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cherryonigiri · 4 years ago

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S/O that thirsts over anime/game guys

reposted bc wasn’t showing up in the tags + I want to keep nsfw under the cut

@nononononojustno asked: Okay so could you write a headcanon where 2 random boys (can you pick then? I love all of boys from hq) and Ushi-kun where they walk on their gfs fangirling or thirsting over another anime/game character?And she was talking how hot he is? How they would react?👀😂 have a great day/night and dont forget to eat and get rest, love you💕

A/N: hahahahaha i laughed while writing this. FYI these are all based on legit crushes i had on anime/game characters at some point in my life - see if you’ve watched the shows i’ve watched :) ILY I PROMISE I’M DOING MY BEST TO EAT THREE MEALS A DAY AND GET ADEQUATE SLEEP MWAH. also i went overboard and added an extra boy bc why not. These are a little shorter since there were 4 characters but I hope you enjoy!

Content warning: implied nsfw for Atsumu + slight nsfw hcs for Matsukawa (both are under the cut)

PS: If anyone wants a spicy sequel/one shot for matsukawa i’m open to the idea 👀👀 let me know in my inbox!

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Ushijima definitely knows you’re into anime + games

Having visited your dorm room on multiple occasions he’s seen your extensive collection of manga, anime posters and you always seem to be playing on your switch whenever you have free time

Of course, he notices a significant portion of your collection is centered on male characters

And you’ve definitely mentioned a few games to him - Ikemen Sengoku, Code:Realize, Hakuouki (wow i’m really out here exposing myself) etc.

He doesn’t really mind though? Like - at the end of the day these are 2D men, whereas he is a very real boyfriend

At least he thinks he doesn’t mind

Recently, he notices that you seem to be on your phone a lot, and you seem to be texting the same group chat very often

He asks why and you laugh - it’s not actual text messages you’re just trying out a new otome/simulation game called Mystic Messenger. He finds the name silly but he just brushes it off he’s definitely J E A L O U S

Until one day he walks into your room while you’re calling one of your friends to freak out about that specific game

You sound kind of teary from outside the door “Oh MY GOD OH MY GOD I GOT THE GOOD ENDING WITH JUMIN!” and “[friend name] I THINK I CAN DIE HAPPY I’M MARRIED TO JUMIN HAN WHAT MORE DO I NEED IN LIFE” and “HE’S SO FREAKING ATTRACTIVE UGH I AM BLESSED”

He’s like who TF is Jumin and immediately bursts into your room looking pissed off

Poor babie is all like “you’re married?” and “if you had someone else you were interested in you should have told me.” “Who is this Jumin Han???” 🧐

Oh my god you start cackling, but you manage to tell him that NO you are not married and that Jumin Han is a fictional character from the game you’re playing

Ushijima looks confused after you explain - why would you find fictional men attractive when you’re already dating him?

Tendou almost dies laughing the next day when Ushijima tells him about what happened

Oikawa Tooru

Since practice finishes pretty late he usually goes to see you at your house at night, but tonight things wrapped up earlier - he’s excited to spend more time with you

You’ve finished up most of your homework so you’ve just been rewatching Attack on Titan since you’re super excited for the new season

You’re kinda distracted/have headphones on so you don’t hear your boyfriend knock on the front door. Your mom answers it and lets him in and he climbs the stairs

He can hear your fangirling (freaking out) over something as he walks towards your room

You jump in surprise when he opens the door, because you thought he would be a bit later but immediately release your pent up excitement

“Tooru just LOOK at him he’s such a bad ass like oh my gosh he literally has swords and he’s still running around slaying the MPs who have guns. God whenever he gets angry he looks so hot,” etc. etc.

You’re shoving your laptop in his face, showing him gifs and video of attack on titan, specifically the captain of the survey corps that you are obsessed with

Tooru gets it - for him its space, shitty alien films and astronomy. For you it’s video games and anime - or more specifically, handsome characters from said franchises

Even though he understand that it’s something you’re passionate about he still makes a whole show about whining how you’re in love with Levi Ackerman (lmao i still thirst over our favorite captain) instead of him

“y/n i’m taller than him! And more handsome! He has blood on him all the time! And he’s super annoying because he’s obsessed with cleaning.” *cue pouty Tooru*

You probably shouldn’t tell him that you are an avid follower of the levi x reader tag on tumblr

Tooru still somehow finds out you’re also reading reader insert fanfic and goes BERSERK with his pouting and whining - literally everyone and their mothers have heard his sob story about how “his darling y/n is leaving me for a short germaphobic asshole”

The rest of the team finds it hilarious - the end up pranking him by posting pictures of Levi in his school locker or texting them in the volleyball groupchat (Oikawa is Suffering™)

Makki and Mattsun get him a Levi keychain for his birthday and cackle when he chucks it violently into the nearest trash can

Miya Atsumu

Doesn’t really know you’re into anime/gaming at first

I don’t think that’s on purpose - Atsumu just has such a one track mind when it comes to volleyball and he’s always busy with practice

so he just kinda doesn’t really give all the anime merch in your room a second glance even though it’s a dead giveaway

I bet Atsumu secretly watches some superhero anime - probably shounen stuff like My Hero Academia, one punch man etc.

He probably starts to notice you’re into anime/games because you’ll play games on your phone/gaming device all the time

One day he notices you’re giggling + blushing while looking at your screen. He’s curious to he heads over to you when coach says they can have a break

Peeks over your shoulder because he wants to know what you’re playing - but instead he’s greeted by some 2D samurai guy called Harada Sanosuke asking you to marry him

“Huh, I didn’t know you were into this kinda stuff y/n” tries to sound playful but internally he is screaming / ?????? WOT I DIDN’T KNOW MY S/O WAS INTO OTOME GAMES

Atsumus pretty chill about it at first, he probably teases you a lot about playing the game but isn’t really bugged about it

“Maybe you should thirst over your boyfriend instead of a fictional character babe~”

I mean - he knows he’s attractive and why be jealous? You only really play the game when he’s busy and you don’t really let the game play seep into your dates/hangouts

But one time he walks in on you reading some ~spicy~ hakuouki x reader fanfic and he’s like are u serious

Like you were lowkey quiet screaming to yourself and muttering “omg omg omg” when he walked in and you definitely tried to close your laptop so he couldn’t see what was open in your browser

Too bad Atsumu has mad reflexes and manages to prevent you from making your computer go to sleep

Briefly skims whatever it was that you were reading and smirks at you

“Hey, if you really want something like this, why don’t you let your real boyfriend deliver” before kissing you

Matsukawa Issei

Look, Issei just wants a chill movie/tv show night where the two of you can bundle up on the couch and binge whatever anime you feel like

Has everything set up - this man is ready to go: snacks? he has all of your favorites, couch? filled with soft pillows + multiple pillows. Attire? Comfy sweatpants shirtless 🥵

Last time he chose the series for your binge sleepover so he let you choose what the two of you were gonna watch this time

Turns out you decided to watch Psycho-Pass - it seemed like a pretty cool show, he was down with the whole dystopia/psychological concept

Starts out pretty normal, is appreciating the action + mystery elements and is glad that you chose that show

About halfway through the anime you two decide to take a break - he goes to the kitchen to refill your snacks, leaving to stretch you back.

When he comes back with more food, he notices that you’re hunched over your phone, typing something

He sneaks up behind you after he puts the food down, “Whatcha reading there babe?” You squeak and try to hide your phone, but not before he sees the words kougami x reader typed into your tumblr search bar

Lit-rally exCuSE me what - he’s not mad (more amused than anything else) but he also kind wants to tease you (bc Mattsun is a little shit)

“Is that the reason you wanted to watch this show?” he asks playfully. “He’s pretty hot tho, I kinda agree with you there babe.”

Now that he’s released the floodgate, he can’t stop your occasional comments like “omg how does he look so GOOD when he’s punching someone” or “he could shoot me with his dominator and i’d still say thank you”

The thirst comments are kinda getting to him, so he decides to take things in a different direction

“Let me what I can show you with my dominator~” L M A O I’M SORRY THIS EXISTS

Suddenly you’re being pulled onto his lap, and pressed against his bare chest, Issei barely gives you time to adjust before he’s kissing you roughly, tongue plunging into your mouth

His hands wrap around your hips pressing your core closer to his own, and you can feel his hard-on pressing into your stomach

He’ll be sure to suck a dark hickey onto the side of your neck and his hands travel under your shirt, just to remind you who your real boyfriend is

Needless to say, you won’t remember a single thing about the second half of the show after the night is over couch sex? Couch sex 😏

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bridgertown · 4 years ago

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How Bridgerton is poised to revolutionize romance on television

Lace up your corset and put up your dukes.

Words by Maureen Lee Lenker, November 13, 2020

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a Regency romance must be in want of glittering ballrooms, witty banter, a dashing leading man, and a piquant heroine.

Bridgerton, Netflix’s first scripted title with über-producer Shonda Rhimes’ Shondaland production company — under its headline-grabbing $150 million deal — has all of this in abundance. Not to mention a diverse cast that’s a far cry from the typical lily-white hues of Jane Austen adaptations and their ilk. Oh, and the narrator is a Regency-era Gossip Girl voiced by Julie Andrews. As showrunner Chris Van Dusen puts it, “It’s not your grandmother’s period [piece].”

Based on a series of romance novels by Julia Quinn — beginning with The Duke and I, which offers the season 1 blueprint — Bridgerton follows Daphne Bridgerton (Phoebe Dynevor), a debutante who’s thirsty for a love match. Buoyed (and slightly overprotected) by her family, including her marriage-obsessed mum, Violet (Ruth Gemmell), and her seven siblings, Daphne embarks on a fauxmance with Simon, the Duke of Hastings (Regé-Jean Page). “When we first meet her, she’s this young, naive woman who’s been in this little bubble and doesn’t know anything about love or sex,” says Dynevor.

Simon, meanwhile, is hell-bent on avoiding matrimony, as part of a vengeful vow he made to his execrable father. Page drew inspiration from the classic Romantic poet Lord Byron to craft a character who is part aesthete, part brooding enigma. “You have this beautiful, shadowy, broken, thoroughly complex man, who is as glamorous as we all wish we were on the outside,” notes Page. “But [he’s] trying to figure out who he is.”

It’s standard fare for Shondaland: men and women looking to find themselves within the social confines of their reality. This time it’s in a completely different world, one that shares the female-gaze ethos that often defines Shondaland series — think Grey’s Anatomy, Scandal, and more. Romance novels account for nearly a quarter of all fiction book sales, yet they’re rarely fodder for splashy screen adaptations. “I never thought this would happen to me,” Quinn says. “Nobody was adapting romance novels, and if somebody was going to do a period piece, they wanted to do another adaptation of Jane Austen or the Brontë sisters.”

That prestige gap between Austen and mass-market historical romance was something executive producer Betsy Beers admits she bumped up against when Rhimes first recommended the novels to her. “I didn’t take what the books were as seriously as I could’ve initially,” she says. “But there should be no pejorative association with romance novels. Nobody sneezes at suspense, at action, at true crime. These are just good stories about relationships, about emotional politics, about how you juggle duty, love, and lust.”

For Van Dusen, the 280-year evolution of romance writing was something to exploit. “I wanted to infuse everything with my own unique, modern lens,” he says. “The tone is very spirited and daring. Everything’s fresh and youthful. There’s a little effervescence to everything.”

