#it’s much sexier. The Monsters r watching

[isatoru]

masturbating in the Darkness

[amyscascadingtabs]

rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky

It’s the perfect little getaway, exactly what they needed. It would be even better if she could only stop thinking.

“So, tell me.” Jake holds her hand over the table, forcing her back to reality. “Five top moments for us 2019, go. Countdown-stylez.”

Three different New Year's Eves, as celebrated by Jake and Amy (and Mac).

read on ao3 💕

december 31st, 2019.

The hotel guests checking in before Jake and Amy are a family. A little girl with blonde hair, maybe four or five years old, is carrying her own pink backpack and making up dance steps around her father’s feet as he goes through the information with the receptionist, and an even younger boy is hiding behind his mother’s legs as he watches the people in the lobby with wide eyes. Looking up, Amy realizes that the mother’s open coat is revealing a baby bump, too. She’d put her at six, maybe seven months pregnant. Three kids. Amy feels a pang of jealousy.

Even with the observation skills of an experienced detective, it shocks her how good she’s become at picking out families and pregnant women in any crowd. It’s an interesting talent, but measured against the pain it causes her, Amy wouldn’t call it a very useful one. She notices Jake looking at the kids as well, a daydreaming look on his face, and somehow, that makes her pain worse.

The idea behind going away to a hotel upstate for New Year’s was so they could get away from the stress for a moment; go somewhere else, rest and relax, forget about the pregnancy master calendar they’ve stared themselves blind at for a few days. Amy didn’t realize how impossible it would be to get away from all the other reminders.

She draws a breath of relief when the family in front of them gets the keys to their room, the little girl running first towards the elevator and her brother laughing as he chases after.

“Cute kids,” Jake whispers, watching them longingly.

“Yeah.” Amy tries not to think about the negative pregnancy test she threw away in the bathroom trashcan before they left. “Really cute.”

//

“I’m excited you said we could drink tonight.” Jake toasts his White Russian with her glass of Sauvignon. “It’s been a while.”

“I know, “ Amy feels the guilt wash over her. “Well, it’s not New Year’s Eve every day. I think we’ve earned it.” And I already took a negative test, she thinks.

“We sure have.” He gives her a closer look, pressing his lips together like he always does when he’s worried about her. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Just tired,” she says. It’s not technically a lie. “I didn’t sleep that well last night.”

“Lucky we have a huge hotel bed to help with that tonight, then. Seriously, this place rocks.”

Amy’s prepared to agree on that part – she did her research the moment it stood clear they would both get New Year’s Eve off. After getting their room, they’ve spent the evening getting massages in the hotel spa, dining at the surprisingly nice restaurant, and now they’re admiring the view from the bar on the top floor, waiting for the fireworks. It’s the perfect little getaway, exactly what they needed. It would be even better if she could only stop thinking.

“So, tell me.” Jake holds her hand over the table, forcing her back to reality. “Five top moments for us 2019, go. Countdown-stylez.”

“Number five!” She rolls the r and holds on the i, earning herself an amused look from the older couple next to them. “Okay, I’m going to go with… that date you took me on for my birthday. I can’t believe you got into the puzzle bar this time!”

“I might have convinced the guard to let me in because it was your birthday, but still a good one. Number fooo-uur… the Cinco de Mayo-heist. God, that was fun, even if the tasing hurt like a bitch.”

“Agreed. Number three – when Holt finally invited us to that dinner party and I almost didn’t lose my cool once.”

“You keep telling yourself that, babe. Number two… the Jake way. Seriously, I still think we should try that again. It was awesome.”

“It was, but also way inappropriate,” she reminds him, but he just shrugs. “Number one, then.”

“I know which one is mine, but you go first.”

Amy swallows, then sighs. “Mine is after the manhunt. When we decided to start trying. That’s still my favorite moment.”

“Mine, too.” Jake looks her in the eyes, and she knows the bittersweet feeling is shared. “It’s going to happen, Ames. I know it. Maybe this month’s the one.”

Amy doesn’t have the strength to correct him, tell him she’s already taken an early test and that she’s lacking any confidence there’s going to be a second line when she tests again in a couple of days. Luckily, she doesn’t have to, because right then, the fireworks that have been going off a few at a time in the distance begin to multiply as the countdown starts.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four…

Amy leans forward so she can be kissing him already when the new year begins.

Three, two, one… happy new year!

The crowd around them erupts into cheers as the sky glows with colorful explosions when burning bits of metal lighting up the darkness outside. Jake kisses her deeper, seeming to forget that there are people around with a bit of alcohol in his system and his hands cupping her face. For a moment, Amy lets herself just be happy.

~

december 31st, 2020.

The instant Amy closes her eyes for the more-than-well-deserved nap Jake told her to take while he made dinner, Mac begins to cry from his crib again.

“McClane, please,” Amy pleads, as if reasoning with her two-month-old would solve his discontent. “You can't seriously be hungry again, that’s insane.”

She tries with the pacifier first, checking his diaper, even standing up and walking around with him for a bit to eliminate anything else, but Mac is still clenching his fists and only looking even more furious with her, so Amy gives in. She sits down with him again, unhooks one side of the bra and lets him find his grip, exhaling when the peaceful suckles begin and the desperate crying finally ceases. She swears it looks like her son is side-eyeing her for taking too long, but to her defense, she fed him for a good forty-five minutes only a little over an hour ago and it's exhausting being used like a human pacifier. Growth spurt, Camila Santiago said when Amy called her in tears yesterday, and the problem-shooting section in the 0-3 months baby-binder had agreed. Amy would argue that sounds way too innocent for something which is turning her otherwise happy and smiley baby into a constantly hungry and crying mini-monster who won't close his eyes for more than twenty minutes at a time.

There's a soft knock on the door after a few minutes, and Jake peeks in. He’s wearing his fancy kitchen apron, which Charles gave him for Christmas with the comment that there’s nothing sexier than a dad who can cook. It hasn’t magically improved his cooking skills, but Amy’s willing to admit that it does look good on him.

“You guys doing okay?”

“He is, for now. I’m going crazy. How’s our dinner going?”

“Well, I haven’t burnt it yet, but there’s still time,” he grimaces, sitting down at the foot of the bed. “Do you need anything, babe?”

“Sleep, but that’s not going to happen.” Amy rubs her eyes. “It’s fine. He’s got to fall asleep at some point, though, this is nuts.”

“Don’t challenge him, he’s breaking records,” Jake says, leaning forward to tickle Mac’s feet. Mac reacts by kicking at the boob he’s not currently feeding from, making Amy curse. “Oops, sorry. Anyway, I’m sure he will fall asleep at some point, and we can have a nice, calm New Year’s dinner. I mean, he has to be exhausted, right?”

“God, I hope so. I’m starving.” She can see Mac’s eyelids getting heavy, but every time she thinks they’re about to fall closed, it’s like he twitches and stares at her, wide awake. “He’s lucky he’s cute.”

Jake grins. “Lucky indeed.”

Mac starts pulling away at that moment, a little bit of milk still dribbling from his cheeks. Amy reaches for one of the muslin blankets that’s never more than a few feet away in their home nowadays, lifting him so he’s upright against her shoulder and patting him on the back. She expects a burp, but instead, she gets an unpleasant surprise when he spits up, managing to get sour baby puke down her back and in her already greasy hair. She groans, giving Jake an exhausted look when she sees him stifling a chuckle.

“Hey, I’ll take him. You go take a shower and I’ll put him in the BabyBjörn. Maybe that will do it.”

“That’s the hottest thing you’ve ever said,” Amy mumbles, and she’s not entirely kidding.

She makes the shower as long as she possibly can. Most days, she has to shower with Mac in the baby bouncer on the bathroom floor, so even the chance to be alone in the bathroom for more than five minutes feels like a luxury. She lets the shampoo really lather and the conditioner take its time to sink in, trying to massage the knots in her neck and shoulders under the hot water. She can hear Mac still fussing from the kitchen, and it makes her feel guilty even though he’s barely left her arms today.

“He’s fine,” she whispers to herself like a mantra. “He’s fine. Jake can handle it. He’s perfectly fine. Everything’s okay. You deserve this.”

She still skips the make-up and nicer clothes she had been planning to put on, throwing on a pair of maternity leggings and one of Jake’s old hoodies instead.

The dinner looks fantastic, some sort of chicken baked in the oven with rice and a lemon sauce, and Amy’s actually impressed. She imagines it would have been even nicer if she could have eaten it warm and together with Jake, but they only make it through toasting in orange soda and the first two bites before Mac wakes up from his ten-minute-nap, wailing as if he truly believed he’d just been abandoned. They end up having to take turns eating and walking laps around the living room with him, because he starts crying again if they stop moving for a second or as much as make an attempt to put him down. Amy is suddenly relieved they said no to her brother Tony’s New Year’s party-invite.

She can barely believe it when after what feels like the fiftieth or so feed of the day, Mac falls asleep. Curled up like a little frog on her chest and letting out the cutest of baby snores, he finally seems to relax, and Amy doesn’t even dare to breathe too sharply for the first ten minutes. Eventually, though, once it seems like he’s not going to wake up from the slightest movement or a raised voice anymore, Jake tucks them both in under a blanket and gets the Ben and Jerry’s from the freezer and orange soda from the fridge. Then he gets another blanket for himself, and they snuggle up together in the corner of the sofa in front of the tv. From live footage at Times Square, Amy can see crowds of people waiting for the ball to drop.

“Wishing you were there?” Jake winks, but she just laughs.

“Are you kidding? Cold, crowded, and you can never even get a good view. This is better in every way.” She strokes her thumb over Mac’s dark hair. “I have this one and you. That’s all I need. And ice cream,” she adds, digging out a piece of cookie dough from the tub.

“You’re right, it’s pretty damn close to perfection. Top five moments of 2020?”

Amy shakes her head, pointing to Mac. “No point. They’re all about him, anyway, and they’re all too good to compare.”

“True that.” Jake shakes his head. “Hey, isn’t it crazy that although he’s been kind of a nightmare today, I’ve already forgiven him?”

“No, it makes perfect sense, because I’ve almost wanted to give him away several times and now I can’t even remember why.”

“Having a baby makes us kind of crazy, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely. I wouldn’t change it for the world, though.”

“Me neither. Not even if I was offered a role in the next Die Hard-movie and Taylor Swift did the soundtrack.”

“That’s pretty big,” Amy laughs, leaning in for a quick kiss. “Would Taylor Swift do the soundtrack for Die Hard, though? Realistically speaking?”

“It’s a daydream, Ames!”

She has no time for a comeback, though, because right then, the countdown starts on the tv and Jake raises the volume a few bars so they can hear.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four…

p;

“New Year’s kiss,” Amy says, holding Mac up slightly so they can both reach him.

Three, two, one… happy new year!

They both smother his cheeks with kisses at the same time as the fireworks explode over the sky in the distance outside their windows and the crowd begins to cheer on tv. Mac doesn’t even flinch, completely oblivious to the celebrations going on outside. Amy sighs.

“How can he magically sleep through all of this, but wake up the second I put him down in his crib at night?”

Jake shrugs. “Babies, man.”

~

december 31st, 2021.

Amy has only started to take off Mac’s winter overall before he starts trying to flee, kicking wildly with his boots and pointing towards the kitchen where he’s already spotted Rosa. Jake notices her struggle and is quick to help her, and the instant the toddler is free, he hurries off towards his best friend.

“Wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo!”

“Mac! Hey, happy new year, man!” Before Amy can even take off her own jacket, Mac is already in Rosa’s arms and babbling excitedly as he plays with her gold necklace. Amy wonders how much of what Mac’s saying actually makes sense to Rosa, but she’s nodding and smiling and seems to have abandoned whoever she was previously talking to in favor of the one-year-old.

“Jake. Amy.” Kevin appears to take their coats, shaking their hands. “Welcome. Drinks and hors d’oeuvres are in the living room, and I see your small child has made himself at home.”

“He found Rosa, yep.” Jake grins. “And he has a name.”

“Ah, yes… McClane.” Kevin nods. “Very well. I have to go check on… the kitchen. Enjoy your evening.”

  “He’s never going to like me,” Jake whispers to Amy the moment he’s left.

“Well, I think we both might have lost a few points with the name choice, babe.”

“He’s one to talk names, he’s got a dog named after a cheese!”

“I know, but we can’t tell him that. Come on, Jake, I have to find something to chew on before I get sick.”

“You can always blame it on the alcohol, if you do.”

“Jake.”

“Just kidding,” he grins. “You go check on Mac and Rosa and I’ll locate the snacks.”

 It turns out Rosa is more than willing to guard Mac for the evening, currently showing him the model train she's found in the library. Mac is watching with focus as Rosa helps him turn on the button that makes the train drive around the tracks, laughing as it lets out a choo-choo sound.

“Your son is much cooler than the rest of these lame partygoers,” she shrugs when Amy asks her if she's sure it's fine. “He says what he's thinking, unlike the rest of all these dum-dums.”

“Dum-dums,” Mac repeats, proud. Rosa nods.

“Exactly. I’ll call you if something happens.”

 And so, in an unexpected turn of events, Amy finds herself able to sit down for most of the evening without having to chase a wild toddler around to keep him from whatever dangers he could somehow manage to get himself into in Holt’s and Kevin’s house. She supposes it looks quite antisocial of her, and maybe it is, but she’s six weeks pregnant and the early symptoms of nausea and fatigue seem to be coming on both stronger and faster the second time around, so Amy doesn’t really care. She’s got lemon sparkling water for a non-alcoholic drink, a paper plate of carrot sticks, salted crisps and almonds, and she’s not going to talk to anyone unless they sit down next to her. It’s practically heaven. Jake checks on her from time to time, assuring her multiple times that they can just leave early if she wants to, but however tired she feels, Amy doesn’t want to insult Holt that badly. They’re staying until midnight as per proper New Year’s party etiquette, and then — and not a second later — they can go home so she can crash in bed.

 Rosa finds her again when Mac begins to get sleepy, rubbing his eyes and yawning but still shaking his head when Amy asks if he's feeling a little tired. He crawls over to her arms anyway, laying his head on her shoulder and hugging his arms around her chest.

“Thanks for looking after him,” she tells Rosa, but she just shrugs.

“No worries. I don't get to hang out with him enough. Your kid is dope.”

“Douh,” Mac whispers, mimicking her, and Rosa laughs.

“Repeats every word you tell him, too,” Amy says. “Yeah, he’s pretty awesome. Come over to our apartment at five-thirty in the morning on any weekend and you can hang out with him all you want. I won't stop you.”

Rosa scrunches her nose. “I’ll consider it.”

