#they’ve de-milfed her!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cdyssey · 2 years

Note

if ur still taking prompts, pre-relationship melissa/barbara where barb is getting jealous over mel’s new fling? could be a new teacher who’s a woman as well? thank you! i love how you write them, and your overall voice in your works. thank u for ur brain and ideas and love for these two!!! <3

Augh, thank you for the kind words, Anon!!! ;w; I'm so appreciative.

And, haha, I feel like it's a rite of passage in the Work Wives fandom to pair Melissa with another MILF of choice to make Barbara jealous. <3 My face claim is Alex Kingston. >:)

CW: Grief Mentions, Emotional Infidelity, Suggestive Content

AO3 Link

—

The new art teacher is named Ms. Avery Blackwood, and she just moved from Manhattan to Philly, quietly citing the need to not see her late partner in every sunset.

She mostly worked on commission in the Big Apple, painting murals and large portraits for well-paying clients, but she also did a lot of volunteer work, lending her talents to underfunded schools and women shelters when she could.

But Ava didn’t hire her for this impressive resume—(because that would be bordering on competency, of course)—but rather for the fact that the almost sixty-year old is a Pisces and quote—“damn, that’s kinda hot, not gonna lie”—end quote.

Avery drives a yellow Volkswagen that still has a faded Bernie 2020 sticker on the bumper.

She calls everyone darling and dear and likely has paint splattered across her black overalls at any given time.

She tucks paintbrushes behind her ear and charmingly doesn’t remember that she’s done so in the first place.

But once she’s been told someone's name and attaches it to a face, she never, ever forgets.

And to top it all off, Avery Blackwood, along with these innumerable endearing qualities, is utterly breathtaking—all curly russet hair and pale hazel eyes, curves in gorgeous places, and an English accent delivered in a low, delicious voice. The kids love her for her whimsy and play. Janine’s already adopted her as her newest middle-aged mother.

And Melissa.

Melissa is dating her.

Barbara didn’t realize this crucial fact until precisely yesterday when she was sitting in the lounge, trying her hardest not to stare at the empty seat next to her for well over half-an-hour. The younger teachers had gone to Pizza Hut for lunch, which made the absence of the second grade grade teacher all the more pronounced. A vacancy that was a presence. The ghost of a very alive person. Barbara’s daily crossword puzzle went untouched, her afternoon mug of coffee mostly full, as she mentally combed through the most rational possibilities in her head: Melissa catching up on grades, Melissa trying to get the blasted copier in the office to work, Melissa gone to grab a bite to eat all by her lonesome.

All reasonable and distinct options.

Still.

Barbara had glanced at her phone every few minutes to see if she had received a text confirming any of them, providing an explanation, an excuse, an apology.

Nothing.

Nada.

Zilch.

Just a voicemail from Gerald apologizing because sorry, honey, he’d be home late.

Her husband is always late these days, though. His promotion’s been good for their finances—it even funded their lovely cruise this past summer—but it’s been less conducive to their relationship, disrupting every sturdy habit and rhythm they’ve cultivated together for well over thirty years. He is the indentation on the left side of the bed and the apologetic voicemails he leaves because of it. He is the hasty peck on her cheek before he leaves for work and the untouched coffee mug she instinctively sets next to hers anyway. What he fundamentally isn’t, however, is there, and she’s felt this new distance terribly, like a three-inch incision across her chest. She’s tried to bandage the untenable wound with other things—namely people.

Namely one person.

Namely Melissa.

The two teachers have been spending a lot of time together lately, even out of school—getting their nails done or going to see Saturday matinees or shopping deals on school supplies together at Staples. So she’s gotten used to Melissa being around, has soothed her pathological need for routine because of this immutable fact.

In the absence of Gerald, there has been Melissa.

A constant presence at her shoulder.

Never more than a text or call or short walk down the hall away.

Until yesterday.

Until Avery Blackwood.

At some point, she walked to the window as a preventative measure against impulsively marching to her friend’s classroom and demanding an explanation, and as she peered through the rain-splattered blinds, she saw them.

Melissa and Avery.

They were walking up the stone steps together, holding hands, and Melissa was laughing at a joke that the other woman had clearly just told, her smile impossible to miss even from a distance.

Even from another room.

Even at the ends of this world.

And Barbara’s stomach had clenched unpleasantly where she stood on the tiles, recoiling at the unexpected sight. And she had mechanically walked back to her seat and tried to sit with this feeling as it rose within her, snarling her carefully composed nervous system into disarray. She didn’t want to admit it, but in her heart of hearts—that forbidden tree she scarcely touches—she understood, even then, that this feeling was jealousy.

And it was irrational.

Ugly.

Perhaps even sinful.

Thou shalt not covet thy best friend’s girlfriend.

Because Melissa undoubtedly deserves happiness.

And you already have it.

You are a married, Christian woman.

Barbara has known, for sometime now, that Melissa also dates women—mostly when she was younger and before she’d married Joseph—but now that she’s single again, having broken up with Gary the Vending Machine Guy a few months ago, she’s been getting into the swing of regularly dating again: a man named Thornton who had a Tom Selleck mustache, a woman named Selina who’d worked on a local mayoral campaign, a bartender named Layla.