That freshness manifests throughout — from the score, which features classical string arrangements of contemporary pop songs (Ariana Grande’s “thank u, next,” Shawn Mendes’ “In My Blood”), to the costumes (“Jane Austen loved her bonnets, but Bridgerton is a bonnet-free world,” quips Van Dusen). But nowhere is it more evident than in the casting.

The series looks like any Shondaland show: multi-hued and reflective of the world we live in. Romance novelists like Vanessa Riley and Diana Quincy are challenging the established narrative of who inhabited the 19th-century aristocracy. Austen herself featured a mixed-race heiress in her unfinished novel Sanditon. But such a cast is still dismayingly rare in period pieces.

Though the casting here is a far cry from the source material, Quinn wholeheartedly endorses it. “Bridgerton isn’t a history lesson; it’s a show for a modern audience,” she notes. There were, of course, people of color who existed in this time and place, but the show hands them more power than historical assumptions allow. It imagines a British aristocracy where Queen Charlotte (Golda Rosheuvel) is of mixed race (a fact some historians suggest there’s evidence for), thus elevating other people of color to dukedoms and positions of status. “It’s not color-blind casting,” explains Beers. “We try to imagine history and the world in the way we wanted to see it.”

It’s what allows Page to play the powerful, devastatingly handsome duke, a role that previously would have been the exclusive domain of white actors. For Page, who made his U.S. TV debut as Chicken George in the 2016 remake of Roots, it makes Bridgerton’s romantic narrative even more potent. “With color-conscious casting, I get to exist as a Black person in the world,” he says. “It doesn’t mean I’m a slave. It doesn’t mean we have to focus on trauma. It just means we get to focus on Black joy and humanity.”

That joy opens up another narrative component often left behind closed doors in period drama: intimacy. Typically, the Regency’s idea of sexual tension is the brush of a gloved hand, but in the world of Bridgerton, audiences find themselves in an opera singer’s boudoir within the first 10 minutes. “The sexiness and the steaminess was always going to be there,” says Van Dusen, adding that it’s core to the “education of Daphne Bridgerton.”

Dynevor echoes this, explaining that the show’s sex scenes, overseen by an intimacy coordinator, were as intricately choreographed as a fight sequence. But for Dynevor, it was a key part of Daphne’s arc, one that foregrounds her character’s wants above any objectified desirability. (What other Regency literary adaptations feature a heroine experimenting with self-pleasure at the suggestion of her suitor?)

“It’s not often you see sex [treated] in that way,” Dynevor reflects. “It wasn’t gratuitous. It was so essential in Daphne’s journey and sexual awakening. I love the fact that it is very much the female gaze.”

That gaze is the connective tissue between Shondaland and romance publishing, a match so fortuitous it could only end in happily ever after. “[The show] is not going to be so different from the experience of reading a romance novel,” Van Dusen concludes. “It’s sexy and a little dangerous and fun. It leaves you a little hot and bothered and breathless.” Fetch the fainting couch — and the remote.

Bridgerton hits Netflix on Dec. 25.

#long post #bridgerton #the bridgertons #bridgerton netflix #netflix #netflix bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #simon basset #julia quinn #ew #entertainment weekly #article

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nomanwalksalone · 4 years ago

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ALTERNATIVE STYLE ICON: RICHARD CHAMBERLAIN IN WALLENBERG: A HERO’S STORY

by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans

The writer George Santayana famously wrote that those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. Ironically many who repeat his quote forget who first uttered it.

I had long meant to write about Richard Chamberlain in this role. I once referred to him as “the fey king of the miniseries” and I don’t regret it: foppish, almost milquetoast in fare as varied as a two-part TV version of The Bourne Identity (with Jaclyn Smith, natch), Shogun, and as a leading candidate for an honorary Seinfeld puffy shirt: Not only did he play the Count of Monte Cristo in a 1975 TV movie, but a bunch of what Elaine Benes would have called chandelier-swinging characters in other Dumas adaptations, including Aramis in Richard Lester’s The Three Musketeers and Louis XIV and his twin in The Man in the Iron Mask. Postmodern swashbuckler author Arturo Perez-Reverte even described a character in one of his own novels as looking “like Richard Chamberlain in The Thorn Birds, only more manly.” That same Thorn Birds role, Father Ralph de Bricassart, also inspired a certain Rhunette Ferguson to give her son, a future New York Jets player, perhaps my favorite name ever: D’Brickashaw.

Dubbing Chamberlain an Alternative Style Icon for his role as Swedish diplomat Raoul Wallenberg is low-hanging fruit. For years this TV special dwelt at the bottom of my Netflix queue for that express purpose. Former Savile Row tailors Manning & Manning won an Emmy award for the outfits they made for him; decades later Bryan Manning had some very interesting things to say to the inimitable Simon Crompton of Permanent Style about the 1930s and 1940s cutting styles he had to adopt for Chamberlain’s outfits for the movie. Chamberlain’s costumes are appropriately dashing, from the full diplomatic gala white tie ensemble worn while conspiring with the Papal Nuncio of Budapest to a tan double-breasted suit with horizontal peaked lapels that is, quite simply, magnificent. Zagreb, one of the most beautiful cities in eastern Europe, admirably filled in for 1940s Budapest and Stockholm in the making of this production. I’m fairly certain that I’ve stayed at the Zagreb hotel on whose esplanade Chamberlain wore that suit, in an early expository scene where the American and Swedish governments encourage Wallenberg to take a position with the Swedish legation in Budapest. I’ve been told Zagreb’s one of two cities in Europe where the street lamps in certain neighborhoods are still gaslit. Gaslighting happens to have been one of the reasons that I finally wrote about this icon.

Of course there’s plenty to mock in the conventions of this telefilm, even beyond Chamberlain’s indisputable 1970s and 1980s stock hero status: its heavy-handed setup and plotting, making Wallenberg out to be a one-man anti-Nazi force from his time at home in Sweden (wearing a U. Michigan sweatshirt to indicate that he had studied in the US - did college sweatshirts even exist back then?). Miniseries meant melodrama and its archetypal characters: an adorable child whom Wallenberg saves from the death camps only to die of illness; a shoehorned-in love interest in the form of a kindhearted baroness who lobbies her suspicious husband to relax the Hungarian government's strictures on Jews; a fiery Hungarian resistance fighter who provides the unofficial, combative counterpoint to Wallenberg’s diplomatic, humanitarian efforts through official channels. And, of course, Wallenberg’s kidnapping by the Soviets at the fall of Budapest meant his story was perfectly framed for 1985, when we still couldn’t trust those Russians. (In fact, to this day no one knows what they did with him.)

A few appropriately haunting and powerful moments do ring true, including Wallenberg’s cordial verbal fencing matches over contraband Scotch and cigarettes with Adolf Eichmann. Whether those meetings really took place in that form or not, their film versions appropriately capture the realities of how we are forced to engage with evil. Rarely are we simply battling an easily identifiable other, weapon to weapon. Instead, we encounter evil in the everyday – in fact, it seeks us out, finds shared ground, converses with us over pleasantries and hospitality even as we recognize its intentions. It identifies with us, we identify with it. Even as you know it is evil.

Eichmann had made it his avowed duty to kill the Jews of Europe. Wallenberg’s mission, as an emissary of an officially neutral power, was to help save as many as he could. And he did, through famously fearless, reckless endeavors including the distribution of thousands of official-looking Swedish passes to the Jews of Budapest, the creation of vast cultural centers and warehouses in the Swedish mission buildings in which these new countrymen could work under the aegis of their adoptive country, and savvy diplomatic maneuvering with the Hungarian and German authorities and military. He went as far as to climb on top of a train bound for Auschwitz and distribute passes to as many deportees as he could while soldiers fired shots at him. Looking back, historians suggest they were firing over his head to warn him as they could easily have dropped him at that range, but it’s not likely Wallenberg knew that at the time.

At that time diplomats of neutral powers could make fortunes more safely as armchair heroes: playboy Porfirio Rubirosa reportedly did so in Paris selling visas to the Dominican Republic to French Jews during World War II. In that respect, perhaps, both he and Wallenberg were heroes… of different sorts.

Wallenberg did not do it for money. The Wallenbergs were Swedish aristocracy (with, the film takes pains to remind us, an ounce of Jewish blood) with considerable means – hence the finely tailored wardrobe for Chamberlain. Thus, an easy cynical response to this essay could be that a rich aristocrat with diplomatic immunity risked nothing swanning around the salons of Budapest, just like the fictional gentleman spies we read about and watch on screen.

That response is wrong. Heroism is not just born of opportunity. It is recognizing when a choice confronts you and taking the difficult, unpopular and dangerous one in order to do what is right. Fictional heroes like Bond or Steed rarely suffer meaningful personal loss and rarely confront the reality of evil. Evil is your friend with many positive qualities, maybe more intelligent or cultured or better dressed than you, the one you looked up to, who gradually reveals the awful things he or she believes and has done. Evil is those complicit in carrying out those things by their inaction, their credulity, or their cooperation, not at the point of a gun but of a paycheck. Evil is legal, logically explained, repeated and reported until its baseless reasoning becomes fact and the foundation for more lies, more evil. Evil can so easily become the system.

Hindsight is a handicap, for it doesn’t usually permit us to see that there were no times without ambiguity in battles between good and evil and no certainty that good triumphs. We have the privilege of retrospect to acknowledge the dashing diplomat in Savile Row suits was a hero for saving innocents from deportation and death as part of the most ghastly genocide in history. We learned what genocide is, and had to invent the word to describe it. Because at that time the people singled out for persecution and death were unpopular, historically, socially and legally marginalized, supposedly easily identifiable and classifiable. A group that societies had made it easy - through regulation, ghettoization, oppression and antagonism – to hate, and whole false narratives drawn up to explain why that group hated and wanted to destroy us even more than we them.

One of A Hero’s Story’s most timely and inspiring lines is Wallenberg’s reply to the Hungarian ruler’s query why the King of Sweden cared so much about the Jews of another country, when he was a Christian. Wallenberg reminded the prime minister that the King’s “concerns transcend religion or national borders.” That concern is humanity, our lowest common denominator, our shared recognition of our capacity for suffering. That concern drove a man to acts of incredible selflessness, a generous mercy that seems to have cost him his liberty and his life. There is no romance to Raoul Wallenberg’s fate. It is worth remembering that he probably saw little romance in the actions he took in Budapest.

Now is no less an unromantic time, no less a time when others – so many different others –are easily denigrated, feared, distrusted, brutalized. Otherization, both of many within our borders and pressing against them, has returned, as has fascism, with apologists blandly elegant or brutally populist, like some inauspicious comet in our skies. Now, again, is a time for heroes – men and women who recognize how difficult and dangerous it is to do what is right. That struggle is far from those of Chamberlain’s habitual roles swashbuckling against a monolithic, universally despicable, evil. Evil is among us, habituating us, desensitizing us, gaslighting us. Far from frills and fanfare, celebration, or certainty of triumph, can we place ourselves in Wallenberg’s Budapester shoes and do what is right?

Quality content, like quality clothing, ages well. This post first appeared on the No Man blog in February 2017.

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letterboxd · 5 years ago

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How I Letterboxd #2: Dave Chen

In our second of this series, we put Dave Chen in the Letterboxd spotlight. The podcaster, musician and filmmaker is most famous on Letterboxd for his weirdly specific lists. He tells us how he uses the platform, why every film that exists is miraculous, and why we shouldn’t sleep on Not Another Teen Movie.

