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hehebread · 3 years ago

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[BKDK] Izuku keeps mentioning a Kacchan to reporters and they think that's his gf

this was a request on twt that i had way too much fun writing. warning for suggestive language!

“And is there…. a special person….or a group of people you would like to thank on air today? Anyone who inspired you? Anyone you would attribute your success to? An image of victory per say?”

Izuku’s eyes glimmer as the bright lights of the studio reflect on his irises. “Oh!” He jumps in his seat, his perfectly- coiffed curls bouncing as he nods frantically to the show’s host. “Yes! Yes!” Leaning forward with his hands on his leg, the camera zooms in on his face where the blush is painting his cheeks. “I wouldn’t be the hero I am today if it wasn’t for Kacchan!”

And it’s as if an earthquake alert dropped on the talk show. The host grows this devious grin on his face as he turns to the camera team and says, “Well, well, well, behind every great man is a woman after all.”

Izuku isn’t quite sure why the host is bringing his mother into this since the interview is reaching its end and he has already discussed her influence in detail very early on, but he doesn’t get a chance to ponder.

The host, Yamaguchi-san, leans into Izuku’s space with renowned interest and an interesting glint in his eyes. Izuku feels himself sweating in his oversized maroon-striped suit.

“So, Midoriya-san, Hero Deku, Rising Symbol of Equity and Hope, can you tell us more about … Kacchan?” His voice goes higher at the last syllable, almost sing songs, and Izuku is not sure if he should be worried or not, but he won’t pass an opportunity to gush about Kacchan!

“Ah, Kacchan is very … confident, hardworking, strong, and smart. Kacchan is a hero who knows how to lead a team and perform under pressure, an inspiration to both myself and our entire graduating class, and a”—Izuku can feel the heat rise in his face as he tries to hide in his colour— “a shining star who was closer to me than All Might!”

The host makes a loud ‘AWWW’ noise at the same time as the small audience in the studio. “My, my! Sounds like Kacchan is very important to Hero Deku! Don’t be shy! Tell us more! Is there a physical description to go with your precious person?”

“Ahm!” Izuku fiddles with his fingers as he avoids the gazes on him. There a long beat of silence before he manages to say, “Muscles….Blonde…..Sharp eyes….” With a vague gesture to his middle section, he mumbles, barely audible, “Big, ugh…..” Heart.

“OOOOOOOOOH!” The host goes wild and so does the audience. “So are we talking Hiromi Oshima type big or maybe Rio Natsume, or aaaah Aki Hoshino even ….?”

Izuku feels his ears ring in humiliation as he tries to process what they’re talking about. Something Kacchan has in common with all these beautiful women is his big successful career so Izuku nods. “Yes!” Then, a thought occurs and he rises in his chair. “Even bigger!”

After all, Kacchan’s net worth is higher than these ladies.

“BIGGER?”

“The biggest!”

“Oh my god!” The host is losing his mind now! “And is it … natural? Or did Kacchan get a little help from professionals?”

“No, no, no! Kacchan was a natural ever since we were in school together!” Izuku’s eyes shine with a fire to defend his childhood best friend, no longer trying to hide in his big suit. “No one helped Kacchan get this big!”

“That’s … amazing!” The host shakes his head in both awe and disbelief. “Now we want to see Kacchan in action! When the hero works around the city, defeating villains, does the size get in the way?”

Does Kacchan’s fame get in the way of his work? “Sometimes,” Izuku muses, “But Kacchan never lets the restless and perky nuisances stop him, y’know. With a little shake from his hands, and a few colourful words of wisdoms, nothing gets in the way!” Izuku laughs as he remembers Kacchan’s way of dismissing fans and reporters alike.

“Wow!”

“Of course, there are times where Kacchan’s big firm moulds become springy and hard to control, but I have yet to see an instance where that has been a major issue. ”

Kacchan is still having some adjustment problems with his new hero costume, particularly his grenade mould, but that’s as far as distractions go.

“Does Kacchan not use support?”

“Uhm, only when it’s a dire situation! Sometimes I’m even allowed to provide assistance!”

“You must be very lucky…”

“I am! It feels … exciting and … very special! Kacchan doesn’t trust just anyone, y’know! I can never quite get used to the trust we built together. We are one unit working together.”

“Do you use your hands…. Or something else?”

“Oh, hands! Yes! But anything works really! Whatever Kacchan is comfortable with and needs at the time. Black Whip, combo moves, an iron grip...”

The host furrow his brows and seems to be considering Izuku’s answer before he opens his mouth again. “Uhm, never mind.” He then turns to the camera, smile back on. “Our time is almost running out! Thank you, hero Deku for your time! We look forward to seeing you again in the big screen!”

The next day, Izuku wakes up to the headline: Hero Deku And His Mysterious Busty New Girlfriend: The Beautiful and Spunky Kacchan!

He’s doomed

He sees Kacchan early the next day.

Having spent the morning talking to tabloids and the host show agents about the misunderstanding and whether or not it was possible to take down the episode at least, Izuku slumps his head on his desk in defeat.

Oh, this is very bad.

He starts thumping his forehead on the wood in sync with the bleeps noises in the phone, already planning his funeral in his head.

Okay, so it seems the suspense around this girlfriend is raking up his popularity, but god, at what cost.

“Nerd, we need to talk.”

Izuku’s soul near flies to the roof at the sound of the door to his office slamming close. Fuckfuckfuck.

Kacchan stands before him with his hand on his hip, teeth snarled and looking ready to tear his flesh open. Oh, this is going to be fun!

After flashing a haughty glare at the glass door to scare away the nosy friends hanging about, Kacchan continues, “About the interview.”

Of course! Yes! His final hour is approaching. “Haahahaha, what about it?” Izuku feels his undershirt cling to his torso, sweat collecting on his face. He directs a shaky hand to a nearby chair. “Feel free to take a seat, Kacchan! You want me to get you anything? Water, tissues, uhm, a knife, a body sized bag, or uhhh, a shovel? I think I have some spare sheets of paper if you’d like to give me a chance to—“

“So…” Kacchan starts.

“PLEASE TELL MY MUM I LOVE HER!”

“…this Kacchan, huh?” Having completely ignored every single word Izuku just said, Kacchan crosses his arms and scowls. “Is she strong? How come I never heard about her before? Since when did you start dating this gravure idol and pro hero, huh?”

“Wha—?”

“So, you just go around giving everyone pretty nicknames now?” Kacchan snorts and his expression darkens before he slams his hands on Izuku’s desk. He looks at Izuku from under his chin, and Izuku swear he can see flames behind his eyes. He growls, “What’s her actual name?”

An alarm bell rings in Izuku’s ears and he stutters, “Ka— Ka— Kat— Katsuko! Bakugan Katsuko…….”

Kacchan’s expression doesn’t change and Izuku feels his heart leap to his throat. God, Kacchan is gonna call his bluff at any minute now. He’s going to reject him then he’s going to break his heart and his bones.

“What’s she like?”

Kacchan shifts forward slightly and Izuku is just know noticing the ample cleavage in clear view. Right there. In front of Izuku’s face. “Uhm. Ah, she’s very, ugh, im- pec— impeccable!! And strong! Muscl— mature!! Breasty too – I mean, pretty! PRETTY!” Izuku bites his tongue then swallows thickly. “Beautiful, actually!” Lifting his gaze to meet Kacchan, he whispers, “Gorgeous. Just the most amazing person in my life.”

Kacchan is staring intently with his sharp red eyes, and Izuku feels his chest swell with confidence he never had before. “Kacchan is my inspiration, and I just … love … Kacchan so much. I wish I had the courage to tell him— um, her that.”

“Are you two serious?” Kacchan asks, impassive but there is silent rage hiding behind his words.

Something flashes quickly through Kacchan’s eyes before he narrows them. It takes Izuku a second to recognise that it’s /hurt/ and then he realise what he has just done.

“No, no, no!” Izuku backtracks immediately. “I don’t even know her that well! In fact, she kinda smells and definitely has sweating problem.” Izuku needs to do damage control and come clean NOW. “You know what? I will call her and break up with her right now. Ha ha ha.”

What the hell is he saying? Who is he going to call?

Kacchan stands up while Izuku fumbles with his phone. “Don’t be a dick,” he says, before he heads to the door.

Izuku jumps from his chair and is ready to chase after him when Kacchan stops him. “How big?”

“Huh?”

“You said Bakugan was big.”

Ah, yes, he did. Tragically.

“Um, y’know just…” Izuku motions with his hands like he’s moulding two doughballs, palms up and fingers wiggling because he’s lost control of his life once he accepted his funeral date, but that’s not even happening anymore so what is he doing really.

He then makes am hourglass shape in the air and belatedly realises that he’s just outlining Kacchan’s shape in front of him. Izuku retreats his hands and puts them behind his back in shame.

Kacchan is looking at him funny. Like he’s trying to figure something out.

“Does she shoot aerial bomb or something? Is that a combat-style quirk?”

Izuku blinks.

Kacchan just sneers and turns around.

“Whatever. I’m doing a photoshoot this afternoon. The Sekushī clothing line is dropping a new summer set and they asked me to model.”

“Se- Sekushi?? You mean, like—” Izuku feels his face go impossibly red. “You’re saying that, you’re going to wear, like…..” his voice goes down to a whisper when he says “…..a b-b-b-b-b-bikini?”

“Swimwear,” Kacchan turns to say over his shoulder, “Among other things.”

The sexy smirk he sends Izuku’s way is doing very, very weird things to Izuku’s body and imagination, things too inappropriate to describe in a work setting.

Kacchan leaves but not without offering the most dangerous challenge to Izuku’s mental wellbeing. “Feel free to drop in.”

Oh, he absolutely will.

“Bring Bakugon.”

Oh, he absolutely will not.

Actually….

Maybe, he will.

Kacchan is going to ruin Izuku

#dekubaku #dkbk #bakudeku #bkdk #bnha #mha #boku no hero fic #boku no hero academia #my hero fanfic #my hero academia #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #prompt fill #icewrites

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nestable · 4 years ago

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Feminism in ACOTAR

(This is a bit long so bare with me)

As a politics student and general member of the public who's curious about feminist themes, I've read a lot of feminist writings which have informed my opinion in saying that none of the acotar books can be described as feminist.

I've noticed that the big motivator behind describing the books as feminist is feyres appointment of High lady. Though that may be pivotal in prythian history, we cant ignore the fact that it is still a fairly patriachal society. Having a few women in places of power like mor, amren, feyre etc. Is not enough because women don't grow up on an island and are also influenced by patriachal views or mindsets. In short, just because someone is a woman and is in a position of power, doesnt mean that they will cater to the needs of women or are feminist. Women, especially white women(this is important because sjms writes white feminism) have often gotten into positions of power and actually ignored women and done the same that their male predecessors have done and often threw other women under the bus in order to retain their tokenism status. And the main flaw of white feminism which is the reason why it coined the term 'white feminism' is that it doesnt encompass all the intersectionalities that women reside in and only focus on a western model of what it means to be a woman and anything outside of that is backward and 'barbaric. We see this in the judgement and disregarding of POC's experiences and outlooks on life because they are different to theirs. There are more than enough examples of the white women in the series judging the illyrians which are seen by the fandom as POC's and how they maliciously drag their customs through the mud. Instead of getting these views from illyrian women themselves, we get them from white women who arent connected to that culture whatsoever and who have nothing to say except judgement and critique instead of actually helping.

We see this with the white characters views of illyrian cultures and their conclusion of the condition of women without even having a single conversation with illyrian women. Illyrian women in this set up have no agency and no voice and that leaves the women of the IC to speak for them which is counterproductive. This is wrong in that many western cultures have misinterpreted different cultures and ignored the women in those societies as being disenfranchised and have used this as an excuse to invade and colonize under the guise of liberating women when in actual fact they dont care about the women at all, and are only concerned in reaping the benefits of that culture and keeping them under their control. An example of this is rhys ignoring the treatment of illyrian women but reaping the benefit of having illyrians fight in his wars.

Feyre as high lady

It's unfair to judge feyres actions as high lady as yet because we've barely seen her act, but from the little that we know, she follows Rhys' every action and decision without question. And rhys hasn't done anything for the improvement of women's position socially or economically at all (we all know the state of the illyrian camps) in all the 500 yrs he's been high lord. Apart from Rhys, the inner circle has 2 women in the highest leadership positions and even they havent done anything and have even ignored the plight of women under their jurisdiction, (mor with Hewn city) I dont even think amren cares about anything besides her jewels tbh. So it's fair to assume that feyre will follow in those very footsteps. She already has biased and low views on the illyrians and people who reside in hewn city to the point where she participates in the 'pimp and whore' act that she puts on t deal with them. And we've never seen her speak to illyrian women so to her their voices and autonomy dont matter.

Male feminism in the IC

The only male who can be seen as being feminist in the series is Cassian because aside from simply declaring that wing clipping is illegal, he actually does the ground work to ensure it doesn't happen by offering the women to train with him. Though this is a weak cure for the issues the women face in Illyria, it's a start and far more work than anything the other characters have done in the name of women empowerment.

Another so called feminist figure in the series is rhysand. Why he's described as such defeats me, but I'll go through some points to prove that hes nothing of the sort.

1. He created a library for sexual assault survivors.

Though this is a nice effort, it can't be described as feminism because he doesnt extend the same courtesy to the other women in his territory and is only concerned with women in Velaris. Supporting women who worship you isnt feminism isnt feminism either and we know that the entirety of Velaris see the IC as blameless gods. Based on mors history, its obvious that the women in hewn city are suffering just as much if not more but hes forsaken them to live under mors parents/abusers rule. And creating a safe house for sexual assault survivors isnt as much feminism as it is human decency. Especially considering how much money hes got.

2. Banning illyrian wing clipping

Wing clipping is still a pandemic in the illyrian camps meaning that he didnt put enough provisions to ensure that it stops. Passing a law and ensuring that it is followed are two different things and rhys clearly dowsnt know the distinction. An additional point regarding illyrian women is that it was mentioned in acofas that they were joining the men in rebelling, and if that doesnt say anything about their feelings with him being high lord and how he doesnt cater to them, then I dont know what does. This also speaks to the point of the assumption that women of color dont have agency in their own societies. He said something like the men 'manipulated' the women into joining their rebellion, which insinuates that they can't think for themselves and are completely voiceless and this is a factor of whit feminism, the belief that WOC colour cant speak for themselves and are meek and susetable to being controlled or manipulated. It is a huge possibility that the women can't really express their opinions because they are suppressed by their men, however we dont see rhys interacting with any women and getting their opinion on things. He assumes that they are forced into everything and though we havent gotten the book yet I'm gonna say this is false. The reason being if rhys was such a good high lord and cared for women's issues, why would the women side with their 'abusive' men instead of their so called benevolent high lord?

3. Rhys appointed women in his IC

First of all, appointing women based on merit and qualifications is feminism, not appointing family members and you underaged bride just because 'you love her'. Though mor and amren may be qualified, and that's a massive 'maybe', they haven't done anything to improve the lives of women. Like their high lord they are complacent and Hewn city and illyria are more than enough to prove this. What rhys has essentially done is nepotism and corruption and no one can convince me otherwise.

Going further on the inner circle women, rhys was willing to sacrifice these very women to achieve his goal and this is self serving and anti feminist. The first being abusing feyre UTM and then using her as bait for the attor, then later making a deal with eris even though he knows his history with mor. If anyone believes that these actions are remotely feminist or excusable, then feminism is not for you and need help because its abusive and patriachal.

In conclusion rhys isnt feminist, mor isnt feminist, amren isnt feminist, feyre isnt feminist, azriel isnt even in the conversation and cassian is the only one scratching the surface. Also, white feminism is an exclusive and limited way to portray and execute feminism, women getting leadership positions based on their proximity to men just advances the false notion that women can only succeed if they 'sleep' their way to the top and just because a woman is in a leadership space, thag doesnt make that state of affairs inherently feminist because women are also carriers of patriarchy.

I tried to sum up my points but for more on white feminism, feminist intersectionalites and how being female doesnt make a person feminist, I advice you read Bell Hooks' writings because she touches on these topics in far better ways than I can.

#acotar #acowar #acomaf #anti inner circle #anti rhysand #anti feyre #my take on feminism #stop caling female representation feminism #anti sjm #sjm critical

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doakaptan · 4 years ago

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i think i finally get mad men and im not happy about it

Two weeks ago I started watching Mad Men for an assignment and accidentally became obsessed with a show that had no premise other than Don Draper bedding various women. 5 seasons in, I bought myself a mechanical keyboard just so that I can live the aesthetic of the show while writing this.

(I will write this post assuming you have read my first blog post about this show but you don’t have to worry about missing any info because the first blog post was me predicting an unpredictable show and cursing at characters)

So turns out, I did not really figure out anything by only watching the first seven episodes. No surprise there. But by diving deep into the first 2 seasons I realized that Mad Men is actually deeper than it lets on and the cheapening effect of its over-sexualized characters don’t really do a great job at hiding it. Actually after a while sex in the show is more symbolism than actual sex. It especially signifies a mental state that is special to Don and you actually start feeling sorry for him whenever a sex scene comes up.

Well, Don Draper is a villain as well as the hero or to put it more accurately, a tragic hero and as the seasons progress you develop a love hate relationship with him. And if you binge watch 5 seasons and use all your spare time to think about it, you start relating to Don. Surprisingly Don had all the odds against him and lived an awful life without ever doing anything to prompt it. As I learned more about his life I actually started getting mad at the alternative reality of Mad Men because goddamn let the man breathe and be happy for once.

At the start I was mad about him cheating on Betty with every single powerful women that looked his way and I am still mad, you can’t really excuse that, but as their relationship was revealed more and more I kind of started to understand why he preferred spending the nights somewhere else. Betty is incredibly hard to put up with and no offense but even I’m not sticking around for her character development. She is overbearing, childish, overall a pain in the ass. If I knew her in real life I would have thought that she was pampered too much and was unable to grow up and get a grip as a result. She has mommy issues though and I respect that. There are also moments that she shines and she especially prefers shining only after they get a divorce and when she knows she will get Don’s approval. Before I lose track and continue talk about Betty know that Don is always worse and let me wrap up his analysis.

Don is, in my opinion, someone who experiences love by avoiding it. (A love avoidant may be the term but I am not really sure). He marries Betty because he falls in love too hard and starts avoiding her right after their marriage, he likes the artist woman too much so he leaves her to be with someone she is more compatible with, same thing with the most of the women he chases. I only realized how hard he avoids the people he likes during season 4 when he decides to marry his secretary (who mind you spend like 4 days with him in Los Angeles to take care of his children) rather than building a healthy relationship with Faye who was probably the best person he could have ended up with. This also relates back to his self-destructive tendencies. He never truly believes that he deserved anything so he makes sure that he ruins it.