“He’s in a great mood then, I can assure you that.”

“I'll take your word for it. Also, Jake was tipsy talking baby names with some etymology professor when I saw him last, and he seemed very intense about it for a guy who's not currently thinking of naming any new babies. Or?” She raises an eyebrow.

“No, he just get thats intense when somebody implies McClane is a weird name,” Amy says, and makes a note to herself to remind Jake about their agreement not to tell anyone else at least until the twelve-week mark. “Which, to be fair, I warned him that people would think. But here we are anyway.”

“It is a weird name. Couldn’t imagine him being called anything else, though, even if I still don’t understand why you agreed to it.”

“There was a really good PowerPoint involved.”

Rosa looks at her questioningly, but Amy shakes her head, knowing there’s no point in explaining the unexplainable.

“Hmm. You guys are weird. You make pretty great kids, though.”

“Yeah.” Mac has fallen asleep by now, drooling a little bit on Amy’s shoulder. She kisses the top of his head and thinks of the abstract idea of her second kid, the thump-thump of an already present heartbeat they got so lucky as to hear on an early ultrasound yesterday. “The best.”

 As midnight draws closer, most of the guests take on jackets, scarves and shoes to venture out into the garden to watch fireworks. Not wanting to be left out, Amy and Jake manage to get a half-sleeping Mac, who wakes up suddenly interested when he hears about the promise of fireworks, into his overall and join them. It’s a surprisingly good view from the garden, the cold winter air waking them up, and Jake points out the vibrant displays in the sky to a drowsy Mac, who blinks at them dazedly. It’s so cute it makes Amy tear up. Being both a mom and newly pregnant does that to her; she’s given up trying to fight it.

  It’s hard to believe that two years ago, she was toasting in champagne in a hotel bar and wondering if they would ever make a baby together, and now she’s standing in a garden watching Jake with their one-year-old son and knowing that next New Year’s, if all goes well, they’ll be parents of two.

“What are you thinking of?” Jake must see her tears, because he looks worried, but Amy just smiles.

“Just how quickly things can change. How happy I am. And how much I love you.”

“Love you, too. Top three-hundred-and-sixty-five moments of this year,” Jake says, hugging her close so they’re standing in a little family bubble. “Every single day I get to wake up with and then come home to my family.”

  Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four…

  They both lean in so they can smother their son with kisses, and he laughs as he figures out what’s about to happen.

 Three, two, one… happy new year!

  The sky explodes with color, Jake and Amy attack their son with kisses, and as the new year begins, Amy thinks she might just be the luckiest person in the entire world.

~

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 88

Warnings: none

Tagging: @tragiclyhip, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007

The final attempt at sleep had been successful. Although the road ahead of him is destined to be long and extremely difficult -and no doubt agonizing- his brief moment of wakefulness had done wonders to life Esme’s spirits. That chance to speak to him; to see him open his eyes and know -with one hundred percent certainty- that he was able to acknowledge her. It wasn’t a drug induced incoherent rambling or hallucination. He actually saw her and was able to engage; giving appropriate responses and showing concern for her and the baby. Able to express how he was feeling and that telling her he loved her. No one could ever possibly understand how just incredible that small moment was, or what an enormous impact it had on her state of mind. She knows it won’t be easy. There will be weeks, even months, of healing; tremendous pain and more hard times than easy ones. A full recovery could take as long as a couple of years; countless rounds of physical rehab will be needed and most likely therapy for mental health and addiction issues.  But he’s already shown just how tenacious and strong he actually is; his will to live a lot more powerful than the agony he’s experiencing. With so much to live for, his desire to be with his family again is his main driving force, and she knows he’ll be willing to do whatever it takes to get back on his feet again.

Nathan may have been able to break his body, but he hadn’t made a dent in his spirit.

The burden she’s been carrying -the fear, worry, and uncertainty- had been lessened, and she’d been able to drift off; both body and mind allowing her to rest. So soundly in fact, that she’d only briefly stirred in the wee hours of the morning when Julie had come in while on her rounds. Merely lifting her head from the pillow; quietly observing as the nurse switched empty IV and medicine bags with full ones. Then she’d simply rolled over, pulled the blankets over her head, and easily drifted off.

Her sleep once again had been filled with dreams of the past. Millie’s first steps and how ecstatic and proud Tyler had been; never getting to experience many of Austin’s milestones because of deployments. How tearful he’d been the morning he’d walked into her room and Millie -who’d  been standing up in her crib, excitedly bouncing up and down at the mere sight of him- had called him ‘daddy’ for the very first time.  And the way he’d broken down in the delivery room when the twins had been born -even harder than he had when his daughter came into the world- and the nurse had given him TJ and said “Here’s your son”.   He’d lost his first, and getting that moment again -a baby boy presented to him- had profoundly affected him  A man that rightfully shouldn’t even have been alive. Who’d been given a second chance and at times didn’t feel as if he deserved it. There are still times he thinks that way. When the demons of the past resurface and play havoc on his brain; convincing him that the mistakes of a younger man and the amount of blood on his hands has turned him into a monster. It’s the nightmare of living with mental health issues and PTSD; those dark moments where he questions his mere existence and openly states that he doesn’t deserve the life he has now; a wife and children that love and accept him unconditionally.  

It’s hard for people to understand. How a man that is so big and so strong -and often intimidating- can have those kinds of thoughts and vulnerable moments. But they don’t know everything that he’s battled. His childhood is one of his best kept secrets; only her and Koen know the full extent of his father’s behaviour, the abuse inflicted, and the long term damage it has caused. It’s not something he readily talks about; even with her.  That toxic masculinity still gets the better of him at times. His father’s attempts at beating into him that a man -a REAL MAN- doesn’t show emotion; it means that he’s weak and there’s nothing more pathetic than being weak. And she’s tried to break him of it; years spent assuring him that he isn’t a weak man.  A weak man would have given up in that storage facility. In the same way he would have given up on the Sultana Kamal Bridge seven years ago.  And he certainly never would have survived the nightmare of his upbringing. Nor would he be so determined to be a better man; the kind of husband and father that a wife and kids can brag about and proud of. Who never have to live in fear of him ; cowering every time he raises his voice or even comes too close to them. Who know -beyond the shadow of a doubt- how much he loves him.

Tyler Rake is anything BUT weak. And he’d shown that the night before.  Somehow finding a way to battle his way through this thick haze of multiple medications; gathering the strength to not only open his eyes, but actually think coherently and communicate. He was right. He DOES do whatever he wants.

When she finally wakes, it’s to the patter of rain against the window and the sounds of hospital life trickling through the half open door. Doctors being paged, the shrill ring of patients’ using their call buttons to summon for help, the loud rattle of gurneys being pushed through the halls. It’s a harsh reminder of her current situation; stuck in the ICU of a private hospital in Dhaka, thousands of miles away from her children and the comforts and security of her own home.  She misses it. The sound and the smell of the ocean. The morning breeze and sunshine as she stands out on the back deck enjoying that first cup of tea, watching her husband as he helps Millie and the twins search -and dig, at times- for shells, rocks, and beach glass. Often wondering who is enjoying the quality time more; father or children. The  dinners cooked on an open fire down by the water; the smiles brought to their faces -and that unconditional love and immense pride in his eyes- as they watch their children play and listen to those little voices and musical giggles floating on the air. And those strong, protective arms wrapped around her from behind as she sits between his legs. Her head resting against his chest as they quietly marvel at the sky; painted vivid shades of orange and pink as the sun sets.  

It’s a life she had never even dared to dream about; a beautiful home in an even more even more beautiful place,  amazing children and a husband that is faithful and loyal and only has eyes for her.  All those things that she’d come to believe SHE didn’t deserve and had long ago given up on finding. How poetic in a way; two broken people coming together to make a slightly dented whole.

Sighing heavily, she rolls from side to back; eyes closed as she stretches and yawns The morning sickness has returned. With a vengeance. More than likely made worse by lack of food and the stress and worry that have accompanied the last twenty four hours. When she manages to quell the threatening nausea and brief spell of dizziness, she opens her eyes and sits up, finding a small paper bag sitting on the extra pillow beside her; name written on the front of it in black marker. And the contents bring the first genuine smile since yesterday morning; aside from Tyler’s brief period of consciousness. A bottle of prenatal vitamins, a small carton of chocolate milk, and an enormous blueberry muffin. Accompanied by a handwritten note from Julie; asking Esme to promise she’ll look after herself AND the baby, assurance that she’ll be back on in the evening, and her home phone number. The latter being offered as not only a ‘helpline’ if she feels overwhelmed and scared and needs someone to vent and cry to, but so she can give the nurse a list of some of her favorite foods. Julie vowing to bring a selection when she clocks in for her shift. It’s refreshing; having someone WANT to take care of her in that motherly fashion. Especially when her own has been anything but.

She shoves her feet into her sandals and climbs off the bed; returning  it to its couch form. “Hey baby,” she greets as she stands at the side of Tyler’s bed; combing her fingers through his hair and pressing her lips to his temple. “Good morning.  I hope you slept god. You didn’t snore, I know that much. That’s a first, huh? Me not complaining about your snoring? Must have been a really good sleep for you to be THAT quiet. You deserve it; that kind of sleep. Your face looks a little better, I think. Not as swollen. Pretty bruised though. And you’re going to have a couple wicked scars at the end of this.”

Her fingers gently touch the stitches below and above his eye.

“You’d probably joke about how it balances your face out; the right catching up with the left in the scar department.  I think they’re going to make you even sexier. Which should be illegal, if you ask me. One man being that sexy?  No wonder you’re a DILF. The thirsty ladies may drive me crazy, but I can’t really blame them. Right now I’m kind of mad at you though. I am so nauseous. And I swear, the bump is even bigger this morning...look…”   she pushes her fingers through his, then draws their joined hands through the safety railing and places them on her stomach.  “...bigger, right? You can’t tell me this is normal. None of the other ones were this size so soon. Not even Declan, and he was over ten pounds when he was born. And you better not be thinking multiples; one is all we can handle right about now.  Let’s not bite off more than we can chew, alright? Six is more than enough. And speaking of babies, I’m going to ask Ovi to bring Addie here. She’s tiny still, Tyler. She shouldn’t be away from us this long. Especially me. She needs to be with her momma. And I think it would do you some good, too; having at least one of them here. So that’s my decision and you’re just  going to have to live with it.”

She moves his hand back inside the confines of the bed, gently setting it on the mattress

“I love you,” she says, and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You keep sleeping, okay? And I hope if you’re dreaming, it’s good things for a change.”

****

She gives a small start when she exits the bathroom and finds Koen sitting in the bedside chair. Sipping from a take out cup of coffee and freshly shaven;  his face bearing its own fair share of bruises and a handful of  butterfly bandages keeping small, superficial wounds closed.

“Morning, sunshine!” He cheerfully greets, and nods to the cup of tea and a bag of fast food breakfast sitting on the window ledge. “I finally get to see you in your sexy jammies.”

Esme gives a derisive snort. “You DO have issues if you find sweatpants and an oversized shirt sexy,” she says as she journeys over to the window “I was going to give you shit for scaring the crap out of me, but seeing as you come bearing gifts, I’ll let it slide.”  She peers into the bag, a grin tugging at her lips. “Either it was just a lucky guess, or you somehow know that when I’m pregnant, I always crave breakfast burritos.”

“There’s a lot I know about you. Someone talks about you. All the time.  Mostly about shit I don’t need to know.”

“Well I’m glad you listened. Because this is a very nice surprise. Thank you,” she lays a hand on his shoulder and presses a kiss to his cheek. “And what’s up with this?” She lightly taps a hand against the side of his face. “All cleaned up. Smooth like a baby’s bum.”

“I thought there might be some hot nurses walking around. Want to put my best foot forward. Maybe you can hook me up; put in a good word for me.”

“Why would you want to hook with someone here? You’ll be going home soon.”

“Exactly.”

“Ewww…” she grimaces. “...I don’t need to know that you’re a ‘pump and dump’.”

“Considering the things I’ve had to hear from you and him?”  Koen nods in Tyler’s direction. “What I said is tame. I’ve actually had to listen to you two….”

“I thought you were moving on from random hookups?”  Esme remarks, and she perches on the arm of his chair and delves into one of the burritos. “I thought you were getting too old for that shit?”

“Excuse me, who are you calling old?”

“I thought Tyler was rubbing off on you. That he was some sort of inspiration to you and Rata; convincing you two it was time to stop sowing your wild oats and settle down once and for all.  Didn’t you say it gave you hope? That if...and I quote…’someone can put up with the likes of him, that’s proof there IS someone out there for everyone’.”

“I did say that.”

“So what gives? Why are you looking for a random? You deserve more than that”

“Well if he was awake and could tell me where to find another one of you, I’d be all set.”

“Sorry. I’m limited edition. And I’ve already been claimed. A couple breakfast burritos just aren’t enough to make me divorce my husband and run away with you. It definitely takes more than that.”

“I knew I should have gotten you hash browns too.”

“That would have done it! Boy, did you ever blow that.  I would have for sure ran away with you. Right this very second.”

“You know, as much as I enjoy our little banter, I don’t think I could handle you.”

“Oh, you definitely couldn’t.  It takes a special breed of man, believe me. And I’m serious; aren’t you tired of NOT having someone to call your own? Someone to go home to at the end of the day? Someone that is your ‘be and end all’? Your ‘ride or die’?. You deserve to be happy. I WANT you to be happy.”

“I think Tyler took all the happy and didn’t leave any for anyone else.”

“When we get home, I am finding someone for you. I don’t care what it takes; I will put you on every dating site out there.”

“What about your sister? Or step sister. Whatever she is.”

“Riley? Are you serious? She’s twenty three!”

“And?”

“And you’re thirty years older than she is!”

“How old do you think I am?”

“I know you’re eight years older than Tyler. He’s almost forty two. So I lied; you’re only twenty seven years old than she is.”

“And?”

“And that’s fucking disturbing!”

Koen shrugs. “She’s cute”

“She is. You know who else finds her cute? Women. Who she is into. And she’s not a switch hitter.”

“Doesn’t take after her older sister, huh?”

Esme frowns. “He told you THAT, too?”

“He’s told me a lot of things, sunshine. You forget; he’s a chatty drunk. Until he’s a depressed and weepy drunk, that is.”

“There are many sides to him you don’t get to see. Sober sides. And don’t worry; my sister isn’t in contention, but I WILL find someone for you.   And speaking of someone, where’s your sidekick?”

“He saw something downstairs he liked.”

“Really…” she playfully wriggles her eyebrows. “...blond or brunette?”

