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minhoseok · 4 years

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Infiltration Yandere!YangYang

pairing: yangyang x reader (fem)

description: yangyang got himself into a mental ward because of you. you decide to pay a visit to see why he would put his life aside for someone like you. you end up finding out more than that.

Warnings : its yandere, so its going to be toxic, gore-ish and unhealthy. this is purely fiction and does not represent the members or Yangyang in any way

based on the wayv teaser : 10110

Blood stained nails tapped against the brick wall, head banging against it for what seemed like the hundredth time today, Yangyang was at it again. Everyday it was the same thing, he woke up, ate barely enough, self loathed, then yearned for y/n. This was how it had been for the past year.

Audible footsteps approached his cell as he dragged his nails up against the worn out brick, eyes peering up the slightest. Muffled voices could be heard from the inner walls of the cell. The gruff voices of the body guards and a female voice could be heard. Hearing the locks free he finally looks up.

Yangyang grins as he tries to stand up from his bed, crammed in the corner of the room. Walking towards the two figures at the door going as far forward as he could with the restraints on his ankles.

Y/n stepped back with caution, picking at the skin around her fingers, causing them to bleed as she tried to calm herself down. She’d been requested to come by the mental hospital by Yangyang himself, ever since he had first ended up there.

“Y/n...” his throat rough and dry due to his refusal to drink anything. Eyes study her through his overgrown bangs. Red stained hands reach out to feel her face as she gets pulled back by one of the guards.

“Don’t push it” he uttered to the shorter boy. He glared at the taller individual.

Y/n got the hint that he was obviously uncomfortable around him due to the thick tension in the room. “You guys can leave, I’ll be ok” y/n voiced out quietly. Directing her eyes away from the young boys stare, trained on her

Nodding in agreement the two guards left the room. Only to stand outside, in case things got out of hand.

“Y/n you’re here? Why?” He teased, taunting her, hoping to drive her as mad as she drove him.

“They said you wanted to talk, and I” she paused “ and I wanted answers” she said looking him in the eye, emotionless.

She stood a good distance away from him. Close to the door., way too far for him to even get close.

“Ahh I see, so you didn’t visit because you missed me?” a small frown was visible yet you could see the smugness that lurked behind it.

“Look, why did you follow me, stalk me? Kill all those people?”

He purses his lips, ruffling his rough, matted hair. “Very straight forward I see? I’ll give you an answer similar to that too. They touched you. Something that was mine. They don’t deserve to live” he basically sang out. grin playing at his lips once again as he remembered the way he ruined them slowly, how he was successful in protecting what was his.

He was snapped out of his daze when he thought about the stupid cell he was forced into. They took her away from him. He couldn’t protect his love anymore when he was chained to the wall, too distant from his precious y/n.

She suddenly took steps closer. Curious to see how far he’d go. He shuffled closer until his restraints were tight, skin around his bare feet were burning and slowly ripping the skin apart.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” she watched in horror and disgust while closely observing him. He looked up at her with eyes that could pierce through you and huffed “because I love you sweetie” he tried to move even closer to her, bolts bearing the restraints, on the brink of falling off. He knew how close he was to getting her. He just had to figure out how to get out without anyone ruining his plans.

“Look, I don’t know who you are, but you stalked me for a good year, killed a bunch of people cause apparently they messed with me and now you’ve ended up here in this hell because you wasted your time on a lowlife like me.” She turned to leave before the tears fell.

“You’re not a waste” his jaw clenched at the thought of her thinking so lowly of herself. She deserves the world. Only I deserve her. Before she could leave, one final tug of his leg broke the chain.

In panic of hearing the burst, she turned around only to see Yangyang towering over her. Engulfing her in a hug.

“Please don’t leave me, not again”

Fear struck. Not knowing what to do she froze. Letting him enclose her into his arms. He held her tightly, pushing her head against his chest while raking bloody fingers through her hair. Her smaller frame having no chance against him despite him having such low energy and power.

Adrenaline suddenly rushing through her blood. She shoved him back with all her might. Even if it didn’t do much. She fumbled with the emergency button they handed her and pressed the button in a heartbeat.

Deafening sirens blasted and rang throughout the room. The door bursting open with at least 5 people ready to move. The two body guards from earlier were the first to go in.

Yangyang, still dazed from the sudden outburst from you, was still surprised and stood on the other side of the room, being restrained down to the floor. Weakly struggling against their strong hold. The other 3 finally walked in when they deemed it was safe.

You had only noticed in their hands was a shiny syringe, ready to put into action. You glanced at the boy who was yielding and thrashing. He looked up with sincere eyes, suddenly bursting out with laughter, the psychopathic side of him shining right through. Just before the nurses inject him with the drug. Before you know it. He was out.

-----

Y/n drove home in silence, the radio wasn't on as usual, ever since she saw Yangyang she hadn’t felt like herself. Her hands clenched the wheel as she stopped at the red light, knuckles turning white as she got caught up in her thoughts.

‘So that’s who was following me? A psychopath who claims to love me?’ She was shoved out of her train of thought when she heard a honk behind her; signaling the green light. She continued to drive home. Still weary of her surroundings, she still couldn’t get the thought out of her head. Had she really been the cause of countless deaths?

“Hello?” Y/n hurriedly spoke into the phone. Picking it up the second she had heard the call not caring for the caller ID

“Hey y/n we know you only came a few days ago but we need you here as soon as possible”

She recognised the voice, it was the head chief that had requested you go see Yangyang.

“ Hey um is everything ok?” she spoke leg bouncing as she tried to keep herself from panicking. What had gone wrong during the 3 days she was away?

“I think it's best if you come see for yourself”

“I'll be there in 30 minutes”

Y/n pulled up in the familiar parking lot of the large, barricaded building. She stepped out of her car and walked to the gate, to be greeted by two guards who stopped her before entering. One of them handed a mask to her, then stepped aside, opening the doors.

She found herself walking down the walkway that held foul memories, finding it hard to breathe she drank some water she brought with her.

“Ah y/n nice to see you” acknowledged Jaimson, the head officer. He then gestures for her to follow him down another hallway, leading up to the cell where she had met YangYang.

“I want you to talk to him, ask him the remaining questions we prompted you to last time. He’s gone a bit more mad than when you last saw him. If the light starts flashing blue I want you to put in the mask and move as close to the door as you can until someone gets you out. If he acts up we’re going to knock him out with some gas so make sure your mask is fixed on properly if it comes to that ok?”

Y/n nods her head, feeling drowsy, stomach churning in fear.

The iron door opened, and once again she felt so small, helpless.

She felt his eyes on her, head hung low, she quivered.

When she finally looked up the room was unrecognizable. Marks all over the room in assortments of colours, resembling those alleyways full of graffiti.

This time Yangyang was restrained to a chair behind a table. He looked through his overgrown bangs and glanced at the empty seat across him. Inviting her to sit.

Clutching the mask in her hand to her chest she decided to finally sit. Yangyang let out a low chuckle.

“Why” was all that y/n could utter out. Barely audible but yangyang heard it loud and clear.

“Because my love” he took a breath in, glanced around the room, then fixing his eyes on hers. “They touched you, disgusting imbeciles like them don’t deserve to live” he simply said, not phasing his calm yet eerie demeanor one bit.

Y/n took a breath in, unsure what to say in response.

“Well what’s so good about me then?” She suddenly came up with “what makes me any different than them?”

“You?” He suddenly tried to stand up though the chains keeping him seated, hands rigid against the cuffs

“You are a gift from the gods y/n, never and when I say never I mean it. Never compare yourself to those scums.”

“Well what makes you any better than them?”

That’s when he snapped. Struggling against his restraints, he was furious. “YOU! I’m here to protect you. I’m here to keep those idiots away to protect you.”

He calmed down and slowly sat back down and chuckled again.

“Isn’t that what love is about darling?” He cocked his head, a sinister grin forming.

“That isn’t love. You’re fucking crazy” her newfound confidence taking over her.

“Isn’t that what they say? Love makes you crazy doesn’t it?” Flashing his pearly whites.

“You’re obsessed” she blankly stared, all emotion leaving her.

She got up and left the room. His laugh ringing through the room, haunting her as she silently dragged herself out.

“Hey Y/n how are you?” Rang through her phone, her friend Cherlyn was on call while y/n was getting ready to sleep after the long day.

