#if i have identity issues and YOU have identity issues... who's steering the relationship?? its still armand but at least they can pretend | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

anneapocalypse · 6 months ago

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#interesting #tho i think that Leliana's problem as a whole and why she's 'hard to read' and has this appearing contradicting story is because #Leliana doesn't know who she is#not in a - 'she's finding herself' narrative but more in a 'Leliana has internalised the We Wear Masks part of Orlais too deeply' #she twists and turns according to the situation to fit the mold people expect of her - or that she tries to expect of herself #and she's lost herself so deeply that in DAO DA2 and even DAI - it's not the 'real' her and I don't even think she knows who she really is #because she's lost herself trying to fit the masks. She's absorbed them so fully and does it so often that there is no real her anymore imo #its why she's so lost without having anyone to guide her or being 'above' her #she's what the Marjolaine wants her to be#she's what the Warden wants her to be #she's what Justinia what's her to be #and then she's what she thinks the world needs - no thoughts about its actual impact #i think she's forgotten an essential part of Orlesian culture that Vivienne tells us - there IS supposed to be a real you beneath the mask#when you take the mask off you ARE the real you - not whatever construct you've invented. #Leliana has been so absorbed into her masks - likely in part because Marjo demanded it of her - that she has no real center anymore imo #I think that's why Leliana and Vivienne - though cordial - appear to be on opposite specters #Vivienne has always known who she is even beneath all her masks while Leliana doesn't and simply jumps from mask to mask #it's also why Leliana and Morrigan clash - because Morrigan and Viviene while also on opposite specters have more in common than they'd lik #i honestly think the issue is the same #they are well defined and unmovable no matter what trappings they wear while Leliana only has the dress#to be clear - that is not a bad thing; its very interesting imo #Leliana becoming Divine completes her arc and she becomes the robes of the religion she wishes was so different than it actually is#once again finding purpose in becoming the personification of a construct she has envisioned#either way interesting thoughts#dragon age

@riddleredcoats Sorry to pull this out of the tags but I had to say that I agree with this assessment wholeheartedly! Leliana does not know who she is. She doesn't know in Origins, and she still doesn't know in Inquisition, which is why her personality is still able to be swayed one way or the other by the person leading her despite her not really having the close relationship with the Inquisitor that she can have with the Warden.

This is why, in looking at her rather two-faced behavior toward Morrigan, I don't take either of those faces to be the "true" Leliana necessarily. Or rather in a sense they're both true. The Leliana who calls Morrigan a vile fiend is both as authentic and as inauthentic as the Leliana who wants to convert Morrigan to faith in the Maker and also dress her in velvet and admire her "features."

And a big yes to Morrigan and Vivienne in contrast both having a very strong sense of self that is not easily swayed by others.

This is why I think that a lot of the differences between Origins!Leliana and Inquisition!Leliana are superficial, and can be deceptive. She has not gone on a journey of self-discovery. Even her faith is malleable to her present situation and who she is presently allowing herself to be influenced by. She's still struggling with the same centerlessness and lack of identity after ten years. It's the real tragedy of her character, imo, regardless of how the Inquisitor steers her post-Inquisition.

I cannot help feeling like the tendency to see Inquisition!Leliana in stark contrast to Origins!Leliana has led to some people forgetting what... Leliana is actually like in Origins.

In fairness, as in all Dragon Age games some very revealing character moments happen in party banter which makes it easy to miss. But the gentle-hearted mystic who desires only to draw others unto the love of the Maker has never been all that Leliana is, and it's always been in direct conflict with the side of her that is not only adept at intrigue and yes, violence, but enjoys those things. This is the central conflict of her whole character, and it's not a trivial conflict, because there is not one simple answer to who Leliana truly is. She is both of these things. She is deeply religious and finds comfort in her faith, and thinks it should bring comfort to others as well. She's also prone to gossip and pettiness and all the qualities that helped her thrive as a bard.

There's this one particularly revealing piece of banter with Alistair if the Warden is in a romance with Morrigan:

Alistair: So have you heard? Morrigan and him are... you know. Leliana: Have you nothing better to do than to spread idle gossip? And besides, he can probably hear us both. You're not being very discreet. Alistair: No, look, he's not even paying attention. Leliana: Hmmm. maybe. You don't... think that he's serious about it, do you? The woman is a vile fiend. Alistair: Well, look here, now who's an idle gossip? Me-ow! Leliana: You're the one who started this, I might remind you. And I'm... well, I'm ending it!

I once had the especially entertaining experience of getting this banter, and minutes later hearing Leliana turn to Morrigan to give her the "It's so nice that you're together, isn't love wonderful?" line. But whether or not you have the pleasure of hearing them back to back, I think this dialogue make it pretty clear that while Leliana would like not to think of herself as a gossip, it takes very little prompting from Alistair to get her to slip back into that mean girl persona. And Alistair (who is more perceptive than he often gets credit for), calls her on it immediately, clearly embarrassing Leliana--who realizes that her mask has slipped.

I don't think it follows from this that Leliana necessarily hates Morrigan unilaterally. There's something much more complex going on between them, in my opinion, because they are such distinct opposites in upbringing and personality. Both Leliana's faith and her life of courtly intrigue are nonsense to Morrigan, who neither believes in the Maker nor has much patience for intricate social graces (at least, not yet). Meanwhile, I think Morrigan's outward self-possession and the sense of power she exudes is a source of both fascination and frustration for Leliana, who thinks she understands power, both social and divine--but finds in Morrigan a kind she cannot fully comprehend. (I also think you can definitely feel some sexual tension into their banter, especially the much-beloved banter about the velvet dress.) Ultimately, both of them are very concerned with power, but approach that concept very differently. And Leliana responds to this clash of ideals in a particular way because her own self-image is so conflicted.

As all great Dragon Age foils do, Leliana and Morrigan needle one another, push each other's buttons, challenge one another's sense of self, and in doing so reveal one another in their complexity and sometimes in their ugliness. It is perhaps easy to write this off as the tired trope of women being unable to get along with one another, or conversely to claim that they get along just fine and fandom has fabricated the tensions between them; I think to do either of those things diminishes a genuinely complex and sticky relationship that serves to reveal a lot about both characters.

#leliana #riddleredcoats #dragon age meta #blunders of thedas

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nincompoopydoo · 4 years ago

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PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— HYMN OF THE LOVESICK ; PART 5 / ?

( gif from this beautiful gifset by @knightwayne )

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 2k

SUMMARY: Alfred definitely knows something about Bruce that you’re not willing to think about and Bruce has an epiphany that changes the way he sees you.

A/N: Guess who forgot which day pbr is usually posted? This idiot here. God, I’m sorry and this chapter can be boring. Next chapter will have a lot more going on, I promise. Also, this might end in the next chapter or two. Enjoy, folks.

WARNINGS: Kinda dramatic because I’m dramatic.

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

Driving through the Wayne estate gives you a sense of much-needed peace. The never-ending tunnel with walls of identical colossal pine trees as you faintly hum to Aretha Franklin over the low whirring of the running engine. It’s a quarter to noon, and the sun doesn’t seem to shine in the city of Gotham—clouds of grey constantly shield its optimum shine, only to ever allow rays to seep through the gaps in the moving Autumn wind. You don’t mind it and you never did, growing up in the city left clouds unnoticed to you unless it signified the arrival of a thunderstorm. Weather and nature are the least of your concerns but you would appreciate it now and then.

The tunnel of trees comes to an end as a clearing of extensive fields emerges into view. What is left of the Wayne Manor still stands with ostentation, despite its skeleton along with its dignity rotting away to be eventually consumed by mother nature herself. There’s a sense of eeriness to it; you find it odd how a building could seem so alive at times, like it's watching you, despite its apparent decay.

You turn your head away and focus on the road.

A glance at your hand on the wheel, you’re reminded of last night, when his hands held yours—it burns at the mere thought of his gentle touch. And the drive home, silent with the occasional glances and small smiles. You recall how the passing streetlights cascade hues of orange on his wearied expression and how his eyes were bright when they flit to your figure in the passenger seat for just a moment. Something must have changed between the two of you, but you can’t quite tell what. Maybe it’s your undying love for Bruce. Maybe he feels the same way. You snort to yourself, alone in your car, one can only dream but it doesn’t mean they all come true. Bruce may love but he doesn’t commit. You can’t commit too. Now, you’re starting to believe you’ve been lying to yourself.

The glasshouse comes into view as you steer around the bending road and into the driveway. It contradicts everything the manor was but only shared its sense of glory. You like the glasshouse, less deafening and structured with the purpose of bareness and vulnerability but its dark furnishings keep it grounded and secure. Its sense of balance tricks your mind into thinking you’re stable. His car is still around, parked by the porch but you don’t see him, ambling around the household.

Switching off the ignition, you snatch the paper bag from the passenger seat and clamber out of the car. Darker clouds begin rolling from afar, your hair flying in the strong wind. A storm is coming, you’re sure of it. One of the rare times it rains during the season. You dread the thought of having to drive back into the city and across Westward Bridge. Driving over bridges built over the water in the rain scares the heck out of you.

As you swing the car door to a close, you hear the shuffling of feet amongst leaves behind you. Alfred, with a barrel of chopped wood—stocking up for the winter. There’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes albeit startled by your sudden presence. He mentions your name with endearment; you greet him with a small smile. You always liked Alfred. You enjoyed his company.

“What a pleasant surprise seeing you here,” he says, pushing the barrel aside as he nears you. “I’m afraid you just missed Bruce. He left for Metropolis an hour ago—duty calls.”

You nod, ignoring the clench in your heart. He hadn’t told you anything but frankly, you weren’t expecting him to anyway.

“Well, I just came by to drop off this,” You lift the paper bag, swaying it a little within your grasp. “As a thank you gift, you know.” Alfred smiles at this, gestures towards the house in a beckoning manner. “Come on in, I’ll make you some tea.” Before you could even protest, he’s gently guiding you to the door by the shoulder. It’s hard to say no to Alfred, especially when he offers tea.

Your mind wonders as you watch the drizzle of rain form ripples in the lake. You sit on a chair with a contemporary structure to it; it digs into your lower back, due to your bad posture. Uncomfortable but nice-looking and great armrests. Contradicts everything a chair should be. Alfred emerges from the kitchen with a black ceramic mug in hand, steam from the brewed tea lingering above it. He holds an identical mug, for himself. With two hands, you clasp onto the mug with acceptance, a radiant appreciative smile upon your lips. “Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.” Alfred shoots you a look of disdain, “I’ve told you many times, Alfred is fine.” Taking a sip, you shake your head, a smile still lingering. “No way. I have too much respect for you to call you by your first name.” Alfred mirrors you, settling for the chair to your right, swiftly sliding the scatter of papers to the corner of the table. You find it easy to fall into a natural conversation with the older man—the two of you are mutuals after all of a certain billionaire. Yet, Alfred is more of a father figure, having practically raised Bruce and you, well, it’s complicated. It always is. You don’t know where you stand in his life, and you're not sure if you want to know.

“Anyway, where have you been? I haven’t seen you in weeks.” It’s true. The usual sight of the butler sauntering around the glasshouse or somewhere in the Wayne Estate was absent during the last two weeks. Alfred is always around, his disappearance was glaring, impossible to go unnoticed.

He shifts in his seat, placing his mug on the table, teaspoon moving with a soft clang. “I was visiting family back in England. I appreciate that you have noticed my absence,” An eyebrow raises, your laugh comes out more like a huff. “Always, Mr. Pennyworth.”

Family. Mother. Dinner—you remember the dinner with your mother on Sunday night, and you’re the host. The host hasn't decided on the menu for tomorrow’s meal. Oh God, it’s tomorrow. Procrastination is your friend but your family’s expectations for you aren't. If you pop enough wine bottles, maybe she'll be too drunk to be disappointed by the end of the night.

And the wedding. The mere thought makes you sick. You don’t want to bring a date, but you don’t want to be alone. Weddings, love, couples—it makes you tick. It’s a glaring reminder of how your love life is an absolute disaster and your inability to maintain relationships. It’s hopeless, you’ll die a spinster and everyone lives happily ever after.

“Are you alright?”

It’s funny how those three words have been the most frequent words you would hear from those around you. You appreciate the concern, really, but you can’t help but feel there’s a stronger and deeper meaning to those words. It’s a question of assurance, a reality check, and a realization that you might be broken. Everyone is broken—in their own ways.

Although you seem reserved to some people, your tendency to open up about your issues to those close to you contradicts that though you instantly regret it. Especially when people tell you to change. You hate change. It’s terrifying.

You pause, suddenly feeling...fidgety. Yet, in the words of Bruce: In Alfred, you trust.

Remember, keep it light. You don’t want to haul all this luggage of yours onto an aging man. He’s already got Bruce’s luggage.

“My cousin’s getting married in two weeks and,” you sigh, he listens intently. “And as pathetic as this sounds, I really don’t want to go to it alone.”

Your words are direct, straightforward and you sound like a whiny teenager or the main character in a Wattpad story but truth be told, there’s an underlying meaning to it and you know, Alfred knows it. You just don’t want to admit it.

He takes a beat, assessing your sentence like he’s a therapist, wanting to select his words carefully. “Well, I don’t think you’re pathetic. It’s...understandable,” he flashes you a pointed look and you find yourself straightening your back. “Why don’t you ask Bruce?”

Your brain must have short-circuited at that moment.

Oh, hell no. Not in a million years.

You’re shaking your head, laughing nervously. “No, no. No. Never. I couldn’t possibly ask him to do that. He’s already done so much for me—”

“You’ve done a lot for him too.”

A pause, words stuck in your throat. You just look at Alfred through confused eyes. You’re not sure what that means. He’s staring at you with a knowing look. You sigh, shaking your head in denial once more. “No, that’s...that’s not true.”

It’s almost infuriating how stubborn you can be sometimes that it’s even irritating yourself. You’re staring at your fingers, playing with the tag attached to the teabag by a thread. As far as you’re concerned, Bruce is...the greatest friend you’ve ever had. Through thick and thin, he’s been there for you. He’s always there. It’s partly the reason why you have fallen for him in the first place. Hard. He’s easy to love when he wears his heart on his sleeve. It’s rare but it’s beautiful. You almost feel ashamed to be allowed to see him in that light.

“Bruce will do just about anything for you,” Alfred says calmly as he watches you avoid eye contact. “And I know, you’ll do the same for him.” You throw your eyes at the older man as he cops you a look. Your heart is beating so fast, so thunderous, you hear it in your ears. He’s right and you know it. That accidental kiss to your forehead on the night you asked him to come for the play comes back to mind in a flash. It feels like a mark on your forehead, it feels like it’s burning.

“Would you like a scone with that?” He’s pointing to your tea and with that, he’s off to the kitchen once more, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

It’s late—a quarter to four in the morning. He spends most of his nights in the Batcave, hidden away from all the sounds and tumult of the world, shrouded in the darkness as the light of the computer screen cascades on his tired eyes. He ambles through the glasshouse, weary feet against hardwood floors, body begging to lay on grey sheets though he dreads a vacant bed.

He strains his eyes peering into the gloom when he perceives a paper bag, sitting idly on the table by the window. Nearing it, there’s a yellow post-it note stuck onto the bag and under the gentle light from the moon that reflects against the lake, he can make out words written on it.

It’s from you.

Thanks for coming to the play. I would have bought you something else, but I’m really broke. Sorry. I owe you one.

A drawn heart follows it. It’s tiny. His chest feels warm.

He should have recognized the paper bag because inside, there are four bagels. Four Asiago bagels. He laughs, it comes out more like a puff of hot air, feeling the warmth that resides in his chest spreading throughout his body.

Then, it hits him like a bullet to the heart. The impact is strong, powerful. Your impact on him is strong, powerful. There’s no mystery to his feelings for you but at this moment, he’s completely certain. For the first time in life.

He loves you.