Hi Dave! How long have you been on Letterboxd? About eight years. I believe I first signed up when it was in beta. I loved (and still love) the interface: how smooth the user flow is for logging/reviewing films, and how beautiful all that movie art looks as it’s organized on the site.

What do you mainly use Letterboxd for? I love reading the reviews on Letterboxd. On a film’s page, the site surfaces many of the most popular reviews and I find it’s a great way to find some quick, witty, and thoughtful comments on something I might be considering watching. But of course, I also love reading and making funny lists. Finally, I’ve heard Letterboxd is great for keeping track of films at a film festival but sadly I haven’t yet attended one since I started using it again.

Do you rate films? Would you consider yourself a generous or harsh rater? I rate films to remind myself how I felt about them at the time I watched. Of course, my opinions on movies change but it’s sometimes interesting to look back and think back to a time when, “Oh right, I did love that movie in the summer of 2019 when I was going through XYZ”. Our feelings about movies can often reflect what’s going on in our lives.

That said, over time, I’ve come to understand that films are miracles. I don’t think I’m the first person to come up with this observation but they are like miniature plays resulting from the collective work of hundreds or thousands of people that have been preserved for your amusement, and you can just play them on demand. Many of them cost only a few dollars. Some are free! Every film that exists is miraculous.

So, despite some of my harsh reviews, I do try to keep that perspective in mind.

You’ve been a member for a while but most of your reviews are recent. What brought you back? We note that you restarted with your third viewing of 1917! I am pretty active on Twitter and I started seeing a bunch of screen-capped reviews go viral there. But to be honest, much of social media can be exhausting to me these days. What I realized recently about Letterboxd was that much of it is free of the negativity. It’s just a bunch of folks who love movies sharing thoughts on those movies, but it also feels like a real community of people. There are filmmakers on there who share their thoughts on films and their favorites, and that’s of course endlessly fascinating (such as Sean Baker). Even the negative reviews can be fun to read. There’s a lot of pithiness and wit on the site, and its design really helps facilitate that.

Okay, take us way back, what was the film that got you hooked on cinema? My first cinematic true loves were the films of John Woo. I’d watched action movies before but I was introduced to John Woo ironically by a counselor at my church youth group! I became dazzled by movies like The Killer and Hard Boiled. It was then that I realized that things I had seen dozens of times (e.g., a shootout in a warehouse) could be elevated by sheer craftsmanship.

What keeps you from sharing your four favorites on your profile? A few reasons. For me personally, it takes months if not years for my thoughts on a film to really crystallize. My relationship with a movie doesn’t end when the credits roll—its ideas and themes and images are often clanging around in the back of my head for months if not years afterwards. As a result, my favorite films of all time change pretty frequently and I didn’t want to have to think about maintaining my four favorites over time.

Michael Caine in Alfonso Cuarón’s ‘Children of Men’ (2006).

Is there any film you could say is your all-time number one? If I had to name one though, it’d probably be Children of Men. It combines all my favorite things into one movie: science fiction, action, Michael Caine and a heartfelt message about how humanity has to be kinder to one another if we are to survive the challenging days ahead.

Your most popular lists are weirdly specific and fun (but true!). What are some other weirdly specific lists on Letterboxd that spoke to you? All the lists I like fall into that category. I love it when people make connections that I never otherwise would’ve thought of. To make a funny list, I think you need to be able to juggle extremely specific pattern recognition with a description that makes people feel like they are learning something about the films or their subjects. While the vast majority of the time these are just for fun, sometimes they actually can lead to insights about filmmakers, actors and the specific themes they try to bring to life in their work.

Also, shout out to Thijs Meuwese, who is leading the way on creative lists.

What is your favorite or most useful feature on Letterboxd? The Stats page [generated for all Pro and Patron members] is a beautiful visualization of the history of my film watching. As I continue to build out my watch history, I’m curious to see the trends that will arise.

What’s a movie where you don’t understand why Letterboxd members love or hate it so much? To answer this question, I took a look at some “worst-rated films on Letterboxd” lists and here’s a totally random one for you: the teen romantic comedy parody Not Another Teen Movie. It’s rated a 2.6 and a lot of the humor of this film has aged poorly but there are some amazing gags in here and it features Chris Evans in a performance that will likely be the apex of the comedic phase of his career. My brother and I still quote this movie to each other. Don’t sleep on it.

Chyler Leigh and Chris Evans in ‘Not Another Teen Movie’ (2001).

Your feature film, Stephen Tobolowsky’s one-man show The Primary Instinct, has a Letterboxd page and a pretty solid rating, congrats! How do you feel having that livestream of instant reactions to it? I’m glad that the ratings are decent, but to be honest, I can’t bring myself to look at them! As part of the filmmaking process, I’m totally open to constructive feedback from people I know and trust, but I’m not sure I can handle the same from strangers. Nonetheless, I’m grateful some Letterboxd members have seen fit to watch the film and take the time to rate it! Perhaps if I make more films in the future, I’ll feel better about checking out the reviews for an individual one.

Among your other skills, you are a talented musician. Can you tell us about some of your favorite film scores? Any cello-heavy scores or composers you find particularly influential? While not really cello-specific, the music of Nicholas Britell makes amazing use of strings (see Moonlight and [TV series] Succession). His music is achingly beautiful and is often in rotation in my playlists.

More generally, Hans Zimmer and John Williams are both legends and I’ve always found their work to be very interesting. In recent days, I’ve been quite taken with the work of Daniel Pemberton, whose work on films like King Arthur and The Man from U.N.C.L.E. have a great populsive energy to them. Finally, when I’m into something more moody, atmospheric or modern, I appreciate the work of Cliff Martinez.

Are you self-isolating right now due to Covid-19? Discovered anything great and new to you to pass the time? We hope everything is alright otherwise! Yes, I'm quarantining due to a “stay safe and healthy” order in Washington State right now. Like many people staying at home, I’ve been watching a lot of TV, which includes things like Tiger King, Devs, Better Call Saul, and Dave (the show on Hulu). These are the things that give me comfort and distraction these days.

Jennifer Ehle in Steven Soderbergh’s ‘Contagion’ (2011).

What are your go-to comfort movies that you recommend to people at this strange and difficult time? This is a weird recommendation, but I’d say Steven Soderberg’s Contagion is a great choice. Contagion depicts a virus far more deadly than Covid-19, and how it eventually leads to the deterioration of the social order. But it’s also a deeply hopeful movie. You see governments come together to try to figure this thing out. You see the people on the front lines risking their lives to fight the fictional virus and I think it’s a great way to help people understand how courageous and valuable all our medical workers are in times like these. It’s “competence porn” in an era where I think we need to be reminded of what competence looks like.

[Editor’s note: Dave isn’t alone, Contagion has consistently been in our 20 most popular films for the past month.]

When the universe is allowed to go back to the cinema, where do you prefer to sit? As close to the center of the theater as possible, with my eyeline at about halfway up the screen.

What’s in your ‘hall of shame’—the movies you haven’t seen and know Letterboxd will boo at you for missing? Don’t worry, we’ll protect you. The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and Say Anything. Also Firefly, the Joss Whedon show which I don’t think is on your website anywhere. Many people have been complaining to me about this oversight in my viewership for years so I think it’ll do well if we can list it here.

Which film from the past ten years that went by fairly unloved do you think will be a future classic and you’ll fight to the death for loving? I’m going to cheat a little and list a movie that’s eleven years old: Tony Gilroy’s Duplicity. This movie didn’t do super well at the box office when it was first released and currently has a 2.8 on Letterboxd. But it was one of my top ten films that year. I think Clive Owen and Julia Roberts have great chemistry, but I think the film’s depiction of corporate espionage is outlandish, fun and irresistible. These characters are playing a "triple game" and it’s so much fun to see the layers upon layers of deception that they’re creating, and the cascading impacts they have on their relationship. Also, how can you say no to a movie that has Paul Giamatti and Tom Wilkinson as competing CEOs literally going at each other?

And finally, please name three other Letterboxd members you recommend we follow. I collaborate with Melissa on YouTube/podcast reviews and she is incredibly thoughtful and articulate. I always appreciate Khoi’s thoughtfulness. And Mike Ginn—this guy is hilarious.

You can enjoy more Dave on his website; his YouTube channel; and his podcasts The Slashfilmcast and Culturally Relevant. Dave was photographed by Brandon Hill.

#letterboxd #how i letterboxd #dave chen #letterboxd members #letterboxd community #cinephile #film lover

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benjaminjofaiho · 5 years ago

Text

The Captain Next Door Ch.5

Summary: You’re a doctor who also just so happens to be a fan fiction writer. You love lots of fandoms but Captain America is by far your fave, so what happens when you get a new job, move to Brooklyn and realize that the brownstone you bought is right next door to Captain America? Obviously shenanigans ensue.

Warnings: Swearing.

It’s worth noting that I do not care for or abide by the timeline, there are some people mentioned that haven’t technically been brought together yet [ As per Winter Soldier ] but I did it anyway. P.S. I do not currently have a beta and the ‘f’ and ‘u’ keys on my keyboard are messed up so incase you see repeating letters anywhere they aren’t supposed to be feel free to let me know.

AN: I had so much fun writing this chapter. Please reblog and share. Your feedback is always welcome and I love hearing from y’all.

You looked at his back muscles and not to mention nice ass as he walked up the steps to your house. Yeah. This was definitely going into a fic. The world needs to know about this physique. He turned back to you and asked you if you were ready with that milliwatt smile. You were ready alright. Ready to jump his bones. Just as he was about to turn his keys into his house your phone started to ring. You lifted it to see The Bone Man’s smiling face.

“Boner, what’s up?”

“Hey babe, Do you got time for a couple consults?” A couple? Usually it was just the one or two.

“What do you mean a couple?” You hesitated, putting your finger up to Steve, you were completely taken out of your flirty and laid back mood it was work time. He turned to completely face you and lean on his front door.

“Yeah I know you’re not working today but there was a freak accident on the highway. I have about 10 patients that need to go into surgery but I need your okay and the on call doctor isn’t answering his phone.”

“Fucking Daniels. I bet he’s golfing with members of the bboard. I’ll be there, gimme 20.” Ending the call and biting your lip you looked at Steve. You were going to get to go into CAPTAIN AMERICA’S house but Dr. Daniels was in absentia so you were the next call.

“Listen I’m really sorry but I have to go, there’s emergency at work.” Looking at your watch you absent-mindedly said “I told him 20 but it’ll be more like an hour, I totally forgot it’s rush hour. Alright Captain, duty calls.” Turning and running to go to your brownstone and get your workbag and change your clothes you heard Steve calling out for you.

“Y/N! Wait!” You turned to see him jogging up to you “Where do you work?”

“Mount Sainai. Why?”

“It doesn't have to take that long.”

Scrunching your face you told him “ I know about the subway, but I don’t know it that well and I don't want to risk getting lost. Plus I heard the MTA is really unreliable and I don't have time for any delays right now” Spinning back around your continued to your house but you were stopped by an arm around your bicep. It felt as if your body came alive. Usually when you were thinking about work you had a really one track mind. Work was still on your mind while your bicep burned, it just wasn't at the forefront. You looked down and saw a large hand that you would have imagined was very rough but was actually soft and then looked up to Steve’s face. For a moment he was staring down at his hand too. Snapping out of whatever haze he was in he let you go.

“Sorry.” His hand shot up. “I can get you there in 15.”

“15 minutes?” You asked, confused. It took 20 minutes to get to work without traffic. How was he going to get you there faster than that? You decided to voice that particular concern.