He excessively drinks and smokes, cuts ties on a whim, cheats and only ever feels truly like himself while he’s with Anna (who dies later in the series). Anna is and was the friend he needed all along. Even in his stolen identity Anna was the only person who accepted him as who he is and didn’t leave his side even in his darkest times. The man literally went to Korea by himself to defend an area and came back with a stolen id and lots of trauma and adopted himself into the life of her (the wife of the person he stole his identity from) and made sure she lived a life full of love. He shines the most when he can be himself but his old identity is and probably will always be an enigma to him.

I think he’s slowly starting to find his way and make up for his mistakes but since he is used to self-destructing his set backs get more and more brutal each time. I start relating to him at this point the most. Relapsing in situations like these is brutal and it always feels like it is the last time and for once, for Don, it is the last time. He starts writing to understand himself and starts doing things like, regularly going to swimming or getting into a healthy relationship with someone who will be with him and help him through his ups and downs. He relapses when he decides to marry his secretary and from then on his relapse will only get worse but I believe that he is getting somewhere…

I will update this post once and for all, when I finish the entire series but for now I weirdly have hope that everything will end well for Don.

And since I overstayed my welcome by going way over the word-limit I will speed run the thoughts I have about the other characters.

Betty, despite my comments earlier is actually misunderstood and deserves more than she gets. She truly loved Don and did everything in her power to make him happy. She even left her very successful modeling career to get married with him while SHE DESERVED BETTER THAN HIM. Her parenting is questionable but it can be overlooked because right now (in the middle of a global pandemic) we can all agree that being stuck with our family 24/7 is not ideal and we have been doing it for only a year while she has been doing it for more than a decade with more children adding up. LEAVE BETTY DRAPER/FRANCIS ALONE.

(Also, watch the scene where she shoots at her neighbor’s pigeons because he threatened little Sally with killing her dog then talk to me about good parenting…)

Pete Campbell, turns out I really like him and his work ethic. I wish he ended up with Peggy but he is doing just fine with Trudy good for him. good. for. him. Thank god they didn’t follow up Trudy’s ‘old lover’, ‘the one that got away' plot line because it would probably be the thing I hated the most about watching this show. She is not an interesting character and she’ll never be. Good for Pete though, good for Pete. He never gets anything and I don’t know if he deserves getting it because we are not that exposed to him. But he is loyal to the ones he loves and even though his morals can get a bit questionable at times he is hardworking and will build up a great life as far as I’m concerned. (And if he doesn’t you can find me on ao3 re-writing his plot because I am no longer appreciating Pete-slander in this house).

Peggy. GOOD FOR HER GOOD FOR HER. LEAVE THAT DAMN CATHOLIC CHURCH AND HANG OUT WITH WANNABE REALEST OF THE REALEST ARTISTS. Also love the gay girl she should have ended up with her instead of the wannabe artist who only talks about capitalism. Peggy’s job is capitalism their relationship don’t really make sense.

Joan… Joan deserved someone who treated her right but fell into the lap of a charming locker-room-mouthed jock, who tried to be a surgeon and failed then tried to be a psychiatrist and failed and finally got drafted for Vietnam (ngl I hope he dies there). Unpopular opinion she should have ended up with Roger because while I hate ‘the perfect girl fixes boy with problems’ trope I would have eat it up. I like them together and surprisingly they are good together. I think she is the only one smart enough to actually lead cis-het white men who think they own everything because they are men, within their company and she deserves more than she gets with the shit she deals with.

On a last note, the topics Mad Men deals with sometimes can get a bit triggering or upsetting but I think it is worth a watch.

#mad men #yes #im talking about mad men again #sue me #Don Draper #pete campbell #Peggy Olson #Betty Draper #betty francis #i am still attracted to don #u can sue me idc #he is attractive #joan harris

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yukinojou · 4 years ago

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I already squeed quite a bit on Twitter, but turns out my Shadow and Bone thoughts demand longform. So that was a 40+ tweet thread or using my Tumblr for an original post for once.

I was wary about the Shadow and Bone adaptation the way I'm usually wary about good books being adapted onscreen. It was amplified because my actual favourites are the Six of Crows books, and because the American-based movie complex has a bad track record of doing anything based on Eastern Europe. 8 episodes in 3 days should tell you how much I loved it - the moment I finished, I wanted more.

First, the technical praise:

Damn but the plotting is tight. It took me a while to realised it's based on heist movie bones, where every little thing (The Freaking Bullet!) is important. The story fulfills its promises and manages not to bore at the same time - it delights by the way they're fulfilled. I called out a few plot developments moments before they happened, and I was happy about it. Such a joy after so many series where "not doing what viewers expect" led to plot holes and lack of sense. It might be an upside to the streaming model after all.

From a dramatic point of view I can tell all the reasons for all the changes, especially providing additional outsider points of view on Ravka (Crows) and letting viewers see Mal for themselves the way he only comes across in later books.

Speaking of which, this is a masterclass in rewriting a story draft. SaB was Bardugo's first, and having read later books you can really see where she didn't quite dare to break the YA rules yet, especially Single POV that necessitated a tight focus on Alina's often negative feelings rather than the big picture and a triangle that felt a bit forced. The world in the series is so much bigger, the way Bardugo could finally paint it when SaB success gave her more creative freedom, and some structural choices feel familiar too. It's a combination of various choices by crew and cast, but the end result meshes together so tightly and naturally.

Visuals! Especially the war parts because Every Soviet Movie Ever, but also the clothes (I would kill for Nina's blouse in the bar), the jewelry, the interiors. The stag was so very beautiful. And a deep commitment to a coherent aesthetic for each character and setting.

Look, you can do a serious fantasy series with colours! Both skin colours and bright sets and clothing! And all scenes were well lit enough to know what's going on, even in the Fold!

Representation (aka I Am Emotion)

To start with: I was born behind the Iron Curtain, in the last years of the Cold War. The Curtain was always permeable to some extent, and we have always been aware that while we have talented artists of our own, we never had the budgets and polish of the Anglosphere Entertainment Machine. So we watched a hell of a lot of American visual storytelling especially because yeah, you can tell we don't have the budgets. 90s and 2000s especially, it's getting better now.

In American stories, the BEST case scenario for Eastern European representation is the Big Dumb Pole, the ethnic stereotype Americans don't even notice they use, where the punchline is that his English is bad or that he grew up outside Anglo culture. Other than that, it's criminals, beggars, sex trafficking victims, refugees. Sure, we may look similar (except we really really don't, not if you're raised here and see the distinct lack of all those long-jawed Anglo faces), but we are not and have never been the West, never mind America. It's probably better for younger people now, but I was raised under rationing and passport bans. Star Trek and Beverly Hills 90210 were exactly as foreign to me.

The first ever character I really identified with was Susan Ivanova in Babylon 5 (written by J. Michael Straczynski, yay behind-camera representation). This was a Russian Jewish woman very much in charge, in the way of strong women I know so well, not taking any bullshit, not repressing her feminity. I recognised her bones, she could be my cousin. The sheer relief of it. There have been few such occasions since.

The reason I picked up Shadow and Bone in the first place was recommendations from other Polish people. I've had no problems finding representation in Eastern European books because wow our scene is strong in SFF especially, but it's always a treat to find a book in English that gets it. And Leigh gets it, the bones of our culture, and I could even look past the grammar issue (dear gods and Americans, Starkova for a woman, Morozov for a guy) that really irked me because of the love for the setting and the characters, the weaving in of religion/mysticism (we never laicisized the same way as the West, natch), the understanding of how deep are the scars left in a nation at war for centuries. The books are precious to me, they and Arden's Winternight and Novik's Spinning Silver.

To sum up: Shadow and Bone the Netflix series gets it. You can tell just how much they've immersed themselves in Eastern European culture and media, it comes across so well in visuals and writing and characters. Not just the obvious bits (though the WWII propaganda posters gave me a giggle), but the palaces, the additional plotlines and characters, the costumes, the attitudes. About the only thing missing in the soldier scenes was someone singing and/or quoting poetry.

I will blame the Apparat's lack of beard on filming in a non-Orthodox country. Poland's Catholic too, but I very much imagined him as an Orthodox patriarch, possibly because I read the books shortly after a visit to Pecherska Lavra in Kiev and the labyrinthine holy catacombs there. Small quibble, not my religion, not my place to speak.

(I've seen discussion on the issues with biracial representation in the show, which is visceral and apparently based on bad experiences of one of the show writers in a way that's caused pain to other Asian and biracial people. I'm not qualified to speak on those parts, other that Eastern Europe is... yeah. Racist in subtly different ways. If anything, the treatment of the Suli as explained in Six of Crows always read so very true of the way Roma are treated, and even sanitised.)

And now for the spoiler-filled bits:

Kaz and Inej. I mean... just THEM. So many props to the actors, the writers, the bloody goat.

I adore the fact the only people who get to have sex in the show are Jesper and a very lucky stablehand.

Ben Barnes needs either an award or a kick. The man's acting choices and puppy eyes are as epic as his hair.

So Much Love for Alina initiating the kiss. Her book characterisation makes sense, she's so trapped in her own head because she has no time to process everything that's happening, but grabbing life by the lapels is a much more active choice. Still not making the relationship equal, but closer to it.

Speaking of, Kaz's constant awareness of how unequal his relationship with Inej is, and attempts to give her agency. I'm really curious how his touch issues come across to someone who doesn't know the backstory there.

Feodor and his actor. He looks exactly like the pre-war heartthrob Adolf Dymsza, a specific upper-class Polish ethnic type that's much rarer now that, well, Nazis killed millions of Polish intellectuals in their attempt to reduce us to unskilled labour only. The faces he makes are the Best.

Nina!! Nina is perfect, those cheekbones, that cheek, I was giggling myself silly half the time. I cannot wait to see Danielle Galligan take on the challenge of Nina's plotline in Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom, she'll kill us dead.

I already mentioned that the writers fixed Mal's absence from the first book, but Mal in general! The haircut gives him a kind of rugby charm, and Archie Renaux is outstanding at emoting without talking. Honestly, all the casting in this series is inspired, but him in particular.

Extra bonus: Howard Charles and Luke Pasqualino playing so very much against the type of the swaggering Musketeers I saw them play last. Arken dropping the mask at the end... Howard Charles is love.

I can't believe not only was Milo's bullet a plot point, but the fact Alina was wearing a particularly sparkly hair ornament in a long series of beautiful hair ornaments was a plot point.

In conclusion: so much love, and next three season NOW please. Okay, give me a week to reread the books, and an extra day because new Murderbot drops tomorrow...

#shadow and bone #six of crows #shadow and bone meta

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thatfunkyopossum · 4 years ago

Note

whys it a worthless video essay? genuinely curious on your thoughts :0

The racism mostly!

Disclaimer: i’m white, and not meaning to speak for any person of color! My opinions on this are formed based on what i noticed in combination with what i know about racism, and I believe that in this case i’m right about what i’ve observed. That said, my observations are open to criticism from any black people who might be reading this and feel like weighing in, as my only personal experiences in bigotry are with my identity as a queer person. In short: i’m not an expert, but i do have eyes and what they see is repulsive. Anyway this will be rambly.

First and foremost, The Tragedy of Droids by @popculturedetective’s editing directly connects the Droids in Star Wars with the atrocities of chattel slavery in the americas, and the perceived connection is at times hinted at in the script.

@4:10 into the video “...they’re also bought and sold like cattle” is a quote i caught when trying to find the following time stamps, because the editing is the real beast here.

There’s also @ 4:35 “you can probably guess where i’m going with this, because the social arrangement i’ve just described is one of property and owner. And a property relationship between two intelligent beings that gives one absolute power over the other is called slavery.”

In this video essay, there are multiple times when the visuals cut between Roots and the droids of Star Wars. This is important because Roots is a mini series based off the family history of the black man who wrote the book, Alex Haley, and the scenes being directly juxtaposed with Star Wars droids are the scenes from it where black people are on slave ships or being sold at auction. TToD essay, which was at the very least presented by a white man, wants the viewer to connect robots and black people for the sake of the essay’s argument. TToD essay wants the connection between real black human beings who actually lived and suffered and died in the real damn world to, i cannot stress this enough, machines.

To anyone who is reading this and not seeing why thats fucked up, because they view the droids as people, here’s the problem. Droids aren’t people. No matter how you slice it, no matter how much you love them, theres actually no way for us to be sure that 99% of droids are sentient beings, that are self aware, and that feel things. Droids in the Star Wars universe are constructed to be tools that talk to you and have fun personalities. Some droids might be self aware and sentient, but the likelihood is that the vast majority aren’t due to being what they are. Tools. This is in stark contrast to black people, because black people are, uh, people!!

At 4:00 into the video essay, we start to see the cuts between Roots and Star Wars. Pop Culture Detective cuts between C-3PO/R2-D2 being sold to Luke’s family and a black woman being put in front of a crowd of white people to be auctioned off. This same sequence of cuts is used again later in the video essay.

At 28:20 into the video, a clip from Star Trek: The Next Generation is used wherein Guinan (played by Whoopi Goldberg, a black woman) is talking about slaves and slavery, how there have been disposable people in history. This clip on its own is so, so good. It aired in 1989, and I have no idea what the political climate was like for black people then (im not as well versed in history as i would like) but i can guess it probably wasn’t good!

“...They do the dirty work. They do the work that no one else wants to do because its too difficult or too hazardous. You don’t have to think about their welfare. You don’t think about how they feel. Whole generations of disposable people.”

And then Pop Culture Detective uses this (to me) powerful line about atrocities done to human beings... and cuts to R2-D2 serving drinks to Jabba’s crew. PCD says some bullshit about how star wars is using the droids as an allegory for slavery but has nothing to say with the metaphor, and then it cuts back to Guinan to finish her speech. Might i say: what the fuck. What the fuck.

I can’t find it right now, but i distinctly remember there is also a bit where the visuals cut straight from a black man’s face to the face of an astromech.

And the cherry on top is that the clones are in this video... and never mentioned. Okay actually i’m going to talk about this video’s treatment of the clones and how utterly fucked up it is because i was so caught up in the “this essay wants you to think of the horrors of chattel slavery done to black people as being even remotely comparable to the existence of R2-D2” that i forgot to talk about the clones.

Okay so this video does not mention the clones at all. It uses clips from the clone wars and clips from the prequels movies with clones in them, but the clones aren’t even so much as talked about in passing. The closest we get is this brushing off of the issue in general @29:50:

“Remember, this is a universe where humanoid slavery exists as well, but its presented as unambiguously negative, though not exactly something the heroes are in a rush to abolish.”

Which is said about Anakin and his mother. And its not like they forgot about the clone wars and to talk about it at all! No, they had this to say on it @15:10. See if you notice anything.

“...But what about Battle droids?... Well, the separatist droid army in the prequels seems specifically designed as little more than canon fodder. Making the bad guys unfeeling robots avoids the messy moral complications and mass casualties that would result from an interstellar war. If battle droids aren’t alive then the audience doesn’t have to care when thousands of them are killed in extended battlefield scenes. Indeed we’re encouraged to think of these types of droids as mere objects and to cheer at their dismemberment.”

Drink it in y’all, i’m still absorbing it. I’ll note that sections of this were played over clips from the first battle of geonosis, and there were clones on screen. So, PCD completely sidesteps the issue of the clones, seemingly unaware of the actual explicit enslavement of brown men who are unquestionably living thinking feeling people, in favor of projecting humanity onto every single droid including the infamously poorly programed B1 Battle droids.

I don’t know what else I can say on that besides the fact that some obscure ass clips from the clone wars are used to humanize the robots, implying that PCD watched tcw and missed the episode where Slick calls the Jedi slavers.

There’s other problems with it as a whole, like the essayist completely failing to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that all droids are sentient, or that even most droids are. No consideration is given to the purpose, construction, or make/model of droid into the question of “are they sentient”? And we’re left with the implication that your average mouse droid is at all relatable to a black person.

In fact, PCD in this essay seems to actually imply that r2-d2 and bb8 being sentient-ish robots we’re supposed to empathize with, and the battle droids being not that, is due to a failure/breakdown of internal logic. And not that they’re, you know, different machines...?

I have so much to say on this mess, but this is long enough as it is. In conclusion, Pop Culture Detective’s video essay should have been about the clones, but it chose to focus on droids instead and in doing so dehumanized black people in an attempt to humanize robots.

I’ll leave you with this quote from the video, but edited slightly to be instead about the clones.

“[Slick]’s observations about [clone] slavery could have been an opportunity for Star Wars to finally grapple with the uncomfortable fact that...the good guys seem to have been keeping sentient beings in a state of perpetual servitude.”

#long post #racism #slavery #star wars

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snarkesthour · 4 years ago

Text

Happy St George's Day!

· In the midst of a pandemic when schools are all closed, the government votes to not allow free school meals to schoolchildren during school holidays, despite this being the only meal many of them have each day

· Marcus Rashford, a footballer, led the drive to feed the nation’s children, 49% of which live in poverty, and forced the government to provide food for them during the school holidays

· Instead of previous years when vouchers were given to parents that can only be spent on nutritious food, members of government give contracts to friends to provide a week’s work of food costing £5 to schoolchildren for a price of £30. Food is unhealthy and would not last a week

· Parcels also expect parents to cook two tablespoons of rice at a time in the oven and bake their own bread every day, ignoring poverty-stricken families possible lack of access to such equipment

· Wife of conservative MP attacks poor families for eating unhealthy food when healthy food is cheaper, ignoring the fact that not all families have access to equipment needed to store and cook it

· Nigel Farage, head of the Brexit party came out strongly against the government for their stance on starving schoolchildren. Not a good look.

· Another MP came out and said that poor families should not receive government assistance because the money would be going direct to brothels and crackhouses and the parents would spend it on drink and drugs instead of feeding their kids, a dangerous and persistent stereotype of working class people

· For the first time in its history, UNICEF is feeding kids in the UK – the 5th richest country in the world – and the head of the House of Commons accused them of “playing politics” and said they should “be ashamed of themselves”

· J.K. Rowling came out hard as a TERF (Trans Exclusionary Radical Feminist), writing a book about a serial killer that dresses up as a Muslim woman, which isn’t subtle when you look at her history of transphobia and other “-isms”

She also publicly supported an author who wrote a book about the destruction of Europe by waves of Muslim immigration

· Speaking of J.K. Rowling, the government’s response to the Gender Recognition Act.