Barbara has hated all of her friend’s flings for completely valid and totally objective reasons, telling her as much—and in her humble opinion—doing the Lord’s work of helping her to see the proverbial light.

Gary was content to settle, never once trying something new. And while he was nice and funny and good, he took it for granted that Melissa wanted a staid and unchanging lifestyle too.

Thornton, well, he didn’t root for the Eagles, so that was a no-go despite his impressive mustache.

Selina, bless her heart, never stopped talking about politics.

And Layla—mmm, the nerve of her—didn’t care much about politics at all.

But Avery Blackwood, who is impossibly kind and witty and passionate about helping others, is perfect. There is nothing about her to nitpick and everything about her to root for. She’s probably good for Melissa.

Maybe she’s even the one.

And if jealousy was the awful feeling that Barbara had to swallow in that moment, then happiness was the emotion she had to hastily fake, capably simulating it with a porcelain facade of a smile when the two women finally made it into the lounge, still holding hands.

Melissa was self-conscious—as she always was when she was introducing her new partners to Barbara—her cheeks tinged rather pink.

And Barbara had been so perfectly gracious, as she always was when she was meeting Melissa’s partners—arranging her gritted teeth into a bright and pearly smile.

“You two are simply radiant,” she had mused, and it had broken something inside of her to do it.

She could not articulate to herself why.

She could not pray about it to God either.

—

It is Wednesday—the next day—and Barbara is sitting at her desk, savoring her second mug of coffee before the bell rings, when she hears a gentle rapping noise to her left. She looks up and over to see Melissa leaning against her open classroom door, her striking hair a little damp from the rain, spilling over her shoulders in dark, elegant waves.

“Hey, you,” she smirks, huffing a little, her cheeks flushed. Apparently, she’d jogged here, and the overall effect of all this—her wet hair and rosy face, her casual posture, the way the top two buttons of her shirt are carelessly undone, the vee-shaped divot suggesting the ample curves of those smooth, rolling—

—does nothing for Barbara.

Obviously.

“Hey, yourself,” she rasps hoarsely and hastily takes a throat-clearing sip of her coffee. Her damn sinuses. They always get to her at this time of the year. “What’s got you all flustered, Ms. Schemmenti?”

“Nothin’ in particular,” Melissa shakes her head, still grinning. “Just wanted to catch ya before the bell and apologize for yesterday. Sorry that I skipped lunch.”

And went out a date with Avery Blackwood.

And held hands with her.

Maybe even kissed her.

Barbara imagines Avery’s fingers in her friend’s hair, twisted in those thick, scarlet tresses. She sees Melissa’s arms around the other woman’s curving waist, the space between their bodies negligible. Envisions them trading shades and flavors of red lipstick, can almost hear the sensuous heaving of their mingled breaths. Impatient grunts. Maybe even the occasional moan. And that same awful feeling that had consumed her as she had stood by the window yesterday begins to climb up the rungs of her throat, constricting it, choking what’s left of her resolve to maintain an impeccable front.

And it is initially rather oblique to her—incomprehensible and frankly terrifying—why she should be feeling jealous of the idea of Melissa kissing another woman. It is one thing to be saddened at the idea of losing time with her closest friend; it is another to want to wretch at just the mere thought of the second grade teacher’s lips turning into another art project for one Ms. Avery Blackwood.

But in the end... she supposes she just misses Gerald, his little romantic gestures, his chaste kisses, his once attentive care.

Maybe she’s just lonely.

“Pssh,” she forces herself to smile all the same. “no need to apologize, girlfriend… I was simply happy to see you so happy…”

“Oh, yeah?” Melissa’s own smile brightens, her blush deepening until her face is nearly as red as her hair. Barbara is uncomfortably aware that the other teacher likes receiving her approval, perhaps even hinges some of her self-esteem on it. It’s been this way since her divorce and Joseph wrapped a horrible bow on their marriage by finally cheating on her.

That betrayal had unraveled Melissa Schemmenti.

Had made her feel like she was impossible to love.

And Barbara had seen all of this very clearly, had done everything in her power to put her friend’s broken pieces back together again, laboriously reconstructing her by telling her—almost everyday—that she was so loved and so cared for.

Lord, and how she’d done everything shy of kissing her to prove it.

“Yes,” Barbara nods, softening at these memories, chastising herself for forgetting them in the first place. Her entire project these last five years has been to help Melissa find happiness again… even if it comes at the expense of her own. “I’ve missed seeing you smile like that.”

And it’s true enough.

For the first year after the divorce, Melissa didn’t smile all that much anymore.

Not like she used to anyway.

And it had killed her inside, had hurt her and hurt her and hurt her, every single God blessed day to see the lifelessness in her eyes, to endure the unchanging monotony of her voice.

She remembers tearing up the first time she heard Melissa belly laugh again—maybe two years after the fact. They’d been at her house, making batches of Christmas cookies for their students, and Barbara had hastily opened a bag of flour, causing the dust to explode all over her face. Melissa had laughed and laughed and laughed some more at what was assuredly a hilarious sight until her own face turned red, the sound warm and vibrant and everything lovely in that dimly-lit kitchen.

And flour all over her cheeks and everything, Barbara had nearly wept, unhinged at that beautiful, nearly forgotten noise. Oh, God, how she’d pulled her friend into a hug then, smearing flour across her face too, kissing her—so very softly—on the crown of that vivid head.

