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sometipsygnostalgic · 4 years ago

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Adventure Time Reviewed - S1E09 and S1E10 - My Two Favourite People and Memories of Boom Boom Mountain

My Two Favourite People

This ep is about Jake’s plight of not being able to spend time with Finn and Lady together, so he decides to solve the problem. Finn isn’t very supportive of Jake running off to hang with Lady, lol. He thinks it’s lame to want to spend lots of time with your girlfriend. He’ll eat his words in season 4, where all he can think about is Flame Princess. I love that the cat and shark appearing every day and getting decapitated. They were brought up later but the cat said the shark died of old age. That’s the only thing that can kill him... :(

The first appearance of Shelby the worm!!!! Jake trying to wave his arms in the air out of exasperation while cycling, so he crashes into a tree. Beautiful. They picnic by a fire lake, with skeletons and treasure, instead of by a normal lake. The joke that doesn’t translate very well is actually a very naughty reference to Jake and Lady dancing in the field. Jake felt too awkward to tell Finn LOL

Post getting the translator, I think this joke may be inspired by how they couldn’t decide how Lady should speak. At first it was jargon but they eventually settled on Korean. Old man voice: “Come on darling, wrap your legs around me!” Incredible.

I wonder how Finn got rid of the power rings? There are many instances of Finn and Jake having random magic abilities. These are usually explained as items - in Wizard, they always wore wizard robes, and in Chambers of Frozen Blades, they wear headbands.

This ep is an early example of Jake being a flawed character. Before this point he had been mostly reasonable, demonstrating some laziness but always being on Finn’s side. This time he blows things out of proportion in his head and acts immaturely, which is actually pretty sweet. He really cares about Finn and Lady but also has the tendency to feel left out!!!!! And to expand on Jake’s past, we get our very first appearance of TIFFANY. (and a passing mention of the flying lettuce brothers) “Why would I be jealous?” “Because TIFFANY’s.... A BOY!!!!!!!” Incredible- OH MY GOD FINN CALLED HIM A “HOMEWRECKER”. That refers to someone who “breaks” a household by sleeping with one of its partners.

“Oh sweet potato. I love you BECAUSE you’re an idiot. You make me feel like a genius.” Well at least she’s honest. A tender moment.

“Let’s always be stupid. FOREVER!”

Memories of Boom Boom Mountain

The start of this episode is brilliant. Pen Ward at his best, and I assume Bert Youn or Sean Jiminez too.

Finn having fun with the marauders, getting dissed because he wanted to help someone, then having a go at them and laying down that he helps everyone with the smallest of problems because he remembers when he fell into boom boom as a baby... it demonstrates the touching naivete of his pure righteousness. Finn doesn’t yet understand that some people have to solve their own problems, and some people don’t deserve his help. He’s pure hearted. That’s the obstacle this episode makes him challenge.

I love that the marauders clap for him when he’s done. They understand he’s just a kid. I love these sorts of interactions in season 1, where people treat Finn like a kid.

Jake looks out for Finn by taking those rocks for him. There are so many moments across the show where Jake takes damage on behalf of other characters. I think the most recent example is when he swallows the birds in the finale, and they make him explode. Jake is very brave in ways it’s easier to appreciate as an adult.

Finn also jumps off the mountain holding Jake, which indicates to me he used him to parachute down.

I love that the mountain is actually having a crisis of sexual identity, he can’t stand the roughhousing men because theyre too attractive, which is why hes so happy when his heterosexuality is reaffirmed by the girl mountain calling him attractive

The part where they tie ducks and animals to their hands always cracks me up, the quacking noises when the punches lands instead of thumping noises. It looks genuinely soft but at the same time I understand the mountain’s perspective at being alarmed over all this animal punching. Doesn’t seem the animals are too bothered though! I love how in AT you get animals undergoing experimentation, observation, all sorts of crap, and they just don’t care. There is that poor cow from the graybles ep mind you.

The petting part of this ep is pretty gay.

WHOAH! There is some music in this episode that is used in Varmints. The banjo that plays when Finn suggests rotating the mountain is the same banjo that plays when Bubblegum is rocking on her chair waiting for varmints.

After a hilarious scene with everyone of every species having problems, my favourite being the dandelion person that wants to be pollinated, Finn implodes, and we have a beautiful moment where we meet Joshua and Margaret for the first time. I believe this is when it was revealed Finn and Jake are brothers, not just best friends.

I love the Rune Goldberg device. It’s entirely unsustainable. The flies will leave the guy’s ears, the marauders will want to take a break, the dragon will stop scratching its butt and will stop blowing fire, and the mountain will probably start crying again. But for the moment, it’s a solution, so Finn probably goes home feeling happy with himself.

The part at the end with the dolphin is such a random early AT moment.

Overall this was a great episode. What I loved in particular is the worldbuilding. Not only do we get a look into Finn’s motivations and backstory, long before he would be revealed to have come from an overseas human colony, we also get adventure time characters of all sorts of different species. I think this is the first time a “dragon” had shown up, and naturally it doesn’t look like a normal dragon.

The end actually made me think of Obsidian. First of all, both episodes have weird “dragons”, which have their own emotional problems because of course they do. Secondly, the dragon transforming into a butterfly cat - which is actually a sea angel - draws from the randomness of this episode, and from the later episode with Gunther’s kitty baby.

#adventure time reviewed #adventure time

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cynicalrainbows · 4 years ago

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It’s a minor one but the relationship between Margaret and Fanny in series 2 is one of the less focused on but most heartbreaking dynamics to me.

Like, we see Fanny basically just doing her job- she’s one of Margaret’s girls but she’s not afforded any special privileges or affection. She’s not a scapegoat or disliked but if you had to rank the girls in the house, you have Emily at the top Margaret’s ‘best girl’ and best earner. Sure Margaret doesn’t like her that must but does anyone really get on with Emily? Margaret respects her earning power at least. Then Kitty- slightly less valuable but still a good earner, reliable and most importantly, likeable. And then Fanny- more pleasant than Emily but not really special in any way. And that’s fine- Fanny is treated as well as the other girls, which is all one can ask for.

Until suddenly in series 2, Fanny’s absolutely heartbreaking revelation to Kitty, when she shyly admits that she used to pretend that Margaret was her mother. Just...what an utterly tragic dearth of affection, that Fanny is actually looking to her not-that-maternal-with-her-actual-daughters bawd as a surrogate mother figure. That just kills me. And the way Kitty says ‘I know’ so gently- obviously they’re close but clearly Fanny hasn’t told Kitty this before, so we can only deduce that the poor thing has not made it the secret that she obviously intended.

And then the way Margaret is so careless with Fanny’s feelings- turning on her easily to threaten her to shut her up when she needs to (albeit while under an insane amount of stress) and then easily recanting it as if it’s nothing. Just....as much as I love Margaret as a character, there is something casually cruel in her ‘You know you’re my special girl’....Not that the words themselves are cruel and I think she absolutely does want to reassure Fanny in her own way (and while I can absolutely imagine her throwing Fanny out if she had to, I think she’d also regret it a lot and maybe even try to make ammends after) but you absolutely cannot tell me that she herself doesn’t have some idea of how Fanny views (or used to view) her. There’s the sense of throwing a dog a bone- and worse, there’s the implication that Fanny recognises it too.

That’s why I’m so glad series 2 began with Fanny and Kitty running away together with baby Mercy to live in the country with Kitty’s daughter, raising their children together and giving each other the love they deserve. Very bold choice from the writers but obviously the right one.

#harlots

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years ago

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God Forgive Us All (part two)

[Carrie Au]

Part 1

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Word Count: 5059

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-Open Your Heart-

The downpour outside felt unnatural and unstoppable and utterly, unpleasantly wet. And Aragon loved it. She especially loved the moaning, groaning, dripping slowpokes of her exhausted actresses.

“Alright!” Her voice had boomed across the auditorium half an hour earlier. “Line up! Let’s go, ladies!”

The actresses had hurried into a line on the stage, exchanging confused glances. Aragon looked a lot more menacing than she usually did, riled up to her full size like a venomous snake or a lioness about to strike. She stared at the group of women as if they were mangled roadkill that not even the lowest of scavengers would want to eat.

“Come on! Move your asses!” Aragon barked. Luanne and Piper, eyes front! Clarissa, shut your mouth! And Kitty, spit out that gum right now! You know it’s not allowed on the stage!”

“Where should I put it, Miss Aragon?” Kitty asked sweetly.

“You can choke on it for all I care,” Aragon hissed in her face. “Just get it out of your mouth.”

Kitty stepped back and grit her teeth. She gave up after a moment, groaning softly while spitting her gum into the wrapper it came in and putting it into her pocket to throw away later.

“Good,” Aragon said, stepping back. “Margaret, wipe that smirk off your face.”