· It is now impossible for under 16s to receive reversible puberty blockers

· Wait times at NHS Gender Clinics, of which there are only 7 in the country, have doubled, with wait times now up to 60+ months (5+ years)

· Keir Starmer, head of the Labour (left wing) party says he doesn’t want to get involved in trans issues

· With the loss of Labour, no major party supports trans rights

· Self ID is no longer allowed, meaning every step of transition is medicalised and involves the trans person having to prove that they are “trans enough” at every stage to panels of cis people

· Government wants to invalidate non-enrolled deed polls, essentially making available a public list of every trans person in the UK

· Hate crimes have quadrupled

· Anti-trans campaigners are now setting their sights on trans adults’ access to hormones

· A petition was formed to counter this and was reviewed by the government, who determined that nothing was wrong with the GRA except that it might have been a bit lax.

· The Guardian newspaper ran child labour and child starvation supporting stories

· Internal border now along the border of Kent and lorry drivers must produce travel papers (Brexit Passport) to cross it, placing the county of Kent in a state of “no man’s land”

· Government fails to lockdown on time, every time

· Government refuses to ban conversion therapy in the UK

· Scotland adopts Human Rights of Children, which requires the government to better support children and families, especially those who are poor, disabled, minorities or young carers. England does not

· The government declared that sleeping rough is now grounds for deportation

· Schools reopened several times despite being warned not safe to do so

· The government banned NHS workers from speaking out about COVID

· Do Not Resuscitate orders proposed for those in care homes, with learning disabilities and who are autistic

· The government cut pensions as the COVID death toll rose

· The government learnt about new South-East COVID strain in September and didn’t come forwards until December

· New COVID strain targets kids, teens, and young adults, and yet none of those groups are allowed vaccination unless a serious pre-existing condition is had, even if they are key workers

· Downing Street says UK should be model of racial equality because government report says no institutional racism in the UK

· Report also says young people are young and foolish for thinking it exists and that minorities are superstitious and irrational and are sabotaging themselves out of success

· It came out that the government was given the independent report and rewrote it to the version that was released to the public – the version that says racism doesn’t exist in the UK

· The rewritten report also refers to the slave trade as the “Caribbean experience”, like those enslaved were on holiday

· Woman in London abducted, murdered and dismembered by off-duty cop and when socially distanced vigil goes ahead, police wait until dark before trapping women, arresting them, using excessive force on them, and also destroying memorial

· Bill passed in government that allows undercover officers to commit serious crimes such as murder, torture and rape

· Plainclothes police to now patrol nightclubs and bars due to aforementioned murder by police officer

· Bill passed that bans any protest at all, no matter how quiet, unobstructive or small it is, including single-person protests. Bill also includes a 10 year sentence for damaging a statue, which is a longer sentence than for rape

· TV programmes critical of the government have been cancelled

· Universities have been told what to platform and schools have been told what to teach, including banning material speaking about BLM and calling for “overthrow” of capitalism

· Voting has been supressed, mainly those who are working class or POC

· During protests in Bristol, press was assaulted and pepper sprayed by police and two legal observers were arrested

· Being Roma/Traveller and living the traditional Roma/Traveller lifestyle is now illegal under that same bill that bans protests. They also have to register as such and receive a licence or risk losing their vehicles

· Hours before Eid, lockdown across the UK with no warning whatsoever, meaning people woke up the next morning after visiting relatives to find themselves “criminals”. The country was opened up specifically for Christmas though

· Conservative (right wing) party blamed BAME (Black And Minority Ethnic) communities for dying of COVID more than white people

· Landlords have been protected extensively and renters blamed for living in close quarters or having to take public transport to work

· Conservatives have launched investigation into possible corruption in Liverpool Council. Liverpool is a Labour stronghold and if corruption is found then the Conservatives can seize control of the council. No evidence of corruption is present as of yet

· Military threatened to stage a coup if Corbyn (then head of the labour party) became Prime Minister

· Government orders all government buildings in England, Wales and Scotland to fly the Union Flag every day to boost patriotism

· MPs call for the curriculum to require teaching the history of the Union Flag rather than Britain’s many atrocities

· The first fortnight of April saw a mini heatwave with temperatures up to 20°C immediately followed by snow, and this is ignored in favour of debating “vaccine passports” in order to visit the pub

· UK allows for international summer holidays despite being warned it will cause a third wave, such as the situation in Germany

· Government placed asylum seekers arriving in the UK in army barracks where they were to sleep 24 to a room with no open windows or air circulation, and when COVID inevitably ran rampant, the Home Secretary accused the asylum seekers of not following COVID protocol, such as social distancing

· Several accounts of self-harm and suicide attempts were reported from the asylum barracks and were dismissed

· UK to deport unaccompanied minor asylum seekers

· UK refuses entry into the UK for radicalised teen failed by system who joined ISIS. Case is difficult and controversial because teen wishes to return to the UK temporarily to fight for her citizenship after the UK broke international law by stripping it from her, despite her not having dual citizenship. Argument given was that her parents were from Bangladesh and so she could apply for citizenship there. Bangladesh refused. Teen is now stateless and living in a refugee camp after losing several children, unable to fight for her citizenship to be reinstated.

· Rioting in Northern Ireland, which included the first use of water cannons in 6 years, a bus being hijacked and burnt, a press photographer attacked, and people throwing bricks, fireworks and petrol bombs at police, not to mention some of the clashes happening over a peace wall in west Belfast, completely ignored in British media and then later drowned out by non-stop news of Prince Phillip’s death, obscuring any important news from being heard. Riots were over Northern Ireland’s being a part of the UK

· MPs take vote on whether China’s treatment of Uighurs constitutes genocide. They decide it does, but that it isn’t their job to do anything further

· Home Office released their spending for the 2020 fiscal year. It’s a mess, including over £77,000 at an eyebrow salon in March alone, and £6,000+ in Pollyanna Restaurant which doesn't appear to exist.

· When people started questioning the spending, the Home Office sent a tweet fact checking themselves

· Country reopened over the summer for Eat Out To Help Out, a scheme to boost the economy. COVID cases rose sharply and the government then blamed people, but mostly working class people, for not following restrictions such as only leaving the house when absolutely necessary, after telling them it was safe

· Foreign NHS workers denied COVID vaccinations

· GCSEs and A-Levels were cancelled due to COVID-19 and expected exam grades were to be used instead. Private school students received grades much higher than they were expecting, and state school students received grades much lower, some grades falling as far as an A to an E. This was because the government couldn’t imagine state school students being smart enough to receive the high grades they were predicted to get; after much uproar the grades were scrapped, and a new method was introduced

· BBC offered staff grief counselling following Prince Philip’s death, but not after having to report on the ever-rising COVID death toll

· The COVID-19 Infection Survey closed in mourning for Prince Philip, with workers to contact participants to reschedule visits for “as soon as possible” when they return to work

· Census workers told to pack up and go home and were placed on immediate unpaid leave due to the death of Prince Philip, but told they must make up the hours later

· Conservative MPs lobbied for a new royal yacht after voting to keep schoolchildren hungry (see first points)

· The BBC’s complaint page crashed over the amount of complaints they got of their coverage of Prince Philip’s death. It was covered non-stop for over 24 hours and the page came in at over 100,000 complaints before going down

· BBC also fast becoming politically biased despite their requirement to be apolitical, after cutting out the audience laughing at Boris Johnson on Question Time, displaying Corbyn as a communist figure in front of a prominent piece of Russian architecture, and providing a platform for a Conservative MP to tell a stage 4 bowl cancer patient that her life wasn’t valuable on live television

· On the COVID-19 pandemic, the BMJ, (British Medical Journal) said about the government that “science was being suppressed for political and financial gain” by “some of history’s worst autocrats and dictators”

· Not only did Boris Johnson launch Eat Out To Help Out when he was warned it was dangerous, lifted lockdowns too early when he was warned it was too dangerous, reopened schools when he was warned it was too dangerous, but when scientists said the second COVID jab should be delivered within 3 weeks he decided that was too tall an order and it should be within 12 weeks – after a period of radio silence, suddenly the science fit his plan. No scientists came forwards to defend it

· The Home Secretary, Priti Patel, blamed protestors for protests that became violent from police attacking protestors, bullied staff members under her, bought members of staff in her department, said it was “disgraceful” to topple the statue of Edward Colson, a slave trader, in Brighton because it undermined anti-racism protests, held treasonous meetings with Israel with the plan to divert aid money, and threatened to starve Ireland in order to get them to agree to Brexit

· She also wants to set up Australian-style asylum processing centres on British islands, but the islands she wants are in the Atlantic ocean and over 4000 miles away from the UK. This is because she wants to help asylum seekers enter the UK legally, completed ignoring or oblivious to all the reasons that asylum seekers might not be able to do that, and for the fact that to seek asylum you must essentially walk up the border and ask for it

· The bungling of the Track and Trace system – the government spent £10bn on a system to track and trace the spread of COVID-19. All data was stored on an Excel spreadsheet which developed a technical glitch and many results were lost before the system was scrapped

· As Autism Acceptance month began, the BBC ran a story saying the autism causes fascism, and that an autistic person who had chosen to embrace the ideology was incapable of seeing that a neo-Nazi group he joined was morally bad because he was autistic

#st george's day #uk politics

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daretosnoop · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 3: The Secret Room

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Once outside, Nancy gave Renee her chocolate and returned her key. She then walked around the small garden towards the gates that led to the cemetery. Following Henry’s instructions, Nancy eventually spotted the top of the mausoleum. She approached the mausoleum door but they were locked. Looking around the front, she saw the same crow engraving from the paper on the lower left. Along the bottom of the mausoleum were four different designs, a crow, bones, a worm, and a coffin. Odd. Then again, everything that happened so far had been eerie. Nancy placed her paper over each engraving and rubbed the image onto it. She quickly placed the papers back into her coat and hurried back towards the Bolet manor.

Once inside and back at the model mausoleum, Nancy put the engravings into each slot. She heard a click and the mausoleum roof opened to reveal a key. Now where do you go? Then she understood. This was clearly the key for the mausoleum. Pocketing the key, she hurried back towards the study. As she left through the doors, she noticed Henry was not at his desk.

As Nancy approached the mausoleum she could hear muffled sobs. It was Henry! He was, sobbing? Henry was down on his knees and letting out a torrent of tears. Nancy tried to mask her presence but it was too late. Henry heard her boots approaching. He snapped his head towards her direction. They locked eyes. His stunned expression mirrored Nancy’s, but before she could call out to him, Henry jolted up and ran away, the rain quickly masking his figure.

Nancy never knew how to comfort people. She understood grief, but others always found her advice to be too hard to swallow. Henry was clearly hurting more about his uncle’s death then he let on, but Nancy didn’t know what to say to comfort him. Move on? That’s what she did when her mother died. At least, her father never mentioned Nancy having any issues moving on from her mother’s death. Life went on, and she moved with it. Considering Henry’s testy nature, Nancy thought it was best to carry on like she never saw him.

She eagerly unlocked the mausoleum door, anticipating what she would find inside. Silence greeted her. Leaving the door open, Nancy walked through the small interior. She noticed every coffin had a stone marker with the name Bolet. So, this is the Bolet family’s private burial ground. She looked towards the more recent deaths, but Bruno Bolet was not there. There were, however, two other names with the same death date. Henry mentioned his parents died in a car crash. Marianne and Claude Bolet. Now it made sense why Henry was crying out here, alone. Not knowing what else to do, Nancy simply placed her hand on the stone markers and listened to the rain.

From her periphery, Nancy noticed a rolled parchment on the right-hand side of the mausoleum. She picked it up and unrolled it. Two figures stared back at her. A woman with lush brown hair gazed forward. Her eyes stared down at the beholder and a Cheshire smile laced her lips, as if she knew something they didn’t. Her arms were wrapped around a man. He was shorter than her and looked rather plain were it not for the smile on his face and his eyes which were affixed upon his wife. Charming couple, must be Henry’s parents. Then Nancy noticed that Marianne was holding an umbrella in her hand. She smiled. Of course. The kookiness of this family was quickly growing on her.

Nancy tucked the painting within her trench coat and headed back towards the manor. Upon entering she saw that Henry was back at his desk with a dry shirt. He very pointedly refused to acknowledge Nancy and she moved towards the living room. She took down the empty frame, attached the painting of Henry’s parent’s, and placed it back on the wall. Now what? Since each Bolet was holding an object, Nancy was sure that they were clues to something. She sighed. She would have to ask Henry, if he knew anything, and if he was even willing to talk to her.

Bracing herself, Nancy slowly slinked back into the study room. If Henry heard her, he did not give any indication. She moved closer towards the bookcases, thinking of something to say that would allow her to ask Henry about his family. Good god, Nancy, just ask him outright! The worst he can say is no! Or he could throw her out of the house. She leaned against a book shelf and was about to address him when she heard noises coming from the bookshelf. Looking up, she noticed that the stuffed iguana had moved!

The not-stuffed iguana leaped away from the bookshelf, knocking over a crate of books and scurried quickly out of sight. Henry swiveled around from the commotion but Nancy saw that he was not mad. In fact, there was a glint of humour in his eyes and he looked like he was suppressing a chuckle.

“What was that?” Nancy asked.

“That was uncle Bruno’s pet iguana, Iggy. He’s always in here stealing paper. Must be using it to build a nest or something”.

“An iguana! Keen!”

Henry shrugged as his face fell back into a scowl. “Hey, look. I had all those books arranged so they fit perfectly. Could you put them back please? I don’t have time”.

Nancy looked up and saw that Henry had his cell in one hand.

“Sure”.

“Groovy”.

Henry turned around and initiated a call with someone. Nancy eavesdropped for a bit, but there was nothing important. She turned towards the books and started to place them back. Once done, she noticed that one of the books was written by an old acquaintance. Beatrice Hotchkiss, professor of French history. She wrote a famous book on Marie Antoinette based the journal Nancy uncovered when she vacationed in Wisconsin. Looks like she wrote another book. The Crystal Skull: Fact of Fable? Strange, not related to French history. It must have been the result of professor Hotchkiss’s side research. The woman was a genius and always had some side project going on. Nancy opened it and saw a number near Hotchkiss’s name.

Flipping through the book she read about the theory and histories behind the legendary crystal skulls. They came from the Mayans and were made of a single pure crystal quartz. However, the skull’s histories enveloped a vast array of cultures. Some Indigenous communities claimed there to be 13 skulls total, and when united, they would reveal all the secrets of the universe to mankind. Some argued that the skulls came from Atlantis, and others believed the skulls contained some power and would give its owner anything from telekinesis to invisibility. One skull in particular, “The Whisperer” was reputed to give its owner immortality. It had a history of belonging only to owners who did not die of natural causes. Nancy sighed. There was being eccentric, and then there was poppycock. Still, she knew professor Hotchkiss would not write on something that did not have some irrefutable evidence.

As she closed the book, a piece of paper fell out. It had letters randomly spaced out on it. Three letters at the top and four at the bottom. Nancy recognized that the position of the letters matched the position of the photo frames. Perhaps the letters tell me where to place the photos! She hurried back to the living room and was pleased to see that her theory was correct. Each object a family member held corroborated with a letter. Arranging the pictures like the letters, Nancy heard the noise of a door unlocking behind her. She turned and noticed that a portion of the wall opened up. A secret passage way!

Nancy eagerly walked into the secret room and up the stairs. There was a door and it was locked. Rats. She looked at the lock, hoping that maybe she could use a paperclip. Instead there was a metal etching of a spider web with dashes coming out in various locations. I’m guessing that this Bruno Bolet foul proofed the door from blindly breaking in. It was another dead end, for now. Nancy pulled out her phone and took a picture of the lock. Walking back down slowly, Nancy heard noises coming from Bruno’s study. Leaning closer to the wall, she could hear Henry’s voice. He was arguing with someone.

“Aw c’mon Summer! Give me a break! You never said anything about that!” Henry paused listening to Summer’s response. “Well, how was I supposed to know? I mean, what am I? Telepathic? No. No. C’mon Summer. Don’t get upset! Look, I’ll see what I can do, okay?”

There was a silence as Henry listened to Summer’s reply.

“What do you mean ‘something else’? You gotta be kidding me, Summer. I don’t have that kind of money!”

Summer must have said something harsh because Henry quickly changed his tone.

“No. No. I meant, I don’t have it now, but I will soon. Okay? Bye”.

Conversation over, Nancy heard Henry toss his cell onto the table and groan.

Yikes, Nancy thought. On top of a dead uncle, Henry seemed to be having major issues with this Summer person. Has this guy ever been able to catch a break? No wonder why he was grumpy all the time.

As she reached the wall-door, Nancy noticed a spyglass built into the wall. Curious she peered through and saw the study again. Or rather, a specific shelf within the study. There was a zoom button and moving the cursor, Nancy caught the sight of a book, The Eye of the Beholder. Keeping it in the back of her mind, Nancy went out to talk to Henry.

When she entered the study, Nancy saw Henry looking towards the double doors that marked the entrance to the garden. He had a hand on his cheek and a vacant expression on his face.

“Want me to open the door for some fresh air?”

“No,” came a quiet response. Henry didn’t turn towards her.

Nancy tried again.

“I need to ask you some questions”.

Slowly Henry unfolded from his position and turned to face her. He looked exhausted.

“And what is it you need?” Henry asked in a tone that implied Nancy’s request was not something he wanted.

“I need to ask you about your uncle Bruno”.

Henry made a gesture with his hand for Nancy to continue.

“Okay, look, I know this is going to sound like nonsense, but I’m not losing my mind when I say what I’m about to say, okay?”

Henry gave her a puzzled look, then nodded softly.

“What can you tell me about your uncle?”

Henry shrugged. “Not much more than what I told you”.

“Well, you mentioned he was eccentric”.

“Yep”.

“And this manor isn’t exactly what you would call normal”.

Henry rolled his eyes and gave a small smile.

“Tell me about it. But that’s just your perspective”.

This was interesting to hear. Nancy titled her head and asked, “You find the manor normal?”

“Look at me,” Henry said gesturing to himself. “I fit right in.”

“Well, you are a Bolet”.

Henry stiffened at Nancy’s response. “Doesn’t really mean much. The family name and its meaning left me the day my parent’s died. Now Bolet just means something else”.

Nancy wanted to ask what it meant to Henry, but Henry, despite his firm appearance, looked like he wanted to cry.

“Right sorry, getting off topic. Well, you see, your uncle’s eccentric behaviour, well,” Nancy hesitated. She didn’t really know how to explain it to Henry. It wasn’t unusual in her line of work to stumble across locks and odd clues, but it was rare to see them so intentionally placed.

“I think your uncle is hiding something”.

“What?” Henry asked.

“I don’t know what or why, but your uncle’s eccentricities have a pattern. There are all sorts of wacky locks around the house and they each lead to a clue and another lock. I think your uncle was hiding something from someone”.

“My uncle?” Henry asked.

“Yep”

“Hiding something?”

“Oh ya”.

“And you’re sure your head’s not hurting right now? Cause I think you’ve got a concussion coming on”.

Nancy rolled her eyes.