Because Melissa was laughing.

Melissa was happy.

Maybe more accurately still, they were happy together.

“Smile like what?” Melissa tilts her head quizzically, her dark brow pinching somewhere in the middle.

“Like you’re at peace,” she says warmly and beneath her desk, digs her fingernails into the palm of her other hand. Because it stings—more than she ever thought it would—that her friend would finally find contentment in someone who wasn’t her.

Melissa opens her mouth and then abruptly closes it, rendered speechless with visible tenderness and delight, pink feathering her high cheekbones.

Goodness, she’s radiant, Barbara thinks, continuing to grip her palm, idly clawing at it, grounding herself in the distant ache.

“It’s still early yet, Barb,” the younger woman finally croaks, attempting to be playful but clearly and audibly touched. “Don’t jinx us.”

“Ach, never,” she intones, clumsily disguising a sudden gasp of pain as a laugh.

When she looks down at her hands, she sees that she has nicked herself, has accidentally drawn blood.

—

Avery is the one who proposes it—a joint lesson where Barbara will read The Cat in the Hat to her kids, and Avery will help them with a coloring project shortly afterwards. She comes to Barbara’s classroom after school one day—perhaps a week after the kindergarten teacher first saw her and Melissa from the window—so they can plan the specifics. With her impossible hair tied in a messy bun atop of her head and the loosely rolled sleeves of her oversized shirt speckled with paint and her slightly lined eyes bright with infectious zeal, it’s easy enough to understand why Ava calls her a “fine ass Miss Frizzle.”

And in hindsight, Barbara now knows why Melissa had been the first to agree.

“Genius,” Avery enthuses, lightly brushing her shoulder against Barbara’s own. “I mean, absolutely bloody brilliant—do you really create vocabulary card decks for each book that you’re reading? And for every student? Because if you do, then Melissa was absolutely correct when she called you a god.”

Her cheeks darken at the excessively kind words—both the art teacher’s own but more so Melissa’s purported ones. She never admits it, but she quite likes receiving her friend’s verbal approval too.

“Melissa thinks far too highly of me,” she says diplomatically, though a pleased smile rises to her lips all the same. “But I suppose she probably says the same of me.”

Neither of them are particularly good at loving each other in moderation. Gerald once teased that she loved Melissa more than him, and Barbara had just as jokingly agreed.

“Something to that effect, yes,” Avery laughs, the sound jocular and lovely, though her playfulness somewhat quickly cedes to thoughtfulness. She regards Barbara with a fond expression, tilting her curly head as though she’s trying to figure out how to capture her best angles in paint. “Mel really does think the world of you, you know. Says that you were there for her when she was really going through it with her ex…”

“It’s what any friend would do,” Barbara says quickly, flushing a little, not entirely sure if she’s touched that Melissa would share such an intimate detail about their friendship or irritated that she did.

Partially thinks that sharing the fact takes some of novelty away from it.

Ludicrous, she knows.

Absolutely ridiculous.

She’s well-aware.

(What is awareness to raw emotion, though, intellectualization to the irrationality of her deepest and most detested feelings?)

“What a good friend would do, dear,” Avery corrects firmly, thankfully oblivious to her inner conflict. “It’s in times of crisis when you learn who your true friends are. When my… you know, when my Morgan passed, so many people I thought were in my corner suddenly poofed, vanished, disappeared into the aether. And the ones who stayed—who helped me through the darkness—were often people I least expected. But they were so kind to me. They held my hand while I was in the straits, and they refused to let me go…”

Even though Avery’s gentle expression remains unchanged, Barbara can see the sadness in the forest of her eyes, can hear its plaintive notes in her rich, lilting voice. She cannot begin to fathom ever losing Gerald, even as complicated as things are between them now. She still loves him, of course. He’s the father of her kids and the other person in their shared bed of thirty-four—nearly thirty-five—years. She’d simply be lost without him.

She thinks it would be the death of her to lose Melissa, to never see that bright, red mouth smiling crookedly at her from across the room again. They’ve only known each other for nineteen years, but it feels like forever. And if Gerald is the other person in her bed, then Melissa is the filled seat next to hers in the teacher’s lounge, the hip lightly brushing against her own, the leather-clad shoulder she knows she can always lean upon.

They’re her people—her husband and her work wife—and she’s absolutely selfish; she wouldn’t be able to easily let either of them go.

So she reaches out accordingly, placing a hand on the small of the art teacher’s back in this imagined empathy of total, devastating, and unrecoverable grief.

There would be no Barbara Howard anymore in the aftermath of losing her beloved Ger or her precious Mel.

There would only be an empty husk of the woman she once was.

Her unhallowed and hollowed ghost.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she offers sincerely—with everything in her—but Avery only shakes her head and smiles at her gratefully. Her innumerable curls shiver at the movement.

“It was a long time ago, and things are much better now,” she returns softly, reaching over and lightly squeezing Barbara's free hand. “I have my necessary distractions—a new home to ruin with all my artistic endeavors, a different job to brilliantly occupy my time, and, well, Melissa now.”

Barbara doesn’t discipline her immediate reaction fast enough, frowning deeply at the inclusion of her friend’s name on this particular list.