Maggie, who had been grinning devilishly up until that moment, jolted and bit her lips into a flat line. At her side, Jane glowered at Aragon. Aragon glowered right back at her.

“Now,” Aragon began slowly, pacing up and down the line of actresses. “What you did yesterday was a shitty thing. A really shitty thing. Have any of you ever stopped to wonder if Joan Meutas had feelings?”

Nobody spoke, although Maggie did dare to roll her eyes, earning her the evilest glare from Aragon.

“I expected better of you all.” Aragon went on. “Most of you are grown adults! Julie,” She whipped her head towards a woman with olive skin and curly auburn hair. “You have a daughter, don’t you? You’re a mother! How could you do such a thing?”

Julie opened her mouth, but then immediately shut it and narrowed her eyes at the floor, unable to come up with a mature response. Aragon sneered in disgust.

“But Joan isn’t her daughter,” Kitty said. “She shouldn’t have to care about other kids. Only her own.”

“That still gives her no right to throw fucking tampons at a frightened child!” Aragon growled. “Joan is sixteen. Do you all know that? She’s just a kid. A minor. And I could have you all arrested for harassment. Sexual harassment, too, I’m sure, seeing as she was naked.”

That seemed to get through to some of them, as they exchanged worried glances and a few murmurs. Jane gave Aragon a “you wouldn’t dare” look, while Aragon raised an eyebrow and gave one right back at her that said, “try me.”

“As you know, opening night is coming up,” Aragon said. “Jane. Have anyone special you’re bringing?”

Jane looked Aragon up and down skeptically. “His name is Henry Tudor.”

“Oh, how fancy,” Aragon said. “Is he going to wear anything nice to the show? Or are you just going to pin a bloody tampon to his shirt and tell him to go like that?”

Jane bared her teeth at Aragon’s smirk. She tried to march past the woman, but she’s grabbed roughly by the shoulder and shoved back into place.

“Oh, you aren’t going anywhere,” Aragon said. She turned to Anne after releasing Jane and studied her guilty expression. “What about you, Anne? Got anyone you’re bringing to opening night?”

Anne looked profoundly uncomfortable, just how Aragon wanted her. She wanted all of the actresses to squirm like there were worms under their skin. She wanted them to feel in their souls what they did to Joan.

“My family,” Anne said. “Cathy will already be there.”

“Hm,” Aragon shot a glance at Cathy standing nearby, who was trying very hard to act like a harmless statue. “Maybe.”

That made Cathy move from her statue-like position. She looked at Aragon in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“My idea of punishment for this little trick you pulled was to fire all of you,” Aragon said. The smirk on her lips twitched higher when the group exclaimed in shock and disbelief. “That’ll hit you where it hurts, doesn’t it? It’s what you all deserve.”

“You can’t do that!” Jane growled.

“I can, actually,” Aragon said. “We have understudies. Hell, I’ll even get the boys to play your roles! However.” She stared down at all of them. “The director doesn’t want to go to that extreme just yet. So instead, you are all to have mandatory warmups with me for a week. It’ll be an hour long and you will do whatever I say for you to do or else you’ll be packing your things and never coming back. Do you all understand?”

There are nods of agreement with gritted teeth.

“Wonderful.” Aragon smiled. “Go take a lap around the block. Five laps, actually. And recite all of your lines while you do so. Get those leg muscles warmed up for dancing.”

“But—it’s raining.” Kitty said, clearly dismayed about having to get wet.

“I don’t care,” Aragon said silkily. “Go! Now!”

There had been a moment of hesitation, but after she yelled again, the actresses realized she was being serious and filed out of the auditorium in a disbelieving, muttering mass of grumpiness. Aragon shook her head with a sigh, watching them go. She then turned around to go wait somewhere else when she had noticed the head peeking out from the wings. A kind smile formed on her lips.

“Hello, honey,” She greeted Joan warmly. “Come here. No need to hide.”

Joan hesitated, then shuffled out of the dark wings. She had her fingers wrung in her shirt and kept glancing around everywhere, expecting there to be something that may humiliate her just waiting around for her.

“How are you feeling?” Aragon asked, easing an arm around Joan’s shoulders. She almost pulled away when she felt Joan stiffen, but then she was leaning against her with a small, content noise.

“Umm... F-fine.” Joan mumbled awkwardly. “Did you really make them run?”

“I did,” Aragon said proudly. “They deserve it.”

Joan nodded very slowly, like she was trying to convince herself that that was true.

“Thank you.” She whispered. “I-I never told you yesterday. I-I’m sorry...”

“No, no, honey,” Aragon said. “It’s totally fine! You must have been so overwhelmed yesterday.”

Joan nodded again and Aragon gently cupped her face. She leaned into that touch, too. The poor thing must not get much affection at home, Aragon realized sadly.

“I am so sorry that happened to you, Joan.” Aragon said. “You didn’t deserve that at all.”

“B-but my mama s-said—” She snapped her mouth shut quickly.

“What?” Aragon tilted her head. “What did your mother say?”

Joan shook her head, looking a touch uncomfortable. She shuffled her feet.

“N-nothing,” She stuttered. “I-I need to g-go do my schoolwork. B-bye, Miss Aragon.”

She began to hurry away, paused, then rushed back over to Aragon and gave her a quick hug.

“Thank you,” She whispered softly before pulling back and scampering off.

Aragon was left awestruck. She had never expected Joan Meutas to hug her, but she didn’t mind in the slightest. A loving smile spread on her lips.

Sweet girl... She thought, and she continued to fondly think about the shy little pianist until the auditorium doors had swung open and the group of actresses she sent running came hobbling back inside in a soaked heap.

Aragon watched in amusement as they floundered up to the stage, looking as though they had been dredged from the bottom of one of the canals. A few of them, like Maggie and Kitty, flopped right to the ground like a soggy blob, while others doubled over and panted or held their hands behind their heads and raised their arms to try and get more air into their lungs. No matter what position they took, they all looked equally cold, equally soaked, and equally miserable. Just how Aragon wanted them.

“You—you can’t do this to us,” Jane hissed through heavy breaths. She was kneeling to rest her legs, glaring up at Aragon, who was still smiling pleasantly. “We could catch our death out there!”

“I’m sure a little Swine Flu would teach you not to harass a teenage girl,” Aragon said dismissively. “Alright, ladies, break’s over. You still have twenty minutes of warmups before rehearsals start and I want you to—”

“No.”

Aragon stared down at Jane. She watched as she rose up to her feet, eyes flashing like a vengeful white tiger’s.

“No?” Aragon echoed.

“Jane...” Anne muttered cautiously from where she was sitting down.

“I’m not doing another goddamn thing you say,” Jane clarified, “because Joan Meutas got her period and was too stupid to know what it was.”

There’s a scattering of murmurs throughout the group. Aragon’s expression looked frighteningly calm, but anger was flickering in her dark eyes.

“Alright,” She said slowly, venom oozing from her lips. “You’re out.”

Jane is taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“You’re out.” Aragon said more firmly. “You will not be performing opening night.”

“No!” Jane yelled. “You can’t do that! You don’t make those calls!”

“I just did, Seymour.”

“Well, you can just stick it up your—”

Jane is cut off when she’s hit so hard she nearly toppled over. The sound echoed through the auditorium, much louder than when Joan had been slapped the day before. While that slap had been done to snap a frightened girl out of her panicked trance, this one had been done purely out of rage and hatred.

“I do not want to hear another word from you!” Aragon roared, grabbing Jane by the collar of her shirt and shaking her viciously. “You will not be performing, do you understand me? And if I gave my way with the director, you will never be performing for this show ever again! Now go!”

Jane stared at her in disbelief, tense in the grasp that held her.

“GO!” Aragon bellowed, shoving Jane backward. Jane stumbled, then finally sulked off of the stage, cradling her welting cheek and muttering, maybe even crying. “Now...for the rest of you...”

Aragon turned her flashing eyes to the group.

“Run Suicides. Now.”

———

“Well, that was plain awful,” Cathy muttered, peeling off her wet clothes. Rainwater and sweat have made them soggy and unbearable. She felt like she was chafing all over. “Could be worse, though, right, Annie? Anne?”

She turned around when she didn’t get a reply to see her girlfriend sitting on one of the shower benches, deep in thought. She pulled on a dry shirt and walked over, gently touching Anne’s shoulder.

“Babe?” She said. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing,” Anne smiled up at her. “Just...thinking.”

“About?” Cathy sat next to Anne.

“Joan.”

Cathy furrowed her eyebrows. “Joan? How come?”

“Cathy, what happened yesterday was awful. I feel /terrible/. And I want to do something about it.” Anne said. “I want to help Joan.”

“How?”

Anne thought for a moment, then perked up. Her eyes had a new light in them.

“We be her friend!” She declared.

Cathy blinked. “That’s all?”

