up his face as he nods in your direction. 

“Take a look, boys. I think we’ve got ourselves a…” 

and he always waits until you’re close enough that he can wrap a quick arm around your waist and pat your hip. 

“Certified babe-asaurus!” 

(in a foxhole somewhere, a wild Babe’s head pokes up in confusion). 

You groan and boo him, and whoever he was with inevitably ends up booing him too.

But he doesn’t care because seeing you smile makes him so happy you guys.

Lipton: 

If you’re in public, he will quietly step up beside you and place his hand gently between your shoulder blades.

He’s not super into PDA, which you didn’t mind because what he didn’t show in physical touch he more than made up for in open admiration. 

He is in awe of you 

sometimes he worries you forget how highly he thinks of you, how highly everybody thinks of you 

(you don’t forget, but he’s just one of those people who will get intrusive thoughts like that and sometimes has a hard time shaking them so plz just let him say it ok?)

so he always whispers some praise with his greeting 

(Hey, beautiful...Doin’ okay, love?...What’re you thinking, brilliant girl?). 

It’d probably seem like overkill if anyone else did it but Carwood is just so goddamn sincere that you can’t help but duck a quick kiss to his shoulder. 

HOWEVER! 

If you two kids are alone….

OH BOI. 

He is handsy, coming up and caging you with his arms, 

probably pulling you close quickly so you lose your balance and he can hold you a lil bit.

(He likes to sweep you off your feet im so sorry)

 That’s when his praises are hushed and sighed between long slow kisses. 

Nixon: 

Like Liebgott, he’s a snarky motherfucker who will get the most self-satisfied grin on his face the moment he sees you, instantly turning on the famous Lewis Nixon charm ( something he’d long since decided belonged to you and you alone.)

“Uh oh,” he’d say, looking you up and down before raising an eyebrow.

(bc your hot but also he doesn’t want to get all flirty if you’re hurt or sick or something’s up bc ur not just something to flirt with- YOU ARE A BADASS WITH BADASS RESPONSIBILITIES AND THAT WAS SOMETHING HE very often and sometimes FOUND SO HOT THAT IT MADE HIM THINK HE MAY HAVE AN AUTHORITY FETISH this has been a PSA) 

“Here comes trouble.”

you roll your eyes, the behavior you once found cocky and arrogant having becoming endearing somewhere between Toccoa and England. 

He has absolutely no qualms about PDA (verbal or physical), so it’s up to you to reign him in 

(especially if he’s a lil tipsy, poor Luz didn’t need to hear Lewis’s sloppy and shameless plea for you to let him eat you out on top of piano he’d found in the attic of the billet he’d been assigned. You weren’t able to look at George for a week without wanting to die of embarrassment and Lewis Nixon didn’t get any for two weeks. He was sure to never make such a mistake ever again) 

And Dick had probably grown blind to how Lewis liked to pull you his lap and run his hands up and down your thighs while you played with his hair. 

Also, like Lipton, he probably saves the more explicit acts of PDA for when the company has scheduled downtime 

(but only bc you told him he needed to keep it in his pants any other time he tried to get cute with you)

but you can bet your ass his hand will always try to tap it (your ass, that is.)at least once

a day when he isn’t supposed to.

That’s when you get to punish him whoopsies

Dick: 

since the day you were introduced to Dick in Georgia, the boy always made sure to stand when you entered a room and will call you “ma’am”,

(you know, LIKE HE DOES ONLY BECAUSE HE HAS TO FOR SOBEL BC RANKS. I feel like he has a “we salute the woman, not the rank” speech queued up for anyone who tried to give him shit for it BUT THAT’s JUST ME)

but he has a knowing look in his eye that makes the term ‘ma’am’ feel anything but impersonal.

It confused the shit out of replacements, who would automatically stand because their superior officer (that would be Big Dick Winters) did- only to see you standing there in your fatigues with a coffee in each hand with a look of mutual confusion on your face. 

(bc while they like you, but they’re confused still bc while you’re a boss ass bitch,  you didn’t outrank him...or at least they theink you dont?) 

Babe had been the one to ask you about the longing looks and lingering glances, and when you didn’t know how to answer him you’d gone to Nixon, 

He’d burst into tearful laughter and was unable to get it together enough to explain anything.

Dick had been the one to bring it up the next time they were alone, weirdly enough, as she proofread his report for errors that didn’t exist. 

Because you warrant it, he’d said when pressed for a reason why he greeted her like a ranking officer, looking down at his boots as they both blushed like teenagers at a school dance. 

After that, he still stood wherever you walked in

but now he made a point to brush his fingers against yours at some point during the time you were together. 

He’s the definition of a slow burn friends-to-lovers story, and boi can get spicy LEMME TELL YOU.

(this is my first writing thing ever plz let a sister know if there are any glaring typos. Also i’m roughly 97 years late to fandom but I brought y’all some starbucks so plz let me in thank you)

[darling-i-read-it]

Releves

1x12

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham 

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, mental health problems 

Author’s Note: Me being angry at hannibal despite it conflicting with my plans for this series are something else 

I took lines directly from the script so some may seem familiar. Those sentences are not mine. 

Official Episode Summary : The BAU team finds evidence linking Abigail to the Minnesota Shrike victims; Will checks Abigail out of the hospital; Hannibal convinces Jack that Will is capable of murder.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

Tag List: @llperfectsymmetryll​

(not my gif) 

You woke up and Will was gone. You must have fallen asleep on the chair beside his bed. You started to panic which had become a much too familiar feeling. You got up and started to walk around. You thought about asking a doctor or something but didn’t want to worry anyone but yourself just in case it was nothing. You walked through the halls, peeking in rooms for your boyfriend who slept walked more often than not these days. You got to the room of the girl who had been under your bed and Will was inside. 

“Will?” you whispered. He turned around.

“Hi. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Dont’ worry about it.” You glanced at her. She looked so much better than you had seen her last considering. 

“I don’t think we’ve met properly,” she said. “Georgia.”

“Y/N.” 

“I’m sorry, I heard I kinda crashed under your bed.” You shook your head and laughed.

“No worries there.” You turned to Will. “You should come back to your room.” He turned to Georgia sarcastically.

“Helicopter girlfriend,” he teased.

“Yeah I wouldn’t have to be if you slept through the night,” you confessed. Georgia laughed and you grabbed Will’s pole that he was holding. He nodded and waved goodbye to her before following you out the door.

You walked out of the room and he turned to you.

“She said they would never figure out what’s wrong with me,” he whispered.

“She’s not a doctor.” He glanced at you and then the ground as he shuffled along.

“You’re optimistic.”

“I gotta me. You’re pessimistic,” you whispered teasingly as you made it back to his room. He nodded.

“So you think they’ll figure it out?” You shook your head softly.

“I hope they do. But honestly, I think you’re too complicated for them.”

-

Will woke up later to a light conversation. You were sitting on the bed and Hannibal stood at the edge of it. 

“Well it is complicated,” Hannibal was saying quietly.

“What’s complicated?” Will asked. You looked over at him and smiled comfortingly.

“Nothing.” 

“You keeping secrets now?” Will teased, sitting up.

“We were talking about how to make this soup. Y/N said she couldn’t quite cook and I was sharing the recipe,” Hannibal explained.

“He’s brought food,” you said happily.

“Smells delicious.”

“Silkie chicken in a broth. A black boned bird prized in China for its medicinal value since the 7th century. With wolfberries, ginseng, ginger, red dates and star anise,” Hannibal explained.

“You made me chicken soup,” Will said and Hannibal offered a supportive smile. 

“Y/N says you’ve been wandering.” 

“I was awake. And wandering with purpose and good intentions,” he promised. You nodded.

“Just visiting around,” you promised. 

“Visiting that unfortunate young woman suffering from delusions?”

“She’s my support group,” he joked. You hit him gently. “You are also my support group. Relax.” Will got out of bed and sat down at the table while the three of you ate the broth together. “Could all of the things have been the fever Hannibal? Like the hallucinations or the sleepwalking, the loss of time,” Will asked as he sat down.

“It’s possible.”

“What else is possible?” you asked.

“Fevers can be symptoms of dementia. Dementia can be a symptom of many things happening in your body or mind that can no longer be ignored,” Hannibal said. 

“Does Jack know?”

“That this could be a fever? No I haven’t told him,” Hannibal said.

“He wouldn’t do anything about it either,” you muttered bitterly. 

“But shouldn’t you?” Will asked. 

“I believe Y/N may be right. Additionally we don’t know for certain.” 

-

Will walked with you into the room of Georgia who you felt as though you had just spoken to. Her charred body laid across the burn tank. 

“Hospital speculates a short circuit could have ignited the fire,” Jack muttered. 

“Unit looks well maintained. No exposed wiring,” Price said.

“Don’t know if she suffocated or burned to death. We’ll look for soot in the lining of her airways,” Zeller commented. Will lets out a shaky sigh and puts his hand almost protectively on your arm.

“Horrible way to die,” he whispered. 

-

Will woke up with a start and it woke you up. It was odd not to be laying beside him but you were sitting in the uncomfortable chair beside the bed. He breathed heavily.

“Do you need something?” you whispered. Will grabbed your arm and pulled you to the bed. He wasn’t sweating and didnt’ feel hot. You wrapped your arms around him and he put his head on your chest.

“Sleep here,” he whispered. You nodded

-

The next day you walked into Abigail's room. It was the first time you had been away from Will since he had been admitted to the hospital. Hannibal had urged you to leave but not come back to work just yet although you would be back the next day.

She looked up and let out a sigh of relief.

“I thought you were Freddie,” she muttered. 

“Or Alana who is also watching you like a hawk?” you asked. She nodded. She knew you knew and that was a good thing when it came down to it. She didn't feel like she had to hide with you.

“Just anybody else,” she murmured. You walked inside and sat at the window sill with her.

“How have you been?”

“Do you know that Hannibal is in love with you and Will?” she asked. You choked on the air at the change of subject. She was a teenager. But still. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I thought it was weird when I noticed. I wanted to know if you had noticed,” she said. You shook your head.

“Will, Hannibal and I are close friends,” you said lightly.

“But you and Will are dating,” she suggested.

“Yeah so?”

“Hannibal loves the two of you as a unit I think,” she said. “I told him I thought of all of you as a weird parental group and he got oddly happy.” 

“Abigail-”

“It’s just an observation,” she whispered. “I’m fine.” You laughed at the change of tone.

“Good to hear.”

-

When you got back to the hospital Will was gone. You were notebally pissed. You walked right into the building where he worked and up to Jack Crawford's office. You could hear Will’s voice from down the hall. 

You opened the door aggressively and they both turned around. 

“Did you do this?” you asked at Jack.

“He checked himself out. I told him to go back,” he said honestly. You walked up to Will and put your hand on his forehead. Still warm but not boiling like he had been. 

“Why did you-”

“Jack thinks she killed herself. I think it’s the copy cat of Garret Jacob Hobbs.” You blinked twice. Even for Will, that was a stretch. But you trusted his instinct more than your own.

“And you can wait to catch them. It’s been this long,” you said, removing your hand. He shook his head. 

“I have to do it now. I’m thinking clearer, I’m finally thinking clearly.” His eyes pleaded but they still looked undescribingly broken. You glanced at Jack who clearly didn’t believe Will at all. “Jack also thinks Abigail had something to do with the murders.” 

“What?” 

“I’m not explaining this to you. You don't’ work for me,” Jack said.

“Neither does Will! He’s not on a payroll is he?” you asked. Jack let out a sigh.

“Will go talk to Hannibal,” Jack said simply.

“Finally something I can agree on,” you murmured.

-

Will ran up to you. It had been a few days since he released himself from the hospital and you were still annoyed about it. You turned to him, raising an eyebrow as he came out of the office of Hannibal's place. 

“The copycat,” he said. You nodded, curious to hear what he had to say. He rarely talked to you about any kind of stuff with his work. “Was planning to frame me for the murder of the doctor.”

“He wouldn’t have been able to do it. I was there,” you said.

“But you’re unreliable,” he said.

“Excuse me?” He shook his head.

“You’re my girlfriend. You would have been accused of lying,” he said. You shook your head.

“I am very reliable. Why are you telling me this?” He shrugged.

“You need to know.” 

-

First day back at work. This was a mistake.

You ran your hand over your head and Jack Crawford walked in. He thought about asking you what he was about to ask Hannibal but decided against it. 

“You don’t have an appointment,” you said bitterly.

He opened the door anyway. You were still working when Hannibal and Jack opened the door quickly. Hannibal looked at you and you thought about what Abigail had said. That he was in love with you and Will. You pushed it aside when you saw the pity in his eyes.

“Where’s Will?” he asked.

“At home. Hopefully. Why?”

“Will Graham is at Garett Jacob Hobbs house with Abigail,” Jack said. You scoffed.

“You on something?” 

“Where was Will on the night of Marrisa Schuur’s murder? ‘

“Again, at home presumably.” Hannibal stared at you. Hard. “What?” 

“Will dissociates into other personalities. Whose personality is it?” Jack asked. “Will got close enough to Hobbs to think he was him.” 

You scoffed again.

“Sorry, what the hell is your point?”

“Will is going to kill Abigail. And he killed the girls before,” Hannibal said. You stared in Hannibal’s eyes.

“You can’t be serious.” 

“I’m serious.”

“Hannibal you know him! He trusts you to know him,” you seethed, standing up from anger and audacity. You pointed a hard finger at him. “Will Graham didn’t kill anyone he didn't’ have to.”

“The evidence suggests-” Jack started

“Hey Jack, I don’t really care what you’re about to say and so if you say it I’ll have to hit you or Hannibal or something.”

“I’m going to get Abigail,” Hannibal said. Jack walked out of the room but your gaze stayed steady on Hannibal’s. 

“You don’t think he did this,” you said. 

“A statement and not a question?” You shook your head.

“He didn’t do this.”

1x13

[imsurethisisprobablyabadidea]

The Beginning.

The beginning of the fanfic with no name. 

No warnings here. It is, after all, just the beginning!

Word Count: 1,276 (I told you this series would be long)

Mornings suck. We can all agree on that. However, we can probably also agree that mornings suck even harder after sleepless nights. You’ve been having a lot of those recently. Do you remember the feeling of anticipation right before a big vacation as a child? Or Christmas? Christmas Eve is the most difficult time to sleep. You used to lie in bed counting the hours in your head. 

If I go to sleep now, do I think Mom and Dad will let me wake them up in 5 hours and start the festivities?! 

The past week worth of nights have felt like that. That feeling when you are 100% assured something big and exciting in the morning, when the sleep, for a change, isn’t relaxing, but an obstacle keeping you from the true prize. You’d honestly like to give a shoutout to coffee for keeping you coherent recently. It’s through the grace of God and Arabica that you even made it to this dreary Monday morning. Which, as you hope we can all agree on again, is the worst kind of Morning. But today, you don’t even care. you’re awake, and it is Christmas morning, time to depart on your much awaited vacation, the day you win the lottery...whatever you want to call it. Either way, you’re done with the anticipatory sleepless nights today.

Even mornings here are warm. When your alarm clock goes off, that’s the first thing you notice, rolling over. Well, shifting over. This tiny twin bed doesn’t allow for a glamorous amount of room. Your body seems to be radiating heat already. The feeling of the humid air is what finally causes you to snap out of your sleepy stupor. You sit up in bed, wiping an embarrassing amount of drool off my chin. With a generous stretch, you swing my legs over the bed and sigh. The walk to the tiny bathroom in your tiny apartment is, if you can believe it, short. Once the shower begins to run, the small space is even more sweltering than your bed. Perhaps some people would take a cold shower to even out the weather, rather than complaining about the temperature as they make it worse, but not you. If anyone ever catches you taking a cold shower, send the ambulance. After all, this is a very important shower. It’s a big day, and you want to make a good first impression. When you work this closely and hands-on with people, shaving your legs becomes a pretty high priority. With such a lengthy shower, you had certainly cooled off by the end. Hey, guess that means the size of the water heater compliments the rest of the loft! You towel off quickly, brush your teeth, and run a comb and some product through your hair and leave it to dry of its own accord. When the air is this thick, there’s no sense in trying to tame the curly mane. While the Atlanta air saves you time on your hair, it’s the lengthy work day that cuts down the makeup time. A quick swipe of mascara and concealer will do, getting you out the door quicker too. Which is good, cause you’re already running late and, as previously mentioned, first impressions are everything. 

Regardless of how late you am, you cannot skip coffee. So you throw on a pair of black leggings and a tank top, and race out the door. Starbucks, here you come. One trenta caramel macchiato later, and you’re feeling much more ready to face the day. We can pretend it was the block you jogged to the cafe and back, but we all know it was the unhealthy amount of caffeine. Trying to avoid rush hour traffic at this ungodly early hour, you begin my trek to the studio. Since it’s the beginning of production, today will be one of the easiest for you. It’ll begin with a script read through which, with the projected runtime of this film, will take a good bit, and then, after lunch, begin to work on some costuming, makeup, and fight choreography. You could not be more grateful for the scenery today. Though it is very fun to be on location, the air conditioning in the studio feels like kisses from heaven on this scorcher of a day.

People are already bustling around when you walk in the door. 

Maybe I got the call times wrong.

You fret. Luckily, a quick swipe through your email assuages my fears. All these PAs must be eager to impress. Weaving through the masses, you make it to a much calmer room. It’s fairly plain, just tables, chairs and scripts, but then you notice the bagel spread against the wall. You love a good bagel. So, you grab yourself breakfast and take your seat, facing the open “U” the tables create. Only a few of the talent are here yet, sitting calmly in front of their nameplates, quietly reading through their scripts for what you are sure is the millionth time. By the time production makes it to this stage, most actors have their lines almost completely memorized. And with the quality of actors on this film, you’d be willing to bet your tiny apartment, for all it’s worth, that most of them would only use their printed scripts to make notes, not to read.

Though you’ve never worked with this cast before, a quick scan of the room confirms that those present are who you would assume the usual “early birds” are. Anthony Mackie sits calmly, although he isn’t reading his script like the others. Just staring at his phone. From the looks of his finger swiping...playing Tetris? Scarlett Johannson, however, is trained on her lines, her lips moving slightly as she runs through them. A laugh draws your eyes to the last two people at the tables. Mark Ruffalo smiles, script forgotten as his costar tells him what you have to surmise is a hilarious story. His eyes meet yours and he offers a slight wave of his hand. You smile and wave your fingers back. Chris Evans, his conversation partner, turns over his shoulder to meet your eyes as well, a smile lifting the corner of his lips.