“I’m alright, you?” She tied her hair up, ready to wash her face.

After chatting for a while, Cheryln brings up something unforgettable.

“Did you hear the news?”

“What news?”

“Yangyang escaped”

Days passed,though it felt like years , y/n was too scared to leave her house, yet she felt her house was also the most dangerous place to be. He knew where she lived. He knew everything about her.

Driving back from a quick grocery errand she zoomed through the breeze, it had been days since she left her house, lack of food forcing her to get out. She made some rules for herself. If she has to get out of the house she has to leave while the sun is up and she has to bring her pepper spray and pocket knife. Not that they’d help much over an overly obsessed psychopath of a stalker that’s killed.

After parking her car and warily taking her groceries out she got ready to sprint up 3 flights of stairs without encountering anyone and dropping anything.

Running up wasn’t a problem for her. The problem was she has a whole carton of eggs and a bottle of milk she had to carry up without turning it into an omelet.

Finally reaching her door to her apartment she reached for her keys to unlock the door. Noticing her door was slightly ajar. “I could have sworn I locked my door” she mumbled under her breath.

Pushing the door open she was wary of her surroundings, looking around to see if anything was out of place. Given the state she was in she decided she must’ve accidentally left the door unlocked, pushing herself to remember not to do it next time.

Putting her groceries down she went to lock her door, noticing that she didn’t forget to lock it, but her lock had been picked at and basically destroyed.

Her heart dropped. Frantically looking around her house she came across her photos of her friends, photo frames shattered on the floor, marker drawn all over it. The shelf of photos was replaced with new photos. Photos of her when she thought she was alone, undressing, even in the shower.

Her face showed a mix of fear and disgust. Running to her room she got one of her baseball bats from when she used to play in highschool. She backed out of her room, clutching the bat in her hand, phone in the other. She looked around for possible threats. She decided to check all the other rooms. Checking her bathroom last, she shrieked. In her bathtub was a very much dead cherlyn and written on the mirror in what seems like her blood ‘TOLD YOU I’D PROTECT YOU’

Y/n look in the mirror once more seeing a masked shadow behind her, the same one she had prayed to never see again.

“Goodnight baby” the voice whispered as the cloth was held against her, knocking her out

The room was semi dark, an uncomfortable atmosphere surrounding her semi conscious body, tied to a chair. Towered in front of her was the person she feared most. The bright light suddenly illuminated the small basement. He touched her cheek softly, embracing the warmth he never got. The one he sacrificed everything for. “So beautiful,” he said, studying her features from up close, even in the state she was in she still looked like a goddess to him.

Eyes fluttering open she tried to rub her eyes, noticing the unusual restraint and uncomfortably dark light. She tried to call for help, not noticing the cloth tied to her mouth, drenched with her saliva.

Once she got used to the harsh light she saw him. Standing in front of her, a bright smile on his face, like a kid waking up on christmas day. y/n instinctively tried to move back, however unable to. Limbs carefully tied to the chair, held her down very well. Attempting to yell at him through the cloth she tried to wriggle her way out of the restraints.

‘Maybe if i pretend im hurt he’ll let me go?’ she thought to herself.

“Shh sweetheart don't scream, i won't hurt you, well unless you make me” he giggled to himself. “Look I’ll make a deal with you, I’ll take the gag off if you promise me you won't scream ok? If you don't try anything I’ll give you some water, maybe I’ll even let you talk to me.” he cooed

She nodded, eyes pleading in hope to win him over.

He smiled at her submissiveness and squatted down to her level. “Good girl” he was glad that he wouldn't have to use force to get her to listen.

Untying the gag he looked her in the eye, his adoration visible. Once the gag was off she took a deep breath. Worried what he would do with her now.

“W-why d-did you do this t-to me’ y/n croaked.

‘Baby u dont needa stutter with me’ he says, still caressing her cheek. She flinches away from his touch making yangyang frown. “C’mon y/n you know i wouldn't hurt you if my life depended on it. Well, unless you try to escape or make me jealous. Other than that you basically have me wrapped around your finger. I’d do anything for you.”

“Yangyang i-” she started to cough “water, please” she whispered.

“Oh right, i'll be back in a minute. Don't try to escape. Or else” she nodded quickly, a small ‘ok’ leaving her lips. He hesitantly walked towards the door and went to get some water.

Once she was sure he left by craning her neck she then pulled out the pocket knife she swore to keep with her all the time and cut the ropes around her wrist carefully, then smoothly slid out the ropes. Bending down she cuts off the ropes that tie her legs to the chair and slowly stands up, praying to not make any noise.

She got ready to get out or at least hide from him when she was interrupted with him standing at the doorway with a glass of warm water, and a very unhappy look.

“What did i tell you about escaping y/n? ” he frowned “I trusted you!” Yangyang slowly losing his patience, getting angrier by the second.

Backing her up into a corner she started to panic. At this point she was just bracing herself for the pain. Tears flowing down her face.

“ Please don't cry, i know you’re scared and confused, so I’ll let you slip this time ok? Next time I won't be as forgiving and you’ll be punished,” attempting to calm her down he kept his distance, he handed her the glass of water he had originally come to give her.

Suspicious of the water he just held it in her shaky hands. Noticing her hesitation, Yangyang sighed. “look i didn't put anything in it” he took the cup out of her hands and took a sip and made sure she saw he swallowed it “see?’. She hesitantly takes it back and chugs it all down

“Better?” he asked

“Yes. Thank you yangyang” the last part coming out as a soft whisper

“What did you say?”

“Thank you Yangyang”

“Good girl”

(a/n: it was originally longer than this but it got messy so i might post the remaining bit if you guys want)

#nct #nct yandere #yandere nct #wayv #nct yangyang #wayv yangyang #wayv yandere #wayvyandere #yangyangyandere #nctyangyang #nctsmut #wayv smut #yandere #yandere wayv #liu yangyang #yangyang

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katelynnt · 3 years

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Strawberry Fields

Chapter 4

The plane ride was quite boring, I mainly slept. Our plan is to spend the day going through the main tourist attractions and then get on a train to Liverpool, which is what we did. We went to Buckingham Palace, Big Ben (which fun fact is actually called Elizabeth Tower, but the old bell inside was called Big Ben... Anyway). The British Museum, Natural History Museum, St. Paul's Cathedral...

I was most excited to go to Abbey Road...

My mother on the other hand hated the whole trip, I keep pointing out spots I knew The Beatles had been to as well as just talk, and talk, and well talk.

Both Cassandra and I were exhausted, at the end of the day, we made it to King's Cross, cause you know Hogwarts... Anyway, we got tickets for Liverpool.

My feet hurt...

The train ride was tiring, my mother went on and on about how she met this man at the hotel. Let's just say she is up $100, as to how she got it I don't know nor do I care.

I zoned out listening to music as I do. Elton John's Sacrifice came on I couldn't help but get lost in my mind. I thought about Thomas, even though I'm young and have no clue what love is, I know I didn't love him. And if he's honest he doesn't love me, we're just a show for our parents, nothing more.

Hopefully by the time I'm 18, in what, 2 years? I'll leave him and mainly my mother behind.

I don't hate her... she's my mom, after all, but she's difficult. She is, as Madonna says, a 'material girl.' Does that make her a villain, no, does it make her distant and cold... yes. She's no whore, of course, she wouldn't stoop so low. She just can convince others to do what she wants, which has helped us in the past. It scares me I may have that ability, given her comment about my father... whoever he may be.

In school I was good at speaking, working with others, being a 'leader' as my teacher called it. How I do it is beyond me, maybe it's my father in me, maybe he's a leader, a politician, CEO, lawyer, or hell a really smart homeless man. Mom has never talked about him, only that he gives her money for me. Most likely he was a one-night stand with a wife and my mom put him under her spell as she does. I know I'll never know who he is, and I've made my peace with that fact. However I do get curious at times, think of what could be, what he would be like if he's sweet... or a dick.

"Wednesday morning at five o'clock As the day begins Silently closing her bedroom door Leaving the note that she hoped would say more"

I knew immediately what song this was, I smile, its as if my phone knew exactly how I was feeling

She (we never thought of ourselves) Is leaving (never a thought for ourselves) Home (we struggled hard all our lives to get by) She's leaving home, after living alone, for so many years

The song didn't make me feel sad, instead, I felt safe, its almost like John was speaking directly to me telling me it will be ok that I wasn't alone. I know its a silly thought but I couldn't help but think, what made him write something like this, why did it represent everything I knew?