“Oh,” Avery says hurriedly, catching the microgesture in an instant, pops of color rising across her smooth cheeks, “I don’t mean to say that I’m using Melissa as a way of coping. I like her very much… she understands loss…”

“She does,” Barbara says, not exactly coldly, but perhaps with a touch of admonition, eyeing the other teacher carefully. She lets her hand fall away, primly templing it with the other. “She absolutely understands loss—perhaps far too well as you might know."

Her nana who practically raised her and so many other relatives besides.

An uncle who was killed.

Joseph, that awful man.

Their acrimonious divorce.

Her estranged sister.

“I do know,” Avery agrees, her pale eyes suddenly bright in the harsh fluorescence of the classroom. “And I didn’t mean to insinuate—I mean, I would never hurt her. Melissa is so dear to me."

“I believe you,” she smiles tightly but truthfully. She thinks the art teacher occasionally wears her emotions on her sleeves—as transparently as the paint that is already there—and she half-admires this vulnerability.

Could never be so candid herself.

But she thinks it’s rather dangerous too, this capacity for laying one’s soul bare before another. Lesser people would take advantage, and they do everyday.

“Sometimes, though, we hurt people without ever really meaning to,” Barbara continues, taking on the familiar tone of Mrs. Howard.

Kind and didactic.

A little sanctimonious, maybe.

But well-intentioned.

Always.

She just doesn’t want to see Melissa hurt again.

“Even if we care about them—perhaps especially when we do."

The other woman flinches, as though she's been slapped, so Barbara hastily adds, "Not that you would, of course, but it’s something to keep in mind, yes?”

Avery is quiet for a long time after this, all of her usual mirth sieved from her, replaced with a world weariness and an aching, almost tangible sorrow. Barbara doesn’t think she did this to her, though; rather, she intuits that this is the person behind the painted smile.

This is the artist as herself and not as who she presents herself to be.

She feels sorry for her; she stands by her implicit warning all the same.

Melissa will always come first to her—her happiness, her security, her invaluable peace of mind—and she'll do anything to protect those holy treasures.

(She wishes—more than anything and with inordinate guilt—that she could provide them for her.)

"Fair enough," Avery eventually agrees.

Her ensuing smile is exquisite; it does not touch her eyes.

—

That evening, Barbara is curled up in her favorite recliner, watching Family Feud but not really seeing it, a glass of Prosecco idly supported between her fingertips. Gerald’s going to be late again—surprise, surprise—and she put on a whole pot of chicken and dumplings for nothing.

Oh, sure, he’ll eat a bowl tonight when he gets home around eight or nine, but she’ll have already eaten herself and will likely be in bed to prepare for the school day tomorrow. And if she is, her husband might even sleep in the guest room tonight so as not to disturb her.

He’s polite like that.

But Gerald’s versions of politeness often leave her feeling lonelier than ever before.

So when her phone suddenly rings right at the commercial break, and Melissa’s smiling face washes over her screen—(a picture she’d taken on their most recent movie date)—Barbara is perhaps a little too eager to pick up the phone, pressing it to her ear like a lifeline.

She’s wholly unprepared for the greeting that follows.

“What the hell did you say to Avery?”

“What?” Barbara splutters, uncomprehending and half-offended and so horribly afraid. She sits up abruptly, accidentally spilling a little wine on one of her favorite silk blouses. “What in Heaven’s name do you mean, Melissa? I didn’t—“

But the younger woman cuts across her viciously. “Things were all fine this morning, but then she goes to your classroom, and not even five minutes later, she’s in mine, tellin’ me we should take things slower!”

Barbara closes her eyes, suddenly and completely nauseous. The art teacher had apparently taken her words to heart, had evaluated them and perhaps found that they struck a meaningful chord.

Avery is still grieving her partner.

And grief is a monstrous thing.

It colors everything it touches—thoughts, memories, conversations, and deeds.

Relationships too.

(Maybe even relationships especially.)

“Are you saying that she broke up with you?” She rasps, her voice choked, wrung with unspeakable shame.

And something else as well.

But that something else is far more insidious to ever name.

(Hope.)

(Self-righteousness.)

(Glorious, sweeping relief.)

“No, I’m sayin’ that here you go again, messin’ with my relationships,” comes a quick and scathing reply. “You didn’t like Selina or Layla or Thornton. Fuck, you didn’t even like Gary, and you set me up with him in the first place!”

Every word lands across her stomach like the entry of a new knife, gushing blood. It’s true that she’s voiced her reservations about each and every one of Melissa’s most recent partners, but not for any malicious intent. She’s only meant to help her friend, naming the flaws in these various flings that her friend couldn’t see.

That is altruism from her limited perspective.

Meddling is a form of love.

“You’re being incredibly unfair,” she hisses, angrily wiping at the tears that have started to form at the corners of her eyes. “I’ve only wanted the best for you, Melissa, and you know that.”

And none of those individuals—as kind as they were or funny or sexy or available—were good enough for Melissa Schemmenti.

They were nice people.

That didn’t mean a blessed thing to Barbara.

“Yeah, well, from where I’m standing, you don’t give a rat’s ass about me—you just want me to be as miserable as yourself.”

And, oh, it is this indictment that is the cruelest of them all, and Barbara immediately wants to cry and shudder and scream so loudly that she can be heard from miles upon miles away. Another part of her still wants to fight back, teeth bared and hackles raised, wants to snarl so many unsavory things.