“Cathy, when I asked her if she was okay yesterday, she looked like she was ready to get on her knees and worship me.” Anne said. “She wants someone. She /needs/ a friend. And we can be that for her!”

Cathy thought it over briefly, then smiled and nodded. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

Anne beamed. “Oh, thank you, Cathy!” She gave her a quick kiss. “You are the best! Come on, let’s go find her!”

It was harder than they expected to find Joan Meutas. She usually wasn’t with anyone, not even the other musicians who she had to work with, preferring to be alone to avoid ridicule. Cathy and Anne searched for a good twenty minutes before they finally stumbled upon her by accident in the upstairs costume room.

The room was on a separate floor from the main second level of the theater. You have to go up a flight of black stairs in one of the dark wings and stand on an equally black ledge to open up a large, heavy wooden door that never made a single noise when its hinges would move. When you stepped inside, there would be two places to go- a ladder with its paint peeling on the left that led up to the catwalk, which was where Cathy and Anne had been meaning to go to get a better view of the auditorium, and then the extra costume room on the right. Old, shabby, unwanted costumes were kept in there, so nobody usually went in there. But from the way Joan was tucked cozily in a rack of indigo and azure dresses and frayed blue wool ponchos, it seemed like she visited this room quite often.

When Anne had first joined this specific West End theater, she distinctly remembered the extra costume room being a mess- suits thrown on the floor, shoes lying around listlessly without a matching pair, cardigans hung up with pants. It was like a tornado had blown through a clothing store. But now everything was sorted neatly in rainbow order. All the reds were with the reds, all the oranges were with the oranges, and so on. There were also several books stacked against one of the racks and a fluffy blanket that Joan was currently using.

When Joan noticed Anne and Cathy standing in the doorway, staring at her, she jumped three feet in the air so fast that the pair of women were even startled. She scrambled to her feet, nearly sending the rack of blue clothes she had been snuggled in toppling onto her.

“I-I-I’m sorry!” She yelped. “I-I-I d-d-didn’t mean to ignore w-work! I-I just—”

“Hey, hey, shh,” Anne took a small step towards her. “It’s okay. We’re not mad.”

Joan wasn’t convinced. Not that Anne or Cathy blamed her. They could both clearly see the hurricane of grief and guilt and fear and anxiety that had apparently taken the place of logical thought in this girl’s head. Everything, every little thing, was a worst-case scenario to this girl. Everything ended in a disaster to her.

To be around Joan was to walk on shaky grounds, and Anne and Cathy had to tread carefully.

“I’m Anne, remember?” Anne said, trying to look as friendly and nonthreatening as possible. “And this is Cathy.”

“I know you who you guys are,” Joan mumbled. She looked down at the floor. “I’m not dumb...”

“I bet you aren’t at all,” Cathy said. “I bet you’re really smart, huh?”

The way Joan looked at Cathy... She so badly wanted to trust both her and Anne. But years of hurt and ridicule that stretched far before her time at the theater lingered and made her put up more walls than any person should ever have. She shrunk further into her mental shell and merely shrugged in reply to Cathy’s comment, looking away again.

“What were you reading?” Anne asked, glancing at the book Joan had been reading before she was startled to her feet.

“Oh,” Joan hurried over to the book and gingerly picked up. She looked absolutely mortified when she saw the cover page had been bent a little on the corner when she dropped it. “I-it’s, umm—” She floundered, simultaneously worked up about the book and the two women talking to her. “Th-The Crucible.”

“Oooh,” Cathy cooed in interest. “That’s a good one.”

Joan nodded as she was trying to fix the crease. “M-my mama said that— I-I mean mum— mother— umm—” She whimpered sharply, looking around in dismay.

She still calls her mum “mama”, Anne thought with a small smile. That’s adorable.

It was so sad about how embarrassed she was getting over it, though.

“Joan, it’s alright.” Anne assured her. “You can call your mother whatever you want. We’re not going to make fun of you for that.”

That mixed look of adoration and shock from the day before returned, but this time much brighter.

“You— Thank you.” Joan bowed her head in a grateful way. She ran her thumb over the whitened crease against the corner. “B-but—she said that I need to read books like this. S-so I will know what will happen if I sinned.”

Anne and Cathy both exchange worried looks. Joan doesn’t notice, nor does she notice Cathy’s grimace. Now things were starting to fall in place a little more.

“I see,” Anne said slowly.

“Well, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” Cathy said. “You’re a very good girl, Joan.”

Joan blinked at her in delight.

“What else do you like to read?” Anne asked. She glanced over at the stack of books against the wall, only to find them all dealing with Christianity in some way. “Harry Potter? Hunger Games? Percy Jackson?”

“Oh, no,” Joan shook her head. “My mama says that stuff was made by the devil and will rot your brain. I’m not allowed to read books like that.”

What an awful childhood she must have had, Anne thought sadly, tilting her head at Joan. Poor thing.

“Well, if you ever need book recommendations,” Cathy said. “I read a lot. So I know a few.” She winked at Joan, and, for the briefest of moments, Joan cracked a tiny ghost of a smile.

But then it went away in an instant, snuffed out like a candle in a winter whirlwind because caution and worry were shoving their way into Joan’s brain. She looked Cathy and Anne up and down again, then stepped back. She’s retreated back into her shell, suddenly frightened.

“Wh-why are you doing this?” She asked softly, hugging her book close to her chest like she thought it may protect her from cruel words or even physical blows. “Wh-why are y-you...” She trailed off, looking away.

“Oh, Joan,” Anne murmured. “We want to be your friend.”

Joan stared at her with impossibly wide eyes. Then, she’s stumbling over her words- “You want to- I’m your- you like- no- no- you can’t- you will hurt- no- no- no!”- and trembling. Cathy reached out to comfort her, but she cried out and darted under her arm and out the door. They both heard her run haphazardly down the black staircase and somewhere further into the theater, leaving them defeated and saddened.

“Well,” Anne breathed. “That could have gone better.”

———

Aragon found her curled up under the piano in one of the rehearsal rooms with her knees to her chest, crying. She had been going to find the prop master to see if the blanks for the guns had come in, but that was the last thing on her mind when she heard the soft sniffles and whimpers of Joan Meutas.

She hurried inside, setting her cup of tea and script down on one of the shelves immediately, and knelt down in front of the piano. Joan’s head jerked up, but her frightened eyes softened slightly when she realized it wasn’t anyone that wanted to hurt her.

Joan trusted her.

A flutter of joy tickled inside of Aragon, but she pushed it aside for the moment. She examined Joan, luckily finding no open wounds or gashes or bruises, but any pain inflicted on her to make her cry could easily be mental and emotional, not physical.

“Joan, honey,” She said softly. “What’s wrong?”

Joan sniffled and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. She was doing her best to not look at Aragon, but she seemed to crave the warmth and tenderness in her eyes.

“N-nothing,” She whispered so quietly Aragon almost didn’t hear it.

“Did one of the girls do something to you?” Aragon asked.

Joan shook her head wordlessly. Aragon crawled underneath the piano and sat down next to her.

“Then what is it?”

Joan hesitated a moment, sniffled, then whispered, “S-someone asked to be my friend.”

Aragon’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Joan, that’s wonderful!” She beamed. “Who was it?”

“A-Anne Boleyn and C-Cathy Parr,” Joan told her. She clasped her hands together tightly. “I-I know who they go around with Miss Aragon. They’re just gonna trick me again...”

Aragon frowned. She knew that Joan was wary of people, but it seemed like her social anxiety and fear of others ran much deeper than she thought. She couldn’t even believe that someone wanted to be her friend.

“Well, maybe they’re not,” Aragon said, hoping to raise Joan’s spirits. “Maybe they really mean it.”

“But why?” Joan looked up at Aragon and her eyes were so, so sad. Aragon wished she could reach inside of her and crush every ounce of misery and fear and doubt that festered in her. “Why me? Why would anyone want to be my friend?”

“Oh, sweetheart...”

It was awful. Nobody deserved to be so untrustworthy of the world and its people.

“Joan, baby,” Aragon took Joan’s smaller, bony hands in hers and held them tightly. “Do you wanna know what I see when I look at you?”

Joan tensed and Aragon could practically hear her brain screaming, “Here it comes! You shouldn’t have trusted her! She’s going to tell you how horrible you are!”

She silenced them herself.

“I see a beautiful young lady.” Aragon told her. Joan’s eyes widened. “You’re so wonderful and sweet and amazing, Joan. You are a blessing. And anyone who gets to be friends with you should be honored to be friends with such an angel.”

Joan blushed and looked away shyly, but she wasn’t able to smother the giddy smile twitching on her lips. She craved compliments and affection, Aragon knew. She was just too modest to admit to anything said highly about her and too anxious to ask for a gentle touch.

“You’re just saying that...” Joan mumbled.