Bruce staggers into the chair, hand carding back the strands of his hair. He can’t keep doing this to you. Whatever the hell is going on. Your friendship, the...stupid agreement. He wants none of it because it feels like he’s constantly going around in circles.

But what do you really want, Bruce?

TAGLIST

@raineeace

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batman #batman x reader #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine #bruce wayne x you #batman x you #alfred pennyworth #justice league

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sshbpodcast · 3 years ago

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Top Five Star Trek DS9 Episodes

by Ames

Oh my prophets, we’ve made it back through the wormhole and concluded all of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, and you know what? Overall it’s pretty damn good! Arguably the best as a series, we might say (and we did say), and all we’ve left to do is wrap it up in a nice hasperat burrito now.

In doing so and in typical A Star to Steer Her By fashion, we’ve also assembled the best episodes of the whole series into one big list. Check out the discussion in our DS9 finale episode here (series discussion starts at 1:58:12 after the season chatter), featuring even more bests from our special guest star Liz. And open up the Orb of Prophecy to read all the highlights below; you don’t have to be emissary to the prophets to enjoy these.

[images © CBS/Paramount]

“Blood Oath”: Caitlin The Klingons have been one of the most popular races in the galaxy, and Klingon episodes are just as fun, especially when they put in the work to feature some blasts from the relative past whom we saw in The Original Series! And some extra respect to this one because Kor says Trans Rights.

“Hard Time”: Ames Miles suffered a whole lot through the years, so the best of his suffering deserves to be on the best list, doesn’t it? Colm Meaney acts his ass off, the storytelling is clean and interesting, and we actually acknowledge mental health (just a little bit) for a change!

“The Wire”: Ames Speaking of actors who act their ass off. Andrew Robinson’s portrayal of Garak was something we just couldn’t get enough of (can we push for Star Trek: Garak perhaps?), and this episode takes the cake with just sublime acting from one of our favorite assassi– er, tailors.

“Rejoined”: Caitlin She started off rough, but Jadzia really began to bring it at some point in the show and we’ve targeted this episode as where we really started giving a damn about her. Finally, we see both the emotional weight of being a joined Trill and the actual acting chops of Terry Farrell all in one place!

“The Quickening”: Jake Similarly, Julian also started off really rough, but when that bright-eyed, bushy-tailed outlook started losing its brightness and bushiness (and when he stopped creeping on women for a while), we got to really see him as a character, and this episode highlights how great he can really be.

“Far Beyond the Stars”: Ames What more can we say about “Far Beyond the Stars,” an episode that we totally changed guest star Justus’s mind about when we covered it? What could have been a detrimental trope turns into a captivating and pertinent inspection of racism, storytelling, and history. Thank the prophets for this one!

“In the Pale Moonlight”: Chris It’s not a fake: our love for this episode is 100% real! It’s so excellent to see some really difficult ethical decisions get made on this show, highly contrasting the angelic Starfleet portrayals of the past. Science fiction is all about debate – is all about reflecting on the issue – and those are discussions we love to have!

“Duet”: Chris, Jake Two votes for this stellar two-hander that is just an actor’s banquet for excellent character development and every opportunity to utterly devour the scenery. Om nom nom scenery. Kira Nerys started off as one of the most well-written and consistent characters on the show, and she only got better and better from there.

“Second Skin”: Caitlin, Jake Speaking of Kira! Here’s some more well-deserved love for Nana Visitor who donned some Cardassian makeup and really went with it in this excellent character piece that turned her into everything she hated. Talk about an identity crisis!

“It’s Only a Paper Moon”: Caitlin, Chris At the start of the series, who would have thought that the juvenile delinquent character Nog would grow to be one of the most beloved on the show, with one of the most developed arcs? Credit to Aron Eisenberg for the nuance, heartbreak, struggle, and joy that he brought to Nog over the years.

“The Visitor”: Ames, Chris, Jake The Ben-Jake relationship proves again and again to be one of the strongest tenets at the core of Deep Space Nine and this episode really goes for it in telling a spellbinding tale of a boy’s love for his father. With added alternate realities, subspace shenanigans, and excellent guest acting thrown in to boot!

“Captive Pursuit”: Ames, Caitlin, Chris, Jake The one episode that made it on all our lists is actually one of the earliest in the series because we all just loved Tosk so much. What an excellent beginning to the series that starts exploring the ethics of how we treat other people and what we can do about that right out of the gate. We are Tosk!

—

See also: our Bottom Five Star Trek DS9 Episodes list for the less glowing but still fun to hate on stuff!

Considering the wormhole aliens’ nonlinear existence, can Deep Space Nine really be over? Well, I guess yes it can, because our journey through Star Trek must continue! We’ve got more fun planned for this page, so keep watching us here, listen to weekly episodes at our home on Soundcloud, follow us on Facebook and Twitter, and we’ll see you in the Delta Quadrant soon!

#star trek #star trek deep space 9 #ds9 #podcast #star trek podcast #top five #blood oath #hard time #the wire #rejoined #the quickening #far beyond the stars #in the pale moonlight #duet #second skin #it's only a paper moon #the visitor #captive pursuit

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levisnackajack · 4 years ago

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The Wrath of War

Chapter Sixteen

Slamming her bedroom door shut, Eden huffed under her breath at the resounding bang that snapped behind her. She walked through the headquarters in irritation; making sure to steer clear from anyone she couldn’t deal with so early in the morning.

The ever so energetic Sasha had woken her up; letting her know they were to get ready and go on another expedition beyond the walls. Apparently, there were more unusual Abnormal titan sightings alongside the exterior part of Wall Rose.

Commander Erwin had instructed for Captain Levi and Hange’s squads to head to the area and assure that this wasn’t a ploy created by the traitors who’s identities still lay unbeknownst to them. Regardless, the Commander had sent Levi a detailed letter, assuring him that this expedition would suffice to humanity in more than one way and lead them a step closer to victory.

Erwin’s letters would always state that fact; regardless of the amount of death and trauma his Regiment had seen.

Eden quickly ate breakfast in the kitchen; unbothered and groggy. Her head pounded, reminding her how little sleep she had gotten the night before since she spent it twisting around in her covers- thinking about everything that weighed on her heart.

Her boots crunched soundly against the pebbles spattered across the ground as she made her way to the stables not long after escaping the kitchen, unseen. Her fingers fiddled with the clasp of her green, Scout cloak as she secured it to her body. The charcoal-haired girl ignored the accompanying steps that cracked through the gravel behind her.

After taking two long steps into the stable, her back crashed against the wall, heated lips pressing against hers gently.

She returned the favor, her fingers interlinking with his before squeezing his palm lightly. His kisses would always be so gentle. Yet, every once in a while, he would slip up; growing more urgent. It was always something that intrigued Eden.

Jean let go of a low sigh that recoiled through her. “Do you accept my apology?”

Eden chuckled lowly, standing on her tiptoes as she reached to grab him by the collar. His hands settled against her slender waist, pulling her flush against him.

“You haven’t even apologized yet.”

Rolling his eyes, Jean pressed his forehead against hers, kissing the tip of her nose sweetly. His mouth then met hers tenderly, his tongue gliding against her bottom lip lazily. Eden’s teeth captured his tongue before sucking onto it teasingly. Her arms looped around his neck, a humored smirk lacing itself against Eden’s fatigued features.

“I’m sorry about last night, Eden. I shouldn’t have gotten pissed at you for something that wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah, but I just don’t get why you didn’t come up to me and let me know what the issue was so we could resolve it. I still don’t know what happened...-”

Jean hesitated, his fingertips stroking the side of her face before he kissed her temple softly. “Can’t you just let me apologize to you, woman?” She laughed under her breath, tipping her chin upwards before he kissed her swiftly.

Her nose flared at the scent of spices and cologne in a way that made Eden feel incredibly comfortable and safe. She knew that whatever happened, Jean would always be by her side; supportive as ever and willing to go through thick and thin for her.

Just as she would for him.

“Kirstein, you’re not wearing your ODM gear. I suggest you get a move on because I don’t plan on prolonging this expedition just because you need help strapping your harness to your ass,” an irked voice barked from the entrance of the stables.

Both Eden and Jean’s heads snapped to the entry-way and the girl pursed her lips as she lowered her head. Jean’s jaw clenched painfully tightly before his brown eyes flickered towards Eden’s downturned face. He let go of her hesitantly and by the way he walked past the Captain, Eden could safely assume he was infuriated.

She fixed her saddle and tightened the reins on her horse before quietly making her way out of the stable. Although her eyes were promptly fixated on the ground, Eden could sense Levi’s presence still lingering around her.

The air was hot and she felt irritated at herself when she began struggling to breath the closer she got to him.

Suddenly, Levi grabbed her by the wrist, shaking her slightly as he furiously stared into her eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you, brat? We’re about to go on an expedition where someone could potentially lose their life and this is what your mind is focusing on?” He scoffed under his breath, crossing his arms against his chest.

Eden’s amber eyes widened slightly, heart stammering in her chest. “I-I’m sorry, what? What do you mean?” She balled her trembling, white knuckles into fists, hiding her hands behind her back; the reins leaving prints on the inside of her palm.

“Don’t act stupid with me, you know what I’m talking about. And then you dare question why I decided to leave out of the previous mission,” Levi snapped at her sharply, iron eyes burning at the utterly perplexed girl. She moved her chin to the side, as though really taking the time to process his words.

None of the answers her mind provided her with explained what he was referring to. Her relationships with other people- specifically Jean- had absolutely nothing to do with the Captain. Yet, standing before him in awe; no words landed on her tongue.

Levi stiffened before shaking his head slightly. He lowered his head as though he were trying to recollect his thoughts. Combed, velvety raven hair toppled in front of his face and through the strands; Eden could see a sense of agitation carved onto his strained features.

He suddenly looked up at her, lips parting slightly and pupils dilating as his hand reached for her neck. Eden stood cemented in her place, the air hitching in her throat as his fingertips grazed the bruises he had inflicted upon her. Her eyes widened comically, eyebrows arching as she searched his blank face for an explanation.

But, he never met her stare.

His fingers gently prodded against the most vibrant bruise and Eden couldn’t rid herself of the fluttering notions within her gut. It made her knees weak and her stomach flipped. Her palms grew sweaty and her mouth went dry. Those feelings grew even more vivid once she caught sight of his stoic face relaxing ever so slightly.

His cold touch brought back memories of yet another heated interaction between them. Yesterday’s training had been impeccably intense; but as much as Eden felt incredibly hurt by Levi contusing her so horribly; she couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride at the fact that she had managed to catch him off guard and swing at him. She knew her powers would never level his; yet she basked in the tiny victory their encounter had bestowed her with.

A cruelly ice-cold shiver ran its coarse along her back and she swatted his hand away, causing her heart squeezed uncomfortably. Levi finally met her stare, but did not say anything.

Eden bit her lip, bouncing on her heels in trepidation as she tried to formulate a singular, coherent response. “W-why do you care what I do in my free time?”

Immediately, Levi’s brows furrowed. He looked very deep in thought as a scowl etched itself across his perfectly sculpted features. Looking away, that scowl transformed into an expression of distaste as a soft scoff slipped through his downturned lips.

“I don’t fucking know,” he growled at her, jaw clenching imperceptibly tighter that what it was before.

Eden watched as he walked away from her without even giving her the chance to respond.

Eden and Armin got assigned to Hange’s squad formation since her team was incomplete. It was like a slap in the face for the girl as certainty crept into her when she imagined how relieved Levi must have felt knowing he can place her under someone else’s direct command and keep her away from him.

Sending her blond friend a wide smile, her own eyes remained blank as she reminisced the recent turn of events. She couldn’t quite put her finger around why his answer bothered her.

Was it because it had left her yearning for more answers or because she just felt like he had pushed her into a bleak vortex of confusion?

Regardless, the expedition had begun and Eden knew better than to dwell on her feelings when so much was at stake.

They headed in the abnormals’ direction and Eden began growing more nervous as the minutes ticked by. She felt confident in her fighting; but it was incredibly difficult for her to split herself from all her overwhelming thoughts. She was an incredibly emotional individual- meaning she struggled immensely when it came to separating herself from a situation that had struck her heart. And it felt worse knowing that out on the open fields where a titan could strike at any moment. Her anxiety surpassed the roof.

Captain Levi had decided that since they were to oversee an affected, exterior part of Wall Rose; it was best for them to ride on the outside side; rather than travel from the inside and then climb up the wall with their ODM gear. That way, if there were any more phenomenal situations; they could deal with it there and then.

Apart from the hooves scraping against the grass, it was quiet on titan territory. Hange twirled her flare-gun from the center of their diamond formation, as though she was bored with the circumstances. Eden pursed her lips and urged her horse to gallop faster.

Thunderous footsteps clashed closer to them; catching everyone’s attention. Hange snapped her head in that direction, eyes widening hungrily as she shot out a black flare through the clear, blue sky. Eden could only assume that Levi and his team would continue towards the sighting, as it seemed purely pointless for them to retreat and jump into a fight.

“Everyone get ready! Multiple abnormals ranking between 12 and 16 meters incoming from your left.” Hange yelled over the horses’ hooves, a wild spark glinting in her eyes.

Eden watched as they mindlessly sprinted towards their squad; their movements bizarre and irritating to look at. She huffed under her breath and readied her swords.

Once the humanoid creatures were in their perimeter; Hange gave the members on the outer positions in the formation the green light and Eden steadied herself on the saddle of her horse. She didn’t really have a plan in mind; so she just winged it. Which was perhaps not the best idea when she was knocking on Death’s door; but now was not the time to go over details.

Squeezing the handles of her gear, the familiar sound of the iron wire slicing through the air echoed around her. She pushed herself off her horse; allowing the wire to guide her through the air before hooking herself against the wall.

Counting the seconds under her breath, her hazel eyes never left the approaching titans’ disgusting faces. The scent of rotting flesh and bones hit her on the tenth second. Scrunching her nose, she began to count down.

Hitting the third second, she pushed herself off the wall, pulling out her blades as her hooks clenched around the skin on the closest titan’s collarbone. The wire recoiled and pulled her towards it with such sheer speed, everything around her grew blurry. With a grunt, both blades sliced through its hardened skin effortlessly, the steam nearly blinding her.

The titan toppled to the ground and in the last moment, Eden craned her neck back to appreciate the long cut that perfectly severed the titan from the inward part of its shoulder; all the way to the other side. A shriek pierced through the air.

She let out a soft gasp as she watched one of her fellow comrades from Hange’s team become crushed to pulp inside a titan’s massive mouth. Eden watched in horror as another girl let out a bloodcurdling screech, reaching for the deceased man. Another titan swooped in and caught her mid-air; pulling her limbs apart as though she was just a rubber toy.

Swallowing thickly, she forced herself to focus on her path; choosing to disregard the way her blades trembled as she landed on another titan. She slashed its nape, blood spurting in her face, burning her skin. She spat the liquid that had fallen into her mouth in disgust and angled her hooks to grip the wall.

Eden watched as Hange and Armin and a few others continued onwards towards the first team and her eyes grew wide at the sight of more titans emerging out of nowhere. Growing cautious, Eden decided it was best to preserve her gas reservoir as much as possible.

The amount of approaching titans made her feel like using a limited amount of gas was the only choice that could possibly gain her another day. She reached the top of the wall and began sprinting forward, eyes calculating how far she would need to run in order to intercept her horse and jump down on its back.

Her comrades looked so small as she looked over the edge of the wall. The sight made her dizzy. When she decided the time was right, Eden flung herself over the edge, using her ODM gear only when she wanted to slow herself down; a breath before she managed to slump onto her saddle. But, her horse whinnied at the earth-shattering footsteps of the nearby titans, throwing her off and sprinting away.

Eden vaguely heard Armin screaming her name as she wheezed out, her lungs burning with adrenaline. She looked up to see a large palm reaching for her, wide, dead eyes peaking over her as it stared hungrily down at Eden. She backed up, fumbling to stand and pull her blades out.