You smile at him as well, with, you’ll admit it, a bit more heat on your cheeks than could be attributed to the Georgia humidity outside. Because, come on, we’ve all seen the man! He shifts back around, continuing his chat with Mark. You turn to your phone, people filtering into the room steadily now, deciding to spend the next few minutes responding to emails. When you look up next, the table is full, Robert Downey Jr, Sebastian Stan, Chris Hemsworth, and Jeremy Renner having joined the fray. Clearly, with a Marvel project, it’s nearly impossible to have the entire universe in the same room, so this script read will only feature the original six, plus Mackie and Sebastian, of course. The rest of the parts will be read by production staff. As the last stragglers file into the reading, Anthony Russo stands to address the room. With some passing comments about how important this film is to bring the MCU’s Phase 3 to a head, and jokes about the professionalism of his beloved cast, You settle into your seat as Russo begins by reading the movie’s title, “Avengers: Infinity War”. 

[aver-no]

Real to Me (Princess and the Frog AU) Chapter 1

First | Next

AO3

Summary: Virgil’s closer than ever to getting his dream, Pat’s prince is finally coming, and the Creativitwins are here, queer, and- shit.

Relationships: Platonic moxiety, familial creativitwins, eventual prinxiety

Characters: Virgil, Patton, Roman, Remus, and Janus (eventually Logan and C!Thomas)

Warnings: Unsympathetic Janus (I promise he gets a redemption arc) and like. one very minor swear word (lmk if I need to add anything else)

Word count:  4343

A/N: Heyyyy... so this chapter. Was NOT meant to be this long lmao, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!! I worked really hard on it, and as always reblogs are very much appreciated :) (Also feel free to drop by my ask box if you have any questions!!)

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

Virgil groaned as he fumbled for the off button on his alarm clock. Another day. He rolled out of bed, narrowly avoiding the beat-up nightstand, working the kinks out of his neck. He quickly straightened out his sheets and stepped over to the old (“it’s vintage”) mirror his mama’d given him. Virgil wanted to make sure he was presentable, if only so he’d be stared at as little as possible. He tugged at his tight curls and grimaced. He’d slept in his work clothes to save time in the morning (lord knows he needed all the sleep he could get) but it left him looking a little rumpled. Virgil could see bags under his eyes too, and there was no time to put on makeup. He sighed. The outsides are just gonna have to match the insides today. 

Virgil shuffled over to his closet to grab his coat. He rubbed his eyes and smiled at the sight of his dad’s picture, right next to the illustration he’d given Virgil so many years ago. Working three jobs suddenly didn’t seem as soul-crushing as before. He grabbed the black coat, quickly shrugged it on, and dashed out the door, snatching his hat at the last minute – it might rain later.

Virgil got to the corner just as the tram was pulling up, green paint and white stripes as dull as ever. The door opened and Virgil was eternally grateful someone he knew was at the wheel. He didn’t think he could handle the stress of wondering if they were going to go off the tracks. He gave a small smile to the portly man driving. “Hi, Charlie.”

“Hey Virgil!” Charlie looked him over sympathetically. “You’re lookin’ a bit roughed up today, son. Didn’t get much sleep?”

Virgil internally grimaced, knowing he’d probably be getting comments like that all day. He just forced a laugh as he reached the top of the steps and replied “Gotta pay the bills. You know how it is.” He wasn’t going to mention he could pay the bills just fine with one job. Or that he was probably chasing a pipe dream.

“Ha, yeah,” and a sympathetic look were the only responses Virgil got. That was fine. Uncomfortable people didn’t ask you questions.

Virgil walked down the dirty aisle of the tram. There were some empty seats, the hard plastic kind that public transport always has, but he just grabbed hold of one of the metal poles in the middle of the aisle. 

Every once in a while, Virgil felt his eyes close for a few milliseconds longer than he’d normally let them. He didn’t want to let his guard down, lest he be pickpocketed or trampled or find himself in any other scenario anyone else might call “unlikely,” but it took an astounding amount of effort to pry his lids open every time. Virgil tried to fight it by staring at the people and cars passing by. New Orleans was as lively as ever. Even at 5:30 in the morning, there were jazz musicians playing on street corners and people dancing beside them, looking like there was nowhere else they’d rather be. 

Virgil unfortunately became quite familiar with that fact as he stepped off the tram, almost running into a line of musicians as they paraded down the street. He started to get increasingly impatient as the trumpet, then the trombone, then the drummer danced by. Just as there was a break in the line and Virgil could see the street he needed to take to Duke’s Cafe, a large man with a handkerchief grabbed his hand and swung Virgil around in a circle. Affronted, Virge pushed the man’s hand away and quickly walked in the direction of the restaurant. Some people need to learn personal space.

一

“Wait Remus, I’m going to- ! Oof!”

Cackling could be heard as a fancifully dressed man with loose, dark curls piled on his head slammed into the railing of the ship. 

“But Roman,” Remus said innocently, “I thought you said you were excited to get on land.” He waltzed up to the man pushing himself away from the edge of the boat.

“That doesn’t mean push me off the ship!!” Roman playfully shoved Remus.

“Eh, you didn’t fall or anything,” Remus shrugged.

The other rolled his eyes as the boat slowly pulled up to the docks, allowing the men aboard to see the photographers and reporters waiting to catch a glimpse. As soon as the ship pulled in view, flashes started to go off, capturing its gleaming white hull and a man standing behind the railing. As Roman flashed a practiced grin, Remus stepped away from the railing, as if hoping to prolong the time he had before stepping off the boat. When the ship began to pull to a stop though, the twins walked over to where the stairs led down to the dock, one with excitement in his eyes, the other with distaste. Roman struck a pose, hands on his hips (easy access for elbowing Remus), and flung off his crown to dash down the steps. Remus chased after him, determined not to be left on the boat (again), only pausing when he physically ran into Roman at the bottom of the stairway.

“Ro, what th-?!”

“Prince Roman! Over here!! Did you see you were declared most eligible bachelor by the Times-Picayune?” 

Remus squinted at the reporter that called out to them. To Roman, anyway. Most eligible bachelor? Really?? That’s the dumbest question I’ve ever heard.

Roman, however, grinned and drifted to the center of the crowd. “Well no, you see, I just arrived, but to say I’m surprised would be-”

“Prince Roman! What do you think of New Orleans? Have you received your invitation to Eli La Bouff’s masquerade?” 

Remus’ expression soured. Masquerades were lame anyway. He tried to push his way toward his brother. “Roman, come on-”

“I’ve found this city quite welcoming so far,” Roman didn’t acknowledge Remus, he just paused to beam around at the crowd, “and I’m looking forward to seeing more of it. In fact-”

“In fact,” Remus cut in, finally reaching that asshole, “we’d enjoy it more if we did some sightseeing.” He shoved Roman away from the crowd without waiting for a response. He hated reporters. He wasn’t even allowed to talk around them because apparently what the press hears is “important to our reputation” and if he doesn’t watch his language, “rumors might spread.” It was one time! And who would actually believe that Roman uses cacti as dildos? The whole thing’s all shit on a stick if you ask him.

“Oh, yes! Sightseeing!!” Roman clapped his hands excitedly and followed Remus off into the city.

一

Roman couldn’t remember when, but at some point he had lost Remus in the busy streets. It was definitely after he’d changed into street clothes, but before he passed the place grilling shrimp… The prince wasn’t too worried about his brother, but having a loose Remus on the town probably wasn’t great for the people of New Orleans. 

Ro’s train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a trumpet blaring a couple blocks down. His head shot up and he took off down the road, drinking in all the sights around him. Every once in a while, he’d wink at a stranger, or maybe strum his ukulele in tune with the sounds of the city. 

As the prince reached the end of the block, he saw a line of musicians dancing down the street. Roman’s face lit up and he chased after them. When he caught up he strummed along with the group and called, “Mind if I join?”

“Hey, we can always use another!” a dancing man with a handkerchief shouted back.

“Ashidanza!” Roman danced off after the band. These guys’ll probably show me all around the city. 

They walked down several streets, each as exciting as the next. There were so many people milling about, so many smells and sounds, so many lights strung up between balconies, and restaurants on every corner. He flashed his most heart-stopping grins at the people they passed, drawing blushes left and right. His eyes only lingered on a few, before he danced on.

The group of musicians passed by a diner that smelled particularly good, and a tall man with a strong jaw caught Roman’s eye. He spun around, strumming louder to catch the man’s attention all while eyeing him up and down. Tight curls, glowing skin, dark eyes? Looked a little tired, but handsome nonetheless. Yeah, that deserves a wink. But as soon as the man turned away from the table he was cleaning, he just rolled his eyes at Roman’s antics and walked back inside the diner. Roman simply shrugged and lost himself to the music. 

The group continued for a few blocks until they found a fairly empty road and started to really play off each other. Now this is what I signed up for. Roman cheered and whooped along with the others, and slowly a crowd formed.

It’d already been a few hours since he’d seen Remus but… what’s a few minutes longer?

一

“Order up!” Virgil held back a grimace at Buford’s gruff voice and the dinging of the bell. He turned to walk towards the back counter with his tray and pushed imaginary flyaways away from his forehead.

“Another coffee over here, Cher!” The man at a nearby table called.

“Gotcha, Eddie.” Virgil internally sighed and poured the coffee into the cup, eyeing Buford every once in a while to make sure he wasn’t gonna start slamming the bell again.

“Hey Virgil!”

He threw out a quick “Mornin’ Georgia” while placing a woman’s plate down.

“Hey, how you doin’ Virgil?” another voice called.

Virgil finally looked up to find a whole group of people sitting around a table, and hoisted the coffee pitcher off his tray to serve them. “Hey y’all.”

Georgia grabbed the mug he just filled for her. “We’re all goin’ out dancin’ tonight, care to join us?” 

There were some words of assent amongst the group, but Virgil just protested, “You know I don’t dance. Besides, I’m-” he handed a napkin to a dirty four year old he wouldn’t have even come near if it wasn’t his job. “Need a napkin? I’m gonna work a double shift tonight.” Virgil strode over to a well-dressed man putting a napkin around his collar. “Here’s your hotcakes.” He folded his empty tray to his side and turned back to Georgia’s group. “I’m just really busy right now-”

“Again?” Georgia interrupted. “All you ever do is work.” She looked so disappointed Virgil almost felt bad. Almost.

Buford’s bell dinged. “Order up!”

“Maybe next time,” Virgil called over his shoulder, knowing full well it was a lie. He thought he might’ve heard someone say “I told y’all he wouldn’t come.” But that was probably just his imagination.

Buford cut him out of his thoughts, “You daydreaming ‘bout that damn restaurant again?”

Virgil deadpanned. “Buford. Your eggs are burning.”

He scrambled to get them off the griddle, but kept going off on Virgil. “You ain’t never gonna get enough for the down payment.”

“I’m gettin’ close,” the waiter scowled indignantly.

“Yeah? How close?” Buford was just mocking him now.

Virgil pushed down his frustration to demand, “Where are my flapjacks?”

The chef didn’t seem to notice Virgil’s impending anger, just laughing out, “You got about as much chance of getting that restaurant as I do of winning the Kentucky Derby!” Virgil’s lip curled into a snarl, but Buford kept going. “Saddle me up, y’all! It’s post time! Giddyup!” Virgil heard the worst trumpet imitation he’d ever had the displeasure to witness coming from behind him as he stormed off with the food piled on his tray. Just ignore him. Just… just ignore them. You’re getting there. 

The bell dinged and Virgil looked up to welcome the customer, brightening a little when he saw who it was. Thank god. An easy customer. “Morning, Mr. La Bouff.”

“Morning, Virgil,” Eli rumbled as he pulled the chair out from his usual table and opened the morning paper.

Virgil placed the eggs and flapjacks on an old woman’s table. “Congratulations on being voted King of the Mardi Gras parade.”

“Caught me completely by surprise! For the fifth year in a row,” Eli joked. Virgil smiled good-naturedly at Mr. La Bouff’s hearty laugh. “Now, how ‘bout I celebrate with some-”

“Beignets?” the waiter placed a plate in front of the large man. “Got a fresh batch waiting for you.”

“Well keep ‘em comin’ till I pass out,” Mr. La Bouff laughed gleefully. 

Virgil had just given his most indulgent customer service smile and turned toward the kitchen when the door slammed open and left a blond boy with a light blue jacket and a cream waistcoat beaming in the doorway. He stood there for only a split second before jumping up to Virgil, shouting, “Vee!!! Virgil Virgil Virgil, did you hear the news??” He plopped down into the chair across from Mr. La Bouff to say “Tell him Daddy!!”

Mr. La Bouff slowly swallowed and held up his paper to show the front cover displaying a handsome man with loose curls and a dimpled smile. “Oh yes,” Eli started, “Prince Roman-”

“Prince Roman is coming to New Orleans!!” Patton interjected, giggling excitedly. “Isn’t he amazing?” His face got all dreamy before continuing, “Tell Vee what you did, Daddy!”

“Well, I invited-”

“Daddy invited the prince to our masquerade ball tonight!!” Pat jumped up excitedly, then seemed to realize he was making a scene and sat down to continue a little quieter, “Tell him what else you did!” Mr. La Bouff paused to look at Patton for a minute, expecting him to interject again, but Pat stayed silent. He looked to his daddy and beamed, “Go on.”

“And he’s staying-”

“He-” Pat started, but then caught himself, deciding to shove a beignet in his mouth instead.

“...And he’s staying in our house as my personal guest,” Eli finished proudly.

Patton nodded excitedly, and Virgil looked at them both with wide eyes. “Pat, that’s amazing! It’s a lot, but… amazing.” He walked back to the kitchen to grab another batch of beignets, and when he got back he placed the treats in front of them and rested his hand on Pat’s shoulder. “A little word of advice: My mama always said, ‘The quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.’”

“Don’t I know it,” Pat laughed, taking a big bite of his pastry before gasping, “Wait, that’s it! Virge, you are a genius!!” Virgil gave him a look of confusion from where he was placing dishes in the sink. “I’m gonna need about 500 of your beignets for the ball tonight!” Virgil looked up in alarm. 500?? Patton darted over to where his daddy was sitting and grabbed a large wad of cash from his wallet. “Will this about cover it?”

The waiter stood there speechless for a few moments before forcing himself to reach out to take the money Pat was shoving at him. “I- yeah. Yes, this- this should cover it just fine, Pat.” A rare smile slowly grew on his face and he looked up at the La Bouffs gratefully. “This- this is it... I’m actually getting my restaurant!”

Patton hugged Virgil tight and bounced him around, squealing, “It’s gonna be amazing Virge!” Suddenly, he let go, gasping, “I’d better get ready.” He grabbed his daddy and shoved him towards the door. “Tonight my prince is coming!!”

~

“Everything looks good to me, Mr. Fenner.” Virgil looked away from the building (his building!) as the man in question began to get up to haul the “For Sale” sign away. Another, much shorter man with the same nose and mustache walked by where Virgil stood. “.....And Mr. Fenner.”

“We’ll have all the paperwork ready to sign first thing after Mardi Gras,” the taller of the brothers announced.

“I’ll be at the La Bouff’s masquerade ball, how ‘bout I sign them then?” He wanted his ownership confirmed as soon as possible – there was no way something this good could actually be happening to him.

“You drive a hard bargain boy,” the shorter Fenner called from the car. “We’ll see ya there!”

Virgil finally let himself take a breath once the real estate agents drove off, and stood back to take in the view of what would be his restaurant. He felt truly hopeful for the first time in a long time. He was really gonna get his restaurant. Wow.

He was startled out of his reverie by a woman sneaking behind him to say, “Table for one please.”

Virge turned to see a woman with graying hair and deep smile lines holding out a beaten up pot with a bow tied around it. “Mama!”

“Here’s a little something to help you get started,” she smiled.

Virgil’s face went soft, a little nostalgic. “Dad’s gumbo pot…” He hesitantly reached out to take it from her.

“I know,” Eudora comforted, “I miss him too.” They both stood there for a moment before his mama urged, “Well now, hurry up and open the door!”

Virgil went and unlocked the doors, and as soon as they were wide enough to walk through, said wistfully, “Look at it mama... Doesn’t it just make you wanna cry?”

Eudora took in the cobwebbed rafters and the creaky walls. “Yes…”

Virge seemed to notice her skepticism, turning to look at her after placing the pot on a lone stool. “It’s a little rickety, it’ll definitely need some sprucing up to be safe, but can’t you see it? The maitre’d is gonna be right where you’re standing, and over there’s gonna be the gourmet kitchen.” Virgil gestured to the left end of the room. “And hanging from the ceiling, a crystal chandelier! I’ve been thinking about the weight of it to make sure it doesn’t fall down, and so long as it’s not too big, I can save on the structuring of it. Of course I won’t pinch pennies too much, I want it to be safe, but-” 

“You certainly have this all figured out, don’t you,” his mama laughed. “I’m sure this place is gonna be wonderful baby. It’s just…”

Virgil looked at her nervously. “What?”

“It’s a shame you’re workin’ so hard. It’s all you do,” Eudora smiled gently.

“How can I let up now that I’m so close? I’ve gotta make sure all Dad’s work means something.” I’ve gotta make him proud.

“Virgil, your daddy might not have gotten his restaurant, but he had somethin’ better,” Eudora squeezed his arm gently. “He had love.” Virgil snorted lightly. “Laugh all you want baby, but that’s all I want for you. Pat’s got his own dreams of happily ever after.” Virge’s eyebrows scrunched. “I don’t want you to be lonely. I wanna see you dance off into happily ever after too.”

Virgil stepped away from her. “Mama, I don’t have the time right now. I’m so close. Maybe when I get up and running, but right now… it’s just not an option for me.”

Eudora sighed and patted Virgil’s hand. “Alright sweetheart. I trust you.”

一

Roman stood amongst a crowd of people, all dancing and cheering. The trumpeter blared his horn, and the rest of the band energetically played along, the whole atmosphere charged with the infectious energy. A short news boy danced along with Roman, trading moves back and forth and smiling wide. After a few trades, the prince stepped to the edge of the circle to let the boy have his moment. With the space to himself, the kid dropped into a split and popped right back up.

“Ashidanza!” Roman laughed, tilting his head to some swooning admirers and immediately spinning back into the fray.