This is why I love music, and why I'm here. Music can speak to millions of people make them feel something, helps them cope with life. It's a made my hell feel a bit more bearable.

I looked out the window and I notice we are arriving at the station, I chuckled, I spent close to 3 hours thinking about The Beatles and my mother. If that doesn't sum up my life I don't know what does.

I grab my luggage and walk down the aisle with my mother in the toe. I step off the train and feel the wind picking up, it wasn't cold but it wasn't warm either. England weather was going to take some getting used to, right now back home it's probably hot as balls. It was late 9:30-ish with the only source of light being the lights on the station and roads.

My mother comes up from behind me turning as she states, "Valerie, get the Uber would you." She looks around the platform as if someone was going to mug us if she took her eyes off the area. "Yes, Cassandra." I joked. She turned to face me with a raised eyebrow. I put my hands up in surrender, she rolled her eyes and gave me the name of the hotel.

After a good 15 minutes the car pulls up at the entrance we get in and I look out into the night. I didn't hear my mom until I felt her pinching my arm "Ow what the hell?" I yelped. "Language" she scolds, "Sorry but what did you expect." I realized we made it to the hotel, I thank the driver and grab my book-bag and small dark blue duffle bag. I look to see the hotel in front of me. It was quite modern with glass surrounding it, and the view around was gorgeous with the ocean just a few yards ways. With more tall buildings and a large walkway nearby.

We walk through the doors and are greeted with cold air blasting, most likely the AC but damn it was cold. As I look around I see the front desk, it was again very modern, the desk itself was a grey with black stone on top, next to it was a glass staircase going who knows where a wooden couch stood in the middle with the wood making a light "C" in its shape.

I slumped down on the said couch as mom walks up to the lady behind the desk. I pull my phone and headphones back out and get my playlist going, looking through my phone seeing if anyone has texted me (No one did). I look through my social media see the comments left on my latest post of the train before I boarded. I don't use social media often, I find the people on it too snobby for their own good. It's mainly for me to put things I want to see later in life, like a time capsule in your pocket.

Cassandra looks back at me with an annoyed face, I know that face, its the "get your ass over here" face. I gathered my things and look over my shoulder to see her walking towards me with a key card in her hand.

"I'm starving and they don't have food here, I need you to go out get and something." She stated very bluntly going through her phone. I swear shes on that thing more than I do.

"Where? I didn't see anything places nearby" I questioned, I didn't like the idea of walking around in the middle of the night in a place I didn't recognize. My mom didn't even look up, "You'll be fine, go ill take the bags" She then handed me a key card and two $20's, or should I say pounds, I don't know... she then shooed me away.

I walk out of the hotel, it was surprisingly warmer than expected with the dry air blowing slightly. I started walking to my right, I had no idea where I was going I just let my feet carry me where they wanted hoping they'd lead me to food.

As I looked around I saw buildings left, right and center, I pass a cafe that was closed. My phone was close to dying at only %2, so it would be of no help. I walked for a bit longer looking at the headlights of passing cars and street lights before a knot rose in my stomach... I'm lost. I make a left at a stoplight watching the cars pass. My mind went to my mom, "She's probably sleeping" I muttered to my self know she wouldn't have been helpful anyway.

I continued walking until a reached a stone wall, it was covered in graffiti and was maybe 5 feet tall. I looked and saw a few words written on the walls but didn't stop to read them.

Then I saw it, the red gates of Strawberry Fields. "Holy shit" I yelled to no one.

I read the sign and I was right, it was Strawberry Fields with a few words under it like "Forever", "Paul is DEAD", and a few signatures. I couldn't help but laugh, I was smiling like crazy forgetting completely about my previous predicament.

Looking around I didn't see anyone, peering inside the gates it as well seems vacant.

An idea forms in my head, one I know will get me in huge trouble. However, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Gears start to turn in my head, I look around once more.

What if I do what He did? What if I jump the gate and walk around? This was a safe place, a second home. Maybe I could see what it was like. Maybe I could see where the amazing John Lennon spent his time.

God, I sound like a creep... Well, when it came to The Beatles I was, I mean I knew everything about them, it kinda scares my friends and family. I know everything they did to the date. If that didn't count as creepy I don't know what was.

"Ok, That's it! "I yelled out of nowhere, making up my mind.

I looked at the walls I couldn't climb over them but maybe if I found something tall I can jump over. I walked around to see a raised part of the ground like a small hill at the back end of the wall. It was just high enough to jump on the top of the wall and look over a large garden.

I jumped down and land on my hands and knees, slowly I got up and cleaned off the dirt from my hands.

A huge tree if the first thing I see, it overlooks the street and sidewalk. I walk past it to see a small path with small plants along with it. I was somewhat taken care of, but it still had a wild feel to it. Flower and bushes all around hiding the wall I just came from, it was like I entered a whole new planet.

"Hm, I can tell why John came here." I thought. It was peaceful you couldn't hear the cars passing by now and then, only the sound of the leaves crunching under my feet.

I continued on the path until I came upon a bench it sat on a hill slightly overlooking a large part of the garden. I sat down setting my phone and headphone out of my pocket to sit comfortably. Sitting down I noticed a building that was quite modern looking, mostly the store/museum for the place.

I sat for what felt forever humming "Strawberry Fields Forever", then "I will", "Till there was you" until I closed my eyes. I have never felt more relaxed, I started to get drowsy (I wasn't surprised I was humming myself to sleep).

Soon I laid down on the bench eyes still closed...

HIIII I loved writing this way back when, just before high school started. Any way I hope you liked it as much as I do!

#the beatles #john lennon #ringo starr #george harrison #fanfic

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sl-walker · 5 years

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Maybe you’ve done this before, but can you speak to how you came up with all the Blackbirds’ personalities and/or goals? Like what inspired them and such. I think we know the story behind a few, like Raze, but I’m curious about all of them!

Oh gosh. I probably have in pieces, but I’m totally down with answering it. XD Thank you for asking it, too! This’ll get long-ish, so under the cut it goes. But the easy answer is that all of them actually evolved very organically; aside a few notes, I didn’t really plan any of them. They just kind of happened in the best way. But for more detail, read on.

Shiv I stole from a short comic where he was actually fridged at the end on Orto Plutonia. His habit of writing to his dead brother charmed me and broke my heart, and his own end was just a big ole nope. Maul needed a sergeant, I wanted Shiv, so I grabbed him. Even in the short span we saw him in quasi canon, he displayed a dry sense of humor and a quick wit (and some skill at words), so I just built on that limited framework. He would have had to have been highly trained to be an advanced scout like that, he would have had to have been level headed, and beyond that, he really just grew into his own person organically. Him wrestling with losing his twin, him having to process that while coping with the burden of leadership, with a new squad on one side and a green CO on the other, all of that just kind of happened as the story went on.

Tally's definitely been my answer to the habit of people writing mean, snarky medics. I wanted one who was kind to the people in his care, who believed in consent and autonomy. Beyond the fact that the squad was built around Maul -- who would need someone like Tally if he was ever going to learn how to be a person -- it’s just enjoyable to defy the trope. Originally, he was going to be older, more along Husk’s relative age, but it was clear right off that he wasn’t. Of all of them, I think I most end up projecting my ‘politics’ onto him; his open cynicism, his belief in solidarity, his subversiveness and distrust of the establishment. But Tally, no joke, grabs the reins every single time I write his narrative. All of the Blackbirds feel really real when I write them, but he’s the one who often surprises me. I don’t so much think I came up with him as that he ended up with some part of me and then went on to totally do his own damn thing. And if that sounds crazy, I’d love to see someone else try writing him organically and find a different result. LOL! He’s just a really strong personality.

Smarty is a total geek, except not. Because unlike the stereotypical geek portrayal of like, the 1980s, he had no trouble getting laid. He wears graffiti on his battlefield armor. He’s skinnier and softer looking than most of the others, but he’s also kinda fearless and badass. He’s apt to go on and on, but he’s also sharp as hell. I loved the idea of a clone who self-studied everything because 1.) he was intensely bored on Kamino, and 2.) because he has a genuine, enthusiastic passion for learning. Like-- honestly, most of the Blackbirds are subversive not just in narrative, but also outside of it, because defying tropes is a lot of fun, narratively.