“Don’t be daft, Joan,” Aragon said, nudging her. “It’s all true.”

“Y-you really think I’m an angel?” Joan asked softly.

Aragon smiled and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, which nearly sent her dissolving into tears all over again.

“Of course.”

Joan stared at her in shock before folding into her arms. Aragon held her protectively, stroking her long blonde hair.

“If you’d like,” She said, “I can go talk to Anne and Cathy. Make sure they aren’t trying anything. How does that sound?”

Joan nodded. “I-I like that plan...”

It was settled. Once Joan and Aragon eventually eased apart, Aragon went to go find Anne and Cathy after making Joan was completely okay to be left on her own. When she found the pair, she herded them into their dressing room and promptly began to grill them on their charade.

“We aren’t trying to trick her!” Anne cried.

“Then why are you just now asking to be her friend?” Aragon asked calmly. “Why are you now deciding to be nice to her?”

“I—” Anne’s shoulder’s slumped and she sat back in her chair heavily. “I don’t know, okay? I just— What happened yesterday was awful.”

“Yes, it was,” Aragon said. She glanced momentarily at Cathy and remembered how she had gotten some blood on her.

“We thought that this would be good for her.” Cathy tried. “To get her to be with people and join in on a few things...”

“Make her apart of things?” Aragon guessed.

“Yeah!” Cathy nodded, but deflated when she saw Aragon roll her eyes.

“We aren’t that stupid, Catherine.” Aragon said. “And neither is Joan. She knows who you’re friends with.”

“Do you think I WANT to be cousins with Kitty after what she did yesterday?” Anne said. “Or friends with Jane? And, if it makes anything any better, I’ve downgraded Maggie to a mutual costar.”

Aragon sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I just don’t want Joan to get hurt again.”

“We’re not going to hurt her, Catalina.” Cathy said.

Aragon examined the two of them for a moment and then took a deep breath and folded her hands together in her lap.

“Look me in the eye,” She said, “and tell me that again. Tell me that you will not hurt Joan and that you genuinely want to be her friend.”

Anne looked into Aragon’s dark eyes and said, “We’re not going to hurt Joan.”

Aragon stared back at her for a long time, then snorted a light laugh and leaned back.

“Alright,” She said. “I have a pretty good bullshit detector. I believe you. For now. Don’t make me regret that.”

Anne and Cathy both smiled in relief.

“Thank you, Catalina.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Aragon nodded. “I’ll go get Joan.”

She retrieved the girl and, after explaining to her that Anne and Cathy weren’t going to hurt her, left her alone with them to finally go talk to the prop master.

“Hey,” Anne said, smiling gently at the girl now sitting across from her.

“Hi,” Joan whispered. She doesn’t have her head raised, but she kept glancing up at Anne and Cathy.

Anne thought for a moment. She wasn’t quite sure what to talk about with Joan. She didn’t want to bring up the conversation with Aragon because the extra layer of “we’re not gonna hurt you” may seem a bit suspicious. Luckily, however, her girlfriend quickly jumped in to fill the silence before it got too awkward.

“When did you learn to play the piano?” Cathy asked.

Joan laced a finger around the chain of her cross necklace and tugged on it. “Umm— the house w-we moved into had one. I-it’s kinda old, but...” She shrugged a little. “I like it.”

“Well, you’re very good,” Cathy said. “Your playing is beautiful.”

Joan blushed. “Thank you.” She mumbled.

She tugged harder on the chain and Anne noticed that it was starting cut into her skin.

“Joan—” She stood up and walked over to her purse, fishing out a squishy green parrot that she would often use as a stress ball. She sat back down and offered it to Joan. “You’re hurting your fingers, sweetheart. Play with this.”

Joan stared at it, then glanced up at Anne’s encouraging eyes and Cathy’s smiling face. Slowly, so slowly, she untangled her finger from where it was coiled her necklace and tentatively took the parrot. She squeezed it in her hands a few times, a tiny smile forming on her pale lips.

“Do you like it?” Anne asked.

Joan nodded shyly.

“Why don’t you keep it then?”

Joan’s head whipped up comically fast and her bug-eyed expression would have been even funnier if it weren’t for what the reaction implied.

“Oh, M-Miss Anne, I-I can’t—” Joan stammered, and yet she was still glancing down at the parrot as if it were the most valuable thing in the world.

“I insist, Joan.” Anne said. “You need it a lot more than I do. And I don’t use it that often, anyone. The poor little guy is probably so lonely in my purse.”

“Surrounded by gum wrappers,” Cathy added with a titter.

“Hsst.” Anne elbowed her playfully. She looked forward when she heard Joan shuffling in her seat and saw the girl taking some money out of her back pocket.

“I-it’s not much— I was gonna use it to ride the bus home, b-but—”

Oh Joan. Anne thought sadly. Oh you poor, sweet child. You WOULD give up the money that’ll get you home safely for a squishy toy parrot I stole from the lost-and-found in college.

“No no, put that away.” Anne said hurriedly and Joan stopped, tilting her head at her like SHE was the crazy one.

“Think of it as a gift.” Anne said. “Have you ever gotten a gift before?”

Joan looked away and Anne frowned, knowing the answer.

“You don’t have to pay me or give me anything, I promise.” Anne assured her.

Joan nodded and put her money away. “Thank you,” She whispered before looking down at the parrot with a look on her face that said she was trying to remember the last time she had been given something. “Thank you.”

“You deserve it, Joan.” Anne said and Cathy nodded in agreement at her side.

“I like birds,” Joan said softly. She turned the parrot over in her hands, examining every inch of it. Despite it being old and a little patchy in some areas, she seemed to think it was the most amazing thing in the entire world.

“Do you?” Cathy inquired. “What’s your favorite?”

“Snowy owls.” Joan said, smiling a little more. “Or barn owls. I just like owls. But ducks are cute, too.”

“They are.” Cathy agreed.

“Do you have any pets?” Anne asked.

Joan shook her head with an adorably grumpy expression. “No,” She said. “Mama says animals are filthy, but I really like them! I wish I could get a cat or just a fish...” Her shoulders slumped and she gazed at the parrot longingly, like she was hoping it would magically come to life and be her new pet.

“Maybe you will one day!” Cathy said. “You never know.”

Joan nodded. “Maybe.”

Anne and Cathy talked with Joan for twenty more minutes, slowly but surely easing her out of her shell, before she said she had to go before she missed her bus home. She waved to them goodbye, offering a rare, nearly-full smile before disappearing out the dressing room door.

—

“Mama!” Joan called. “I’m home!”

She hung her bag up neatly on one of the hooks in the front room and darted into the kitchen, not even glancing at the crucifix. Her mind was too focused on getting out ingredients from the cabinets.

Anne might have said she didn’t want payment, but she had to give her something. Cathy and Aragon, too. She couldn’t just get so much kindness for free.

“What kind of cookies do you think they would like?” She asked her new parrot, which she placed on the kitchen island. “Snickerdoodles or oatmeal?”

She didn’t get a reply, but she pretended in her head that it responded to her.

“Snickerdoodles!” She nodded. “You’re right! Everyone likes those!”

She excitedly took out the cinnamon and sugar, grinning in a way that she hadn’t done in forever. But who could blame her? She had friends!

#carrie au #six the musical #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfiction #six fanfic #catherine of aragon #katherine howard #jane seymour #anne boleyn #maggie on the guitar #catherine parr #joan on the keys #parrlyn #parrleyn #boleyn x parr #parr x boleyn #god forgive us all

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verilyruth · 4 years ago

Text

Rules of Courtship

(Part 3 of A New Beginning series)

AO3

Summary: Katherine's parents aren't sold on this new dating thing. They prefer traditional courtship, which means that David has less than twenty-four hours to prepare to meet the Pulitzers. Katherine's also having some new experiences and her eyes opened with the help of Jack and her older brother.

Pairings: Davey/Katherine

“He’s more��traditional than your parents are, David.”

“But we’ve only been out once!”

Katherine shrugged.

“That’s his point, I think. This is all new to him. This is how Ralph did it and so he thinks this is how I should too.”

Her father had been on her about courting. He knew she was seeing someone but not who it was. Dating was new to Joseph Pulitzer, to say the least. He was used to the traditional style of courtship which often involved families being around. In his defense, dates were a relatively new phenomenon and he’d been married for over twenty years.

“I don’t see why it’s a big deal. Just come to my house for dinner and have a drink with my father and Ralph.”

“I’m not eighteen.”

“He doesn’t care.”

“I…Katherine, I don’t know,” David said. She was getting agitated. What was the big deal?

“Why does it matter? You’re calling it off because you don’t want to have a meal with my father?”

“What? No! No, Katherine, I swear.” He looked panicked. “I’ll…I’ll come. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you think I wouldn’t do it if it means that much to you.”

Katherine rolled her eyes.

