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kit-williams · 4 months

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Barn Anon. In my defence, it's not yet Feb. I promise I have a happier one after this one. Wanted to explore the Warp fuckery or rather those that are "immune" to it. :)

You wanted to scream, want to grab your aunt and yell at her that she's crazy. That... thing that she's brought to the family reunion... It doesn't belong here! It's not even human, nor is it a pet like a dog or a cat. Why is everyone so calm? why is everyone smiling? Don't they see how it's armed to the teeth? Don't they see that chainsaw sword thing that it carries around with it? Doesn't anyone notice how it's sharp edges have some dried bloodstains?

You politely excuse yourself and rush out of the house to stand at the back porch. Deep breaths. In. Out. You look out at the single tree that grows at the back, the stars that dot the sky. You manage to come back down from the emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. Laughter creeps out from the house, you see that…thing acting all shy and bashful and you feel like throwing up. Does no one else see that thing for the danger it is? The majority of the world seems to be the same regardless of location or culture. You've seen the pictures and videos of people around the globe with their Space Marines and how everyone else would comment how they wish they had a Space Marine of their own. Just last week your friend was excitedly showing you a video of a guy and his Space Marine summitting some mountain together, with the guy excitedly hugging his Space Marine.

The only comfort you have is that you aren't alone. There's others that see the true danger of these Space Marines. It's a small minority and there are few spaces online that you can talk about it. This small community has a theory that Space Marines must have some form of mind control or that they plan to overthrow humanity. It didn't matter to you if you agreed to those theories, you're just relieved to find others that understand. You know you can't tell your parents, oh god no. They'll think you're crazy or worse, some sort of conspiracy theorist or extremist. You're not crazy! I-It's them that's insane, they're the ones that need help.

You open the chatroom start typing away, venting to like-minded sane individuals. You know you're right. Your family is in danger, they just can't see it yet but you can save them. They'll thank you in the end. You'll find a way to get rid of that Space Marine, somehow.

Thank you for feeding into my weird idea about how it is just a bit of warp fuckery cuz lets be honest no one would just do what the husbandry tag does unless it's some sort of warp fuckery.

Besides I'm always a lover of the Eldritch (Also you cannot tell me as a Catholic that biblically accurate angels aren't some sort of eldritch abominations straight out of Lovecraft just with more fire and feathers motif vs oceanic) and to imply something is just wrong under the surface is my jam

How can people not see that these things aren't normal?!

You do your research finding old and you mean old newspapers from the 20's and there is nothing about Astartes at all. Up until the 40's where suddenly there are pictures of them... some of them being seen in old war videos.

Some theorize that that Nazi Occultism brought them here but they are all beyond our petty conflicts as seen with the futile attempt there was to bring them into the Korean war. They only cared about their "companions". There use to be so much more uproar in papers about them but once the baby boomers were born that's suddenly when everyone was okay with them. Only the people in the Silent Generation and the GI generation were complaining about the Astartes and then suddenly their children or grandchildren were okay with them.

You continue to read as the generations went on... Gen X and Millennials saw the least amount of pushback... Millennials it was considered weird to have the opinion you have now. You run your fingers through your hair looking at the newspaper articles as you now realize that Gen z and Gen Alpha will only grow up with "positive" connotations.

Gone were the idea that only Loyalist astartes were safe to own and then it moved to include renegades and unaligned. You shudder at the thought of your cousin with a Khornite living with them. They're going to die you've tried to warn them but you worry their Astarte might know what's up... they are so much smarter. You pale seeing an old guide about a Blood Angel going into a rage... you shutter at the article.

Your parents are talking about getting one but you managed to convince them that they can get one once you move out. You read the chat and how someone's posted about how a kid was recently abducted by one... or another about how some Gen Alpha kids can even speak their language... and then the theory about bonding that seems to come up when the kids explain their space marine... oh great a wild idea that you get chosen and have no choice in the matter.

You look behind you as you make your way home late trying to desperately avoid the dark alleyways and crossing the road when you see people walking with their Astartes. You've already found out nice communities that don't allow Astartes to live there so you can get away from the madness.