“Just trust me, Go get your stuff and I’ll be waiting for you when you get out.” Knowing you had no time to argue you just turned and ran up the steps into you home. Within ten minutes you were back with your hair up in a bun and jeans with a blouse. All signs of Saturday rest and relaxation were off of you. And there he sat. Atop a fucking motorcycle. You almost tripped over nothing and your eyes were bugging. You were sure of it..

“Absolutely not.” You began.

“You’ll be fineeeee” He started to persuade. “ Think of all the people you could save. And potentially loose if you call an Uber. Come on. Get on.” Realizing he was right you were about to get up behind him and then you stopped again.

“What’s up Doc?” He smiled. Under normal circumstances that would have gotten a light chuckle out of you. But aren’t weekend Y/N. Weekend Y/N had checked out and Work Y/N was here and in complete control despite her faltering 10 minutes ago.

“I can’t get on that death trap without a helmet” You shrugged pulling out your phone about to open the Uber app.

“Hey” He said and he was in front of you in an instant. “Of course I would get you a helmet. We have to protect the precious cargo.” Handing you an all-black helmet. How many times would he alone you make you grateful for your melanin that a blush you could feel was creeping up behind. He took your bag from you while letting you put the helmet on. He sat on the bike and waited for you to get on. This was the closest you’d been to him in your almost 3 months of knowing each other and you weren’t touching him but you might as well have been. You could feel the heat radiating off his back. Flipping the face shield up you asked how you wouldn't fly off. Was there some sort of mini motorcycle seatbelt or something?

“Yeah of course look at the end of your arms” He laughed. “You can either wrap them around me or hold on to that little railing on either side of the back.” You looked back and indeed there was a little railing, then opting to respect his boundaries; hold on to those. The engine come alive beneath you and you let out a little squeal you hoped he didn't hear.

“Ready? He shouted.

“Yeah” You shouted back trying to sound as normal as possible. You were off and zipping through your borough and were on the highway in 4 minutes. Shortly after you pulled up behind a sedan where you stayed for almost a full minute. Traffic was no joke and you started to think maybe it would have been better for you to take the subway. Moving closer to Steve so he could hear you began to shout over all the engines around you.

“Traffic is worse than I expected! I think I should have gotten on the subway”. In lieu of responding he just shook his head. You heard him saying something from behind the screen shield of his helmet. After asking what several times, he annoying flipped up his visor and said “I said hold on!” You were the closest you'd ever been in your months of knowing each other. You were able to see his eyes weren’t all the way blue actually, they had a bit of gold flecks in them. Only being able to manage a strangled ‘okay’ he flipped his visor down.

Grabbing the handles behind you and clenching your teeth you closed your eyes and prepared for the worst. But you weren’t prepared for what happened. The world started to fly by you and all you could see the back of Steve and the your blurred surrounding. Before you knew it you were screaming and found your arms all the way wrapped around Captain America. Boundaries be damned, this man was trying to kill you. Did you he know you belonged to people? Did he know you were someone’s child? You both made it to the hospital in 9 minutes and you got off the back of his bike with shaking knees.

“Steven. It feels like my esophagus dropped through my chest knocking my heart into my stomach causing a ripple effect that made my uterus fly out of my asshole.” Before being able to stop yourself your hands shot up to cover your mouth. “Excuse my language. I appreciate the ride but that was crazy.” Meanwhile Steve was keeled over his handlebars laughing enough for the whole island of Manhattan.

Between fits of laughter he managed “Y/N, you know to call me Steve come on. And plus it was my pleasure, you've been feeding me well for months so this was honestly the least I could do. By the way what time do you get off work?”

“Oh Steve, you don’t have to do that-” he cut you off immediately.

“I’ll be in the area. I was supposed to come down here during the week but since I’m already here I might as well get stuff done. Plus, I’ve been hearing a lot about global warming, and that its my generations fault and how we can help emissions by doing communal rides and such which, so I’m picking you up because it’s my civil duty, and to collectively lower our…carbon footprint?” you couldn't help but smile. You were had no idea the great Captain America was a rambler.

“Okay.” And you both looked at each other smiling small and you turned to walk away. Turing back around “Oh! By the way, if you happen to finish your…stuff before I’m done take Sonia’s number. She’ll be able to direct you to my office where you can wait and if you’re hungry she can grab you something to eat as well. There’s a TV in there so you can watch the news or whatever old men do” You ended laughing and his smile got bigger as well. Turning around and walking through the automatic doors of the hospital Work Y/N was back. It was game time.

After quickly changing into your scrubs and lab coat you paged Boner and were able to find him near intake with a patient.

“Bone man, talk to me” You began. You heard a patient laugh and question Bone man?

“Excuse me ma’am, Dr. Y/L/N. knows my name is Dr.Siriboe she just likes to joke.” He leaned in close to her like he was about to reveal a top secret and put his hand up to the side of his mouth. “You know I heard she wanted to be a comedian at first, but she didn’t have the chops so she settled for being a doctor. Not as funny but I guess it keeps the lights on” He ended with a shrug. The patient began to laugh. You knew Boner was funny but he wasn't tears in your eyes funny. This was because he was a handsome surgeon. You were woman enough to admit his good looks. Keeping it as professional as you could with someone you’d known for so long, you got started.

With a smile still on your voice you asked “So, what do we have here?”

====================Steve’s POV=======================

He had nothing to do. Absolutely nothing. But when he felt her arms wrap around him like that? He knew he was hooked and was looking for any way to get a fix. So he pulled up to the place he would always go when he needed time to think. The Met.

The Met served as a sort of mental relief and motivation/inspiration, depending on his head space when he decided to visit. But as of late, he hadn’t needed to visit because. He didn’t know he just felt, satiated. He looked around at various exibits and found himself staring at a portrait of an open field of flowers. Physically he was staring at that painting but in reality he was looking through it, and thinking of you. He spent the next few hours wandering around the Meuseum for hours. Around 6 he decided to head back over to the hospital to see if she was ready to go.

Upon arrival he texted Sonia and got the instructions to your office. Finally walking in he saw the smile on your assistant’s face welcoming him and asking him if there was anything he needed.

“I’m fine thank you ma’am, although, would you be able to help me turn the news on in Dr. Y/L/N’s office?”

“Of course Sir.” she replied. “And please, Sonia is fine.

After a few minutes of silence with her setting up the TV for him he asked “Please don’t take this the wrong way. But why aren’t you acting more nervous? Not that I want you to or anything…just curious.” Sonia let out a light laugh.

“To be honest I kind of know of you a bit. I speak with Sam a lot and you’ve come up in conversations plenty of times seeing as how the both of you are in some type of love affair” She began to audibily laugh and then absentmindedly added “Plus I can’t the good Doc to shut up about you, so I sort of feel as if I know you already.” She continued to search for the right channel. Before he could stop himself he found himself asking

“Really? Y/N talks about me? What does she say?” All he heard was a distracted ‘hmm?’ in way of response.

“Excuse me, Sonia” He began again. “What does she say about me?”

“I’m sorry what?” Sonia turns her face in his direction with her eyes still glued on the screen. It was clear she was responsive but not present.

“Sonia?”

“Yes! Oh I’m so sorry! I always get confused by this TV.” She said landing on BBC and finally turning to give him her full attention. “What was your question again?”

“Y/N? What does she say about me?” He’d never thought it would be possible to see the color drain from a person with such a rich complexion but he was witnessing it.

“I don't think I said that, Captain”

“Oh yes you did. You said, and I quote ‘To be honest I kind of know of you a bit. I speak with Sam a lot and you’ve come up in conversations plenty of times seeing as how the both of you are in some type of love affair. Plus I can’t the good Doc to shut up about you, so I sort of feel as if I know you already’ Actually. By your words it seems as if she talks about me a lot. So, what does she say?” Sonia started backing out of Y/N’s office.

“ You know the usual…nothing unscrupulous…You know her, shes a sweetheart. Only good things and you can believe me about that” She answered nervously.

“Can’t you give me any specifics?” He turned the Captian America charm on 3000. Who was he becoming? Since when did he imagine doing sinful things to beautiful women and it was getting out of his control. Since when did he try to do anything possible to get closer to a woman ? Physically and otherwise? Since when did he draw the same subject over and over for God’s sake? He was a disciplined, responsible, respectable man. Who was Y/N turning him into? Even in the midst of this mental crisis he knew she wouldn't be able to refuse the Charm.

“ Nothing much. You’re really friendly and helpful, and brave because of your job and all that ya’know? And that you have a nice smile but your eyes. Good lord when she starts on your eyes I know to take a seat because we are gonna be here for a while.” She began to playfully mimick your accent “Oh my God Sonia, I’ve never seen eyes so blue” and then as if noticing she was spilling all the beans her hand shot up over her mouth. “You never heard that! You never even spoke to me! In fact I’m just the pretty lady with the beautiful accent to you!”

He couldn't help but laugh. And he was happy for it because before her little outburst he was feeling something that he was sure other people would deem as shy? Or was he blushing? He had no idea but he didn’t like the feeling one bit so laughter was a nice change of pace.

“Hey” He said grinning as he shot his hands up “ No one will ever get a word out of me.”

“Thank you” she breathed a sigh of relief “That would have been my ass.” With that she left him in the office. He had a little while to think to himself it didn't last long because he could see the profile of a man talking to Sonia out in the little reception and shortly he turned and walked into her office.

“Hello Sir, it’s such an honor to meet you. I’m Dr.Siriboe, I work in a different department than Dr. Y/L/N, but when Sonia told me you were here I couldn’t pass up the chance to meet you. Thank you for all your service and sacrifice. My grandfather fought in WW2 so I grew up hearing stories about the front line and I know the tax it takes on a person. Your hard work does not go unnoticed, Captain.” He smiled. Steve smiled back

“It’s good to meet you, Dr. Siriboe. I’m just a guy that decided to put on a uniform one day but you, decided to put on a white coat and save lives. That is an equally if not more taxing and hororable carrer so the pleasure is mine.” Simling widely Dr.Siriboe gave a small nod in way of accepting the comment and asked the captain to sit down with him.

“So” He began “You like 2k?”

“Love it!” Steve replied with a big smile.

“Wanna play? You know what matter of fact I can’t do that to you. I’m sure whopping your ass would be considered treason or something.”

“To be commit treason you would have to be in possession of some type of threat.” Looking around the office Steve continued “But I don't see anything threatening in here.”

“Ohhhh Cap’s got jokes!” Kofi said laughing with Steve. “But its not gonna be so funny when I decimate you in this game. Then Imma be the only one laughing.”

“Now son, If I go in on you it would be considered heroism in defense of our great nation” Steve snapped back laughing. “You don’t want these problems.”

“Son? Sir. Sir. Excuse me, sir. If I were to really get started by the time I was done witcha they’d arrest me on elder abuse and I’m liable to catch a case.”

Before he knew it they had been playing a game of madden for about 30 mintues and between the little conversation and a whole lot of shit talking he really took a liking to Kofi. He enjoyed his company and he was always looking for new friends that weren’t attached to S.H.E.L.D. in any way possible. He seemed down to earth, and a happy go lucky fellow. Obviously he was smart to be able to become a doctor so he had that going for him as well.

He seemed like the type of guy that would already had been Steve’s friend if they hadn’t just met, he had a friendly personality. Then he wondered why he had never heard of this man before. This is the type of man Y/N should hang around, not that Boner fellow. They seemed as if they would be good friends and he decided then, that he would introduce the two. As if she was a genie and manifested though her doors.