“Ro!” a familiar voice called. Roman looked up and smiled brilliantly, having caught the eye of his black-clad brother. “There you are. I should’ve been following the shrieking earlier.”

“Excuse me?” Roman dramatically placed his hand on his chest. “That is the sound of joy.”

“Sure, and you’re a heartthrob.” Roman squawked indignantly as Remus shoved him away from the crowd. “Come on, I found a restaurant that sells frog legs!!”

“What?? Ew, no. I’m staying here,” Roman dug his feet in.

“But Rooooo, they have five different sauces!! Five!!!”

“Yeah, for frog legs!”

“You got to play your jazz,” Remus argued, “so now we’re gonna eat some goddamn frog legs.”

“But I haven’t gotten to show all of my moves yet!” Roman protested. “And I’ve almost gotten enough admirers to form a fan club!”

“We should leave then, so my roguish good looks and entrancing humor don’t steal their hearts.”

“You mean your worm of a mustache and your freakish flirting?” Roman teased.

Remus glared and opened his mouth to argue, when a smooth voice came from the wall behind them. “Gentlemen!” The twins spun around to find a tall, masked man with a hooked cane and a black hat leaning casually against the wall. “Enchanté. A tip of the hat from Dr. Côté.” Roman noted that he didn’t actually tip his hat. The man – Dr. Côté – pulled a business card out of seemingly nowhere and held it out to them. “How y’all doin’?”

Remus swiped the card away before Roman could even lift his hand. “’Tarot readings, charms, potions.’” Re’s eyes shone brighter with each word. “’Dreams made real.’” 

Ok, now Roman’s attention was piqued. 

Remus looked up with a wild grin on his face. “You can really do that stuff?”

“Well… normally I do it for a price but… I suspect I’m in the presence of some very important people,” Dr. Côté grinned charmingly, canines glinting. The twins’ heads whipped around to share a look.

“...What other things can you do?” Roman inquired.

Dr. Côté seemed to really notice Roman for the first time. “Why don’t we take a little trip to my office and I’ll show you.”

The twins gave each other a look. Then Remus jumped up, shouting, “Come on, let’s just go already!”

~

First thing Roman noticed was that the “office” was not an office. Honestly, it was more of an urban cave – a nook in an alleyway off a street that was more dirt than anything else. It was filled with all sorts of things Roman never imagined would make for desirable décor. There were herbs dangling from one corner, and large masks with strange markings hanging on almost every available surface. Roman was pretty sure he saw some bones in the corner. The rugs on the floor didn’t match each other at all, but all were made of what was once probably very expensive fabric. Now it was just musty, matted, and muddled. The furniture was limited to a small, circular table in the center of the room, sitting directly beneath a chandelier that gave off an orange light, which didn’t seem to help much in the way of seeing. Roman silently vowed not to go within three feet of any of these… decorations.

“WOAH, cool bones!” Remus, on the other hand, seemed to have no qualms.

“Don’t touch those!” Dr. Côté hissed. He took a deep breath and grinned, gesturing to the table Roman noticed earlier. “Why don’t you come have a seat?” 

The men settled themselves around the table, Roman carefully examining his chair before sitting, just to make sure he wasn’t about to sit on anything… distasteful. 

Then, Dr. Côté pulled a deck of cards seemingly out of nowhere. They didn’t seem particularly special, simply decorated with a symbol of a hand that had an eye in the center, but the voodoo man held them with reverence. 

“Are you gonna do a card trick?” Remus snickered. Roman buried his smirk and elbowed his brother’s side. He did not want to make a magic man angry.

Dr. Côté simply looked up, though, giving an oily smile. “They’re tarot cards. I can tell you your past, your present… your future.” He gave a knowing look and fanned the cards out to the twins. “Go ahead. Take three.”

The princes reached out to the deck, holding their chosen cards close to their chest as if it were a card game. 

The Shadow Man stared at them for a moment, as if expecting them to do something before prompting, “How ‘bout I take a look at those cards now?”

Roman grinned sheepishly and placed his cards on the table. 

“Ah… now you, young man, are quite a prince,” Dr. Côté began. “A prince of fairy tales, really.” Roman thought he heard Remus huff beside him. “Your world is truly… perfect.” Something retreated inside Roman a little at the words, but he looked up when the Shadow Man asked, “But will it ever be anything else? Nothing is quite so disheartening as playing the same role all your life, huh? But when I look forward… I can see you’ll be more… very soon.”

The prince felt an anticipation swell inside him. Very soon.

Dr. Côté grinned down at Roman, then turned to Remus, peering at his cards. “Ah, yes. You’ve always been ambitious, hm?” Roman was shaken from his reverie and just barely kept from snorting. (Judging from the glare his brother aimed at him, he didn’t do a very good job.) Remus was ambitious if you considered chaotic enthusiasm to be ambition. But Dr. Côté just continued, “You could do more, be more, than they’d ever imagined. I know it. What are you going to do about it?”

Roman looked to Remus, and Remus looked down at his palms. A hand was outstretched for each of them to shake. “Well, boys?” 

The world was still for a moment. And then the black-clad prince’s hand shot out and shook the voodoo man’s, the other prince soon following suit.

“Very nice.” Dr. Côté’s smile grew leering. 

Then an orange smoke crept up Roman’s arm and into his mouth, and the world went dark.

A/N: Sorry, the ending came kinda fast 😅 I hope you enjoyed it anyway!! Please feel free to point out any mistakes you see, and keysmashes are VERY appreciated :D

Taglist: @midnightstorm-underthe-moon @meowthefluffy

[slashingdisneypasta]

Hewitts / Pleasant Valley x Fem!Reader || Oneshot

Title: The Multiverse Theory and the Horror Fandom 

Notes: 

I don't really know what it is, but I enjoyed creating it, so I’m posting it! If I get an idea as to what might happen next, I’ll probably add a part two. 

Its crack

Plot: 

Okay, you are from this universe and you are your Slasher fucker self. But you’re transported from your home, to the universe that the Slashers live in, specifically 2003 Texas Chainsaw Massacre. They capture you of course and decide to keep you.

Now the Hewitt’s have decided to go on a roadtrip and are of course taking you, their hostage, with them.

They end up staying in Pleasant Valley, despite your warnings not to. 