“Something in the gift shop. For the baby.”

“He knows?”

“EVERYONE knows.”

“Yaz has a big mouth,” Esme grumbles. “We weren’t going to tell anyone until we got home and found how far along I am. It’s what Tyler and I wanted.”

“I could gather a guess. About how far.”

“Sure you could,” she mutters. “And why do you keep looking at me like that? Why do you keep staring at my crotch?”

“I’m looking at your stomach. Where’d that come from?”

“It’s been there. I’ve just been hiding it because no one was supposed to know! Now that everyone does,  I guess I don’t have to wear baggy clothes anymore.  And it’s big, right? The bump? Bigger than any of the others?”

“How should I know? I only saw you pregnant with Millie and Addie. Never saw  you with any of the boys.”

“It’s never been like this so soon! How big IS this baby?”

“Look at the size of the kid’s father. Maybe it’s taking after him. Or maybe there’s more than one.”

“Why would you do that? Why would you think it? Don’t put that out into the universe. There’s just one. That’s it. That will make it six. A nice even number.”

“Number six must be pretty damn big then.”

“You know what? You’re off my Christmas card list. There’s no way we’re running away together. You totally shit the bed. No second chances for you.

“What if I bring you chocolate?”

“Not even then. You just had to jinx the entire thing.”

Koen gives an over dramatic pout.

“Buddy, I have seen better pouts on a much bigger man. That won’t work on me. You have nothing on Tyler’s pout.”

“He doesn’t pout.”

“He sure as shit does. I’m going to prove it one day. I’m going to catch him doing it and take a picture. Then I’ll have the evidence. Tanner has the EXACT same pout; he mostly does it when he’s sleeping.”

“Speaking of pictures, I’ve got a little something for ya.”   Koen reaches into the side pocket  of his cargo pants, pulling out his cell and then thumbing through the gallery; choosing the image he wants and offering the phone to her. “Thought it would make you smile. The world’s a shitty place when you don’t. You got yourself a pretty nice smile.”

“You’ve been taking ass kissing lessons from the best, haven’t you,” she chides, then pops the last of her breakfast into her mouth and wipes her hands on her thighs. “Oh...my...god…”  she breathes, and almost squeals in delight at the sight before her. Her husband long before the hardness and weariness brought on by his time in the military, substance abuse issues, and the dangers of the job. Before all of those demons took hold of him and he’d yet to go under a tattoo artist’s needle and no scars marred his body.  Tall and lean; broad shouldered and bearing the start of the strong and solid physique of a soldier. A brush cut and a smooth, clean face; the smile -genuine and pure- making his eyes crinkle and sparkle.

“Back when he couldn’t even grow a proper beard yet,” Koen muses. “When he was still wet behind the ears. Nothing hard ass about that bloke in the picture, is there.”

“Where did you get this?” Esme can’t explain it; the tug at her heart and the emotion choking at her and the tears that well in her eyes. There’s something so surreal about it; seeing the person you love long before a hard and unpredictable life got a hold of them.

“Found a box of old pictures when I was going through some stuff back home. Meant to show it to him, but never got around to it. You mentioned before that you’ve never seen what he looked like before...well...before all of this.”

“I’ve only ever ever seen one picture of him. When he was five; with his mom on his first day of kindergarten.  He doesn’t have any other ones; he says it’s not worth the grief he’ll get if he asks his dad if he has any.   This is…I don’t know...it’s amazing. You have no idea what this means to me; seeing this. ESPECIALLY right now. This is everything. You can’t possibly understand what this does for me.”

“I think I do. I know how you feel about him. That you’re just as much a fool in love as he is.”

“I certainly am,” she smiles. “How old is he here?”

“Nineteen. Hadn’t been out of basic long; a couple weeks maybe. When he was a cocky little shit and as green as fresh baby shit.  Cute, ain’t he?”

“Very cute. It’s weird seeing him like this. I’ve only seen MY Tyler. The one I’ve spent seven years with.  I’ve never seen THIS Tyler. I know that sounds strange.”

“I’ve heard stranger.”

“Fourteen year old me would have had a huge crush on him.”

“What was fourteen year old Esme like?”

“Awkward. Geeky. Short as fuck and chubby.  I had braces and jet black hair and I dressed like a goth. Big old Doc Marten boots that went up to my knees and everything.”

“Now THAT I’d like to see.”

“I don’t even have pictures of ME when I was that young. Tyler’s never seen old photos of me, either. I think the youngest he’s ever seen me was when I was twenty-three and just got into the Corps.  It’s what happens; when your family is toxic and you’d rather not deal with them. Can you send this to me? I’d  love to have this. And I’d love to show the kids. Especially Millie. She’d like to see her daddy when he was young and cute.”

“I’ll send it to ya. And when we get home, I’ll bring that box down and we can go through it. I’m sure there’s more you’d love to have. “

“Thank you.” She can’t hold back the tears. “You have no idea what it means to me. Even just having one picture. And I’m sorry; that I’m a whiny bitch baby. I would like to be able to blame it on the baby and my hormones, but it’s not those things. It’s just me. I’m not exactly having the best twenty four hours. I miss my kids. I hate being so far away from them. Especially Addie. But I can’t leave Tyler here. I just can’t.”

“I could stay,” Koen offers. “He wouldn’t be alone, you know that.”

“And I appreciate it, I do. But I need to be here with him. I didn’t leave him seven years ago, and I’m sure as hell not leaving him now. It’ll be better; when he gets sent to a hospital back home. Closest one is an hour from the house. It’ll be better than.”

“Well I’ll stick around as long as you need me to. Sort of made a promise that I’d take care of ya. I ain’t breaking it.”

“You’re all heart, Koen. You can pretend to be surly and hard ass all you want. I’m onto you.”

“Yeah, well I kind of like that giant, dumb ass bloke you’re married to. And you’re growing on me. So I figure I might as well step up and take his spot and treat like you like the queen you are.”

“You smooth talker,” she teases, ruffling his hair and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you. For the picture. You really don’t know how grateful I am for it. And thanks for being here; for both of us.”

“Anytime, sunshine.”

“And thank you for being with him yesterday. I could tell he was scared and in pain, and when I think what would have happened if he’d been alone…”

“Well he wasn’t. Alone. So don’t even think about that.”

“Thank you for getting him out of there. At least if he DID die, he wouldn’t have been left there. I don’t think I’d ever get over that; if I had to leave him here. I couldn’t cope with that.”

“Let’s not think about that, yeah? He got through it. He got out of there and it’s only uphill from here.”

“He really thought he was going to die, didn’t he.”

“Honestly? We all thought he was going to die.”

She releases a long, shaky sigh and blinks back tears.  “I’m glad you were there with him. At least if the worst happened, he wouldn’t have been by himself. That is my biggest fear when it comes to the job; that if it DOES happen, he’ll be alone. I don’t know why it bothers me as much as it does. I just don’t want him to be alone...you know...IF…”

“Can’t dwell on stuff like that. You’ll drive yourself insane. Or give yourself gray hair.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t already HAVE gray hair.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“I appreciate you feeding my ego, but I know you can see it. And believe, every one of my gray hairs has Tyler’s name on them. Maybe TJ too. Go figure; the junior being a TRUE junior.”

“That kid is his dad through and through. Tough on the outside, all heart on the inside. And that Millie…”

“Female version of him.”

“Exactly. It’s fitting if you ask me; him having a girl first and her being just like him. Gonna have his hands full with her.”

“She called last night. Wanting to talk to him. She had a bad dream and he always makes her feel better after a bad dream. Daddy’s the one that chases all the monsters away. She has so much faith in him; she knows he’d never ignore her. She’s already questioning why she can’t get a hold of him. I have to tell them; I can’t keep lying to them. And I’d rather they hear it from me than someone else. They’ll take it better if it comes from me, I think.”

Koen nods in agreement.

“But on the bright side, he had a really good night. An amazing night, actually. He woke up. Twice. Once for the nurse, once for me.”

Koen frowns.

“What?”

“He woke up?”

Esme nods. “The first time, Julie...his night nurse…said he woke up and   wanted to know who the hell she was and that he asked for me. And he even told her he was feeling sick and she gave him some meds for it.”

“Hmm…”

“Second time, he opened his eyes and looked right at me. Told me to not cry. He said he wasn’t in any pain and that he was just tired. And he asked if the baby was okay and he said he loved me. It was amazing; to see him open his eyes and hear his voice.”

“Are you sure? That this happened?”

“What do you mean am I sure? Of course I’m sure. Why wouldn't I be?”

“Thought the doctor said they weren’t going to bring him out sedation for a few days? At least.”

“Julie said it isn’t uncommon; moments of wakefulness and some lucidity.  It’s just sedation, it’s not a medically induced coma  like last time.”

“He actually woke up? After everything he went through during the day? All the surgeries, the amount of meds they’re pushing into him? He opened his eyes and talked to you?”

“That’s  exactly what happened. Why are you questioning it? I wouldn’t lie about this.”

“I’m not saying you’re lying. Maybe you were dreaming. Maybe you were hallucinating from lack of sleep.”

“I wasn’t dreaming and I wasn’t seeing things. He woke up, looked at me, and talked to me. It happened. It was real.”

“Esme, don’t take this the wrong way, but maybe it was wishful thinking on your part and…”

“It happened,” she insists. “I was there. I witnessed it.”

“And I was there in that storage and in that van. I know what kind of shape he was in; I know how close he was to lights out. Permanently. And you’re telling me, after all the injuries, all the surgeries, all the meds, he just woke up? The same day?”

“I know it sounds crazy. And I wouldn’t believe it if someone told me either. But I SAW it. With my own two eyes. And you know how tough he is; how damn stubborn he is.   Does it really surprise you that of all the people who would fight THIS hard, it’s Tyler?  You know him; you know how strong he is.  You know he’d do anything for me and the kids. So is that big of a stretch that he’d wake up like that? Even if it was just to give me some hope?”

Koen sighs.

“He woke up AND he talked to me. And you know what? It was incredible and made me feel better; to know his brain is working and that he’s not giving up. I needed that; some kind of sign that he’s going to be okay And he gave it to me.”

“So why isn’t he awake now?” Koen challenges.

“Maybe he used up all his energy last night and he needs to build it back up again.”

“If he’s got it in him to wake up last night, he should be awake right now.  I’ve got some shit to say to him for scaring me as bad as he did. How come he’s not up now and talking to me?”

“I don’t know. I only know what happened last night. I only know…”

“Maybe I don’t want to talk to you,” Tyler’s voice -weak, groggy, and slightly slurred by the effects of medication- pipes up. “Now shut the fuck up. You’re given me a headache.”

“See!” Esme smiles triumphantly.  “I told you.”

****

When she returns from taking a much needed shower, she finds Rata outside Tyler’s room tightly clutching a gift bag from the shop in the front lobby and pacing at a near frantic rate. It’s odd to see him this way, clearly frazzled and nervous shoulders tense;  chewing on his bottom lip and occasionally stopping and peering into the room. Normally he’s the ‘life of the party’; clueless in an adorable way, always acting far less intelligent than he actually is  just to get a laugh. Possessing an air of confidence without an ounce of cockiness; quick with sarcastic comments and witty comebacks. The ‘uncle’ that always sits at the kids’ tables during Christmas dinner and then helps build lego sets and put together toy car race tracks instead of socializing with the adults.

“Hey you,” she warmly greets, and lays a comforting hand on his back. “You okay?”

He responds by wrapping her in a huge; strong, muscular arms noticeably trembling.

“You alright?” Esme asks, as she runs her hands up and down his biceps.  “You don’t look so good. What’s going on?”

“I don’t like hospitals much. Especially a place like THIS in a hospital.  Where people are really bad.  EXTRA bad.”

“He’s a lot better than anyone thought he would be. Especially so soon And he doesn’t look THAT awful, I swear. He’s even waking up for a little bits at a time. A person who is ‘extra bad’, wouldn't be doing that, would they?”

“I just don’t know if I can go in there just yet. I mean, I was there. Yesterday. In the van. I saw what he was like; how bad he was. And I’ve never seen Tyler like that. I’ve seen him shot a couple times during our tours in the Middle East, but those were nothing. Just flesh wounds, you know? But that? Yesterday? Those weren’t just flesh wounds. And by the time he got back home seven years ago…”

“He was already somewhat on his feet and in rehab.”

Rata nods. “He was almost back to himself. It’s going to be a long while before he gets back to himself this time.”

“Yesterday was pretty awful, huh?

He releases a small, shaky sigh. “Wasn’t so much how he looked. All the blood and what not. I mean, that was bad, don’t get me wrong. It was fucking awful. Pardon my language.”

“I hear and say worse all the time. You don’t have to filter yourself around me. You’ve met my husband, right? You can’t be easily offended AND stay married to him. It just won’t work.”

“It was terrible. A fucking nightmare. To see a friend of yours THAT messed up. But the worst part? It was what he SOUNDED like. When he was talking to you. I’ve never heard him sound like that. Ever.”

“Neither have I,” she admits. “Not seven years ago, not even the two times he tried to...well, you know.  He never sounded like THAT.”

“Like he was going to die.”

“Yesterday I tried telling myself he didn’t sound that way. That he was just tired and scared and in pain and he just needed it to end. I convinced myself that he didn’t sound THAT bad. Near death. Now I realize I was just trying to make myself feel better, know what I mean?”

Rata nods.

“He was a lot closer to it than I want to admit. I thought nothing could be worse than seven years ago. I was so wrong.”

“It was what he said to you. How he said it. He was pretty sure he was never going to see you again.  That’s the only thing he was really scared of; the thought of not getting to be with you anymore.  You and the kids. You’re his entire world. I didn’t think I realized how much he loves you all until I heard the things that came out of his mouth.   Opened my eyes; made me see him a different way. A good way, just different. He’s lucky. He’s got someone that loves him as much as he loves them. That’s something I think we all want but never seem to find.”

“Sometimes I wonder what I ever did right to deserve him,” she confesses. “And he’s here because of you guys. You and Koen. You did whatever you had to go get him here alive. So thank you. I know it wasn’t easy; what you had to see and do. I was there myself. Seven years ago. I know how hard it is.”

“I feel like such a dick. For not being able to go in there. Like a total pussy.”

“You’re not any of those things. People handle stuff like this in different ways. But you should go in there. He’s really not that bad. And he was awake and talking a bit to Koen. I don’t know if he still is, but I do know he’d like to see you. I know how much he appreciates what you did to help him. I’ll go in with you if that would help.”

“It would. A bit. But first,” he offers the gift bag. “ I have something for you. And the baby.”

“The baby won’t be here for months. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. Just a little something.”