“Oh! Hey! Steve! You’re here!” She said looking winded.

“Yeah I am. I’ve been here for a little under an hour just chilling with-” turning behind him to gesture to Kofi “Dr. Siriboe. Dr. Siriboe officially meet Dr. Y/L/N, Dr. Y/L/N, meet Dr, Siriboe, he works in…well actually I didn't even get his department. I’m sorry what department do you work in? You never really mentioned it.”

“He’s in ortho” She said, cutting him off. Kofi and Y/N stared at each other for bursting out laughing leaving Steve uttlerly confused.

“Steve, this is the Bone man!” Steve felt something sour in the back of his throat. This? This was dR. bOnEr? THE dr. Boner? That she wouldn't ever leave out of important decisions? The one that helps her when she needs it and doesn't know who to call? This is the guy she was referring to as ‘sort of her work husband and sort of her husband husband?’

“Oh.” Was all he could manage. He was sure if he could see his own face in that moment it would look something like a 6month old who was constipated. He’d been on the couch fraternizing with the enemy?! Why would he be the enemy? Why would he even think of that? Why had he been internally monologuing this whole day? Again what the hell was she doing to him?

“Well” He began trying to recover “Are you ready to go home?”

“Oh! You came to give her a ride? I thought we were gonna split an uber and Rate the Pache as usual and maybe pick up some Thai?”

“Shut up about Rate the Pache boner! Damnit that's supposed to be between just me and you!” She whisper shouted. He couldn't help himself and asked.

“What’s rate the pache?” He asked turning to Kofi knowing you wouldn't give him an answer.

“Well,-” Kofi started

“Traitor!” She shouted and to be honest it startled Steve a little. He had never seen this playful and mischievous side to her before. He’d seen glimmers of it with Sam but never this full out and raw. He assumed it was because of their old friendship, but that didn't stop the little green monster coming to life within him. Who was he becoming?

Laughing Kofi continued “Rate the Pache is something we started doing back in med school. At the end of the day we get together and rate the patients we worked with on that day. Who would we bone, if there was no repercussions to our careers.” Looking over to you he saw your hands covering your face with what he thought was embarrassment. The practice was a little iffy admittedly, but he couldn't help thinking that she just looked so damn cute acting shy like that.

“Anyway!!!” She shouted and turned to him. “Steve, I just have to get a couple things done here iff you don't mind waiting like 20 minutes and then we can head home.”

“Sure, no problem” He said.

“Well, we can try to finish this game” Kofi said interrupting his train of thought.

“Ahh I didn't know you were open to public beat downs Kofi, lets do it!” Steve laughed.

After about 15 minutes of playing, she asked Sonia for a cup of tea and Sonia told her it would be ready in a few, however the next person to open her door was not Sona, but a man instead.

“Dr. Daniels” She started, “How nice of you to answer your page” looking at her watch “hmmm… 6 hours too late. People could have died.” The room went silent and everyone turned to look at the late doctor.

“Dr. Y/L/N, I’m terribly sorry. It started off with me trying to just have a meeting with some of the board members and then they refused to let me leave without playing a round. But I promise the meeting was worth while. I was able to get cardio 3 million dollars for research!” She let out a squeal.

“Really?! Damnit Daniels! I was really prepared to rip you a new one but I can’t be mad at this. This money will change so many lives and help preventative care so much. Thank you.” She ended quietly.

“Of course. Meanwhile I swung by my house and got you something.”

“Is it what I think it is?”

“Your blueberry tea leaves as requested. And I threw in some blueberry scones just as you like them. Try one now. I added something new and I want to know if you can taste a difference.”

Biting into one she moaned which was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. If he weren’t so busy being something in the neighborhood of jealous he might have actually started to feel aroused. Why the hell was she surrounded by all these…Men? Men who had eyes just like him to see how wonderful she was. Men who had dirtier minds than him imaging all sorts of things.

“Is this lemon glaze drizzled overtop?” She asked.

“Good pallete! I call them blueberry lemonade.” He replied.

“I mean this with all repect daniels, if things don't work out here in the hospital and I fire your ass for something you do to annoy me, you could definitely make it as a baker.”

That pulled a laugh for a quiet Kofi which made this Dr. Daniels aware of his presence as well as Steve’s as well as if he didn’t notice the both of them before.

“Kofi, what’s up man? Sorry I missed the pages.” Daniels said nodding to Kofi.

“Don't worry about it man. You know Y/N zoomed in to save the day as usual.” Turing to face Steve it was then he noticed who he was. Steve could always see the change in people when they recognized him. He noticed the Dr. stood up a little taller, and cleared his throat lightly. Oh, he was a fan.

“Hello, my name is Dr. Gerald Daniels, It’s a pleasure to meet you Captain America.”

“Nice to meet you Dr. Daniels, likewise.” Steve said giving a patented smile. “Congrats on your new research money by the way.”

“Thankyousomuch” Daniels rushed out. Then zipping back to her “Enjoy the tea and deserts. See you Monday. I’ll go round on the patients you had today, so you can get home.” With that he was out of the office and left a bouncing Y/N at her desk happy as could be.

After she finished her scone, Steve watched her walk out of her office and go talk to Sonia. He watched her throw her head back in laughter and couldn't help but imagine yanking her hair back and burying his face in her neck taking in her sweet smell. He wanted to bury something else in her too but then he heard Kofi aggressively clearing his throat.

“You like what you see?” He started.

“Sorry?” Steve decided to play stupid.

“ I mean any other day, I would let you be distracted and continue to score on you while you look in a completely oppsite direction just as I have in the last 2 mintues already scoring 3 times but...” He paused the game “ That’s Y/N. I’m protective over her.” He said seriously.

“I really don’t know what you think you-” Steve started but Kofi interrupted him.

“Listen man, I’m not blind. What are you trying to do with her? You know what? That’s none of my business. Whatever it is, make sure you’re clear about it and don't hurt her. Because at that point you’re gonna have more to worry about than aliens falling out of the sky.” With that he unpaused the game and continued to play as if nothing happened between them. Steve turned back to Y/N and Sonia to see Sonia walking out of the office and Y/N looking out the big window. All of a sudden she turned and looked directly at him and gave him a small smile that felt like an ember lighting a fire. It was a smile he returned.

“Alright people.” She started after walking back into her office. “I’m just about ready to go and Sonia’s gone for the day, apparently she has a date to get to.” She said wiggling her eyebrows and laughing. Kofi stood.

“Okay I just got a page myself, so I have to run.” He stretched his arm out to steve. “Nice to meet you man.” Kofi had that easy go lucky smile but his grip was telling another story. It said if you fuck this up I fuck you up. Steve didn’t know where he stood with Kofi. Thiking of him as boner he didn’t like him at all but getting to know him as Kofi he knew he was someone he could befriend plus him sticking up for Y/N like that really won him points in Steve’s book as much as he hated to admit it. He sorta liked the guy.

Turning to Y/N kissed her cheek and jogged out the door and she looked after him. What the hell was going on with those two? He couldn’t place his finger on it. Was she maybe into him? Before he could even think of the situation further. She sat on the couch next to him while putting her feet up on the table and let out a big sigh.

“So how was your day Steve?”

“Well” he began mentally scrambling. “ I finished those errands I told you about but I ended up at the Met as I usually do.”

“Usually? What do you do there usually?”

“I look through Picassos stuff, they’re permanently on display. Then I go through the current exhibits. I like looking at things from all over the world and from varying time periods. Sort off broadening my artistic palette if you will” He said with an easy smile.

“I’ve never been to the Met! It’s on my list of to-dos before I officially become a New Yorker.”

“Then I have to take you down there one of your free days. We can. Make a day of it. Remember, doing my civil duty and all.”

“Sounds good, I’ll let you know” She said quietly. Off course. She was back to her normal self now, trying to let him down easy. He didn't want to make her any more uncomfortable than she already was and suggested they go home.

She turned off her light in her office and her stomach let out a noise that demanded for attention and she let out a laugh.

“I’m a little hungry, can you tell?”

“Right!” Steve said snapping. “Kofi mentioned something about Pad Thai? I know the best Thai restaurant in all the boroughs.”

“I have to stop ya there chief. If it’s not New Saigon then you are sorely mistaken. Me and boner have been eating there since I used to visit him here in the city and lived back down south. He’s something of a foodie and I’m inclined to believe him.”

“Hey! I know something or two about food as well. I promise you you’ll like it.” He stared at her while she stared at him and the both of them had a silent battle of wills.

“Fine! But if I don't like this place, I get to choose where we eat from now on.” Now on? Does that imply that we’ll be doing this more often? Steve decided not to over think it and just live in the moment. He told her wait at the front of the hospital while he pulled the motorcycle around. He couldn't help but notice a pep in his step and it all began with him thinking of having her arms wrapped around him again. Pulling up to the hospital he saw he nervous face in view and let out a little laugh. She was the cutest. He handed her the helmet.

“Where are we going anyway?” She said taking the helmet from him.

“It’s this little hole in the wall called Jai-Yen.

“Jai-Yen” She repeated quietly. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“Well you have now.” Steve smiled. “Let’s get going.”

“Alright, take me on your devil machine” She said putting on the helmet. Steve laughed and shook his head. As soon as she was stable on the back of the bike they were off.

Taglist: @champagnesugamama@smooth-sunflower@queenwinchester27 @hamilboots @trees-are-friends

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theputterer · 5 years ago

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11/11 Writing Tag

tagged by my friend and hero @leaiorganas

Rules: Answer the 11 questions of the person who tagged you; make up 11 questions; tag 11 people to answer them.

1. What is the first fandom your read fanfic in?

like 99% sure it was Harry Potter

2. What current WIP are you reading that you are most excited for an update to?

I am generally Very Bad at reading fan fiction but I recently got into the Armistice series by Annerb and it’s awesome

3. What is your favourite trope to write about?

is established relationship a trope?? because I really like that. I like thinking of how relationships might grow and change and how people would take on unexpected challenges together.

4. What book are you currently reading?

THE MERE WIFE by Maria Dahvana Headley. it’s a modern retelling of BEOWULF, told in a dreamy, unique, and unsettling style, so I am unsurprisingly very into it

5. What streaming show are you currently obsessed with?

I don’t watch much TV but I recently started and finished FLEABAG and I highly recommend it

6. Do you have anyone beta or edit your work before posting?

LOL no. the closest would be my friend @anexitlike who is deeply supportive of my stuff, including the Nonsense, and who I would send GRAY AREAS to as I wrote to confirm it made sense. (I had a very real fear that it was not making sense, that I was forgetting things that had been established, that I was not returning to tie loose ends, etc.)

7. What is your favourite book to screen adaptation and why?

ANNIHILATION, all the way. terrifying, grief-stricken, raw, pure horror. it deviates from the book but still delivers the core of that story and works beautifully.

“It’s not like me. It’s not like me at all. I don’t know what it wants. I don’t know what it wants from me. I think it doesn’t want anything. It doesn’t care. It doesn’t feel anything. It’s more than death. Nothing of what we are will remain. It’s going to annihilate us. That’s what it is. That’s what’s waiting. It’s annihilation.”

but GONE GIRL was also incredible.

8. Is there a fandom you thought about writing fanfic in but never did?

X-Men! don’t @ me.