Another high-pitched yell reverberated through the open air. The approaching fingers toppled to the ground as the beast let out a deafening roar. Armin ran towards her, putting his bloodied swords away before grabbing her by the shoulders.

“Are you okay, Eden?” He asked her as she pulled herself to her feet.

“I’m fine, Armin, thank you for that,” she replied, goosebumps appearing against her skin at the sound of echoing cries and pleas for mercy emerged from their fallen comrades. “We need to go, it’s not safe out here. We should head to the rest of the team and figure out what the hell we’ll do when there isn’t a hungry-looking titan looming over us,” she yelled, pulling his sleeve as they ran towards the horses.

Everything slowed down for her once a yellow flare shot through the air in the distance.

Levi’s team.

Eden’s heart faltered as her mind fluttered elsewhere, subconsciously slowing her running down. Armin turned around, face contorting in a horrified manner as he reached for Eden’s hand. There was a static sound that muffled all the noise in Eden’s ears; her lips parting as she felt thick fingers snake around her body. She watched Armin run back to her and she screeched for him to turn around and go.

Tears streaked the ocean-eyed boys’ face as she was hoisted off the ground effortlessly, her fingers slipping away from his the higher she went. Eden thrashed and flailed before letting out a pained cry when the titan’s grip grew more solid. She felt as though someone had poured cement over her body; the pressure close to crushing her bones to dust.

Blood spurted out of her mouth as her lungs begged for mercy and her limbs grew weaker. In that moment, she felt like there was nothing else she could do. She felt so utterly helpless and what pained her the most was the fact that she would probably never be able to say goodbye to her friends, to Jean.

To Levi.

Her life really did flash before her eyes as her eyesight grew foggy, the pressure of keeping her body awake became harder and harder as the seconds ticked by. She saw Armin, Eren and Mikasa’s baby faces; back when they used to play tag in Shiganshina. She watched Connie and Sasha daring her to balance a loaf of bread on her head after training. Jean’s face appeared with the silly, cocky smirk that made her swoon and slap his shoulder.

Then, his face contorted into Levi. His cold, indifferent stare sent chills down her spine.

How could someone so emotionless bring up so much commotion within her?

But, she knew she didn’t have enough time to question it. Eden just focused on every single details of his face she had memorized as the pain seeped through her body, pulling her into a vortex of darkness and serenity.

Tags: @idiot-juice-enthusiast @hadassackerman

As always, the link to the full story in AO3 can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919136/chapters/70952145

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 5 years ago

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Roguish Women Part 29

Summary: Kate is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 29: Kate tells her truth

Francis Lynch was a wreck. She could barely stand or hold her head up and it had been three hours since the police had left. Three hours since one of the detectives informed her of her husband’s accident. In the wee hours of the morning, Ryan Lynch, drunk as a skunk, had fallen into the Boston Harbor and drowned.

“What am I going to do?” She wailed from her seat at the kitchen table. Her head was in her hands.

Her eighteen-year-old daughter was sitting on the floor, her knees tucked to her chest. “It’ll be alright, mom.” She said quietly. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her father was never the person he was meant to be. He worked twelve hours a day then spent his free time in the pub. He was never particularly loving toward his only child. After all, she was simply a mistake in his eyes. Young and reckless, he got Francis pregnant and his Catholic father guilted them into marriage.

But Kate was still sad. She still loved him.

“It won’t be alright!” Francis cried. “We’ll lose the apartment, we’ll lose everything!”

“No, we won’t.” Kate stood up shakily and tried to comfort her mother. “I promise we’ll be alright.”

~~~~~

“I worked to help pay the bills and to pay my neighbor for ballet lessons,” Kate explained. She sat down on the bed as she started to explain everything, she had lied to him about. “My mom worked too but my father brought in the most money.”

Tommy wasn’t sure he expected the story to go so far back. In his experience, the farther back a story went, the more lies there were. But he tried to keep an open mind, she was being honest with him even if he was hesitant about it.

“When my father died, we would’ve become homeless in a couple of months.”

Tommy frowned. “You didn’t tell me your father died.” As far as the story went, or at least the one he was led to believe, Kate’s father was the reason for all of her troubles. Someone who was caught up in the American mafia, who placed all the burden on Kate.

“Just, just listen.”

He nodded and went to sit beside her on the bed. The last thing he wanted was for a confrontation so soon after reuniting with her. That’s why he had wanted to at least delay the truth. But he also didn’t want her to feel guilty either.

“I’d known Frank Wallace and his brother Steve for a long time. They were already established as the Gustin Gang by that point and they controlled most of South Boston. I met Frank through my neighbor who taught me lessons. He had helped her rent and legal issues. So, I went to him after my father died.”

~~~

“Girl like you shouldn’t be dealing in those sorta things, Katie,” Frank warned.

They were at one of the bars the Wallace brothers owned. One of the places Kate’s father frequented. Kate looked around the place, wondering if this was the last place her father had been before he left and fell into the Harbor.

“I don’t think I have a choice.” She replied quietly.

“I’ll help you find a good job with better pay.” He assured her. “Don’t worry about your landlord either, I’ll pay him a visit if he gives you trouble ‘bout the rent.”

To anyone else, it would’ve sounded like the perfect scenario. Having friends in gangs sometimes had its perks. But Kate shook her head. “I don’t want that, Frankie. You know how long I’ve been training to dance. I’m not going to give that up so I can work myself to death like…” She paused. “Whatever.”

Frank tapped his knuckles on the table. “But to get into shit like bootlegging? You’re only gonna bring yourself more troubles.”

“It’s what I want to do. I can do this and have enough money to take care of my mom. Meanwhile, I can hopefully get into a ballet company. Then over time, I might make more from dancing.”

The older man sighed. “I know that I can’t fucking do anything to change your mind. But you need to know that this shit isn’t something you can walk away from. Not a little side job you can drop whenever you want.”

“I know.”

~~~

“I used my father’s identity to set it all up. I started to facilitate shipments from Europe to get liquor into Boston and then ship it all over the country. I put any debts in my father’s name and Frank helped me deal with anyone so nothing would be traced back to me.”

Tommy wasn’t surprised that she had managed to create a bootlegging empire. Kate was certainly clever enough to get the job done. He was just unsure why she hadn’t confessed that to him when they initially met. But he wanted to hear her out so he nodded for her to continue.

“I was accepted into the Boston ballet company and began dancing. It became so much easier after that. I started to meet people who were higher up in the city. Rich people, people who wanted things done. Only the wealthiest knew who I really was. Everyone else thought it was my father in control.”

~~~

“That was a beautiful performance, Miss Lynch.”

“Oh, Mr. Weld,” Kate startled as she left the theatre through the backstage door. “I didn’t see you there.”

The wealthy businessman was standing by his expensive, neatly polished car parked in the back alley. Mr. Weld was dressed in a tuxedo, demonstrating that he had seen the ballet performance that had just ended.

“Let me drive you home.” He offered, opening the car door for her.

“That would be kind, thank you.” Kate had no qualms about getting into his car. She was armed with a pistol and even then she doubted the man would attack her. She was far too valuable.

“I do appreciate your work, Kathleen but I came here to voice some concerns.” Mr. Weld said as he got into the car and started it up.

“By all means, tell me what you’re worried about.”

The man sighed anxiously. “I understand you’ve been branching out to Chicago, selling to their bars. Word is you’ve gathered a few men there who act on your behalf.”

“I don’t give out names of people I work with,” Kate replied calmly. “What I do in Chicago won’t affect my business with your bars, Mr. Weld. You’ll get shipments and protection as long as I’m paid.”

“What I’m concerned about is the Chicago Outfit.” He ignored the mild threat. He’d been behind a few times with payments and had learned his lesson early on that it didn’t matter that Kate was a woman. She wasn’t someone to be messed with.

Kate bit her tongue. The Chicago Outfit was frightening to anyone, but she didn’t show fear. “There’s no reason for concern.”

“Pardon my insistence, but there’s been word that you’ve…you’ve been disregarding their territory lines. I would urge you to be careful or to even back out of Chicago entirely. The more you press…”

“What?” She glanced over at him, still conveying that she wasn’t bothered even when her stomach was in knots.

Mr. Weld’s fingers tapped nervously on the steering wheel. “The more attention you’ll call to yourself. I don’t wish to have any ties to someone who upsets them.”

“Then pay me what I’m due and our contract will be finished,” Kate replied with a tone of finality. “You can go over to the North End and ask the Italians for help. Because you won’t get any more help from any of my allies.”

Mr. Weld swallowed. “Just please consider your actions a bit more carefully.” He parked outside of the Lynch’s apartment building.

“I run my business how I see fit,” Kate said, stepping out of the car. “Let me know if you want to continue our business relationship.” She closed the car door firmly.

~~~

“I was making money but not enough to completely stay afloat. , I branched out further to Chicago and made mistakes. I was given a warning but I didn’t listen.”

Tommy had been in the game long enough to know the consequences of ignoring warnings. “What did they do?”

“They took a train to Boston and kidnapped my mother. They tortured her for days but she wouldn’t tell them where I was. They ended up throwing her in the river.” Kate tucked her knees to her chest as she stared at the floor with tears in her eyes. The sight of her mother’s body being hauled out of the river would always be etched into her brain. The guilt was so unbearable she tried to pawn it off to someone else. It was the Chicago Outfit’s fault. It was the fault of whoever gave them her mother’s address. It was her father’s fault for leaving them with no income. But in the end, there was no escaping it. Kate knew it was her fault.

Tommy, although stunned into silence by her history, he instinctually wrapped an arm around her shoulders to comfort her. His actions had led to the death of others. He knew the weight of guilt that would always rest on his soul.

“That same night I went to Santo. I wanted him to get revenge for me. I only knew him because he left me a letter after one of my performances. He hounded me for weeks about a business relationship and then something personal. I knew he was waiting for me after the news spread about my mother.”

~~~

“My condolences, Miss Lynch.” Santo poured Kate a glass of wine. They were sat together in a secluded booth at one of the North End restaurants Santo owned.

“Thank you.” She replied quietly. It still hadn’t quite hit that her mother was dead. Yet, there she was, willing to negotiate for revenge.

“Why is it you wanted to come to see me so soon after your mother passed?” He asked even though there was a twinkle in his eye. A sort of knowing. There was no mystery as to why she was there.

“Because I need the bastard who killed her to pay. I want him dead.”

He raised his eyebrows as if he hadn’t even considered that. “And why should I help you? You’ve never proposed an alliance before, why would I risk any of my men to help you? You must know that the Chicago Outfit are dangerous.”

“Because you’re the only one in Boston who has a feud with them, you would want an opportunity to raise hell, and I would pay you.” Kate knew that talking to gang leaders was never easy. She tended to get right to the bottom line to skip all the fanfare they were so fond of.

“I’m a wealthy man, Kate, why would I need your money?” He adjusted his cufflinks almost as an example.