“I know it sounds mad, but I’m telling you the truth. I can even show you”.

“Look, it’s getting late. Why don’t you just let this go? Whatever my uncle was hiding is not important now. He’s dead, so whatever he’s hiding is not worth anything anymore. Just go on back home and enjoy your vacation”.

Annoyance flared through Nancy.

“It does matter! It does matter Henry Bolet! I don’t know anything about your uncle or the Bolet family but there is clearly something important being kept secret here! Something someone wants desperately. I did not make up that skeleton figure, and if they were willing to attack me for whatever your uncle has, think of what they will do to you, to Renee! You cannot just ignore it!”

“Oh I can ignore it, just like my uncle ignored me”.

“This isn’t about you or your uncle. This is about something bigger. I don’t know what, but if you ignore it… I don’t know, but something’s just not right and in my experience that usually means trouble”.

Henry sighed and Nancy tried to again.

“Please. Just let me show you what I know. If you don’t find any of it intriguing, I’ll go”.

Henry got up and walked over to Nancy.

“Alright, lead the way”.

Nancy led him to the living room, explaining all her work and deductions up till now. She pointed to the mausoleum and pulled out the key it hid from her trench coat. She then pointed to the portrait of Henry’s parents and explained the order that unlocked the secret passage door. She led him up the stairs and pointed to the lock.

“I don’t suppose you know how to unlock this?” she asked. She was about to say more, about to delve deeper into her theories on what might be going on and further steps, but when she looked back at Henry, the man looked pale. He stumbled out of the passageway and melted onto a living room sofa.

They were endless in their onslaught. While the whispers didn’t give Henry any pain, they were distracting, making it difficult to do anything but listen. They repeated so many phrases to Henry as he tried to work. It didn’t help that there was now another person in the house. While Nancy ran about chasing some skull man, the whispers chased Henry with words.

Garden…skull…man…garden…bury…garden…look…her…spider.

At one point he gave into the voice and went out to the garden. They grew eager and urged him here and there till he found himself at the vulture shrine again. Bury…bury…bury.

“I can’t,” Henry exclaimed to the air, then realized what he had just done. Mad as he seemed to be, the words had their effect and the whispers quieted down. Enjoying the silence, he walked towards the cemetery gates, entered, and wandered around. Even after seventeen years, the paths were familiar. Henry remembered roaming around as an eight-year old. Uncle Bruno gave him free run of the place, for the most part, and a despondent, lonely Henry sought friends in the afterlife. He knew exactly where his legs were heading, the same legs that stumbled upon a solitary mausoleum as a boy. The door was open and when little Henry stepped inside, he saw his uncle yelling at the Bolet engravings, before collapsing in a sobbing heap. Now at twenty-five, the mausoleum stood tall and alone. Henry tried the door, but it was locked. Of course it was locked. When eight-year-old Henry ran away from his crying uncle, the Bolet mausoleum shut Henry out. The ominous building with its locked doors made its message clear, you do not belong here.

“So then where do I belong?” Henry cried out, stupidly to the rain. He collapsed onto the ground and felt warm rain run down his cheeks. No one responded. Even the rain became muffled. So Henry sobbed a thousand apologies though the recipients were long gone and forgotten. He didn’t know how long he sat there, but soon the pitter patter of the rain turned into the clicking of boots and Henry shot his head up to see a woman in a trench coat—Nancy Drew. Sound returned and Henry realized where he was and how he must have looked. The whispers came back.

Skull…man…skull…find…woman…garden…woman…spider.

Henry scrambled to his feet and dashed away. When he got back into the house, he changed his clothes and did his best to ignore Nancy. She, thankfully, didn’t bring up what she saw. But the whispers continued, and when Nancy returned, when she explained her convoluted theories, when she ushered Henry towards the living room and explained her madness, when Henry saw the door to the secret passage way open, when he saw the spider on the lock, he knew deep down that she was right. Bruno Bolet knew something and these whispers were determined he faced his uncle head on.

“Like I said, I’m pretty sure your uncle was hiding something. Trust me, in my experience people don’t make secret rooms if there wasn’t something to keep secret”.

Nancy continued to pace back and forth, lost in thought as theories spilled out of her. Initially, Henry just pressed his fingers to his nose and listened to her ramble. When he had the energy, he looked up and noticed that Nancy was soaking wet. The rugs are going to need cleaning now. Thankfully, most of the house was hardwood flooring. Henry glanced at his phone. 9:45 p.m. He looked back at Nancy, but she did not seem to be stopping any time soon.

“Henry, I think I need to call professor Hotchkiss. Your uncle seemed to have her number, at least, I think it’s her number. But she might know what’s going on”.

Nancy whirled towards him, eyes bright.

“So, what can you tell me about your family?”

“I already told you, I don’t know anything.”

“No,” Nancy countered. “You said you knew nothing about your uncle. You didn’t mention your family”.

“What’s the difference? I really know nothing”.

“Nothing at all?” Nancy’s voiced dropped as despair creeped in. Her eyes dimmed as she slowly slipped back into thought. Watching her, Henry felt his stomach clench. He searched the recesses of his mind for any scrap of memory, anything that might be of use for her.

“All I know from my parents is that the Bolet’s are an old family, synonymous with New Orleans”.

Nancy did not react and Henry dug further into his memories. It was hard to remember the things you did with your parents when you were young. The world mainly revolved around you. But memories had the ability to preserve expressions. Faces and reactions that you can only explore as an adult.

“My father, he always became sober when he had to return to the family manor. We didn’t live here, so you can imagine my surprise at hearing manor and seeing a bungalow when I came here at eight. My father was a very happy man, especially when my mother was around. He would,” Henry cracked a smile. “He would just light up and the whole room turned bright. Everyone felt the warmth. He usually went to the manor by himself. Mom was busy in the lab, so dad had to go by himself”.

Henry looked up and saw Nancy stare at him pensively. Unable to stand her fixed attention on him, he looked towards his phone.

“It’s getting late,” he started.

“So let me get this straight,” Nancy cut in. “Your uncle dies and it seems he’s designed some locks around the house. Your dad always comes here alone. Your family is wrapped up in the history of New Orleans and no one questions this or tries to change it. And now, a skeleton man appears. Henry,” she suddenly said and her voice dropped. “Is your family running a cult?”

“What,” Henry exclaimed. He jolted up from the sofa and placed his hands on his hips.

“Of all the— “

“I know it sounds weird, but think about it. All I know is that something is being hidden here and everyone respects the Bolets. What other conclusions would you come to?”

“Well,” Henry ran his fingers through his hair. “I wouldn’t immediately jump to cult. What would make you think that?”

Nancy looked away, a little bashful.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been a houseith a secret”.

The stood together in silence for a while until Nancy asked him whether he believed her.

“Frankly, the cult theory sounds rubbish”. His eyes darted towards Nancy but she just gave him a small smile, prompting him to continue. “But, there might be something uncle Bruno was hiding”.

“So,” Nancy began, a smile growing on her face. “Want to help me find out what it might be?”

Henry was taken aback by her smile. He was reluctant to admit that the idea of searching through Bruno’s junk for some treasure was appealing. It didn’t help that Nancy’s smile seemed so mischievous, as is she knew he would find her offer more appealing than the piles of paper that sat on Bruno’s desk. At the thought of the work that awaited him, Henry scowled and shook his head.

“No. I already have enough to do”. He took a deep breath. “It’s getting late,” he started again.

This time Nancy got the hint. She didn’t want to go and was quite ready to stay up the whole night figuring out this case, but she couldn’t well do that in someone else’s house. Darn social politeness! But, if she left now, who knows what would happen tomorrow, or whether even Henry would let her investigate.

“The rain and power outage have most taxi services out of order. I don’t know if you’ll get a cab. You’re going to have to spend the night here”.

Nancy looked at Henry, appalled.

“Don’t worry,” Henry rushed to assure her. “We’ve got plenty of food, blankets, and room. So, it might put a damper on your vacation plans, but you can go back in the morning. I would drop you myself but”.

Henry didn’t finish his sentence and his throat clenched.

“Thank you Henry!” Nancy exclaimed. “You’re a great friend”.

Friend? They barely knew each other.

“Oh we’re going to have so much fun! I tell the best stories, all my friends say so,” Nancy rambled again and Henry looked at her confused.

“We’re not kids. This isn’t a sleepover”.

“Come on Henry, live a little. It’ll be fun”.

Henry just sighed.

“Groovy”.

#nancy drew #CRY #Legend of the Crystal Skull #henry bolet

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alexmitas · 4 years ago

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Why I’m Just Like Crime & Punishment’s Raskolnikov and so Are You: A Brief Analysis of Dostoevsky’s Most Famous Novel

Just last night I finished Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment. After mulling it over for a day (likely not nearly long enough to have substantiated a complete analysis, but with my memory I risk forgetting things if I move on to another book before writing about one that I’ve just finished), I’ve decided to get some of my thoughts down. Firstly, I will say that I am struck. While I’m clearly neither the first nor last person to be amazed by this novel, a work as significant as this one still deserves its praise where it’s due. People will often preface praise based on their interpretation of a creative endeavor by stating that its imperfection is obvious, even though that it’s also the best-est or their favorite, or one of the best-est or their favorite creative works that they have ever encountered, or something of the sort. I won’t be so bold to as to make that statement. That’s because, without a doubt, this was a perfect novel. After all, if something is so close to approaching a spade, by all reasonable measures, and only becomes better and better, and more and more like a spade, with age, then why not call it a spade?

Since the beginning I had a certain kind of resonance with Raskolnikov, the novel’s main character. But just as you can’t fully judge a story unless you consider it as a single, coherent piece (that is, until you have read from beginning to end), so too did I not understand the reason for my resonance with Raskolnikov until I finished reading his full tale. He’s young, he’s handsome, he’s intelligent: check, check, check; these things all apply to me, at least to some minor degree - that much was obvious from the very beginning - but while this superficial resonance was my first impression upon dining, it paled in comparison to the impression I had after the final bite of desert; to say nothing of the pleasant after dinner conversation among friends, the latter of which, of course, I use as a metaphor for the epilogue[1]. Every flaw I see in Raskolnikov, I also see in myself; for every action he takes, I can imagine a world in which I could be drawn down a path that would lead me to make the very same decisions, and to take the very same actions. I don’t know what could possibly be a better model than that for a main character.

Perhaps Raskolnikov’s biggest flaw is his overinflated ego, which is hardly out of the ordinary for someone his age, and isn’t entirely unjustified - as I said, he has three of the most promising traits one could hope for: intelligence, youth, and good-looks – but which does, in his case, lead him down an ideological rabbit hole of naivete, a hole which he creates for himself by dropping out of school, refusing work when it’s offered to him, and letting his resentment for the world grow as he lives off of a handful of meager sums sent to him by his mother and sister as a debt ridden fool in a poor Russian city during the eighteen-hundreds. This ideological thinking, which we shall not confuse with illogical thinking, for it is very much logical, brings Raskolnikov to the thought that, yes, it would in fact be a good idea to murder and rob the wealthy old pawnbroker whom is commonly considered amongst his peers as a mean-ol’ crone, holder of many a promissory note, rumored to have left her wealth to the building of a statue in her image through her will, rather than to her own children, whilst also being a generally unsightly and disagreeable woman, and, having done this, could aim to put her money to a more just cause, perhaps distributing it to others, or perhaps using it to further his own career which he would certainly payback in the form of greater value to society later on. And it isn’t such a crazy sounding idea, is it? After all, what is but one crime if the outcome provides a much greater net good? I’ve known many people, including myself, who’ve had thoughts not so unlike this one, and I suspect you are no different, dear reader. So having rationalized this to himself, Raskolnikov goes through with it, and thereby provides us a story of his Crime, which occupies only about one-fifth of the length of the novel, and his Punishment, which nearly occupies the novel’s entirety; with these proportions themselves giving us an idea of the many-fold burden of consequences for actions, as well as foreshadowing what is to come. And this rationalization runs deep. It isn’t until later, that we learn of truer reasons for Raskolnikov’s action, beginning with the discovery of an article he was able to have published while still enrolled in school, and ending with a true confession of his deepest motives to Sonya, to be discussed later.

This article that he wrote sometime before the crime, “On Crime,” reveals deeper rationale for his decision to commit the murder: and that is that he does it as a way to become something more than he is; to break down the cultural and religious structures around him, and more than that to supersede them; to rise above his fellow man as a type of “superman” or Napoleon, as he puts it, becoming someone who is able to “step over” the line which divides who is ordinary and who is great, a line that’s substance consists of rules for the hoi polloi only; ultimately inferring this idea – which, from what I understand was prevalent in Russia during the mid 1800’s – that the best way to view the world is through the lens of nihilism, which employs utilitarianism – the tenet which proposes that actions should be considered just insofar as they help the greatest number of people overall, and where acts of evil may be balanced properly, without the need for consequence, in the face of equal or greater acts of righteousness, especially if that person can prove themselves of some sort of higher value – as a central axiom. Pulling back to a macroscopic view of the novel, this sense that Dostoevsky had to instill within his characters arguments for what at the time was – and still in some sense very well are – contemporary issues, and eternal ideological and philosophical battlegrounds, rather than thrusting his own opinions through the narrator, is something I found to be brilliant and endearing, not only for the sake of keeping the author’s own bias more subdued than would otherwise be the case, but also just as a means to see what happens; to let the characters in the story have the fight, leaving both author and reader alike to extrapolate what hypotheses or conclusions they may as a consequence. In this regard, other characters – including Raskolnikov’s friend, Razumikhin, and state magistrate, Porfiry Petrovich – have the chance to debate with the nihilistic ideology of Raskolnikov after interacting with “On Crime.” This provides depth to contemporary discourse, without reeking of contrivance, and also allows us to see Raskolnikov argue for himself also, even though what he, ‘himself’, stands for is ultimately not clear; not for the reader but also seemingly not for Raskolnikov, as even after deciding to commit the crime, Raskolnikov’s opinion on whether or not it was a just event osculates frequently throughout the novel. It is this osculation, in fact, which constitutes most of Raskolnikov’s early punishment and suffering, as even though it appears as if Raskolnikov has managed to get away with the crime in the domain of the broader world[2], his conscious will not allow such an event to be swept under the rug, or even allow Raskolnikov to continue to live his life unhindered by spiritual corruption, mental destabilization, or physical trauma – all three of which plague him constantly both during his initial contemplations and later fulfillment of the crime. Ultimately, these ideological battles and inward rationalizations do not provide Raskolnikov with the accurate prognostication needed to foretell the outcome of his own state of being after committing such an act; and thereby lies Raskolnikov’s fatal flaw, derived from his arrogance and naivete, where he is left blinded by an ideology which never fulfills its promise of return. Oh, but if only he had a predilection for listening to the great prognosticator within him, his conscious, which, despite his waking thoughts, was calling out to him in the form of dreams.

In what is one of several dream sequences observed by characters in the novel, Raskolnikov dreams himself a young spectator, holding the hand of his father, as the two of them watch a group of misfit boys pile into a carriage. The carriage master, no more than a youthful fool, whips a single mare solely responsible for pulling the carriage. Overburdened and unable to do more than struggle forward at a pathetic pace, the mare whimpers and suffers visibly as the cruel and drunken carriage master orders it to trudge on, whipping it forcefully, all the while calling for any and everyone around the town to pile into the carriage. Laughing and screaming hysterically, the carriage master turns brutal task master when he begins to beat the mare repeatedly after with much effort the beast finally collapses to the ground in exhaustion. Horrifically, a handful of other people from the crowd and the carriage find their own whips and join in on the beating of the poor mare until it finally dies. Young Raskolnikov, having witnessed this event in its entirety, rushes to the mare after its brutal death, kisses it, then turns to the carriage master brandishing his fists before he is stopped by his father. This is the reader’s first warning of the brutality to come, and had Raskolnikov payed heed to what his conscious was trying to communicate to him in his dream, he may have noticed, as we as readers do, that the reaction the young Raskolnikov had to the barbaric murder of the mare very much predicted what Raskolnikov’s ultimate reaction to his then theoretical crime would be – regret; and, therefore, repentance. A second dream of Raskolnikov’s, which very much enforces this idea, pits Raskolnikov in the act of once again murdering Alyona, except this time, when he strikes her atop the head with the same axe, she simply brandishes a smile and laughs uncontrollably instead of falling over dead. This all but confirms Raskolnikov’s suspicions to himself, as his subconscious relays his foolish inadequacy, as a man who thought that he could elevate himself above others by “stepping over” the moral boundaries all of his societal peers abide by (and for good reason). Again, through this tendency that he has to stubbornly ignore his conscious, I find Raskolnikov eminently relatable, to some degree, and it is no wonder: it is a rare individual who finds obeying their conscious to be anything but onerous (then again, perhaps this is only most common in individuals who are still relatively young and naïve, a trait which I share with Raskolnikov, but one in which you may not, dear reader; but I digress). Of course, just because a task is onerous, does not mean that it is impossible. The characters which have been placed around Raskolnikov, and specifically the ones which serve as foils to his character, provide examples of contrast with individuals who at the very least are able to combat the compelling desire that we all have to ignore our consciouses. The three most blatant examples of foils for Raskolnikov are his sister, Dunya, his best friend, Razumikhin, and his eventual wife, Sonya Marmeladov.

The first example of this contrast apparent to the reader is in the character Razumikhin. Razumikhin is also a student living within the same city as Raskolnikov. Unlike Raskolnikov, however, he has not bailed out of university for financial necessity nor wanton of a grand ideological narrative. There is also no reason to believe he has more financial support than Raskolnikov, as he also appears to be poor with no hint of endowment, instead supporting himself through the meager-paying work of translating for a small publisher. And while Razumikhin is even more naïve than Raskolnikov – having never once suspected Raskolnikov of so much as a dash of malevolence – he lacks the same venomous arrogance, whilst showing no signs of lower intelligence. Dunya, Raskolnikov’s sister, provides another example of similar contrast. This is because, as his sister, and, again, with no reason to believe that she is any more or less intelligent or attractive than her brother, Dunya comes from the same upbringing, whilst holds no apparent resentment towards the world around her. Even when she is given the choice to harm someone else – when she finds herself on the side of a gun pointing at a man who has locked her inside of a room against her will (arguably giving her a modicum of a reason to kill another, depending on one’s own stance on morality) – she is unable to do it, instead casting her tool with which to do so aside and letting fate take care of the rest[3]. Lastly, and this may be the most apparent example, presenting what may be Raskolnikov’s true foil, we have dearest Sonya, stepdaughter of the Marmeladovs. Sonya, who in the face of two useless parents, takes it upon herself to prostitute herself so that her family, including three young siblings, may eat, makes Raskolnikov look privileged and morally woeful in comparison. Recognizing this himself, Raskolnikov does his best to look out for Sonya, in what is perhaps his most genuine form of empathy. Despite this – or perhaps, in fact, in spite of this; for early on Raskolnikov identifies Sonya as the sole individual whom may be able to help him redeem himself – Raskolnikov obsessively pushes Sonya to read a verse from the bible involving the story of Lazarus, as a redemption for himself, but also for Sonya, projecting as he does his misdeeds unto her and equating his murderous acts with her soiling of her sexuality for the sake of providing for her family. The story of Lazarus is a story which promises resurrection of the individual as Jesus Christ resurrected Lazarus from the dead. In this way, Raskolnikov probes, a part of him reaching out ever fervently for the means of the rebirth of his soul, despite his hitherto forthright determination to escape his guilt and conviction, looking for proof of Sonya’s moral purity, which he already suspects, despite his accusations, to which she responds by admitting herself a sinner, asking God for forgiveness, and later by bestowing upon Raskolnikov one of her two precious necklace and crosses. And it is in a kindred vein to these three examples of contrast in which the final contrast is made in small part by every character in the novel; for in some sense this novel represents the journey of one man as he isolates himself from a community he loathes to subordinate himself to; of a man who wishes to supersede his place in the world and become a “superman”; of a man who places his individual ideology above the morality of his peers; and it is in this way that the ordinary character, subservient to religion, provides contrast for the atheist who mocks them, not with critique, but with arrogance.