9. Post your favourite story you have ever written

I’m quite fond of all my fic but today I think I am feeling most AMOR FATI. but i did re-read YOU MUST REMEMBER THIS a few months back and it’s grown on me a lot

10. What is your favourite holiday and why?

any holiday where I don’t have to go to work is my favorite holiday. but my favorite holiday as in day of festivity is New Year’s Eve and Michelle, since you put a “u” in favorite, I will add that my favorite holiday as in vacation is a trip to Ireland I took with my family in 2007.

11. What is on your wishlist to write next?

I would very much love to finish INTERLUDES! I’ve started the final chapter and then like. fizzled out. but it’s not abandoned, never abandoned, just in stasis until I pull myself together.

I have also been working on like... a very strange hybrid story of at least three different fandoms. (ROGUE ONE centered, obviously). it’s a wild project that I have been enjoying and keeping close to my chest, and I am hoping I will get some experience in experimenting and also in creativity, and maybe even one day feel comfortable enough with to share.

Questions:

What is your favorite fandom to write for?

What is your most “hot take” of a headcanon?

Is there a trope you just can’t stand?

In what writing area or style would you most like to improve?

What’s an AU you’d like to write but haven’t, and why haven’t you written it?

Describe an OC you created for a fic in five sentences or less.

What is your best writing tip?

Name a writer who has influenced your writing style, and how.

Which character do you wish you wrote more about, and why don’t you?

How do you deal with writer’s block?

If you wrote a story that was a fusion of two separate fandoms, which would they be?

tagging these pals: @alecjmarsh, @fortysevenswrites, @callioope, @vaderkat, @gloriouswhisperstyphoon, @lisa-in-the-sky, @riderunlove, @literatiruinedme, @deadpanprincess, @semisweetshadow, @yavemiel

also if you are a fic writer and I didn’t tag you please do this!!! I am just very bad at remembering who is a writer and who is exclusively a reader.

#about me #writing #fanfiction #tag meme

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mandelene · 7 years ago

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Thank you to @feyna-v for tagging me!

Rules: tag 10 followers you want to know better

Name: Nice try. I’m not ready to tell the whole internet yet.

Gender: Female

Star sign: Aries

Height: 5′10 ft (1.778 m) Yup, I’m tall. I blame my Slavic dad.

Sexuality: Heterosexual

What images do you have as your desktop/phone wallpaper: For my desktop, I have the standard mountains at night picture that’s already programmed into my MacBook. For my phone, I have a pic of a street in London and some double-decker buses as my lock screen. My phone’s home screen is a pic of a bunch of red roses.

Have you ever had a crush on a teacher: All of my male teachers/professors have been old enough or almost old enough to be my father, so no.

Where do you see yourself in 10 years: I want to be writing, hopefully professionally, in either non-fiction (as a journalist) or fiction (as a novelist). If not, working for an NGO or doing something where I could be active in a community would be the next best thing. I also wouldn’t mind teaching if I had the opportunity -- I’d probably teach some kind of writing or political science class. I want to get married at some point and have kids (but that seems ages away, and I need to find my other half first, haha). I’d like to live outside of NYC, though preferably still in a city (just a smaller one).

Anywhere else right now, where would you be: Traveling some part of the world. I want to go to as many places as possible before I become an actual adult with a family to take care of and lots of responsibilities.

What was your coolest Halloween costume: I had a pretty awesome pirate costume one year in middle school (though it was a historically inaccurate costume because there weren’t many female pirates back in those days, haha). I had a big Pirates of the Carribean phase at about the age of 12 and wanted to be Keira Knightley’s character from the movies.

What was your favourite 90’s show: I’ll ignore that there was a “u” in favorite, but I just want everyone to know I’ve been triggered. I was just a tiny thing in the 90s, but according to my mom, my favorite kids TV shows were Rugrats, Powerpuff Girls, Pokemon, Dragon Tales, Blue’s Clues, and Arthur (which has the best theme song ever -- ♪ HEY, WHAT A WONDERFUL KIND OF DAY! ♪ ). Wasn’t a big fan of Teletubbies, Barney, or Caillou, but I watched them anyway. I also watched a lot of the shows that my older sister watched like All That and The Amanda Show, but again, I was really young, so I didn’t appreciate it that much because I didn’t always understand everything. I think my absolute favorite show though was either Dragon Tales or Arthur.

Who was your last kiss: My cat (Macchiato). Kissed him on the head this morning. Have you ever been stood up: Yes, and at senior prom nonetheless. (My date showed up with another girl). We were supposed to go as friends, but he avoided me the whole night. I found out later that he was with some other girl when the pics started popping up on Facebook. He was the president of student government, so everyone knew him, which meant everyone was talking about it the next day. I still had a great time at prom though because my two amazing friends (whom I’m still very close with), danced with me and made sure I had fun. My parents were furious and my dad threatened to confront him (because that’s what dads do), but I told him it wasn’t worth it. In the end, it was actually my teacher that confronted the guy. He somehow found out about what happened (because gossip spreads like wildfire in high school). The boy was in one of his other classes, so he pulled him aside, lectured him, and made him apologize to me (apology not accepted though, lol). Then, my teacher told me how he got stood up at prom, too, and made me feel a lot better about the whole thing. It was really sweet of him. I’m still Facebook friends with that teacher now, haha. No one was allowed to mess with me when he was around because I was his top student. :D He also told off a girl who was always bullying me. Thanks, Mr. S. :)

Have you ever been to Las Vegas: Nope.

Favourite pair of shoes: My black and orange Nike sneakers. They’re super comfortable.

Favourite fruit: Red apples

Favourite books: Anything written by George Orwell (Animal Farm, 1984, and Down and Out in Paris and London). My favorite book of all time, however, is To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. I also love Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck, Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes, Brave New World by Aldous Huxley, The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky, and The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros.

Stupidest thing you have ever done: Some of you probably already know this, but I fell down the stairs in my apartment building when I was 19, hahaha. It was winter and the stairs were slippery because they were wet with melting ice and snow. And when I say “fell down the stairs,” I mean I slid on my butt down an entire staircase (15 steps). I was home alone because my parents were out grocery shopping at Costco, and I intended to go out to get some dinner because they weren’t going to be back for a while, and well, that obviously didn’t work out so great. I got some x-rays at my mom’s hospital and, fortunately, found out didn’t break any bones -- just had a lot of bruises and a wounded pride.

I haven’t done anything stupid in terms of purposefully doing something reckless or being under the influence. I’m pretty boring and a goodie-two-shoes. I’m also very guarded, so I don’t let myself get put in those types of situations. Most of the dumb things I’ve done have been the result of my clumsiness or my inability to take care of myself. For example, I hid the fact that I wasn’t taking my asthma meds when I was 13 from my parents. Advair was making me lose my voice, and I felt humiliated in school because I always sounded like I had a sore throat, so I just stopped taking it. I started needing my rescue inhaler at least twice a day (which I also hid from my parents). Plus, I really hated my pulmonologist, so I didn’t want to do anything he told me to do because he was honestly a complete dick and had no idea how to talk to kids. Long story short, the next time I got a cold, my lungs couldn’t handle it. I developed pneumonia, ended up in the ICU for a week, and very nearly died. Definitely not smart. Fortunately, I had a great team of doctors treating me, and I’ll be indebted to them for the rest of my life. I learned my lesson and take my health much more seriously now (and I have a way better pulmonologist who is brilliant and I like a lot more. He’s actually one of the doctors who took care of me during that time, and I’ve been going to him ever since. That’s why it’s incredibly important to find a healthcare team that’s right for you). I tag anyone reading this who wants to do it because I don’t want to keep bugging my followers, haha. If you guys end up doing it, let me know! :)

#tagged #tag game #learn a little more about me maybe #though there's nothing that fascinating to know haha

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lodelss · 4 years ago

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Laurie Penny | Longreads | June 2020 | 21 minutes (5,360 words)

“I am strongly in favour of using poisoned gas against uncivilised tribes.” — Winston Churchill, unpublished memorandum

“Will Mockney for food.” — Alan Moore, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, vol. III

This is a story about a border war. Specifically, a border war between two nations that happen, at least in theory, to be precisely the same place. One of them is Britain, a small, soggy island whose power on the world stage is declining, where poverty, inequality, and disaster nationalism are rising, where the government has mangled its response to a global pandemic so badly that it’s making some of us nostalgic for the days when all we did was panic about Brexit. The other is “Britain!” — a magical land of round tables and boy wizards and enchanted swords and moral decency, where the sun never sets on an Empire run by gentlemen, where witty people wear frocks and top hats and decide the fate of nations over tea and biscuits.

One is a real place. The other is a fascinatingly dishonest, selective statement of fact, rather like describing how beautiful the countryside was in the antebellum American South. A truth so incomplete it’s worse than a lie.

Every nation-state is ninety percent fictional; there’s always a gap between the imaginary countries united by cultural coherence and collective destinies where most of us believe we live, and the actual countries where we’re born and eat breakfast and file taxes and die. The U.K. is unique among modern states in that we not only buy our own hype, we also sell it overseas at a markup. “Britain always felt like the land where all the stories came from,” an American writer friend told me when I asked why she so often sets her novels in Britain. Over and over, writers and readers of every background — but particularly Americans — tell me that the U.K. has a unique hold on their imaginations.

That hold is highly profitable. Britain was kept out of recession last year by one industry: entertainment. Over the past four years, the motion picture, television, and music industries have grown by almost 50 percent — the service sector, only by 6. So many shows are currently filmed in England that productions struggle to book studio space, and even the new soundstages announced by London Mayor Sadiq Khan in 2018 will be hard-pressed to keep up with demand. As historian Dan Snow pointed out, “[O]ur future prosperity is dependent on turning ourselves into a giant theme park of Queens, detectives, spies, castles, and young wizards.”

There is hope: the statues are coming down all over Britain, starting in Bristol on June 7, 2020. Black Lives Matter protesters pulled down a monument to slave trader Edward Colston, who is remembered for how he lavished his wealth on the port city and not for the murder of 19,000 men, women and children during the Middle Passage. Colston’s statue was thrown into Bristol Harbor, where it remains. In Oxford, students demanded the removal of monuments to Cecil Rhodes, the business magnate and “architect of apartheid” who stole vast tracts of Africa driven by his conviction in the supremacy of Anglo-Saxons. In Parliament Square, fences have been erected to protect Winston Churchill himself, the colonial administrator and war leader whose devoted acolytes include both Boris Johnson and Donald Trump. Young Britons are demanding a reckoning with a history of colonial conquest, slave-trading, industrial savagery, and utter refusal to examine its own legacy.

Meanwhile, the economic disaster of a no-deal Brexit is still looming and Britain has the highest COVID-19 death toll in Europe, putting further pressure on an already-struggling National Health Service. Under Boris Johnson’s catastrophic leadership, or lack thereof, there are no signs of changing tactics on either. Fantasy Britain is having a boomtime. Real Britain is in deep, deep trouble.

* * *

I was homesick. That’s my excuse. I had been in Los Angeles for six months, writing for TV shows set in England. I woke up every day 5,000 miles from home, in a city of sweltering tarmac and traffic jams and palm trees, to try and explain how British people speak and think. I fell asleep every night to the radio from home, listening to the logic of xenophobia capture the political mainstream as my country circled the drain. I watched my British friends who are Black or brown or who were born overseas trying to stay brave and hopeful as racism became more and more normalized. I was homesick, and people do silly things when they’re homesick.

So yes, I went to see the Downton Abbey movie.