That her marriage is none of Melissa’s business.

That if she was so uncaring, then who has unfailingly been by her side these past five years, fixing what Joseph Lombardo so callously broke?

That she loves her.

You know that I do, Melissa.

I have loved you far more and for far longer than almost anyone.

Do you not know that?

Have I not proved to you—over and over again—that I care?

“I’m not miserable,” she mewls instead, the words pathetic even to her own ears. She sounds like a petulant child, but her deepest honesty would be overwhelming and too much.

It would sound like a vulgar confession.

A romantic one.

Her glass violently trembles in her hand.

“Keep telling yourself that, Barbara," comes an incredulous, broken laugh, "but don’t talk to me about my shit again until you’re finally ready to be honest about your own.”

And with that searing proclamation, Melissa hangs up with a brutal click, leaving Barbara alone again in her big, empty house.

The abrupt silence bruises her.

Wraps its fingers around the pillar of her throat.

She sits in her recliner and simply suffocates—for minutes after that, and then hours, a monolith carved from stone as tears serpentine down the weathered crevices of her face like water over an ancient fountain. She wipes at them only every now and then. Can’t entirely bring herself to care.

Darkness falls through the bay window in the living room, laying across her like a steel cage. She drinks and refills her wine and drinks and refills her wine until the bottle is empty, and her mind is a buzzing tape recorder, replaying that last conversation in her head until she’s making up replies that she didn’t say.

She is not miserable, Melissa.

She is a married, Christian woman.

She cannot fathom those two ever being one and the same.

#work wives #melissa schemmenti #barbara howard #abbott elementary #s: abbott elementary #reginianwrites #lots of gay yearning <3333 #one of my favorite things to write

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a-lil-perspective · 2 years

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Hey, uh 👉👈 you got any Headcanons for someone flirting with Cyare and Hunter getting jealous???

You betcha, sorry this has taken me an embarrassingly long time to get to but you know me.

—

On one hand, Hunter can be an extremely possessive guy, but on the other, he recognizes his Cyare’s strengths and trusts her so completely. Yes they are in the most loving, committed relationship, but Hunter absolutely allows Cyare her own autonomy and as a result, this fortifies their relationship tenfold.

That’s not to say Hunter never gets jealous of other guys attempting to have a-go at Cyare, it’s just that he’s so secure in his relationship with her, he knows he truly has nothing to worry about. He has the most wonderful woman in the entire Galaxy, and while she could have anyone she wants, she chose him, and that’s enough for Hunter.

Let me make it clear that it doesn’t matter if Cyare has three children or is currently pregnant; guys hit on her regardless. What I’m saying is Cyare is a total milf.

So there’s been lots of instances over the years and they’ve just learned to deal with it.

Plus she is so magnetic; she’s witty, she’s beautiful, with a bright smile, she’s friendly and not at all shy in her emotions (or her affection for her husband Hunter sitting across the way. :))

So it makes it easier for guys to attempt to take advantage of that. Hunter just sits back and watches her do her thing and expertly handle some smooth-talking chump. Grinning to himself all the while. Yeah, that’s his kicking-ass wife.

NOW, when someone gets handsy with Cyare; that’s a different story. It’s very important to Hunter that he keeps his cool. But he absolutely draws the line at another man’s touch on his wife’s back. Even if Cyare is handling it; Hunter immediately intervenes. His presence is very intimidating and usually all it takes is him and his stern Sergeant stock coming to Cyare’s side and then the lowlife is scampering off with all immediacy.

But sometimes this guy doesn’t take a hint, and Hunter physically steps between his wife and this dude and calmly tells him to back off and keep walking.

Believe it or not, very rarely has Hunter thrown hands with someone.

His goal isn’t to cause a scene; he attempts to de-escalate the situation as quickly and quietly as possible. He’s all about defending his wife’s honor, but not at the expense of embarrassing her. He doesn’t ever want to do that.

So yeah sorry these aren’t very exciting headcanons lol; I just think Hunter and Cyare have this deep-rooted trust and understanding of each other, they recognize each other’s strength and capabilities 100%, and this transfers over to how and when they stick up for each other in less-than ideal social settings.

Anyway just. Hunter x Cyare for the win.

#i love them your honor #sorry hope this suffices lol #tw relationships #tw marriage #tw flirting #tw jealousy #papa hunterverse #sergeant hunter #hunter #cyare #hunter and cyare #the bad batch #lizartgurl #it’s a lil thing

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yhwhsdaughter · 3 years

Text

How problematic are they? Would they get cancelled?

content: cursing, mild spoilers, insulting your faves, long list of characters

EREN ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ soooo problematic and for what? in his defense, eren doesn’t actively try to come off as an asshole— he just has strong opinions and doesn’t really care if it rubs people the wrong way

MIKASA *ೃ༄ my girl out here getting hate for no reason. haters are just afraid because mikasa is a strong, independent woman who doesn’t care for their stupid comments

ARMIN ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ armin is perfect, he can do wrong in my eyes. he’s the golden child of attack on titan. i dont accept criticism on this sorry

JEAN *ೃ༄ mmm yes but no; people would probably just give him shit because a video surfaced of him treating his mom kinda badly. some defend him and others don’t