…

…And that ought to be enough for now.

TLDR: 10/10 would recommend.

Thanks for reading,

- Alex

[1] The epilogue, from what I’ve observed from others’ critiques, seems to be controversial in that some believe the novel stands alone better without it. It is not until the epilogue – well into the sentence of punishment by the state for his crimes – that Raskolnikov finally gives up his idea that, essentially, ‘the only thing he did wrong was improperly rob the old lady and to then fall emotionally and mentally apart afterwards’; where, too, he finally gives up his last bit of arrogance and outward loathing for the world and his circumstances, and accepts responsibility for his actions, likely brought on by the outwardly visible sacrifices made by his then wife, Sonya, who he looks to for repentance. However, critics argue that without the epilogue, we would simply be left to assume on our own that Raskolnikov finally gave in to repentance when the novel ended with his confession, and that that would be preferable to what is otherwise a heavy-handed ending, condensed as it is compared to the rest of the novel. This would make sense and likely be fitting enough of an ending. However, in defense of the epilogue, without it, a reader’s main takeaway from the story might be only, ‘do not underestimate how much opposing your conscious will degenerate your soul,’ while with the epilogue, the takeaway is more likely to also include something along the lines of, ‘beware denigrating religion and the multitude of cultures which it has produced, for without the ability to hold yourself accountable for your own deeds and also to be redeemed, there is nothing standing between you and self-destruction and misery, to say nothing of the destruction and misery of those around you,’ which of course is realized by the death of Raskolnikov’s mother as well as the sickening of himself and his wife, as a consequence of his refusal to actually accept his punishment and repent even after his confession (which without acceptance of responsibility is still only a selfish act), outlined in the two chapters proceeding the end of the novel. So if I’d had the genius necessary to write this story, I’d also have looked to include an epilogue to ensure that the totality of my characters’ lessons would also be realized by the reader, for whatever that’s worth.

[2] While Raskolnikov does seem to commit the crime of murder and robbery without getting caught, this does not mean that things go according to plan; in fact, far from it: while Raskolnikov manages to murder Alyona, he very poorly robs her – leaving behind a large bundle of cash she had under her bed, which he missed due to his state of unanticipated frenzy. He also ends up killing Alyona’s younger sister, Lizaveta, when she arrives immediately following the murder, in an act of pure self-perseverance, which just goes to show: when you take the fate of the world into your own hands, when you ‘step over’ the boundaries that your culture (or God; whichever) has deemed should not be crossed – when you arrogantly and naively take the fabric and truth of the universe into your own hands – you do not know what it is you are doing; you do not know what the consequences of your actions will be. It isn’t made clear the degree to which the killing of Lizaveta changed the outcome for Raskolnikov’s soul. Perhaps committing one crime constitutes the same moral weight as committing two crimes simultaneously, but also perhaps it was everything; the one factor unaccounted for which destroyed his evaluation of just outcomes and, having done so, his resolve.

[3] Here is a specific instance in which Dostoevsky’s propensity to pit ideas against each other in the form of characters playing out their practicalities in a real-world context comes to bear. This specific battle, represented by the juxtaposition of the aforementioned scene with Raskolnikov’s murdering of the two women, pits morality against ideology, while leaving a clear winner: for it is one which leads to the eradication of two lives and the degradation of more than one soul, and it is another which leads to the absolution of a dangerous conflict. These two specifically – morality and ideology – clash frequently during the novel’s entirety, with morality often taking its microcosmic form of religion.

#fyodor dostoevsky #crime&punishment #essays #novel analysis #classics

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leg-grestrade · 3 years ago

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To the Anon who Sent in the 4-Part Ask

I can’t post that here. I have a policy that I don’t post any anonymous asks that have people’s names or social media handles in it. I did that one time and the person wasn’t even guilty of what they were being accused of.

I will answer your question generally, though.

Yeah, I’m aware of the racism, and particularly the recent stuff, that’s happened since it affected a very good friend of mine. It’s fucking disgusting and it needs to stop. Racists have no place in a fandom that is entirely about POC. There is not a single white person in Avatar The Last Airbender, so how the fuck are you going to assert white supremacy? I’m Japanese-American. It was a real fucking amazement to have ATLA when I was a kid and see a cartoon about Asian cultures that wasn’t anime. Was it perfect? No. Would I have preferred it to have been conceptualized by people other than white, cishet men? Ultimately, yes. But it was still groundbreaking in what it achieved and it took risks. Modeling the Fire Nation in part off Imperial Japan (and I know there are other influences there, so get off my ass, all your Fire Nation stans) took guts.

A lot of people in the U.S. don’t always know that before the end of WWII, Japan was a huge-ass colonizing force, and it took guts to depict that in a cartoon. It’s one of the reasons I fucking loathe Zuko. Why should a colonist-sympathizer get a happy ending? Fuck him. Did he dismantle the Fire Nation power structure? No. He put the stupid fucking Fire Lord comb in his hair and continued the same structure that was out there oppressing people. Asshole.

Anyway, so yeah, ATLA meant a lot to me as a weirdo Asian kid and it means even more to me now that I’m a grown woman, and particularly in this time period where POC, especially Black people and Asians, are routinely brutalized.

Yes, there needs to be better accountability in this fandom. People need to stop fucking hiding their heads in the sand because they might like a specific person’s fic or art or because they ship the same thing. The people who called my friend fucking racial slurs are Kataang shippers, but fuck them. I don’t give a fuck. If you’re that kind of trashcan, we don’t need you in our fandom.

People who deny that racism exists in this fandom? Also fuck the fuck out of you. One of my closest friends was told to be quiet because she was Black and “Black people opinions don’t matter.” Some absolute fucking dumbass went on and on about how Zuko looks “more Asian” than Aang and that’s why Zutara is more popular, because Zuko looks like a Korean idol, when he’s modeled off a Japanese dude of the Imperial period. There’s a lot of fucking bullshit that POC have to deal with in this fandom, and people still endure that shit because we fucking love ATLA. It means a lot to many of us. We don’t want to be pushed out of a fandom that is fucking ours.

But anon, you’re right. Kataang fandom has to take out its fucking trash. It has to stop hiding and lying that there’s no problem. And the people who have juice enough to speak up have to stop acting like it’s not their issue. It’s time for every single bit of the bullshit to stop.

#racism #long post #anti-Zuko

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lucyreviewcy · 4 years ago

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The Three Three Musketeers (or Where The F*ck Did All The Stupid Hats Go)

I read The Three Musketeers and then I watched the 1973, 1993 and 2011 adaptations. Which one wins tho?

Adaptation is a fascinating concept, especially of texts which are frequently adapted or parodied. After I rewatched the 2005 Pride and Prejudice I was reminded how weirdly divisive the two dominant adaptations of that book are. A lot of people consider the 2005 to be an inferior betrayal of the 1990s BBC version. I actually prefer the 2005 because I think Matthew McFadyen’s Mr Darcy is a wonderfully complex character. McFadyen imbues Darcy with social awkwardness and anxiety, which Lizzie misinterprets as his pride. To overcome the “Lizzie doesn’t fancy him ‘til she sees his house” debate, director Joe Wright includes a moment where Lizzie glimpses Darcy alone with his sister. He’s comfortable, his body language is completely different, and he’s smiling broadly. That moment really sold me on the entire film because it made Darcy a full character and was a really simple addition that rounded out the story. I still like the 90s version but for me, it’s the 2005 that takes first place. (Although an honourable mention for Pride and Prejudice and Zombies because it is an excellent romp.)

Look: adaptation is always a complicated topic. You can’t untangle one adaptation from another, because it’s pretty rare that somebody adapting a classic text like Pride and Prejudice or The Three Musketeers is not already familiar with existing adaptations. The most recent adaptation of any classic text is not simply an adaptation of that text, but the next step in a flow chart that includes all the previous adaptations and the cultural context of the newly created product. These three adaptations of Dumas’ 1844 novel are all texturally and stylistically very different, and two of them diverge significantly from the original text. What I found truly fascinating was what all of them had in common, and what each new era (these were made at around 20 year intervals) decides to add or remove. What do all these movies agree are the essential parts of the story, and what are some adaptations more squeamish about including from Dumas’ original narrative?

Before we dive in, no I have not seen every single adaptation of the story, that would be a dissertation level of research and I do actually have things to do right now (although, I will admit...not many.) I’m looking at these three Hollywood adaptations because they all had star studded casts (for the era they were made in), they’re all English language, and (crucially) they were all easily available on the internet for me to stream.

What are the essential ingredients of a Three Musketeers adaptation?

Firstly, there should be at least three musketeers. Secondly, D’Artagnan (Michael York 1973, Chris O’Donnell 1993, Logan Lerman 2011) should be a young upstart who is introduced part way through a sword fight. He should also have silly hair. He is also consistently introduced to the musketeers in all three films by challenging them each individually to duels at noon, one o’clock and two o’clock.

The films all maintained some elements of the original “Queen’s Diamonds” storyline, and featured the Queen, Milady and Constance. The characterisation of these three varied a lot.

Our villains in each case are invariably the Cardinal, his pal Rochefort (who always has an eyepatch, although this trope is not in the book and is actually attributable to the way Christopher Lee is styled in the 1973 film), and Milady de Winter. Satisfyingly, at least two of the villains usually wear red because they’re bad. Red is for bad.

All three are very swashbuckling in tone, have elements of physical comedy, and two of them include one of the three valet characters Dumas wrote into the original story, Planchet (1973 Roy Kinnear, 2011 James “ugh why” Corden). They also all bear the generic markings of the movies made during the same era, our 70s D’Artagnan feels like a prototype Luke Skywalker. The 90s version features a random martial arts performer. The 2011 version has CGI and James Corden in equal measure (read: far too much of both.)

What are the big differences?

I’m going to divide this category into three main segments: character, story and style. My own three musketeers, the three musketeers of movie making.

Character

D’Artagnan

D’artagnan in the book comes across as a pretty comical figure. He’s nineteen and there’s something satisfying about how similar Dumas’ caricature of a nineteen year old is to a modern character of the same age. He’s overconfident, has a simplistic but concrete set of morals, and falls in love with every woman he sees. If D’Artagnan were a 2021 character, he’d really hate The Last Jedi, is what I’m saying. He’d definitely have a tumblr blog, probably a lot like this one, but perhaps a scooch more earnest. He really loved The Lighthouse but he can’t explain why. Isn’t it nice to know that awkward nineteen year olds have been pretty much the same for the last three hundred years at least?

In all three films he’s kind of irritating, but at least in the 1973 this feels deliberate. This version has a certain “Carry On Musketeering” quality to it and D’Artagnan is your pantomime principal, he’s extremely naïve and he takes himself very seriously. This is the closest D’Artagnan to the book, and the 1973 is, in general, the film which adheres most faithfully to that source material.

The 1993, which is (spoiler alert) my least favourite adaptation, has Chris O’Donnell as the least likeable D’Artagnan I’ve come across. I’ve only seen O’Donnell in one other thing, the Al Pacino movie Scent of a Woman. He’s bearable in that because he’s opposite Al Pacino, and so his wide-eyed innocence makes sense as a contrast to Pacino’s aged hoo-ah cynicism. Rather than being introduced in a practice sword fight with his father, as in the other two films, D’Artagnan is fighting the brother of an ex-lover. This captures the problem with the film in general: this adaptation wants D’Artagnan to be cool. He is not. The comedy of the 1973, and indeed the book, comes from D’Artagnan being deeply uncool, and from his blind idolisation of the deeply flawed Musketeers who actually are cool, but not necessarily heroic, or even good people. Their moral greyness contrasts with D’Artagnan’s defined sense of right and wrong, but he still considers them to be role models and heroes.

2011′s version also suffers from “Cool D’Artagnan” syndrome, with the added annoyance of that most Marvel of tropes: the quip. One of the real issues with this film is that the dialogue has a lot of forced quippery that doesn’t quite land, and the editing slows the pace of the entire film. D’Artagnan’s first interaction with Constance is a bad attempt at wit which Constance points out isn’t very funny. The problem is that Constance has no personality so there’s no real indication that she’s in any position to judge his level of wit. She’s just vague, blonde and there: three characteristics which describe an entire pantheon of badly written female characters throughout the ages. Cool D’Artagnan also means that Constance should be additionally cool, because in the book, Constance is older than, smarter than and over-all more in charge than D’Artagnan.

Female Characters

Let’s go into this with an open mind that understands all these films were made in the sociological context of their decade. The 1973 version would absolutely not be made in the same way now. Constance is a clumsy cartoon character who is forever falling over and accidentally sticking her breasts out. This is not the character from the books, but does at least leave an impression on the viewer one way or another.

In contrast, the 1993 has a Constance so forgettable I literally cannot picture her. I think she holds D’Artagnan’s hand at the end. That’s all I can say on the subject.

The 2011 has Gabriella Wilde in the role, and absolutely wastes her. Anyone who’s seen her in Poldark knows that she can do sharp-tongued beautiful wit-princess with ease. It’s the writing of this film that lets her down, in general, that’s the problem with it. The storyline and design are great, but the actual dialogue lacks the pace and bite that a quip-ridden star vehicle needs. This Constance is given simultaneously more and less to do than the Constance of the original book, who demonstrates at every turn the superiority of her intellect over D’Artagnan, but doesn’t get to pretend to be a Musketeer and whip her hat off to show her flowing golden hair like she does in the 2011.

The best character, for my money, in The Three Musketeers is Milady de Winter. Even Dumas got so obsessed with her that there are full chapters of the book written from pretty much her perspective. In the book, she’s described as a terrifying genius with powers of persuasion so potent that any jailor she speaks to must be instantly replaced. My favourite Milady is absolutely Faye Dunaway from 1973. She’s ferocious and beautiful and ruthless, but potentially looks even better because the portrayals in the other films are so very bad.

The 1993 version has your typical blonde 90s baddie woman (Rebecca De Mornay), she wouldn’t look out of place as a scary girlfriend in an episode of Friends or Frasier. 2011 boasts Milla Jovovich who presents us a much more physical version of the character, even doing an awkwardly shoe-horned anachronistic hall of lasers a la Entrapment except instead of lasers its really thin pieces of glass? The “yeah but it looks cool” attitude to anachronism in this film is what makes it fun, and Jovovich’s Milady isn’t awful, she’s just let down by a plot point that she shares with 1993 Milady. Both these adaptations get really hooked on the fact that Athos used to be married to Milady at one time (conveniently leaving out the less justifiable character point that Athos TRIED TO HANG HER when he found out she had been branded as a thief - doesn’t wash so well with the modern audiences, I think.) Rather than hating/fearing Milady, the two modern adaptations suggest that Athos is still in love with her and pines for her. This detracts from Athos’ character just as much as it detracts from Milady’s. Interestingly, and I don’t know where this came from (if it was in the book I definitely missed it), both films feature a confrontation between the two where Athos points a gun at Milady but she pre-empts him by throwing herself off a cliff (or in the 2011, an air-ship.) I think both these versions were concerned that Milady was an anti-feminist character because she’s so wantonly evil, but I disagree. Equality means it is absolutely possible for Milady to be thoroughly evil and hated by the musketeers just as much as they hate Rochefort and the Cardinal. If you want to sort out the gender issues with this story, round Constance out and give her proper dialogue, don’t make Milady go weak at the knees because of whiny Athos (both Athos characters are exceedingly whiny, 1973 Athos is just...mashed).

The Musketeers

These guys are pretty important to get right in a film called The Three Musketeers. They have to be flawed, funny but kind of cool. Richard Chamberlain is an absolute dish in the 1973 version, capturing all those qualities in one. Is it clear which version is my favourite yet?

Athos is played variously by a totally hammered Oliver Reed (1973), a ginger-bearded Kiefer Sutherland (1993) and a badly bewigged Matthew McFadyen (2011). They all have in common the role of being the most level-headed character, but the focus on the relationship between Athos and Milady in the 93 and 11 editions undermines this a lot. Athos should be cool and aloof, instead of mooning over Milady the entire time. The 2011 gives Athos some painfully “edgy” lines like “I believe in this (points at wine) this (flicks coin) and this (stabs coin with knife.)...” which McFadyen ( once oh so perfect as Mr Darcy) doesn’t quite pull off.

Porthos seems to be the musketeer who is the most different between interpretations. A foppish dandy in the 1973, a pirate (!?!) in the 1993, and then just...large in 2011. I think the mistake made in the 2011 is that large alone does not a personality make. There are hints at Porthos’ characterisation from the book: his dependence on rich women for money and his love of fine clothing, but these are only included as part of his introduction and never crop up again through the rest of the film. Pirate Porthos in 1993 is... you know what, fine, you guys were clearly throwing everything at the wall and seeing what stuck.

Aramis is our dishy Richard Chamberlain in 1973, followed by womanising Charlie Sheen in 1993 and then strikingly suave Luke Evans in 2011. I actually didn’t mind Luke Evans’ interpretation, his dialogue is forgettable but his sleek charm stuck in my head. For some reason, this version has Aramis working as a parking attendant for horses, it worked for me as a fun A Knight’s Tale-esque bit of anachronistic character development. Charlie Sheen has never managed to appear likable or attractive to me and so his role in the 1993 falls flat. In fact, in that edition there’s not much distinction between the musketeers as characters and they’re all just very 90s and American. As anyone who’s read this blog before will expect, I think Keanu Reeves as Aramis would have really upped this film’s game. In fact, Keanu Reeves as Aramis, Brad Pitt as Athos and Will Smith as Porthos could have been the ultimate 90s adaptation, throw in DiCaprio as D’Artagnan and Roger Allam as the Cardinal and I’m fully sold.