Specifically, I went to the Downton Abbey Experience, a special screening where you could spend a few hours in a mocked-up Edwardian drawing room, nibbling on tiny food and pretending to be posh. I was expecting it to be rubbish, forgetting that this was Los Angeles, where talented actors and set dressers can be had on every street corner. I couldn’t help but be a bit charmed by the commitment: the food was terrible, but two of the waiters had concocted an elaborate professional-rivalry backstory, and the accent-work was almost flawless. It really did feel as if you’d stepped, if not into Downton itself, then certainly onto the show’s set. And I finally understood. The way Americans feel about this is the way I feel about Star Trek and schlocky space opera. This is their escape from reality. This is their fandom. Not just Downton Abbey — “Britain.”

I do try to resist the temptation to make fun of other people who take uncomplicated joy in their thing. The British do this a lot, and it’s one of the least edifying parts of the national character. Fandom is fine. Escapism is allowed. No semi-sensitive soul can be expected to live in the real world at all times. But watching the whitewashed, revisionist history of your own country adopted as someone else’s fantasy of choice is actively uncomfortable. It’s like sitting by while a decrepit relative gibbers some antediluvian nonsense about the good old days and watching in horror as everyone applauds and says how charming.

I decided not to be charmed and sulked on an ornamental sofa, angrily eating a chocolate bonbon and resenting everyone else for having fun. This was where I met the only other British person in the room, a nice lady from Buckinghamshire in a fancy dress. What did my new friend think of the event? “I don’t like to complain,” she said, “but I’m sitting here in a ballgown eating bloody bread and jam. Honestly, it’s not worth the money.”

Which was the second-most-British thing anyone said all evening. The most British thing of all had been uttered half an hour earlier, by me, when it dawned on my friend and me that we really should have worn costumes. “It’ll be alright,” I said, “I’ll just take my accent up a bit posher and everyone will be pleased to see us.” Living in a place where all you have to do is say something in your normal accent to be told you’re clever and wonderful is all very well, until you start believing it. This is as true in politics as anywhere else: just showing up and being relentlessly British at people does not constitute sociopolitical strategy. It doesn’t even constitute a personality. I know that there are a lot of British expats who will be cross with me for giving the game away, and chaps, I really am so terribly, terribly sorry. But you and I both know that someday we’ll have to go home, and people won’t automatically be pleased to see us just because we said some words.

This is as true in politics as anywhere else: just showing up and being relentlessly British at people does not constitute sociopolitical strategy.

I write for TV shows set in Britain, or a fantasy version of it, and American Anglophilia is endlessly fascinating to me, as it is to most British expats. It comes in a few different flavourways (ed.: Normally we’d edit this to the u-less American spelling, but in this particular case it seemed appropriate to let it go). There’s the saccharine faux-nostalgia of Downton fans, the ones who love The Crown and afternoon tea and the actual monarchy. They tend to be more socially conservative, more likely to vaporize into angry drifts of snowflakery at the mere suggestion that there might have been brown people in the trenches of the First World War. But there is also a rich seam of Anglophilia among people who are generally suspicious of nationalism, and television is to blame for most of it. The idea of Britain that many Americans grew up with was Monty Python, Doctor Who, and Blackadder; today it’s Downton, Sherlock, Good Omens, and The Great British Worried-People-Making-Cakes-in-a-Tent Show. And of course, Lord of the Rings and Game of Thrones, which technically take place in Middle-earth and Westeros but, in practice, are set in the version of medieval Britain where all epic fantasy tends to settle — in days of olde when knights were bold and brown people didn’t get speaking roles but dragons were fine.

(No British expat can honestly criticize a franchise like Downton for taking advantage of the North American fascination with Englishness, not unless we can say we’ve never taken advantage of it ourselves. Occasionally we catch one another at it, and it’s deeply embarrassing. Not long ago, waiting for coffee in the morning, I listened aghast as an extremely pretty American lady with her arm around an averagely-attractive Englishman explained that their dog was called something not unlike Sir Humphrey Woofington-Growler. “Because he’s British — my boyfriend, I mean.” Said British boyfriend’s eyes were pinned on the middle distance in the full excruciating knowledge that if he’d given a dog a name like that at home, he’d have got a smack, which would have upset the dog.)

Lavish Britscapist vehicles like Downton Abbey, The Crown, and Belgravia are more popular with Americans than they are at home. Trudging through Finsbury Park in London on a cold morning last Christmas, a poster advertising The Crown had been gleefully tagged “royalist propaganda” by some local hero with a spray can. My American friends were confused when I explained this to them. “Don’t you like your royal family?” They asked. No, I explained. We like Hamilton. The stories we export lay bare the failing heart of Britain’s sense of itself in the world — the assumption that all we have to do, individually or collectively, is show up with a charming accent and say something quaint and doors will open for us, as will wallets, legs, and negotiations for favorable trade deals.

This is a scam that works really well right up until it doesn’t.

* * *

It was irritatingly difficult to remain uncharmed by the Downton Abbey movie. I found myself unable to work up a sweat over whether there would be enough lawn chairs for the royal parade, but I rather enjoyed the bit where the Downton house staff, snubbed by the royal servants, decided to respond with kidnapping, poisoning, and fraud. There was also a snide rivalry between butlers, a countess with a secret love child, a disputed inheritance, an attempted royal assassination, a perilous tryst between closeted valets, a princess in an unhappy marriage, and Maggie Smith. It was disgustingly pleasant right up until its shameless closing sequence, where fussy butler Mr. Carson and his sensible housekeeper wife had a conversation about whether the Abbey would last into the next century. Yes, said Mr. Carson, sending us off into the night with the promise that “a hundred years from now, Downton will still be standing.”

And there it is. It’s not a good or noble or even an original lie, but it’s at least told with flair. As the British Empire went ungently into its good night offscreen last century, many great English houses were repurposed, sold, or demolished in part so that families did not have to pay inheritance tax on the properties. Highclere Castle — the estate where Downton Abbey was filmed — is an exception and remains under the stewardship of the Earls of Carnavron, who live on the estate. They can afford to do this because a lucrative show about a lost and largely fictional age of aristocratic gentility happened to be filmed on the grounds. Let me repeat that: the only way the actual Downton Abbey can continue to exist is by renting itself out as a setting for fantasies of a softer world. Which is, in microcosm, the current excuse for a government’s entire plan for a post-Brexit economy. With nowhere left to colonize, we gleefully strip our own history for the shiniest trinkets to sell. The past is a different country, so we’re allowed to invade it, take its stuff and lie relentlessly about the people who actually live there.

It’s not a good or noble or even an original lie, but it’s at least told with flair.

The uncomfortable truth is that America doesn’t love Britain the way we want to be loved. That white-innocence fantasy of rolling lawns and ripped bodices is only palatable (and profitable) because Britain doesn’t have much actual power anymore. Our eccentricities would be far less adorable if we still owned you. If we were still a military-industrial juggernaut on the scale of Russia or China, if we were still really an imperial power rather than just cosplaying as one for cash, would the rest of the world be importing our high-fructose cultural capital in such sugary sackloads?

I don’t think so — and nor does Britain’s current government, the most nationalist and least patriotic in living memory, which has no compunction about turning the country into a laundry for international capital and flogging our major assets to foreign powers. American businesses already have their eyes on the National Health Service, which will inevitably be on the table in those trade deals a post-Brexit British economy desperately needs. In one of its first acts in power, the Johnson administration shoved through a controversial arms deal selling a major defense company to a private American firm, which is somehow not seen as unpatriotic.

This summer, Black Lives Matter protests are boiling around a nation that has never reexamined its imperial legacy because it is convinced it is the protagonist of world history. Conversation around what “British” means remains vaguely distasteful. “Culturally our stories are of plucky underdogs,” historian Snow told me. “But actually our national story was of massive expenditure on the world’s most complex weapon systems and smashing the shit out of less fiscally and technological societies.”

“Nations themselves are narrations,” wrote Edward Said, pioneer of postcolonial studies. Britain’s literary self-mythologizing spans several centuries. During the Raj, teaching English literature to the Indian middle and ruling classes was central to the strategy for enforcing the idea of Britain as morally superior. The image of Britain that persists in the collective global unconsciousness was founded deliberately to make sense of the empire and romanticize it for ordinary British citizens, most of whom had neither a complete understanding of the atrocities nor the voting rights that would make their opinion relevant. Britain wrote and rewrote itself as the protagonist of its own legends, making its barbarism bearable and its cultural dominance natural.

Bad things happen to people who have never heard a story they weren’t the hero of. I try not to be the sort of person who flashes the word “hegemony” around too much, but that’s what this is and always has been: a way of imposing cultural norms long after we, as my history books delicately put it, “lost” the British Empire. The stories are all we have left to make us feel important.

The plain truth is that Britain had, until quite recently, the largest and most powerful empire the world had ever known. We don’t have it anymore, and we miss it. Of course we miss it. It made us rich, it made us important, and all the ugly violent parts happened terribly far away and could be ignored with a little rewriting of our history. It continues to this day with tactful omissions from the school syllabus — in 2010, Education Secretary Michael Gove, later one of the chief architects of Brexit, pushed to teach British children a version of the “exciting and appealing” Imperial history that cast their country as heroic. According to one 2016 study, 43 percent of the British public think the Empire “was a good thing.” For most British people, the Empire came to us in pieces, in jingoistic legends and boys’ adventure stories with as many exclamation points as could be crammed on one book cover. The impression I was given as a schoolgirl was that we were jolly decent to let the Empire go, and that we did so because it was all of a sudden pointed out that owning other countries wholesale was a beastly thing to do — of course old boy, you must have your human rights! Really, we were only holding on to them for you.

The last time Britain truly got to think of itself as heroic on the world stage was during the Second World War. The narrative with the most tenacity is the “Blitz Spirit” — of a plucky little island standing firm against impossible odds, pulling together while hell rained down from above, growing victory gardens and sheltering in the stations of the London Underground. Those black-and-white photographs of brave-faced families wrapped in blankets on the train platforms are instantly recognizable: this is who we are as a country. Most Britons don’t know that soldiers from the colonies fought and died on the frontlines in France. Even fewer are aware of the famine that struck India at around the same time, leaving a million dead, or of Britain’s refusal to offer aid, continuing instead to divert supplies to feed the British army as the people of India starved.

What all of this is about, ultimately, is white innocence. That’s the grand narrative that so many of our greatest writers were recruited to burnish, willingly or not. White innocence makes a delicious story, and none of its beneficiaries wants to hear about how that particular sausage gets made.

* * *

Many of the biggest narrative brands of Britain’s fretful post-colonial age are stories of a nation coming to terms with the new and eroding nature of its own power, from James Bond (a story about a slick misogynist hired by the state to kill people) to Doctor Who (which I will defend to the death, but which is very much about the intergalactic importance of cultural capital). We are a nation in decline on the international stage; that’s what happens when a small island ceases to own a third of the earth. Rather than accepting this with any semblance of grace, we have thrown a tantrum that has made us the laughing stock of world politics, the sort of tantrum that only spoiled children and ham-faced, election-stealing oligarchs are allowed to get away with.

In this climate, the more pragmatic among us are seeing that what we actually have to offer the rest of the world boils down to escapism. Fantasy Britain offers an escape for everyone after a hard day under the wheel of late-stage capitalism.