“It doesn’t mean that much to me, it’s about my parents.” David nodded. He looked upset and she couldn’t help but grab his hand. “Although it means a lot that you would be willing to do it for me.”

He smiled and brought her hand to his lips.

“Of course. So when would this be?”

“Tomorrow?”

“What?” David looked panicked again.

“I’m sorry!” Katherine defended. “I was trying to get out of it and then I didn’t want to tell you because I thought you’d freak out.”

“You were right,” Jack said. He was sitting on a windowsill in the main room of the lodging house, reading the paper.

“Shut up, Jack.”

“Katherine…I’ll come but can you please tell me earlier in the future? For big things in general. I would’ve liked more time to prepare to meet your parents.”

“You’ve already met my father.”

“Yeah, when you yelled at him and called him a fool, remember?”

“Shut up, Jack,” she said again.

“You’ll be fine, okay? Ralph likes you-”

“I met Ralph for all of thirty seconds.”

“I’ve told him about you. And my other siblings will like you too and so will my mother.”

“Yeah, but it’s your father he’s scared of.”

“Shut up, Jack.” David ordered. “I’m just worried he’s going to take one look at me, realize who I am, and tell me I can’t see you anymore.” He looked legitimately nervous and she did her best to soothe him. She put her hand on his arm, caressing it.

“I don’t care about my parents’ approval.”

“If that were true we wouldn’t even be doing this,” he pointed out with a sigh.

Katherine didn’t have a response. She pulled him into a hug instead.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want you to feel all this pressure. But I promise, even if he says that, I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

He nodded.

“Okay.”

That night, she was sitting with her brother in the parlor, drinking what was arguably too much wine.

“So how’d he take it?” Ralph asked, switching the subject away from his work. She glared at him over the brim of her glass as she took a too big sip. “That well, huh?”

“He wasn’t exactly thrilled.”

“Can you blame him?”

“No, but it would’ve been nice if he was super excited for some reason.”

Ralph rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“But he’s coming, yes?”

“He’s coming. He’ll be here at six.”

“He’s probably going crazy, poor guy.”

“What?” she asked, concerned. “Why would he be going crazy?”

“Well, you don’t show up to the house of the girl you’re trying to court empty handed.”

Katherine wasn’t sure why that was relevant.

“Okay?”

“Seriously, Kitty? He’s one of the newsies.”

“So?”

“How much spare money do you think he has?”

Being told that was like a blow to the chest. Obviously Katherine knew David didn’t have much money but the idea that she had stressed him out about that without it occurring to her made her feel incredibly guilty.

“Oh.”

“Don’t be like that,” he said softly. “Come here.” She leaned against his side and continued to drink. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

“No, because either he shows up with something and he’s spent money or he doesn’t and he looks bad.”

“Maybe you should mention to Mother and Fa-”

“No!”

“Yeah, as soon as I started saying it I realized it was a bad idea.”

“Should I talk to him during my lunch break tomorrow?”

Ralph shook his head.

“No, you’ll hurt his pride.”

“David isn’t like that.”

“Every man is like that a little bit. Even if he isn’t, he’ll be mortified, won’t he?”

“I guess. Jack did say he was upset on his first day when he tried to buy him extra papers.”

“There you go. But talk to Jack if you’re so worried. He knows David better than I do, obviously, so maybe he’ll disagree.”

She nodded. That sounded like a good solution. The problem was getting Jack alone when he was supposed to be selling with David.

“Okay.”

“Don’t worry about that. Worry about how many well meaning but offensive things Mother is going to say. We can take bets if you- ow!”

“Jack!” Katherine whisper-yelled. “Jack Kelly!”

Jack turned around and startled at Katherine, who was standing in the dark alley.

“Kath? What the hell are you-”

“Listen! I was waiting for David to leave. When will he be back?”

“Like ten minutes? He went to make sure Les isn’t dead.”

“Okay, good.” She stepped out onto the sidewalk and brushed off her skirt.

“What the hell is going on? Why are you hiding in alleys?”

“One alley, not multiple,” she countered. “I needed to talk to you without David knowing.”

“About what?”

“About tonight.”

Jack rolled his eyes.

“I’ve spent the last four hours talking about tonight. He’s coming, I promise.”

“Four hours?”

“He’s like one big ball of anxiety but that ain’t new. What about tonight?”

Katherine sighed.

“I should’ve realized yesterday, but is David worried about bringing something? Ralph mentioned it and I thought that maybe-”

“Are you kidding me?” Jack rolled his eyes again and laughed humorlessly. “Of course he is!”

She felt a pit in her stomach and all she wanted was to give David a hug.

“What can I do to help?”

“Nothing. He’s got it covered, Ace, don’t worry about it.”

“But-”

“Seriously. I won’t tell him you asked but he’s my best friend and I don’t like lying to him so don’t put me in the middle, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks anyway, Jack.” She tried to leave but he stepped in her way.

“You need to relax too. There ain’t nothing you can do about it and there wouldn’t have been last night either.”

“Yeah. We just have to get through tonight and then-”

“What are you talking about?”

“What do you mean?”

Jack looked exasperated and borderline frustrated. He had the look on his face that Katherine wore when she listened to her coworkers talk about suffrage. It was a look that said “you’re an absolute idiot.”

“I mean, that it ain’t just tonight. He’s not gonna suddenly not be poor tomorrow. He’s gonna have to figure this out on every date and every time he sees your folks.” He must have noticed how distraught she was because he lightheartedly added, “Romance is expensive, Plumber. Don’t you remember that song Medda sang the day we met?”

“Seriously?” she hissed in Ralph’s ear. “This is the one time he comes home before ten and he’s being impatient with us? He’s the one who said six!”

“Relax, Kitty, it’s only quarter to. He’ll be here. Father can get over it. And you don’t have to whisper; there’s no way they can hear us.”

The two of them were waiting in the foyer with an annoyed footman who clearly wanted them gone, but Katherine wasn’t leaving David alone when he came in and Ralph wasn’t leaving Katherine to freak out by herself.

There was a knock at the door and the footman went to answer it.

“Uh, hello,” she heard David say, “my name is David and I’m here to Mr. and Mrs. Pulitzer and their daughter Ms. Pulitzer?”

Katherine smiled at his formality. It was a little bit adorable. He was let in and he handed a rather expensive looking bottle of whiskey to the footman and said, “this is a gift for Mr. and Mrs. Pulitzer.”

Where had that come from? She didn’t give herself time to think about it because once the footman was out of sight, Katherine pulled David into a hug.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course. These are for you.” He handed her the bouquet of flowers he had behind his back. She smiled again and kissed his cheek.

Ralph cleared his throat.

“You know I don’t care, but technically you’re not supposed to be touching at all.”

David nodded.

“I know. It’s good to see you.”

“You as well. Are you ready to face the music, David?”

“No, but I don’t exactly have a choice.”

Katherine squeezed his hand one last time before letting go and following her brother’s lead. David looked ridiculously nervous but there wasn’t much she could do about it. As they walked towards the sitting room, the volume of the chatter and laughter increased.

It was a full house tonight. All five of Katherine’s siblings were there, as well as Ralph’s fiancée, Margaret; their uncle, Albert; their parents; and the children’s nanny, Mary. Katherine suspected her parents had done this on purpose to intimidate her date. She would have told David if she had known ahead of time but she hadn’t, which was probably the reason he looked so sick as they stepped into the room.

“Ah, Katherine, darling,” her mother said, “introduce us to your young man.”

When Ralph stepped out of the way so that people could see David, Pulitzer froze.

“You.”

“Father, please, be civil,” Ralph said tersely.

“I’m sorry, do you know this young man, Joseph?” Mrs. Pulitzer asked. “What’s your name?”

“David Jacobs, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for having me in your lovely home.”

Pulitzer didn’t say anything as David was introduced one by one to each family member, he just stood still.

“Joseph,” Mrs. Pulitzer said, as David stood awkwardly, waiting for a greeting before sitting down, as was proper. Katherine tried not to be too proud of him for staying so composed but it was hard. “What’s wrong?”

He ignored her and turned to Katherine.

“Did you do this to incite me, Katherine?”

“What? Of course not! I like David because I like David. Believe it or not, not every second of my life is spent trying to find ways to frustrate you.”

“Too many of them are,” he grumbled. “Fine.” He walked towards David and shook his hand aggressively. “I trust you’re well, Mr. Jacobs.”

“Yes, sir, and yourself?”

“Fine.” He sat and Ralph invited David to sit in between himself and Uncle Albert. Katherine really wished that he was allowed to sit next to her instead. She wanted to give him a kiss on the forehead and make him feel better.

Maybe she was projecting, though. It was entirely possible that she felt worse than David did at the moment. After all, he had fought her father on a much more public stage than this sitting room and had come out on top.

“How is it that you know David, Father?” Constance asked.

“David sells my papers. Don’t you, boy?”