Castle’s personality is partly because I love engineers. Scotty from Star Trek is my hero, has been my whole life, and Castle is kind of a sideways homage to him. His skill and talent at building or repairing things, his steadfastness, but also his occasional struggles understanding what’s going on with people internally speaking. Scotty’s his own thing entirely -- don’t even get me started there, the Arc of the Wolf can be googled -- but Castle shares some traits with him. Castle is also a bit more like the clones we see portrayed in canon, which makes him an interesting perspective in this group of odds, ends and eccentricities.

Husk also serves that; of all of them, he is in the mold of Rex and Cody. I wanted someone who was older and had been around for damn ever, who got the full load of indoctrination, both Mando and Kaminoan, and who would offer a more ‘traditional soldier’ perspective on things. One thing is absolutely sure, though, is that I never, ever wrote Husker to be villainized because of that. His view of things -- though it’s evolving now thanks to experience and kinship -- has always been just as legitimate a take as the other Blackbirds and I never wanted him to be portrayed in a bad light because of it. I also wanted him to be 501st originally because that would be an interesting bridge between Skywalker and the Blackbirds, and an interesting conflict Husk would have to work through. His personality kinda grew around all that; his fierce love and loyalty to his brothers, his unique place trying to balance who he was raised to be while being surrounded by the other, more subversive Blackbirds. (He was named in homage to Bill Adama in BSG, too.)

Your boy Misty is kind of the most normal of everyone, honestly. He’s the one who’s managed to not be traumatized by war, or by their upbringing, or by anything else. He’s actually incredibly resilient in that regard. It’s not that he doesn’t feel things deeply, but he seems to have kept from letting those get hooks into his brain, and that’s no small feat in their galaxy. His genuine love of the water was the first thing I knew about him, and it’s remained kind of a constant in how his personality develops. His ability to be a fair leader when put to it, but not enjoying the role, for example; his absolute confidence when he is in charge of something like a water rescue. I’m really looking forward to doing more with him in Year Two and highlighting just how good a specialist he is in that, as well.

Brody was always going to be a slicer, but like the others, his personality just happened over time. I knew he’d be a bit cynical because he already has more exposure to the wider galaxy than the others, but I didn’t anticipate a lot of the nuances. Like his idealism finally getting stoked by Radio Anarchy. That was a lot of fun to see, and brought home that he, too, is a young guy and not immune to hope. The Llanic arc was a big one for Brody, not only in terms of development, but in terms of his entire life after this. His mischief at the Viable ad was also a Moment(tm), but if you asked me what his actual defining arc would be, it’d be Llanic, and it happened kinda on its own.

Raze, as I’ve said, ended up being homage to my son; the ADHD, also the introduction of meds and how those made his life easier, also his cuddly nature and kindness and generosity. His artistic lean, however, is in homage to my oldest kid. I knew he’d be kind of distractable, never on time to meetings, hyper competent in his field, always down for a hair-pet and someone to snuggle up to, and oddly enough, Raze is the one who doesn’t surprise me often. LOL! I guess because I live with his inspiration. His being ace just-- was. I didn’t intend it, but it happened; when I was writing the camping fluff back in the day and Tango was lamenting, Raze was just like, “Nah, not interested.’ He’s just a wonderful, positive presence, and while he’s having an awful time with survivor guilt right now, he’s still wonderful. And I honestly don’t know of anyone who doesn’t love him.

Tango ended up being one of the most complex of the Blackbirds! Like, there is part of him that is definitely me -- “HDU write about this person I love inaccurately, I’ll just have to do it better than you!!!” -- but most of him is actually not. Like-- his actually-pretty-inaccurate crush on Maul. LOL! He loves the idea of being in a relationship with Maul, but doesn’t quite grasp what that would entail realistically? The crush and literally everything else about Tango happened in the course of the story. I knew early about his fanfic leanings, but not how he would get there; I knew about his superstitious streak, but not that he would end up slowly losing it piece by piece in favor of something he can control, namely his writing. His feelings about Rabbit and what happened to Rabbit are more added layers to his complexity. And while Raze is the teras kasi protege, it’s actually Tango who’s probably a bit more Force sensitive than the norm. Nothing to Jedi levels, but there’s something there. His future’s going to be an interesting one. (And Etah and Adao will be a running thread through the whole series.)

Rabbit was always going to be Rabbit. I knew his name and Rancor’s before I even wrote the first chapter. And I knew he wasn’t going to see the end of Year One. I knew that he and his twin were both brand spanking new, and would therefore have to develop on their own, over time, and they did. I had no real personality traits in mind for either, beyond their desperate attachment (and in fairness, co-dependency) with one another. So, he happened. And I wanted him to be a person, even knowing his fate. I didn’t want him to be cannon fodder. I didn’t want the audience to suspect what would eventually happen. And when the time came, it was absolutely, critically important that when I wrote his end, I was sobbing on my keyboard. I had to love him, and to do that, I had to write him well. (And I cried so hard I could barely type, then I cried for hours after, too.)

Rancor is the least developed, but that was by design? I still don’t know him as well as the others. I know he’s Rabbit’s twin and some things about him now, as an individual, but Rancor himself has always been defined by his proximity to his twin. He’s never thought for a second to step out into his own so far as to lose sight of Rabbit, and so he hasn’t. We get hints of it -- his vote on Bravo-984, his punching a clone in the teeth at the climax of that training mission, his possessiveness and anxiety, his basic quiet competence when put to it -- but it’s only really going to be over time that he gets to figure out who he is. He’s always going to be Rabbit’s twin, but now he has no real choice about becoming his own person, and we’ll see how that goes.

Thank you again for the ask! I hope these answers work.

#shiv #tally #castle #husker #brody #smarty #misty #tango #raze #rabbit #rancor #blackbirds: year one #witness me #littlekmac

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o0o-chibaken-o0o · 7 years

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Sooooo I heard you do fic recs 👀 what are the best fics you know that have auror!harry? (Bonus points for auror!draco too!) thanks luvvvv

Hello, love! I had to split my auror!harry recs into two parts because there were just too many incredible fics!! So first, go have a look at my Drarry as Auror Partners list! Then enjoy these auror!harry with miscellaneous!draco (haha is that a thing?) fics as well :D

Auror!Harry Recs

tissue of silver by fearlessdiva (76K)- A love story concerning possessed furniture, black silk pyjamas, courtroom drama, premonitions of doom, assassination attempts, Death Eater yoga, absinthe, bare feet and a sensible werewolf. Draco is a seer and somebody is out to murder him, so Harry moves in to protect him. According to the author, an attempt to explain ‘how Canon Draco could turn into Fanon Draco,’ and I LOVE FANON DRACO

The Full Monty by magpie_fngrl / @cat-wolfe (10K)- Harry poses for a naked Auror calendar and Draco goes batshit crazy with lust.I ALSO WENT BATSHIT CRAZY WITH LUST FOR THIS FIC. So funny. So hot. Baby chick named Arthur. Lawyer!Draco. Has sequel. Perfection

The Good Guys by Frayach (27K)- The Second Voldemort War is limping into its fourth year, and the Forces of Shining Light are slowly turning into the Forces of Expedient Grey. When Draco Malfoy is captured red-handed trying to sell an illegal potion to a clerk at Borgin & Burkes, he is handed over to the Department of Essential and Necessary Truth’s newest interrogator. And as soon as he sees Malfoy, bound and waiting in his cell, Harry Potter knows he’s in trouble. Deep trouble.YO THIS FIC FUCKED ME UP. IT WAS AMAZINGLY GOOD. SUPER WELL-WRITTEN. Not what I would usually recommend because I am bad with endings that are anything but “happily every after,” but READ THIS ANYWAY IT IS ART.

The Unlikely Career Choices of Mr Draco Lucius Malfoy by who_la_hoop (5.5K)- Draco Malfoy is up to something. Something evil. Because he’s certainly not mixing drinks in Muggle London for the good of anybody’s health now, is he?This fic was hilarious and adorable and Draco has all these weird muggle jobs and I LOVED EVERY SECOND OF IT and want to re-read it 27 times.