The King and Queen

All three films try and do the “Queen’s Diamonds” storyline, but only the 1973 actually includes the Queen’s affair with Buckingham. The queen, played by Geraldine Chaplin, is a tragic romantic figure (she doesn’t have a tonne to do besides being wistful and sighing over Lord Buckingham). The king is played as a frivolous idiot by Jean-Pierre Cassel (voice dubbed by Richard Briers). He doesn’t really think of the queen as a person, more as a possession that he doesn’t want Buckingham to have.

In the 1993 version, Buckingham doesn’t really feature, and it’s the queen’s refusal to get off with the Cardinal that prompts his fury at her. The book does touch on the Cardinal’s desire for the queen, but it’s placed front and centre in 1993. This is definitely the boobsiest version, with quite a lot of corsetry on show and a cardinal who hits on literally all the women. The king is shown as a stroppy teenage boy under the thumb of the cardinal, who just wants to ask the queen to the dance but doesn’t have the nerve. The king is, essentially, a Fall Out Boy lyric.

The 2011 also seems to be really squeamish about the idea of the queen having an extramarital affair. It paints Buckingham (played with excellent wig and aplomb by Orlando Bloom) as a stylish villain, who’s advances the queen has rejected. Like the 1993 version, the King is a feckless youth rendered speechless by the presence of his wife. Both these versions want the King and Queen to be happy together, while the 1973 doesn’t give a fuck.

The Cardinal and his Cronies

The cardinal is kind of universally an evil creepy guy. One of the characters from the 1973 version who actually left the least impression on me, played by Charlton Heston. I think he’s overshadowed in my recollection by cartoonishly evil Christopher Lee as Rochefort. Lee’s Rochefort is dark, mysterious and wonderfully bad, and so influential that all other incarnations’ design is based on him. The 1993 version had truly over the top Michael Wincott as a character I could honestly refer to as Darth Rochefort from the way he’s framed, while 2011 boasts a chronically underused Mads Mikkelsen in the role.

Cardinal-wise, 1993 was my favourite with Tim Curry in all his ecclesiastical splendour. It was disappointing that everything about this film, including the Cardinal’s sexual harassment of every single female character, really didn’t work for me. Tim Curry is a natural choice for this role and gives it his campy all.

2011 has not one but two trendy bond villain actors, with Mikkelsen working alongside Christoph Waltz who was...just kind of fine. I was really excited when he appeared but he didn’t really push the character far enough and left me cold.

Story

The story is where the different adaptations diverge most completely. 1973 follows the plot of the novel, D’Artagnan comes to Paris, befriends the Musketeers and becomes embroiled in a plot by the Cardinal to expose the Queen’s affair with Buckingham through the theft of two diamond studs. D’Artagnan, aided partially by the musketeers, must travel to London to retrieve the set of twelve studs gifted by the King to the Queen, and by the Queen to Buckingham. He does so, the plot is foiled, he’s made into a musketeer! Hurrah, tankards all round.

The 1993 version drops D’Artagnan into the story just as the Cardinal has disbanded the Musketeers. I found the plot of this one really hard to follow and I think at some point D’Artagnan ended up in the Bastille? There was this whole plot point about how Rochefort had killed D’Artagnan’s father. In the original, and in the 1973 version, D’Artagnan’s entire beef with Rochefort is rooted in a joke Rochefort makes about D’Artagnan’s horse. I guess for the producers of this one, a horse insult is not enough motivation for a lifelong grudge. That is really the problem with the entire film, it forgets that the story as told by Dumas is set in a world where men duel over such petty things as “criticising one’s horse”, “blocking one’s journey down a staircase” and “accusing one of having dropped a lady’s handkerchief.” The colour palette and styling are very 90s “fun fun fun”, but the portrayal of the cardinal and the endless angst about D’Artagnan’s father really dampen the mood.

The 2011 version, this is where the shit really hits the fan. We meet our musketeers as they collaborate with Milady to steal the blueprints for a flying ship (it’s like a piratecore zeppelin). Milady betrays them and gives the plans to Buckingham, they all become jaded and unemployed. D’Artagnan arrives on the scene (his American accent explained by the fact that he’s from a different part of France) and befriends the Musketeers. The cardinal tries to frame the queen for infidelity by having Milady steal her diamonds to hide them in Buckingham’s safe at the tower of London. Something something Constance, something something help me D’Artagnan you’re my only hope. MASSIVE AIRSHIP BATTLE. The king and queen have a dance. James Corden cracks wise.

It seems like as time has passed, producers, writers and directors have felt compelled to embellish the story. I think, specifically in the case of the two later versions, this is because they wanted the films to resemble the big successes of the period. Everybody knows no Disney hero can be in possession of both parents, so D’Artagnan is out to avenge his father like Simba or Luke Skywalker. In the 2011 version, the plot is overblown and overcomplicated in what seems like an attempt to replicate the success of both the Sherlock Holmes and Pirates of the Caribbean franchises. Remember the plot of Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End? No, me neither.

Style

The style of these films grows increasingly wild along with the plots as time passes. The 1973 features a lot of slapstick comedy, some of which really made me cackle, and some of which was cringeworthily sexist (Constance’s boobs through the window of a litter.) That’s the 70s though! I love The Godfather but Diane Keaton’s character is unbelivably dull and annoying. Star Wars features a pretty good female character but she does end up in that bikini. The 70s seems to be a time of movies that were great except for their occasional headlong dive into misogyny. That doesn’t mean the entire movie is bad, it just means it’s suffering from the consequences of being made in the 70s. There were other consequences of this, I doubt many modern productions could get away with physically injuring so many of it’s cast members. From a glance down the IMDB trivia page, this film yielded a higher casualties to cast ratio than the My Chemical Romance Famous Last Words music video, and that’s a hard figure to top.

The 1993 version is a Disney feature and suffers from having a thin sheen (not Charlie in this instance) of “Disney Original Movie” pasted over every scene. It looks like The Parent Trap might be filming in the adjacent studio a lot of the time. The vibrancy of the colours makes the costumes look unrealistic, while the blandness of the female characters means this movie ends up a bit of a bland bro-fest. Also occasionally the sexual and violent moments really jar with the overall tone making it an uneven watch. One minute it’s Charlie Sheen cracking jokes about trying to get off with someone’s wife, the next minute you see Milady throw herself off a cliff and land on the rocks. Weird choices all round.

The 2011 version, as I’ve already mentioned, was trying to borrow its style from the success of Sherlock Holmes and Pirates of the Caribbean, with a little Ocean’s 11 thrown in. The soundtrack flips between not quite a Hans Zimmer score and not quite that other Hans Zimmer score, and after the success of Stardust it ends with a Take That song (for it to match up to the story it should have been Take That feat. Harry styles imho). Visually, there’s some fantastic travel by mapping going on, there’s far too much CGI (one of my friends pointed out that the canal in Venice seemed to be full of Flubber). Everyone is dressed in black leather, and there are not enough big hats at all. One of the best things about Musketeers films is that they’re an excuse for ridiculous hats, and in a film with a quite frankly insane visual style, I’m surprised the hats didn’t make it through. The cast, unfortunately, really lack chemistry which means the humorous dialogue is either stilted or James Corden, and the editing is just very strange. It’s one of those films that feels about as disjointed as an early morning dream, the one where you dream you’ve woken up, gotten dressed and fed the cat, but you actually are still in bed.

Conclusion

Adaptations focus on different things depending on the context they were created in. The 2005 Pride and Prejudice is deliberately “grittier” than its 1990s predecessor, at a stage when “grit” was everywhere (The Bourne Identity, Spooks, Constantine). The Musketeers adaptations demonstrate exactly the same thing: what people wanted in the 70s was bawdy comedy and slapstick with a likeable idiot hero, the 90s clearly called for... Charlie Sheen and bright colours, and the 2010s just want too much of everything and a soundtrack with lots of banging and crashing. The more modern adaptations simplified the female characters (although the 1973 version definitely is guilty of oversimplifying Constance) while over-complicating the plot. There’s a lot of embellishment going on in the 2011 version that suggests the film wasn’t very sure of itself, it pulls its plot punches while simultaneously blindly flailing its stylistic fists.

The film that works the best for me will always be the 1973 because it’s pretty straight down the line. Musketeers are good, Milady is evil, falling over is funny and the King’s an idiot. The later adaptations seem to be trying to fix problems with the story that the 1973 version just lets fly. The overcorrection of Milady and the under characterisation of Constance is the perfect example of this. If you want your Musketeers adaptation to be more feminist, don’t weaken Milady, strengthen Constance. Sometimes a competent female character is all that we need. A Constance who is like Florence Cassel from Death in Paradise or Ahn Young-yi from Misaeng could really pack a punch.

I adored the energy of the 2011 adaptation, I loved how madcap it was, I loved how it threw historical accuracy to the wind. I thought the king was adorable, and I really enjoyed seeing Orlando Bloom hamming it up as Buckingham. I was genuinely sad that the sequel the ending sets up for never came, because once they got out of the sticky dialogue and into the explosions, the film was great fun. It was a beautiful disaster that never quite came together, but I really enjoyed watching it. I love films that have a sense of wild chaos, some more successful examples are The Devil’s Advocate, Blow Dry and Lego Batman. I think the spirit of going all out on everything can sometimes result in the best cinematic experience, it’s just a shame the script wasn’t really up to muster for 2011 Musketeers.

I’m excited to see what the next big budget Musketeers adaptation brings, even if I’m going to have to wait another ten years to see it. I hope it’s directed by Chad Stahelski, that’d really float my boat (through the sky, like a zeppelin.)

#ThreeMusketeers #Three Musketeers #Adaptation #Movies #Film #The Three Musketeers

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merflk · 4 years ago

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if your cascade, ocean wave blues come.

main pairing: ginny weasley x blaise zabini background pairings: neville longbottom x astoria greengrass, percy weasley x pansy parkinson, oliver wood x marcus flint words: 6021 link: ao3 soundtrack: peace - taylor swift

Every wedding she’s attended since the war reminds her of Bill and Fleur’s.

She can’t help it. No matter the venue, or the people getting married, or the guests attending, every single time she’s pulled back into that tent in her parents’ backyard.

It was bad the first few times. The war sparked a lot of tragedy, but the war ending made people feel like taking the leap together. In the past seven years, she’s been to thirteen weddings total. The first time, it was like she was transported back into the war in the middle of the ceremony. She had a quiet panic attack that no one noticed and, eventually, got home absolutely plastered. After that happened a second time, she realised that it was a wedding thing. So for a little bit she attended none.

That didn’t last very long. Hard to get to wedding number fourteen otherwise.

The thing that saved her was her camera. As it turned out, taking pictures was a ton of fun, and she was kind of good at it. At first, it was because she ignored every single ‘rule’ photography had. She paid next to no attention to classic perspective and lighting. She just went ahead and snapped. People said it was artistic. That made her feel a little proud, so she kept taking them.

At some point, the camera became an extension of herself. And she became a photographer.

Now, wedding photography is like a little treat. She only does it for friends and family, not as an actual career choice, choosing to stick to other subjects for that. When Neville asked if she would take the pictures for his wedding to Astoria, she agreed to it immediately. They’re having a spring wedding, full of flowers and sunshine, and now that she’s standing here, looking around, she feels free from Bill and Fleur’s wedding for the first time.

Ginny smiles and snaps a picture of Harry, Ron and Hermione, who are laughing loudly near the buffet. The wedding is outside, in the large garden of the Greengrass estate. As far as Ginny knows, it took a lot of convincing to get Astoria’s parents on board with her marrying Neville, but with the help of her sister Daphne (who was a grade A politician) they had managed to figure something out.

The gardens are huge, and the wedding is smack in the middle of them, so the house seems pretty far away from here. Even so, she can still make out its luxurious white exterior. Neville is marrying into big money. But…

Ginny glances over at Neville and Astoria, who are quietly dancing in the middle of the dance floor, their foreheads pressed together. The hem of Astoria’s dress is slightly smudged with mud, and she has three flowers in her hair. It’s like they’re their own little sun with the amount of love and happiness radiating from them. The other dancing couples orbit them, basking in their light.

She takes a picture.

Even if Astoria’s parents never accepted Neville, even if they had disowned their daughter like they’d originally threatened to do, neither of them would have wavered. They would have had a tiny wedding somewhere in a forest, and Ginny would have taken the exact same picture there.

Damn, love is kind of beautiful.

Thinking of Neville and Astoria as the sun puts the wedding in a different light, though. Ginny looks around carefully, looking at the way that groups of people move together through the space. Although this wedding is one between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, that mixing of houses doesn’t extend to the party guests. Now that she’s looking for it, Ginny notices the way that there are clusters of isolated guests spread out. A couple of former Slytherins here, a few former Gryffindors there. There are two or three places where the houses meet, and of course there are people of all houses here. Hannah Abbott is chatting with Romilda Vane. Padma Patil is having a very playful conversation with George. Pansy Parkinson says something to Percy as she steals his glass of champagne right from his hands. But, afterwards, they move towards their own group of people – Percy to Fred and Angelina, Pansy to Daphne and Blaise Zabini.

When Ginny follows her with her gaze, her eyes land on Zabini for a moment, and she catches him looking back at her. Perhaps it would be more fair to say that he catches her looking at him. As a reflex, finding the perfect excuse, Ginny lifts up her camera and takes a picture of the three of them from a distance.

When she looks at the screen briefly to check the photo, she notices that Blaise is smiling in it, looking straight into the camera. He looks so good that she wonders if that was his reflex – put on the model face. He probably has modelled for something or other, right? She thinks she heard that rumour somewhere at some point. That his parents live in Italy and he’s done some modelling there after the war. No, wait – just his mom. She’s notoriously remarried a bunch of times. Lady Zabini is a bad bitch.

“Did it come out well?”

Ginny jumps and almost drops her camera, like she’s been caught red-handed doing something embarrassing.

When she looks up, Blaise Zabini is right in front of her, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his perfectly-tailored suit and a smile on his face that tells her he knows exactly why she just almost jumped out of her skin.

Get it together, Ginny, she scolds herself. You’re the wedding photographer, for Merlin’s sake. You’re just doing your job. He can’t prove anything.

“Yeah, I got a good one,” she says with a polite smile, “Astoria expressly asked me to take some extra pictures of the friends and family today. I think she’s making an album.”

Blaise snorts, and his smile softens for a moment. “Sounds like her.”

His response piques her curiosity a little bit. “Are you close with the family?”

“I suppose.” He smiles at her, something sly that makes her feel like they’re sharing a secret. “We’re all pretty tight-knit.”

Ah. So he’s aware of it too, hm?

“I can tell.” Ginny looks around again. “People stick together.”

Blaise sighs. “People are obsessed with the comfort zone.” He scrutinises her face for a moment, and Ginny has to think of ice water to keep from getting flustered. This man has a very intense gaze.

Shark eyes, she thinks to herself.

“Not you, though, aren’t you?”

It’s supposed to be a compliment, she thinks, but it feels undeserved. “I’m not so sure,” she tells him honestly, “If that was really the case, maybe I wouldn’t be standing behind a screen the entire time.” She holds up her camera.

Blaise hums softly, a deep, warm sound. Unexpectedly, Ginny feels something inside of her light up.

“But you’re brave,” he presses, “With that, uh… Gryffindor spunk?”

She laughs, and he smiles like that was what he was angling for in the first place.

“I guess. At least I can be honest about it. Not sure if that’s the Gryffindor spunk, but well.”

“So maybe it’s the Weasley?”

She arches an eyebrow at him. “I’d like to think it’s the Ginny.”

He tilts his head. “Fair enough. It’s admirable, in any case.” He grins. “And kind of sexy.”

She laughs again, the flame inside of her glowing brighter. She wonders if that’s how love works – if a sun like Neville and Astoria makes all the other stars brighter too. Maybe she’s getting swept up in the atmosphere. But…

She looks over Blaise curiously. “Smooth,” she teases.

He’s still smiling at her, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “I tend to speak my mind.”

“I like that.”

“Good. Can I get you something to drink?”

She can’t help but laugh again. She likes how obvious he’s being about it. It’s bold.

“Sure,” she says, “But no alcohol. I’m on the job.”

“Ah, yes,” he grins, “We can’t have you distracted now, can we, miss Weasley?”

“Thank Merlin I have an iron will.”

He chuckles. “We’ll see about that.”

She stares straight back at him, issuing a challenge. “Don’t tempt me.”

***

The next wedding sucks.

And, no, it’s not because things didn’t work out between Blaise and her. That has nothing to do with it. It’s fine. She’s fine.

It’s not even like it lasted very long. They dated for three months, then were together for eight. That’s less than a year. Nothing to write home about.

Of course, that had been one of the biggest issues: home. She hadn’t expected her parents to be so against her dating Blaise. He continuously made a bad impression on them. It was in the way he talked, the way he walked, the things he did, the things he said… Blaise and her family just didn’t match.

She didn’t do much better with his family. Lady Zabini is an incredible woman in her own right, but she definitely can’t stand Ginny’s attitude.

But that should have been fine. If it were real, they could have worked around it. Instead, they just fell apart.

Maybe we don’t want the same things in life, was their conclusion, maybe we’re too different.

Now, almost a full year later, she can admit that maybe they are too similar. Both too stubborn for their own good. Both too fucking scared of all of it. The real commitment, the intimacy, the vulnerability. Maybe it wasn’t that it didn’t work, it was just that they weren’t…

They weren’t ready.

But how the fuck were they supposed to know that?

It doesn’t matter. It didn’t work out. It happens. It’s fine.

Ginny lifts up her camera and takes a picture of her parents, the biggest traitors in history, who are laughing and chatting with Pansy in her gorgeous white dress. Pansy managed to do what Blaise couldn’t: she completely won over the Weasleys, despite her Slytherin heritage.

It probably had something to do with Percy’s attitude as well. Percy saw the way her parents treated Blaise, and when he started dating Pansy he wouldn’t stand for that kind of behaviour. He refused to talk to them until they gave her a fair chance. Ginny remembers a family dinner which ended in a very uncomfortable screaming match. When it came down to it, Percy had screamed that it didn’t fucking matter whether Pansy was a bitch or not. She was his. And if they could accept him for who he was, they very well could except the girl he loved as well. And that was that.

That night, Ginny kept her mouth shut. She regrets that more than anything. But maybe the fact that her parents didn’t like Blaise was just the perfect excuse not to bring him home to them. Not to let him get that close.

Frustrated, Ginny grabs one of the nearby waiters and downs a flute of champagne. These days, she kinds of hates herself.