Warnings: Mention of real life people, breaking of the 3rd wall, if you look then there is some hints towards sexual assault cursing. Its comedy though mostly, so its pretty okay

~~~

“We’re lost.”

“No, mama, we not lost. We’re just taking the scenic route… “Hoyt transparently bullshits, looking around completely lost at the surroundings that we pass at a 100 km/h. Nothing but wheat fields and cows as far as the eye can see. Georgia is even more boring then Texas had been.

Luda Mae rolls her eyes, not taking any his shit after 6 hours in the car with him just today. God, I’m on her side. Can we stop somewhere just for a little bit? I mean, I don’t have to pee anymore since I held it for so long that the urge went away, but I’d still like to try because now I feel like I’m going to explode at any time. “So, we’re lost.” She announces, leaving no room for argument.

“Definitely lost… “Monty, in the seat beside me in the back seat of Hoyt’s tiny sheriff car, agrees with his sister, also watching the fields go by moodily. Why didn’t we take the goddamn truck, anyway? I would rather be tied to top of that, then squished back here between Thomas and Monty. I mean, there’s not even any doorhandles in the back here! Why did I have to be in the middle? Its not like I’m going to throw myself out the window! Sometimes I think Hoyt’s paranoid. And I hate him. And his ego’s too big.

Of course, Hoyt snaps back at Monty even though what he said was so mellow. It certainly didn’t have the amount of pent up frustration that Luda Mae’s had behind it. “We ain’t lost, goddamn it- Look! There’s a town. We’ll stop there and ask for directions if you really want. Just to make sure we’re going the right way, which I’m sure we are.” I look up from my hands, bruises all over the wrists from Hoyt and the ropes, and cuts all over the fingers from cooking with Luda Mae… and jagged fingernails from before I gave up. When I was still scratching at the walls and floor and Thomas, wanting to escape this mad family.

My fighting spirit isn’t completely crushed, now… but it has been a while since I screamed for help. I’m waiting for the moment, the right moment to try and escape. Of course, I don’t know if that moment will every come… but I still hope. And that’s something.

Now, looking up out the front window to see the town Hoyt’s talking about, I wonder if this will be the place that I’ll escape in.

Then we rush past the sign and I do a double take.

What did that say?!

I glance at Thomas, my designated warden to see what he’s doing now since he had been sleeping for most of today’s trip- yesterday he had stayed awake and alert, but today it seems that he decided I wasn’t about to crawl over anyone and creep through the window so it was cool to nap,- to see he’s alert, and when I look at him he turns to look at me back. I flash him a fake smile and turn to Monty, because he speaks. And he’s on the right side of the car, so he would have seen the sign.

“Hey, what did that sign say?”

“Why are they talking again?” Hoyt pipes up in the front as we get nearer to the town and I start to feel sick in my stomach. I raise my eyebrows at Monty instead of answering Hoyt’s goad.

Monty shrugs, leaning his back on his hand and looking out the window again. “Uh, Pleasant Valley.”

Oh my god.

It cannot be possible that more then one Horror movie exists in this world… right? I’ve been through enough trauma; I do not need to endure Robert Englund’s trademark craziness- oH, or Bill Mosely’s either. Oh god, - and his band of confederate lunatics. Do not do this to me, universe.

My heart’s beating faster then a bullet train as I wait, still as a statue and straight backed, for any more hints that I am where I think I am.

Thomas watches me with a hard stare, alert and suspicious about my odd change in posture and body language. I try to ignore him, which is of course hard, but I make do.

Then we start to pass people in this town, and they’re men in overalls and women in the most era-incorrect costumes I have ever seen. And they’re smiling and waving at us.

And I feel sick, and sink back into my seat so nobody outside can see me through Monty or Thomas, hopefully.

“Hoyt,” I call, quietly for the ‘sheriff’s’ attention. My voice doesn’t lift even to a normal volume, I’m so scared so he either ignores me or really doesn’t hear me. I try to be louder. “Hoyt!”

“Yes, hostage?”  

“I think we’re going the right way as well; I saw sign on the road a few miles back that said so. We should just keep going.”

“What?!” Luda Mae turns in her seat to look at me furrow her eyebrows- she doesn’t believe me one bit. “What are you doing, slouching in the back like that? Sit up!”

“Are we stopping?”

“Uhh… “She turns to look at Hoyt, and he nods. “Looks like it. About time, too. I need to stretch my legs, and we obviously need those damn directions.”

“We do not need the- “Hoyt sighs, exasperated, then furrows his eyebrows as he focuses on something in front of the car. “What the fuck are these wackos all doing out there in the middle of the road? Get outta my way… “

Mow them over, Hoyt! MOW THEM OVER.

Of course, he slows to a crawl and then a stop, and I thank god that the back windows don’t open, lest I feel any more in danger. If they were open, I definitely would have feared scary ghost cannibals would stick in their hands. As it is, cross my arms and let Hoyt do the talking. Of course, I mean. What else could I do?

I can see full frontal the mess that we’re getting into, which once upon a time in a different world -my world. Oh, how I wish I was there right now, - would have been a good sign. Seeing Kane Hodder, Robert Englund and Lin Shaye and the ‘Guts and Glory Jubilee’ banner would be a sign I’m about to have a good night full of horror movie enjoyment and probably fanfiction as well. But now I see it and I wish to never watch that movie again, much like the Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchise.

Hoyt puts his hand on the car door handle next to him. “No, no, no, don’t get outta the car!” I exclaim, quietly and reaching to grab him back but he looks over at me, gives me a ‘I do what I want’ kind of look and then gets out of the car.

“Good afternoon, sheriff! Welcome to our Guts and Glory Jubilee! You’re our honoured guests!”

Oh, dear god.

Hoyt slams his car door shut and Luda and I wince at the sudden noise. “What the hell are you people doing out here in the middle of the road??! Me and my family are tryna get through here.”

“Aw, my bad sheriff! We’re just so tickled to have you with us this fine day!” Buckman doesn’t seem stirred that Hoyt’s clearly southern, and therefore ‘confederate’, like him, as far as he’s concerned which is what I was hoping for, so I decide to blow this whole situation out of water- I have no choice.

And what, in hell’s name, could I possibly lose at this point?

I lean forward in the car, keeping an eye on the scene, to talk to Luda Mae. “Hey, so this may be a bad time to mention this but, uh.” How do I break this news? “Well, I’m from a different universe. That multiverse noise? That’s real. Anyway, more importantly, I’m from a world in which you and your sons, and Monty, are just movie characters. Your movie is called ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’, Thomas is the Texan Chainsaw guy and he is called Leatherface.” Luda’s slowly turning her head to look at me like have 7 eyeballs. I keep talking through, quickly ad feverishly, desperate. “I know it sounds crazy, and you can ask me any question about ya’ll’s passed if you want as proof but just get your son back in this car please. This place also has its own movie, and its even less pretty then what goes on in your house.” I look pleadingly at her, hoping to God, by some miracle she believes me.

“Sit back down!! I’ve been in a car with 3 sweatin’, stinky men for 6 hours now today and I am in no mood for your stories.” She turns back in her seat. “God.”  

“Oh Jesus, you said it… “ I whine, plopping back down in my seat, looking at Hoyt and Buckman who have now met in front of the car and aren’t yelling at each other across the road and immediately assume the fucking confederate mayor is successfully feeding the fucking fraudulent sheriff’s ego, and drop my face into my hands. A few minutes pass, and I stay like this, occasionally making frustrated crying sounds without really crying, and getting annoyed groans and ‘shut up’s from Monty beside me, until a hit to the car jolts me up. “What! What? What’s happening- are they attacking!?”

Everyone who heard, ignores me and I see it’s just Hoyt coming around the car opening Thomas’ side. Oh god, breeze has neve felt so terrifying. “Come on out, family. We’re stayin’ the night! I can’t tolerate settin’ in this car with you people anymore.” On no. No, no, no. STAYING?

Thomas gets out and Luda Mae follows, opening Monty’s door for him and letting him out onto his wheelchair that Thomas gets out of the trunk for him and unfolds. I cross my arms and stay inside. When Hoyt realises this, he leans down to peer inside the car at me and thrusts a thumb to point behind him. Slowly, menacingly he drawls. “Get out of this car.”

Oh, what is he going to do? What could he possibly do that he hasn’t already done to me.

I stubbornly look away. “You said family, I’m not family. I’m not leaving this car, no way. You can’t make me.”

“You wanna bet, sugar?”

He reaches in, wraps a calloused hand around one of my arms and starts pulling me until I topple out of the car, into the dirt. He lets go of me and immediately slams the car door closed again so I don’t slither back in.

“Fuck.” I mutter, glaring up at him from the floor. He locks the car in front of my eyes.

“Now, when you’re feeling more like an adult and not a child, you can come on to our room- that building over there. “ I feel like running after him when he walks off to the building, but before I can get myself out of the dusty, beige dirt, a hand enters my vision and I follow it up and scream on the inside. Mayor George Fucking Buckman.

He smiles so charmingly… you could nearly believe he isn’t depraved. Then I see the eyepatch and I’m reminded. “Would you let me help you up outta the dirt, little miss?”

Mmmm, I guess.

Best to stay on his good side, I think as I take his hand and he hauls me up. I don’t want to be on the receiving end of one of those glares that the whole town like to take part in with him. Noooo thank you. Not for me.

“Thank you.” I say quickly, looking to get out of there and find the Hewitt’s. They’ve all disappeared into the building Hoyt went towards a moment ago now. I brush the dirt off my pants and then clap my hands off of each other to get rid of the dirt that’s on them now, and any remnants of feeling Buckman’s hand, then flash a tight smile in Buckman’s general direction and escape towards the building.

They have to listen to me!

I burst into the place and see Thomas trailing behind the rest of that devil family down a hallway and run down there. “Thomas!” I pant, because that was a long hallway. Where are we now?! The Overlook hotel!?! “Thomas, what kind of warden are you? Please, don’t you ever leave me alone with that man ever again!” Thomas narrows his eyes suspiciously at me above his normal, leather mask -Luda and Hoyt had decided before we left their murder mansion that the human flesh mask would probably not fly in normal society, so he swapped it in for the old one,- then nods in front of him for me to walk there where can watch, and I gladly go there.

___TIME SKIP: A couple hours later___

All day, I have been trying to persuade the Hewitt’s that I’m not from here. I described Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning in explicit detail, including of course the Sheriff Hoyt thing, the Eric/Dean confusion, Bailey, Monty’s legs being chainsawed off… I even recruited some comic book information about Hoyt’s time in the Prisoner of War Camp and Sargent Chow, but they just think I’m a stalker now.

I mean, why the fuck not? Why wouldn’t I stalk these freaks? Truly, being around them has been a joy filled time.

I don’t throw back at my face that I watched their movies religiously, readers. That’s was when I thought they were fictional! (Yeah, I know you’re there reading this. This sure feels like a fanfiction to me, and as a fangirl, I’m an expert.)

So, I’ve decided I have one more option. One more chance to survive.

Hopefully this doesn’t go worse then plan A did.

Through pretending like the rope around my wrists was too tight when Hoyt tied me up by the hands to his bed frame, when really in truth it was a bit loose, I manage to make him think I’m stuck for the night. So, when he falls asleep – I know he’s asleep because he snores like a feral racoon… that also has rabies… (He drools) – I carefully, quietly, I struggle out of the ropes and carefully put them on the floor. Then turn to the window.

We’re on the second level of this building, but the possibility of a broken bone or two will not deter me from getting out of this mess. Especially since Thomas is waiting in the hallway outside this room for any sign of me trying to escape and getting hurt from falling out of a window is much preferred to meeting the business end of his chainsaw.

Not that I’ll be out of danger when I get out… as I’ll still be in Pleasant Valley… but I will have completed Level 1 at least.

Opening the window, I wince and look back at Hoyt to make sure the gentle rubbing sound the window makes against the frame doesn’t wake him, then turn back and immediately get to crawling out. Once I have succeeded in getting onto the ledge I hold on to the gutter - hoping beyond hope that it’s sturdy, - and reclose the blinds and push the window closed as well again. Covering my tracks.

Then I start the perilous journey down the building, which somehow, I succeed in! When I finally drop down on the dirt again and turn around though, I nearly out loud this time. “Miss Shaye! -“I stop myself, making an ‘Oop’ sound. You would think I would stop making these mistakes- I have been tortured and keep prisoner by the Hewitt family. Certainly not the late R. Lee. Ermey or Andrew Bryniarski either. The Hewitt’s. - But alas, I am still making this mistake apparently. “Sorry, you remind me of someone else!” I smile at Granny Boone, who must have been standing there watching the whole time I conquered the hotel building, stands with her hands on her hips and one eyebrow purposely halfway up her forward. She’s waiting for an explanation. “I didn’t want to wake up my family, and its time for the midnight stroll. Couldn’t sleep!”

My heartbeat races in my chest, because I have every confidence that this woman could kill me with her bare hands if she doesn’t like my answer. For a few moments, she makes me wait as she does looks at me suspiciously like Thomas. Oh god, are you going to eat me or not, ghost lady!?

“Oh, well that’s very considerate of you! Could I join you on your walk? I’m in the same boat.”

Oh, for fudges sake.

I smile politely though, and we start walking side by side down the middle of town. Silence hangs between us, but as we walk, I start to think this could work. I was planning on finding Buckman and telling him my story to see if he would believe me and do something because this whole town is supernatural and hard to believe, but I actually think this may have worked out in my favour! Maybe. He’s a sexist, chauvinistic bigot. But at the very least Boone’s a woman like me, with less of a boner for authority so hopefully she’ll at least listen. So… maybe…?

“So… “I start, sounding loud since it’s so quiet out here. “Can we talk? Woman to woman? I don’t know, you just seem trustworthy!” Oh, puke. What am I saying? “Sorry if I’m out of line, but… something crazy’s going on in my life.”

“Oh, trust me. I know crazy.” I side eye her as she smirks ‘mysteriously’. Oh, I know you know crazy, lady. I know. I know it all. You know crazy intimately. “Uh but go on. Sure thing. What kind of good Christian lady would I be if I didn’t bend an ear to our esteemed special guests?”

… Uhuh.

Well, okay! Works for me. “Thank you.” I clap my hands together. “Well. It started a month ago now, I guess… Haven’t really been able to keep up with time. First, I should probably explain the multiverse theory…”

[moviemunchies]

Alright I love this movie so I don’t know how objective of a review I can write. I have fond memories of this movie--we went and saw it as a class trip in middle school, and ever since it’s been one of my favorite fantasy films. I mean, yes, it totally came out when it did and padded its battle scenes out more because it was cashing in on the crowd of kids what like Lord of the Rings but that doesn’t make it bad, does it?

So, first things first-- no, The Chronicles of Narnia is NOT an allegory. Stop saying that. 

Anyhow I imagine most people who read this blog know the story, but if you don’t: during World War II the four Pevensie children, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy are sent to the countryside manor of Professor Kirk. While exploring the house, Lucy comes across a wardrobe, and within the wardrobe she enters another world called Narnia. Soon enough, they all make it there, but it turns out that there’s a prophecy about them, and the tyrant that’s taken hold of Narnia and cursed it with eternal winter, the White Witch, wants to kill them.

Also, one of them betrays them to the White Witch for the promise of supremacy over the lot of them. To be fair to poor Edmund, he was magically drugged, and he didn’t know she wanted to murder anyone.

So our siblings must seek out Aslan, the Great Lion and true king of Narnia (who is totes Jesus, still not an allegory) and end the reign of the White Witch!

Like I said, I have seen accusations that this was Disney’s cynical attempt to cash in on Lord of the Rings but aimed at children. And I don’t know that it’s wrong to say that, but it’s also short-selling this movie. I mean yes, a lot of this movie was filmed in New Zealand, and WETA Workshop did the effects for this movie.

But you guys know that WETA will work the shiz out of the effects and props, right? The level of detail on the design in this movie (and the sequels) is INSANE and look, I didn’t think that they’d go this hard on designing a story that many people think of as a souped-up children’s fairy tale, but they did and it is GLORIOUS. There are plenty of little details that you may have missed the first time watching that you pick up if you’re paying attention. Like you know that in the final battle Jadis is wearing Aslan’s mane on her collar?

[I have some of the concept art saved on my computer, btw.]

The character arcs are also great developments/additions? They’re not all true to the books, and I do kind of miss that. But I do understand WHY those changes were made. For example, in the novel Edmund’s dickishness is mentioned to be a result of the terrible school experiences he had (Lewis didn’t much like the English education system). Here, to tie it into the other characters his acting out is in large part because his father’s been absent during the war, and butting heads with Peter.

Skandar Keyes is a fantastic Edmund. He gets better in the next movie, but in this one he conveys a lot of the conflict within Edmund, so that he’s sympathetic as the movie goes on, even if he does a lot of things that are pretty terrible (for a child, for the record--it’s not that he really gets into a lot of grade-A evil).

Peter’s characterization is made much more explicit as the older brother who is sometimes a little too hard on his siblings. I think William Mosely does a fairly good job. He gets annoying as an older brother sometimes, but that’s the point, and it makes sense how he and Edmund would be butting heads.

Probably to act as foreshadowing for what happens to her later in the series, Susan is the skeptical one, the logical one, the one asking questions about what the heck is going on and trying to make sense of it all. I think they lean a little too hard into this at times--she starts telling Peter to put down his sword when they’re surrounded by wolves. Otherwise I like that she has a much stronger character arc than in the novel, and Anna Popplewell does well with it. I mean, she’s still pretty likable, and you can see that she is someone trying to achieve the best for her family.

Georgia Henley’s a great Lucy. It would be very easy for this role to be annoying and it’s not, it’s quite lovable. Lucy’s very young and innocent, and in some stories this would play against her, but in this story (both book and movie) it’s kind of her strength? She’s endearing, she’s lovable, and that’s what you need in Lucy Pevensie.

Also we should probably talk about how the child characters are aged up a bit. Of course, this being Hollywood and trying to do action scenes with a twelve-year-old would be… unwise, I get it. But it is a bit weird that Peter and Susan are being sent off to the countryside when, even allowing for Dawson Casting, they’re old enough to stick around their family. They’re not really children. I don’t mind, but it is a case against it as an adaptation, and it works a bit against the logic of the film.

Also Tilda Swinton is having a ball as Jadis, the White Witch. She doesn’t really look like the character description, but she’s fantastic as a cruel and haughty queen, and really, no one does weird ethereal and near inhuman beauty like Tilda Swinton. She apparently had so much fun with the role and the people at Walden Media liked her so much that they put her in the next two movies with whatever scrap of justification they could grab.

Liam Neeson voices Aslan and does a good job. Don’t know if there’s that much that makes him stand out other than needing a serious actor to do the voice. It’s good, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t know if there’s anything in this film that makes Neeson a better choice than any other particularly famous actor.

[Apparently for one of these movies, Neeson took his family on safari to “prepare for the role” which is silly but hey if you can take your family on safari and excuse it as a work trip, why not?]

Final word before the sendoff: the CGI in this movie is still pretty good? It’s not perfect--watching it this past time made me think how something about the Beavers still looks noticeably artificial. But they still look fairly realistic. And I know it’s been said before, but the animal characters in this movie are incredibly expressive despite also looking like real animals, a trick that seemed impressive then, but after _The Lion King_ remake came out a couple years back, one of the defenses of the lack of expressive characters in that film was “Well we wanted them to look realistic!”

And DISNEY, the studio that released both movies, did THIS one FIFTEEN YEARS EARLIER, and also WITH A LION, and managed to make Aslan convey facial expressions and emotions through impressive CGI! WHAT THE FUDGE!

If you like the fantasy works of C.S. Lewis, I imagine you will like this film, unless you’re very strict about adaptations being close to the works they’re inspired by. Even then, I think it’s a pretty good adaptation, and that the changes made are those that make for a better cinematic viewing experience. If you’re not as familiar with the source material but you like fantasy, and children’s stories, you’ll probably like this movie.

Like I said, I have seen some people accuse this movie of being a lower-tier Lord of the Rings cash-in. I don’t think that’s the case, but if you’re very interested in serious fantasy and war stories, this movie’s not going to work for you. I don’t think there’s any blood at all in the film; if there is, it’s very little. Which considering the amount of action and the battle sequence in the climax is maybe a bit egregious.

I think it’s a good movie and a pretty solid adaptation of one of the foundational texts of the modern fantasy genre. Take a watch.

[newstfionline]

Saturday, January 9, 2021

Canada's Ontario says 'more extreme measures' on the table as COVID-19 cases rise (Reuters) Ontario is considering “more extreme measures” on top of the widespread lockdowns in place, the premier said on Friday, after the Canadian province reported a second straight day of record-breaking COVID-19 cases. “I’ve never stressed this so much, all the way going back to March, as I am now: We are in a crisis,” Premier Doug Ford told reporters, begging people to wear masks, wash their hands and stop gathering in groups. The warning from Canada’s most populous province comes as Quebec, the worst affected province from the pandemic, is set to start a nightly curfew on Saturday. Ford said if people did not better follow public health guidelines “we will have to look at more extreme measures. … Everything is on the table right now.”