She reaches into the bag, smiling at the stuffed tiger that she pulls out of its confines. “How did you remember the tradition? Every Rake baby gets a stuffed animal?”

“Just something that stuck with me, I guess.”

“It’s adorable. Thank you. Better not let Millie get a hold of it. That girl and her stuffed animals, I swear.  You didn't have to do this. You didn’t…”  her voice trails off, fingers reaching for the familiar object tied to the ribbon around the tiger’s neck. Eyes narrowed at first, then slowly widening when the realization sets in it.   “Where did you find this? Where…?”

“I didn’t find it. Tyler gave it to me. Before we got to the storage place. He asked me to give it to you if something went wrong.”

“He did?” Esme unties the thin piece of fabric, sliding the ring off of it and then cradling it in her palm.

“He wanted me to make sure you got it. If he didn’t make it. Said it was important that you got it.”

“I thought it was lost,” her voice cracks with emotion. “I thought maybe he took it off beforehand and put it in his pocket and it fell out. Or that the ER staff misplaced it. I didn’t think I’d ever see it again.”

“I should have given it to you right away. Yesterday. Please don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying because of what you did or didn’t do. I thought it was gone. Forever. And I know it’s not much; it’s not expensive or fancy or anything like that. But it’s his. All the dents and scratches that he’s on it over the years. Sounds weird, but they all mean something.  I really thought I’d never see it again. And I didn’t think  I’d be as torn about it as I was. But it killed me inside; when I couldn’t find it. It felt like a piece of him was gone and I was just waiting for all the other pieces to disappear too. Thank you; you have no idea how much this means to me. To have this back.”

She hooks the handle of the bag around her wrist, then reaches around to the nape of her neck and removes the necklace -the custom made piece with the beach glass Millie had found- and slips the ring onto the chain.

“I’ll do it,” Rata offers, and steps behind her. Large fingers clumsy and struggling at first, but then manage to secure the clasp.

Esme lays a palm over the ring, firmly pressing it into her chest. Feeling the smooth, cool   metal with its many imperfections, the familiar weight of it against her. And the relief that simple piece of jewellery brings is profound, stifling sobs with both of her hands as she turns and tightly embraces her friend.

[spiderbixch]

arguments with peter

requested? :: nope but it was inspired by @parkerbenjaminpete and their anon about starting shit with peter about thor lol, but everyone should request something for me to write 😋

summary :: quick little hc’s on what arguments are like with peter :))

warnings :: cursing, fluff and a bit of angst at the end, maybe one or two incredibles references, shitty writing

petty arguments

you guys bicker bout little shit

like which brand of bagels are better, out of all the avengers who could swim the fastest, stupid stuff, etc.

peter is always the first to start the argument

it’s totally not because the way your nose flares when you’re mad is cute

you’re always the one to give in because you really don’t care

*whispers* because you’re right 99.99999% of the time

^ ‘fine you’re right—ugh’

you pout while you finish your homework in silence

and you brush peter off every time he says something, cuz you don’t give a flying fuckkkkkk

^ ‘babe you sure you don’t need help with number five?’

^ ‘nope’

peter gives you kisses all over your face to make you stop pouting because he feels bad

you can’t ignore his puppy dog eyes and cheek kisses—you can try but you simply can’t

okay so one night peter is being a little fanboy and was showing you “how cool” his thor impression was

cuz he’s a nerd cool boi 😎

and as much as you love this nerd cool boi, he was boring the fuck out of you and you just wanted to watch netflix!

this movie night was your turn and you weren’t gong to miss out on it

^ ‘but [y/n] just listen one more time!!!! i sound just like thor’

nope you’re not having it

^ ‘peter no—stfu im trying to watch the damn movie, dylan o’brien is in it !’

did you just say that??

peter’s head cocked to the side so hard he could’ve broke his neck

^ ‘thor is w a y more sexier [y/n]’

you look at him and smirked

you were about awake a storm

^ ‘thor? ha you’re funny peter, he’s not that cute’

peter looked down at you and his arms were crossed

T R I G G E R E D

bruh peter would be fucking triggered asf ‘[y/n] take that back—taKE iT BAcK’

^ ‘NEVER BITCH’

serious arguments

the two of you rarely have serious arguments

but when you do OH BOY

you both stubborn bulls butt heads, it’s always about his work as spider-man

yes you were madly in love with your best friend peter parker, but you just wanted him to be happy and safe, you knew that it wasn’t going to be easy

when peter came late to your date you were sleeping on his couch with your head buried deep in his sweatshirt, it made you feel closer to him when he was away

sometimes you stole his sweatshirt, whether it fit you or not, it was like holding onto a piece of him

he crawled his way over to you, a bloody mess gasping for air

peter’s bloody hand grabbed your foot scaring the living shit out of you—at first you thought he was a monster

but you quickly realized that the mister was your boyfriend and jumped to get the first aid kit

^ ‘peter! peter what the he’ll happened?’

he couldn’t talk, it was all too painful, instead he grumbled and winced at your handy work

you weren’t the best nurse, but you learned a few tricks from nat

you put a wet rag above his swollen and bruised face and gave him a glass of water

^ ‘thank you..[y/n]’

oh so now he can talk?? so?? he must??? be able to explain?? right??

you were pacing back and forth, spewing your anger from left and right about his stupidity

then YOUR boyfriend, peter parker, had the audacity to mumble ‘im fine’

^ ‘you may not need your glasses anymore, but you’re still blind’

ROASTED

then he’d shout at you back wincing inbetween his shouting, saying it was for “the greater good”

but you were a mess, you couldn’t put your sentences together

BOOM TEARS

^ ‘i love you peter parker! i-i can’t lose you do you hear me? i’m not strong enough’

you’re back would be turned so he wouldn’t see you cry, your eyeliner now running down your cheeks

peter grabbed your wrist and brought it so his swollen lips, ‘don’t cry—please babe, fuck im sorry’

he yanked you down to his side, putting his forehead onto yours, his chocolate puppy eyes staring back into yours

that was your weakness, it didn’t make all forgiven, but you sat on the couch with his head it your lap

playing with his curls until you both fell asleep

in the morning he knew he was going to be in big trouble, but for now he was going to bathe in your love

[fictionalwonder]

Hemlock Grove: Silly, Gory, Netflix Filler:

The last thing I was looking to watch was another vampire or werewolf drama but there was something about the Twin Peaks meets True Blood set-up, alongside the scare powered production credentials of horror director/actor/producer Eli Roth, that made me curious about Hemlock Grove. All twelve episodes of season one dropped April 2013 on NetFlix but in my world though it failed to net any of the buzz of say House of Cards or Orange is the New Black, I discovered Hemlock Grove long after the fact but it seems just in time before season two. Lack of an instantaneous fandom is not necessarily an immediate reflection on the quality of a show. It's all too easy to get lost in the binge watching shuffle of the current tv buffet. Many a tv gem has taken their time to build to a critical mass of appreciation; case in point Breaking Bad and Orphan Black who eventually met popularity on the slow audience build. However, by episode two of Hemlock Grove I realized just how narrow the demographic of whom it might appeal to really was. Someone will appreciate it though especially camp horror fans who like their gore mixed with a little or a lot of silly.

Based on the novel by Brian McGreevy,the story about a creepy family in a creepy town is well-tread territory, and Hemlock Grove is an unabashed mash-up of Dark Shadows, True blood and Twin Peaks. It wears those inspirations as much on its sleeve as it does inspirations from Poe, Lovecraft and Shelly. And it's the later that Hemlock Grove really is the 2014 spawn of with its gothic tones and grisly horror matched by broody model pretty teens, deceitful adults and lots of mangled bodies.

Things open with the horrific murder of a local girl, and it lets us know we're in for a pretty gruesome ride. The story unravels slowly though, and it really isn't until the third episode that the body is discovered, and the stakes are raised. Until then we spend a lot of time becoming familiar with this small Pennsylvanian town, its sinister residents and the moody melodrama that makes up town life.

Famke Janssen plays wealthy widow Olivia Godfrey, who one character calls the “most despised woman” in town. Famke plays her as a Jessica Rabbit meets Maude Addams femme fatal who slinks around dripping with lots and lots of mystery; the biggest of which is where her accent could possibly be from. It might be British, maybe it's Eastern European; whatever the intention it was an interesting choice by Janssen. I’m still not sure if it's bad acting or a genius character move but everytime she opens her mouth with another"dahling"it kind of stops me in my tracks. By the time they delivered the obligatory flashback, it made just as little sense. Part of Olivia Godfrey's infamy comes from being a major shareholder of the "nobody knows what the hell goes on in there" Godfrey Institute of Bio Medical Research. She is also busy carrying on an affair with one of the Institute's other shareholders, Norman Godfrey, played by Dougray Scott, who is the married brother of Olivia's late husband, who had committed suicide after the birth of their third child.

Olivia's sexy creepy gene is quite evidently passed on to her broody chain-smoking man-child son, Roman Godfrey, who she is just a little too close to. Played by Bill Skarsgård, another one of Stellan Skarsgård's offspring quick on his brother's heels as a sexy bad boy with vampiric tendencies, he does a good job of inhabiting Roman’s perversion and compassion. We know tow things about him from the get go: he has a kinky bloodlust, and he loves his sister dearly, a deformed giant who speaks through her smart phone. Roman eventually fosters a kind of bromance with town newcomer, lone wolf Peter Rumancek. Played by Landon Liboiron with Lili Taylor (always a welcome site) as his hard-living nomadic mother. Peter's friendship with Roman actually provides one of the most interesting relationships to watch on the show if not on tv in general. And it is their Scooby Doo meets Supernatural adventures that brings everything to a head over the twelve episodes.

Somehow connected to it all is the mysterious Godfrey Bio-Medical Research Institute that is so mysterious even owner Olivia doesn't know what the hell goes on inside. To her credit she admits she doesn't really care. Who does know is creepy head-scientist Dr. Johann Pryce, actor Joel de la Fuente - who just oozes mad scientist under his too polite bureaucratic persona. The rest of the cast includes Battle Star Galactic alumni, Kandyse McClure as the hard drinking god fearing wildlife/monster hunter Dr. Clementine Chasseur, and her fellow former BSG regular Aaron Douglas as the thick-skulled town sheriff and father of two perfectly bitchy but funny twin daughters.

Hemlock grove unravels at a slow pace, and characters often say I feel like something is about to happen and so too does the viewer. All the creepy violin music, the forboding stares and threatening vibes inevitably do devolve into a more talk than action type of story-telling. On a better written show like True Detective, where the sinister atmospherics and eccentric characters get equally compelling verse, it can work. Hemlock, however, trips over its own dialogue, which is disjointed and clichéd at best. One character actually alludes to the lycanthropy of another by saying, “One had to step in before things got too hairy.” Really!? At least there was some sense to made of the line for all its punniness unlike the stream of consciousness that produced, "There are dreams sir that you wake up with teeth marks and then there is the smell of coffee.” If you know what that means, please leave in the comments below. It seems odd to get nit-picky by lines of dialogue but in Hemlock Grove's defense the nonsensical nature of the writing is actually what kind of makes it fun to watch.

Hovering between the youthful face of CW and the skinmax lite of HBO, Hemlock Grove wanders less down the road of Twin Peaks or True Blood and more into Once Upon A Time meets Edgar Allen Poe territory. While it sets out to tackle the super compelling theme of the monster within, by half way through the first season it devolves into a hypothetical what if Dracula, the werewolf, and Frankenstein's monster all went to high school together. An r-rated Smallville for horror fans, by the time the story stumbles into crazy town by episode eight. which indulges in way too many dream sequences, the mounting nonsense accumulates to the point where either you succumb, sticking around out of sheer curiosity to just what kind of crazy will happen next, or you turn it off.

Being a child of Eli Roth who found fame as the father of the Hostel franchise, you would expect gore, and it happens only so often but when it does face ripping and intestines spilling are par for the course. Hemlock Grove has received some well-earned note for the best screen refresh on werewolf transformations, which Roth admits was American Werewolf in London inspired. Overall though things are really more gory than scary, and if it's horror you're thinking about, the dialogue is a far worse offender.

Series composer Nathan Barr and Lisa Richardson as the music supervisor do a good job cementing the soundscape, which swings between sub woofer throb intros, mournful violin cues and completely left field song choices. It actually fits quite well with the kind of moody cray cray camp that Hemlock Grove is. Doing to Gothic horror stories what One Upon A Time does to fairy-tales but in a far sexier, and if you believe it even sillier fashion, Hemlock Grove is just weird enough to cut it for a rainy weekend binge view or horror filled pre slumber night cap.

Overall I'd say A for effort but C for execution giving it a in 2.8 out of 5

Trigger warning for rape, extreme cat danger and teen romance

[emilywatchescursedshow]

Spn Season 1 Review

Hoboy

First, the live blogs of the last 4 episodes were done in a haze of jetlag depression so were less specific to what was actually happening in the episodes than normal and contained no extraneous information. HOWMEVER. I will get into those episodes more in this recap because:

1. I do not feel like the season really Led Up to this finale. Part of that could be because I took a bit of a break halfway through, but I think also the groundwork for the Sam/John parallel they tell us about was not really set up in previous episodes. 2. I think that the characterization of the brothers and their relationship to John is really Interesting in these episodes and the drama of that is a big part of the show as a whole, so the last several episodes are pretty relevant here.

THEMING The theme of season 1 is more or less: family. How do you handle family trauma and loss? How do you as a parent protect your children vs let them have independent lives (or just suck major ass)? To what extent is your family holding you back? Etc. The two sort of relationship dynamics this plays in is the Sam/Dean dynamic and the John/sons dynamic.

DEAN Dean’s characterization through this theme remains pretty consistent: he wants to be with his family. He showed up to get Sam at the beginning of the season, and he wants to keep them all alive at the end of the season instead of sacrificing John to kill the demon. The irony is that the season ends with them all “dying” (I know they’re not dead, but right now that’s what the show wants us to believe) and Dean’s insistence on family unity is what ends up getting them all killed.

Dean’s story line throughout has been one of responsibility assumed too early. After their mom died, his dad basically made him co-parent. Dean had to give up his ambitions to bend to his dad’s wishes while also trying to protect Sam from John and various monsters. It makes sense for him, given that backstory, that keeping the family together is his highest priority: he has been forced to give up all sense of self to keep his family safe, so if they die then he literally has nothing. I think it’s interesting that Dean is the only one of him or Sam who actually knew their mother, and yet Sam is the one who gets a mother-relevant character arc.