She can forgive herself for the shitshow that was her relationship with Blaise Zabini. She can forgive herself for her mistakes. She can even be proud of what she’s learned from the whole experience. She knows more about who she is and what she wants now than ever before.

She just can’t stand that she’s still so fucking sad about it.

She locks eyes with Blaise over the rim of her empty champagne flute and for a moment the world stops turning. They look at each other. He arches one of his perfect eyebrows, and she remembers the moment she told him that she doesn’t drink on the job like it happened three minutes ago. She flushes in shame.

But fuck him, honestly.

She represses the urge to flip him off, hopes she conveys the emotion with her gaze, and walks the fuck away.

She absolutely hates that they now move in the same circles more than they did before. Since Pansy and Percy got engaged, every party she’s been to has seen a number of Slytherins that she would have never been able to predict hanging out with. Moreover, they’re great. They’re fun. People are falling in love all over the place. It’s kind of beautiful. But it would be so nice to just not see Blaise for a little while.

He knows her better than she would like, so she knows he’s aware that she hasn’t been doing great since their break-up. Sure, she’s been going to therapy, which was about fucking time, and that’s been very helpful, and she’s been learning a lot about herself, but it’s all been so exhausting and it shows. It shows on her face, it shows in her art, it shows in the state of her relationships. She’s lost a bunch of friends rather suddenly, but she’s kept the important ones close-by (Luna has been an actual saint) and she thinks that’s fine for now. Weirdly, she’s grown pretty close to Percy through it all.

He’s a little bitch, of course, and doesn’t let her get away with anything, but he sticks around anyway. And that’s just how her brother is, she supposes. She’s pretty sure he’s really annoyed with her most of the time, but he’s there anyway. He picks her up for brunch. He responds to the memes she sends him. He lets her make one harsh comment about Blaise every few weeks, and if she tries to do more he tells her to stop deflecting and take some responsibility for her life. It stings, but it’s a sting she welcomes. She needs a Percy in her life.

Just one, though. That’s enough. And sometimes, she really needs a break.

She takes a picture of him now, standing with some of his friends near the back of the room. He has a good, solid smile on his face, one that makes him look like their dad, and he’s clearly enjoying himself. She’s happy for him. The ceremony went well. Pansy looks like a fucking dream. Everyone’s behaving themselves. She might actually be the biggest problem factor at the entire event, nursing her little grudges, and she feels like she’s done a decent job of keeping that under wraps.

She glances at Blaise again. He’s talking to a woman at the bar, and she hates him. She hates it. She hates this. She hates that she cares. The woman is gorgeous. Maybe she should walk over there and hit on her. That would be a double win – hot lady and sticking one to her ex.

She doesn’t like the bitterness of her own thoughts, and represses the itch to get more alcohol in her system. It’s her brother’s wedding. She’s not going to get smashed. He deserves better, and she’s definitely not going to give Blaise the satisfaction.

She points her camera at Percy again, but he’s already looking at her with a frown on his face, annoyance flashing across his features.

Ginny looks down in surprise, wondering if she spilled something on her dress or something, but she looks fine. Still, when she looks back up, Percy is stalking towards her.

He didn’t read her mind, did he? No. No, he can’t do that. He doesn’t have the… Can he do that?

“You’re doing that thing,” he accuses her when he reaches her.

“What thing? I have several things.”

They’ve done in depth analyses of all of them. Him, accusing her of being a brat. Her, impatiently explaining to him that some coping mechanisms and behavioural patterns aren’t pretty. All over a bottle of whiskey in the middle of the night.

She’d never imagined she would one day be the closest to Percy out of all of her brothers. But here they are.

Percy shoves his hands into his pockets. “The thing where you look like you’re trying to set someone on fire by sheer force of will.”

She is trying to set someone on fire by sheer force of will.

But she’s not going to admit that to him.

“Come on, you couldn’t pick out a look like that from all the way over there, that’s ridiculous. At most you saw me glaring a little bit.”

Percy doesn’t let up on his accusatory stare, so Ginny shows him the palms of her hands in defeat.

“Look, I’m trying, okay? I’m doing alright, aren’t I? I’m not bothering anyone. You’re the only one who picks up on these things. And you can’t tell me that you’re not having the time of your life. You’re practically glowing.”

He is. He looks healthier than he has in years. Pansy makes him wear fashionable glasses, and he has leaned into all the better aspects of himself since they got together. Now, having just married her, he looks proud and satisfied, like a cat in the sun.

“As you should, by the way.” Ginny nods her head in Pansy’s direction. “She looks like a dream.”

He follows her gaze. “She does, doesn’t she?”

Percy smiles like he has a secret. Ginny wants to shake him until he shares it. Instead, she focuses on how seeing him happy kind of makes her happy too.

She nudges him with her elbow. “I’m fine. I’m not setting anyone on fire. Go dance with Mrs Parkinson-Weasley over there.”

He looks back at her, but she can tell he’s already halfway to Pansy’s side. “Don’t set anyone on fire,” he warns her.

“Promise,” Ginny grins.

She doesn’t set anyone on fire after that. If she’s still thinking about it, no one else calls her out for it. She gets through the night, her brief chat with Percy fuelling her determination to be okay for him. This is not the time and place to wallow. Maybe the time for wallowing is pretty much over in general. Maybe it’s time for her to finally take the next step towards growth by letting go of some of this bitterness over that one failed relationship.

Perhaps she could meet someone new.

***

She probably would have been alright after that if it weren’t for Blaise motherfucking Zabini.

Initially, she’s off to a great start. By the end of Percy and Pansy’s wedding, she had taken one picture of Blaise, where he was smiling into the camera with his arm around Theo, and she’d given him a brief nod to let him know it turned out the way she knew he liked. He was nearly floored by the gesture, she’s pretty sure, but he nodded back. That was progress.

After that, it was almost like they could become friends. At the very least acquaintances. She had lost contact with most of their mutual friends at that point, but she ran into him when she wanted to show up for Percy. Percy had practically disappeared into Pansy’s friend group at that point. The only person he really stayed close with outside of them and his direct family was Oliver. Of course, it helped that Oliver and Marcus finally stopped bullshitting each other and admitted that their rivalry was perhaps more of a romantic-tension thing than anything else by that point.

But for Ginny it mostly meant that she spent a night every few weeks in the presence of Blaise and maybe six to ten other people. Pansy and Percy had moved after their wedding, but their new place was only slightly bigger than their former one, so there really was no avoiding each other on nights they hung out.

It helped with some of the lingering bitterness. But it also kept him in her orbit. And that just made it very clear that Blaise Zabini? He’s impossible to forget.

Every time she wasn’t annoyed with him, she liked everything that came out of his mouth. When they bantered, she felt alive. When he looked her up and down as she entered the room, she couldn’t keep herself from grinning.

She missed him.

That wasn’t new. She knew that she missed him. It didn’t mean anything. At least, it didn’t change anything. They didn’t work. She realised why. She missed him. She wasn’t falling for anyone new. The facts weren’t great, but not a threat in any way.

Except that some nights, when she was more sober than she would have liked to admit afterwards, that feeling of missing him crossed the line into exceptionally dangerous territory.

I want him, she’d admit to herself, I want him for myself again.

During nights like that, it was especially nice to have Oliver there. She could distract herself by bringing up Quidditch with Oliver and Marcus and then the night would fly by. In the end, they grew rather close.

So, yes, of course, when Oliver asked her to do the photography for their wedding, she happily agreed.

So here she is at another wedding.

Admittedly, she’s having a pretty great time. Oliver and Marcus decided to have their wedding on a small island off the coast of Scotland, underneath the wide open sky. There isn’t a theme, but, just like with Neville and Astoria’s wedding, Ginny manages to find something like a theme – freedom. Both men flew into the ceremony on their brooms. There are aerial artists at the reception. The air smells of salt and seaweed and a hearty wind has been blowing through the clusters of guests since the moment they stepped onto the island.

Some of the guests are complaining, running after hats or constantly brushing their hair out of their faces. But most of them are enjoying breathing a little deeper than normally, feeling the fresh ocean air fill up their lungs and making their minds expand beyond the walls they usually find themselves enclosed in.

The wind makes Ginny’s job a little harder, since it’s hard to catch people being photogenetic with hair in their faces, but she likes a challenge. Moreover, with conditions like these, the good shots she does take aren’t just good – they’re brilliant.

She’s caught Oliver and Marcus a couple of times, grinning brightly and holding hands. They fit each other so well that it perplexes her sometimes. Every time that happens, she feels her gaze wander, looking for the shark-eyed man who recalibrates her sense of gravity.

She tries not to. It’s just so hard not to indulge – Blaise looks like a Greek hero, briefly sequestered on some island or other while he is on his way back home to Athens. The ceremony was in the morning, at eleven, so the party is in the middle of the day. Although the sky isn’t as blue as it was this morning, instead turning a cloudy light-grey, the day is still warm and as wonderful as they could have hoped for. The island is rocks and weeds, mostly, so sand isn’t much of an issue, and since the island isn’t lived on, it’s like they’re out in a piece of wildness.

Blaise has taken off his jacket, like most of the men who are bothered by the heat and inspired by the free feeling on the island. Most of the women have taken their heels off and are walking around bare-foot. It’s like they’re all letting their hair down and taking a break from social conventions, even while politely asking after each other’s families and addressing people by their formal titles.

She catches someone teasingly calling Neville ‘professor’ and looks over to see him grinning at Hannah, who is holding Millicent’s hand. With a smile, Ginny brings up her camera and snaps a picture of them.

Then she returns her attention to Blaise.

He’s grinning with Draco and Adrian. Adrian and he are bare-footed already, and Draco is toeing of his shoes, leaning against Adrian to keep his balance. Marcus calls out a jab to them and Draco flips him off good-heartedly.

Blaise looks up and catches her gaze like he was expecting her to be looking at him.

“Gin!” he calls out, making her chest ache, “Please, this has to be memorialised!”

Ginny pushes through the pain and laughs, taking a photo of Draco stumbling around with one shoe and a stark white sock in his hand. Blaise lets out a cackle just as she takes it, and when she checks the picture her eyes are immediately drawn to the perfect, joyful expression on his face. No matter what he’s doing, she has never managed to take a bad picture of this stupidly photogenetic asshole.

The second she sees the picture, she knows she’s going to cherish it. Something about this feels right. She’s here with her friends and family, and everyone is happy, and the air is as fresh as the first day of the world.

She loves him, she realises. It’s all very simple suddenly. She loves him.

And, with that, everything doesn’t feel so right anymore. Because even though they’re all here, together, and Blaise is right there for her to smile at and touch, and she loves everyone, and she loves him, she isn’t with him. They’re just existing in the same space.

Tears blur her vision and she flinches. Panic shoots through her at the thought of everyone being able to see, so she whips her hair in front of her face with a nod and backs away from the scene, her fingers shaking. She needs more air.

Ginny walks briskly towards the edge of the party, where the people are more spread out and engaged in deep conversations. She finds a nice rock and sits down on it, pretending to look through the images on her camera while she tries to find her bearings.

Well fuck. This is just excessive, isn’t it? Love him? When the fuck did that happen?

Somewhere between spending a year in his arms and another year wanting him back, she guesses. Still, aren’t you supposed to notice when you start loving someone? She definitely didn’t start just now. So why hasn’t she noticed before?

Fuck. It doesn’t matter. It’s going to take a while for her to process this. The best thing she can do right now is gather herself up and get back to the party. She’s going to have to put this off.

Ah, crap, Percy is going to have a field day with this.

“Are you alright?”

Blaise is frowning down at her, his hands shoved into his pockets, looking wind-swept and perfect.

Of all the goddamn times for him to be considerate…

“Hm?” she says, frantically trying to get her erratic heartbeat under control.

He purses his lips. “You alright?” he repeats.

She forces a smile. “Yup. Lovely ceremony, didn’t you think?”

She couldn’t make it more obvious that she’s trying to change the subject, but if he’s in a considerate mood, then maybe-

“Cut the crap, Ginny.” He sits down beside her, cocking his head in her direction. “What’s wrong?”

Ah, hell.

“I don’t want to get into it.” She returns her attention to her camera.

He nudges her. “You can talk to me.”

There’s something weird about his voice, so she looks back up at him. The wind blows her hair into her face, obscuring him. But she can make out the expression on his face – it matches his tone.

Nervous. A little hopeful.

Her lips part in surprise, and suddenly she is all ears for whatever he has to say. The monster of hope roars up in her chest, threatening to swallow her whole.

“Why?” she asks, “Do you have something you wanted to talk about?”

Blaise freezes for a moment and then glances to the side, in the direction of their friends and family. He’s getting somewhere, though. She can tell.

“I’ve been thinking,” he finally says, looking back at her. Now that he’s made up his mind, he completely zones in on her. From one moment to the next, it’s like the rest of the world around them doesn’t exist anymore.

He has a look on his face that she remembers very clearly. He’s hovering right on the edge of vulnerability – of letting her in. Most of their relationship had been spent dancing on that knife’s edge.

But this time, he does something that he has never done before: he takes a shaky breath and plunges right off that edge.

“Can we try this again?” he asks, his expression open and pleading, “Us?”

Something inside of her is pulled taut. “You’ve been thinking about that?”

“Yes.”

There’s no hesitation or reluctance in his expression. She traces the lines of his face with her eyes, looking for anything even remotely unsure. Despite how he may present himself, Blaise is an overthinker. He overcompensates for his insecurities by pretending to be sure about things.

But right now…

She’s learned to read him, over the years. She’s seeing nothing of that now.

He’s serious.

The corners of her mouth turn up into a smile as hope turns into elation. “Yes,” she tells him.

His gaze flits across her face, and she knows he’s looking for the same things she was looking for just now. He won’t find any. She’s never been more sure about anything in her life.

“Yes,” she repeats, reaching out to take his hand. And because he has shown her how to do it, she lets her walls down for a second and squeezes his hand. “Please.”

A smile similar to her own unfurls on his face and he grips her hand more tightly. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely,” she states with a nod. She starts laughing.

He reaches for her like he can’t stop himself, pressing his hand into her cheek and scooting closer towards her so he can press their foreheads together, his fingers tangling in her hair.

Ginny laughs again, so overwhelmingly happy in that moment. She turns her head to press her lips to the palm of his hand, then moves back to press her forehead square against his.

She’s still holding his other hand. She never wants to let it go.

She’s not going to.

***

“Smile,” he whispers into her cheek, his hand pressing against her lower back.

“My jaws hurt,” she complains, but her lips curve up into a smile anyway.

She listens to Blaise chuckle while she poses for the camera, trying not to flinch when the flash goes off. The photographer looks at the image for a moment and then sticks up his thumb with a grin. Ginny gives him a polite nod and turns to Blaise as he walks away.

“That shot did not need a flash.”

Blaise smiles at her and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You can lecture him tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, I’m going to be lounging in a pool in Italy,” she corrects him, brightening up at the thought.

“Tomorrow, you’ll be passed out until three,” he correct her in turn, grinning at her.

She elbows him for the innuendo she knows is in there, but he’s right. Even if they do nothing but sleep tonight, she’s going to be absolutely floored tomorrow. All of the preparations have taken a bigger toll on her than she expected, and this day is very wonderful, but also very long.

Worth it, though.

She places a hand on Blaise’s cheek, looking at him while his gaze glides over their surroundings. People seem to be having fun, at least. The twins are drunk, which is rude, she supposes, but she just thinks it’s great. Plus, it’s hilarious to see their genuine interactions with all of Blaise’s stuck-up cousins. She’s pretty sure they’ve pranked at least three of them already.

She joins Blaise in his surveillance of the scene. They’re standing in the middle of their own backyard, where a dance floor has been put out, surrounded by fairy lights that her father insisted on buying for them. She kicked off her shoes before their first dance and Blaise keeps playing with her hair, which probably looks nothing like the elegant up-do that Fleur helped her with earlier that day.

She has never been happier in her life.

Everyone is there. Every single couple she’s ever photographed for, all of their family, their friends… Even Lady Zabini has a small smile on her face now, despite her company. She insisted on paying for the entire wedding, so Blaise and Ginny decided to have it in their backyard to spite her. Although Lady Zabini has come around to Ginny since she and Blaise got back together, she’s still stupidly hoity-toity about power and status when it comes down to it, and isn’t too happy about her son marrying into the Weasley family.

Well, she’ll have to get used to it. Against all odds, Blaise is a Weasley now.

And she’s a Zabini.

She looks back at her husband – her husband – and lets that sink in for another moment. Before she’s through, one of Blaise’s cousins has come up to congratulate them personally, and she’s swept back into polite conversation. As soon as the guy leaves, she groans and scrunches up her nose.

“We should have eloped.”

Blaise fondly rolls his eyes at her. “You’re the one who didn’t want to.”

“I’m an idiot.”

I told you that you’d hate a big wedding.”

“I don’t hate it. I love it. I would just also love to sit down.”

He shakes his head at her and her gaze drifts down to the new ring on his finger. After months and months of planning, today finally came. The ceremony is over. She’s all set. For life. It’s incredible.

Blaise pulls her against himself and presses a kiss to her crown. “I told you,” he says again.

She sighs. “Fine. You were right.”

“I usually am.”

She sticks out her tongue at him. Behind her, she hears the click of a camera. She turns her head to spot the photographer, not able to resists checking whether he’s doing an okay job. But Blaise catches her and sweeps down to kiss her. He doesn’t hold back either – he kisses her thoroughly, until some of the guests start cheering and whistling at them. Then he pulls back and kisses the tip of her nose before standing up straight again with a satisfied grin.

She can’t help but laugh at him. Ridiculous, perfect man.

“Let the man do his job,” he teases her.

“I am!”

“You’re hovering.”

She gasps. “You take that back.”

“It’s true.”

“Goddammit.”

He’s right. She needs to let this go. The next wedding she attends, she’ll be able to take her own pictures again. She’ll use all of the tools she likes best and play with the light and look for the best angles. She’ll have her settings just right and will get down into the dirt to get that perfect shot. For now, she just has to enjoy her own wedding for a change. It’s going to be the last one she’ll ever have, if it’s up to her.

She smiles at her husband. “Well, then, Zabini. How about you distract me?”

“Am I a joke to you? What have I been doing for the past hour?”

“Your best, I’m sure.”

“Ohohohoho… You did not.”

He pulls her against him, making her laugh, and drags her back onto the dance floor for another lazy waltz. She presses her cheek against his chest and closes her eyes, feeling the heat of his body against hers, the thump of his heart; her favourite sound. Around them, the party goes on, filling the evening air with drunken laughter and laid-back conversations. Blaise is humming along with the song, his chin on top of her head. Everything settles into place for a brief moment.

According to some people, time isn’t real, so this moment will last forever. Even when the night passes and she gets on a plane to Italy, holding her husband’s hand. When she spends the next few weeks lounging in his arms and making him feed her grapes and bruschetta. When they wake up on a Sunday morning twenty years from now. When she’s old and brittle and every memory she’s ever had begins to fade.