CONNIE ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ because he’s just a crackhead, connie might accidentally say something offensive. his manager will have to apologize on his behalf because he’d probably fuck it up and make it worse lmao

SASHA *ೃ༄ gets hateful comments because she’s unapologetically herself— doesn’t quite care for bullshit societal norms and does what she wants, which sometimes gets her in trouble

MARCO ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ this man doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, someone protect him. if anything, he might just get caught in jean’s drama at times

HISTORIA *ೃ༄ publicly, she’s okay but i feel like she’d have some really dark and questionable morals on the downlow

YMIR ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ misandrist. she’s not sorry either sjsjsjsj

ANNIE *ೃ༄ doesn’t really fuck with people. annie is the definition of “minding my business” but if someone gets on her bad side, bitch won’t be afraid to bring out the receipts

REINER ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ made a lot of bad decisions when he was young and now they’ve come back to bite him in the ass. he’s really just trying to live his life but people will bring back shit he did like 5 years ago

BERTHOLDT *ೃ༄ others have done worse shit than him but ppl just focus on one bad thing he did. like, they won’t let go no matter how much time has passed. tries to handle it with grace but kinda snaps

LEVI ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ do no harm but take no shit. levi might get a bad rep but he’s perhaps one of the least problematic characters. looks like he could shit in your dinner (and would) but only if you deserve it.

HANGE *ೃ༄ kinda crazy. hange is living life to the fullest, sometimes threading in dangerous territory but they are not offensive in general.

ERWIN ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ my man is no angel, he’s done his fair share of problematic shit but somehow smooth talks his way out of punishments??

FLOCH *ೃ༄ he’s easy to hate. mostly cuz he’s a shitty person but partly because he looks so annoying.

MARLO ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ he’s the one cancelling people. jk, marlo would try his best to be a good role model and dislikes cancel culture because he thinks it doesn’t teach people to be better by learning from their mistakes (this varies on the situation)

KENNY *ೃ༄ drunk uncle that can beat your ass no matter how old he gets. not a good parental role either!! homo— sexual? phobic?

RICO ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ this waifu might seem like a bit of a hardass with unsavory opinions but doesn’t have malicious intent so we give her a pass.

PIECK *ೃ༄ homegirl is asleep most of the time. she doesn’t have the energy to be problematic.

PORCO ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ porco acts really high and mighty for someone who’s quite problematic. always starts beef with reiner. it’s so random too, like ??

MARCEL *ೃ༄ the better twin. not problematic whatsoever. he’s actually the one who deescalates his brother’s fights. bless him

COLT & FALCO ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ really wholesome siblings and people in general. they’ve never done anything wrong in their life, ever.

GABI *ೃ༄ for a child, she gets a lot of hate. gabi doesn’t quite fully understand the adult world so she might say or do things that bother people. doesn’t mean she deserves the hate but anyway—

YELENA ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ a culprit by association. adores zeke at an unhealthy level and condones all the bad shit he’s done. knows the diff between right and wrong but ignores it. may or may not have mafia connections

ZEKE *ೃ༄ zeke is the type of person who’s in the wrong but refuses to admit it. his way or the highway.

ONYANKOPON ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ he’s an unproblematic king. wouldn’t be afraid to apologize or own up to his errors and that’s why we stan

TYBUR *ೃ༄ probably an incel. despite the obvious red flags, i feel like he’d manage to gaslight people into thinking he’s a good person. probably a cult leader too

NICCOLO ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “you punch a couple hundred orphans and suddenly you’re mean” niccolo took ryan reynold’s a little too seriously. he’s gordon ramsey w/ everyone except sasha

GRISHA *ೃ༄ uhh well he’s not winning father of the year award anytime soon. grisha has made some mistakes and sorta learned from them? he’s trying his best but he’s on thin fucking ice

CARLA ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ unlike her son, miss carla wouldn’t get cancelled. everybody loves this milf (as they should). horny thoughts aside, she’s actually really sweet

REINER’S PARENTS *ೃ༄ i’d label them as the worst parents in aot but that title is reserved for historia’s parents. anyway, these mfs would have CPS on their asses since day 1

HISTORIA’S PARENTS ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ crème de la crème of being asshole parents. CEOs of shitty parenting. everyone hates them and for good reason.

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theywontletmebeprincipal · 3 years

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can you give me drowsy headcanons, ramble, or anything please, i am so deprived. do not be afraid to make it super long, the more the better, i just love drowsy chaperone and love to hear other people (plus you’re one of the only people i’ve seen who knows a lot abt it)

ASK AND YE SHALL RECIEVE

I’ll divide this into a few different parts, going from least to most excruciatingly sad :)

1. general headcanons

2. in canon things i noticed and think about daily

3. a full analysis of man in chair’s connections with the drowsy chaperone as an in universe show (trigger warning for abuse ment, alcoholism ment, suicide ment)

SECTION ONE: HEADCANONS

- okay the chaperone is trans I don’t make the rules

- also her name is ambrosia :) she forsook her last name :)

- she’s about 12 years older than janet and kinda hung with janet’s family after leaving her own for a while . essentially she’s a big sister to janet

- aldolpho has some lines where he asks if the bride is big and/or burly and while in canon this is supposed to show he’s kind of a womanizer I like to believe it’s because he was fully prepared to fight her if needed