It Must Be (True Love) by frostywonder (45.5K)- No amount of playing by the rules has made Harry’s life any easier, and Malfoy has matured but also hasn’t. They are who they are, and though they try, neither one can fully change.This fic was super wonderful and compelling and I’ve no idea why it doesn’t have more kudos!! Harry is assigned to watch over Draco’s (dangerous) brewing projects and they both keep almost dying it’s great

On the Turning Away by blamebrampton / @blamebrampton (25.5K)- It’s one thing to be good at not making a besotted fool of yourself over a man when he’s busy being the most famous wizard in the world and you’re tucked away quietly in Wiltshire. It’s quite another when you have to see him every morning.Blaise sends Draco a Christmas Tree in the mail, and somehow this leads to Draco ending up with Harry as his parole officer. Who he has to see every day. Lovely, Christmassy pining!

A Fox’s Bargain by raitala (6K)- Harry made a bargain with Draco. He knew it was going to come back and bite him on the arse, he just didn’t think about what exactly Draco would ask for. Draco would say that Harry must have known deep down what he was agreeing to, but then Draco is a prick and what would he know?AAAH so hot! I don’t care if you probably wanted case fics and this is pretty much just D/S style smut, READ IT SO SEXY.

Partners of the Four-Legged Variety by carpemermaid / @carpemermaidtales (18K)- “Training starts in the home, Potter, so your new Crup and I will need to stay with you for a few weeks while I show you how to properly train and bond with him.” The Auror Department is instating a K9 Crup Unit, and Harry is the first to sign up. Turns out the professional trainer is Draco Malfoy, and he has to live with Harry as part of the Crup training programme.Praise kink!!!!! Pining!!!!!! Living together!!!!! PUPPIES!!!!!!

Chains of Earth by dysonrules (90K)- Draco is kidnapped and forced to make a choice between taking his own life or becoming something less than human. Of course, he makes the right decision. Enter Harry, who discovers he has a bit of a thing for wings.This is a great long case fic!! With veela!Draco. Warning for some Weasley bashing.

Interoffice Communication by Snegurochka (10.5K)- Draco has convinced the Auror department to test his new messaging charm for secure communications. Harry really would have preferred that he not find out through messages like, ‘Yeah, tonight you’re going to beg me for it,’ that the system wasn’t as secure as they thought.Soooo Harry accidentally receives a sexy message (or like twenty) from Draco intended for Blaise, and then he obviously can’t stop thinking about it. And it doesn’t help when Harry’s own name starts coming up ;). Super super hot!

Paint it Red by dicta_contrion / @dictacontrion (5K)- Draco’s a graffiti artist with a bone to pick. Harry’s the P.I. tasked with catching him. Or, apparently, stalking him all over town, asking a lot of questions, and showing surprising artistic talent.Harry’s meant to stop Draco vandalizing, and he fails miserably. Or very very happily, depending on your point of view :D

The Auror Method by Lomonaaeren (43K)- Draco has constructed the perfect cover for his activities as a con-man specializing in thefts from a distance: Draco Malfoy, the redeemed Death Eater and Recluse of Malfoy Manor. But now there’s evidence that some people are onto him, and as a consequence of the death threats issued to him, he gets an assigned Auror guard. Maybe Harry Potter, their leader, could be a problem when it comes to Draco’s latest con. Although how could he, when he’s getting all distracted by Draco’s fluttering eyelashes?This was a very thrilling read! I love Draco and Harry trying to con / figure each other out while totally falling in love at the same time, just GIVE ME THIS TROPE A THOUSAND TIMES.

Fight the Starless Midnight by Maab_Conner (22K)- Harry thought that he was going to arrest Healer Malfoy for practicing without a license. Nothing ever goes as planned.Great fic with a really good case element! When Harry goes to arrest Draco, he discovers an even bigger problem involving Mungo’s. Meanwhile Draco is a (still snarky) saint

When Hearts Are Freed by oldenuf2nb (23K. Locked to AO3 Users only)- When Draco Malfoy’s gallery is robbed and a priceless magical artifact is stolen, he finds himself working with Chief Auror Harry Potter to both recover the fabulous necklace, and to prove he didn’t steal it himself.Draco owns an Art Gallery, which is obviously amazing, and Head Auror Harry is sexy and confident, and YEAH. Great case, great build. YEAH AGAIN.

Here Be Dragons by birdsofshore (22K)- Harry doesn’t want to waste his time investigating illegal dragonhide trading, whether it involves a fetish club in Knockturn Alley or visiting a remote island in Wales. Why the bloody hell does Malfoy always have to be up to something?Harry suspecting Malfoy of things is just the best, and I love this iteration especially. There are dragons!!! And lots of leather!!! And kinky(ish) sex!!!!

#i'm still trying to keep my descriptions down to a few lines #otherwise i would have gushed about all of these forever and a day #i just want to give them all of my love <3<3<3 #rec list #drarry fic recs #drarry fanfic #drarry recs #auror!harry #drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #chibarecs

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denmark101 · 7 years

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Tracking down The Walking Dead in Atlanta

Sooo, I’ve got a bit of a different post for you today – it’s sort of travel-related, but also super fan-girl-ish, so I hope you’re up for that!

As part of our US trip, we headed to Atlanta, and one day last week, spent some time driving around the smaller towns of Griffin and Senoia, Georgia, chasing down locations of the super popular TV show The Walking Dead.

Don’t judge me – I’m a TV junkie, and TWD happens to be one of my favorite shows (yay zombies!), so I thought it’d be cool to visit some of the iconic sites and see where the show is filmed. And since the show returns for its 8th season tonight (whoop!), I thought today would be a great time for this post, to get you in the mood!

I found this very comprehensive map, which was super helpful, and even though some addresses were inaccurate and other buildings have since been torn down or replaced, we did manage to find seven locations. Some are iconic, and others are a bit more niche – how many do you recognize?

1. Terminus

The second half of season 4 centers around our group of survivors, who have been split up after the Governor’s attack on the prison, making their way to Terminus, a sort of promised land, where “those who arrive, survive”. As it turns out, that’s not exactly true, though, but luckily Carol comes to the rescue in a scene that establishes her as a total badass.

Since it was used a few seasons ago, Terminus is now freely accessible. Unfortunately, there’s some sort of junkyard there now, so we couldn’t really get that iconic shot from the video. Here’s a shot from the side instead, for which I climbed on a dumpster. I am nothing if not determined.

2. Abandoned auto shop

We’re still in season 4, where after losing Beth, Daryl meets a raggedy group of men who live by a simple set of rules: if you want something, you have to “claim” it. Daryl stays with them for a few days or so, until they find Rick, Michonne, and Carl, and there’s a bit of a spat. This abandoned auto shop is close to Main Street in Griffin, GA, and though I couldn’t find a reference shot from the outside, it’s where this scene takes place.

The building still looks pretty much the same.

3. The Governor’s barn

Our favorite Big Bad from seasons 3 and 4, the Governor, has a little breakdown after his first attack on the prison fails. He burns down Woodbury, and then sets out on foot. He walks by a barn that’s covered in graffiti, and later assumes a name he reads there, Brian Heriot (you can see this at the 2:35 min mark in the video below).

Also, how great is the song in this video?!

The barn still looks the same (sans graffiti), although the address given in the map I linked to above is slightly off. It is on the same street, though.

4. Woodbury

Woodbury is the Governor’s home base, where Andrea and Michonne end up after being “rescued” in the woods by Merle. Michonne is immediately suspicious (rightly so), but Andrea decides to stay in this walled-off and secure community.

The town of Woodbury was shot in the center of Senoia, GA – this is literally Main Street, with all its little shops and restaurants.

Some more shots of Senoia below.

5. Alexandria Safe Zone

At the end of season 5, Rick and the gang arrive at Alexandria, a “too good to be true” safe city, walled off with giant metal plates, equipped with solar power and running water, and stocked with food.

The set for Alexandria (or ASZ) is smack-dab in the middle of Senoia – you can see it from Main Street! It’s crazy to me that there are people living their everyday lives right next to this giant TV set – where they film zombies, explosions, and the like. It is pretty well cordoned off, though, and obviously you can’t get inside. You can get a pretty good view, though.