His wife glared at him.

“Yes, sir, I do,” David said proudly, although Katherine could tell it was mostly an act.

“Oh,” he mother said, “so…you’re a newsboy then?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“David’s also a student at St. George’s,” Katherine interjected.

“Are you?”

“Yes, ma’am, I am. Right now I’m taking some time off to support my family but I hope to graduate at the end of this year.”

“What is it that you want to do?” Uncle Albert asked. “Any ambitions?”

“I’m not entirely sure yet, sir.” While that was technically true, Katherine knew he had ideas of what he wanted to do, neither of which it was likely her father would approve of. David thought he might want to be a labor organizer of some kind, but there was zero money in that.

His other idea, the one he had had for a long time, was that he might want to be a rabbi. He wasn’t sure that he did anymore, or so he told Katherine. She knew that her father would eventually realize just how brilliant David was and that when he did, he would be upset if he didn’t spend his life as a writer or politician or mathematician or something of the like.

“That’s certainly a twist,” her father commented. “The lady with career aspirations and the boy without.”

“I have aspirations, sir, I’m just not sure through which career I’d like to channel them.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Katherine saw both Edith and Ralph make little tick marks in the air that, had she not been looking, she wouldn’t have noticed. They had told her earlier that they would be keeping score to see who won the night: their father or David. Katherine thought they were ridiculous.

“And how did you meet our dear Katherine?” Mrs. Pulitzer asked him.

“During the newsies strike, ma’am. She was invaluable to the cause and it was an honor to have her write about it.”

Pulitzer huffed but Constance spoke before he could say anything.

“Can one of you tell us the story? I want to hear how you met.”

Katherine looked to David.

“The floor’s yours, miss.”

She almost choked on nothing when he called her that. She should have been expecting it, she supposed. The boys often mocked David about the formal rules he had had to follow at St. George’s. It made sense that he would have been schooled in etiquette.

“Well,” she began hesitantly, “I met David’s friend Jack a few days beforehand. The strike began and when I learned he was their leader I went to find him and I met David.”

Constance looked to David inquisitively.

“Newsies have leaders?”

“Uh, yes, miss,” he answered a little awkwardly. “I was surprised to learn how structured the newsboys and girls of New York are. The person Ms. Pulitzer was referring to, Jack, is the leader for lower Manhattan and the president of the union which is citywide.”

“Are you a leader?”

“No, miss, not really.”

“He’s being modest,” Ralph said, clapping him on the shoulder. “David’s the union’s vice president, right?”

“Um…yes, sir, technically.”

“Well are you or aren’t you?” Pulitzer asked.

“Yes, but there’s politics involved, sir.”

“Yes,” Katherine took over for David, who sent her a thankful look, “like David said, it’s surprising how structured it is and how complicated.”

“How does it work?” Her father suddenly seemed curious.

“Fath-”

“I’m asking Mr. Jacobs. How does it work?”

“I…I’m sorry but I can’t discuss that with you, sir.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m loyal to the union.”

“So not to my daughter then?” Katherine was going to scream at her father later for putting David through this.

“I’m very loyal to your daughter, Mr. Pulitzer, but it’s not her who’s asking.” There was a moment of tension (in which Ralph and Edith each made another tick mark). Luckily, the dinner bell rang.

In the dining room, David pulled out Katherine’s chair for her and once she was seated, he sat between Ralph and Joe.

The impression Katherine had gotten was that this would be a dinner that David happened to be attending, but it was quickly becoming clear that it was more of a dinner about David or, more accurately, about interrogating him.

“Tell us about your family, David,” Uncle Albert requested.

“There isn’t much to say, sir.”

“Nonsense. What does your father do?”

“He worked in a factory until recently.”

“But not now?”

“He was injured,” David explained.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” her mother said. “When was this?”

“About three months ago.”

“Is he any better?”

David smiled tightly.

“Some days are better than others.”

“So, he didn’t study then?” her father asked. “He’s uneducated?”

Katherine could practically feel David bristling. Most of the adults at the table gave her father pointed looks.

“He’s educated. He was a teacher back in Poland.”

“You’re immigrants?” Margaret asked. “When did you move here?”

“Almost ten years ago, miss.”

There was an awkward silence

“Why?” Joe asked, completely unaware.

“Let’s move on,” Ralph suggested. “What type of teacher, David?”

“Religious. He was the melamed in our village.”

“David’s mother was a surgeon’s assistant,” Katherine said, earning herself a glare. David was probably worried that her family wouldn’t approve and while outwardly that may have been true for some of them, they would be secretly impressed.

“Was she? Fascinating,” her mother said.

“Do you have any siblings?” Joe asked. “Because if you don’t you can take some of mine.” Her parents tried to look stern but everyone else laughed.

“I have two,” David said. “A sister and a brother.”

“They’re both great,” Katherine told her family.

“You’ve met them?” her uncle asked. “Have you been to Mr. Jacobs’ home, then?” He looked like he was about to lose it.

“No,” Katherine assured. “Les is a newsboy and Sarah helped with the strike. So no, I haven’t been. Yet.”

“He’ll be fine, Katherine,” Margaret told her as they sat in the sitting room after dinner, “Ralph will make sure of it.”

David was in her father’s study with her brother and uncle, and Katherine was sitting with the other women and her younger brothers. She could picture the tense look on David’s face. He was likely miserable and it was all because of her.

“He’s very charming, dear,” her mother said comfortingly.

“Yeah,” she replied distractedly. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

“Oh, you know your father. He’s probably boring him with business and-”

“He’s not going to talk to David about business, Mother.” She turned to her. “What do you think of him?”

“I already said that I think he’s charming.”

“So is President McKinley but you don’t like him.”

Her mother sighed.

“He’s very sweet, Katherine, and clearly he cares about you a lot, but…darling, he’s penniless.”

“I don’t care about that. It’s not like we’re exactly lacking in funds.”

“It’s inappropriate to marry outside of your social class.”

Katherine and David hadn’t discussed marriage yet. Why would they have? They’d been together for less than two months. She knew, however, that courtship usually revolved around the idea of getting married and so it made sense that her mother would be thinking about it.

“Who cares? I’ve met the type of men you’d prefer me to marry and I’ve been mingling with them my whole life. The handful of people you and father expect me to choose between…David’s better then all of them put together.”

“Katherine-”

“He’s smarter, too.”

“You don’t know that.”

“He’s seventeen and he and a bunch of friends beat Father, Reid, and Hearst.”

“Katherine!” Her mother looked scandalized.

“Well, they did,” Edith mumbled.

“I get that you have concerns but I’ve already told you how I feel.”

“And how’s that?”

“That I’ll marry who I want, when I want, or I won’t marry at all.”

“Marriage is wonderful, sweetheart. It’s very rewarding and-”

“I’m sure it can be with the right person but none of the men you like for me are.”

“Then we’ll find someone else.”

Katherine shook her head adamantly.

“No. I like David.”

“Why, because he’d let you pursue your career?”

“He wouldn’t let me do anything. We see each other as equals.”

“Would he convert?”

“Did Father?”

“Would you be expected to convert?”

“I don’t know! Look, Mother, we haven’t even begun to discuss marriage. We’ve gone out together once and we’ve known each other for less than three months.”

“People marry in less than that.”

“Good for them. That isn’t what I want. Besides, he has to graduate first.”

“That’s another thing, Katherine. He’s not even graduated!”

“Neither was Ralph when we met,” Margaret pointed out. Katherine gestured to her.

“He wasn’t graduated from college, Margaret, there’s a difference. Does he plan on attending college?”

“I don’t know. Mother, I have to get to know him better. Can we just drop it for now? The whole marriage thing?”

“If you’re going to be courting him then you should talk about marriage.”

Katherine rolled her eyes.

“It’s different now.”

“Courting is a much better way to find a relationship. Katherine,” she said with a sigh, “you’re my daughter and I love you dearly. I only want what’s best for you.”

Katherine got up and went to sit next to her mother, taking her hands in her own.

“I know that, Mother, and I love you too. But just because it’s what you think is best for me doesn’t mean it is. If…if it makes you feel any better, I can envision myself having a future with David.”

“Do you love him?”

Katherine smiled.

“It’s too early for that, but I think I could. He’s…Mother, he’s the most amazing boy I’ve ever met. I don’t love him yet but I love things about him.”

“Like what?”

“He’s kind and generous and sweet and thoughtful and selfless to a fault. I know what Father expects for me in a husband but just because he isn’t rich doesn’t mean he can’t be those things. He’s brilliant enough to have gotten a scholarship to St. George’s. If Father is so concerned about the intelligence of who I’m with then David passes that test with flying colors.”

“That’s true,” Margaret said. “He kept up very well with the boys’ political talk and he seems to be an excellent conversationalist as well.”

“See?” Katherine gestured to Margaret. “I’m not the only person who thinks so.”