- speaking of which Of Course janet is ripped she does gymnastics

- my batshit crazy headcanon for this show is that dee dee allen from the prom is a descendant of roman bartelli no I will not elaborate

- is aldolpho one of those bitches with pets that definitely shouldn’t be legal? yessir

- post show kitty becomes a star okay I just want her to be happy

- the “pastry chefs” do discover a love of baking post show and now run a shop along with performing in feldzeig’s follies which might maybe be a front for some crime too

- TRIX DROWSY AND ALDOLPHO WORLD TRAVELING POLYCULE CAUSING PROBLEMS ON PURPOSE

- underling’s name is james I will not elaborate on this either

- show never says what trix does so I’ve decided she’s an explorer. she charts maps and punches colonialists and drags her stupid friends along with her, the only bitch in the show with a braincell

- drowsy was a former vaudeville child star pre transition - she left the business but was a mentor to janet

- I do have a headcanon for mic’s name but in the spirit of every actor who’s ever played him I won’t fucking tell

SECTION TWO: SHIT I NOTICED

- robert refers to himself by full name a lot of the time which is v interesting given he’s named after the writer, bob martin (whose wife is also named janet van de graaf). the real bob martin is like five feet away at all times playing mic

- idk how to describe it but the dynamic kitty and feldzeig (VICTOR felgzeig. we have a name from one (1) line) have when talking to each other is so snappy and funny and good

- aldolpho’s lines in spanish are mostly romantic bullshit but his first one hints that he has/had a wife who, if we’re taking the translation literally, refused to touch him. yeah I’ll bring this up in analysis

- the “pastry chefs” provide liquor for the wedding even though it has absolutely no relevance to their mission of stopping it :)

- drowsy is like. SUPER endearing towards janet and despite her bad social skills it’s super clear she cares a lot about her

- robert speaks fluent french apparently

- everyone says “ew” after aldolpho reveals his affair with drowsy despite her being a certified milf

- the body language of drowsy in the end of the show where she takes mic’s hands and breaks the barrier between reality and fiction is just so good. she was iconic the whole show but I honestly think this final bit is what won beth leavel the Tony in the end

SECTION THREE: OH NO

before diving into the way the drowsy chaperone affects his character, we need to understand what exactly it’s playing off of. to fully understand mic’s attachment to the drowsy chaperone, we need to outline what led him to isolating himself and living in fiction to the extent that he does.

mic’s father left his family at an early age and his semi estranged alcoholic mother was the one who began his love for theatre. mic grew up in a broken household and eventually moved on to land in a one sided marriage, which lasted a few months until he slipped up and expressed his discomfort with the situation, after which he and his wife split. nowadays, he lives alone in his apartment surrounded by records he uses to escape to a better life - his favorite of which being the one his mother gave him, the drowsy chaperone.

symbolism in the drowsy chaperone regarding mic’s life can be split into two main categories - mommy issues and internalized homophobia. there isn’t nearly as much mom symbolism as there is the latter, so I’ll cover that first.

drowsy covers both bases, but she definitely has some undeniable mom symbolism going on. drowsy marries aldolpho and mom dreams of being swept off her feet by a latin lover, both feel they’ve wasted their chances at love, both drink to forget, etc. this is where the idea of the drowsy chaperone being mic’s ideal way for things to work out, a positive parallel, comes into play. given that we don’t hear too much about mic’s mom other than her connections to major life events and the record itself, we can assume they grew apart in one way or another. the key difference is that drowsy finds a happy relationship for herself and retains her bond with janet, unlike what we’re led to assume mom was like.

further elaborating on the drowsy chaperone representing mic’s ideal fantasy version of events is the wedding the drowsy chaperone’s plot centers around. here’s a list of the things that didn’t stop that damn wedding:

- a minister not showing up

- the groom cheating on the bride with the bride

- the bride having a complete mental breakdown

- indirect mafia interference

- direct mafia interference

on the flip side, what little mic says about his wedding indicates it sucked absolute ass. he spent the entire ceremony in internal distress as he went through with a life changing event he, at that point, knew at least a bit that he didn’t want. I think he also implies he had severe diarrhea on the wedding day? it gets worse when you realize mic’s relationship before the wedding wasn’t any good for him either - he was playing along the whole time because it would be cruel not to, right?

throughout the show, mic is pretty clearly shown as an extremely repressed gay man. there are five specific instances that point at romantic and/or sexual attraction to men directly and another moment outside of his commentary that pretty much confirms it if you look a little bit deeper. thus, here is what I propose - to mic, the drowsy chaperone’s wedding plot represents a world where he was able to ignore that part of himself and have a happy marriage with his wife despite all the overwhelming obstacles thrown at him. however, bits and pieces of that internalized homophobia manage to show themselves throughout the drowsy chaperone anyway despite its happy ending. here’s a rundown on a few significant instances:

- by the end of the show, the “pastry chefs”, who had literally been planning to kill feldzeig, have left their life of crime to perform with him. this symbolizes how in mic’s ideal world he would have been able to turn away from what he perceived at the time as living wrongly - his homosexuality

- at the same time, the “pastry chefs” have this line, spoken in regards to janet: “if she gets married and leaves the show... there ain’t no show.” this is a take on mic’s subconscious concern that he might lose himself if he goes on with his marriage pretending everything is alright - of course, as we already know, he doesn’t listen