That might be because of the next aspect of Dean’s character we see: he likes to have sex with women. I tend to be pretty sensitive to misogyny/mistreatment of women on screen, so either I’ve lost my mind or I’m already watching this show through a very queer lens because Dean’s treatment of women throughout the season Did Not Bother Me. The only thing that really rang sour was at the beginning of Provenance when Dean is lying to women about his job to get into bed with them, but even then, like, eh? The whole scene (and all the other such scenes) are depicted with a lightheartedness that is hard to read malice into, and Jackles plays that part with such a wide-eyed “Wow! I get to have sex now!” that it’s hard not to feel anything but happy for the guy. I do suspect that Dean is supposed to be characterized as “treating women like whores/expendable” and so does not have an attachment to his mother in this season because he’s not allowed to have a complex relationship with a woman.

SAM Uh boy. So Sam’s arc begins with his girlfriend getting immolated - we learn later that Sam wanted to propose to her and so she was getting in the way of the demon’s plans for “kids like him.” Whatever that means - the show does not communicate its stakes to us AT ALL, more on that later. Sam gets some episodes of characterization throughout. The only two I can remember are the one with the abused psychic and the one where a woman decides she’s in love with him within seconds of meeting him. In neither episode to I really feel like I understand Sam as a character. We are told at various points that he really loved Jessica and her death has affected him greatly. At the beginning of the season, he dreams about it often, but these dreams end up being psychic in nature (I think?) and fall off by mid season. He doesn’t have a keepsake of hers to gaze at longingly or any other way of showing he’s having trouble letting go. Dean basically lets him off the leash to go kiss Sarah in Provenance, which he seems pretty happy to do and has no real guilt over after. Sam’s characterization is carried out very directly - we are told what he is feeling or had felt, instead of some combination of saying it via dialogue and reading it from his actions. I’ve mentioned that I don’t think Jarp is especially strong as an actor, but I have to chalk this up to both weaknesses in writing and acting because scenes that communicate Sam’s internal world are largely nonexistent IMO.

We are told that the connection between their mother’s death and Jess’s death has had a great impact on Sam. He believes that he is cursed so that the “people he loves” (read, women) will die. While in a broad sense this might be true as the demon does admit to have targeted Sam, the supposed “curse” is not really dealt with by Sam except as a barrier in his journey to move on from lost love. Jess’s death served as Sam’s call to adventure at the beginning of the season and should give some emotional connection to Sam’s continued commitment to hunting, but until the final episodes Sam’s involvement in the monster world is continually explained as “wants to find dad” and not “wants to break curse.” In these episodes, Sam’s Jess backstory comes back and we are told that his desire to kill the demon makes him “like John.” Which. Is. Stupid. Let me explain.

In terms of the theming, Sam’s wanting to kill the demon even though it might cost the lives of any number of the Winchesters makes sense because of his established relationship with his family. He wanted to have a normal life which alienated him from Dean and John. Sam has very negative memories of John, and has little brother blindness to the stuff Dean did for him growing up and is largely unhappy with Dean as well. Thus it is not surprising that to Sam, a Winchester dying is not as large a price to pay if it means that Sam gets to have a normal life.

HOWEVER. I am giving the show a LOT of credit here because they DO NOT make that connection, instead going for the stupid “Sam is like John” parallel which is treated almost like a surprise reveal. John’s reasons for killing the demon are NOT Sam’s reasons for killing the demon. John is motivated by revenge to an insane degree: it has consumed his life and the lives of both of his sons. Sam is not revenge motivated. He moves on from Jess’s death in literally THE EPISODE before the finale run starts. Sam is motivated by what he has always been motivated by: his desire for a normal life, including a wife who wont burst into flames. So on a thematic level, short-handing these character conflicts as “Sam is like John” (which is explicitly stated multiple times throughout these episodes) does not work because these characters are approaching family from a very different place even if they end up with the same goal.

I do want to mention that I think Sam’s backstory of wanting a normal life could have been set up better; the show does a good job with Dean’s “too much responsibility too young” child stand-in, but Sam does not get a “I just wanted to go to prom” child stand-in. Which I miss because that would be HILARIOUS. I think the issue the show has here with Sam is, in short, that Sam wanting to be normal is Very Boring, whereas the world of monsters and how Tortured and Jaded everyone is is much Sexier.

JOHN The text of the show is pretty unabashed about telling us things that John did that a reasonable audience member could interpret as being Very Bad. In the brief moments he has on the show, the dynamic between him and his sons is mixed. There are plenty of heartfelt family moments, and there are plenty of fights. I think the show is definitely weakest when it is following John by himself. I do not care about John except as he relates to Sam and Dean, and really if he is in any sort of danger I just want him to die based on how awful he is as a person, so the suspense does not swing the way the writers maybe wanted it to. 

I think the twist at the end, where Dean realizes the demon has possessed their dad because he’s acting nicer, just b a r e l y works based on what they’ve set up. Honestly, I think the real problem is that John Winchester’s actor does not, to me, read as having any onscreen charisma. In the altercations that he has with Sam, I don’t really feel a threat from him. There isn’t any explosive or destructive energy, just sort of “your mom is mad you ate the last of her ice cream” energy. I’ve literally BEEN a more intimidating fake drill sergeant than John Winchester and I’m 5 feet tall and 110 lbs. John has big sad wet dog energy. He can get mad, but not in a way that’s actually intimidating. Thus, him telling Dean that he’s proud is sort of like “yeah, I bet this milksop is proud or whatever” and not “wow I would have expected that character to be a lot more upset right now.” I get that family dynamics can be complicated and a parent can cause you Bone Pain with just a look that to anyone else would seem harmless, but this is a television show where things have to read on screen. One Look Bone Pain is a lot more nuanced to construct. I think John being Big Mean Drill Sergeant is what they’re trying for, but in my opinion he's mostly just annoying.

Anyway John sucks.

WHAT’S NOT THERE The above talks a lot about what *is* in the show vis. the family theme. But Emily, this is a monster show. What about the monsters? Well. What about them indeed.

This first season of Supernatural is very clearly referencing the tradition of The X-Files and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. A lot of former X-Files people are credited on the season and they mention BTVS by name in an episode that is clearly themed around season 6 Buffy villains. Howmever. Both TXF and BTVS have a very important thing that Supernatural does not. STAKES. And not just ones meant for vamps that then get ignored by SPNs stupid vamp lore voice over.

Both BTVS and TXF handle their monsters very differently. BTVS is a universe where the main character has been fully initiated into the world of monsters so that, throughout the course of the episode, it is reasonable for her to detail pretty specifically what the monster is and what it is capable of. On the other hand, the characters in TXF must always be kept on the edge of the monster world, getting faint glimpses here and there. Usually, Mulder has an expository scene giving information on “what is known” at the beginning of the episode and then further monstrosity is communicated to the audience via interstitial scenes that tell the audience what the monster is and where it’s going, introducing dramatic tension: AA NO SCULLY DON’T TOUCH THAT IT’S SUPER GROSS. Both avenues successfully communicate to the audience what the monsters are (approximately), what they can do, and what their motivations are. This means that in the climactic scene, the audience knows what the STAKES are. They know what might be lost of the main characters fail, they know what the characters need to overcome to succeed, and they know what the monster is trying to accomplish.

Now. Some of the MOTW episodes in Supernatural do communicate what the monster is and what it wants. Scarecrow and Bugs are two that come to mind that both do this. Tellingly, both of these episodes also seem very modeled on TXF (compare/contrast Bugs with the trash golem episode of TXF where Mulder hip thrusts after sticking a flamingo in the yard, essay for another time).

Home is the first Supernatural episode that I identified as being extremely plot-oriented after the pilot. It’s also the first episode after the pilot to give sole writing credit to Kripke. There are interstitial scenes wherein the audience sees spooky stuff happening. However, these scenes do not further the audience’s understanding of the monster - we already know the house is evil and trying to kill people, and that’s pretty much all those scenes show. Moreover, Sam and Dean do not learn more about the monster in the house during this episode; their arc is basically just “Wow, isn’t it strange that the house is spooky now? Our mom died here!” The resolution at the end is borderline incomprehensible and their mother just sort of. Appears. Out of nowhere and then vanishes again with very little emotional weight given to this occurrence later in the episode or in the next episode. My summary of Home was pretty much “I did not like this and don’t want to be mean.” I talked about how I like monsters in monster shows, whereas Supernatural is more of a soap opera.

And yeah, the finale of Supernatural (written by Kripke) basically follows that track as well. I don’t know what these demons are or what they want. I don’t know what they can do besides possess people. When Meg confronts people and talks all big it’s hard for me to take seriously because I don’t know what she wants or what she is capable of, except in that one scene where she wanted to fuck Sam which. gross!

This is what I mean by saying that Supernatural does not have stakes. When the choice between losing a family member verses not defeating the monster is posited, the only reason I as an audience member feel engaged is the family conflict that has been established. There is no tension about the monster because I just have to assume that it will do whatever the writers decide it should do. I’m not weighing the odds of the Winchesters winning, I’m just watching them point guns at each other and hoping for the best.

CONCLUSION Jensen Ackles does a good job of playing Dean and he should get an award especially for his performances in the last two episodes of the show. IMO, he basically carried the emotional weight of the conflict and really made us root for Sam to not shoot his dad which is HARD because of how badly John sucks. I’m going to keep watching this show because of Jensen Ackles playing Dean Winchester. Fight me about it.

I think season 1 of Supernatural felt like watching two different shows with the same main characters. On the one hand, you have the MOTW episodes which invariably begin with “Here’s why we’re not tracking down our dad, even though that’s our stated motivation” and then tell a nice monster mystery with some good character beats. On the other hand, you have the series arc episodes, which are soap operas with demonic elements. I’m fine with it - because of Jensen Ackles as Dean Winchester. I’m interested to see what season 2 is like.

[entergamingxp]

Making a Video Game Hero: Action-Adventure Edition

April 24, 2020 12:00 PM EST

In our newest ongoing feature series, we’re putting together the ultimate video game hero for the action-adventure game of our dreams.

Nathan Drake. Aloy. Ezio Auditore da Firenze. Sam Porter Bridges. The list of great characters in action-adventure video games is long and vast. Each and every one of them possesses their own unique skill set that makes them the best of the best. But what if you were some kind of video game version of Dr. Frankenstein and wanted to build the best possible hero for the action-adventure genre? Who would you pick? What traits would you value the most? Who has the best abs?

Below, we’ve answered all those and more to make the ultimate action-adventure video game character. Of course, a list like this is highly subjective. So if you have other ideas, be sure to let us know in the comments. We’re also only putting one character per franchise on this list to ensure it’s not just all Yakuza’s Kiryu and Majima. Enough preamble. Let’s sharpen that bone saw and flip on the high-voltage electricity!

Brain: Batman (Arkham series) Runners’ Up: Aloy (Horizon Zero Dawn) and Sam Fisher (Splinter Cell series)

There are several different directions we could go in for this one. Do you take the exact genetic copy of one of the smartest women in the world? What about the mind of a super spy who’s lived through countless battlefields? Both are great options, and we’re sure you could think of a few others. However, there’s one super-genius that takes the cake.

Listen, Batman with prep is a dumb meme at this point, but the reasoning is sound. There is no other fictional character whose battle-hardened brain is more capable of getting through any situation than Bruce Wayne. No matter what the villains throw at our hero, the brain of the world’s greatest detective will give them the upper hand.

Eyes: Agent 47 (Hitman series) Runners’ Up: Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher series) and Ellie (The Last of Us)

As with most of these body parts, there are tons of options. Ellie from The Last of Us is particularly intriguing. She’s grown up in the middle of a zombie apocalypse and seen terrible things most of us can’t even dream of. If we went through that, we’d be a sobbing heap of a human, shoveling down Ben & Jerry’s and watching Barney re-runs just to get the memories to go away. But Ellie stands up to that adversity, looks it right in the eye, and refuses to back down.

But we want something a little more useful as a gameplay mechanic. The first idea that comes to our mind is Geralt of Rivia’s Witcher-enhanced cat-like eyes. His superpowered suite of abilities has given him night vision eyes, something that comes in handy, but isn’t as all-encompassing as other options. Instead, we’re going with Agent 47’s peepers.

The star of the Hitman series has the ability to instinctively “see” everything around him in ways that normal humans never could. Heck, the guy can “see” patrolling bad guys through walls! You don’t get much more useful eyeballs than that. Plus, that steely gaze will come in handy when you’re staring down the final boss.

Mouth: Ezio Auditore da Firenze (Assassin’s Creed series) Runners’ Up: Solid Snake (Metal Gear Solid series) and Nathan Drake (Uncharted series)

Okay, so we have a genius brain and a superpowered set of eyes. Now, all we need to finish off our creation’s head is a silver-tongue. At first, we were leaning toward the gruff voice of one Solid Snake. After all, his grizzled dialog is equal parts intimidating and hilarious. The man really has a knack for delivering over-the-top quips at exactly the wrong time.

However, while his voice undoubtedly sounds great, he lacks that charm we’re looking for in our leading role. Nathan Drake of Uncharted fame more than fits that bill, but even he can’t hold a candle to the suavest man in video games.

Let’s be honest, there isn’t a sexier accent on the planet than Italian. It’s not called the language of love without a reason. And, while Ezio Auditore is certainly one of the best assassins to ever grace the digital world, it’s that Italian charm that’s turned him into a fan favorite. All the other candidates’ hopes will just have to requiescat in pace.

Torso: Kiryu Kazuma (Yakuza series) Runners’ Up: Kratos (God of War series) and The Boss (Saints Row series)

Let’s talk about The Boss first. They have the willingness to endure as many surgeries as needed to make their body look however we need it to. Whether we need to be the most jacked woman alive or a beanpole of a man, The Boss is ready and willing to visit the local plastic surgeon and make it happen. Their dedication to our cause is certainly admirable, but we want something that’s stood the test of time. And there are no better options than the two best dads in gaming.

Listen, dad bods are hot right now, and there are none hotter than Kiryu and Kratos. Look at those glistening abs. Marvel at those pumped-up pecs. Watch the sweat sparkle on their massive shoulders. These guys know a thing or two about weight training and proper nutrition. We’d bet dollars to donuts that neither of these guys has even eaten a donut before. However, Kratos is a demigod, Kiryu is just a 50-year-old dude. An incredibly ripped 50-year-old dude with a sick tattoo and deadly fighting skills, but just a dude nonetheless. Thus, we’re giving him the nod for the sheer willpower it must take to stay that in shape as a “regular” human.