#Barn Anon #warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry #tales from the barn #space marine husbandry sentience

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evita-shelby · 1 year

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A different sort of man

part ii

Gif by @nofckingfighting

The witch scours through every book on magic she owns, and Thomas spends the time trying to see how different this Tommy’s life is from his.

The tattoo on his hand is different.

Instead of TGC, he sees an entwined E and T. Same monogram on the linens, tiles on the floors and carved on his own desk.

“You got it done on our first anniversary in 1921, we didn’t have Charlie yet.” The witch answers as she tossed another book into the stack and leafed through the next one. “Charlie was born in 1922, September to be exact. We eloped on June 1920 and a month ago we had a church wedding to cover up the Russian business and because our families ---mainly Polly and my aunts--- demanded we pretend to be good catholic people despite us being atheists.”

“How do you know about the Russians?” he tensed.

He didn’t confide in anyone save Polly, he couldn’t trust Grace even after three years. Too many lies, too many things ruined by her presence alone.

Even his family was distancing themselves from him because they can’t stand her.

“Because you tell me things, we are not just husband and wife, we are also business partners, have been since I told you Grace was the rat and told Campbell about Black Star Day.” She answered before muttering a curse, tossed the book and began searching through the couch cushions.

Lucky, lucky Thomas Shelby, this Tommy has a wife he can trust, with a good head on her shoulders and a spark of gypsy magic.

Something gnaws at him because he knows he cannot even begin to comprehend why he even sought Grace out in London in the first place.

“Should your stay last longer than it should, I am perfectly equipped to handle everything the other you has left pending. I act as your proxy when you aren’t available, if I do need you to make an appearance, I will brief you on it.” The witch runs a tight ship it seems.

“Mrs. Shelby, Mrs. Gray is here.” Mary, the same housekeeper he employes said with a little more warmth than her counterpart.

“Thank you, Mary. Please send her in, I am afraid it is rather urgent.” She thanked the housekeeper with a smile.

Grace was not an easy woman to please, demanded perfection, demanded that everyone knew their place and would never have even acknowledged Mary with a smile.

Where had this woman been all these years, he found himself asking.

“71 Watery Lane, with my daj, Ethel Smith.” She answered his unspoken question to his horror.

“You aren’t you.” Polly cuts to the chase as they meet in his office.

“No. Believe it or not, when I went to sleep my wife’s name was Eva, my son Charlie was five months older and I would have never sought out Grace Burgess for what she did to us six years ago.” Tommy explained to Polly, she was closer to the original one, but there was a coldness to their interactions.

He couldn’t blame her, Eva had told him that Grace believed Pol to have incestuous feelings toward him and assumed it was jealousy and not disgust because she saw her for who she was.

“If only that version of you had your sensibility, boy.” His aunt said with pity aimed at the man whose body he occupied.

This Thomas had a similar tattoo on his hand, except for the monogram Eva has on tiles and linens, there is a G for Grace, a C for Charles and a T for Thomas.

This man’s feelings were not strong enough to keep it just their initials, he had to add the baby that turned a fuck up into his life.

“Yeah, if only.” He found himself agreeing as he tossed the photograph of Grace into a drawer.

This house was a dark and gaudy shrine to her and him, he had not been surprised to know she had not curtailed his less than fashionable décor. Worse, Grace Burgess had enabled him.

Grace’s tastes seemed to exist within the confinements of her wardrobe and even that was questionable.

If Eva were here she would have burned the garish purple wedding dress with unabashed gusto, along with every portrait he commissioned.

He missed her, not even three hours apart from her and he wants to return to her and his much, much happier life.

“What do we know about Eva Smith, granddaughter of Ethel Smith at 71 Watery Lane?” he doesn’t hear the quiet gasp until Polly’s dark eyes zero in at the woman spying on them.

Fuck.

Fuck him, fuck her, fuck them all.

If Grace was just as he remembered, she will be calling the All Saints’ Hospital to throw him in there before the sun sets today.