7. Glenn & Maggie’s pharmacy

This is a personal favorite of mine – I love Glenn and Maggie as a couple, and this scene was so funny. It’s from early season 2, where the two hook up for the first time in an abandoned pharmacy after they fight off a zombie. So romantic!

The little area you see in the video still looks exactly the same. It’s located in Sharpsburg, and all the small stores are abandoned – which is sort of sad, but also kinda cool, because that way it makes you feel like a walker could be trapped in there!

Bonus: The town of Senoia, Georgia

Even if you’re not into The Walking Dead, Senoia is a lovely little town that’s worth a visit if you’re in the Atlanta area. There are tons of cute little stores (ignore the giant TWD merch store, though), cute cafes, and homestyle restaurants.

You’ll find interior design and decorations stores, local Georgia products, and even a store full of Christmas decor! I got some great autumn and Christmas-themed decorations to bring home with me!

Bonus 2: Lunch at Nic & Norman’s

Allowing myself a complete and utter fangirl moment, we decided to have lunch at Nic & Norman’s, a restaurant on Main St, Senoia, co-owned by co-executive producer of TWD, Greg Nicotero, and Norman Reedus, who plays Daryl Dixon. Spoiler: Sadly, neither of them were present.

It’s a cute little restaurant, the food was nice, and they had a delicious TWD themed beer – Blood Orange IPA by local Terrapin Beer Co. out of Athens, Georgia, which I really liked.

Any fellow TWD fans here? Did you recognize the locations? And are you excited for season 8? Hit me up in the comments!

from The Copenhagen Tales http://ift.tt/2guFFBG

#The Copenhagen Tales

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funface2 · 5 years

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Best Dick Jokes Through History – Why Sexual Comedy About Men Is Important – Esquire.com

Blake Griffin landed a dick joke about Caitlyn Jenner at the Comedy Central Roast of Alex Baldwin, which aired last weekend. “Caitlyn completed her gender reassignment in 2017, finally confirming that no one in that family wants a white dick,” he said to roars of laughter. Was the joke offensive? Racist? Hilarious? All of the above? For her part, Jenner took the dick joke in stride. “Caitlyn was down for it,” one of the writers of the roast said. “She was like, ‘Well, you know, I’m gonna hit hard. I want them to hit me hard.’ And so we did.”

Dick jokes have existed throughout history in nearly every culture known to man, from the greatest literature of all time—Shakespeare and James Joyce—to ancient graffiti. “Weep, you girls. My penis has given you up. Now it penetrates men’s behinds. Goodbye, wondrous femininity!” some anonymous guy scrawled on the wall of a bar in the Roman city of Pompeii around 2,000 years ago. They have been staples of comedy for millennia for a reason: They’re nearly universally appealing.

“Whether you’re rich or poor or black or white, everyone laughs at a dick joke,” says comedian Aaron Berg, who hosts a recurring show at The Stand in New York City. (Berg also hosted a somewhat controversial, entirely satirical show called White Guys Matter that addressed some aspects of white male inadequacy.)

One comedian has elevated dick jokes to poetry, launching them into the realm of high art: Jacqueline Novak, whose one-woman off-Broadway show about blow jobs, Get on Your Knees, manages to make the dick joke both hilarious and high brow. She’s not the first woman to tell a dick joke, nor will she be the last, but she is perhaps the only one to devote a show almost entirely to the penis (with a few minutes sidetracking to ghosts) and be feted by The New York Times for doing so.

Novak, who has been called a “deeply philosophical urologist,” may represent a tipping point in dick jokes, because her show is finally allowing people to see the wisdom (yes, wisdom) in penis humor.

“I don’t even think of myself as like, interested in telling penis jokes. I certainly wouldn’t sit down and go, I’d love to do a show about penises,” Novak says. “I think it’s more like an investigation of my heterosexuality. Does [being heterosexual] mean I love the penis? I’m interested in the language that I’ve been expected to use or accept as legitimate about the penis. Here’s all the reasons that that’s ridiculous.”

Novak’s show is replete with riffs on our “ridiculous” penis language, from the fact that we say the penis is “rock hard”—”No geologist would ever say, this quartz is penis hard“—to the idea that the penis penetrates a woman—”You penetrate me? Fine, but I ate you, motherfucker! I chewed you up! Spit you out, and you loved every goddamn second of it.” In some ways, Novak is the perfect teller of the 21st century dick joke, not only because she is chronicling our hangups about the penis, but also because without a penis of her own, perhaps she is able to see the dick more clearly for what it is, in all its ridiculousness and beauty.

“You penetrate me? Fine, but I ate you, motherfucker! I chewed you up!”

But for the most part, phallic culture remains incoherent. Men are pilloried for exposing their dicks, while Euphoria is celebrated for its 30-penis episode; dick pics are critiqued like Picassos or seen as a public menace; judging a man by the size of his penis is perfectly acceptable or grossly objectifying; porn covers every inch of the internet, yet Facebook won’t accept ads for dildos. Dick jokes are still looked down on as cheap—to be fair, some of them are blatantly bad—but some comics say that isn’t always fair.

“Dick jokes, if you craft something amazing out of them, could be the funniest thing someone’s ever heard. And funny in a way that like, opens your mind up even,” says comedian Sean Patton. “That’s the most important kind of comedy, where you laugh at something to the point where you’re now a little more accepting of it. And that can range from anything to other people’s sexual orientation to accepting your own mental illness.” Patton’s own extended dick joke, “Cumin” on Comedy Central’s This Is Not Happening, has been viewed over 2 million times on YouTube.

Jacqueline Novak performs at the 2019 Clusterfest in June.

Jeff KravitzGetty Images

Novak uses the blow job to critique cultural expectations of masculinity and the pressure women feel to become skilled at sexually pleasing men. “The teeth shaming starts early, of course,” she says in her show. “If you have your full set of teeth…don’t go into a room where a penis is. It’s not safe for him. Why would you put him at risk?”

Patton likens the dick joke to a “Trojan horse” of comedy. “You make them laugh hard at dick jokes, now they’re listening,” he says. “Then you can throw in something a little more meaningful, and they’re on board.”

Not that all dick jokes need to be intellectual to be taken seriously. The song “D*** in a Box” by The Lonely Island, featuring Justin Timberlake, won an Emmy. It turns out the concept wasn’t exactly new. “Decades before The Lonely Island, B.S. Pully was doing that in the ’40s and ’50s,” comedy historian Kliph Nesteroff says. “Pully would be holding a cigar box at his groin, walking down the aisle. [He would] start a show saying, ‘Cigar, would you like a cigar?’ Then he would lift up the lid, and there was a hole cut in there, and his dick was hanging out. The audience would go crazy.”

Dick jokes continue to thrive off audience reactions, according to several comedians I talked to. Bonnie McFarlane, who is best known for her appearance on Last Comic Standing and her Netflix documentary Women Aren’t Funny, began telling dick jokes when she started out in 1995. “You tell dick jokes because it’s a very male audience, so that’s what they want to hear about,” she says. “It’s been a thing since comedy started. People can really kill if they’re just doing dick jokes.” But there is a double standard, she says, when female comics are made fun of “for talking about their vaginas too much.”

That Novak, a female comic, is revolutionizing the dick joke makes sense, considering that historically, “the vanguard for so-called dick jokes and sexual material comes first and foremost from women rather than men,” Nesteroff says. He points to female comics Rusty Warren, Belle Barth, Pearl Williams, and LaWanda Page as “probably the four quote-unquote ‘dirtiest’ comedians of the ’50s and ’60s, more so than Lenny Bruce, more so than Redd Foxx.”

LaWanda Page performs for The Dean Martin Celebrity Roast in 1978.

NBCGetty Images

He also says African Americans pushed dick jokes further than any other ethnicity. African-American comedian Page’s albums from the 1970s were rich with dick jokes, referencing “the size of the man, the endurance of the man,” Nesteroff says. As Page recites in her 1973 comedy album Pipe Layin’ Dan: “Husband, dear husband, now don’t be a fool/you’ve worked on the night shift ’til you’ve ruined your tool/you’d better go hungry the rest of your life/than to bring home a pecker so soft to your wife.”