There’s no actual escape, of course. Good luck if you’re a refugee. Since 2012, the conservative government has actively cultivated a�� “hostile environment” scheme to make life as difficult as possible for immigrants, highlights of which include fast-tracking deportations and vans driving a massive billboard reading “GO HOME OR FACE ARREST” around the most diverse boroughs in London. Seriously. If you want to escape to actual Britain you need at least two million pounds, which is how much it costs for an Investor Visa. Non-millionaires with the wrong documents can and will be put on a plane in handcuffs, even if they’ve lived and worked in Britain for 50 years — like the senior citizens of the Windrush generation who came to Britain from the West Indies as children with their families to help rebuild the nation after the Second World War. In the past five years, hundreds of elderly men and women, many of them unaware they were not legal citizens, have been forcibly deported from Britain to the Caribbean. The subsequent public outcry did almost zero damage to the government’s brand. In 2019, Johnson’s Conservatives won a landslide victory.

“Take your country back.” That was the slogan that Brexit campaigners chose in 2016. Take it back from whom? To where? It was clear that the fictional past that many Brexit nostalgists wanted to reclaim was something not unlike the syrupy storylines of Downton Abbey — quiet, orderly, and mostly white. But to make that story work, British conservatives needed to cast themselves as the plucky underdogs, which is how you get a Brexit Party representative to the European Parliament comparing Brexit to the resistance of “slaves against their owners” and “colonies … against their empires,” or Boris Johnson bloviating in 2018 about Britain’s “colony status” in the EU (although he also believes that it would be good if Britain was still “in charge” of Africa).

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What really won the day, though, was the lie that leaving the EU would leave us with 350 million pounds per week “to spend on the NHS.” Boris Johnson rode up and down the nation on a big red bus emblazoned with that empty promise. The British people may not trust our politicians, but we trust our National Health Service — almost all of us, from across the sociopolitical spectrum, apart from some fringe internet libertarians and diehard neoliberal wingnuts, most of whom, unfortunately, are in power (though they couldn’t get there without promising to protect the NHS).

After the COVID-19 lockdowns end, Brexit is still happening. The actual changes don’t come into effect until 2021, and Boris Johnson, whose empty personal brand is forever yoked to this epic national self-harm project, is clearly hoping to sneak in a bad Brexit deal while the country is still reeling from a global pandemic. Leaving the EU will not make Britain rich again. It will not make us an imperial power again. In fact, the other nations of Europe are now taking the opportunity to reclaim some of the things we borrowed along the way. Greece wants the Parthenon Marbles back, more than two centuries after a British tourist visited Athens and liked them so much he decided to pry them off and ship them home. Spain has made noise that it wants Gibraltar back, and we’ll probably have to give it to them. So far, the only way in which Britain is returning to its days of High Victorian glory is in the sudden re-emergence, in communities ravaged by austerity, of 19th-century diseases of poverty, and now of the highest rates of COVID-19 infection in Europe, after Johnson’s government pursued a disastrous “herd immunity” strategy that transparently invited the elderly and infirm to sacrifice themselves for the stock market. British kids are not growing up with a sense of national heroism; they are growing up with rickets and scurvy. As a great poet from the colonies once wrote, it’s like 10,000 spoons when all you need is for the sneering Eton thugs you inexplicably elected to stop stabbing you in the back.

As it happens, I want my country back, too. I have spent enough time baking under the pitiless California sunshine. I have been to Hot Topic. I’m stuck in the States until the lockdowns end, but want to go back to the soggy, self-deprecating country I grew up in, the country of tolerance and diversity and kind people quietly getting on with things, the land of radio sketch comedy, jacket potatoes, decent bands, and basic decency.

I know that that country, too, is imaginary; just as imaginary as any of the “Rule Britannia” flag-waggery. I don’t believe that Britain is Great in anything but name, but I do believe it can be better. I do not care to be told that I am any less of a patriot because I choose to know my country, or because I can imagine a future where we do more than freeze in the haunted house of our past glories, stuffed with stolen treasures and trapdoors we never open. It’s where I’m from, where my family and friends live, and where I hope to grow old and die. It worries me that we have not even begun to develop the tools to cope with our material reality, one in which we are a rather small rainy island half of whose population currently hates the other.

* * *

Since we’re all talking about myths and revisionist history and the Blitz Spirit, here’s something else that never makes it into the official story.

Those working-class Londoners sheltering in tube stations during World War II? They weren’t supposed to be there. In fact, the British government of the late 1930s built far too few municipal shelters, preferring to leave that to private companies, local government councils, and individuals and when the first bombs first fell, the hardest hit areas were poor, immigrant, and working-class communities in the East End with nowhere to go. Elite clubs and hotels dug out their own bomb shelters, but the London Underground was barricaded. On the second night of the Blitz, with the flimsy, unhygienic East End shelters overflowing, hundreds of people entered the Liverpool Street Station and refused to leave. By the time the government officially changed its position and “allowed” working-class Londoners to take shelter down among the trains, thousands were already doing so — 177,000 people at its most packed.

Eventually it was adopted into the propaganda effort and became part of the official mythos of the Blitz, but the official story leaves out the struggle. It leaves out the part about desperate people, abandoned by their government, in fear of their lives, doing what they had to — and what should have been done from the start — to take care of each other.

This failure is the closest thing to the staggering lack of leadership that Britain, like America, has displayed during the weeks and months of the coronavirus crisis. As I write, more than 42,000 British citizens have died, many in our struggling NHS hospitals and countless more in care homes. On the same January day that the Brexit treaty was signed, Boris Johnson missed the first emergency meeting of COBRA, the government’s effort to determine a response to rumors of a new and horrifying pandemic. Johnson went on to miss four subsequent meetings, choosing instead to go on holiday with his fiancée to celebrate Brexit as a personal win. As vital weeks were squandered and the infection reached British shores, it emerged that the country was singularly underprepared. Stocks of protective equipment had been massively depleted because, with everyone’s attention on Brexit, nobody had bothered to consider that we might have to deal with a crisis not of our own making. Worse still, the National Health Service was chronically underfunded and hemorrhaging staff, as migrant doctors, nurses, and medical professionals from EU countries fled a failing institution in a hostile culture. In the years following the Brexit referendum, over 10,000 European medical staff have reportedly left the NHS.

Over 10 years of wildly unnecessary cuts to public services, successive Tory governments deliberately invoked the Blitz Spirit, promoting their economic reforms with the unfortunate slogan “we’re all in this together” — as if austerity were an external enemy rather than a deliberate and disastrous choice imposed on the working poor by politicians who have never known the price of a pint of milk or the value of public education. Today, it is perhaps a signal of the intellectual drought in British politics that the slogan “We’re all in this together” has been recycled to flog the COVID-19 lockdowns.

Their other slogan — plastered resentfully on podiums after a decade of decimating the health service — is “Protect the NHS.” The National Health Service is perhaps the last thing that truly unites every fractured shard of the British political psyche, and the Tories hate that, but 10 years of gutting hospitals, scrapping social care schemes, and blaming it all on the very immigrants who come from overseas to care for us when we are sick has not made the British love socialized medicine any less. Every Thursday night across Britain, since the lockdowns began, the whole country comes out to applaud the healthcare workers who are risking their lives every day to fight on the front lines of the pandemic. The mumbling rent-a-toffs the Tories shove up on stage to explain the latest hopelessly ineffectual lockdown strategy have no choice but to clap along. Because, as the murals mushrooming up around the country attest, the best stories Britain tells about itself have never been about Queen and Country and Glory — they’ve always been the ones where the broke, brave, messed-up millions of ordinary people who live here pull together, help each other, and behave with basic human decency.

* * *

I’m not arguing for us all to stop telling stories about Britain. For one thing, people aren’t going to stop, and for another, stories by and about British people are currently keeping my friends employed, my rent paid, and my home country from sliding into recession. And there are plenty that are still worth telling: if you want to shove your nose against the shop window of everything actually good about British culture, watch The Great British Bake-off. If you like your escapism with a slice of sex and cursing and corsets, and why wouldn’t you, curl up with the criminally underrated Harlots, which does an excellent job of portraying an actually diverse London and also has Liv Tyler as a trembly lesbian heiress in a silly wig. And if you want to watch a twee, transporting period drama with decent politics, I cannot more heartily recommend Call the Midwife, which also features biscuit-eating nuns and an appropriate amount of propaganda about how the National Health Service is the best thing about Britain.

I was supposed to be home by now. Instead, I’m in quarantine in California, watching my home country implode into proto-oligarchic incoherence in the middle of a global pandemic and worrying about my friends and loved ones in London. Meanwhile, my American friends are detoxing from the rolling panic-attack of the news by rewatching Downton Abbey, The Crown, and Belgravia. The British film industry is already gearing up to reopen, and the country will need to lean on its cultural capital more than ever.

But there is a narrative chasm between the twee and borderless dreamscape of fantasy Britain and actual, material Britain, where rents are rising and racists are running brave. The chasm is wide, and a lot of people are falling into it. The omnishambles of British politics is what happens when you get scared and mean and retreat into the fairytales you tell about yourself. When you can no longer live within your own contradictions. When you want to hold on to the belief that Britain is the land of Jane Austen and John Lennon and Sir Winston Churchill, the war hero who has been repeatedly voted the greatest Englishman of all time. When you want to forget that Britain is also the land of Cecil Rhodes and Oswald Moseley and Sir Winston Churchill, the brutal colonial administrator who sanctioned the building of the first concentration camps and condemned millions of Indians to death by starvation. These are not contradictions, even though the drive to separate them is cracking the country apart. If you love your country and don’t own its difficulties and its violence, you don’t actually love your country. You’re just catcalling it as it goes by.

There is a country of the imagination called Britain where there will never be borders, where down the dark lane, behind a door in the wall, David Bowie drinks gin with Elizabeth Tudor and Doctor Who trades quips with Oscar Wilde and there are always hot crumpets for tea. This idea of Englishness is lovely, and soothing, and it makes sense, and we have to be done with it now. If Britain is going to remain the world’s collective imaginative sandbox, we can do better than this calcified refusal to cope with the contradictions of the past. We can liberate the territory of the imagination. We can remember what is actually good about Britain — which has always been different from what was “great.”

* * *

Laurie Penny is an award-winning journalist, essayist, public speaker, writer, activist, internet nanocelebrity and author of six books. Her most recent book, Bitch Doctrine, was published by Bloomsbury in 2017.

Editor: Michelle Weber Fact checker: Matt Giles Copyeditor: Ben Huberman

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fleshofmensis · 2 months ago

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i love the red haired harlot 😇

ooooohh radagon when i get my hands on you

AND ARTORIAS. LIKE UHHH? HELLO?

i'm gonna stop being fruity for fictional men now, thank you 🙇‍♂️

#elden ring #radagon of the golden order #fromsoftware #elden ring radagon #fictional men on my tv screen how i love u #knight artorias #artorias the abysswalker #dark souls 3 #ds3 artorias of the abyss

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cherryonigiri · 4 years ago

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Okay so could you write a headcanon where 2 random boys (can you pick then? I love all of boys from hq) and Ushi-kun where they walk on their gfs fangirling or thirsting over another anime/game character?And she was talking how hot he is? How they would react?👀😂 have a great day/night and dont forget to eat and get rest, love you💕

Content warning: implied nsfw for Atsumu + slight nsfw hcs for Matsukawa (Matukawa’s hcs are below the cut - UPDATE TUMBLR IS NOT LETTING ME PUT THE CUT WHERE I WANT IT SO JUST LETTING YOU KNOW THAT THERE IS IMPLIED/SLIGHT NSFW FOR THE LAST 2 CHARACTERS