Capitol Attack Leads Democrats to Demand That Trump Leave Office (NYT) President Trump’s administration plunged deeper into crisis on Thursday as more officials resigned in protest, prominent Republicans broke with him and Democratic congressional leaders threatened to impeach him for encouraging a mob that stormed the Capitol a day earlier. What was already shaping up as a volatile final stretch to the Trump presidency took on an air of national emergency as the White House emptied out and some Republicans joined Speaker Nancy Pelosi and a cascade of Democrats calling for Mr. Trump to be removed from office without waiting the 13 days until the inauguration of President-elect Joseph R. Biden Jr. The prospect of actually short-circuiting Mr. Trump’s tenure in its last days appeared remote. But the highly charged debate about Mr. Trump’s capacity to govern even for less than two weeks underscored the depth of anger and anxiety after the invasion of the Capitol that forced lawmakers to evacuate, halted the counting of the Electoral College votes for several hours and left people dead, including a Capitol Hill police officer who died Thursday night.

With Democrats in Control, Biden Moves to Advance Agenda (NYT) With his victory recognized by Congress and his party set to control both the House and Senate, President-elect Joseph R. Biden Jr. moved on Thursday to fill out his cabinet, while his aides and allies drafted plans for an ambitious legislative agenda headlined by $2,000 stimulus checks to individual Americans. The president-elect’s ability to push through key parts of his agenda and win confirmation of his cabinet selections received a significant lift this week, as Democrats picked up two Senate seats in Georgia, resulting in a 50-50 split. Vice President-elect Kamala Harris has the power to cast the tiebreaking vote, which would give Democrats control of the chamber. As part of what he has pledged will be a next round of economic assistance, Mr. Biden is expected to move quickly to gain passage of $2,000 stimulus checks—which were a big focus in the Georgia elections—along with expanded unemployment benefits, aid to state and local governments and additional relief for small businesses.

Police Failures Spur Resignations and Complaints (NYT) Six days before a raucous rally of President Trump’s supporters in Washington, Representative Maxine Waters anxiously grilled the chief of the Capitol Police about his preparations for various scenarios. Ms. Waters, a California Democrat, said each of her concerns was met with a similar response from Chief Steven Sund during their hourlong call: “He assured me that they have everything under control, that they were on top of everything.” They weren’t. Instead an angry mob of pro-Trump extremists swarmed the barricades around the Capitol on Wednesday, spraying chemical irritants and wielding lead pipes, injuring more than 50 officers. They battered doors, broke windows and scaled the walls, rampaging through the building as congressional leaders made desperate calls for help. The Capitol Police seemed to offer little resistance and arrested only 14 people. Chief Sund handed in his resignation on Thursday after pressure from congressional leaders.      Policing experts noted the absence of crowd-control tools such as mounted officers, police dogs or a heavily manned perimeter. Pentagon officials said Thursday that the Capitol Police had turned down an offer for additional National Guard troops before Wednesday’s storming of the Capitol, and two law enforcement officials said they had initially rebuffed help from the F.B.I. as the mob descended. But others in law enforcement insisted that the president’s encouragement of the mob could not have been anticipated. “No one expected the president to say, ‘Hey guys, let’s all go down to the Capitol and show them who’s boss,’” said Jose Cervino, who worked for the department for 14 years and helped plan security for large events and protests. Mr. Cervino defended the hesitancy to use weapons, saying the department’s primary mandate was to protect the lawmakers, not the building. “We have the members and we have the leadership secured. Is it correct to start shooting people?” Mr. Cervino asked. “I can’t imagine that I would be happier today if we found out we kept the crowd out, but wound up shooting 40 people.”

Capitol siege raises security concerns for Biden inaugural (AP) The violent insurrection at the U.S. Capitol is intensifying scrutiny over security at an inauguration ceremony for President-elect Joe Biden already reshaped by a pandemic and the prospect that his predecessor may not attend. Biden and Vice President-elect Kamala Harris will take the oath of office from the Capitol’s West Front, one of the very locations where a violent mob overpowered police and stormed the building. They also scaled and occupied the scaffolding and bleachers in place for the ceremonies. The congressional leaders responsible for coordinating the inauguration insisted Thursday night that events will move forward. Security forces have already begun taking extra precautions in the wake of Wednesday’s mayhem. Roughly 6,200 members of the National Guard from six states—Virginia, Pennsylvania, New York, New Jersey, Delaware and Maryland—will help support the Capitol Police and other law enforcement in Washington for the next 30 days. Crews also erected on the Capitol grounds tall, black metal fences designed to be impossible to climb. Those who have worked on previous inaugurations said that while this year’s events will look different, the tradition of passing power from one administration to another will continue. President Trump, however, has confirmed that he will not attend the inauguration.

Some U.S. Capitol rioters fired after internet detectives identify them (Reuters) Some of the rioters who stormed the U.S. Capitol were fired from their jobs on Thursday after internet sleuths publicized their identities. The District of Columbia police department released photos of people in Wednesday's melee and potential charges against them. Some 68 people were arrested after angry protesters stormed the building, breaking windows, damaging fixtures and stealing furnishings. The FBI also asked the public to help it identify rioters, a call that drew ribbing on social media in light of the prolific coverage of the event. This included selfies posted by participants and videos of President Donald Trump's supporters at area hotels before the attack. Some individuals who had previously been photographed at Trump rallies and supporters of the QAnon conspiracy-theory movement were quickly identified. Online detectives focused their efforts on others. "Let's name and shame them!," read one Twitter thread here devoted to outing participants.

Vaccine rollout hits snag as health workers balk at shots (AP) The desperately awaited vaccination drive against the coronavirus in the U.S. is running into resistance from an unlikely quarter: Surprising numbers of health care workers who have seen firsthand the death and misery inflicted by COVID-19 are refusing shots. It is happening in nursing homes and, to a lesser degree, in hospitals, with employees expressing fears of side effects from vaccines that were developed at record speed. More than three weeks into the campaign, some places are seeing as much as 80% of the staff holding back. “I don’t think anyone wants to be a guinea pig,” said Dr. Stephen Noble, a 42-year-old cardiothoracic surgeon in Portland, Oregon, who is postponing getting vaccinated. “At the end of the day, as a man of science, I just want to see what the data show. And give me the full data.” Stormy Tatom, 30, a hospital ICU nurse in Beaumont, Texas, said she decided against getting vaccinated for now “because of the unknown long-term side effects.” “I would say at least half of my coworkers feel the same way,” Tatom said.

Freezing Madrid braces for heaviest snowfall in decades (Reuters) Spain’s capital Madrid and much of the neighbouring region of Castilla-La Mancha were on high alert on Friday for what meteorologists expect to be the heaviest snowfall in decades, brought by the Storm Filomena. Such events are rare in the region and tend to be disruptive to daily life and mobility, coming at a time when people are returning home after Christmas and New Year holidays. This year, however, there is less traffic than usual due to restrictions to curb the coronavirus pandemic. With up to 20 cm (nearly 8 inches) of snow forecast in 24 hours and temperatures expected to hover around zero centigrade for much of the day, the south of the Madrid region, including the capital, is on its highest level of alert for the first time since the system was created in 2007.

The Pandemic Helped Reverse Italy’s Brain Drain. (NYT) When Elena Parisi, an engineer, left Italy at age 22 to pursue a career in London five years ago, she joined the vast ranks of talented Italians escaping a sluggish job market and lack of opportunities at home to find work abroad. But in the past year, as the coronavirus pandemic forced employees around the world to work from home, Ms. Parisi, like many of her compatriots, seized on the opportunity to really go home, to Italy. In between Zoom meetings and her other work for a recycling company in London, she took long strolls on the beach near her family’s home in Palermo, Sicily, and talked recipes at dawn with vendors in the local market. “The quality of life is a thousand, thousand times better here,” said Ms. Parisi, who is now in Rome. As with so many things, the virus has upended a familiar phenomenon—this time Italy’s longstanding brain drain. Italy, along with Romania and Poland, is among the European countries that send the most workers abroad, according to figures from the European Commission. Taking into account the money the country spends on their education, Italy’s brain drain costs the country an estimated 14 billion euro (about $17 billion) every year. The Italian government has welcomed the return of some of the country’s best and brightest as a silver lining to what has been a brutal pandemic for Italy, calling the shift a “great opportunity.”

Kyrgyzstan votes (Foreign Policy) Voters in Kyrgyzstan go to the polls on Sunday to vote for a new president and decide a referendum on constitutional reforms. Acting Prime Minister Sadyr Japarov has been touted as the likely winner, if he can pass the 50 percent threshold necessary to avoid a runoff. Victory would cap an unlikely rise for Japarov after he was sprung from jail in October during unrest over disputed legislative elections. Japarov had been serving an 11-year sentence for kidnapping.

Gold in India (Rest of World) India is one of the largest global consumers of gold, buying 700 tons annually, with an estimated 25,000 tons of gold stockpiled by Indian citizens, a value three times the reserves of gold held by the U.S. government. Gold is frequently given to female babies as a gift and included later as part of their dowries, but it’s also an incredibly useful asset in terms of gaining access to credit by using it as collateral. Manappuram Finance, a large lender, offers gold-backed loans, and customers such as independent business owners and farmers on average borrow $612 several times per year, with under 1 percent defaulting. The two largest gold lenders in India hold 248 tons of it, which is more than Australia has in reserve.

China city offers cash for tip on test evaders (AP) A city in northern China is offering rewards of 500 yuan ($77) for anyone who reports on a resident who has not taken a recent coronavirus test. The offer from the government of Nangong comes as millions in the city and its surrounding province of Hebei are being tested as part of efforts to control China’s most serious recent outbreak of COVID-19. The offering of cash or other rewards for information on political or social nonconformists has a long history in China, but the pandemic is putting a new face on the practice. Those found noncompliant will be forced to undergo testing and a two-week quarantine at their own expense.

Can’t go to ski resort? South Koreans rush to buy sledges, enjoy sledding near home (Reuters) With South Korea’s ski resorts closed in recent weeks to help combat COVID-19, heavy snowfalls have led to a surge in sales of sledges as winter sports lovers look for family friendly snow slopes close to home. Major retailers have run out of stocks of plastic sledges, with E-Mart, the country’s biggest supermarket chain, selling nearly 2,200 sledges in six days, more than three times its total 2020 sales. After heavy snowfalls earlier in the week, children played outdoors even as the temperature in Seoul plummeted to -18.6 Celsius (-1.5 Fahrenheit) on Friday, the coldest in 35 years.

Almost 2.3 million people need aid in Ethiopia’s Tigray: U.N. report (Reuters) Fighting is still going on in several parts of Ethiopia’s northern Tigray region and almost 2.3 million people, or nearly half of the population, need aid, a U.N. report said. The report, the most comprehensive public assessment of the humanitarian situation in Tigray since conflict erupted there on Nov. 4, was posted online late on Thursday. It said food supplies were very limited, looting was widespread and insecurity remained high.

Uganda’s election shapes up as a contest of young vs. old (Washington Post) Uganda is an overwhelmingly young country, led by a 76-year-old seeking a sixth term as president. Two-thirds of registered voters are under the age of 30, which means Yoweri Museveni has led Uganda for their whole lives. His main challenger in next week’s election is a 38-year-old musician who was a toddler when Museveni took power as leader of an armed rebellion. And so the contest between the grandfatherly incumbent and the spindly singer-turned-politician, Bobi Wine, has come to embody the most essential of democratic divides: change vs. stability, idealism vs. wisdom, the frustrated young vs. the fearful old. Who wins may come down to how many young people buy into Museveni’s warnings that a vote against him is a vote for destabilization. But the outcome also hinges on whether Wine and his supporters can withstand the repressive tactics Museveni’s security forces have unleashed in recent months that may escalate as election day nears. Since announcing his candidacy, Wine has been arrested three times, as have at least 600 attendees of his rallies. Police say they violated pandemic protocols against large gatherings. His bodyguard was killed, his lawyer arrested, reporters who cover his campaign have had their accreditation revoked, and after Wine’s second arrest, protests were met with bullets and at least 54 were killed.

Books (Publishers Weekly) Sales of print books were up 8.2 percent in 2020 year-over-year, according to NPD BookScan, with 750.9 million books sold. That’s up from 693.7 million in 2019, and is a solid performance, especially given the tumultuous spring market. Books for children and young adults saw sales explode: in nonfiction—a staple of attempting to learn from a place that is not a school—juvenile sales were up 23.1 percent and young adult nonfiction was up 38.3 percent, and on the fiction side, the juvenile segment was up 11 percent and YA was up 21.4 percent. Adults bought more books too—nonfiction was up 4.8 percent and fiction was up 6 percent.

[dam-those-words]

15 Questions Tag Game!

I was (kinda) tagged by @georgiacambrielwritblr!

Rules: Pick a character (or two in my case) from your WIP and have them answer these 15 questions, then tag 15 people!

(Also, I already had this post done but when I tried to post it Tumblr went Thud appearently and deleted it instead, so I had to start over. Sorry for the long wait Georgia lol)

1. What is your full name?

" I'm Aniol Kaminski," The dirty-blonde male on the interviewer's right ruffles his red and gold wings. It takes most of the interviewer's willpower to not stare at them while shaking his hand; of course they've seen wings before, but never like these.

"Mattea Sarai," Says the platinum blonde on the interviewer's left. She completely disregards the interviewers outstretched hand and instead sits back in her wooden chair and crosses her arms.

2. What does it mean?

"Mine means something like, 'Stone Angel,' in Polish, so that's pretty cool." Aniol's voice is a growly-type deep, and paired with his thick accent, it takes the interviewer a second the realize what he said.

"You're so lucky. [Throwback to when his name was actually Lucky lmao] My name means some bullshit like, 'Princess,' or 'God's Gift,' or something. Makes me wanna barf just thinking about it." Mattea says, making a puking gesture.

"Woah there, young lady. Who taught you to cuss?" Aniol grins at her, but the way he flashes it makes it seem more like baring his teeth.

Mattea raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'Who taught you to cuss?' Have you heard yourself?" She leans forward in her wooden chair, putting her elbows on her knees.

Aniol leans forward, copying Mattea. He whispers-- well more like growls-- something too quiet for the interviewer to hear, but makes the rage in Mattea's eyes simmer.

The tension in the room makes the interviewer realize that the wooden table in between them would do nothing if the got into a fight as bad as they'd been rumored to. The interviewer clears their throat and asks the next question.

3. Do you two have any nicknames or other names?

"I don't really have any, but this little devil does call me Bird Boy more often than she calls me Aniol," Aniol nodded towards the girl across the wooden table.

Mattea had snatched a peanut butter cookie from the gold-lined plate in the middle of the table, and now had a mouthful of cookie. She somehow still managed to say, "Are you forgetting about Jexi calling you Ann? Like, Ann of Green Gables?"

Aniol simply rolls his eyes, replying, "I'm not forgetting, I'm just ignoring the fact that you've appearently eavesdropped. And don't talk while eating,"

"Its not like I try to listen to everything that happens in your guys' rooms, especially at night when you guys--"

"Anyway, why don't you tell them what your nickname is?" His cheeks are a bright red as he talks.

Mattea smiles, relaxing a little and shrugging. "I don't really have any, either. Oh, well, Mayson calls me Matt sometimes. But other than that, none."

4. What's your gender?

"Male, obviously," Aniol says, the pink already fading.

"Female," Mattea answers.

"God, we're so boring. I wish we had Dani so they could spice it up," There's a tinge of sadness in his voice. He frowns down at his hands where he holds a small paperclip he had been figiting with, his short and jagged hair falling into his eyes.

Mattea's eyebrows scrunch for a split second before a mask of arrogance passes over he features, and she says, "Speak for yourself, amigo. I'm the most interesting out of the entire Assassin's."

Aniol's returning look is so full of an emotion that the interviewer can't place, but still makes them look away and clear their throat yet again.

5. What is your sexuality?

"I'm pansexual," Aniol says quickly, sitting back in his chair and grabbing a cookie.

The confusion must have shown on the interviewer's face, since Aniol adds on, in a matter-of-fact tone, "It means that I can like anyone, regardless of their gender."

The interviewer nods and turns towards Mattea for an answer.

She had become a completely different person than she was about five seconds ago: she had somehow scrunched in on herself, grabbing her arms as if she were cold. Her lips were pursed.

"I--uh, I don't... I think--" Mattea is interrupted again by Aniol, but this time her expression changes to relief instead of amusement.

"We've talked about it before, and Mattea would like to not answer that question. If we could move on, that'd be great." He says in the same matter-of-fact tone as earlier.

6. Where are you from?

"Poland, though you can probably tell," Aniol says, his accent somehow becoming thicker than before.

Mattea clears her throat, the tension slowly leaving her body. "I'm from here. Akida."

7. How old are you?

"I'm 25. I was born on October 2nd, 2005." Aniol says.

"I'm only two years younger than him, and yet he somehow thinks that he's sooo--" Mattea does jazz hands as she speaks. "--much smarter and wiser than me, even though I obviously am the smarter one."

Aniol rolls his eyes, throwing the last bit of his cookie at her. He hits her directly in the forehead. His eyes go wide.

There's a moment of silence before they both burst out laughing. It fills the small room, and the interviewer can't help but join them.

8. Any special talents?

"Not really. I mean, I'm pretty good at baseball, but my wings get in the way for any sport." Aniol ruffles his wings again in emphasis. The interviewer silently thanks themselves again for remembering to get a special chair to accommodate his wings.

"I'm good at using most weapons, besides those stupid miscellaneous ones. I'm also good at braiding my own hair, which is something even Jexi can't do." Mattea figits with her hair tie, throwing Aniol an arrogant grin.

"Hey, you should put all that on your future resumes. I'm great at weapons, also known as murder, I can tie my hair back like any normal human, and I can be incredibly stupid! I'm the whole package!" Aniol mocks, making his deep voice extremely high.

The interviewer tenses, but is pleasantly surprised when all Mattea does is laugh and look expectantly for the next question.

9. Any kids?

Mattea bark-laughs again, shaking her head vigorously.

Aniol only shrugs his shoulders and says, "In the future, if my partner wants them. But none right now,"

10. What's your aesthetic?

Mattea interrupts Aniol before he has a chance to open his mouth, ticking the subjects off on her fingers as she talks, "Water fountains, pale roses, lip balm, pastel colors, stationary--"

It's Aniol's turn to cut her off, asking what an aesthetic is.

"It's like... your vibes. Like, for you it would be something like... maybe lots of grey and orange things." Mattea explains.

"That sounds stupid, but whatever. I guess mine is cobblestone, rain... uh, bright orange feathers and pumpkins. I don't know what it means, don't laugh at me!" He adds when Mattea tries to cover her laugh up with a cough.

11. Who's your best friend?

"Jexi,"

"Are you sure it's only best friend? Nothing else?" Mattea prods at Aniol's answer.

"Oh shut up. What about you and Mayson, huh?" He snaps back. Her cheeks turn as red as Aniol's cheeks earlier.

"That's not important,"

"Mhm," Though their words suggest tension, their eyes are full of amusement.

12. Would you ever get piercings or tattoos?

"I already have a tattoo," Aniol says, pulling up his grey sleeve to show a black and white tattoo of an arrow on his bicep.

"Wait, when did you get that?" Mattea asks, leaning forward to see it better.

"Jexi gave it to me when we were nineteen,"

Mattea's eyebrows rise. "Jexi did? And you still refuse to acknowledge the fact that she's--"

"Did I not make myself clear, Matt?" Aniol snarls, letting his sleeve fall down.

Mattea snarls right back.

The interviewer hastily asks the next question, hoping to change their focus onto them.

13. When are you happiest?

Aniol throws Mattea one last death glare before ruffling his wings yet again. "When I'm flying,"

"With a certain someone," Mattea tries to whisper but the interviewer hears her anyway, smirking.

"Do you have a death wish or what, Matt?"

"Name a time when I didn't,"

Aniol starts to respond but is cut off by the interviewer, still desperately hoping to get through this interview without a fight. The interviewer asks Mattea the question again.

"If I'm honest, I really like sketching. And archery. And I do like to banter with this idiot," She smiles again, but it's (thankfully) filled with much less venom than before.

That quickly, the tension leaves the room. The interviewer was amazed at their ability to start and end an argument in less than a minute. No wonder these two were always in trouble.

14. What's your biggest secret?

"Oooh, that's a good one. Why don't you go first, Aniol?" Mattea claps her hands, threading them together and putting them on her now crossed legs.

"Oh, uh. I guess... I'm terrified of spiders. Like, I hate then with my whole being,"

Mattea seemingly can't help but laugh at that, trying again and failing at turning it into a cough.

"Hey, you're scared of them, too! Don't you remember when you made Noah switch sleeping bags with you because you thought there was a spider in yours?" Aniol hastily defends himself.

"Yeah, but," Mattea is laughing so hard she can barely talk.

It takes longer than the interviewer would have liked for Mattea to finally calm down, and to ask the question again.

"I think my biggest secret is how I got this necklace and why." Mattea answers, holding out a silver chain with a half-cresent moon dangling on it.

When she doesn't continue, the interviewer decides to move on and get this interview over with.