“LaWanda [told] dick jokes for the same reasons a lot of black comics do, because they had to come up in the chitlin circuit, which is basically comedy clubs or bars or places where only black audiences mainly go,” says comedian Harris Stanton, who has toured with Tracy Morgan. “When I started comedy [in 1999] I started in the chitlin circuit,” he continues. “Urban comedy became this big explosion in the United States. A lot of the young black comics couldn’t get into a lot of mainstream clubs, so they would have to perform wherever they could, and dick jokes were welcome to those places.”

African Americans were pioneers of the dick joke, but they definitely weren’t the only ethnic group telling them. Three of the other female sex-joke pioneers Nesteroff mentioned were Jewish. Pearl Williams was known for roasting overweight men when they entered the comedy club by asking, “How long has it been since you’ve seen your dick?” Lenny Bruce, one of the most famous Jewish comedians, was arrested for saying schmuck on stage in 1962. Seven years later, another famous American Jew, Philip Roth, published Portnoy’s Complaint, which is essentially a 274-page dick joke, or so some claim.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen your dick?”

“I probably owe a debt to Philip Roth that I’m not even fully aware of,” says Novak, who is Jewish. She references him directly in her show, joking, “I went off to college feeling good. It’s a Catholic-ish college. Lots of virgin boys scurrying around, scrambling for sexual experience at parties. Not me. I’m a Jew and I did the coursework in high school, so I felt like a Philip Roth figure. A Jewish pervert ready to teach.”

Jewish male comics may be drawn to dick jokes, according to Berg, who is Jewish, because, “the fact that our penises were intruded upon at a very young age probably gives us a fixation on it and makes us want to talk about it more.”

Dr. Jeremy Dauber, the Atran professor of Yiddish language, literature, and culture at Columbia University and author of Jewish Comedy, traces Jewish dick jokes all the way back to the Bible. The earliest case of laughter in Jewish tradition is Sarah’s laughter when she’s told that her 100-year-old husband Abraham will give her a child. It is “a laughter about male impotence,” Dauber says.

But comedians aren’t just laughing at penises anymore. Novak is going in the opposite direction. “I’m trying to restore [the penis] to true dignity.” Will her intellectual blow job jokes allow the dick joke to be taken more seriously? Will future comedians have to deal with the flack that Patton still gets in his reviews?

“Even like positive reviews, sometimes they’ll still point out there’s also a lot of cock, cock cock,” he says. “Why do you have to make sure everyone knows that you thought some of the subject matter was lowbrow?” He thinks reviewers roll their eyes at his dick talk because “everyone constantly is terrified that those around them don’t think that they’re that smart.”

Comedy is one of the only art forms that allows us to talk about male genitalia so openly and democratically. Whatever form the dick joke takes, from idiotic to intellectual, from poetry to prop comedy, as long as it gets a laugh, it should be celebrated. And there’s no better way to diffuse the angst surrounding the modern-day penis than a well-crafted dick joke. The more we laugh about penises (and not just at them), the happier the world might be.

Hallie Lieberman Hallie Lieberman is a sex historian and journalist, and the author of “Buzz: A Stimulating History of the Sex Toy.”

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Bài viết Best Dick Jokes Through History – Why Sexual Comedy About Men Is Important – Esquire.com đã xuất hiện đầu tiên vào ngày Funface.

from Funface https://funface.net/best-jokes/best-dick-jokes-through-history-why-sexual-comedy-about-men-is-important-esquire-com/

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nofomoartworld · 7 years

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Art F City: L.A. Art Diary Week Four (Everyone Loves Eames, Erotic Art, and More)

Screenprint by Polkela, seen at Co-Lab Gallery.

In his fourth week in Los Angeles, Michael Anthony Farley discovers that there’s not enough to do on weekdays and way too much to do on weekends. Here’s how he spent the weekend. Everyone loves Ray and Charles Eames, and erotic art.

Catch up on Week One, Week Two (and Week Two, Part Two), and Week Three.

Friday 7/14

I am working from a Starbucks in a nondescript strip mall near a Gold Line station in Pasadena. I stand in line for my second coffee, and give my name to the barista, when the man behind me asks “Michael? Michael what?” I turn around and realize I’ve just run into an old buddy from art school in Baltimore who I haven’t seen since we graduated. We chat about how we both ended up in the same suburban California Starbucks, thousands of miles from our hometown.

He moved out here to work in visual effects on films. Now, he’s attending a graduate program at the Art Center College of Design a few blocks away, learning virtual reality skills for the coming boom in demand. He tells me that he, like all the contract artists who work on big blockbusters, is under constant surveillance by the studios to make sure footage doesn’t leak as it did in the X-Men Origins: Wolverine debacle. I immediately start mentally formulating the plot of a William Gibson-esque thriller.

Hopping on the Gold Line back into the city, I transfer to the subway, on my way to the Expo Line—the newest and arguably most-praised piece of L.A.’s odd rail network. It’s irritating that you have to pay for each transfer (bringing the cost of a three-line rail trip to about the same as a Lyft line ride) but otherwise I’m pretty impressed by how much smoother and cleaner L.A.’s trains are than aging East Coast systems. I feel slightly vindicated for my uncommon decision to take public transit when I look down out the window of the elevated train and see untold millions of cars sitting in seemingly endless gridlock. The opening I’m heading to (oddly, the sole art event I could find on a Friday evening) is at The Landing, a gallery about 16 miles Southwest from my starting point. Google Maps tells me the trip will take around an hour and a half by public transit. Not wanting to repeat my usual mistake of showing up too late for L.A.’s early-to-bed art scene, I plan to get there around 6 p.m.

(L-R) Ryan Fenchel, “Sidereal Procession, the Adept in Public”; Don Edler, “Chaise Lounge for Celeste and Unmonumental Table,” 2017 (with John Zane Zappas Ashtray); Gary Knox Bennett, “Pair of Eames Chairs Assemblage,” 1959.

By some strange magic of perfectly-timed transfers, I actually arrive to the opening early. For about half an hour I’m the only one in the gallery, and the staff are shocked that I beat rush hour traffic and found parking. I explain that I took the train, which has an elevated station nearly directly above the gallery.

“Wow. What’s that like? I didn’t know anyone used it!”’

I wouldn’t say the train was packed, but it was far from empty. The opening on the other hand, remains pretty dead for the majority of time I hang around, which is confusing because the show is great and they’ve laid out the most impressive buffet of snacks I have ever seen (another strike of good luck, since my opening/dinner buddy cancelled on me last minute).

Gabrielle Garland

The group show, The Useful and the Decorative, pays tribute to The Landing’s former identity as a design gallery. It’s a collection of art objects that allude to functional designwares from plates to furniture. It’s right up my alley, as I love both painterly surfaces and midcentury modernism—two things that are rarely conflated outside of nonrepresentational painting. Here, though, design classics such as Le Corbusier’s chaise lounge and the much-treasured Eames recliner populate endearingly wonky paintings of interiors by Gabrielle Garland. She’s cleverly balanced expressive brushwork with subjects iconic enough to be legible despite warped perspective. There are no figures in the paintings. Staring into each domestic space, I imagine this is what it must be like to take an ayahuasca trip in one of those immaculate California homes from the pages of Dwell. It occurs to me that’s probably not an uncommon occurrence.

Don Edler, “Anthropocentric Tablet and Chablet Tair,” 2017.

The other highlight of the show is Don Edler’s work, which “fossilizes” contemporary design objects on the verge of obsolescence in hydrocal—iPhones, calculators, credit cards, and so forth. One piece in particular, “Anthropocentric Tablet” reminds me of Michael Jones McKean’s recent dystopic anthropology museum at The Contemporary. In both installations, there’s a sense that the world as we know it will disappear, and our material culture will be a cryptic piece of archeology for another to interpret.

I take the train back Downtown and an old friend from Baltimore, Neale, picks me up at the end of the line to catch up. We’re sitting on his balcony in a particularly picturesque corner of Echo Park when I notice a friend from Berlin has checked in on Instagram a few blocks away. I message my friend, filmmaker Yony Leyser, and find out he’s in town touring his documentary Queercore: How to Punk a Revolution. He invites us to an event at the Tom of Finland Foundation nearby and we decide to walk over.

In the garden of the Tom of Finland house.