Left Arm: Link (The Legend of Zelda series) Runners’ Up: Nero (Devil May Cry series) and Spider-Man (Marvel’s Spider-Man)

We’ll be honest, this one was probably the hardest to come up with for runners’ up. Sure, Spider-Man could take the spot and give us the power to web-sling around the gigantic open-world map our game would be set inside. He might not canonically be left-handed, but he does have those web-shooters on both arms. That said, we want a true southpaw for this list.

Nero is another potential option given his sword prowess with that arm. However, his right arm is the one that held the Devil Bringer, making us wonder if he’s a true lefty. Instead, we’ve gone with the hero of Hyrule himself.

Before Skyward Sword went and ruined everything in the name of making Link’s movement feel good for the general public, the hero had always been left-handed. Nintendo decided to keep the travesty going with Breath of the Wild, but true lefties know that Link is one of them. It only feels right to have one of gaming’s best southpaws grafted onto our inhuman monster of a character. Nintendo may have forgotten about you, but we haven’t.

Right Arm: Chris Redfield (Resident Evil 5, mostly) Runners’ Up: Marcus Holloway (Watch Dogs 2) and Samus Aran (Metroid Prime series)

Since we have an expert swordsman’s left arm, we can get a little more creative with our right. Samus presents an interesting option. After all, her right arm is a freaking laser cannon with several options for alternative fire modes. It’s tough to think of anything more rad than that. Marcus Holloway is a bit of an out-there selection, but his hacking ability would certainly come in handy in a pinch.

That said, there’s really only one option. We could go on and on about why we’re selecting Chris Redfield’s rippling right arm for this slot, but instead, we’ll just show you. Watch this man punch a boulder and tell us there’s another choice. You can’t.

Legs: The Prince (Prince of Persia series) Runners’ Up: Sam Porter Bridges (Death Stranding) and Ryu Hayabusa (Ninja Gaiden Black)

If we’re talking about sheer power output, it’s hard to argue with those bodacious thighs that Sam Porter Bridges built up delivering packages across America. Seriously, go strap 200+ plus pounds of freight to your back and walk around the neighborhood. His quads have to be powerlifter strong. How much do you think Sam squats? It has to be north of a thousand pounds.

If we were looking to be a little more nimble, you’d love to have legs like Ryu Hayabusa. The way he effortlessly bounds around an environment on his way to cutting up baddies with his katana is something to be jealous of. However, what neither of these characters has is the ability to control time and space.

Enter The Prince. Not only is he an expert in parkour, but, if he does screw up his fancy movement, he can just rewind time. That’s an invaluable addition that we just can’t pass up. Some might argue that it’s actually his dagger that controls time. While those people would be correct, the dagger is on a belt that sits on The Prince’s hips, which are basically his legs. So, in this court of law, it counts.

Hair: Bayonetta (Bayonetta series) Runner Up: John Marston (Red Dead Redemption)

Likely the easiest selection of the whole list, but let’s pretend for a second that anyone else had a chance. John Marston has one of the manliest beards in video gaming. Those bear claw scars scream “I’m grizzled, don’t mess with me”. And, while his head hair is grossly stringy, it definitely gives him a further air of someone who you don’t want to cross. Unfortunately, he can’t use said hair to fight off the bad men.

There are a few video characters who can fight with their hair, but none of them have the pizzaz that Bayonetta does. Her Wicked Weave techniques are as stylish as they are deadly, making her hair the perfect thing to (quite literally) cap off our creation.

That is quite the hero, if we do say so ourselves. Of course, you might disagree. If you do, feel free to give us your creation in the comments below. It was tough to leave off people like Lara Croft or Corvo, but we had to stop somewhere. And, if you liked this list, be sure to check back later as we’re planning to put out one of these for several other genres in the near future.

April 24, 2020 12:00 PM EST

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/04/making-a-video-game-hero-action-adventure-edition/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=making-a-video-game-hero-action-adventure-edition

[theliterateape]

Our Weekend with Michael Jackson and R. Kelly

By David Himmel

The first rule of moving into a new place is to set up, even in a temporary location, the stereo. Good music sets the beat for organizing your new digs and allows for mini-dance parties as you determine which cabinet the coffee mugs will call home. This is what I did when Katie and I moved into our first and current apartment together.

Katie came with a record player. I had planned on buying one for myself just about the time we got serious, so when we moved in together, hers became mine, and I was Don Hall-excited about it. I could finally dust off my vinyl collection and give the discs a spin. The first one I chose was my original pressing of Michael Jackson’s Thriller. At about the third track, the Paul McCartney duet “The Girl is Mine,” Katie asked, “Who is this?”

“Who is this!?” I responded, astounded and slightly confused. “It’s Michael Jackson. It’s Thriller — the second best-selling album of all time.”

“Oh, I don’t like Michael Jackson.”

I immediately questioned our entire relationship and my taste in women. “What!? How can you not like Michael Jackson?”

“He’s super creepy.”

 “Okay. But what about his music? You like his music, right?”

“Eh. It’s okay.”

Once my wave of panic broke, I realized why Katie’s opinion was what it was. She’s six years younger than me. She was born in 1986, a year before Bad was released. By the time she was old enough to purposefully consume music, MJ was well past the mercurial and eccentric pop god the majority of the world adored. Balancing the art and the artist wasn’t an issue for Katie because she never experienced Michael at his best, before the cracks in his façade began to show.

She admitted that his influence in pop music was undeniable and that she didn’t dislike his music, so I happily let the rest of the album play. As it did, I age-splained what Michael Jackson was like before the pedophilia stories broke and he dangled his child over a balcony and his face and skin looked like Vincent Price’s nightmares and he painfully French kissed Lisa Marie Presley on TV. I told her how I, like millions of children and adults, copied his dance moves as best we could, and how I listened to my Bad tape so much that I eventually wore it out and had to have my parents buy me a new one. I told her how we — the fans — let slide the strangeness of carrying Emanuel Lewis like a baby at the 1984 AMAs because, well, geniuses do strange things. Michael Jackson fandom was completely lost on her. And it makes perfect sense as to why. She was, ironically, too young to have been pulled in by the magnificence of Michael’s magnetism.

 ✶

In the late 1980s and early 1990s, I was a huge fan of hip-hop, R&B, and rap music. I sought that music out and consumed it ferociously and almost exclusively.

Throughout my pre-teen and early teenage years, I was so into the music that my bedroom walls were plastered in magazine clipping photos of my favorite artists: Bell Biv DeVoe, Boyz II Men, Father MC, En Vogue, TLC, Tony Terry, Tony! Toni! Toné!, Mary J. Blige, Postive K, R. Kelly, New Edition, 2Pac, etc. My father, standing with me in my room, once asked me, “Are you gay?”

“No. Why”

“You have all these pictures of men hanging up.”

 “I like their music.”

 “Do you want to be black?”

 “I’ve never thought of that.”

I would rush home from junior high school every day (when I didn’t have band or spring musical rehearsal, or Hebrew school) to watch BET’s half-hour music video show. It played a lot of my music and a lot of music that wasn’t being played on radio. It introduced me to artists that were under the radar compared to what the rest of my friends were listening to. I reveled in knowing about music they didn’t. One artist, early on in his career, was R. Kelly.

The video for “She’s Got That Vibe” wowed me. The song was New Jack Swing perfection. The video was early ’90s cool. I wanted that CD. I needed that CD. Since I was only twelve years old and there was no internet, I was at the mercy of my parents driving me to the mall and other record stores to find the CD. No place we knew of carried it. One desk clerk at the Lincoln mall Sam Goody almost laughed at me when I asked him if they had R. Kelly’s album.

“Never heard of it.”

Oh, you will, I thought.

Soon after, a mailer from Columbia House arrived in our mailbox. “12 CDs for a Penny!” it advertised. I flipped through the pamphlet to see what they were offering and there it was: R. Kelly and the Public Announcement’s Born Into the ‘90s. I was sold. I told my parents I wanted to do it.

“It’s a scam,” my parents told me. I didn’t care. I wanted that album, and eleven other albums Columbia House had available for my listening pleasure. After the twelve CDs for a penny, I’d be locked in to purchase another set number of CDs at their price within a certain time period. I don’t remember what that was exactly, but I told my parents that I’d assume all financial responsibility. They decided to let me go forward on it, and in what may well be my most successful moment of money management, I met my requirements with no problem. Babysitting, cutting grass and saving my allowance money afforded me the ability to score stacks of amazing CDs.

When Born Into the ’90s arrived, I devoured it. Every single track was incredible. I couldn’t get enough of it. I loved that R. Kelly was from Chicago. I loved that his voice sounded unique against everything else out there. I loved that his songs were all about girls because I was all about girls.

Not long after I memorized every lyric on the album, I discovered the first clue that R. Kelly was a little odd. It had been there, right in my ears the whole time. Toward the end of “She’s Got that Vibe,” R. Kelly starts listing all the girls who “got that vibe.”

“… Stephanie's got it And Sabrina's got it Rachelle has got it yeah Gladys got it Fontina's got it Little cute Aaliyah's got it Ooh Stacy's got it I tell ya Tita's got it I tell ya Rita's got it Oh Laurel's got it And Kim's got it, yeah”

“Little cute Aaliyah’s got it.” Harmless the first few hundred times I heard it, but once Aaliyah came onto the scene, I had to pause. Aaliyah was my age — five months older. She was a child. Why would he be singing about a child having that vibe? I knew it had to have been that Aaliyah because I knew R. Kelly wrote and produced her first hit, “Age Ain’t Nothing But a Number.” Weird, I thought. But that was the extent of it. Because what did I know? I was twelve.

When R. Kelly’s second album, 12 Play dropped, I bought it immediately. This time Sam Goody had it. The songs were a whole lot sexier. While still a great album, I didn’t really understand why he was so fixated on screwing. Where was the romance I thought I heard on Born Into the ’90s? By the time his third album, R. Kelly was released, I had lost interest. In part because I had discovered punk rock and also because I couldn’t relate to much of what he was singing about. I was fifteen years old and horny as hell, but I couldn’t understand why R. Kelly seemed to be so incredibly horny. It was extreme.

I moved on. But I still would go back to those first two albums and play them. When the accusations about more inappropriate sexual activity and molestation and predatory behavior came to the surface, I wasn’t surprised at all. R. Kelly was a dangerous pervert from the very beginning and he’d been telling us about it every step of the way.

 ✶ 

In January, Katie and I watched the Lifetime documentary Surviving R, Kelly. It was, of course, disturbing and disgusting but it was hardly shocking. Similar to her experience with Michael Jackson, Katie never got into R. Kelly’s music, and though I told her of my love for the guy in the early ’90s, I was not inclined to promote his impact on music or make any case for separating the art from the artist because, for one, R. Kelly’s art was chock-full of his disgusting behavior and two, because while some have called R. Kelly a genius, he’s not. R. Kelly is no Michael Jackson. 

As more stories about Jackson’s alleged pedophilia came to surface, I never once denied that it was wrong. But I never thought he was a predator. I always figured — like so many of us — that he was a product of his wonky childhood and was a broken man who didn’t know appropriate social behavior. He was the proverbial man-child — a little, lonely boy stuck in the body of a grown man. I believed that he did some inappropriate things like sleeping in the same bed with his boy fans and playing odd, pervy little kid games that kids might play when they’re just figuring out what their penises are for. But I never thought he was a rapist, a pedophile, a predator. He was just a really, really weird dude. The whole thing struck me as sad, and yes, gross.

When we watched Leaving Neverland, I did so with ever-increasing discomfort as the indisputable stories of rape, manipulation, and the twisted workings of a predator unfolded. When it was over, Katie asked me, “What do you think about Michael Jackson now?”

“He’s a fucking monster,” I said.

✶

I’ll still go back to Born Into the ’90s and 12 Play because when I do, I’m brought back to where I was at the time when they were new music. At this point, I now I’ll enjoy them even more once the sonofabitch is in jail. Proper justice makes everything sweeter. But is there still enough salt in R. Kelly’s music when I think about the damage he caused all of those girls and their families? Damn right.

Michael’s music doesn’t gross me out as much. It’s too much a part of my DNA. It’s too much a part of the world’s DNA. The influence of 1980s Michael Jackson is a through line in almost every single pop song since and will likely continue to be. My son is almost a year old and Thriller gets him dancing every single time. (I haven’t played any R. Kelly for him yet, so I’m not sure how he’ll like that stuff.) And when he’s old enough, I’m sure I’ll have to have The Talk with him. I imagine it’ll go something like this:

“Harry, Michael Jackson’s music is incredible. Appreciate that. But know that Michael Jackson was a horrifying person. He hurt people while singing about healing the world. People are complicated. His music may inspire you, but please don’t let the man behind the music inspire you. Unless we’re talking about Quincy Jones. Because as far as we know, Quincy Jones is still a stand-up guy.

I loved Michael Jackson growing up. And I can’t forgive him for what he did. It’s not really my place to forgive him because he didn’t hurt me or my family, but I still feel slighted by his foul behavior. So keep on dancing, my son. Get up off the wall, shake your body down to the ground, moonwalk, if you can, but know that even the greatest artists, our heroes, can be hideous monsters.”

Like so many of us who are or were Michael Jackson fans, I’ve been pouring over my relationship with him and his music. I’m not ashamed that I wasn’t fully committed to thinking he was a pedophile rapist. I needed the facts laid out before me.

But I’ll tell you this: even at the height of my adoration for the King of Pop, I never thought Captain EO was anything but wretchedly uncomfortable. Worse than kissing Lisa Marie.

[metawitches]

Jane The Virgin –“Chapter Four — Image JAV104A_155 — Pictured (L-R): Andrea Navedo as Xo, Gina Rodriguez as Jane and Ivonne Coll as Alba — Photo: Danny Feld/The CW — © 2014 The CW Network, LLC. All rights reserved.

This is the basic list of questions we ask ourselves while consuming media to help us determine if we’re seeing women being treated fairly or not. It’s not a yes or no checklist, or an easy, one sentence test, like the Bechdel test. But then, Alison Bechdel never meant for her test to become a widely used standardized instrument. This test requires some thinking about what you’re viewing. Misogyny is often subtle, and it’s pervasive. It’s easy to miss with one, casual viewing, but the message still gets into our heads and affects us.

That’s why these are guidelines, rather than a test. Some of these answers will be subjective, and reasonable people can disagree. We’re talking about art and the interpretation of art, after all. It also takes practice to start seeing things like camera angles and positioning, rather than letting it fly by. Hardly any of us can always spot gaslighting, especially when it’s being done by the writers and producers instead of the characters. These guidelines are just aspects of entertainment to keep in mind while viewing, to become more aware of what you’re seeing.