Her mother scrunched up her face as if she was thinking very hard

“You’d want to go by the name Jacobs instead of Pulitzer?”

“I already don’t go by Pulitzer professionally.”

“Where would you live, hmm? In a tenement? In the slums?”

“Mother, I told you I wasn’t thinking about marriage yet.”

“Well, you have to be! Do you want me to help you with your father or not?”

Katherine perked up.

“You’re okay with David?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea but he’s a lovely boy and I know that nothing I could say would dissuade you. I’ll give you two more months, and then you have to at least discuss marriage with him.”

“But, Mother, he-”

“Deal?” she repeated, leaving no room for argument. Katherine sighed but acquiesced. “Good. Once you do that I’ll talk to your father.”

“He would be angry about it for at least the next month even if I never saw David again, you know that.”

“And I’ll defend him but I won’t fight for his blessing until you-”

“I don’t care about his blessing,” Katherine argued.

“You do. Even if you don’t care about his opinion, he’s the one providing for you.”

“I have a job.”

“You think you’d be able to live like this on your salary?”

Katherine didn’t say anything. Margaret did her best to move the conversation along but the other girls only wanted to hear about David.

“Come on, Kitty, what was the first thing he said to you?” Constance asked.

“I don’t remember.”

“Why not?”

“Because there were about a million other boys in the room and I didn’t know I’d end up being interested in him so I didn’t pay that much attention to memorizing it.”

“You’re no fun. Does he tell you you’re pretty?”

“He has. And I think he’s pretty too.”Her sisters giggled.

When her mother left the room briefly, Edith looked around conspiratorially and asked, “Has he kissed you?”

“That’s an inappropriate question, Edith,” Margaret scolded. “That’s not our business. And don’t let your mother hear you asking it.”

Joe rolled his eyes.

“I don’t get it! Why would anybody want to kiss anybody else?”

“You’ll get it when you’re a little bit older. I didn’t want to kiss anybody at your age either, Joe.”

“And now you want to kiss my brother? Gross.”

“Hey, that’s not-” Margaret cut herself off when the men returned to the room.

“Say goodbye to Mr. Jacobs, everyone,” her father said sternly. When they did, Ralph offered to walk with him to the door so that Katherine could go too. Her father didn’t look happy but he didn’t comment.

In the foyer, Katherine wrapped her arms around him.

“Thank you, David. I’m sorry you had to sit through that.”

“That’s okay,” he said, “I don’t mind.”

“Did my father break your soul in there?” she asked.

Ralph and David chuckled.

“Actually, Father wholeheartedly approved of his choice in whiskey.”

Katherine stared at David questioningly.

“Where did you get that, by the way?”

“Denton has an absurd amount of alcohol in his apartment.” She laughed. “Thank you for inviting me. I hope I didn’t embarrass you too badly.”

Ralph turned away to give them some semblance of privacy.

“Oh, sweetheart, you didn’t embarrass me at all.”

“Really?” He breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, good. Do you think your family liked me?”

“My siblings and Margaret loved you and I think my mother tried her best not to, but did anyway.”

“And your uncle? I’m not even going to aim for your father.”

“I can never tell what he thinks but don’t worry, he’s moving back to Europe soon, so who cares?”

He laughed.

“I should probably go so I’m not chased out.” David took her hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed it softly. “Thank you for everything.”

“Thank you. Can I come by your selling spot tomorrow and see you?”

“Please do. Good night.”

“Good night.”

He said good night to Ralph and left.

“How did it go in the study?” she asked him.

“It went about as well as can be expected. Father tried to embarrass him and David didn’t let him. He’s quick, that boy of yours. But he was also respectful so Father can’t say anything on that front.”

“I’m glad. That’s a relief.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen someone who has clearly never been in high society before be so versed in the ridiculous etiquette of courtship,” he said, walking with her back to their family. “I know he was taught it at school, but still. Most of the other boys have occasion to use it.”

“Now he does too, if our father doesn’t disown me first. So, yes? You think it was a success overall?”

“Well, I have to confer with Edith but by my count-”

“Shut up.”

#newsies #newsies fanfiction #a new beginning series #katherine pulitzer #katherine plumber #david jacobs #davey jacobs #davey/katherine #daverine #stella writes stuff

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calamity-bean · 6 years ago

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“what is it worth? oh, my soul”

re: my last gifset, I seriously cannot overstate how I shrieked when the same music that played over Kitty’s funeral procession started playing over Margaret’s walk to the gallows. It’s such an evocative song even on its own, and I have so many feelings about the show’s choice to parallel those particular scenes.

What is Margaret’s soul worth? What was Kitty’s? This season -- indeed, much of this series as a whole -- has been largely driven by the theme of whether justice is possible for the marginalized, the underprivileged, the poor. Every Spartan victim; every subject of abuse; and though the theme intersects with many characters, if any one of them has been held up as an emblem of all of it, it’s Kitty Carter. Her soul was surely as good and kindhearted as anyone’s, yet for her poverty and her profession and her supposed lack of morals, most of society values her at practically nothing. Almost every episode this season has asked whether it’s even POSSIBLE to ever get justice for her, and thus far, every attempt at justice has failed.

Margaret’s soul is arguably a somewhat different matter. She is, on the whole, a likable and sympathetic person, yes -- but she has made brutal choices and done disturbing things and, even with good intentions, inflicted cruelties on the ones she loves. The point that’s been brought up again and again about her this season is that her soul has blood on it. “There’s no blame on your doorstep, though, is there, Margaret? Only bodies. You’re choking on guilt. There's that many corpses clinging to your skirts, you’re starting to stink.”

I don’t really agree with Will laying the blame for those deaths on Margaret -- even the murder she actually committed was very understandable -- but I think it undeniable that Margaret herself has been feeling deeply responsible for the deaths or, in Mary’s case, for how she took advantage of the death. She approaches the gallows with fear, yes, but also with an attitude of ... absolution. Like she thinks this is what her soul deserves.

Does Hunt saving Margaret make up for his failure to get justice for Kitty? Does one’s survival balance the scales for the other’s death? The musical parallel might tempt one into viewing it that way, but no; no life is a substitute for another, and anyway, by 2.07, I think the season has made it clear that justice -- while a good thing when it can truly be attained -- is a flawed, complicated, nebulous and biased concept that can’t guarantee that ANYONE’S soul will be valued for even a fraction of what it’s worth. How does one even measure that worth, anyway? And does the measure of that worth really matter? Kitty’s murderers should be punished; I want them to be ... But that might never happen. And even if it does, it’s like Fanny said: nothing would change for Kitty or daughter. Kitty will still be dead.

Before being renamed in Kitty’s honor, Fanny’s own daughter was named Mercy. In 2.07, I think that mercy, more so than justice, is the point. Mercy is more nuanced than justice, more focused on helping the living rather than those who can no longer be helped. Margaret is guilty, and justice as the law defines it would see her hanged. But mercy looks at her bloodied, battered, guilt-ridden, imperfect soul and affirms that yes; of course it's worth something; a worth that cannot be quantified or balanced on a scale.

#what the heck kinda weirdo bs crit essay did i just write #harlots hulu #margaret wells #kitty carter #harlots meta #my meta #harlots spoilers #harlots 207 #op #harlots

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loveismyrevolution · 7 years ago

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Did we talk about this parallel...?

TST

TGG

(I don’t know if anyone talked about this earlier, but it just striked me while rewatching S4... my own ramlings an thoughts under the cut...)

So what do we have? Facts first...

The first shot is of the outside of the Wellsborough estate in TST when Sherlock discovers where the Thatcher bust was smashed.

The case: The “mysterious” death of Charlie Wellsborough, who wanted to surprise his father at his birthday party. But in place of being in Nepal as his parents expected, he happened to die while being hidden inside his car right outside their family home. And besides that it is about the missing Thatcher bust, which in the end leads Sherlock to the A.G.R.A.-device and with that to Mary...

The second shot is of the outside of Andrew West’s flat in TGG, when John was talking to Westies fiancée Lucy!

The case: The case of missing Andrew West, who had to take care of the (top secret) Bruce Partington plans, but fails to protect them and gets killed (by accident) by his brother in law, who wanted to take hold of the plans to use them for his own goods... Andrew is accused to be a traitor, when he is actually a victim here and is been killed instead of having committed suicide. And beside that the Bruce-Partington-device leads Sherlock to the meeting at the pool with Moriarty...