“What else would you want?”

~~~

“That’s where the deal came in. He killed the man who killed my mother. But when the deadline came, I didn’t have enough money. One of my shipments fell through and I lost a lot of money. I begged Santo to give me more time but he refused.”

Tommy couldn’t help the instinctual anger he felt when Santo’s name was brought up. It only minorly distracted him from the bewildering story Kate was telling him.

“I left before he could get me and ended up in France.”

“And that’s where I come in,” Tommy mumbled quietly.

“Yeah.” Her voice was almost at a whisper. Kate was terrified of what he would say to her.

But he didn’t speak for a long while. He kept his arm around her, absent-mindedly rubbing her shoulder.

“Say something, please.” She begged.

“I don’t know what to say, Kate.” He finally spoke. “I just-I don’t know if it changes anything but I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me.”

Kate felt like breaking down and just curling into a ball. Hardly anyone knew her true story. If she trusted anyone to hear it, Tommy would be high up on that list. But it was still agonizing to open up her old wounds. “Because when I went to France, I vowed to put it all behind me. I didn’t want to be that person again not after what happened to my mother. But then you came into my life and…” She put a hand to her face. “I don’t know I just thought you might be my ticket out.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You made me feel safe. And if I had to go back to what I was doing before then I trusted you would be able to keep me safe. Especially if Santo ended up finding me.” She tried to explain as best she could. “But I still wanted to be rid of my past so that’s why I lied. Maybe I just didn’t want to admit what I’d done.”

Tommy wasn’t sure what else he could say. Perhaps she had a reason for lying to him. Maybe it was enough that she wanted to put her past behind her. Sometimes, Tommy wished he could just step away from it all and resume a new life. Start off on a clean slate without any debts. But the world didn’t work that way. Kate was now figuring that out.

“I didn’t think I would fall in love with you. I didn’t even plan on staying in Birmingham that long. I had no problem lying because…your family was just another step in the road. But…then I-I fell in love with you and I just didn’t know how to tell you the truth. The longer I waited, the harder it got.” Weary from all the emotions she’d gone through in those past months, she slumped forward over her knees, holding her hands to her face. “I don’t want to be just another person who lied to you.”

“C’mere.” He helped her sit upright so he could cradle her in his arms. “What we have is real, aye? It doesn’t have anything to do with what happened in America. The only thing I care about is what happens between us here.”

Kate buried her face in the crook of his neck. She wanted him to push her away, to look at her with disgust and hatred. She wanted him to hate her for the things she’d done.

But he held her close and kissed her hair. “It’s done, yeah? You’re coming home, you leave all of it behind.”

“Tom, I lied to everyone. I put them at risk I-” She couldn’t say it, but she felt worse than Grace. She had lied for longer than Grace had. She had condemned Grace for lying, yet Kate had been lying all along as well.

“Leave it behind, Kate.” He urged. “You can leave it behind.”

He looked over her shoulder, still processing everything she’d told him. Kate was right, he was blind when it came to the people, he was closest to. So distrustful of the world, but those who had his heart were above suspicion.

They sat there for a long while, sitting with everything said and just getting used to being in each other’s company again.

“How is the rest of the family?” Kate asked quietly, finally lifting her head, able to meet his eyes again. “Have they been alright?”

He took a deep breath. Time for some of his own admission of guilt. “They’re all in prison and they’ve been sentenced to hang.”

//I hope this format was okay to follow. I just didn’t want it to be one huge text block of Kate explaining everything.

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overthinkingkdrama · 5 years ago

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Hi! So, I’ve just recently gotten into K-Dramas, and... I have a small issue, and that is though I LOVE them in the beginning, by the end they always disappoint me? Like, they start lighthearted and fun, and then by the end suddenly everyone’s in mortal peril, and I don’t care? Or they start all fantasy, and then it’s all about the romance in the end? So... Could you possibly recommend me ones that are good, or tone consistent, throughout? Please?

Hi! Thanks for dropping by for recs. These are some of my favorite asks. I just love going back through my watch list and finding dramas that fit a given criteria. It gets more fun the more dramas I've seen.

The thing about Kdramas that makes them a uniquely sticky beast is that many of them are live-shot week to week, at least for part of their run, and often the scripts are not fully written before filming begins. Popular Kdramas will also occasionally receive extensions which can cause further pacing and plot issues and (sometimes) cause a story to sputter out entirely. With the increasing prevalence of entirely preproduced dramas there's been an increase in overall drama quality and consistency in past years. That being said, Kdramas are still a decidedly mixed bag in terms of overall production quality. So it pays to either drop things with extreme prejudice if you stop enjoying them and watch widely, or to have a good drama filter friend (like me!) to give you vetted recs. As a genre a lot of the more "classic" feeling dramas have a tendency to start really light hearted and then swing super dramatic in the latter half. That's something I occasionally like, but lucky for you not all dramas are like that!

Your ask doesn't really tell me what genre of Kdrama most appeals to you, so I went through my list and tried to find you wide a variety of dramas that I think of as being well-paced and tonally consistent throughout. I've also tried to limit myself to dramas that I rated highly on MDL, although my primary criteria was "good and tonally consistent" so this list of dramas is kinda all over the map. But then, so are my tastes. Also, I kinda got the impression from your ask that you're not a fan of the uber-melodramatic side of kdramas and you want something a little more restrained and less soapy, so I tried to steer away from those more makjang dramas but did not entirely succeed, lol. I gave a couple sentences of description so you can more readily narrow down what you're interested in, and if you would like a more thorough review of the dramas some of these have full reviews on my blog which I went ahead linked where they exist.

Age of Youth: A well written slice-of-life ensemble drama about a group of 5 college age women who end up boarding together. There are a couple moments of high drama/trauma toward the end of the show that might be a turn off. But other than the finale the tone is consistent. 9/10

Arang and the Magistrate: A dark fantasy fusion sageuk with a romance. I included this drama because it does a good job of developing the creepy worldbuilding and fantasy throughout. Though at points it can be a bit slow and the special effects are hella cheesy. 8/10

Argon: A tight, journalism driven suspense drama. Not always my genre but I found it very engaging, and at eight episodes it does not overstay its welcome. 8/10

Be Melodramatic: Another female-centric slice-of-life ensemble drama, though with an emphasis on fourth wall breaking comedy and clever dialogue. Very funny and heartfelt. 8.5/10

Cheese in the Trap: Maybe a controversial inclusion, but I very much enjoyed this drama. A slice-of-life college romance with psychological thriller elements. Some critics felt that the drama focused too heavily on the second male lead in the later half of the story, but YMMV. 8.5/10

Coffee Prince: Classic cross-dressing romance and still probably the best of its kind. A wonderfully nuanced and progressive handling of the subject matter, even after 13 years. Deals with serious subjects but doesn't go too melo with it. 8.5/10

Children of Nobody: My best of 2019, a dark psychological thriller about a child psychiatrist and a police detective who have to confront gray morality while attempting to track down a serial killer who only targets unrepentant child abusers. 9.5/10

Ex-Girlfriend Club: On the lighter side, a friends-to-lovers type romantic comedy about the writer of an autobiographical webtoon who has to figure out a way to get along with a group of his ex-girlfriends to make a movie based on his work. Only 12 episodes. 8.5/10

Go Back Couple: Also only 12 episodes (these shorter dramas tend to be better paced I find) a time-slip drama about a divorced couple who get the chance to relive their twenties and end up realizing they still have feelings for each other. This drama is both very funny and it had me bawling on multiple occasions. 9.5/10

Healer: A favorite of a lot of drama fans, this is an action-focused romance about an awkward soft boy with a secret identity as a highly skilled errand boy to criminals and an intrepid tabloid reporter who is his biggest fan. This drama is pretty tropey, but it's fun and the romance is great. 8.5/10

Hello Monster (aka I Remember You): A police procedural with a background love line about a criminal profiler looking for his lost brother and a detective looking for her father's murderer. One of my personal favorites. 10/10

Hit the Top (aka The Best Hit): A time-slip fish-out-of-water comedy about a 90s pop star who winds up in modern day Seoul and ends up befriending his biological son and meets old friends who his disappearance left in the lurch. 9/10

Incomplete Life (aka Misaeng): A realistic office drama that gave me real world work anxiety, focusing on a failed Go player who winds up an intern at a highly competitive shipping company and has to find a way to earn his keep even without the background and college education of his coworkers. Unbelievably well done ensemble drama. 9/10

Just Between Lovers: A romantic melodrama about two people whose lives were irrevocably changed by a tragic mall collapse that nearly killed them as children, meeting again as adults and finding comfort and healing in each other. A rough sit at times, but a wonderful love story with incredible acting. 9/10

Just Dance: High school, slice-of-life, drama about a dance club in a technical high school and a group of working class kids who reluctantly become involved in this club and befriend each other. Only 8 episodes (or 16 thirty minute episodes, depending on how you recon it.) 8.5/10

Life on Mars: Remake of the British show of the same name, this is a surreal time-slip police drama, about a forensics expert who gets shot in the head and wakes up in 1988. Or does he? He could also be dying on an operating table. It's hard to tell. Dark, suspenseful and trippy. 9/10

Matrimonial Chaos: An off-beat comedy about two dysfunctional couples who become inescapably mixed up in each others lives. One that's having a hard time getting divorced and another that's having a hard time getting married, and all the messy weird emotions that go along with that. This is another one of those, makes you laugh/makes you cry throughout dramas I have an affinity for. 9/10

Moment of Eighteen: A heartfelt high school drama about a straightforward but awkward loner who is forced to transfer to a new school, immediately earns the ire of a powerful student and experiences first love. Not my usual thing, but very well written with complex and likeable characters. 8/10

Mother: A cold and socially isolated woman becomes a temporary teacher and upon discovering one of her students is being severely abused and neglected, decides to pose as the child's mother and go on the run with her. Like Children of Nobody, this can be a bit of a rough watch because of the subject matter but it is very well done. 9.5/10

My Mister: A healing, human drama about a structural engineer in his 40s and a debt-ridden young woman in her 20s who end up crossing paths and saving each other from a miserable existence. My current all time favorite drama. Cannot say enough good things about it. Practically perfect in every way. 10/10

One Spring Night: A very restrained and naturalistic slow-burn romance about a woman who is about to get married and suddenly begins to question her relationship and a single father who had given up on love who find themselves irresistibly drawn to one another. 9/10

Prison Playbook: An ensemble slice-of-life drama centered on prisoners and correctional officers in their day to day lives. I find the actual het romances in this drama totally useless, but it's a large and talented cast playing a variety of lovable characters. 8/10

Psychopath Diary: Recent fave. A screwball black comedy about a mild mannered pushover who loses his memory and finds a diary that convinces him he's a psychopathic murderer, which gives him a huge boost of confidence from his new found identity, much to the chagrin of those around him and the actual owner of the diary himself. 8.5/10

Queen In Hyun's Man: A drama about a Joseon scholar who time travels to modern day Seoul and meets an actress who just landed a part playing the queen he served in the past. This one might be on the border line of too dramatic or tonally inconsistent, but it's got one of the most pitch perfect finales in Kdramas and the 45 min episodes keep it a snappy watch that doesn't drag or meander too much. 8/10

Reply 1988: A late 80s nostalgia drama about a group of families who all live off the same alley. Lovely family drama, comedy with a variety of romances. Long ass episodes especially later in the run, but I have rewatched the whole thing and I loved every minute of this show. 9.5/10

Save Me: A dark drama about a young woman who finds herself forced into a dangerous cult by her family, and is desperate to escape, and a group of 4 local young men who try to help her. One of the more unique and well done OCN thrillers. 9/10

School 2013: High school ensemble drama that launched a whole bunch of careers. In general I avoid school dramas (I know there have been three on this list so far, but those are like the only three, lol) but this show got me so invested in all these students and teachers. Also the two male leads are so shippable. 9.5/10

Secret Love Affair: A romantic melodrama about a piano prodigy from an underprivileged background who catches the eye of a married older woman and the two fall into a passionate affair. This drama involves cheating (obviously) but it's beautifully filmed and written and the music is to die for. 9.5/10

Signal: This is a supernatural crime thriller and a perennial favorite in the Kdrama community. An imbittered criminal profiler finds an antique police radio which allows him to speak with a police detective 15 years in the past, and uses this to crack cold cases and try to prevent brutal crimes from ever happening. 9/10

Six Flying Dragons: This one is a bit different from the others on the list, first of all because it's a more traditional historical drama, and secondly because it 50 episodes long. But it is so, so very good. And if you're looking for overall consistency in terms of storytelling and tone this drama has it in spades. 9/10

SKY Castle: A unique melodrama about a group of affluent competitive mothers who will go to any lengths to get they're children into the best medical schools, and a mysterious school coordinator with shady motives who gets brought in as a ringer to give them an edge. This show is kind of hard to sell but very entertaining and watchable. 7.5/10

Stranger (aka Secret Forest): The story of a stalwart prosecutor who, due to a childhood trauma is unable to feel the full spectrum of emotions, works with a bighearted police detective to root out corruption around a series of murders. This one’s rather cerebral and requires your full attention but the leads are amazing and there's a second season coming out this year I'm very much looking forward to! 9/10

The Nokdu Flower: Another sageuk drama about the latter years of the Joseon Dynasty surrounding three people who fall on different sides during the Donghak Peasant rebellion. Incredibly well written and involving historical drama. If you're not sure you're ready to commit to something like Six Flying Dragons, I think this would be another good entry point into the genre. The acting is amazing. 9/10

The Smile Has Left Your Eyes: A romantic melodrama and psychological thriller about a dangerous enigmatic young man on the cusp of becoming either a human being or a monster. He becomes involved in a fraught relationship with the sister of a police detective at the same time her protective older brother begins to focus on him as the prime suspect for a murder. High key moody and tragic if you're into that kind of thing (I am). 9/10

Touch Your Heart: On the complete other end of the drama spectrum, this show is pure unadulterated fluff, which managed to keep me giggling and swooning throughout the run, even though it's typically not my thing. An actress joins a law office as research for a role and falls for the ace attorney she's assisting. 8.5/10

WATCHER: Another OCN thriller about three different people with shady motivations who are connected to the same murder case and become involve in a corruption task force looking into dirty cops. One of those "trust nobody, everyone's a suspect" dramas with lovely complex characters and a fully engaging plot. 8.5/10

Sorry that got so out of hand! This is what happens when you don't give me a little more direction I guess. These are all dramas I quite enjoyed and I believe you will find something in there that will suit your fancy. This is a pretty accurate cross section of my tastes.

Happy watching!

Jona

#asks #answered #kdrama recs #this got stupid long #i got half way through writing my two sentence plugs and was like #omg why did i put so many dramas on this list #lemme just casually throw together a list of 30+ titles that’s what you want right #like wtf #oh well #hope you find something you like anon #i have no idea why i’m this way either

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jalebi-weds-bluetooth · 5 years ago

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There’s More To Her #5

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Sweet Consequences

Arnav, Khushi, Akash and Payal stood by the Gupta House, reeling in their last chuckles.

"Seven times," Khushi began, muffling her giggle as Payal pinched her. "I mean, you punctured your car seven times to be able to meet Jiji." Akash reddened and turned to his cousin for help but Arnav chose to stare at his shoes, a small smile threatening his lips.

They let the moment pass, basking in the happiness the sunset brought. Khushi fiddled with her dupatta, Payal played with a strand of hair. Arnav tapped his foot, Akash cleared his throat.

"Payal ji-"

"Yes Akash ji."

Akash took a soft, tentative step towards her. Khushi and Arnav took a step behind, keeping a watchful eye over their cousins.

"I know a lot has happened. But, can you give me a chance? No, I'm not asking you to marry or even love-"

"Okay," Payal said, her cheeks warm.

"-nor am I asking for any commitment. We can date, at your convenience. And only during daytime, we would not meet for dinners, no, not at all. We can meet at parks, or films? Do you also like Salman Khan? Please only if there are any feelings from your end and after I have a conversation with my family-" Arnav and Khushi rolled their eyes, one of them had to intervene and stop Akash for the sake of his safety.

"Akash," Arnav placed a hand on his shoulder, "Payal said yes." Akash stopped and stared at Payal in amazement.

"But... since we're meeting outside, then I won't come alone." Payal said.

"Oh no of course. No no even I won't come alone, I'll bring Bhai with me. He'll accompany us." Akash grinned, forgetting that Arnav would have liked to have been asked before becoming an invited third wheel to his cousin's date.

"That's great, I'll also bring Khushi with me!" Payal chirped, unaware of Khushi's glare. Khushi could only groan in disbelief, since when did a younger sibling chaperone an older one? And since when did anyone plan on bringing their cousins to a date? Khushi looked up to find a similar expression of disbelief in Arnav's face.

Yet, at the hope of something new for Payal and Akash, it didn't matter if the cousins agreed to the weird courtship.

Akash rolled down the car window, letting the breeze touch his face. Honestly, nothing more had happened apart from Payal accepting to date him, yet, his instinct told him that he had taken the best decision of his life.