I (Metacrone) started working on this list in the late 80s, and it’s slowly grown. It’s still a work in progress, just like the entertainment industry. There are very few works that would pass every question with flying colors. Figure out how much you can live with watching, and the level that makes you take action. It’s okay to just watch and enjoy the show sometimes without feeling guilty, too. But, the more you can recognize the issues with entertainment and speak out, even if it’s only to one person, the more of an effect we all have on the entertainment industry.

The trick to understanding subtle misogyny, which is often institutionalized and internalized, is to look at the attitude behind the narrative, the way events and actions are framed, and the repetitiveness with which we are presented with these images. One scientist or superhero unrealistically fighting monsters in heels doesn’t matter. All of them fighting monsters unrealistically in heels while being unrealistically thin, with no muscle mass, having beautiful hair and clothing, and only a minor smudge or 2 of “sexy dirt,” matters a huge amount. It becomes the standard that everyone measures women by, even if they don’t realize they’re doing it. Especially for girls growing up surrounded by those images and looking up to those heroines. Or finding powerful female villains to be the closest thing to a well-rounded, achievable role model that is available to them.

You’ll notice we don’t include the standard used by the Bechdel test, time spent with other females talking about something other than men. We feel that standard has turned out to be a Trojan horse, as others have pointed out before us. If a woman is alone on a desert island with a man, there’s no way to pass the Bechdel test, even for the most feminist piece, whereas a piece in which a group of women do nothing but belittle each other based on patriarchal beauty standards can still pass the Bechdel test.

What’s important to us is the female characters’ appropriateness relative to the situation they find themselves in. We’re looking for women escaping the shackles of patriarchy. For women to no longer have to choose between being a madonna or a whore. To no longer be burdened with Eve’s supposed sins. We’re looking for shows where women are just women. Just regular, human people, living their lives, going about their business, as most of us do, without having male expectations placed onto them, forcing them to be weaker, or stronger, or more beautiful, or sexier, or uglier, than the situation would otherwise call for. We’re looking for female characters that haven’t been distorted in any way in order to fit male needs and expectations.

It doesn’t seem like much to ask, but it’s surprisingly hard to find. Most of us have forgotten what it might even look like. Many of us don’t even have it in our real lives, so we don’t know what to look for to begin with.

So, the next time you have some extra brain space and are watching a show, ask yourself a few of these questions. They are meant for reflection, to be applied in a thoughtful manner on a case by case basis, not to suggest that every time a woman fights in heels or wears tight, revealing clothing she’s in a misogynist show. We love a good fight in a great outfit as much as the next person. 

  Metawitches Guidelines for Spotting Misogyny vs Female Equality in Entertainment and Media

Misogynist works reduce women to five different tropes, or a combination of these tropes, if the characters are “complex”:

Madonna: The perfect, pure, unspoiled, virginal, all-giving, always nurturing mother/good girl who “deserves”, and gets, the men’s respect.  Attractive in a more controlled, more subdued way than the Whore/Bad Girl, usually involving pastels, neutral colors, and covered skin. Sandy from Grease, Jane Bennett from Pride and Prejudice and Melanie Wilkes from Gone With the Wind are examples.

Whore: The woman who is sexual, powerful, selfish, self-aware, who does not put the needs of others first at all times, and hangs around with the men, but isn’t respected. Attractive in a flashy, obvious way, involving brighter colors, and tighter, more revealing clothing than the Madonna/Good Girl. Often a villain, but also can be simply the Bad Girl or even the Bad Girl with the Heart of Gold. Scarlet O’Hara from Gone with the Wind, Kitty Bennett from Pride and Prejudice, Rizzo from Grease, and Johanna from The Hunger Games are examples.

Child: The woman who is weak and unable to think for herself, whether it’s the writers who think that, the male characters, or the woman herself. She is helpless, ditzy, silly, insane, manic, dreamy, victimized, angry, depressed, etc. There are an infinite number of reasons why the male characters might need to step in and take over the decision-making, or provide strong guidance. Guidance may be provided subtly. This one can be difficult to spot. The child usually doesn’t grow up/grow as a character, get more than token punishment for mistakes, or have any truly evil intent. Examples include Mrs Bennett from Pride and Prejudice, Frenchie from Grease, Annie from The Hunger Games and Barbra from Night of the Living Dead. This is a prominent racist stereotype as well, so it’s often used on women of color. Prissy from Gone with the Wind is a famous example.

Eve: Even though she might be the lead character, the woman is treated as if she is an extension of the male characters, instead of a separate being, especially physically. Men will guide her decision-making. She will learn everything important from them. Their love and approval will mean everything to her. Often, the love interest will touch her constantly, going so far as to move her body to where he wants it without telling her where they are going first or giving her any choice in the matter. Sex is all about him and is often a reward for his accomplishments. If the woman disobeys the man’s wishes, the universe will often teach her a lesson. Unlike the child, Eve can grow as a character, but she can only grow in male-approved directions. Eve can be a good girl and close companion to the man from the start, or she can start off as a villain and be redeemed, after she’s accepted her punishment and male guidance. Katniss Everdeen from The Hunger Games, Wonder Woman (from the 2017 movie), Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Jane Austin’s Emma, and Elizabeth Bennett from Pride and Prejudice are Eves, as are most of the recent crop of bad ass female warriors and strong female heroines.

Invisible Woman: The women that men don’t want, unless they are used as villains or plot devices. The throwaway characters. The old (post-menopausal, sometimes younger), very young, disfigured, disabled, sick, unattractive, fat. If the piece is racist, women of color will often fall into this category. Wonder Woman 2017 erased all of the women in this category except the chosen child, the plot device secretary, and the disfigured villainess. The movie side of the Marvel Cinematic Universe has also virtually erased this category, except the aging Peggy Carter and a few appearances by superhero mothers and mentors. The Ancient One in Dr. Strange was an Invisible Woman, meant to be a supremely powerful being, but instead kept in hiding, reduced to asking neophyte Dr Strange for help, and sacrificing herself, in the end.* All of the Asian women who could have played the role instead of Tilda Swinton were rendered invisible by the filmmakers.

    Now that you have an idea of what you’re looking for, let’s look at the questions.

1- Does the women’s clothing make sense for their situations, or is it meant to sexualize or infantilize characters who otherwise wouldn’t have those traits? Are older women, disabled women, fat women, and other women outside the typical Western beauty standard dressed in plain, loose clothing, while the “attractive” women are dressed in tight, revealing clothing? Are the women dressed appropriately for what they’re doing and who/when/what they are? Are they dressed sexually for no apparent reason? Are they hobbled by wearing high heels or being barefoot? Is a character wearing a tiny revealing outfit that makes her physically vulnerable to injury, or virginal white, or something else that makes her seem deliberately childlike?

2-Are women who aren’t considered traditionally attractive confined to the role of best friend, sidekick, neighbor, boss, villain: anything but leading lady? Are women who are physically disabled or disfigured actively portrayed as villains?Are the women’s faces and facial expressions allowed to be normal reactions to situations and is the level of make up they wear appropriate to the character? Are they allowed to have bad hair days, not wear makeup, have less than attractive facial expressions? Are their faces oversexualized? Are they forced to smile at all times? To wear heavy make up? Are older women so loaded up with Botox that they can’t move their facial muscles any more? Do the female characters become ridiculously frightened or scream at the first sign of trouble, no matter how brave and practical they are otherwise? 

3- If the show acknowledges bodily functions and genitals, does it acknowledge them in women? How? Is it acknowledged in a matter-of-fact way, or are women’s bodily functions and genitals seen as especially disgusting, especially those that are unique to women, such as periods and breastfeeding? Or are women’s bodily functions fetishized, with pregnancy, childbirth and breastfeeding turned into processes created exclusively to benefit men? Or are beautiful women too perfect to do anything as disgusting as fart or sh*t, but “ugly” women do it for laughs or to show us how scary or hideous they are?

4- Are the women unnecessarily physically manhandled by other people? Are the women fully in control of their own bodies? Do people touch them, either sexually or non-sexually, without their consent? Are their bodies picked up and moved around at will by others, without their consent? Is their personal space invaded without a second thought? Are they forced to use their bodies in ways they don’t want to, up to and including rape? Are they subject to social pressure to behave a certain way, often to the point of coercion? Are they seen as monsters who must be executed? Are they the subject of a witch hunt, or false imprisonment?

5- Is the woman in full control of her mind and power (personal power or supernatural power)? Or does she have to have a man guiding her all the time? Does a male step in and finish her fights for her (and possibly take the glory)? Is there a male guide who is the smart one, and who chuckles at her naivety? If she’s the main character, does the male get the big victory? Does she ever outgrow mentorship? (E.g.: Buffy never outgrew needing Giles to be her guide.) Does her husband, lover, or son tend to make the main decisions, or subtly guide her toward the correct decision? (We’re not talking about a woman freely asking for advice, or coming to consensus with another person.) Do men belittle the women’s intelligence and morals on a regular basis, while the women accept this treatment as normal? Do all of the female characters have an external locus of control (feel that they are powerless to affect their own world/lives, and thus end up being constant victims), or act like it when it’s time to take action, regardless of their position in the world? Do women go insane or develop other illnesses from experiences that don’t have the same effect on men? Are female characters expected to sacrifice themselves for the greater good, whether that means the couple, the family, or the country, while male characters are not? If the woman is a criminal, in the military, or has another dangerous lifestyle, is she treated equally to the men, or is she seen as a pawn in the men’s games? Did she understand the choices she was making, or was she portrayed as too stupid or naive to realize the seriousness of the life she chose?

6- Do men use subtle and not so subtle gaslighting and manipulation of women to control and coerce them, but this is accepted as normal behavior by everyone? Who is the point of view character? Are we ever given the honest point of view of the female characters? (This might be the most important question, and the hardest to discern. Characters speak the writers’ words, after all, not their own. Editors and directors manipulate which words we hear and how they are presented. But then sometimes it seems like it should be obvious. We’ve been pressured into accepting reality show conditions, for example, as okay, because the women appear to choose to trade their autonomy and dignity for fame and fortune. But is there any real choice in a coercive culture like ours, where we are bombarded from birth with certain messages?) Do women feel the need to apologize for expressing their emotions and opinions freely, especially negative ones, most especially anything involving anger or depression (for being the dreaded Debbie Downer), while men are accepted and even praised for expressing themselves? Are women automatically seen as liars and manipulators, using men for their own purposes? Does the gaslighting extend to the audience, asking us to accept that the male characters are truthful and have only good intentions? Do the women smile and nod their way through the scenes, accepting whatever is dished out to them (often with a laugh track in the background or a reality show commentary)? Do the women compete to be degraded, sometimes to the point of abuse? Do the male characters keep a judgey running commentary on the women’s behavior and looks going, as if the women can’t hear them?

7- If the show involves sex, do women initiate and enjoy sex as often and as much as men? Is it stated or implied that certain kinds of women want or enjoy sex too much? Are value judgements made on the types of sex a woman wants and enjoys, whether that’s hetero sex, kinky sex or queer sex of whatever sort? Does it show women receiving oral or being pleasured just for them at least as often as men are? If it does, does it only show women receiving pleasure from other women, or do they receive it from men? Is the man genuinely concerned with pleasing the woman just for her, or is it part of some actual or perceived competition for him? Does it show women being coerced, either subtly or overtly, into sex acts they aren’t interested in or comfortable with, while the narrative implies that they should go along with whatever their partner or culture wants? Is it stated verbally that it’s okay to say no or to stop in the middle of sex, but that’s negated by everything else in the piece? Is it stated or implied that only certain kinds of women (such as a certain age, size, race, ability, economic or beauty standard) are interested in sex, enjoy sex or are worth having sex with?  Is the man always dominant and the initiator in sexual encounters? Is the sex about power or competition rather than pleasure? Who has the power in the situation? Is everything that happens during the sexual encounters consensual and previously discussed, if the couple is trying out sexual practices that are new to them? Is the women freely choosing to have sex, or is the sex something that has been earned by the male character for fulfilling certain conditions, whether it’s taking her to dinner and a movie or helping her escape from prison? Are the characters being honest and open about themselves before having sex, or is dubious consent involved due to the dishonesty and manipulation of one or both of the partners?

8- Are the women surrounded by symbols and signs of female powerlessness and weakness? Are the women forced into a Madonna/Whore dichotomy, where good, nurturing women can’t be sexy and own their power, and bad, sexy, powerful women can’t be selfless and compassionate? Where women are either powerful or good? Where a “complex” female character is a woman who struggles to choose between being powerful or good? Does her power ultimately make her weak or evil? Is she forced to apologize for using her power? Is she self-loathing because of her power? Is she a funny-sexy woman who’s too weak for her hypersexuality to be threatening? Or a powerful but evil woman whose sexiness is portrayed as threatening? Is she turned into Eve, falling from grace and goodness with the acquisition of knowledge and adulthood? Does using her power drain her and make her physically and mentally weak? Is she self-loathing because of the necessary choices she’s had to make to survive a crisis situation, such as a war or natural disaster, or an ongoing struggle, such as poverty? What kinds of jobs do the female characters do? What kinds of roles do they play in their society? What does the culture’s religion look like? The military? Are women respected for the roles they traditionally and currently play in the culture that’s being portrayed?

9- Are they showing the truth of a woman’s experience, or are they showing exploitation? Is the woman a victim because that’s the only way the writer knows how to write women? Is a historical figure’s story being told accurately, or is it being sensationalized, with the woman being made weaker, or sexualized, or taking a backseat in her own story? Is a woman making choices that act out male fantasies rather than choices real women make, such as when characters fall in love with their rapists?

10- How are women photographed and physically positioned? How does the cinematography treat them? Is the lighting harsh, to make them look old or ugly? Soft, to make them look younger? Are women in positions that make them look smaller and more childlike? Are they positioned behind and/or below men consistently to show that the men are the more powerful and important characters? Does their position make them look dehumanized, vulnerable, self-protective, or lacking in individuality? Do they appear faceless or monstrous? Are they disappearing into shadows, or do they appear as if they’re behind shadowy bars made by blinds, making them look sinister? Is the camera tilted and/or is part of the subject of the frame obscured, making everything feel off, unstable, maybe even insane? Do all of the women look alike, in their physical characteristics and/or dress and behavior, turning them into anonymous clones lacking in individuality?