15. Last question: What's the first thing you notice about people?

"Hmm. I think I notice how they move firstly. That alone tells you a lot about them," Mattea answers, nodding at her own answer.

A grin creeps onto Aniol's face at her, but he only says, "I notice their eye or lips first. I don't really know why, and I honestly should notice their movement first, but," He shrugs.

-

Oh jeez, I'm sorry for the long post lmao!

And idk about 15 people, since tumblr might decide to not actually tag them, but I'll try as many as I can think of!

@supersockosis @toboldlywrite @quillwritten @quilloftheclouds @fruzsiwrites @reeseweston @writeness @bartlebyboys @pens-swords-stuff @msmeaghanrey

As always, you dont have to do this is you dont want to (or already did it), and if I didnt tag you feel free to do it anyway and say I tagged you!

[eurosong]

2018 vs 2019: Semi-final 1

Hey there, folks! Every year after the national final season is over, one of the first things I write about Eurovision is a comparison of the new year’s songs with those of the previous year. Often it gets folk unfollowing the blog even though it’s almost entirely posts about ESC statistics and only a relatively small amount on rating the songs here. These are just my thoughts and no offence intended to anyone who thinks otherwise. Without further ado, click below to take a look at my thoughts on semi-final one!

◯ Australia – 2019 – Last year, Oz sent “We got love” (or “We got l’œuf” as I renamed it), which was a dizzying collection of clichés, got a mediocre placement and might well have been the impetus for them finally biting the bullet and getting the punters involved in the thitherto long mooted national final. This decision might not benefit their chances of keeping up their qualification record in the long run – but it means, for once, that Australia can move outside a narrow box musically and send things that would never be picked by internal selectors. “Zero gravity” was a less astute choice than “2000 & Whatever” would have been, I feel – it sounds to be like something that people think is so Eurovision who haven’t seen it in some time. Nonetheless, homegirl has pipes, the tune is quite catchy and it’s a hell of a lot more interesting than last year’s song.

◯ Belarus – 2018 – whilst I’ll be talking about 2018 vs 2019, I have to take a quick detour almost right away to 2017. It was the first time that Belarus managed to sustain my interest and get into my personal top 10 since their début, and they did so by going authentic and finally showing some love for their national language on the ESC stage. One year later, and I certainly wasn’t enthused by a carpetbagging victory of a non-local singing a rather ordinary song in English or some approximation thereof.

And yet, “Forever” and its earnest performer grew on me, especially the strange dissonance between the hopeful lyrics and the very melancholy music. After a similar number of repeated listens, “Like it” has not sparked even the briefest flame. Musically, this starts off with an inoffensive if very 2005 Spanish guitar riff, arrives at a decent-ish bridge and then throws itself off it head first into an absolutely dreadful thumping, repetitive chorus which is reprised way too much in the rest of the song. Lyrically, they put about as much effort into the words as they did into the “screensaver with default font” they were using as a background as Zena performed. She repeats “yes, you’re gunna like it” 40 times in the space of 3 minutes – one every 4.5 seconds. Maybe she’s trying to psychologically condition us, but no, Zena, I ent gunna like it at all. In a delicious bit of irony, it’s also at time of writing the least “liked” ESC ’19 song on Youtube. Strong preference to 2018.

◯ Belgium – 2019 – It can be difficult for a country to come back after a peak moment for them with something equally good that also manages to win over the fans and juries. We’ve seen it in Latvia after “Love injected”, in Estonia after “Goodbye to yesterday” and I think we’re seeing it once again with Belgium after “City lights”. Neither this year’s song nor last’s comes anywhere near the anthemic, emotional power of Blanche’s song. Both are nice enough, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Eliot struggled much as Sennek did last year. I give it a slight preference, but both songs are really let down, I feel, by choruses that don’t pay off the drama built in the verses.

◯ Cyprus – Neither – I try to limit myself to as few “neither” choices as possible in these games because the fun is in having to choose, sometimes, between two difficult options. Nonetheless, I abhorred “Fuego” in every conceivable way and this aptly-named “replay” offers little different to those who weren’t fans of it. If I had to pick, I’d go with 2018, because at least it doesn’t have the sadness of attempting to catch lightning twice in the same jar attached to it.

◯ Czechia – 2019 – Two years, two rather uncomfortable entries from the Czechs in a row. Last year, we had a predatory ��Blurred lines” light, while this year, whilst less lyrically degrading, still has weird lines about eavesdropping on people having sex through the walls(?)… but it’s enough to secure a slight preference.

◯ Estonia – 2018 – It seems like such a long time has passed since the days when I consistently found Eesti Beesti, since those days when Eesti Laul seemed experimental and had a decent number of songs in their native language. I’m no fan of popera, but at least Elina was a local talent. It’s bewildering when a country with so many great artists can’t find someone with any real association with it to sing for them. Though both are ultimately derivative, I prefer La forza to what is essentially an aviici b-side.

◯ Finland– 2018 – I have a pet peeve for national finals where you are presented with a single choice of artist. Unless said artist is very versatile (say, Frances Ruffelle, who took on dark pop, ballads and gospel-tinged anthems in her solo national final back in 1994), you are restricted to a narrow set of genres. If you don’t like that artist or their style, then you’re shit out of luck. That’s been the case for the last few years with Saara Aalto and now Darude. I didn’t really like ány of either’s songs and miss the days of a diverse choice in UMK. I pick Saara because her throwback was slightly more tolerable.

◯ Georgia– 2018 – Fair play to Georgia, who always dance to the beat of their very own peculiar drummer. You’d think that the shift to the X Factor format to pick their representative, combined with the cold reception for their “ethno-jazz” last year, would have led to them playing it safe to try to avoid three DNQs in a row. Instead they’ve gone for something downbeat, angry and almost oppressive in its ambiance, i.e. something even less accessible to the general viewer than last year. This feels like the rock song equivalent to a war crimes tribunal. I preferred last year’s effort, which was rather more uplifting, and which I felt was unfairly underrated for a genuinely well-composed piece of music steeped in tradition.

◯ Greece – 2019 – A number of people around me were raving for Oneiro mou last year. I wasn’t one of them and suspected it would fail to qualify from the get-go. Instead of “Greece returning to form”, it felt like them attempting to do so but ending up with a nationalistic pastiche instead. This year, they’ve taken their usual mould and smashed it with a hammer, going in a very different direction with a delightfully husky-voiced singer and a musically anthemic piece that manages to compensate, for me, the song’s lyrical shortcomings. I enjoy it a fair bit more.

◯ Hungary – 2018 – This is one of the hardest ones of this semi final to choose, as “Viszlát nyar” and “Az én apam” are chalk and cheese, but both highly qualitative and with meaningful lyrics. Joci’s other ESC song, Origo, beat Viszlát nyar for me, but his 2019 effort doesn’t have quite the same visceral punch to it, so I think I’m going to have to give the edge to AWS this time around.

◯ Iceland – 2019 – Another country giving us night and day, but this time, I like neither of the two choices. Last year certainly put the “cheese” in the old “chalk and cheese” saying, an unbelievably overwrought and soppy Christmas charity-esque tune that somehow ended up at ESC. This year, it’s something rather acerbic, dingy, grating and ultimately gimmicky. In these times, “hate will prevail” is the last message we need. I will take it over Ari any day though, as that was just squirmworthy.

◯ Montenegro  – 2018 – It seemed that, last year, Montenegro was back to doing what it has always done best – a haunting, beautiful Balkan ballad after a few bizarre years of experiments gone wrong. Unfortunately, Inje got slept on despite its quality and couldn’t bring about an end to CG’s DNQ streak. There were many candidates in this year’s Montevizija that could have gone one better and done just that – but instead, bewilderingly, we got this unspeakable jumble which sounds like it was a rejected b-side for a mediocre mid-90s boy band, but with the addition of Random Casio Noises® in the background. Comparing Inje to it is likening fine wine to a bottle of Panda Cola that has been left with the cap off in the sun for 2 weeks.

◯ Poland – 2019 – Last year, Poland sent a middle-aged man in a hat doing a cringey snake dance whilst a young, inexplicably Swedish guy sort of sang and the whole thing sounded like the soundtrack for a Coke advert gone wrong. This year, they’ve got some women swaying like maniacs in a forest where they probably buried their patriarch. Not much of a step up in theory, but a big step up nonetheless…

◯ Portugal– 2019 – Portugal is a country that could have peaked with their first win, or fallen into a niche in a sad attempt (*cough* Cyprus *cough*) to recapture that glory. Instead, they are challenging all the tropes and have a national final with some serious diversity. I loved “O jardim” and it deserved way better, but this year’s song, “Telemóveis”, exceeds even that. It’s a haunting but catchy as hell rumination on mortality, technology and saudade with a musical backdrop whose influences transcend continents. If it’s not in the running to win the whole thing, I will be disappointed.

◯ San Marino – 2018 – I cannot get my head around the enthusiasm for “Say na na na”, which seems to have been contracted not only by postmodern pisstakers but by many folk who genuinely like it. It makes me cringe 10x more than Jenny B’s not quite sick rap skills last year, and that’s saying something. Plus, they had robots.

◯ Serbia – 2019 – They seemed like really nice people, but I found last year’s Serbian entry itself to be a bit of a minestrone into which a dozen elements of other songs were chucked in, and thus was lacking a bit in coherence. “Kruna”, on the other hand, is perfectly-formed, poignant, beautifully orchestrated and one of the best Balkan ballads in the past few years.

◯ Slovenia – 2018 – Fair play to Slovenia for picking themselves up and dusting themselves off after a few rough years. Hvala ne was backed by almost no one to qualify but I had faith in it early on and Lea benefited from being able to make a real connection with the crowds. Sebi is a very different beast entirely. Whilst Hvala ne had a defiance and a frenetic energy, Sebi is contemplative and melancholy. Both have great lyrics, too. I am going with Slovenia at the minute as it’s stood the test of time, but really the better of the two songs is really a question of mood.

And the automatic qualifiers of this semi-final:

◯ France – 2018 – It’s a battle between two songs written by the same writers, and since I loved their 2018 work, their follow-up should have a chance of making this a closely-run thing. Shóúld. Instead, they went from writing an understated song about humanity to writing an overbearingly pompous and self-important song about ego. This is the worst French song to me since 1988.

◯ Israel – 2018 – I wonder if Israel’s broadcasters remember how their predecessor, the IBU, won on home soil in 1979. I have the feeling they might well do, and as a result ensured it wouldn’t happen again with this song. There are elements of the song I really like, but it’s let down for me by a snivelly, exaggerated voice and a rather self-indulgent chorus. I was no great fan of “Toy”, but can listen to it with more pleasure than this.

◯ Spain – 2018 – I remember when “Tu canción" came out and I was completely in love with it. The unfortunate thing about songs sung by starry-eyed young loves is that their relationships often end up star-crossed. Now, Almaia is no more, and the song has a hugely bitter aftertaste. Nonetheless, I prefer it to La venda, which is a rather empty song lyrically but which I still found the best of a bad lot in the Spanish national final.

Coming up in the next instalment, my thoughts on SF2’s songs and how they shape up to those from last year!

[ellymunro-blog]

Hello everybody! The name’s Cat (or Speedy... I answer to both). I’m 25, cisfemale, and from the EST timezone. I’ve recently just started a new job; and I’m also still recovering from a surgery I had last month. So I will apologize in advance if my activity isn’t the greatest. I promise it’ll pick up once my life becomes less hectic...

Anyway, I bring to you my little weirdo Ellis “Elly” Munro. She’s a modified version of a character I’ve played in a few groups before; so I’m interested in seeing how Crownsville Elly turns out. This RP honestly looks so great; and I can’t wait to start plotting with y’all! 

[ willa holland, twenty-three, cisfemale, she/her ]  — hey, I just saw [ ellis “elly” munro ] walking down the streets of crownsville. they’ve lived in town for [ two years ], and you can catch them around town working as a [sales associate at shazam comics ]. I hear they’re known to be [ loyal & determined ] and [ stubborn & cynical ]. if asked, they would say their aesthetic would be [ sushi rolls, piles of comic books, extra large cups of coffee, movie theatres, bruised knuckles, hospital bracelets ].

Backstory (trigger warning: mentions of chronic illness)

Ellis Amalia-Rose Munro, more commonly known as Elly, was born and raised in Los Angeles (Hollywood), California to an up-and-coming thriller screenwriter/director and his trophy wife. She was their second child, having a brother roughly thirteen years older.

Growing up, her family was well-off due to her father’s success with many of his films. He was, by no means, a household name as far as filmmakers went; but for fans of thrillers, most knew at least a good handful of his work (think of him like Shyamalan only not quite as popular).

She actually had a tendency to have a small role in every single one of her father’s films. This continued up until she moved away for college.

At the age of 3, she was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis. She had faced multiple lung infections as well as poor weight gain for her first few years of life, thus leading to the diagnosis.

Her CF has always been well managed. It’s not something she ever let get in her way. She was always the very rambunctious and active child, just sometimes needing to take more breaks than others.

She was also a child model from the ages of 7-11. An agent had seen her in one of her father’s films and reached out. She was compliant for a few years; but modeling just was never really her thing.

Her mother is from Chelsea, London; and she grew up visiting her grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins there every summer. London is one of her favorite places to go; and she’s quite proud of her British heritage.

At a young age, she was introduced to the world of comics and superheroes; and she was hooked from the start. She used to pretend she was a superhero, running around her house dressed like her favorites and wishing she had superpowers.

Due to her love of comics and superheroes, her parents thought it would be a good idea to get her involved in activities that would allow her to “train to be a superhero”. They signed her up for martial arts (she’s now a 4x blackbelt) and gymnastics. This way, she could use her imagination and stay in shape.

As the years went on, fencing and archery were added to Elly’s list of activities. And as soon as she learned what it was, she took up parkour as well. And out of everything she’s done, parkour has forever been her favorite.

She was actually once scouted for the Olympic archery team; and her coach kept encouraging her to train for a goal of the Olympics. But she never had any interest. To her, archery was just a hobby and nothing more.

After high school, she decided to go across the country for college; and wanting to stay in an area with warmer weather (she hates the cold/snow), she decided on attending the University of Miami as a psychology major.

While attending the University of Miami, she initially had no desire to end up on Greek Row. But she ultimately ended up pledging for and joining a sorority (Chi Omega) during her time at the college. 

Loving the east coast, she figured she’d want to stay in Miami or go elsewhere in Florida upon graduation (or not as she only finished three years of school); but she somehow ended up settling in the small town of Crownsville, Georgia. She’d gone home over the holidays with a friend who lived there; and she just felt drawn to the town.

That was a little over two years ago. Elly’s been in Crownsville pretty much ever since. She’s started making a life for herself here. She’s gotten a job working as a sales associate at Shazam Comics; and she’s also gotten herself a little apartment downtown. And while she often does miss California and her family, she’s started to become really happy in small town Georgia.

When it comes to her CF, she’s always been one to not feel the need to hide it. She’s been like this since she was little; and even now, she doesn’t feel the need to hide. It’s not something she tells everything; but she’s okay with people knowing she’s sick.

Another important thing about Elly is the fact she’s training to hopefully make it on to American Ninja Warrior. She fell in love with the show when she first saw it several years back; and given her hobbies, she’s always felt like she was a good candidate. She has yet to try out; but her plan is to try out this upcoming season.

Recently, however, her health has started to decline. Her lung function is now in the yellow; and it’s really scared her. She’s started to wonder if she should give up on her American Ninja Warrior dream in favor of her health. Her fall back plan is to open her own archery school or maybe get back into acting.

Likes: comic books, superheroes, coffee, sushi, movies, parkour, archery, katanas, tattoos, cosplaying, video games, flannel, hoodies, beanies, combat boots, avocados, star wars, workouts, roses, kingdom hearts, stitch, stuffed animals, british sweets, funkos, motorcycles, skateboarding, jolly ranchers, american ninja warrior, bdsm

Dislikes: hospitals, swimming, cold weather, snow/ice, kale, cats, needles, alcohol, energy drinks, high heels

Misc. Facts

Her parents almost named her Ellis Isla; but they opted not to due to the fact it sounded too close to Ellis Island.

She has 4 blackbelts (karate, taekwondo, jiujitsu, krav maga); so don’t piss her off.

She can swim; but she’s honestly not a fan of water. Despite growing up in California, she doesn’t like the ocean.

She doesn’t like the taste of alcohol; so she doesn’t drink. If you ever see her drinking, she’s probably in a really bad place.

She can do a spot-on impression of Aqua from Kingdom Hearts and a pretty decent impression of Stitch. 

She loves stuffed animals. Her bed is covered in them. Her favorites are Batbear, Stitch, Toad, and a sushi roll with a face. Batbear is like her security blanket.

She does have her driver’s license; but she doesn’t have a car in Crownsville. She has her red Ducati; but Uber is still her preferred mode of transportation. 

She was born a month and a half prematurely. Her due date was February 14th. 

Because of her CF, she has a feeding tube (g-tube) that’s normally hidden under her clothing. She also does several daily treatments (nebulizers, vibrating vest) to combat her symptoms as well as takes pancreatic enzymes before each meal.

She wears a medical ID bracelet that states she has CF and that she’s allergic to latex, penicillin, and prednisone. It’s not noticeable as an ID bracelet unless one really looks at it.

She has saved two people from getting hit by cars by pushing them out of the way and taking their place. The first time, she was 15. The second time, she was 23.

[trigger warning] She is actually unable to have children of her own; but she doesn’t actually know this yet. could be potential plot-line if anyone is ever interested

Wanted Connections

Older Brother  —  This is pretty self explanatory. Elly has an older brother; and this connection is for him. I picture him being roughly ten years older than she is (give or take a few years) and being in Crownsville for reasons UTP. His faceclaim and name are also UTP (though I gotta admit my bias towards Stephen Amell or Colin Donnell FCs). OPEN (0/1)

Father  — Elly’s father is a thriller screenwriter and director by the name of Chandler Munro. I think it might be cool if he showed up in Crownsville for whatever reason. He could be filming a movie in the small town or just coming to catch up with his children. I would like his FC to be John Barrowman; though I am open to discuss others. OPEN (0/1)

Extended Family  — Maybe for some reason, one of Elly’s extended family members (most likely a cousin from England) comes to visit her in Crownsville and ends up staying for awhile. OPEN (0/?)

College Friend  — This connection is for the friend with whom Elly went home for the holidays with one year while attending the University of Miami. This friend lived in Crownsville and is part of the reason Elly lives there now. Everything about this friend is UTP: name, age, gender, faceclaim, etc. I’m not picky; though I would love for them to have stayed friends. TAKEN (1/1)

Childhood Friends  — This is for any friends of Elly’s from back when she lived in Los Angeles. She could’ve known them back in elementary, middle, or high school. They could’ve lost touch and then met up again in Crownsville or stayed friends since they first met. OPEN (0/?)

Roommate — Upon first coming to Crownsville, Elly got herself a decent sized apartment downtown. I would love for her to have a roommate she shares this apartment (and its rent) with. TAKEN (1/1)

Ex-Roommate  — This was a previous roommate of Elly’s. This individual stopped being her roommate for reasons open to discussion. OPEN (0/2)

Ride or Die  — Give me a ride or die bestie for Elly please. I have no preference for gender, age, how they met... Everything would be discussed upon inquiry. I just want her to have that one person she’d do anything for. OPEN (1/2)

Nurse Friend(s)  — Elly is kind of a wild one. With her hobbies and desire to be on American Ninja Warrior, she has quite the tendency to get injured. She could definitely use some friends with medical training to help her out from time to time. OPEN (1/?)

Doctors  — Since Elly has CF, she does spend a good amount of time at doctors offices. This connection would be for any of the doctors who treat her; though I mostly would love to see her pulmonologist. OPEN (0/?)·         

Red Band Society  — This is for anyone else dealing with any type of medical condition. Elly and these individuals have formed a sort of support system for one another. OPEN (1/?)

Ex-Boyfriend(s)  — Again, this is super self explanatory. Elly and this guy (or guys if I decide to make her have more than one ex) used to date. And now they’re not. Why they broke up and all the details of their relationship would be discussed upon inquiry. They could either be total enemies now or still be cordial. OPEN (0/3)

Friends With Benefits — I feel like most of my wanted connections are self explanatory. This is your standard friends with benefits connection and plotline. It could have the potential to turn into something or just stay FWB. OPEN (1/2)

Straight Until Prove Bi  — As of now, Elly identifies as straight; but I am not against her having an experience with another girl. OPEN (0/1)

Future Love Interest  — Self explanatory. At some point in the future, Elly is gonna end up in another relationship. This is mostly open to males; but I would not object to a female if the chemistry was there. OPEN (0/1)

Workout/Sparring Buddies — Elly spends a lot of her free time working out; and it’d be great for her to have someone she can work out with. Whether it be at the gym, while kickboxing, or even while doing parkour, a friend can make a workout so much less boring and routine. OPEN (0/?)