Payal gave him a chance. Gave them a chance. And he would prove it to her, for them. No matter how many years it could take.

Arnav watched his cousin stare at nothingness.

"Bhai, every love has its time, does it not?" Akash asked, humming off tune to the radio, "So nothing should be decided in a haste." Akash spoke to himself, not waiting for Arnav's reply.

Arnav gripped the steering wheel, Akash's words haunting him like a warning.

Payal stared at the moon as Khushi massaged oil in her scalp.

"Let the Goddess of Hair shine on you and present you lustrous locks for your date! Hey Devi Maiya, what will I do in this silly date of yours Jiji? I know they say the wife's sister is a half wife but you took this very seriously!" Khushi playfully tugged Payal's hair.

Payal slapped her hand.

"Uff, Khushi! You're crazy. You know I couldn't just meet Akash ji on my own..." Khushi wrapped her arms around her sister's shoulders. She understood her. They weren't raised like that.

"I know. But what's the use of these meetings? You two anyways wouldn't go beyond Akash ji, Payal ji..." Khushi sat by Payal and coyly smiled. Payal threw a pillow at her, "And anyways Jiji, I can handle all this, I wonder how Arnav ji would be, watching over you two. He'll die saying what-the-what-the-what-the!"

"Nothing like that would happen. And it's better if you two don't put your brains to get us together. I like Akash ji, I... love him. But it's necessary we take some time before jumping in to get married. I know, it's not like us... but when it comes to Akash ji I want everything to be perfect." Payal sighed.

There was a lot of ambiguity in their relationship. Payal and Akash hadn't even spoken to each other for more than half an hour, nor had they had a complete idea of who the other person was. She did not want any hindrance, any trouble or any obstacle during their wedding. And God forbid, the storm that his mother was!

"NO WAY!" Manorama yelled. The entire Raizada family gathered in the hall as Akash let them know of his intentions about Payal. Everyone, except Manorama, were glad.

"Maa," Akash, surprisingly calm, held his mother's hand, "What are your reservations about Payal ji? She's cultured, educated, well mannered and has a great personality."

"But she has no class! No money!" Manorama insisted. Arnav looked at Akash and willed himself to stay quiet. With immense confidence he had told Payal that Akash could defend her, now it was time to see it. Especially in her absence.

"And what would I do with more money?" Akash countered.

"No, you don't get it. She will marry you for your money." Manorama argued.

"Did you marry Papa for money?" The family fell silent. Manorama looked away, tears filling her eyes.

"Akash, bitwa, what are you saying. Your mother did not marry me for money." Manohar intervened.

"I know Papa, so how does Maa know that our money is all that Payal wants from me? In fact she has rejected me because of our wealth and class." Manorama looked up, surprised, "And have you ever thought that instead of these Miss Indias I might want a woman like you? A simple woman who married a simple man because she loved him, irrespective of his wealth." Akash said.

"Manorama and simple?" Devyani sneered. Promptly Manorama burst into pails of tears. The entire family groaned.

"Amma," Manohar warned his mother. Of course, there was a stark difference between Payal and Manorama. But there was also a difference between him and his son, Akash. While Akash had the sensibility to take things slowly and detach himself from the Raizada wealth, it was rather the opposite in the case of Manohar.

The minute Manohar saw Manorama he knew he wanted her as his wife. She was loud, boisterous, courageous and extremely ferocious. With a bluntness he saw in very few, she told him she liked the finer things in life. She carried herself with an air that separated her from the other servants. And Manohar was anything but shy. He carried every sense of Raizada in him, flaunting his wealth as a way to get her attention.

Of course, it all changed when they crossed lines and chose to run away and get married - and till now Manorama struggled to mend fences with his mother.

"And Manorama, let's be grateful that our bitwa is speaking to us rather than eloping with Payal bitiya." Manohar stated. Manorama flushed visibly. Clearly, she was outnumbered when it came to deciding Akash's wedding.

"She's not the best person for our Akash." Manorama gave her final argument.

"That... time will tell. He likes her, it's enough. Just like how I liked you." Manohar said, his tone holding a note of finality.

"Don't keep on comparing us with them!" Manorama argued, their relationship was her only weakness.

"Manorama, are any of your arguments different from that of my mother's?" Devyani and Manorama gasped simultaneously. Anjali, Arnav and Akash winced. Out of all the things that Manohar could have said, telling two women who hated each other that they were identical was the worst thing possible.

"Do you think I'm like Manorama?" Devyani seethed.

"And what makes you think I'm like Saasumaa? Am I always ordering the servants? Is the Raizada honor everything for me?" Manorama barked.

"Exactly. And bitwa, tell me which angle of me is obsessed with our class and status in society? Have I pressurized any of my grandsons to marry the way she's been pestering Akash?" Devyani huffed.

"So it's okay if Akash ran away with Payal ji?" Anjali, a silent spectator, finally spoke.

"NO! What will people think!" Manorama and Devyani shrieked, at the same time. Anjali rolled her eyes.

"Yes, you both are not identical." Manohar drawled. Devyani and Manorama glared at him, the sarcasm not missed.

Arnav realized it was time to intervene if his dearest Mama ji wanted to be alive to see any of the family's future weddings.

"Alright everyone. Akash is not getting married tomorrow and it's getting late. We all agree that Payal and Akash are a good match, now let's leave it to the two of them to sort out their issues and give a basis to their relationship. I think the goal of this meeting has been achieved - which is giving Akash our blessings. So let's retire for the day."

Manohar, very wisely, left the room as the two women of his life argued together against him on how they were not identical.

Akash whispered a quick 'thank you' to Arnav. He nodded. Watching Akash handle his mother and the situation with honesty and maturity filled him with pride. He had never been more glad to not be required in a situation.

"But Jiji, nothing starts perfectly. Over time we just learn to handle things better." Khushi advised, "And I know you're mostly worried about 'hello-hi-bye-bye', but give it time Jiji, I think Mami ji is a little crazy but not entirely bad."

"Little?" Payal asked, shuddering at Manorama's insults and outrageous fashion.

"Ok, more than little," Khushi chuckled, "But to think about it, I'm sure Mami ji is annoyed with you because Nani ji is always annoyed with her! When I worked in the Raizada house I realised that Mami ji is like us - she loves item numbers, devours sweets and has no filter in her mouth. If there's a difference it's that money makes no difference for us." Khushi said.

Payal had to agree that Khushi was right. According to Khushi Mami ji was not only the only one to enjoy the Jalebi Bai ringtone prank, but also the one to often give little quips of wit and wisdom every now and then. Probably just like she had stated that Akash didn't know her enough to marry her, she didn't know Manorama enough to finalize her impression on her - even if they had a few, bitter exchanges.

"First impression is never the last impression."

"Hmm," Payal agreed. All the heaviness and uncertainty of her relationship with Akash seemed to fade as the clouds in the night sky. His willingness to be with her, to listen to her, to take time touched Payal's very soul. Arnav's assurance that Akash wouldn't have remained silent gave her hope and butterflies in her stomach.

"Like Arnav ji isn't the way we thought him to be, haina?" Payal braided the rest of her hair on her own and lied on her bed. Khushi remained rooted to her spot, Payal's words haunting her.

"No, he's not." She whispered.

"And look at this, how we've changed. I never thought I would ever tell the man I love to not marry me but- what do you call that- yes, date him! Bua ji would get a heart attack and state that Delhi's uncivilized air has touched us." Payal declared.

"Hai Re Nandkisore! What is this dating waiting? In our days we would only see the photograph - how else do you think I married your Phupha ji?" Khushi swung her braid around her neck and imitated their Bua ji to a perfection.

"Sorry Bua ji, but it's not wrong to take some time, na?" Payal held her ears and apologised to "Bua ji".

Khushi chuckled and flicked her braid aside, "No Jiji, marriage and love is a lifetime commitment. If we take three hours to buy the vegetables we want, then it makes complete sense to at least spend three, proper, weeks to be with the man we want to be. And I'm sure it's different for different people, and some might get their fairy tales. But in reality everyone does not get that opportunity."

Payal looked at her sister who suddenly aged before her. Khushi seemed to be speaking to herself.

"Jiji, we were silly to think fairy tales are real. I, for example, don't have a sweet talking prince charming who'll keep me on top of the moon and stars ." Payal kept quiet.

"In fact my prince-charming is already married - to his anger!" Khushi grumbled. She could still feel his fingers around the flesh of her arm, his nose touching hers and the heat from his gaze. Khushi declared herself as ill to find his anger as another addition to her fondest memories.

How did it matter if he lost all his calm and was shattered at the thought of her getting married to another? How did it matter if she felt the same when he got engaged and made her plan the event?

"Khushi," Payal gently touched her shoulder, "Shyam ji is an angry man?"

Khushi blinked a few times as Payal searched her feelings. Realization began to dawn on Payal, Khushi was not speaking about Shyam.

"E Payaliya! Sanka Devi! Don't you have plans to go to sleep?" Madhumati hollered from the living room, switching off the lights of the house.

"Ji Bua ji!" The girls yelled back and tucked themselves into bed. Payal waited for a few seconds and turned to Khushi but she was fast asleep, snoring slightly. Worried, Payal patted her forehead and went to sleep.

Khushi watched her sister go to sleep and vowed to be more careful when she spoke.

Next Chapter

A/N: I hope you liked this chapter! This story will bite the dust in two more chapters so I'm really looking forward to your notes! Thank you for your time and for reading and don’t hesitate to chat - I love to speak!

Much love (and I pray you and your families are doing well),

P.S: Also read it on: Wattpad

#ipkknd ff #Arshi ff #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #Arnav Singh Raizada #khushi kumari gupta #Akash & Payal #fanfiction #There's more to her

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venmomejoy · 5 years ago

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The Lucky Ones- part 2

Thank you guys for reading!! I hope you like this chapter :)

Read it on AO3 here !!!

part one / part three / part four

As soon as Neil made it back into his interim home, he spent hours pouring over the script Kevin had given him. Neil immersed himself in the pages of dialogue and stage directions, allowing himself to leave Neil Josten for a while and slip into the mind of Alex Howell.

The Foxes was a lot different than Evermore. Where Evermore focused on magic and fantasy elements, The Foxes had a modern setting, with no supernatural aspects. Rather than flashy effects and gripping action scenes, The Foxes depicted the messy lives and relationships of the students at Palmetto High School, specifically how they interact and respond in the wake of the murder of a classmate, all the while navigating friendship and romance and identity. Neil will be playing Alex, a transfer student who is chock-full of secrets, and seems to know more than he is letting on. The irony wasn't lost on Neil.

He tried to get some sleep, but only managed to toss and turn for a few hours, restlessness forcing his eyes open. Early morning light was just beginning to filter through the windows when Neil inspected the contents of his duffel bag, ensuring all of his belongings were still inside. He never unpacked the thing, or left it out of his sight long enough for someone to go through it, but he would rather be safe than sorry. He couldn't afford to lose these things; he would be completely alienated from all of his connections and resources if he did, losing contacts for quality fake IDs and coordinates for stashes of cash.

Neil desperately needed to run, craving the blankness of mind that comes with pushing his body to its limits, but unfortunately, abandoned houses weren't equipped with running water, and he thought it was probably bad form to show up for his first day sticky with dried sweat, for as soon as they landed in L.A., they would be heading straight to set so Neil could meet the cast and crew.

If the pale pink light coloring the walls was any indication, it was far too early for Wymack to retrieve him, but Neil was too agitated to lie around any longer. He settled for a walk, needing some sort of outlet for the nervousness slowly eating through his sanity. Motion had always been Neil's most conformable state; running was what he was used to, what kept him safe. There was comfort in it- in movement, he was always in a position to escape. Sitting still left him vulnerable. It was in stillness that he could be cornered.

Swinging his duffel bag over his shoulder, Neil turned and took one last look at the house. It was dingy, stains littering the ceiling and carpet, paint peeling off in large chunks, but Neil had kept it pretty clean. No one would suspect he had been squatting there for the past three and a half months. Neil took off without a backwards glance.

With hours to kill, Neil practically covered the entirety of the town as he walked. Residential streets eventually gave way to businesses- restaurants, doctors offices', the lone grocery store. Neil let his gaze dart around, checking for anyone hidden in the shadows, any strange cars passing him on the road. He knew this was a bad idea. Joining one of the most prominent shows on television was the exact opposite of what Neil needed to be doing if he wanted to stay alive. He needed to live in obscurity, and instead, he was pushing himself into the brightest spotlight he could find. Not to mention the fact that his personal life would be put on blast; the media loved to dredge up celebrities' private information. He wasn't sure his story would hold up under that kind of scrutiny. But he needed something, something to ground him, to sate this hunger for more than just survival.

Soon enough, the town started waking up. The streets began filling as people drove to work or dropped their kids off at school. There was a good amount of people walking as well, the town so small that it was easy enough to walk most everywhere you needed to go. Several people smiled as they passed Neil, some even waving in greeting; Neil instinctively dropped his head, letting his dark brown curls shield his face. Neil took the growing activity in town as indication that he should probably head towards the theater to meet Wymack.

Within ten minutes Neil found himself at the front of the theater. The building was deserted- no one had business at the theater at eight a.m. on a Monday morning. Neil sat on the concrete steps leading to the building, his knee bouncing as he waited for the ride that would take him away from this life, away from all he'd ever known.

The theater sat directly across from the high school. From where he was sitting, Neil could see the students lounging outside the building, chatting with their friends, waiting until the last possible minute to run into class. He had chosen to make Neil Josten eighteen when he moved here, even though he would not actually turn eighteen for five more months, so he had never been inside the school. Neil had been disconsolate when he arrived here; in the midst of altering his entire lifestyle so it would function without his mother, he didn't have it in him to bother with school. He also didn't want to worry about forging parental consent, which worked out well for Wymack's offer- being eighteen allowed him to sign the contract and work on set without required notification and consent of a guardian.

A honk startled Neil from his thoughts, his hands flying to his bag as his muscles tensed to run, but he relaxed at the sight of Wymack behind the wheel. Kevin was staring unabashedly at Neil as he stalks over to the black suburban. He slid into the backseat next to Andrew, and the smile he shot Neil was nothing short of venomous. Neil kept his face blank as he averted his eyes.

It was Kevin who spoke first. "Where is your stuff?"

"This is it." Neil tightened his grip on his bag as Kevin eyed it.

"Do you want to put it in the trunk?" Wymack asked. "We have a bit of a drive to the airport."

"I'm fine with it here."He could tell he had piqued Andrew's interest, could feel his eyes roving over his bag with renewed interest, but refused to acknowledge him. He could not give Andrew any indication of what this bag held, any reason to be curious about his belongings.

"Suit yourself," Wymack said, pulling the car onto the road. After moments of silence, he spoke up again. "So, Neil, you're familiar with The Foxes?"

"Sort of. I've seen a couple episodes." Without television or internet access, it was hard to find opportunities to watch.

"Wow, too good to act with us, and too good to even watch the show? You've wounded my pride, Neil," Andrew drawled from beside him.

Neil's jaw clenched, willing himself to maintain his docile persona. He didn't need to draw any unnecessary attention to himself, and certainly didn't need any enemies as dangerous as Andrew Minyard, if the stories about him were to be believed. "It's not that, we just didn't have internet access at my house."

"Your parents spend all that time working and they still can't afford internet?" Neil just looked at the blond, unable to come up with a response.

"Andrew," Wymack warned.

"We're all trying to figure out what the deal with your parents is. Well, I am, at least. My money's on them beating you, but Kevin and Wymack aren't the betting sort, so I'll have to take my wager elsewhere." Neil snapped his head up, meeting Andrew's taunting gaze. Neil knows he's just trying to provoke him, but it still unnerves him how close Andrew was to the truth after knowing Neil for an hour, if even.

"Jesus, Andrew," Wymack groans. "Cut the shit or I'll sign you up for the next marathon."

"I'm quaking in my boots." Andrew busts out in a fit of laughter that no one else joins.

Entirely ignoring Andrew's comments, Kevin steers the conversation back towards the show. "You'll need to watch the first two seasons before we can even think about beginning production." He twists in his seat to look at Neil. "Everything builds on itself in television; the plot of this season will be in direct correlation to the plot of the previous ones. It's important that you understand everything that has already happened, how the other characters behave and interact, so you can properly play your role. A lot of characters' backstories and personalities have already been explored in the earlier seasons, and everything that occurs in season three will be written with the expectation that the audience has seen the previous episodes and already knows these facts; we cannot repeat things for you. So these two weeks, while you familiarize yourself with the cast and the inner workings of screen acting, you will watch the show. Then we can get started on the actual acting.”

Neil knew all of this, of course, and was vaguely annoyed that Kevin was speaking to him like he was stupid, but he had told them he had no experience with screen acting, and an amateur would be hanging onto his every word. Unable to stoop that low, Neil settled on schooling his features into neutrality and offering a nod of understanding. But there was still another issue:

"How am I going to watch it?" Without a phone or a computer, there was no way for him to stream anything.

"You'll be staying with us in the cast house, and we have TVs there that you can use," Kevin said, either unaware of or ignoring Neil's confused stare.

Before he could ask Kevin about the cast house, Andrew spoke up. "Haven't you heard, Neil? We all live together during filming. One big, happy family." Laughter bubbles out of Andrew's chest.