11- What kind of language is used to describe women and women’s issues? Are elderly women referred to as “grandmothers,” while elderly men are called “men”? Are women called “ladies” or “girls” while men are called “men”? Are women described by their physical characteristics, while men are described by their character traits or history? Are appropriate terms and phrases used for women’s body parts, issues and crimes against women, or are derogatory terms used, and terms that question the validity of crimes and issues, like the phrase “real” rape? Even the tone of voice that newscasters use has an effect on the way we view the people and issues they are reporting on. Do narrators, hosts, and commentators promote stereotypes of women, and manipulate the audience into feeling a certain way about certain women, such as that empowered women are “evil witches” or unmarried women who use birth control are “slutty”? Do the jokes have an anti-realistic, anti-equal woman slant (fat jokes, lying woman jokes, ageist jokes)?

12- How are female characters treated relative to male characters, in areas such as amount of screen time, focus given in the plot, and relative number of lines of dialogue? This goes for females vs males in all aspects of the production. Lead characters and series regulars are the most visible. How does the number of named female characters relate to the number of males? How prominent are the women’s roles? Are there women of color and LGBT women in the cast? How prominent are the roles the women of color and LGBT women are playing? Is there a female lead, but she’s the only named female character? Does the production have women on the creative team? If it’s a TV series, does it have female writers and directors for its episodes on a regular basis? Are there women in any of the male-oriented tech positions? Is the story about female characters who look and act like they are important to the piece (and might even be the title character) and get major screen time, but in reality the important work of the story is done by the male characters (who might technically be supporting characters)? (This, and the female lead as the sole woman are the most popular ways to dupe women into thinking they are seeing equality.)

Lucky 13- If you want to dig really deep, what is the working climate for women who work for this production, this director, this studio, this theatre, this TV network? Are they known for hiring women? For giving women their start as writers or directors? Or are they known for shutting women out of anything but acting, for enforcing unrealistic physical standards on actresses, and/or for sexually harassing the women who work for them? Worse, have they been accused of rape, pedophilia, or other crimes against women, but their wealth and influence have allowed them to escape justice? Is this a business that you are comfortable continuing to give your viewership to, knowing that views, ratings, clicks, advertising dollars and ticket sales encourage the continuation of the misogyny you’re seeing on the stage or screen? 

According to the annual Celluloid Ceiling Study, fewer than 1% of each year’s top 250 films employs more than 10 women behind the camera, whereas 70% employ 10 or more men. This has remained unchanged for the last 20 years. It will remain unchanged until we demand change with our feet.  

What we see in our entertainment influences us, but we have the power to influence it back by focussing our attention and our money onto the projects and creators that we feel are most worthy of our support. All it takes is some critical thinking and the power of an informed choice.

  *The Ancient One also has elements of the Madonna and Eve, but given her self-sacrifice and dependence on the men around her, I feel that the combination of making her soft spoken, dependent, sacrificing, hidden, and generally lacking in authority and presence serves to make her fade into the background, compared to other characters. Usually an Invisible Woman would be a smaller role, so The Ancient One is worth noting. She’s turned into a ghost when she should be a powerhouse. For comparison, look at the Netflix side of the MCU, and Madame Gao, who commands every room she walks into, before even saying a word, even though the actress, Wai Ching Ho, is physically a tiny person.

    Metawitches Guidelines for Spotting Misogyny vs Female Equality in Entertainment and Media This is the basic list of questions we ask ourselves while consuming media to help us determine if we're seeing women being treated fairly or not. 

[kylealexanderlexington]

Missiles

I’m drinking that new Molten Chocolate Valentine’s coffee from Starbucks. It’s February. The month of love. I’ve hated it all my life. It’s the worst month. It’s the month of my sister Valentina’s birthday. It’s also the month where shit always goes down. It’s the month where there’s a reckoning in our little group of crazy idiots who can’t stand still. 

Why am I drinking this coffee? Probably because it’s supposed to represent romance. It’s rich, lush, decadent, sweet... it tastes like energy and roasted sugar and frothy cream in my mouth. And lately that’s all I want. I’m addicted to it. You can’t pull me away from this right now. 

It’s February, and I fucking hate this month and I’m drinking the Valentine’s Special because it reminds me of her. I don’t care what this month represented in the past, I’m building it from scratch now. Boom.

Can’t avoid some of the debris I might encounter though. I’m still human.

I know what I’m made of. I know the bars in my bones. 

They’re right. I’m jealous. 

Everything else though? That I’m blind? That I’m stupid? That I’m a rebound?

I’m tired of getting told I am what people think I am. I also tend to not listen and it has served me well. I watch, I let actions speak for people. I know the difference between what comes out of someone’s mouth and what’s actually happening in their mind. 

I’m a gambler. Reading people is my thing.

Do they honestly think I don’t know how to read the face of the woman I’ve been looking at since 2001? Please. I made my master’s  in the art of bluffing. 

I made my entire empire based on my ability to know what’s going on underneath the surface. And I wouldn’t even be here, right now, savoring this cream, if I hadn’t paid attention to my instincts. 

Right now, I’m living with a woman who was afraid of sharks, but in love with snakes. She’s always played with snakes, and she’s wanted a particular snake for 10 years. Hell, in another iteration, she even gave birth to a snake. 

But let me not go so meta, though shoutout to Zack. 

She’s afraid of what’s under the water, that monster lurking in the deep that she can’t see swimming under her feet, but she’s never been afraid of the ones slithering around her. Those she can handle, those she can see. She thinks herself a Indian charmer, with the right flute and melody, she could convince that cobra to sway for her, to fall for her. 

But don’t step into the water.

Keep it on dry land. 

Heh. No pun intended.

I know a constant in her life, there is no such thing as me being out of it.

I also knew one constant in my life. She would never lie to me.

But that one day... she did.

That’s when our entire relationship changed. That’s when I started keeping my distance. That trip to London.

That day she came to me and acted like she was recovered and happy, and in touch with her fabulous self. She called me “darling”. She suggested we wreck havoc as we always did. But I didn’t have my mask on that day, I had a question burning in the tip of my tongue. 

Did she have a crush on Giovanni?

She denied it of course. Vehemently. She said it was actually more about Leo. That she could never look at Giovanni that way. 

L-i-a-r.

And she could tell I wasn’t buying it. And she tried to wrangle me like a bull. She wanted me to be her fucking stand-in. And she needed me to keep that status quo, she needed me to not confirm her own fear, that she was actually interested in someone she could never have, and that knowledge at the time, did not fit the Caroline Richardson narrative. She was the best, she was the most beautiful, she was the smartest and she was a prize and her confidence was built on the knowledge of her self-worth so how could there possibly be a man out there who couldn't see the value of the woman standing right in front of him asking him to, well, heh, try something new. 

Hell, any time she wanted to, she could have Kyle McVegas. Tammy? Who was Tammy? Tell Tammy to take a hike because Caroline’s in town and Kyle will always, always, prefer Caroline if she invites him into her bed than any of the other boring pieces of conquest he hunts.

She’s so subtle.

But she was avoiding her own pain. That she had tested Giovanni to see if he could want her. To step out of his comfort zone and give it a go to someone who was obviously, sexier, more fabulous, who could give him more than he ever thought.

Again. Subtle.

 I know how she works. I know the bars in her bones. I know the lies she tells others and herself. And I know she has tunnel vision... now. 

Because Caroline wasn’t confused. She was just waiting it out and picking stand-ins for Giovanni, until he finally chose to get out of the hole. Like me.

Same bark. 

She wants love, and family, and commitment, and a knight in shining armor, and a house on the prairie, and world domination... and wealth beyond compare, and the ability to crush the skulls of her enemies with martial arts, and... wait... see? That’s where you really start seeing the complex fabric that is Caroline Richardson. 

A quilt with patches and designs and colors that don’t necessarily match, but still manage to look amazing. A piece de resistance I’ve pictured in my room since I saw it. It goes with my decor. 

I sometimes like to listen to her talk to herself though, because it reminds me of how far down the rabbit hole she can go in the pursuit of her own version of reality.

Caroline says she’s the most loyal person in the world. She’s been loyal to only one bloody fucking thing. The idea that any man who isn’t Giovanni is just taking the place of Giovanni until he finally shows up. 

Until now.

But loyal to Leonardo? She cheated on him.

Loyal to Nathaniel? In her mind. Because when I asked her about it, what she would’ve done if Giovanni had shown up at her doorstep, wanting her, vulnerable, ready to try something that he had been too afraid to experience, that love she knew she had for him, to offer. 

Her pupils practically overtook her iris. She had the faintest tint of pink on her cheeks. She said, “well, I don’t know what I would do. I think that’s probably the only person that would seriously threaten my marriage.”

Ha.

No kidding Poison Ivy.

Right now, she’s convinced herself she’s the most tunnel-vision loyal person ever. Down the rabbit hole she goes. And yes, everyone’s right. I choose to use that lie. Yeah. Because if that’s where her head space is right now, then she’ll never pull herself away from me. 

And that’s what I want.

I want to be the thread on that quilt. So if she pulls me from her, she’ll unravel.

I’m clear.

Giovanni almost unraveled her, but I grabbed that fine thread and I stopped it. 

She doesn’t get to take away what I value, just because she lost the ability to value it herself. 

Am I going too fast with her right now? Yes. I’m taking advantage of the fact that she’s letting me. Because when things are uncomfortable, Caroline fast-tracks. She needs speed, that way she can avoid the pain of time. That’s her whole fucking thing right there.

Hell yeah. Awesome. We’re remodeling. I’m invading her. Zack’s apartment is mine now, along with the penthouse above, and the level below.

I’m giving it to her, hard and fast. Just as she wants it. Because she was thirsty, and she’s not on dry land anymore and I own these waters.

And I’m going to keep building on this, until I am so cemented in her space, until I obliterate every doubt she has in her to think, about what she’s really feeling, about her emptiness, about her pain, her loss, and the annihilation of her self-esteem that went down when she buried herself in the Sahara. 

Or at least, that’s what I want. But I won't lie to myself. That’s not how it’s going to happen. It doesn’t all just go away, the way she tries to force it to go away. You don’t just extract the sand from your lungs in surgery, you keep coughing it up for years. And in the case of snakes? It’s poison.

And because she’s that committed to getting what she wants, because she’s that ambitious and determined, for ten years she was pumping herself with poison, even when she knew she shouldn’t, from that snake, under the impression that she could build enough immunity to withstand anything he might throw at her. When he finally did show up on her doorstep, she was primed and ready to go.

She was prepared. She could handle anything. Anything.

I did not need to re-read her blog, to remember that.

I know that.

I watched that.

I will never get over that. To see Caroline finally risk everything and live on scraps and crawl through sand and survive on drops of cactus water. Look at how far she was willing to go... not for any man. Him.

Him.

She had a wall with the world, but there was one wall she had completely open and ready for him. And she couldn’t wait for him to step in, so she could finally prove everything she was and had to offer, with him. Nobody had earned her, but him.

Well. Earned is a strong word.

He never did a motherfucking thing, right? What. He was her friend? He was there when she needed him. 

And what the fuck was I?

L-i-a-r.

It’s just that when you felt vulnerable, he was the one you reached out to. It wasn’t me you called when you were lonely and crying. I’m the one you called for dial-a-fuck, fun, or pretending everything was ok. 

It was him. 

I know that.

I’m ok with that.

Fuck.

I took a break from writing now, because I needed a glass of wine. Yes. Red. Still my color. Even when red puts me as the protagonist of the narrative I hate with every fiber in my being, the one her little cousin believed right up until she deigned to talk to me that day in Halloween.

That I’m Kyle McVegas, fuckboy and destroyer of women, and yes, Caroline’s loyal dog. 

At least she knew that much, that the one woman I could never possibly mistreat or destroy or ignore was Caroline. Caroline has always been untouchable. Yes I would follow her orders. Yes I let her come into my office and sit on my chair, like she’s the boss, like she owns Lexington Enterprises. The empire I build from nothing.

And yes, Marie was the only one who ever wondered why.

Smart girl. Psycho but smart.

But back to the wall which, was effectively shutting back down. As it reached the floor I put my foot on the ground before it sealed off completely, and I let her know I was available. Me. Her best friend, who for some reason was never there for her when it mattered. The one person she could trust because there was no world without me in it, to the point that when we promised to stay apart she invaded my own personal story with an alternate version of herself.

Does that mean something?

Oh it does. 

So I gave her the offer, and she finally gave it a shot and opened the door and I came in like a steam train. And I haven’t stopped and I won't stop. 

And I know everyone judges me for it. I do.

But do you know the definition of not giving two flying rats of a fuck?

So what if I’m only in because I sneaked in, so what if she never actually looked at me, so what if I was plan B, or C, or plan never please?

I want to get her to a point where she can’t untie her identity from mine. As it is, she couldn’t even do it as friends. Imagine as lovers.

I know she has all that poison in her, I just have to suck it out.

And suck it out I will. With pleasure.

We are not pure innocent beings with the future looking bright and beautiful ahead of us. I know that’s what she tells herself to survive. I know she needs sunlight to live. 

But I don’t. So I’ll happily watch her go through her process, and the fog she wants to avoid, and disentangle herself from her heartbreak, and remove splinters from every area of her body that got attacked by the porcupine she let into her pandorica. 

I’m glad it happened.

This is why we’re here now.

I am satisfied. It’s cruel. It’s harsh. But it’s right. 

Why didn’t I try before? Why did I wait until she was with Giovanni?

...

Because call me a doberman all you want, but at least I’m not a pussy.

I did not run away and hide from what I am or what I wanted.

I stayed. I watched.

I just wouldn’t let her put me in that position. 

I would not be the Nathaniel she could replace, or the Leo she could toss, where I was with her, giving her everything, and all Giovanni had to do was waltz the fuck in and she’d reconsider, because he was the sun and the stars and the sky she wanted to fly in for the past decade.

I know fucking better.

Now I’m in. And I’m not a stand-in. There is no way she could ever confuse me for Giovanni. 

He broke her heart.

He’s history.

Sky imploded and she faced the music and her pride is injured and her soul is shattered and her heart is frail and when her worst fears were being realized she still felt the need to call her alternative universe husband so he could remind her what it was like to be loved. That snake who cheated on her. Not me. Never me.

This is my time only because she was brought to her knees.

I don’t need anyone to bloody remind me.

I take another drink.

So now that she finally gave herself a chance to entertain the mere possibility of me, I’m striking.

Yes. Fast.

Yes. Hard.

I’ve been hitting her like a bomb raid until she has nowhere to hide. 

Until I drive her so deep into her camp she uncovers the vault where she hid her own weapons and we go fucking nuclear on each other. Preferably on a bed, for decades.

Because I know what I’m made of and I know what she needs. She’s always wanted him. But she’s always needed me.

Now excuse me while I swallow my jealousy in this bottle and get drunk with the envy and give it a few hours to recover from the hangover. 

I’ll still wake up, fix my hair, and drink my fucking Valentine’s Special coffee.