- “cold feets” is a pretty obvious instance of mic’s hesitation

- aldolpho’s line in spanish regarding the wife who won’t touch him flips to reflect on mic’s treatment of his own ex wife - she was alien to him as a lover, just as aldolpho was to this woman

- janet recalls her meeting robert at a point in the show and states “we spooned, briefly, then he proposed.” though mic’s relationship pre marriage was much longer than that, it must have felt that way to him - just as quick and nonsensical as janet describes

- just as janet is caught in showbiz but has a toxic love for it, so does mic with his own repressed life

- janet has a line in “show off” that alludes to her experiencing harassment/assault: “I don’t wanna be cheered no more/ praised no more/ grabbed no more/ touched no more/ loved no more” , which I believe represents the way mic perceived his intimacy with his wife - labeled as love yet unenjoyable for him

- “I look into his eyes... I get all woozy. and that’s... love, isn’t it?” is another very clear nod to mic’s misconception of love based off the only thing he’s ever experienced, relationships with women he’s had to fake

- this is the part where I tell you the lyrics to toledo surprise are a metaphor for actively suppressing gay thoughts. I’ll just leave you with “if it tries to rise; don’t let it”. these lyrics are not comprehensive enough to make a dish - trust me, I have tried. it’s also notable that they serve a double entendre as instructions on how to beat the shit out of someone, but several lyrics are also directed towards the singer/audience. for example: “it’s a snap/ try it folks/ whip your whites/ split your yolks” is an easy metaphor for the unhealthy mental gymnastics required to repress oneself so wholeheartedly

it’s also worth noting the obvious just for the sake of it - mic copes with all this by isolating himself in a safe spot where he can use musicals to escape and live his ideal fantasy, even if it’s only for a short time. there are plenty of nods to this throughout the drowsy chaperone as well. in “as we stumble along” drowsy notes that “the best that we can do is hope a bluebird/ will sing a song/ as we stumble along” - to mic, musicals are his bluebird. while mic mostly indulges in these fantasies, he knows to a certain extent the sheer amount of time he’s spending in them is unhealthy. the first line of the show is “I hate theatre” and I think that to an extent? he does. obviously mic loves theatre as a concept, that can’t be denied. what he hates is the way he’s allowed it to confine him.

with all that out of the way, let’s move on to the most important moment of the show. if you’ve ever seen the show, you’ll know exactly which scene I’m talking about immediately. I’m referring to, of course, the infamous “l-ve while you can” scene. as janet stands at the alter she asks drowsy for one final word of advice, which is partially obscured by aldolpho dropping his cane. “l-ve while you can.” it’s a simple moment, but mic reveals to us that he’s been agonizing over it for years - did drowsy say “live” or “leave”? it occurs to everyone eventually, whether a couple days after the show like with me, or years after like with bob martin’s replacement on broadway that the most likely answer is that she had said “love while you can”. it’s this moment, when you realize why mic had never seen that as an option, that the drowsy chaperone’s status as a musical within a comedy within a tragedy is solidified. mic had no love in his life - his parents hated each other and he was forcing himself into relationships in which he felt nothing. to him, living and leaving were options, but loving never was. so he locked himself away.

as the final note on the record is playing, all power in mic’s apartment shuts down and the fantasy is ruined. the superintendent arrives and further invades his space, breaking the private sanctity he had built up for so long. she fixes the power and before mic can stop it from happening, the final note of the record plays. and the super recognizes it as a musical. she makes a remark about how much her wife loves musicals and leaves, completely unaware of what she’s just done.

mic sits in silence for a while. and then he begins to sing. gradually, the cast members begin to echo their songs, dancing around him but never touching him. then drowsy appears and sings harmony to mic. and she takes his hands. the show ends with the entire cast, including mic, taking off on trix’s airplane as the curtain falls, drowsy handing mic his record as the plane takes off.

some people interpret the ending as mic committing suicide, finally deciding between live and leave. I don’t personally believe that and neither does writer and original mic bob martin, but it’s still a valid interpretation. the drowsy chaperone’s ending is ambiguous, yes, but not to that extent. no matter what you believe the ending means, it was brought on not by the interruption of the fantasy, but by whatever realization the super’s remark about her wife triggered. as I see it, there are two main options here.

option one - mic realizes he still has time to live and to love. when he was younger the prospect of living as himself was unthinkable to him, yet now he sees that while he was spending countless years alone the world grew. drowsy offers mic her hand, an invitation to finally become what he had admired in her - someone who isn’t anywhere near perfect, but is damn well trying and living life without regret. he accepts.

option two - mic realizes that while he spent years alone the world moved on without him and he’s isolated himself so much from social interaction that he’d no longer be able to make a meaningful connection with anyone outside. so he stays inside instead, never trying, always trapped between live and leave. drowsy offers mic her hand - at least he’ll have a tune to carry with him.

I really want to believe we got option one. I think option one is the intended, really, given mic ends the show with a joyful goodbye to the audience. but the way that the ending is still left open for interpretation makes it so that we can never really know - we as the audience only get to be privy to a small part of mic’s life, and we don’t get the answers we want because at the end of the day they’re irrelevant to us - all we can do is make our own choice.

#the drowsy chaperone #musical theatre #musicals #broadway #musical meta #man in chair

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