This posed new complications for Neil. On one hand, he wouldn't have to waste as much money on housing and the like. He had been nervous about blowing so much of his resources on a house, since he imagined he wouldn't be able to get away with squatting on abandoned property with so many people watching him. He would probably still have to pay a portion of the rent and utilities, but it would be far less than he was expecting, and that lifted a weight off of his shoulders. On the other, it would make it a lot harder for Neil to keep things confidential. Not only would he be at risk for people looking through his things, if he had to run he would have a whole crowd of people to sneak past. He would have to keep his guard up all the time; one slip-up could cost him his life, and he would no longer have a space to drop his act.

The conversation dwindled after that, and the airport appeared sooner than Neil had anticipated. After checking their bags and going through security, the four of them walked to their gate and boarded the plane almost immediately. Neil was surprised to be seated first class; it made sense, he supposed, since he was flying with an acclaimed director and two of the most famous actors in Hollywood, but Neil had only ever flown in the economy class, he and his mother always opting for the cheapest option possible. The plush seats were roomier than the firm, cramped ones Neil had known.

He was sat with Wymack, Kevin and Andrew sitting together across the aisle. From what he'd heard in the news, Andrew and Kevin were practically inseparable, one hardly ever being seen without the other. If they were as close as the media seems to think, Neil understood why they choose to sit together, but Neil couldn't help a little stab of resentment when he realized they had left him with Wymack. He didn't have anything against the man, but he had a deep-seated fear of any man that was close to his father's age, and Wymack fit the description. Neil tensed as soon as Wymack fell into the seat next to him, his instincts revolting at the idea of sitting in close quarters with him. Neil clasped his hands tightly in his lap, willing his muscles to relax. After the plane plateaued in the air, Neil pulled out his script and begins analyzing the lines, chunks beginning to stick in his memory.

"It's important to read the entire script, so you know what is happening in the show as a whole, but after getting a general understanding of the episode's plot you should focus on your scenes. I know in theatre you have months of rehearsals to nail your lines, but screen acting is far more condensed. You have a couple of weeks now, but typically actors get the script only days before they begin filming. No need wasting brain space on scenes you are not even in."

Neil suppressed an eye roll at Wymack's unsolicited advice. His director filled the first half of the flight preparing Neil for what he would face when he arrived in L.A., explaining what the set would look like and how a typical day of filming would go. It had been many years since Neil had been on a set, and he had been a child at that, so he gladly absorbed all the information Wymack gave him. He told him a little bit about the main cast, and he told him that he and the rest of the cast will have biweekly meetings with their acting coach, Abby, courtesy of Kevin. Apparently, Kevin thought their biggest issue was that they acted as individuals, not as a team. In a scene, the actors need to draw from each other's energies and emotions to make the connection authentic, and Kevin's been working on making the cast more in sync. He and Wymack eventually settled into silence, Neil reading his script and Wymack typing away on his laptop.

The flight was pretty short, only two hours of airtime before they were landing in LAX. The drive to the studio was quiet, the occasional comment fading into silence. Neil was staring out the window, taking in the scenery of his new home. It was dirtier than he expected, but still nice. He assumed the beautiful scenery always seen in movies was towards the beaches, not in the middle of urban life, so he cut the city some slack. The sheer amount of people he saw passing by had him clutching his duffel bag tighter. It was too easy to get lost in a city this big, to disappear and have no one notice you're gone until it's too late. Neil had been looking over his shoulder his whole life, but that isn't always enough when people are coming from all sides.

They drove through security at the studio, providing authorization before parking in Wymack's designated spot. As Neil swung out of the car, he spotted a brown-skinned boy sprinting towards him, a grin breaking out on his face. If the curls didn't give the man's identity away, his personality did: Nicky Hemmick was bubbly beyond belief, his excitement making Neil vaguely uncomfortable. Walking at a much slower pace behind Nicky was a carbon copy of Andrew- his twin, Aaron.

"You must be Neil," Nicky panted, sticking his hand out for Neil to shake when he got close enough. "How was your trip? I hope Kevin and Andrew didn't soil your opinion of us; I swear, the rest of us have manners."

Andrew feigned hurt. "Here I was, expecting a touching reunion, and this is what I'm met with? Slander, and from my own cousin!"

"It was fine," Neil said.

"That's good to hear. I'm Nicky, by the way. I play Henry." Nicky's character had always been a fan favorite; many people found themselves relating to the sweet gay kid and the adversity he faced as he came out.

Neil pulls up a quick smile. "It's nice to meet you."

Aaron didn't so much as acknowledge Neil when he looked over at him. Wymack's gruff voice spoke up. "Is everyone else inside?"

Nicky nodded. "Anxiously awaiting our newest member," he said, sending a wink Neil's way.

With that, Kevin strode forward and Neil followed him into the building, Wymack, Nicky, and the twins flanking him. Kevin was pointing things out as they walked- where the bathrooms were, where the craft service was located- and eventually led him into the lounge, where the rest of the cast was sitting. Almost all of them stood as Neil entered, a tall boy with spiky black hair approaching him first.

“Matt Boyd," he said, extending his hand. "Wymack showed us some videos of you performing, you seem like you have real talent. We're excited to work with you."

"Speak for yourself," Aaron muttered from behind him.

"Thank you," Neil responded to Matt. The man only clapped him on the shoulder, not noticing the way Neil stiffened under the contact.

Matt pointed to the short-haired girl standing behind him, a fierce smile on her face. "This is Dan, our fearless leader." Dan Wilds played Kayla, the shows main protagonist.

"And that is Renee," he said sweeping his hand to a girl with a kind face and rainbow-tipped hair, before moving onto a couple, the girl sitting on the boy's lap, his hands running idly over her thighs. "And the PDA show stars Allison and Seth. Those two are always all over each other. Well, unless their fighting. Then you won't see them speaking unless it's to hurl insults at each other."

"We can hear you, dick," Seth seethes.

Dan steps forward, halting the brewing fight before it could take off. "It's really good to meet you, Neil. Kevin said you have already started looking at the script?"

"Yeah, I studied it last night, and on the flight."

"Perfect, we want you to be as prepared as possible for your first time on set. We have a training session with Abby tomorrow, so that will give us an opportunity to feel out where you are in your skills and how you naturally work with all of us. We can go from there." Neil simply nodded.

"The table read for the episode one will be in two weeks," Wymack says. "In that time, Neil, you need to be caught up on the show and familiar with the set. These guys will all help you if you have any questions. Now, I've got paperwork to do, so you maggots do something useful for once and show Neil around." With that, he strode out of the room.

Neil stood their awkwardly for a moment, unsure what to say, but Dan quickly came to his rescue. "Let's go, Neil. We can take you by your trailer so you can drop your stuff off, and then we'll show you the inner workings of a television set."

Neil followed Dan, with Matt, Allison, Seth, and Renee coming as well, but turned back to look at the group he was leaving behind. Kevin, Nicky, and Aaron were paying him no mind, not even noticing his gaze, but he found Andrew's eyes already on his. Andrew's intense gaze never wavered as a slow smile spread across his face. When Neil didn't break his stare, Andrew cocked his head to the side, flicking his fingers in a mocking goodbye.

Neil had the feeling he would be seeing a lot more of Andrew. And he doubted it would be friendly.

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revisionaryhistory · 5 years ago

Text

Three Days ~ 3

AO3

~*~Sebastian~*~

I straightened my clothes when I got out of the SUV. I realize my first impression is already shot to hell, but I'm attempting to make up some ground. In front of her door I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths before knocking. I tried to re-frame my sudden nervousness as excitement. When she opened the door two things happened. My mouth started to water and my jeans shrank at least one size.

I went with it. "You look beautiful." I kept my voice soft and smiled.

The peach shirt and white jacket set off her eyes and slightly tanned skin. I liked the slight swell of her breasts showing out the top of her shirt. Just sexy enough. I mean, I have nothing against naked breasts, rather like them, but this was a good first date look. Believe it or not, there is such a thing as too much. And there's time and place for more. This wasn't it.

Emma smiled and put her hand on my bicep, "Thank you. You clean up nicely."

I laughed, "I didn't really pack for a dinner date."

"I thought you might be limited, so I went with jeans."

My head jerked a little in surprise. "That's really nice. Thank you." I had to stop myself from staring. I'm not sure what I'm more amazed by: her kindness or the ease with which she speaks about her thought process. She says it like it's no big deal, but it is. Or maybe I'm more jaded than I thought. I snapped myself out of my thoughts, "Ready to go?" She nodded and I put my hand on her lower back, leading her to the vehicle.

I started backing out and remembered I didn't know where we were going. I put on the brake, rested my hands on the steering wheel, and looked over, "Which way? Where we going?"

"I had two ideas. In town there's a pub. Typical pub food. Bar on one side. Restaurant on the other. Probably live music, but its not loud on the restaurant side. Or about five miles north there's a place on the river with outdoor tables. They specialize in ribs and barbecue, but have everything from steak to seafood."

"Outside on the river sounds good. Nice night for it." I pointed at the navigation screen. "You put it in. Then we can talk without getting lost."

She laughed, "Are you sure we haven't met before? I'd completely get talking and forget to tell you where to turn."

"I think I'd remember." I smiled and watched her press the buttons. Her nails where longer than her fingertips. Long enough to feel, but not so long as to do damage. I should probably stop thinking like that or my my pants are going to shrink more.

"How is the moving going?"

"Good. They hired movers for the actual move. I'm here to shift boxes to other rooms, hook up electronics, and hang things. I think mom used the move as an excuse to get me to visit. When my step-dad retired they moved upstate. Now they're closer again, so it'll be easier."

"Are you an only child?"

"I am. Mom and I left Romania when I was eight then moved to New York when I was twelve." I didn't know if she knew my history or not. It was very vain to think she'd googled and read interviews. I wasn't sure if she was a fan. I liked how my job wasn't part of the conversation. That couldn’t last, but it was nice for now. "What about you?"

“I have an identical twin. Amelia.”

I don't think she was done talking, but I burst in. “That's so cool. Emiliana and Amelia. Did you switch around to fuck with teachers and boyfriends?”

An evil grin crossed her face. “All the time. Our parents mostly. They could never tell us apart. They tell this story about how my dad was so sleep deprived that he forgot to put on our color coded booties and they're not one hundred percent sure which one we really are.”

“Oh fuck! Priceless.”

“Once we hit our junior year Amy cut her hair and started dying it red. If we wanted to pull anything off we had to pull our hair up and shove on a hat. She's got a daughter now and since we're identical twins Katie is genetically my daughter too.”

My mouth dropped open, "I'd never thought of that." I raised my eyebrows, "Never been out with a mom before."

"First time for everything."

We laughed and conversation was easy the rest of the short drive. She pointed out the river walk and restaurant as we drove across the bridge. I was thinking an after dinner stroll was a good idea.

It was early enough that getting a table by the water wasn't a problem. Either the time or the hostess recognized me. She sat us in the corner of the deck with water on both sides. It was a beautiful view. My date and the scenery. Date was better. Before the hostess left she looked at me, "I'll send your server right over, Mr. Stan."

I guess that answers that.

There was a drink menu on the table. I picked it up and looked at Emma, "Do you drink?" She nodded and I handed her the menu. "A beer on the water sounds good."

The server showed up, took our drink orders, and by the time she brought our beers we were ready to order. There was a lull in conversation between discussing the menu and whatever was going to come next. We both took a drink to fill the space. I pulled at the label on my bottle nervously. "What do you for a living?" I knew I was opening the door for the same question, but it was the next logical topic.

"I teach first grade."

I never had a teacher who looked like her. "Why first?" I liked finding out why people made the choices they did.

"I like teaching the little people to read. Kindergartners are too squirrelly. There's a lot of time just teaching them how to be in school. Lots of crying in Kindergarten. Fifth graders are starting to be smart asses."

I nearly spit my beer across the table.

She laughed and handed me a napkin from the dispenser on the table, "They are! The hormones are starting to kick in. No thank you. Third and fourth are assessment years and it's all about getting them ready. Second is this weird hybrid where you're reteaching what they missed in first and getting their basic skills ready for third." She took a drink and continued. "First graders are perfect. They get so excited when they can put sounds together to make words and then read the words in a book. Or when they figure out three plus two is the same as counting three stars and two stars, figuring out the algorithm. I love teaching them to subitize. That’s knowing how many things there are without counting them. We play songs and games. Their little faces light up and they're so proud of themselves. The ones who struggle. It's hard to figure out how to help them and keep their confidence up. They break my heart." She put her hand over hers.

Her love of what she did was obvious. I couldn't remember talking to a teacher after I left school. My teachers just tortured me with homework, papers, projects, and group work. I shook my head, "Until right this second I had never thought of a teacher being excited about their students learning."

"You either had shitty teachers or hated school."

"Both." I looked up, searching my memory. "Leaving Romania was good, but I didn't speak anything but Romanian. I was a good student, but when we moved to Vienna I had to start over. I couldn't communicate. I couldn't read. It was hard. Mom threw a fit because my teachers used the language issue to not push me. She wasn’t having it. Then we moved here and it was starting over again. I was in that awkward stage, had at least three chins, didn't have any friends, and could barely speak English."

She cringed, "I don’t like your teachers. You have to work harder. There's always kids with stories. Whether they’re new, or a parent has died, or they don't speak English, or they've been abused, or they’re just different. You have to work harder to find a way to connect with them and be different for them. You have to have the relationship to help them learn. I'm not going to lie, sometimes you don't like a kid, but that's the job. You're the adult. Figure out how to make it work."

"Yeah, I didn't have teachers like you. It got better. Puberty helped and so did partying." I smirked around my beer bottle as I drank. "My teachers didn't look like you either. Would have paid more attention if they had. Well, maybe not paid attention, but enjoyed class more."

Her shoulders raised a little and one side of her mouth curled up, "Want me to teach you to read or something, Seb?"

"Now there's a loaded question." She’s still figuring out what to call me. Fuck. I might be sad when she figures it out and sticks to one name.

Luckily or unluckily our appetizers arrived. The flirting was fun, but we’re early into dinner. Lots of time for flirting. Good to mix it up.

We'd ordered a sampler. I picked up one of the fried pickles, "There's a place in Atlanta where these are called frickle pickles."

"I grew up in Alpharetta."

"Did you? I've spent a lot of time in Atlanta." I kept going without even thinking. "The Marvel movies filmed there and most of Falcon and the Winter Soldier will be filmed there." I stopped with a pickle about to my mouth. "Umm."

"There's the elephant in the room." Emma popped a french fry covered in cheese and bacon in her mouth.

I chewed my pickle slowly to buy a little time. What for I don't know. It's awkward. I wiped off my hands and finished my beer. "I was enjoying ignoring the elephant." I leaned forward onto the table. "I liked just being a guy on a date."

"You still are." The look on her face was showed she was amused.

I liked that she wasn’t taking the topic seriously. I'm pissed I brought it up. We were doing fine getting to know each other without the complications of what I do. No one explains that part to you in acting school. You just learn about the craft, business, and what not to do an audition. They don't teach you about someone posting a picture of you laying shirtless in the park. You're doing what everyone else is doing, but if you were anyone else no one would care about you laying in the park getting some sun. This is why actors, and models, and sports stars date other actors, and models, and sports stars. All of those things which become a normal part of your life are normal for them too. It's not normal to other people. And until I mentioned filming in Atlanta I was having a damn fine time being a guy helping his parents move.

I want to fucking scream.

I drummed my fingers beside the plate. "I liked being the homeless guy you met in the baking aisle."

She frowned and put her hand over mine, "I didn't think you were homeless. There's a rehab facility up the road. I thought you were an addict stopping for chocolate before checking in. To help with the withdrawal."

I threw my head back and laughed hard. "Even better!" I turned my hand over, holding her fingers, and rubbing my thumb over her soft skin. "Can I go back to being that guy?"

“You're still the sweet guy running errands for his mom. The one I waited for at the check out. Before I knew his name or recognized him."

My eyes were wide and I was doing that thing I do where I'm licking my lips and playing with my tongue. That can mean lots of things. Right now is intrigued with a side of slightly nervous.

"It's going to be hard to get to know you if you don't tell me about your friends and what you do with your downtime."

She had a good point. I wasn't sure what my plan had been. Her talking about herself all night wasn't going to work. "I can do that. Talk about my friends."

Things have gotten more complicated. Not for the reason I expected. We've pretty much worked around the how do I be an ordinary man with a not so ordinary job problem. Now the problem is I'm holding her hand. It's soft and warm and I don't want to let go. I want to stay touching her. I can not figure out how we're going to eat.

#Sebastian Stan #fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfiction

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zen-garden-gnome · 5 years ago

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REALLY investigating the debate over vaccines (from a lay-person’s perspective).