Stylist  — Elly has been very much a tomboy since she was small. This connection would be for the individual in Crownsville who attempts to give her a makeover and make her more “girly”. TAKEN (1/1)

Tattoo Artist  — Elly loves tattoos and is working on obtaining quite the collection. This individual is the one who has done most of hers and is the one she’d go back to when she’s ready to get her next tattoo. OPEN (0/2)

Fans of Chandler Munro — Like stated in her little backstory, Elly’s father (Chandler Munro) is a thriller movie director and screenwriter. I’d like if there was someone who was a big fan of her father’s films and tried to use Elly to get autographs, spoilers of upcoming movies, a small role in an upcoming movie, etc. OPEN (0/?)

General Friends, Frienemies, Co-Workers, Neighbors, etc. 

More to come...

click here for Elly’s stats page

[scholasticbabe]

Hello everyone!

It's been a hot minute- I know! But so much things have happened since my last and most enthusiastic post. There have been many emotions felt over the last few months and the final days weren't much different (maybe more emotional if that’s possible) there was disappointment, happiness, mourning and relief. This process has not been good for my anxiety! There was so much I learned from this process about myself and my path and can’t wait to hopefully get to help you guys on your application journeys next year, but enough rambling, here's what happened:

A BIT OF BACKGROUND FIRST:

I applied to 12 uni's and as international student who's BROKE my options were pretty limited, so hey I didn’t have the smorgasbord of options, but I created a list I ended up loving. Please note though if you are an international student, YOU DO HAVE THE CHANCE TO STUDY ABROAD and your chances increase and decrease based on circumstances ( money, grades etc). I’m just saying this was my particular experience as an international student. The schools I chose were mostly for their location (east coast), good social science programs (future anthropology major) and at the end of it all, my results were:

ACCEPTANCES: ST.MICHAEL'S COLLEGE, GONZAGA UNIVERSITY, AGNES SCOTT COLLEGE, CLARK UNIVERSITY, ITHACA COLLEGE

WAITLIST: AMERICAN UNIVERSITY

REJECTED: UPENN, COLUMBIA, DARTMOUTH, BARNARD, RICE UNIVERSITY AND SMITH COLLEGE

Now thoughts:

Rejection was hard: I was stressed the fuck out up until ivy day. As someone who has been looking forward to going to college since the 7th grade, the pinnacle of college apps for me was getting into an ivy, I had been anticipating the moment and I wanted it so bad, I didn't know why, but I did. I wanted to be that person who DID that. I had had my head down in the books all of high school and I felt like it was owed to me, since you guys saw my results you know that that didn’t happen and it WAS FUCKING DEVASTATING; It revealed aspects of myself that I was hiding from this whole time, the idea that if you didn’t go to an ivy you aren’t smart and that getting into college didn't mean anything if it wasn't an ‘ivy’. I admit it, I cried; Going to Upenn had been my dream the entire app process and I never shared it with anyone, so when I got my Penn rejection (even though I was bracing myself for it) in that moment I felt this entire immortalized vision I had of myself as being a pseudo elle woods come crumbling down. I didn’t know that it would hurt that much because this whole time I was half assingly preaching to people about loving every school I applied to equally, but when it came down to it, I did think the Ivys were better  and IT WAS my goal. I can admit that now. This process showed me all the ugliest parts of myself, the part that somehow thought that being antisocial nerd gave me a  guaranteed path to certain things. It was ugly and it was painful but like literally every person who has gone through with this process, I had to readjust and switch gears REAL QUICK. 1) I had still achieved my goal of getting into a good school in the states 2) I also achieved my goal of not going broke while achieving goal number 1.

Choosing a school has been a pickle: I know you guys have seen my acceptances and probably decided where you think I should go but ultimately for me the decision is going to come down to which school I can get the most bang for my buck ( meaning the best quality education for a good price) . A lot of school that accepted me gave me a decent amount of money if I do say so myself but of course some schools were wayyyy more generous than other. Ultimately I feel like I know where I want to go,  this school ultimately gave me everything I wanted but was  too shallow to look for in an non ivy school, plus it gave me the most amount of money, with this school my student debt would be virtually non existent which is a huge plus. I do feel kind of cheated for the whole process because it really wasn’t a hard decision for me (I know it's ironic) but I had almost looked forward to comparing the schools and making a tough decision but going up to ivy day I had already know which school I would have gone to if I hadn’t gotten in to the ivies and that’s still the school I want to go to. It was hard to accept the way this process worked out for me ( being that literally nothing went as planned) but at the end of the day I’m a real bitch for even complaining when I have such an amazing opportunity because as I said VIRTUALLY NO STUDENT DEBT!!!! Which is ultimately my biggest accomplishment of this process.

Final thoughts: The college application process is harder than I thought and it has taught me so many things. It has put me in a position of having to rework my plan and find a way to feel proud of myself even if my everything didn’t work out the way I wanted it to. I learned that rejection is hard and being rejected from a path you had lined for yourself is even harder, but I’m a big believer in everything works out the way it was always going to, meaning this was always the path for me. I want you guys to know that I got rejected from my tops schools and I still find a way to be genuinely happy about my future and the school I might be going to, because at the end of the day I’m my biggest tool and as long as I have me, I can succeed anywhere (cheesy, but true). If you got into your dream school congrats! And if you didn’t, know that your path can be just as beautiful and amazing!

*flops down into chair* It's been a whirlwind guys, thank you for following me along this journey! More content to come, but for now…..

Xoxo

-Georgia

PS. I'll be filming a "where I'm going to college video" as soon as Its official!

[wellesleyunderground]

WU Reviews: The Problem With Apu by Shelly Anand '08 (@shellypolitik) & Shloka Ananthanarayanan '08 (@shlokes)

(Source)

Hari Kondabolu is a New York-based stand-up comic. He is also of Indian origin and therefore has a long-standing gripe with the character of Apu in The Simpsons. His hour-long documentary, The Problem With Apu, features conversations with South Asian actors, Simpsons writers, and people on the street, some of whom were genuinely flabbergasted that their favorite character on The Simpsons is voiced by a white guy (Hank Azaria, who refused to be a part of this documentary).

‘08 alums Shelly and Shloka are both Indian women living in America but with very different backgrounds. Shelly was born and raised in the American South (what up ATL alums) while Shloka grew up in Bahrain surrounded by Indian immigrants and only moved to New York when she was a teenager, where she went to an international high school. Below are their takes on The Problem with Apu, which are only two of the myriad reactions people across the South Asian diaspora may end up having to this documentary.

Shloka:

I already knew what I was getting into when I started watching this documentary. I’ve seen some of Hari Kondabolu’s stand-up so I was fully aware of the premise. What startled me was his personal story of why he hated Apu so much. Turns out, as a kid growing up in America, apparently people would just yell out “Hey Apu!” or “Thank you come again!” if they saw a brown person? I never experienced that kind of overt racism growing up (also The Simpsons wasn’t particularly big in Bahrain), so while I’ve personally never really cared about that character, this documentary made me much more angry on behalf of all the brown folk who did face discrimination because of Apu.

Shelly:

I am a big fan of Hari and was excited for him to tackle this topic in a documentary; I had seen him first address the problem with Apu on W. Kamau Bell’s show Totally Biased a couple of years ago. I definitely related to what Hari and the other featured South Asian actors and comedians had to say about growing up with the Apu stereotype. I do recall being asked if my parents owned a gas station or a 711. When my father became CEO of a company in his field (electrical engineering), a manager came up to him and said something along the lines of he thought Indian people only worked and/or owned Dunkin Donuts, to which my father responded “I’d be happy to help you find a job there.” (Go Papa!). #radbrowndad

We dealt with a lot of racism living in the South. People were always making fun of my mom’s accent--from her patients (she’s a psychiatrist) to clerks in stores--and she still deals with this racism to this day. My dad felt the pressures of assimilation and actively got rid of his accent by impersonating radio djs. People at times think he is second generation like me because he no longer has an accent and now has lived here for most of his life. The only time it comes out is when he is code switching, sitting with family and friends, in a safe space where he can be his true self. I wish I could say that “The Problem of Apu” was a thing of the past but it has gotten worse in the post-9/11 current Trump world. Even today, I have had people do the Indian head bob or do a fake Indian accent thinking it is funny. Of course, the accent and head bobs are just one of many issues South Asian kids face in the U.S. Having non-Christian religions (Hinduism, Jainism, Sikhism, Islam, to name a few) made us subject to ridicule and still does to this day. And Indian food and yoga weren’t so cool when we were growing up. Our whole identity and culture was under attack. It still is today, with Islamophobia, continual ignorance over non-Western religions (Sikhs and Hindus being subject to Islamophobia because we’re brown and have turbans), and cultural appropriation of food and religion (ahem, YOGA and that chicken tikka masala bullshit, oh and don’t get me started on “chai tea”). I am excited to see not only more representation of desis on American film and television, but am grateful for folx like Hari that use their platform to address the issues us desi kids faced growing up.

Shloka:

The Problem with Apu addresses a number of problems. First, there’s the idea of how this character even came to be. There are conflicting stories about whether the writer thought that an Indian store owner was a complete stereotype, but had to concede when Hank Azaria came out with the voice and a room full of white guys laughed. Azaria himself didn’t take part in this documentary and continues to do the voice all over the place, despite a half-hearted attempt at acknowledging its racist undertones in an old HuffPo article. Then there’s the problem of representation. People argue that The Simpsons has broad stereotypes of Italians or Scottish people, so why be so fixated on Apu? 

Kondabolu’s rebuttal (of course) is that there are nuanced portrayals of Italians and Scots all over TV and movies. Whereas for the longest time, the only representation of an Indian in American media was this servile store clerk who bought into every stereotype under the sun. Kondabolu proposes a number of ways The Simpsons could redeem themselves - have a brown actor do the voice, add some new South Asian characters who demonstrate other aspects of the diaspora, or just kill off Apu and be done with the whole mess once and for all. Sadly, I doubt any of these will come to pass. When he interviews his own parents, they have a weary sense of resignation - they came to this country and did what they had to do. They think Apu is a terrible portrayal, but to them, they have fought many other battles and this question of media representation pales in comparison to their real journey to buy in to the American dream.

Shelly:

It definitely seemed like the goal of the film was for him to go head to head with Hank Azaria. I don’t know if the problem of Apu can really be resolved with respect to the show. It’s been, what, almost 30 years since the show was started? Does anyone ever watch the Simpsons anymore? The Problem with Apu isn’t the Simpsons itself, but that it started this trend where it was acceptable to mock and ridicule South Asian people for the way they talk and their professions. The film discusses how the Apu caricature made it really really difficult to be an South Asian actor in this country; most of the actors and comedians Hari interviews talk about how they  have been expected to audition for roles (btw Aziz Ansari addresses this issue really well in Season 1 of Master of None). I learned about the term “patanking” for the first time, which is the stereotypical accent, head-bob, caricature South-Asian actors are often asked to portray when offered miniscule roles (like taxi driver, 711 owner etc.)

However, I wish there was more discussion of how the caricature of Apu effects South Asian immigrants like our parents. There are many South Asian immigrants who own and/or work in gas stations and hotels. How does the Problem of Apu impact them? I know here in Georgia, there are a number of South Asians who own gas stations in rural areas and many of their lives have been threatened because of xenophobia. While the actors complain about playing gas station owners and taxi drivers, they don’t complain about the stereotype of the model minority myth, playing doctors, lawyers, tech startup bros, etc. There is an element of classism to all of this. We are fine with the model minority myth (that we are successful immigrants) but not with the prospect of someone assuming that we are working class.

I did appreciate how the documentary placed Apu in the historical context of ridiculing and mocking people of color in the United States specifically with respect to Blackface. Whoopi Goldberg is interviewed and talks blackface in Hollywood at the turn of 20th century. At one point Hari asked Whoopi if Apu could be considered blackface and she confirms that it is. I remember a couple of years ago, Popchips did a commercial with Ashton Kutcher, who literally painted his face brown and did an indian accent. I know when I was growing up, something like that would have been seen as acceptable, but celebrities like Himanshu Suri (of Das Racist and Swet Shop Boys fame) called it out and I believe Popchips ended up pulling the ad. That was really affirming for me.

Shloka:

This documentary is only an hour-long and I can see why. There isn’t really much meat to this story and after a while it does get a bit repetitive and seems to be stating the obvious. But again, I’m a liberal brown person. The people who really ought to be watching this are the ones who never will. I think it would be eye-opening for a lot of people who are oblivious to the challenges minorities face in day-to-day life. While I found myself growing bored of the Apu premise, I loved how many South Asian people from all walks of life were interviewed in this movie, from the former Surgeon General, Dr. Vivek Murthy, to comedienne, Aparna Nancherla. And this speaks to my ongoing thirst to see more brown people on TV. I don’t watch The Simpsons and I think Apu is a ridiculous character. But as more South Asians emerge on screen in shows like The Mindy Project or Master of None, they are filling a void in the media landscape that I never acknowledged before. 

While I’ve never been openly discriminated against, I’ve had moments when people made assumptions about me because I was brown or were shocked that my “English is so good.” Sometimes their assumptions are right, but sometimes they’re wrong, and it is frustrating as a minority to not be given the privilege to be my own person instead of immediately being put in a box. When I talk to a white person, I treat them like an individual being and don’t categorize them right off the bat, because I have seen thousands of different representations of white people in the movies and TV. But when a white person is talking to me, are they immediately thinking I might be like Apu and I have to convince them otherwise? What a terrifying prospect.

Shelly:

It was definitely repetitive and it also focused on just one small facet of the myriad of issues South Asians and South Asian Americans face with respect to discrimination in this country. Not only are our [assumed] accents ridiculed, but our lives are threatened because of religion [either real or perceived] and because we are from non-European immigrant community. I can’t tell you the number of times my mother has heard “go back to your country.” Hell, I was called a “foreign dyke bitch” in North Carolina in a grocery store parking lot (what a trifecta!). The mockery of the accent is indicative of a larger theme that many of us in the immigrant community face: you don’t belong here. I wish that was addressed a bit more. We also have our own dirty laundry in the community-- shadeism and anti-black racism. Not that we need to do a documentary airing our dirty laundry but identity is a complicated beast (not to mention others like caste, Islamophobia from non-Muslim South Asians etc.).

Overall, I am happy the film exists and happy that the caricature of desi folx has been placed in the context of other discriminatory caricatures like black face -- I think that link is critical to helping the desi community build foundations of solidarity with the black community and other communities of color in the U.S. I see Hari’s film as the tip of the iceberg and I’m excited to see more.

[qqueenofhades]

The Rose and Thorn: Epilogue

summary:  Sequel to The Dark Horizon. The New World, 1740: Killian and Emma Jones have lived in peace with their family for many years, their pirate past long behind them. But with English wars, Spanish plots, rumors of a second Jacobite rising, and the secret of the lost treasure of Skeleton Island, they and their son and daughter are in for a dangerous new adventure. OUAT/Black Sails. rating: M status: COMPLETE available: FF.net and AO3 previous: chapter XXXII

New York City

April 1755

The carriage rolled to a muddy-wheeled halt in front of the handsome stone rowhouse, the driver jumped down from the running board to hold the door open, and Geneva accepted his hand out into the street, while Jim fished out a few pence to cover the tariff and tossed him the extra. Diana wriggled past both of them and ran up the steps, whereupon she performed the impatient dance common to all eleven-year-olds whose parents were moving far too slowly for their taste. In her defense, it had been a fortnight on the journey up from Tortola, and there was not much room to run around on board. The Athena was smaller than the Rose, a two-masted brigantine not dissimilar to the Blackbird that Mother had sailed once upon a time, and while she had served well since the old girl was given a dignified retirement several years ago, there were times when even Geneva found herself with a touch of cabin fever. It would be nice to have (for once) some space. Not to mention, actual privacy.

As Jim bent to heft their bags, the driver climbed back into his seat and clicked to the horses, and the hire carriage lumbered away. Geneva started up the steps to join her daughter, who was standing on her tiptoes in an attempt to reach the knocker. “Diana, you could help your father with the luggage, you know.”

Diana gave her a look as if to say that fathers by their very nature existed to carry luggage, which made Geneva bite her cheek. She couldn’t deny that she too was very much looking forward to this, and as Jim made a manful effort with the various satchels, portmanteaus, and other whatsits, Geneva knocked. She was at least impressed with the house, if not necessarily the location. Manhattan was a small and boggy island that had been bought on the cheap by some Dutch fur traders in 1626 and christened New Amsterdam, captured by the English in 1664 and renamed in honor of James, the Duke of York, and while it was making some effort at turning into a real city, it was still nothing to compare with Boston or Philadelphia. But now that it had its own university – King’s College, founded last year by royal charter of George II – perhaps it would flourish in turn. That, after all, was what they were here to celebrate.

After a moment, the door opened, and Diana let out a joyful squeal. “Uncle Sam!”

“Hey, you’re here!” Sam Jones managed to hug his niece with one arm, his sister with the other, and exchange a cordial nod with his brother-in-law. “Voyage not bad, then?”

“Nothing out of the usual,” Geneva said. “A bit fresh with the spring winds, but we made good time. I wasn’t going to miss this, anyway.”

Sam flashed a crooked grin, which gave her a brief and strange sense of no time passing at all. It was almost five years since she had seen her brother, and he was now in his middle thirties (Geneva herself was a year away from the rather daunting age of forty) but he looked exactly the same as ever, tall and thin and genial, with the faint hint of laugh lines around his eyes. He considerately moved to unladen Jim from some of his burden, pretended to break his back for Diana’s benefit, and led them into the house, which still smelled of new carpentry and unfinished plasterwork, trunks not yet entirely unpacked and afternoon sunlight slanting on the wall. “Oy, Jack. They made it. Well, some of them, anyway.”

They passed through the sitting room, where Sam and Jim left the bags, and then stepped into the dining room at the back of the house, where Jack was sitting at the table and perusing a stack of notes with intent, frowning attention. At the sound of their entrance, he looked up, then actually smiled. “Good to see you, Hawkinses.”

“And you.” Geneva stepped over to kiss her brother-in-law’s cheek. He had a few threads of silver in his black ponytail, and he was wearing reading glasses, which he must have had made in Philadelphia before they left; Ben Franklin, whom Henry was still working with, had recently invented a sort of spectacle known as bifocals. They conferred an attractively educated and mature air on him, which suited quite well. After all, Jack had just been invited to take up a chair of medicine at the newly founded King’s College, after working for several years at the Academy of Philadelphia (coincidentally also founded by Franklin). The hope was that this would eventually lead to the establishment of a proper medical school, the first in the Colonies, and either way, the honor was considerable. Looking at him now, Geneva thought, you would never guess either how he had started out, or that it was the same man. Dr. Jack Bellamy, indeed.

“Sit down,” Jack said, going to poke the embers in the coal stove and put the kettle back on. “There’s several rooms upstairs, you can choose which one you want. Though the one at the end leaks, they haven’t finished the roof. Still, I think we’ve done well.”

“You have,” Geneva said. “Who knows, one day maybe property in Manhattan will actually turn out to be valuable.”

“I’m just hoping it doesn’t rain as much as Scotland,” Sam remarked. “Anything else, I’m flexible.”

Jack arched an eyebrow at his dearest spouse, but forbore to actually comment. A year after the events of Skeleton Island, he had moved to Edinburgh to begin his education at the university’s medical school, paid for by part of the Jones family’s share of the treasure. Sam, accustomed to the sun, sea, and heat of Georgia, had loathed Scotland with every fiber of his being, especially crowded, sooty, filthy, rainy Edinburgh, but considered it an acceptable trade-off in order to be with Jack. However, just as Jack was finishing his studies, the long-rumored second Jacobite rising had broken out, involving a brief occupation of Edinburgh by Prince Charles’ army, and the battle of Culloden in April 1746 had been an absolute disaster for the Scots, with ramifications long beyond the fight itself. Jack had embarked on a daring and dangerous campaign through the ravaged Highlands, offering his medical services free of charge to anyone hurt by the English, which was quite a few. He and Sam could have both been hanged for aiding and abetting traitors if they were caught, and they had several more hair-raising adventure stories from this period. Indeed they had finally left in 1749 after one too many close shaves with the law, moved to Philadelphia, and Jack had begun to teach at Ben Franklin’s fledgling university. Henry and Violet were still there, as were Liam and Regina, so they had plenty of family nearby. And New York, of course, was not far away.