But also the conversations connected with the shots are very interessting and are showing certain parallels:

after the first shot (TST):

JOHN: What’s so important about a broken bust of Margaret Thatcher? SHERLOCK (straightening up): Can’t stand it. Never can. There’s a loose thread in the world. JOHN: Yeah, doesn’t mean you have to pull on it. SHERLOCK: What kind of a life would that be? Besides, I have the strangest feeling. (He has a brief flash of James Moriarty looking into the camera over his right shoulder.) JIM: Miss me? (Sherlock shakes the thought away and stands up, pointing to the black cab parked nearby as he walks towards it.) SHERLOCK: That’s mine. You two take a ... bus. JOHN (laughing in disbelief): Why? SHERLOCK: I need to concentrate, and I don’t want to hit you. (He gets in and tells the cabbie his destination.) SHERLOCK: The Mall, please.

Where did we hear that earlier?? It was in TRF...

DONOVAN: Brilliant work you did, finding those kids from just a footprint. It’s really amazing. SHERLOCK: Thank you. DONOVAN (pointedly): Unbelievable. (Sherlock hesitates momentarily, then continues on. She watches him go with a thoughtful expression. Outside shortly afterwards, John waits for Sherlock to join him and then looks down the street.) JOHN: Ah. (He raises his hand to hail the approaching taxi. As the boys walk to the edge of the kerb, John looks round to Sherlock.) JOHN: You okay? SHERLOCK: Thinking. (The taxi pulls up at the kerb.) SHERLOCK: This is my cab. You get the next one. JOHN: Why? SHERLOCK: You might talk. (He gets in and closes the door and the taxi pulls away. John stares after him in disbelief, then sighs.)

This is the conversation directly after Donovan hinted her disbelief in Sherlock, which started all the doubts in his investigations and deduction and lead to his discredit and him accused to be a fraud!

And also here the conversation after the second shot (in TGG) is quite interessting

WESTIE’S FLAT. John is sitting on the sofa beside Andrew West’s fiancée. He has been there long enough for her to have made them mugs of something which are on the coffee table in front of them. Lucy is upset throughout the ensuing conversation. LUCY: He wouldn’t. He just wouldn’t. JOHN (gently): Well, stranger things have happened. LUCY: Westie wasn’t a traitor. It’s a horrible thing to say! JOHN: I’m sorry, but you must understand that’s ... LUCY: That’s what they think, isn’t it, his bosses? JOHN (nodding): He was a young man, about to get married. He had debts ... LUCY: Everyone’s got debts; and Westie wouldn’t wanna clear them by selling out his country. JOHN: Can you, um, can you tell me exactly what happened that night? LUCY: We were having a night in, just watching a DVD. (She smiles at the memory.) LUCY: He normally falls asleep, you know, but he sat through this one. He was quiet. (She becomes tearful.) LUCY: Out of the blue, he said he just had to go and see someone. JOHN: And you’ve no idea who? (Shaking her head, Lucy begins to cry.)

The first part about Westie being accused to be a traitor is drawing a direct line to the conversation of the first pic... Sherlock being accused to be a fraud...

and the last part strongly reminded me of some other scenes:

1. TGG just before he met Moriarty at the pool

(John has closed the lid of his laptop and now stands up.)

JOHN: I won’t be in for tea. I’m going to Sarah’s. There’s still some of that risotto left in the fridge. SHERLOCK (his eyes still fixed on the TV): Mm! (John stops at the door.) JOHN: Uh, milk. We need milk. SHERLOCK: I’ll get some. JOHN (turning back with a look of disbelief on his face): Really?! SHERLOCK: Really. JOHN: And some beans, then? SHERLOCK (still not looking away from the TV): Mm. (John hesitates, still surprised, but then nods and walks away. Sherlock continues to gaze at the TV until he hears the downstairs door open and close, then he picks up his computer notebook from where it was tucked down beside him. Putting it on his lap and opening the lid, he stares at the message box on The Science of Deduction website before starting to type. Found. The Bruce-Partington plans. Please collect. He lifts his eyes in thought for a moment, then quirks a small smile before returning to his typing. The Pool. Midnight. He sends the message, then closes the lid, gazing thoughtfully into the distance.)

2. TRF after Sherlock and John left Kitty’s flat and he realised what Moriarty was up to

SHERLOCK: He’s been sowing doubt into people’s minds for the last twenty-four hours. There’s only one thing he needs to do to complete his game, and that’s to ... (He stops dead. John, who has been rifling through the folder, looks up at his friend, who is turned away from him.) JOHN: Sherlock? SHERLOCK: Something I need to do. JOHN: What? Can I help? SHERLOCK: No – on my own. (He briskly walks away. John watches him, sighing, then looks down at the papers again. He looks up and down the road and then apparently decides where he needs to go and heads off in the opposite direction.)

and also

3. TRF at Barts when he lures John away to meet Moriarty on the roof

SHERLOCK: What is it? JOHN: Paramedics. Mrs Hudson – she’s been shot. SHERLOCK: What? How? JOHN (frantically): Well, probably one of the killers you managed to attract ... Jesus. Jesus. She’s dying, Sherlock. Let’s go. (He turns towards the door.) SHERLOCK (disinterestedly): You go. I’m busy. (John turns back towards him, his face appalled.) JOHN: Busy? SHERLOCK: Thinking. I need to think. JOHN: You need to ...? Doesn’t she mean anything to you? You once half killed a man because he laid a finger on her. SHERLOCK (shrugging): She’s my landlady. JOHN (furiously): She’s dying ... (He flails a hand in front of himself in utter disbelief at Sherlock’s attitude.) JOHN: You machine. (He looks down, shaking his head.) JOHN: Sod this. Sod this. (He heads towards the door.) You stay here if you want, on your own. SHERLOCK: Alone is what I have. Alone protects me.

(with the last one also pay attention to the similarity to the “cab”-conversations from the first shot!! Like a circle is closing...)

So what do we have? A shot and a following conversation that both point back to two of the most crucial turning points in Sherlock’s developement and his relationship with John: TGG and TRF.

But the two shots are set apart for 2 series, 6 episodes (+special) and about 6 years ....

(sidenote: poor writing and filming when digging up an actual SIMLIAR shot after 6 years??? Really...???)

But what could this mean? What could that scene in TST reflect of the past? Thoughts:

- Charlie Wellsboroug (as often pointed out) acts as a Sherlock mirror in TST, travelling to Nepal, trying to come back to surprise a loved one, which doesn’t play out as expected... both in disguise, Charlie as well as Sherlock... Charlie died unexpectedly of a seizure... did Sherlock also die (inside) the moment he wanted to show up????

- And it happens to be that Lucy (fiancée of Westie) is a strong John mirror! Even their flats look alike! And the reaction of grieving Lucy to the accusations of her fiancée strongly remind me of another grieving someone

- what Lucy mentioned about Westie just dashing of “seeing someone” without telling her is a very common theme of course. This is something Sherlock’s doing constantly as also can be seen in the parallels drawn in the conversations above. But most of all it is the main problem of TRF which influences the whole relationship between Sherlock and John since then! That Sherlock left John without letting him know, without informing him! It left John with the feeling, that Sherlock didn’t trust him and that he failed Sherlock... And we also see this back in the sane episode as the first shot (TST) when John feels not good enough for Sherlock...

- and then again and again one of the main issues of Sherlock: “alone is what protects me”! But then when in the end he really IS alone, he feels what being alone really is about

- and finally the parallel between the devices leading to Moriarty/Mary... to me this such an obvious parallel that the thought strikes me again - IS Mary Moriarty?? Is Mary even real (I doubt it) which would lead to: is S3 even real?

So here is what I think... but of course there is obviously much more to say...:

To me it’s remarkable that all this so strongly points back to TRF. This gives me the feeling that TST is actually about the issues of TRF (even if it supposes to be about Mary and AGRA...). This raises the question.... what is all this really about???

To me it seems as if there is someone dealing with the past! Could it be that Sherlock is still dealing with the consequences his choices in TRF had?? Leaving John behind? Dashing of alone? Facing Moriarty alone? Not trusting John???

And actually that fits very well with the writers own interpretation of S4:

[Season 4] is going to be… I suppose you’d say… consequences. It’s consequences. Chickens come to roost. It’s dark in some ways—obviously it’s great fun and a Sherlock Holmes romp and all that—but there’s a sense of… things… coming back to bite you

Steven Moffat for “entertainment weekly” back in march 2015 (X)

Just that it’s not about the consequences we see on the surface but it’s about consequences with which Sherlock is dealing in his mind experiments, his mind plays he’s setting up to figure things out - Sherlock is in his MP!! It’s metaphoric and in my oppinion it’s actually about TRF....

I would like to hear your thoughts...

@ebaeschnbliah @gosherlocked @monikakrasnorada @isitandwonder @tjlcisthenewsexy @tendergingergirl @sianbrooke @sarahthecoat @221bloodnun @shadow3214 @impatient14

(tell me if you don’t want to be tagged!) thanks to @callie-ariane for all the subscripts

#Sherlock #TST #TGG #TRF #parallels #consequences #EMP #Sherlock is dealing with his past #it's actually about TRF #this are mind experiments #limr

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