I want to unravel some things about the vaccination debate, following days of research into the matter. It wasn’t enough for me to know how I felt, already. I didn’t think my personal relationships had to suffer maximally in order for me to live honestly. So I decided to dig in and make myself more knowledgeable, and to let myself empathize with more people. There was so much to cipher through and it took so much time that I had to take notes to help keep things connected. The process reminded me that the internet is not as easily traversed for all its users, and that in the end, the “vibe” one picks up decides a lot of what we’re willing to follow any deeper (particularly, whether or not we even notice a “vibe” in the first place). Zooming way out also reminded me of just how many “entry points” there are for this subject, and helped me empathize with a lot of people. It turns out, “anti-vaxxer” is a term applied to people across a pretty wide range of subtly differing perspectives. I think we can all agree that the despair and disgust and distrust the world is experiencing won’t improve if we can’t get our attention back, ‘cause that’s largely what this is about. We are inundated with so much manipulative information that we struggle to steer our attention toward the core values that we mostly share, which takes us further and further away from each other’s realities. We know less and less about each other but think we know so much more because we’re surrounded by manipulative/self-preserving chatter.

I wanted to cut through the noise and show where some things connect, and where some others only appear to. For anyone who knows there’s a lot going on but doesn’t know where to begin approaching it. For anyone who feels on the fence in any way. For anyone who feels isolated by their view of the circumstances. For anyone who struggles to understand why so-and-so would think such-and-such. For anyone who thinks they already know. For anyone with even a passing curiosity. And of course, for myself. I’ve worked to collect and organize this for all and anyone. I do my best to stay objective without pretending I don’t have my own opinions. My research wound up focusing on a few key people and their research, the theories that have arisen, the science used to address them, and the demographics who are the most moved by it all. This is an entire research paper and I had no idea it would go this far when I started.

Judy Mikovits is a former medical researcher and current anti-vaccination advocate. She has some valid criticisms of how the US government handled the release of treatments for HIV and for the poor ways people treat their immune systems. She claims in her book (and in a viral video that recently hit the internet at the kick-off of the COVID-19 pandemic in the US) that Anthony Fauci barred her from continuing her research at the National Institute of Health (he denies this). She refers to the COVID-19 pandemic in quotes ("pandemic"), refuses to wear face masks, and discourages others from doing so because she thinks that taking care of one’s own immune system and cleanliness is all she should need to do, by her own words. Vaccines (and just temporarily breathing in more of one’s own carbon dioxide) aren’t worth the risk, she says. Mikovits has spoken at numerous anti-vaccination events and her retracted papers are frequently referenced in their propaganda (and there’s no denying it’s propaganda).

When she was a virologist and medical researcher, Judy started working to uncover viral causes of diseases when she was hired by a couple whose child had Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and wanted to find the cause. The work she published in Science magazine about proposed retro-viral causes of CFS in 2009 was retracted when peers from 9 separate labs failed to get the same results and negated her findings (and when two of her co-authors reported that their patient samples had been contaminated by the virus in the lab, as opposed to the virus already being in the samples). Two years later she was fired from her job over the quality of her work and control of her lab samples, which seems relevant considering the apparent reason why her 2009 results were supposedly wrong. She was arrested and tried for stealing lab equipment and documentation when she left. She returned some of the lab notes and the criminal charges were dismissed.

Judy continues to reference her outdated research to this day (the research about specific retroviruses causing some specific diseases). Now she’s using her debunked data to fire up her main argument: that up to 30% of modern vaccines are “contaminated” with retroviruses and the government is trying to cover up a dangerous problem with its vaccines, putting everyone at risk (especially young children who get a large host of vaccines in a relatively short period of time).

This was where I knew I had to learn more about how viruses and vaccines interact with our bodies. A retrovirus is commonly called an RNA virus, which is a virus that uses a host cell to replicate its viral RNA as DNA. This is the opposite of what DNA viruses do, which is to use the host cell to replicate their DNA as RNA. An RNA/retro-virus also has a type of enzyme that allows it to insert its new DNA into the host cell’s DNA. This altered genetic information can lead to increased erroneous cell production, which increases the likelihood of developing cancer and other diseases depending on where the viral DNA is injected into a host cell’s DNA. Whatever gene is changed may cease to function, leading to disease. For example, HIV is a retrovirus that results in a syndrome that makes one prone to all kinds of diseases.

As it turns out, some vaccines do contain retroviruses! And it also turns out that that’s ok. Sometimes that’s part of the genetic material virologists are working with. Some of our vaccines are only possible with that genetic material. The presence of a retrovirus doesn’t necessary do anything to the vaccine. The vaccinations don’t infect patients with retroviruses because the retroviruses found in the vaccine are non-infectious. It’s an extremely important part of how a good vaccine functions. Viruses can cause diseases, but vaccines don’t contain live infectious material. That’s why there were no reported issues with retroviral infection by our vaccine safety systems (systems that exist because vaccines have never been perfect and always have some potential for side effects, so their risk factors are studied thoroughly). When the technology was available to investigate the retroviruses previously unknown to have existed in the MMR vaccine, they were confirmed to be non-hazardous.

Mikovits is clearly a knowledgeable professional in her field and has some valid opinions/points about health, medicine, and federal failures. But her identity seems to be wrapped up with the debunked research that changed her career, and no professional knows everything, even in their field. The wrongness isn’t my concern. It’s what she’s doing with it, and the fact that she’s ignoring the research negating her old findings.

Kent Heckenlively is the co-author of Judy's new book, and an anti-vaccination activist. The fact that he's also a lawyer really stands out to me. The founders of the Westboro Baptist Church (the "God Hates F*gs" group) are ex-lawyers who use their offensive protests to rile people up and then sue them for "hindering their rights." It's how they make their money. Anyway, Kent is co-founder of a group called Age of Autism, which claims to be dedicated to helping kids and families with autism. But as you can probably tell by the name of the group, they're much more concerned with the fact that they perceive a dangerous uptick in autism statistics (an issue that’s related much more to the evolving access and categorization of statistics and disorders than anything else). Age of Autism doesn’t actually tend to involve people on the autism spectrum in their work (other than to use them as examples), and their focus is not on helping (or even understanding) those with autism, but on getting rid of autism--as if the spectrum of conditions related to autism was a single “disease,” and as if it’s unacceptable that people exist with those conditions (more on that later).

As autism has increasingly become a recognized "condition," it's diagnosis has become more common, and because it's really only diagnosed based on social behavior, it may go unnoticed prior to ~18 months, if it’s noticed at all. Many more people live "on the spectrum" than we ever know (did you know Sir Anthony Hopkins is also on the spectrum?), and before it was more widely recognized, we had all kinds of names (and institutions) for people living with more severe effects. Kent's daughter was diagnosed with autism at around the age that she got some of her vaccines, which led the distraught father to believe it was vaccine related. Sometimes people do have mild reactions to vaccines (nothing’s perfect), and I can understand parents being scared and hurt for their children. I can also understand questioning various authorities. We know good and well that governments use poisons (Agent Orange in Vietnam), diseases (smallpox in the colonies, syphilis at Tuskegee), and vaccines as playing cards in their efforts to control people/power (we saw it again when Trump tried to get exclusive rights to the Coronavirus vaccine being researched in Germany). But lots of people see “Thing 1 Happens, Thing 2 Happens After, Which Must Mean Thing 1 Caused Thing 2.” Unsurprisingly, people can develop identities that revolve around getting rid of the "disease" of autism.

But Autism is not a disease. Autism is an umbrella term for a range of neuro divergences (to be diagnosed you have to hit like... 4 out of a possible 15 some-odd behavioral checkmarks), and issues like those relate to aaaallll sorts of things. Things that people with autism talk about often. If anti-vaccination organizations actually advocated for people with autism, they’d let people with autism advocate for themselves. Because people with autism do self-advocate, and they take umbrage with groups like Autism Speaks and Age of Autism. People on the autism spectrum often have lots to say about the agendas of these groups and the resources that are taken from the those who actually need them. From the Autistic Self Advocacy Network: “While no link exists between autism and vaccines, of greater concern is the willingness of those who promote this theory to suggest that exposing children to deadly diseases would be a better outcome than an autistic child. Vaccinations do not cause autism – but the use of autism as a means of scaring parents from safeguarding their children from life-threatening illness demonstrates the depths of prejudice and fear that still surrounds our disability. Autism is not caused by vaccines – and Autistic Americans deserve better than a political rhetoric that suggests that we would be better off dead than disabled.”

Folks on the spectrum sometimes have lots to say about the toxic living conditions of their childhoods, too. About neglect and abuse and trauma. It’s important to keep in mind that the behavioral issues tied to autism are also the behavioral conditions often tied to things like PTSD and ADHD, both of which relate to life events/patterns. As a teacher, I’ve learned a lot about the links between developmental/behavioral problems and the (dis)ability of parents to respond to their children based on their children’s needs (rather than primarily on the parent’s own traumas). For young children, especially with any kind of special need (a very broad term), simply navigating through a world that’s inflexible with their needs can be traumatic. Our environmental conditions can even effect how our genes are expressed over time (literally, sometimes time IS the trigger for gene expression). Everything is born out of its environment—out of our food, our water, our sense of security, our parents’ genes, everything.

Which brings me to one of the biggest stories in the vaccination debate: that of Hannah Poling. I bring this up because this is the one I was most familiar with, and the one I empathized with the most--particularly because there was a court case related to it. When she was 19 months old, she received 5 vaccines, and two days later her parents reported new behavior—lethargy, irritation, and fever. Months later, she was diagnosed with mitochondrial enzyme deficit (MED), which means the conditions she displayed were also contained within the autism spectrum. Her parents successfully sued for compensation under the Vaccine Injury Compensation Plan, a program started by the federal government to address public concerns of vaccine safety in light of the noise raised by anti-vaccination groups in the 80s. However, MED is an autosomal recessive disease, which means both of Hannah’s parents had to carry the gene in order for her to get it. She already had it, and either it hadn’t expressed itself yet, or her parents hadn’t noticed (or reported) the symptoms so early in her development. Indeed, the Poling case only claimed that her vaccines exacerbated her symptoms, but this raises 4 important points: 1) There’s no evidence that this is possible, and not because “no one’s looked.” 2) We should really think critically about whether or not we should withhold treatment for diseases like smallbox and whooping cough under the unfounded notion that some vaccines may exacerbate existing conditions, 3) under-reported is the fact that Hannah presented other immunological challenges prior to her vaccinations, and 4) despite a popular claim made by anti-vaccination groups, there’s actually no evidence that multiple simultaneous vaccines can overwhelm an immune system.

That last one was really important to me, because I had read years ago that a child’s immune system was potentially too underdeveloped to handle so many vaccinations. The notion seemed logical enough, and I felt awful for parents who had these real fears. But it turns out, the immune system of an infant has the potential capacity to respond to thousands of vaccines simultaneously. It has to! Babies are RAW, lol. And it turns out, medical researchers can be pretty damn thorough, so they knew this well before they were delivering grouped vaccines to toddlers. And while the number of vaccines given to children has increased, they contain even fewer antigens than they used to thanks to medical improvements.

But I have another name. Andrew Wakefield was stripped of his medical license in Britain and came to America, where he became a prominent anti-vaccination activist. He published findings in Britain in the mid 90s that claimed that measles (and “therefore” its vaccine) caused Crohn's disease, but peer research failed to repeat his findings and his claims were subsequently debunked. After shifting his focus to the measles vaccine and autism, he wound up leaving the school of medicine where he worked (under “mutual agreement” at the school's request), because he repeatedly refused to re-attempt the research which had formed the basis of his initial claims. Andrew moved to America to continue pushing his theory that measles and its vaccine caused autism, despite already admitting that it was "not proved." He's barred from practicing medicine in the UK and is not licensed in the US.

I bring up Wakefield because the fuss he raised lead scientists and doctors to look into these claims. It makes sense for these potential issues to matter to the medical community, after all. All resulting work refuted any connections between autism and these vaccines. Luckily, this work also looked into some other claims about vaccines, too, such as the concern that mercury in vaccines could cause autism or other conditions. Ethylmercury is used in the preservative thimerosal, which prevents bacterial growth in vaccines. Methylmercury (the mercury found in fish) can be highly toxic to people, while ethylmercury clears more quickly from the body--so quickly that the small quantities used in vaccines don't have time to build up or cause any problems, other than the possibility of a red rash at the injection site (and the fact that, inevitably, some people are allergic to it). However, given the rising concern in the late 90's and gradual improvements in medical science, the use of ethylmercury in vaccines was reduced in 2001, and for childhood vaccines was completely eliminated. Despite this, it remains a popular concern.

There are so many other people and cases and theories, but these seemed to be the big ones.

...But there’s one more variable I need to dissect: The general focus on eradicating autism, as opposed to supporting the autistic. Parents and their supporters are trying to find the right thing to do. It’s their earnest desire to overcome the problems they’ve been led to see, and their energy is being funneled away from them and used against all our best interests. (Perhaps it’s worth considering, too, where everyone else’s energy is being funneled these days…) For me, this is the variable that’s hardest to talk about, because it asks people to look at their own shadows with acceptance and forgiveness.

The development/behaviors of people on the spectrum aren’t necessarily “wrong,” but we’re subtly and explicitly told to see them this way. Many of these behaviors/developments are very natural responses to toxic/inhumane social and environmental conditions and expectations (some of them are even specifically considered evolutionary pros, traits that help people survive these environs), albeit at times difficult to interact with and other times self-destructive. Everything has extremes. And between environments and genetics, parents aren’t always able to recognize the myriad little things that might contribute to developmental and/or behavioral issues. Since so many of these things lie on the autistic spectrum, “autism” becomes a target in and of itself. Parents may see their children as victims of a toxic world, and they may see themselves as strong shoulders under (secretly) unwanted circumstances. Many parents also feel that “no good parent would ever feel that way, so I don’t either.” This kind of inner conflict is incredibly difficult for people to deal with, but the truth is, conflicting thoughts and emotions are perfectly normal. Emotions are valid and thoughts don’t define us. Both are fleeting. Feeling like we’re not “allowed” to feel conflicted makes us feel guilty/bitter/both. (Tested by God” and “blessed by God” have the same ring, sometimes.)

Some parents also experience guilt/bitterness over the possibility of being part of the environmental/genetic (especially genetic) circumstances that contributed to a child’s disorders. Or, guilt over having been unable to bring them into an accepting or supportive society. Plus the guilt over being sometimes unhappy with the resulting circumstances of one’s life. Guilt. Frustration. Bitterness. Sour grapes. Saving someone else from this “burden” and future children from sharing in this “unacceptable” situation becomes a righteous cause. Furthermore, in finding the person/thing to blame, they’d finally be allowed to express all that despair and frustration. The emotional attachment and roiling undercurrent is very attractive to manipulative individuals. I see it happen a lot, and I see people with autism talking about it. My heart truly aches for everyone going through this. But none of this helps the person on the spectrum. Nor does it help the well-meaning parent.

Maybe parents and supporters wouldn’t be so desperate about and fearful of autism (and vaccines) if having a child with special needs wasn’t so isolating. Maybe if our communities, institutions, and organizations focused on empowering and supporting the vulnerable, on creating equity where ever possible, autism wouldn’t be so overwhelming and wouldn’t even be as common. Maybe if we responded to people on the autism spectrum (and everyone else) as they are, instead of how we want/expect them to be, then the whole situation would change entirely.

In my research and personal interactions, the common thread among those who question the overall value and trustworthiness of vaccines is that of a “dark world” full of “bad people.” Things are so dark, apparently, that the global medical and scientific community is less trustworthy than the few who disagree with it on this particular issue. Is it any wonder? Our culture is exploitative and manipulative, and lays out a set of requirements for human value that even the neurotypical struggle to meet. We all hurt! We’re all wary! And of course we are!

But it turns out, much of the darkness we see in the world relates to what we’re looking for (or at the very least, what we’re trained to look for). In an age of endless, algorithmically-driven “information,” it’s very difficult for many folks to navigate, discern, and prioritize--especially when it’s a personal issue, making it easy to exploit our emotions. The machine keeps us fearful and hungry and separate, but perhaps we shouldn’t despair over that. After all, the active effort to keep us fearful and separate reflects our underlying nature to work together, to connect, and to grow.