She will still be right here. With him.

#blinny #blaise x ginny #ginny x blaise #hp #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #original #slytherdornet #hprarepairnet

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theliterateape · 3 years ago

Text

Why Keep Giving Facebook My Business?

By David Himmel

It was the day after Christmas, 1996. I was a senior in high school on winter break. My friends and I piled into Brad Feely’s red Jeep Cherokee—me in the trunk because there weren’t enough seats for all of us and I was the smallest and cramming into a car too small for the passenger load is what high school kids do. We were headed to the mall to return ill-fitting gifts and fuck around because fucking around at the mall is—was—what high school kids do.

Brad had some things to return or exchange at Abercrombie & Fitch. He was at the checkout counter with the young woman making the exchanges. The rest of us wandered around the store. I started throwing on shirts, coats, hats, scarves, and such and acted out a runway fashion show. My friends giggled. I went bigger with my one-man flash mob fashion show. Other customers stared, some laughed, some ignored me. I went bigger. My friends laughed harder. Other customers laughed harder and tried to ignore me. I had achieved my goal. I’d fucked around in a store and made people laugh.

I took off the clothes, placed them back on the racks and shelves and walked up to Brad still at the counter. The employee had stepped into the back to retrieve something.

“Almost done?” I asked him.

He whispered to me, “You won’t believe what this girl just said about you.”

“What.”

“She called you a ‘dirty faggot.’”

“What!?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure.”

“One hundred percent. She said it under her breath, but, yeah. I heard her say it.”

I waited there for the young woman to return. A few moments later, she did. She finished up Brad’s exchanges, handed him his bag of stuff and said, “Have a nice day.”

“Excuse me,” I said to her, leaning in so as not to make a scene. Because this scene wasn’t going to be funny. But I was sure not to be too quiet about it since I did want the store to know what was going on. “Did you see my fashion show?”

“Um. Yeah?”

“Did you like it?”

She smirked uncomfortably. “Sure.”

“So why would you call me a ‘dirty faggot’?” Her face went white. Blank. Her eyes wide. Mouth agape. She’d been caught. “Yeah. My friend here heard you say it. So my question to you is this: What was dirty about what I was doing? And what about what I was doing made me a ‘faggot’? And if you thought I was being gay, what’s wrong with that? And why would you refer to a gay person as a ‘faggot’? Seems a little hateful.”

“I… I…” she stuttered, still pale faced and surprised.

“Doesn’t seem like the best customer service, does it? Insulting your customers—or their friends—with homophobic slurs.”

“I… I…”

“Yeah. Mind your mouth. Don’t be such a hateful, homophobic asshole. Especially in a store filled with photos of what have to be the gayest modeling shoots in retail history.”

People were watching and I took the cue to go louder. “That’s right, everyone. This woman, this Abercrombie & Fitch employee called me a ‘dirty faggot’. Just know the kind of person you’re buying your clothes from.”

I saw one guy drop whatever was in his arms and walk out. My friends and I followed suit.

✶

I never stepped foot in an Abercrombie & Fitch store after that. And I’m proud to say I never owned or wore a single item of theirs after my impromptu fashion show. Yeah, sure. She was a bad apple, but still. It had turned me off to the whole brand. Fuck ‘em.

Did my not buying their mostly ugly clothes—country club grunge?—hurt their bottom line? Did it send a message? No. Certainly not. Did it change the mind and behavior of that employee? I have no idea. Maybe. Maybe she’s a super-duper social justice warrior today. Maybe she doubled down and tried to Stop the Steal. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I experienced an insult to the customer and a group of people, and chose not to give that company my money.

I don’t shop at Hobby Lobby because of their treatment of workers—denying them birth control through their benefits program. I don’t eat Chick-fil-A because they oppose marriage equality and used to fund activities to suppress it. I wring my hands every time I order something on Amazon because I’m worried the worker filling my order might piss or shit themselves trying to meet their quota with my order. Or worse, get hurt doing so. Because we all know that Amazon treats its warehouse workers like demented mules instead of actual human beings with physiological limitations and full bladders.

It’s principle. I try to spend where my money will do the least harm because I know, in most instances, my spending won’t help much other than to keep someone employed at a shit job and make the owner that much richer.

So why haven’t I quit Facebook yet? Same reason I haven’t quit Amazon: It’s too convenient.

Also like Amazon, but far worse, Facebook is a monster. It was from the start. I joined under duress in 2008 because it was part of my job. When that job laid me off in the wake of the Great Recession, I killed the account. But Facebook gained more and more traction, and it seemed that I was missing out. Plus, it was a great way to promote the shows I was writing and producing. And I reconnected with old friends from lives past. Fun!

It became a reflexive way to procrastinate. Instead of standing up and stretching or reading a news story or going for a walk, I’d scroll mindlessly. Still, it was fun. It became a habit I wasn’t even aware of.

And it’s still fun, sometimes. I enjoy being easily—reflexively lazy—connected to those old pals I don’t see every day and probably wouldn’t communicate with if not for the ease of Facebook. But Facebook is bad. And when I say Facebook, I’m including Instagram, which I rarely use. (I have no issue with WhatsApp but I also only use that maybe once every two years.) They both suck. So it’s bad for our brains, bad for our body images, bad for democracy, bad for discourse, and so on. None of this is news. And this week’s whistleblowing of how actively evil Facebook leadership is reinforces the fact of how bad it apparently wants to be. And that’s insulting to all of its users and even non-users.

Because Facebook could still make millions of dollars a week and take active measures to be a better corporate citizen, a better steward of human decency. Like, has Facebook even added a pink ribbon to its logo for Breast Cancer Awareness Month? I don’t think so. Evil.*

I don’t need Facebook. The community groups are nice. And I really do like seeing those old friends I wouldn’t otherwise communicate with. And I take joy in the possibility that ex-girlfriends might occasionally poke through my profile and see how awesome my hair is. But I don’t need it. If I want to promote something, I can place an ad anywhere else. My god, what did we do before Facebook? And there are so many other digital ways to share our bullshit.

If I leave, will Facebook feel it? Nope. Just like Abercrombie. My aversion is less than a pebble drop in the ocean. But I’ll feel better. Right? I’ll miss my friends I wouldn’t otherwise talk to, but if they mattered that much to me, I could make the effort to text or call. But I won’t. Because the apparent truth is that having them as friends on Facebook is more about the voyeurism. So wait, are we even friends then? Jesus. Facebook has even warped our sense of friendship.

I don’t know if I’ll leave it. But it’s been on my mind for a while now. Maybe I won’t go cold turkey, maybe I’ll start by deleting the app from my phone. Or maybe it’s best to pack up all my shit and walk right out. That’s the advice I’d give to someone else in an abusive relationship.

*Just so we’re clear, this whole going pink in October thing that companies, local police departments, sports organizations love to do is dumb. It’s the bare minimum at best and limp virtue signaling at worst. If you really care about breast cancer, do a better job of caring about women. So, you know, pay better wages, offer childcare, don’t shoot them in their homes. Take your pink ribbon and shove it. Do better.

#Frances Haugen #Facebook #Boycotts #Abercrombie & Fitch #Abercrombie and Fitch #Gay slurs #gay rights #Facebook whistleblower #Facebook is evil #social media addiction #Corporate greed #American greed

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nobodyfamousposts · 5 years ago

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Hey Nobody! 👋 Do you do short requests if someone has an interesting prompt? Or do you know any writers that would? I have an idea for some angsty Alya Salt that I can’t get out of my head, but unfortunately I suck at writing. *Where Alya goes to a journalism 101 lecture and they happen to use her interview with Lila as an example of what not to do. “Always check your sources!”*

Alya was excited. She had been looking forward to this web seminar on journalism for weeks now. After all her efforts, she had finally managed to score access to the live lecture being run by Victoria Berger, one of her role models in the field! It had taken quite a bit of effort and she still owed Marinette her soul and a date with Adrien for using her connection to Nadja to get this chance, but it was worth it! It didn’t matter that it was the middle of the day and she should be in class right now. She wasn’t going to miss an opportunity like this.

By the time she had managed to sneak away and get the laptop set up, the lecture had already started. Luckily, she hadn’t missed too much. There was Victoria already at the stand and beginning her lecture for those who were able to attend in person. Lucky! Maybe someday Alya would be able to get there.

She grinned. She could already see it now.

“But there is one thing that can make or break any reporter.”

Alya felt her skin tingle in excitement, pen at the ready to take notes.

“Facts.” The speaker stated, continuing her lecture. “You need to have facts and information that can be verified. It’s a form of science of its own, if you think about it. Much like any scientific experiment, it has to have two things—reliability and validity. Is the information you are trying to share valid—is it true? And is the information reliable—can other people investigating the information come to same conclusion?”

How true! She nodded, jotting the notes. But of course, she knew all this already. That was why she was already so successful.

“These two things are vital, and make all the difference between your work being a legitimate news source such as Le Monde or Le Figaro…or a tabloid like the Ladyblog.”

Alya froze as a tightness started in her throat.

It was an open forum, so viewers were allowed to ask questions. And naturally, one such question came up asking for clarification on this statement about the Ladyblog. Alya felt some relief that it didn’t have to be—that someone else clearly thought highly enough of the blog to question the statement. Because…she did such great work! How could her own idol see her blog as a tabloid?

“Misinformation is actually more dangerous than people not getting information in the first place. Thanks to the Internet, misinformation is much more widespread, and reports such as the Ladyblog can spread false information with widespread consequences before accurate information can be made available.”

Wait—consequences?

“Due to reports from the Ladyblog, there have been at least three separate instances requiring documented increased police presence around the François-Dupont school.”

Wait—police? Alya gasped, feeling her stomach drop at that. But…she hadn’t noticed anything…

“The first, was when the admin of the blog accused one Chloe Bourgeois of being the city’s resident super hero. However, this was disregarding previous and well known footage of the superhero in question rescuing that very victim in the first attack. Something that was widely available, and should have been checked first before making such a claim. Rather than do so, the blogger instead chose to violate boundaries of a private citizen’s for information that was already available.”

But…that had been Chloe. And she had been expelled unfairly over it. The truth had come out in the end anyway, hadn’t it?

“The second was when the blogger made the claim that the hero might be a student at the school. This was based entirely on circumstantial evidence of a book that was obtained during an active crisis. By all counts, the book could’ve belonged to anyone and ladybug might have simply been returning it, and by taking it to use for information rather than try to return it, what the young lady did was legally theft. Perhaps even blackmail.”

That…that was just journalism! She had been seeking the truth. It…wouldn’t have really caused legal trouble, would it?

“Both of these instances involved the blogger violating privacy and ethics in order to find information that at best would be considered circumstantial and far from accurate. In order to get the information she wanted, she jumped to conclusions, went to extreme lengths, and ignored risks not only to the validity of the information she was trying to seek, but the people it could hurt, and even her own life.”

It hadn’t hurt anyone, though! It wasn’t like anything could have happened!

“What if she did find out Ladybug’s identity? People would then know who to accost. This would open up our hero to threats, violence, and harm not only from the very villain she has been attempting to protect us all from, but even criminals and regular civilians looking to gain something from it. She could have been attacked by anyone seeking this Miraculous of hers for themselves, and then not only would a young woman be grievously injured over an avoidable matter, but the city would be down a hero—if not gain another supervillain. There are risks to what we do. Consequences to what information we share. And it’s not just for ourselves. Part of being a reporter is not just knowing when to put out information, it’s knowing when not to.”

A cold feeling of dread climbed up Alya’s spine. She…she hadn’t even considered…

“Which brings us to the third incident, an interview with a student by the name of Lila Rossi. Miss Rossi is the daughter of a diplomat and a frequent traveler. To the blogger’s credit, the interview was made with the student’s permission. But that doesn’t change the fact that the interview consisted almost entirely of lies.”

If she thought her heart was in her stomach before, it had surely dropped to her knees now as she watched how they systematically disproved every single one of Lila’s claims through contradictions in her own story, contradictions when comparing her other stories, and public information that Alya could easily have found had she even tried at any point to look.

And the worst part? After having her site and her work criticized, dissected, and discredited for the world to see, it was hearing that one line. That last thing before she couldn’t take anymore and exited the web seminar, tossing the laptop to the other side of the hall she had been holed up in. That same line she had previously told Marinette when she was still so sure of herself. The one thing she hadn’t done when it came to her stance on that very issue.

“A good journalist always checks their sources.”

#ml fic #ml prompt #ml plot bunny #ml salt #alya salt #ask and ye shall receive

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be-lis-mamamoo · 5 years ago

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International Women's Day: Mamamoo Edition

Just because I thought "Why not?" If you you're involved with Mamamoo, every single day feels like a Women's Day. And here are the reasons why 👇🏻

Kim Yongsun - Solar

When we're talking about women empowerment in K-Pop or the music industry in general, I hardly can think of a better role model than Kim Yongsun. She's not only Mamamoo's oldest member and their leader, she's also a very supportive and thoughtful person who always cares about everyone and everything around her.

Her YouTube channel Solarsido demonstrates her versatility as singer, entertainer, dancer, choreographer etc. and she pleases her fans with a lot of diverse content. Once in a while she shows her incredible dance skills, the other day she exposes her way of learning English. But what's really impressive about her YouTube channel is that she raises awareness about serious issues and social causes:

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In honor of “Expectant Mother’s Day”, Solar volunteered to help watch her friend Eun Song’s newborn baby. Solar volunteered to help watch her friend Eun Song’s newborn baby. While she did struggle a bit, her sharing the experience was illuminating about what mothers go through on a daily basis! ©Koreaboo

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Solar joined forces with Dongdaemun Senior Welfare Center and social worker Jung Soo Bin to donate roughly 2,200 lbs of kimchi to underprivileged elderly. She even delivered some of the boxes in person, making the gesture even more meaningful! ©Koreaboo

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On the “International Day of Zero Tolerance for Female Genital Mutilation”, Solar used her large platform to raise awareness of the violence women around the world experience as victims of FGM. ©Koreaboo

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Also, did I mention that Solar stands for gender neutrality? I think we all remember that time she ripped off her shirt during their 4seasons 4 colors concerts and when she was invited to perform live at KBS! She explained, “Afer seeing many male idols ripping their shirts on stage, I wondered, ‘Why can’t girls do that too?‘”

There's a lot more to say about her so if you don't know much about Solar or Mamamoo in general, make sure to check them out. You won't regret it.

Moon Byulyi - Moonbyul

One of the best examples for gender neutrality and music diversity in K-Pop might be Miss Moon Byulyi.

With her latest solo comeback "Dark side of the Moon", she wrote a new history in K-Pop. Bold in both sound and style, Moonbyul takes the stage with "Eclipse" and uses it to show off her duality as both a singer and rapper over its forceful melody and brash beats. Accompanied by the release of a captivating music video where the artist is seen both as a soldier and a queen, “Eclipse” revels in Moonbyul’s skills as a performer, and also continues Mamamoo’s legacy as an act that constantly relays different ideas of feminine strength through their music. ©Billboard

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Moonbyul is successfully redefining fashion’s outdated gender norms by wearing suits and breaking the beauty standards of K-Pop PERFECTLY. But Byulyi also has her soft sides. Her sincere love for Mamamoo and Moomoos is just precious and she never misses a chance to show her support and love for her members and fans. On Fancafe, she helped Moos who went through hard times and in her private life, family and friends play a central role which she proudly shows by her many tattoos.

I personally love her for her way of spreading self-confidence and a strong self-esteem. Be it by her self-composed songs or by simply talking with fans during Fanmeetings and on Vlive, she always motivates us to love ourselves!

Make sure to follow her on Instagram!

Jung Wheein - Wheein

Wheein was born to shine. But she was also born to be a great role model and here is why.

Fronting Soar, Wheein's first-ever solo single album, “Good Bye,” or “Let’s Break Up” as it reads literally in Korean, is a poignant track that rises and falls with Wheein's dynamic delivery of the song, as soft rock instrumentals build the melody up around her powerful vocals.

"Good Bye" was released through a heart-rendering music video that depicts a rare representation of same-sex love in K-pop. Featuring a woman entering the home of a couple, she treats it as if it’s her own and play-acts being in a relationship, while becoming enraged and destroying signs of the pair being together, seemingly out of jealousy. ©Billboard

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In addition, Wheein explained that the shape of love doesn't matter to her, it's all the same. For me as a member of the LGBTQ+ community, Wheein's statement means a lot and I'm so happy about her support and understanding!

During the "Secret Unnie" filming with SNSD's Hyoyeon, Wheein also talked about the pressure of Korean beauty standards and her struggles of feeling left behind, a feeling all of us can relate to.

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Whenever Wheein shows her vulnerable sides, it always carries an important message to her fans. I love her because she's simply being herself without trying to be someone she isn't. Wheein is one of the most humble artists I've ever met, she's an inspiration and a great emotional supporter.

Ahn Hyejin - Hwasa

I guess since she became THE it-girl of 2018, 2019 and probably 2020 also, everyone should be aware of how much of an amazing person she is. Here are the reasons why she is my number one queen.

Everything started with twit, her first solo song which quickly became a very popular song in SK. Her prowess as one of K-pop’s most dynamic singers carries throughout the song, a true show of her impressive talent as she addresses, mocks really, a lover who is giving too much to someone who doesn’t deserve it. ©Billboard

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"If I don't fit in this generation's standard of beauty, I will have to become a different standard"

Who doesn't remember her most famous quote? I think a lot of people appreciate her for her very strong self-esteem and just being the way she is. Just like Wheein and the rest of Mamamoo, she's very humble and down to earth.

What I love the most about her is her attitude. Hwasa called out her haters in their latest comeback album "reality in BLACK" and doesn't hesitate to tell the whole world how much she loves to be herself.

What can I say, there's so much more I want to tell about her but the best way to get to know her is to watch the whole Mamamoo related content and ofc her solo activities, for example her appearance in "I live alone"

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All in all we have to admit that she's the most badass queen ever who deserves the whole world. And it's our obligation to protect her from all the unnecessary hate. She has just the sweetest personality and even though she acts like a tough person, she can get hurt just like every other human on this planet.

Mamamoo isn't only a group of talented singers. They're very unique and special women with big hearts and a lot of love and support for their family, friends and fans. K-Pop is a strict and sometimes scary music business but even so, Mamamoo manages to be such great role models and one of the most humble celebrities I ever got to know!

#I could spend the whole day talking about Mamamoo #But it would never be enough time to mention all the great things they did #Mamamoo is just amazing in every aspect I can think of #I dedicate this to the international women's day and Mamamoo #Mamamoo #international women's day #mamamoo solar #moonbyul #Wheein #Hwasa

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