Jack poured them tea, found a few biscuits for Diana, and they sat down for a refreshing post-travel constitutional. “Who else is coming?” Geneva asked. “Us, Mother and Daddy, and – Henry and Violet threw you a farewell party before you left, didn’t they?”

“Aye,” Jack said. “Henry has a printing project he needs to finish for Franklin, and Richard’s getting married soon anyway, they have to stay and prepare for that. Besides, he’s up to New York fairly often, we’ll see each other. Liam and Regina are getting too old to travel, so they wished us well in Philadelphia too, but I heard that Matthew, Cordelia, and Martha might turn up.” He shrugged, with a slight wry smile. “Still surprises me.”

“Martha?” Diana perked up, as she was best friends with her cousin, close to her in age and the family member she had seen the most of. Geneva and Jim sailed the Athena across the Caribbean and the colonies on various ventures and opportunities, and on the longer of those voyages, they left Diana in the care of Matthew’s wife, Cordelia. Matthew himself was still in the Royal Navy, having accepted a new commission as captain of HMS Lancaster. However, he had acquired a reputation of one of the most coolly fair-minded and independently inclined captains in the Admiralty, openly ignored orders that he felt were unjustified or unwise, and actually did what the Navy was supposed to do and so often fell short upon: serving and protecting those who needed it. He had also dedicated himself personally to the dismantling of all of Robert Gold’s secret societies and patronage networks and dirty politics, and the same with Fiona Murray’s. This had likewise earned him some new enemies, but he felt it all to the good. So did his adopted parents, for that matter.

“Aye, they might make it,” Jack said, grinning at his niece. “Charlotte and Alix will be here too, and Cecilia and her new husband. I have to meet the man, make sure he’s good enough for her. He’s named Stevenson, that’s all I know. Another Scotsman from Edinburgh, actually. A trader in a West Indies firm.”

“It’ll be a proper party for you, then,” Geneva said. “The ceremony at the college is what – Friday? Mother and Daddy should be here tomorrow, if the wind cooperates from Savannah. It’s a bit of a long journey at their age, but they’re a pair of old sailors, so they insisted.”

“I’m sure Dad would point out that he’s only sixty-eight,” Sam said. “Like Grandpa used to.”

A solemn silence fell over the table. James Flint had died last year at the age of eighty-one, after a brief illness, which Geneva had not been able to get back to Georgia in time for. Perhaps it was for the best, as her grandfather told her, the last time they saw each other, that he did not want that to be her last memory of him. That when he died, he would be the sky and the wind and the sea, and he would see her there anyway. Geneva was inclined to think that this was true, as she had had more than one dream about him, and sometimes woke in the dimness of the Athena’s cabin to think that he was still there, sitting at the desk and listening to the lap of morning waves against the hull, watching her with that amused green gaze before he faded back into the mist. She knew with that same utter and absolute conviction that he was all right, that he was free and happy and safe, and that was good.

Besides, it had been cruelty to make James McGraw, the man who had become Flint for the depths of his true loves, live the last four years of his life without them. Thomas had died in 1747, at seventy-five, and Miranda in 1750, at the same. It was made easier, if such a thing was possible, by the knowledge that Sam Bellamy was waiting on the other side to take care of them, to see them again, but it had still broken James to let them go one more time, to be – as ever – the last one left behind. The last time Geneva had seen him was at her grandmother’s funeral. Her downright immortal grandfather looked, at last, very old, and very tired, and very heartsick. She had worried that he would be unbearably lonely, and James told her that Silver and Madi had agreed to come up from Nassau to keep him company for a while. As far as Geneva was aware, they had then stayed. She didn’t know for certain if John Silver, who had lived so long with the guilt of destroying Captain Flint, had been with James McGraw when he finally went to his real rest, but she certainly hoped so.

“I wish Granny could have seen this,” Sam said, after a long pause. “She’d have been so proud of you, Jack.”

“She was already.” Jack smiled faintly. Miranda had gotten to see him become a physician, to take up his appointment at the Academy of Philadelphia, and to be happy for many years with Sam, and they had kept up a fairly regular correspondence while Jack and Sam were living in Edinburgh. “And I think she knows, besides.”

They all nodded, still subdued, but the conversation revived after that. Sam said apologetically that they had not yet managed to hire a cook, and both of them were horrible at it, so supper was somewhat scant, but Geneva and Jim gallantly overlooked it. They chatted well into the night, after Diana had been sent up to bed, exchanging various anecdotes from their explorations and travels, and only decided that it was quite late enough when the hallway clock struck one. Lying next to her sleeping husband, Geneva stretched out luxuriantly on a mattress where her arms and legs did not immediately hit the wall (as she got older, she had to admit that there was something to be said for creature comfort) and looked up at the unfinished crown molding over the windows. Jack and Sam were clearly planning to live here a long time, to make a permanent home, and there were certainly moments when Geneva wanted to retire from the seafaring life and stay on dry land for the rest of her days. She might like for Diana to become captain of the Athena after her, but Diana wanted to do other things, had other interests and passions, and Geneva was perfectly happy to see her follow those. In the meantime, she and Jim would keep sailing together until they didn’t want to anymore. But not yet. Not yet.

Geneva slept well, and woke the next morning at least somewhat refreshed. She dressed and went downstairs, and after breakfast, Sam volunteered to take them out to see the city, at which Jack looked up anxiously and told them to be careful. To absolutely nobody’s surprise, there was yet another war going on, between the British on one side and the French and Indians on the other, and there had been several meetings in Albany to discuss the threat, as well as fighting near Fort Niagara and Fort Oswego in the northern part of the colony, close to the border with French Canada. Various lurid stories of Indian massacres and French advances were thus circulating, and while Jack likely did not believe they were actually in danger of strolling into the middle of a battle, he always preferred to err on the side of caution where Sam’s safety was involved. It was, Geneva thought, really rather sweet.

In any event, she, Jim, and Diana spent a pleasant morning out with Sam, were not scalped or ambushed, and dropped by King’s College to see Jack’s new workplace, at which point Diana announced that she wanted to go here when she was older. The rather fussy proctor showing them around blinked owlishly from behind his pince-nez. “That is an extraordinary notion, Miss Hawkins, but I cannot see that it would be possible. The College is for the education of young men, you see. I suggest you focus on more ladylike subjects.”

Diana, who had likewise been raised with the assurance that she could and should try anything she set her mind to, stared back at him fiercely. “You’ll be dead when I’m older.”

Jim was briefly overcome with a coughing fit, while Geneva hoped that they were not spoiling things for Jack before he ever took up his post. She personally intended to see to it that her daughter got to do whatever she wanted, and if that involved stepping on a few crusty male toes, so much the better. On that note, they concluded the tour and headed to the docks, since Mother and Daddy were supposed to be arriving today, and they might as well wait to meet them. After this, Killian and Emma were headed down to Philadelphia to see Liam, Regina, Henry, and Violet, and attend their grandson Richard’s wedding, so it was a family affair all around.

Sure enough, around midafternoon, a handsome black-hulled schooner entered the harbor, took down her canvas, and glided to a halt in the quays. Passengers soon began to disembark, making their way through the busy docklands, and Geneva squinted, then waved energetically, raising her voice. “Hey! Here!”

Killian and Emma Jones looked around, spotted them, and hurried over as fast as they could, which was not quite as fast as before. Killian was using a cane, which briefly choked Geneva’s throat, one of those terribly poignant reminders that your parents were mortal and fallible and growing older, that all of them had. There likewise was not much dark left in Killian’s silver hair, and Emma’s, pulled back in an elegant knot, was entirely white. But both of them looked delighted to see their children, son-in-law, and granddaughter, and kisses, hugs, and handshakes (the latter between Killian and Jim) were exchanged. Geneva nodded at her father’s cane. “Finally slowed down, have you?

“Had a bad fall last year, unfortunately, and it helps.” Killian sighed. “This getting old business is a bloody pain in the backside, love. You’ll see what I mean.”

“I’ve noticed.” Geneva bit her lip, then smiled again, kissing her mother’s cheek. “How’s Savannah?”

“It’s…” Emma weighed her words. As they had feared would someday happen, slavery had been legalized in Georgia in 1751, and it now ran to the same voracious, devouring rhythm as the other southern colonies, in its plantations and flesh markets and unbearable cruelties. “It’s… different.”

“We’ve lived there too long to really want to move,” Killian said, “and likewise, I’m afraid we’re not quite cut out for cold weather anymore. But when Silver and Madi left after – after James, they said that they were going to Lancelot and Ursula’s island to live out the rest of their days. Could be that we’ll join them. Maybe we’re not too old for one last adventure.”

“I’d hope not.” Emma smiled affectionately at her husband and took his arm. “In the meantime, though, I could use some refreshment after this one.”

Sam and Jim grabbed their things, and the family made their way back to the Bellamy-Jones residence, where they discovered that Charlotte, Alix, Cecilia, and Cecilia’s new husband, Allan Stevenson, had arrived just an hour earlier and were being warmly received by Jack (with the exception of Allan, whom he was still staring at with an expression of squiggle-eyed suspicion). There were another round of hugs and greetings, Charlotte and Alix took pity on the men and cooked dinner, and they were just sitting down to eat when there was one final knock on the door. This proved to be a windblown Matthew, Cordelia, and Martha Rogers, and as Martha and Diana squealed and ran to hug each other, Matthew cleared his throat and looked at Jack. “Ah – congratulations, Dr. Bellamy.”

“Thank you, Captain Rogers.” Jack reached out, and they shook hands, without even attempting to break the other’s fingers. As Jack looked at all of them, crammed into his dining room and talking away, Geneva could see him struggling to possibly believe it in the slightest. That he was here in his own home with his husband and all of their extended family, preparing to celebrate his promotion to a professor of medicine at King’s College, that the spring night was warm and long and gold, and that it was real, and right, and good.

The house, while sizeable, was not quite large enough to fit everybody, so Matthew and his family, and Cecilia and Allan, finally departed to the boarding house down the street, where they had taken rooms. Geneva was feeling as if she needed quiet time after all the hubbub and socialization, so she went up to her and Jim’s bedroom and shut the door, listening to the murmur of conversation from below. There was still some blue light lingering on the floorboards, and she went to the desk and lit the candles, gazing thoughtfully out the window and onto the street. Then she turned away, went to her bag, and removed her writing book.

Geneva unpacked her quill and inkwell and pen knife, whittled the quill sharp, and opened the book, searching for the place she had left off. It wasn’t much more than a collection of thoughts and scribbles and loosely linked scenes, but she had been thinking about this recently, about their family’s stories, and that eventually, they might want to do something with it. A General History of the Pyrates had been a runaway bestseller, after all, and she couldn’t help but feel that they too had a tale worth telling. She wasn’t the right person to write it in full, but at least she could compile some of this material, their rich and colorful and tragic and vibrant history. Then one day, it could find its way into the hands of someone who could.

Geneva sat down, dipped the quill, and considered for a long moment. Then she flipped back to the front of the book, supposed that they could always change the title later, and wrote two words.

TREASURE ISLAND.

 THE END

[dykedykegooses]

i'm askin u every single even numbered question for the lesbian ask game

at least you didnt bother with the algebra this time, for which i am thankful

Femme or butch?

i’m more femme but i try to act butch sometimes and i just end up failing hopelessly. ‘look mom i know how to put air in a tire!!’ ‘peyton thats like… not even right’ or ‘oh SHIT look at that blitz!! that was cool’ ‘peyton that was a sack’ ‘oh’

Do you have a “type”? If so, describe it

not really, mostly just like… humor. if u funny we click

Plaid button-ups or leather jackets?

why not both?

no but seriously plaid tbh

Describe your style

um yes

converse, (ripped? sometimes) jeans, and whatever top i feel is appropriate for the Big Aesthetic today

Describe your aesthetic

yes

ive tried going more punk but its just kinda , not worked

my physical aesthetic is very adultolescent. i got chub and look like a freshman but ive been told i pass as a college senior so like

my Big Mood aesthetic is yes

Favorite article of clothing?

either my converse or my “”combat boots”” (theyre not and it makes me sound like an edgelord just saying that) (can you tell im gay)

OH WAIT I FORGOT ABOUT MY JEAN JACKET its like baggy and light and ive started sewing patches from my favorite bands on it (super punk right)

Favorite pair of shoes?

^^^

oh my black strappy heels, theyre surprisingly comfortable

Current haircut?

ive got a bleached bob rn

Any haircut goals for the future?

i kinda want a pixie cut bc i cant handle long hair however long hair is so PRETTY and wow

Describe the best date you’ve been on

iiiiiiiiii dont really know. ive been on very few. i have a Perfect Date in mind, and i guess my favorite was my first date with my ex. we had gotten back from a successful science competition (HAVE I MADE IT OBVIOUS IM A NERD YET IM A BIG OL NERD) and it was like midnight by the time we got back and we were both starving so we went to taco bell and just sat there talking and laughing and i know we were pissing off the staff, but we stayed til like two in the morning and we went home and honestly we both considered it a date but we didnt like… tell each other it was a date? if that makes sense? idk honestly im triggered

Describe the worst date you’ve been on

ugh oh god i went on a tinder date and this girl like in the DMs was like ‘hey do u smoke weed’ and im like ‘lol no’ and then like we made plans to meet up at a coffee shop and she asks me AGAIN if i smoke weed and im like……………. no and shes like ‘oh right lol’ well THIS BITCH sleeps through the time we were supposed to meet, completely stands me up, and then texts me back like an hour later and was like ‘omg im sorry i overslept!!!’ and it was like….. noon but ok so we meet up after my class and we just sit there really awkwardly trying to make conversation and she asks me AGAIN if i smoke weed im like ‘honey no i dont’ and we just talked about drugs for a while and when i left because i had to gtfo she like gave me an awkward hug and like i sent a text later that night bc im courteous and im like ‘hey i had a great time today’ (i didnt) ‘lmk if you ever want to meet up again!!’ and she just. ignored me lol.

Single? Taken?

im currently in a polyamorous relationship with myself and my anxiety

If taken, talk about your girlfriend/wife!

:)

If single, what are you looking for in a potential girlfriend/wife?

someone who’s able to make me laugh and deal with my bad ideas and will let me cook for her and wants to travel the world with me

Describe your dream wedding

its small. outside. maybe in a field or in front of a lake. i dont personally want a big ballgown, just a short white dress will do. lavenders everywhere. R A I N B O W  C A K E. reception where we slow dance to all the sappy romance songs. its great.

Do you want kids?

not really, but ive considered being a foster parent. i feel like im here to do good; i don’t want to have my own biological children, and im not sure i want to have the permanent responsibility of adopting a kid, but i feel i could handle fostering once we’re financially stable and have the room to accept children into our home.

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live?

spain, definitely. somewhere in the north. i want to have a small farm with goats and chickens and vegetables and i want to be away from this american mess.

Favorite lesbian movie?

well ysee…………. the only two explicitly lesbian movies ive seen have been ‘all about E’ and ‘blue is the warmest color’ and i didnt like either of the lmfaoooo i prefer watching lesbian television shows tbqh (or, most commonly, just rewriting all the female characters in my head to be sapphic sooooooo dont @ me)

Favorite lesbian novel/story?

i mean same as above, i dont read as much as i like to. however, i did read “georgia peaches and other forbidden fruit” and that was Really Good and i did read another that was slightly better, but i forget the name but it was about a pakistani (?) girl who was struggling to come out to her parents bc they were very traditionalist but she joins the theater and her like really elite school and the girl she had a crush on basically outs her and is a bitch about it and GOD i wish i could remember it because it was really good

Favorite lesbian song?

ummmmmmmmmmmm i just recently listened to ‘honey’ by kehlani and that was pretty good and pretty gay, but my personal favorite is ‘girls’ by beatrice eli bc holy shit what a Mood

Favorite lesbian musician?

i love mary lambert and beatrice eli.

What lesbian stereotypes do you fit into, if any?

ummmmm now that im thinking of them i cant think of any. i used to play softball and soccer? i love cats. i immediately start planning out the next five years of our lives together anytime im remotely interested in a girl?

Ever been assumed to be nothing more than a gal pal?

i mean………………. no

If a woman wanted to woo you, what would a surefire way to accomplish that?

well bake cookies w me and lets go for a walk & go out and watch the stars at night in the bed of a truck

Be positive! What do you like most about being a lesbian?

I LOVE LOVING GIRLS!!!!!! I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT BEING A LESBIAN!!!!!! GIRLS ARE FANTASTIC!!!!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!

Are you more of a cat person or a dog person?

why not both

idk ive never had a cat but i know i lov them

Turn ons?

i.......... dont know

yes

im gay

Turn offs?

long nails youch theyre pretty to look at but i mean at what price

not having anything to talk about

putting yourself down like a lot (i went on a date w this one girl and that was all she did like the entire date like......... im sorry ? :(???)

Do you usually ask other women out or do you wait for them to ask you?

if im being honest i would love for someone to ask me out but since that is Very Unlikely, i tend to be the one to message first and initiate dates and stuff

What is your dream career?

i want to be a psychological researcher in the field of social comparative psychology how sick is that!!!!! just play with dogs all day and record whether or not they boop their noses on a screen

also i wanna be a farmer and a bookstore owner but thats Farther down the line like , when im 50

Talk about your interests or hobbies!

im honestly such a psych nerd i love psychology what the fuck!! its so interesting like ppl are weird man idk brains are weird

im also having a really big green day phase like billie .. he so smol... and also anyone who wants to bash warning or the trilogy can fight me ok those are like My Favorite Albums

im going to a concert in february to see declan mckenna, a Giant Meme

im getting a tattoo w some lyrics of declan’s actually its gonna be sick

What is the most attractive quality a woman can have?

yes

idk for me its being able to have quick, witty, skillful jokes i just love listening to girls talk and tell stories and jokes like wow im gay

also long curly hair? thats always a Solid Look

Do you love easily or does it take time for you to warm up to someone?

i mean. do we really wanna open this can of worms rn

too late, its open

i get those microcrushes where you like see a girl and youre like ‘WOW IM GAY DATE ME’ however once it comes to actually being in a relationship i throw my full weight behind it and worry that im being too suffocating or that im pushing my boundaries etc and ive been told that makes me come off really cold and uncaring so lol choose ur own adventure, you decide

Ever fallen for your best-friend?

unfortunately

Ever fallen for a straight girl?

can you even call yourself a lesbian if you havent

The L-Word: yes or no? (love it or hate it?)

i havent seen it, im such a fake lesbian

Favorite comfort food?

mac n cheese

or pizza

or cheesy potatos

OR CHEESY TOAST

scientific conclusion: im a fatass

Coffee or tea?

coffer

Vegetarian? Vegan? None of the above?

im vegetarian!! have been on and off for like two years now

Do you have any pets?

i have one pup sittin right next to me and shes the prettiest girl in the world

Early-riser or night-owl?

yes

idk i get up at like 9 which is early for me but not as early as like. 5. so

more like night-owl. thanks teenage hormones!

What is your sign?

pisces

Can you drive?

yes

can i drive well?

no

but i do have a sense of direction so thats cool

Who was your first lesbian crush?

tbh.................... my best friend, but i didnt realize it was a crush at the time

the first Gay Crush i had that i knew was a crush was on my close friend at the time, now my ex girlfriend

At what age did you know you were a lesbian?

uhhhhhhhhhh lesbian specifically, like 15-16. queer, i knew in like fall semester freshman year (so like 13??)

At what age did you come out (if you have)?

i mean, i come out to people all the time. first time i came out explicitly as a lesbian was when i was like 15 or 16 (actually i came out to a close straight friend and my ex and they both said ‘congrats’ like it was weird but very nice) and the first time i came out as queer/questioning was to my then-best friend at like 13 and i came out to my mom (involuntarily) at like 17? ish?

Are you crushing on anyone at the moment (celebrity or otherwise)?

yes im crushing on every girl simultaneously at all times

just kidding

(not really)

i dont really have any explicit crushes that i can think of im just really gay

Talk about how your day went

it was fine. got free froyo so that was cool. found out i made an A on my bio practical, so that was cool too. however, i wore a crop top and it was like 55 degrees out and raining so i looked like a total Idiot but yk follow ur slutty gay dreams amiright ladies

Talk about your dreams/aspirations for the future

most of mine are career-centric, but a few are personal.

i wanna go to costa rica in may, i wanna go to yale over the summer, i wanna go to NYC pride in june, i wanna go to spain after i graduate, i wanna go to grad school, i wanna be a psychological researcher, i wanna move to spain or england or hell even france, i wanna have my own farm with the woman i love, i wanna own an LGBT bookstore/library, i wanna just live a quiet life near the sea and not have to worry so much after a while.

Least favorite gay celebrity?

this is a weird one to end on, but iiiiiiim not sure i have one? i can tell you ellen page is probably my favorite, but i cant think of many i dislike so