As I should’ve come to expect by now, the walk takes far longer than we anticipated and everyone’s already hopping in Ubers by the time we arrive. Tom of Finland’s former home strikes me as surprisingly cutesy (a sentence I never thought I would type). Neale explains, “Navigating L.A. by Google Maps always fucks me up because you zoom in and there are grids within grids and the blocks are huge. It’s like watching Powers of 10.” Despite its Bermuda-Triangle-like navigational challenges, Los Angeles constantly redeems itself with Eames references.

We’re given an address to a secret-ish warehouse venue downtown, where a mini-festival of queer erotic performance art and video screenings is taking place. As soon as we arrive, someone wins a door prize comprised of various dildos. A performer described as “a proudly non-binary artist who prefers to be identified by their LinkedIn profile” begins lip-synching to Alice DeeJay’s 1999 club hit “Better Off Alone” while presenting their anus.

Having spent my day criss-crossing vast distances, I am deliriously tired. We’re being steered to some chill-out installation apparently intended to re-center our sexual qis or realign our erotic chakras or cleanse our auras (or something with crystals?). I’m told there’s no alcohol and I realize I probably can’t get through whatever this is without it. Yony disappears on foot to find an open liquor store. We warn him that after midnight in L.A. is the equivalent of 4 A.M. in any other city, but he persists.

He rounds a dark corner and it’s the last we see of him.

Saturday 7/15

Bodega Vendetta

I wake up on Neale’s couch and walk another deceptively far, scorching hot “10 blocks” to a friend-of-a-friend’s apartment who is a curator. He shows me this drawing by Bodega Vendetta and never have I wished more that a work on paper was an animated GIF.

Over the course of hours, I receive multiple conflicting texts from friends encouraging me to attend different events that all begin around the same time many miles apart. An art magazine release party! An opening in Culver City! An opening an hour away in the opposite direction! A party at a collector’s house! A party at a gallerist’s house! Yony’s screening! A party that’s “the L.A. pop-up of Club Glam”! (I am told that saying something is “The L.A. pop-up of _____” lends it credence, even if it’s a thing that hasn’t actually existed anywhere else.) I think about all the weeknights I’ve spent looking for something (anything) to do here and realize L.A. has the most extreme case of problematic weekend-loading I have ever encountered.

Megan St. Clair “FIRST PLANT,” oil on wood. Houseplant art is alive and well at Co-Lab Gallery.

I settle on attending The Co-Lab Gallery’s closing party with Liz Eldridge because I have heard good things from several friends about the Highland Park institution. Many of my peers in Los Angeles have small but impressive art collections, and a big chunk of those works came from Co-Lab. The gallery functions more like a retail space than a traditional white cube model—it’s jam-packed with art hung salon-style, with tables full of ceramics and racks of prints and other artist-made knick-knacks. This is a display strategy that normally would drive me crazy, but here it works because so much of the art is actually good and the volume allows the gallery to keep prices accessible. There are a handful of paintings priced under $100 that I’m seriously tempted to buy, but remember that figure represents about one week’s worth of necessary Uber rides here. I’m slightly ashamed that I’ve allowed L.A. to add another step in Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.

Anti-gentrification wheat pastes in front of The Co-Lab Gallery.

I’m introduced to gallerist Kristin Hector, who first opened the space in Koreatown seven years ago, but has been in Highland Park for the past three. I ask her why the gallery is closing, and she blurts out “It’s not gentrification backlash! Everyone always assumes that!” (As in many pockets of East L.A., art galleries such as Co-Lab and “hipster” businesses like coffee shops and yoga studios along York Boulevard are frequently targeted by anti-gentrification graffiti.)

She explains that she wants to move into a larger space and shift the focus of the practice. I ask her if the jam-packed hang is indicative of every show or just a “going-out-of-business” sale vibe.

“Oh this is what all of our group shows are like!” she explains, between shouting out unthinkably reasonable prices across the room, “I love so many different aesthetics. It’s fun to see different styles come together—this is a good example,” she gestures to a wall of paintings that alternate between provisional painting, expressionist figuration, and realism, “Always colorful! Always a little ridiculous, and sometimes dark but vibrant!”

Liz and our friend Brittney are enthusiastically flipping through a rack of prints and other works on paper, asking each other for advice. Since wall space is already at a premium in Liz’s sunny Craftsman bungalow, I suggest investing in one painting for the same price as several cheaper pieces. We move around the room, deliberating. We’re both drawn to Julian Tan’s small acrylic paintings on panel. Each is obsessively jam-packed with detail, describing chaotic domestic spaces. (Naturally, as in the Gabrielle Garland paintings from the night before, Eames chairs make cameos. I start to think that if all artists in L.A. have such comfortable and tasteful furniture, it makes sense people become homebodies when they move here from cramped East Coast apartments).

Julian Tan’s cryptically detailed acrylic on wood paintings.

Liz—ever the dramaturg—begins excitedly fabricating narratives for each mise-en-scène: “This is clearly a room of privilege; it’s a kid who doesn’t understand what he has! I feel like this is the teenage fantasy of someone who grows up to be in the alt-right,” gesturing to an interior full of swords, video games, and other boy toys. Then, “Wait, is he making meth in this one? Meth AND an Eames chair?”

The paintings are all hypnotically captivating, but one detail (other than the titular cinematic reference) draws me to “2001 IS ON, LET’S CHILL”. On the coffee table a copy of Haruki Murakami’s “1Q84” is described with a remarkable economy of tiny brush strokes. It’s one of my personal favorite books of the past few years, so I could spot its signature cover anywhere, but Tan’s ability to squeeze so much charmingly shaky detail into a few square millimeters is still impressive. Its inclusion also complicates the “bro-iness” of the other objects in the homes—one of the book’s main plot lines is in essence a feminist revenge tale.

Liz ends up purchasing the piece (and plenty of works on paper too) and we leave ecstatically talking about how good owning art feels. On the way out, we overhear that the gallery’s new reincarnation will actually be as an art rental facility for film sets in North Hollywood, close to Studio City and its endless sound stages. At first we’re disheartened to hear that—Co-Lab seems to have filled a niche position in the city wherein young creative types could actually afford to support their peers. I then remember Mel Chin’s collective GALA Committee, which infiltrated the set dressing of Melrose Place with conceptual artworks. Kristin Hector seems to have a penchant for curating works with sneaky details, and I’m optimistic Co-Lab’s next incarnation might carry that torch.

L.A., after all, owes its cultural gravitas to the intersections of art and spectacle, counterculture and schlock. Who knows what books might show up on the coffee tables of shitty sitcoms and soap operas in the years to come? As we dive ever deeper into this latest battle of the culture wars, tactics like that will only become more vital than the first time around.

Detail from Julian Tan’s “2001 IS ON, LET’S CHILL,” Acrylic on wood.

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funface2 · 5 years

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Best Dick Jokes Through History – Why Sexual Comedy About Men Is Important – Esquire

“You penetrate me? Fine, but I ate you, motherfucker! I chewed you up!”

Jacqueline Novak performs at the 2019 Clusterfest in June.

Jeff KravitzGetty Images

LaWanda Page performs for The Dean Martin Celebrity Roast in 1978.

NBCGetty Images

“How long has it been since you’ve seen your dick?”

Hallie Lieberman Hallie Lieberman is a sex historian and journalist, and the author of “Buzz: A Stimulating History of the Sex Toy.”

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Bài viết Best Dick Jokes Through History – Why Sexual Comedy About Men Is Important – Esquire đã xuất hiện đầu tiên vào ngày Funface.

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funface2 · 5 years

Text

Best Dick Jokes Through History – Why Sexual Comedy About Men Is Important – Esquire.com

“You penetrate me? Fine, but I ate you, motherfucker! I chewed you up!”

Jacqueline Novak performs at the 2019 Clusterfest in June.

Jeff KravitzGetty Images

LaWanda Page performs for The Dean Martin Celebrity Roast in 1978.

NBCGetty Images

“How long has it been since you’ve seen your dick?”

Hallie Lieberman Hallie Lieberman is a sex historian and journalist, and the author of “Buzz: A Stimulating History of the Sex Toy.”

Let’s block ads! (Why?)

Source link

Bài viết Best Dick Jokes Through History – Why Sexual Comedy About Men Is Important – Esquire.com đã xuất hiện đầu tiên vào ngày Funface.

from Funface https://funface.net/best-jokes/best-dick-jokes-through-history-why-sexual-comedy-about-men-is-important-esquire-com/

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