Researching all this was complicated. Lots dead-ends, seemingly believable stories from once-trusted professionals, self-referential content, emotionally manipulative content, questionable authorities (authority is always questionable), and a shit-ton of complicated medical research. This is the amount of research it took for me to pick through everything. It’s no joke.

And that brings me back to the present. To the stuff happening right now. Areas surrounding anti-vaccination communities are seeing a drastic rise in diseases that had been long gone before the anti-vaccination craze. Not everyone is equally susceptible to pathogens, and our willingness to receive imperfect but well-researched vaccines is about everyone else in all communities, not just ourselves. No matter what anyone chooses to believe about the “source” of COVID-19, it’s disabling and deadly and highly contagious, and just because it may not be highly visible in someone’s community doesn’t mean it’s not ravaging other communities. As for uncertainty over the Coronavirus being “real,” if a person is only willing to believe resources calling for them to be angry and afraid and suspicious of everyone else, it seems to me that one would have to investigate their own worldview, along with one’s view of themselves and their own shadows. If one sees the world as inherently bad and humans as inherently fucked, that relates to how one feels about oneself and an incomplete notion of the lives of other people. That is the perspective of a traumatized person. Self isolation is deadly, so we ought to be wary of things that seek to isolate us. These self-isolating notions are fed back to us by the algorithms guiding our internet activity, keeping our behaviors predictable and controllable. We keep clicking and returning, fed by a sense of tragic righteousness, by the same programs designed to keep people coming back to slot machines. The internet is not a neutral entity because it functions in a capitalist, undemocratic state. It must be used carefully. The book Team Human by Douglas Rushkoff highlights the nature of these algorithms and the systems which use them. But more importantly, it also highlights the things about humans that make us lovable and forgivable. The things that make it possible to manipulate us in the first place. There’s a lot of wild shit going on, but it’s not happening because “humans are bad.” It’s happening because we live in an age forcibly ruled by the most self destructive culture/ideology on the planet. It’s the ideas, not the species. That means we have work to do. Inner work.

Sources:

https://speakingofresearch.com/2019/04/24/celebrating-world-vaccination-week-pt-3-the-post-wakefield-fallout/

https://www.pennlive.com/nation-world/2020/05/who-is-judy-mikovits-and-what-does-she-have-to-do-with-anthony-fauci-and-the-coronavirus.html

https://vaxopedia.org/2018/12/29/are-vaccines-contaminated-with-retroviruses/

https://www.nejm.org/doi/full/10.1056/nejmp0802904

https://autisticadvocacy.org/2015/09/asan-statement-on-gop-primary-debate-comments-on-autism-and-vaccination/

https://autisticadvocacy.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/07/First-Hand-Perspectives-on-Behavioral-Interventions-for-Autistic-People-and-People-with-other-Developmental-Disabilities.pdf

https://sciencing.com/differentiating-rna-dna-viruses-4853.html

https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2020/03/a-fake-pandemic-antivaxxers-are-spreading-coronavirus-conspiracy-theories/

https://www.thechildren.com/health-info/conditions-and-illnesses/q-vaccine-safer-getting-real-disease

Also so much Wikipedia.

#health #vaccines #empathy #autism #virus #society #zgg

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matildainmotion · 5 years ago

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Equality and Diversity: Mothering Difference, Making Art

I have been slow to talk or write about race and diversity because of feeling vastly ill-qualified to do so. I’ve felt I should shut up, listen and let people who do not identify as white, straight and able-bodied do the talking and the writing. But recently I have come to realise that branding myself as ill-qualified feeds into the idea that ‘white’ is all-pervasive, as if white is so much the norm that it isn’t even a race, so what would I know about it? As if I am not part of the problem. I have done enough listening now to understand that structural racism is, in large part, for white people to undo. Just as patriarchy is not only for women to solve, and if you are a wheelchair user then the issue is not your lack of able-bodied legs but the lack of lifts inside the building. As the co-leader, with Lizzy Humber, of a movement called Mothers Who Make, which claims to be for ‘every kind of mother and every kind of maker,’ I think it is probably time I asked whether this is true – are we doing it for everyone, or only a privileged few?

Immediately, it’s complicated. For a start motherhood is a colossal category, so catering for ‘every kind of mother’ is a fantastic and preposterously ambitious claim. We like to try and list them: biological, adoptive, surrogate, foster, expectant, grand, great grand, single, bereaved…..is just the start of the list. Part of the reason for the movement existing at all is that motherhood itself has an ambivalent status in relationship to privilege. ‘Pregnancy and Maternity’ are ‘protected characteristics’ according to the Equality and Human Rights commission but this only covers a mother until 26 weeks after the birth. The remaining 26 plus years of raising the child do not count. I remember at one of the first Arts Council meetings I had with regards to Mothers Who Make, the ACE officer with whom I met said to me, only half-jokingly, “So are you to blame for all the funding applications I am now receiving that include childcare costs?” Whilst being a primary carer is slowly becoming recognised as an access issue, motherhood, the ACE officer explained to me kindly, is not a disability. Becoming a mother is a chosen privilege, not an inherited challenge. You were not born with it, instead, you were the one that did the birthing. This is true, and also not the whole truth. For me, it is true that being able to care for and raise two human beings feels like a huge honour. It is also true that my experiencing and naming my mothering as such is probably a result of my own white, middle class upbringing. It is a result of my having my children in my late 30s and early 40s. But even whilst owning my middle-class-ness, I object to motherhood being framed as a kind of lifestyle choice, as if children were a nice accessory, to be obtained if you wish. Motherhood is not always chosen. In teenagers and young women motherhood is often associated, not with privilege, but with deprivation. And then there is the fact that if motherhood were a lifestyle choice it would be a fairlly terrible one – hours and hours of unpaid, undervalued labour that does nothing for your cultural capital. Meanwhile, for some, missing out on motherhood can be a source of lifelong grief. Like I said, it’s complicated. And that’s just the mothering. Then there’s the making….

When I started Mothers Who Make I decided on the word ‘make’ not just because of the alliteration with the word ‘mother.’ I decided on it because I hoped it would be more welcoming to more mothers to use an everyday verb like ‘make’, rather than a fancy noun like ‘artist.’ You can make a bed as well as a book. You can make it through the day. Make a mess. Make mistakes. Make a difference. Even so mothers are still all too ready to exclude themselves: “Oh, I don’t feel I can come at the moment, I’m not really making anything,” is something I have heard time and again from potential participants and I have to work hard at convincing them that having made some soup is as valid and valued in a MWM meeting as having put a painting on the wall of Tate Modern. The verb ‘to make’ comes close on the heels of the verb ‘to be’ in defining who we are: we are human makings – creatures that create. I have always said that if you understand the need for a group called Mothers Who Make to exist then you can come – i.e if you want to be there, you are welcome. But is that enough? Is it enough to say that anyone can join in if they like? Based on our limited statistics to date, the answer is definitely no- it’s not enough. At present we are predominantly white (96%), straight (85%) and non-disabled (85%) (Stats from 124 equality and diversity monitoring forms, not from on our online community of nearer 3000). To be in a position to have heard of the group at all, to identify with it, to want to participate, to feel able to go through the door of an arts venue (in a pre-pandemic era), I fear already necessitates a certain level of privilege. So, what to do? There is an overwhelming amount to do, but as a start Lizzy and I have put out a call for feedback and am holding two meetings to focus specifically on how to begin to extend and diversify MWM’s reach (for more details see under this blog), and already I have received some incredibly useful responses. Right now, I want to draw on and explore three strands of feedback.

The first (thanks to Lucy Bell) was that MWM’s vibe – in terms of the images we put out, verbal and visual, and the culture of the group – leans towards what is often referred to as ‘attachment parenting.’ Our intention is to hold spaces that are non-judgemental and that do not condone or condemn any particular style of mothering. There is no right answer as to how to mother, how to make or how to manage the extraordinary challenge of doing both. Everyone has to do what is right for their particular circumstances, and their child/ren, and we recognise that ‘right’ even for an individual is an always changing work-in-progress. Part of the point of the network is to share and make visible to one another the enormous range of the answers that people explore and live out. However, in large part because my own solutions to the conundrums of mothering have been attachment parenting ones, I believe this has impacted the vibe of MWM and agree that, if this is not your style of parenting, it might make you steer clear.

The second piece of feedback (thanks to Zoe Gardner), was that MWM’s spaces, in person or online, often invite ambiguity, asking people to wear double identities, and therefore to blend or blur them. It implies in its name a relationship between mothering and making, a mucky mixture of selves and practices. I think this links back to the attachment parenting point – again I recognise it in myself. It’s what I do – I breastfeed my children, whilst typing my blogs sitting on their bedroom floor. I co-sleep with them and with my notebooks. I have carried the children in slings into rehearsal rooms and meetings. Both my mothering and making styles have been thoroughly messy, emergent and have involved much merging of spaces, tasks, beds, books and more. I strongly suspect that this tendency in me, which has in turn, to date, influenced the messaging of MWM, is connected to my relative privilege: if the gates are open to you, then you can afford to experiment with taking the walls down, rearranging the boundary lines; if the gates are closed to you, then messing with the walls isn’t necessarily an option, and might well be off-putting.

There is a further twist in this however- whilst many of these practices now seem white and middle class, their recent origins are most definitely non-western. A key text, written in 1975, which fuelled the whole attachment parenting movement, was The Continuum Concept by Jean Liedloff. Liedloff was inspired by her time spent living with the indigenous Yequana people in Venezuela. The Yequana carried their babies in slings, co-slept with them, breastfed on demand. MWM’s principle of holding spaces that are ‘adult-centred but child-friendly’ is directly linked to one of Liedloff’s key observations of how the Yequana raised their children in the midst of adult activity, as opposed to segregating them off into child-centred environments. I was born when the Continuum Concept first came out, when carrying your baby on your back would have been identified, by most in the UK, as something a woman from Africa might do, not a practice done by a white woman in Oxfordshire (my mother). Jump on forty years and, if you google images of ‘baby on back,’ the first one that comes up is of a white man with an Ergo-baby sling, a white baby inside it, standing smiling in his garden. This feels like dangerous and difficult territory. This shift could be framed as western culture growing more diverse, or as an act of appropriation, or both. Whichever it is, it adds to the complexity of the picture, which brings me to the third piece of feedback.

It came as a question on Facebook (thanks to Wendy Thomson) “Are we in white knight/ saviour behaviour mode?”- are non-white mothers, for example, doing just fine, thank you very much, with their own groups and support networks? And then there was also a response (thanks to Kit Whitfield Thomas) “I don’t think it is white knight mode, just manners. What is the alternative? – not trying to include us and assuming we should just sort it all out ourselves?” And along with this Kit made a request not to assume anything, a request, as a mother of a SEN child, for an acknowledgement that “no experience of motherhood is universal”. I think these are all vital questions and requests. We must keep inviting but be alert to our manners – the manner and the mode of the invitation, to keep making and holding space for, not the universe, but the countless, complex, diverse versions of experiences within it.

These three pieces of feedback have helped me to begin to think more deeply about diversity and equality, inclusion and exclusion in relation to MWM and beyond. Mothers Who Make already excludes – it is explicitly not for everyone – the clue is in the name. I have been challenged on this point repeatedly, most often with the question: “What about fathers?”. My response stems from a belief in specificity and difference. Equal does not mean ‘the same as.’ It may mean having the same pay, the same rights, the same access to opportunities, but it does not mean having the same experiences or identity. For now there needs to be a movement called ‘Black Lives Matter’ not ‘All Lives Matter,’ which doesn’t mean white lives don’t matter; and there needs to be a group called ‘Mothers Who Make’ not ‘Parents who Make,’ even though there are many creative fathers who also need support. Some lives that have not been deemed to matter, need to be visibly valued right now. Some experiences that have been marginalised need a special, protected space. Even in a utopian future, I am not sure the aim should be a world where we no longer need these groups and movements that hold space for specific differences, such as the black, the trans, the queer, the disabled, the maternal– and of course within each of these categories are a thousand further differences. My utopian vision would not be of a colour-blind world, in which no one notices race anymore, but rather one involving ever sharper vision. One in which people would see everything, every colour, pattern, nuance, every difference in ever greater detail.

For the second time this year I find myself reaching for my copy of the parenting classic, ‘Siblings without Rivalry’ by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish. One of its chapters is headed “Equal is less:”

“To be loved equally….is somehow to be loved less. To be loved uniquely—for one’s own special self—is to be loved as much as we need to be loved.”

Back in February I quoted this same line within a blog about rivalry. I wrote,

“Yes, this makes sense. Equal is still in the paradigm of quantity. Equal implies that you could have more than me, even if we have the same. It explains my children bickering over identical chocolate bars – they both have exactly the same, and that, in the end, is not enough, not what they want. They want their differences, not their same-ness…as long as we remain in the world of quantities, of equal signs, then there is always an implied risk that one of them could lose - minus, subtraction, less, loss.”

Often ‘equal’ connotes a measure-able amount which results, I believe, in this fear of scarcity. The phrase ‘equal access,’ seems more useful. It is not the gold, but the access to the gold, that needs to be shared. This may seem like a crazy distinction, but I think it is important – it makes equality a dynamic process not an amount, the swaying of the scales, not the stuff weighed out in them. My children are not equal, they are not static, not quantifiable. As a mother, my job is not to treat them the same, but rather to recognise and celebrate their evolving, see-sawing differences. In a way their differences are the gold, and it is plentiful. Diversity involves a generous kind of maths – multiplication – always more. Equality and Diversity monitoring forms, however, involve more difficult calculations- our differences are boxed,tracked and stacked into statistics in pursuit of everyone having equal access. It is hard to keep the sense of equality as a dynamic process when faced with those forms. So, whilst they are a critical tool on a vital quest, I think we also need to keep doing the other sum- the one so long that it never reaches the equals sign but we know the answer to it is infinity – a glorious inventory of our never-ending differences.

As is recognised in the work of Abraham Maslow, in Marshal Rosenburg’s Non-Violent Communication, and in many spiritual traditions, if you go far enough with detailing the differences, patterns begin to emerge – we start to connect up, to equal one another at the deepest level of our needs. “Out beyond ideas of right-doing and wrong-doing there is a green field,” writes Rumi, the 12th C Sufi poet, and once we meet there, there is another inventory to be found, a list of the fundamentals to which we all require and deserve access: food, shelter, rest, warmth, autonomy, play, love……the complete sum of our same-ness.

For the last month my daughter has wanted the same bedtime book. Unprompted she has had her four-year-old finger on the pulse of the world’s process, for she has asked me again and again for ‘Mix,’ by Arree Chung. It is a beautiful, witty picture book, that I would recommend to anyone wanting to talk about difference and race with their children. It opens:

“In the beginning there were three colours: Reds, Yellows and Blues. Reds were the loudest, Yellows were the brightest and Blues were the coolest. Everyone lived in colour harmony, until one day when a red said, ‘Reds are the best!’….”

The colours decide to divide – to live in separate parts of the city. But then a Blue and a Yellow fall in love, and, contentiously, the first interracial marriage takes place. A mixed-race child is born - they call her Green. Slowly the other colours are inspired- more and more mixing follows, until at last they give up on segregation. The final line is my favourite one in the book: “The new city was full of colour. It wasn’t perfect, but it was home.” I love that the happy ending is imperfect – it makes equality dynamic again, not a final prize possession but an unfolding multi-coloured process.

Meanwhile, Mothers who Make will continue to hand out equality and diversity monitoring forms. But alongside these, we will also start to interrogate and diversify the kinds of images and words we use, the places we advertise ourselves, the venues with which we work, the range of events we hold, in an effort to make ourselves more genuinely accessible to mothers and makers of every kind. Right now, I have, not so much a question of the month, as a request to put to you: I want to know about how you are different. I want to know about what you need. I want to know how to access you and how you might best access me, us, MWM. This is a fourfold invitation: you can write to me with your feedback via email - [email protected] . You can come to one of the diversity meetings happening this month (details below). And you can fill in our equality and diversity form so we can gain a more accurate picture of our network: https://forms.gle/wgDm335c1zQbaKer7

Lastly, you can do this: go beyond the boxes- go as deep as you can into your difference. Whether it is your ethnic identity, your neurodiversity, your sexuality, your gender, your disability, your child’s disability, your mental health challenges. Articulate it however you wish. Maybe it will be a list, an inventory. Maybe a letter. A photo. A drawing. A song. Be as specific as you can. Name all your identities, all your differences. This is a creative injunction - I believe it may in fact be where making begins - tracking your difference, your way of accessing the world, as the origin of art.

Our diversity-focussed meetings, via Zoom, open to all, are on: Thursday 9th July 1-2.30pm BST and Tuesday 28th July 10-11.30am BST. Children are welcome too. Email [email protected] if you wish to attend.

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