As if he didn’t already have the Russians to deal with too.

#eva smith shelby #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby x oc #eva x tommy

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baronessblixen · 1 year

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23. Mistletoe kiss! (I think you know who)

Thank you for the prompt! This turned into a sequel to Christmas With The Scullys, but I think it can also be read on its own. It's very fluff.

Wc: 2,231 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Mistletoe Musings

Gooey darkness greets him as he slowly comes to, trying to blink away the sleep from his eyes. He wakes up languidly, stretching his legs, amazed at how soft this bed is. How quiet everything is here. How wonderful it smells.

Wait.

Mulder opens his eyes fully, looking around. His head is throbbing in tandem with his heartbeat. Where the fuck is he and why is he not alone in his bed? First things first. This, he realizes seeing a picture of a very young Scully and her siblings – Bill may have grown, but he hasn’t changed – on the nightstand, is not his bed, or his home. The memories return to him in scraps. Hospital. Concussion. Scully’s car. Scully’s mother’s house.

The bed he’s sleeping in is Scully’s. The person he’s sharing the bed with is… Scully. His eyes are still getting used to the dark, but now that he knows, he can see her. The lump under the comforter is without a doubt his partner. This isn’t the first time they’re sharing a bed, but it’s the first time they’re sharing her bed.

He doesn’t remember why they put him up here in Scully’s room. Does her mother think they’re dating? Scully, still asleep, chooses that moment to scoot closer to him, sighing deeply. Her scent is intoxicating. So is her proximity. If his mind keeps going down this path, his head will soon no longer be the only thing throbbing.

What he has to do is get a grip. This is Scully. She brought him here because he got himself hurt – again – and he couldn’t be left alone. Like a child. He’s crashing her Christmas because he acted before thinking.

He should thank Scully and all his lucky stars that he’s here and alive, not dead in some ditch, or all alone in a hospital. His eyes find Scully and his mind stops racing. A smile breaks on his face, just watching her sleep. He shifts the tiniest bit closer to her, hoping she won’t wake. When she doesn’t stir, he wills himself to relax. His eyes watching her, he’s being pulled back to sleep, too.

“Why can’t we wake them?” Someone not too quietly whispers. “I want to see what Santa brought!”

“Shhh. Let them sleep a moment longer.” Another voice chimes in, more familiar and more mature. It must be Mrs. Scully.

“Huh?” Scully, who at some point during the night decided to use his chest as a pillow, wakes up and as soon as she realizes how close they are, she gasps. But she doesn’t move away. She glances at him, her mind playing catch up, and then she smiles.

“Good morning,” she says.

“Grandma, they’re awake!” Two Scully children exclaim and both Mulder and Scully turn towards the door where Mrs. Scully stands with the biggest grin on her face.

“You better hurry,” she says, chuckling. “These kids are in a hurry.”

“Aunt Dana and the fox are awake!” One of the children screams, running down the stairs.

“What time is it?” Mulder asks once they’re alone again.

“Early,” Scully replies with a yawn. “Too early. How’s your head?”

“Scully, why is your very Catholic mother not at all fazed that I’m in your bed?”

“I take it your head is better.” Her words don’t stop her from touching the bump on his head and he winces. “There’s not enough space with half my family here. Is your head not better? Do we need to go back to the hospital?” Her hand is still on his head, but now she’s cradling it.

“No. No, we don’t. You’re important to me,” he says, remembering saying the same thing to her last night. He wants to say it again. Needs to say it again. There are no painkillers in his blood. Even the adrenaline is gone. If she didn’t believe him last night, she cannot deny it this morning.

“You told me last night. Do you- do you remember what happened yesterday?”

“I know I said it last night,” he assures her. “I do remember what happened. Well, mostly. I know where we are, and I know who I am, and I know who you are. What else do I need? I just wanted to say it again so that you know I meant it.”

“Thank you, Mulder,” she says, blushing faintly. “I meant it, too.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.” He grins at her, his head moving towards hers. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows that they were supposed to get up and go downstairs where a plethora of Scullys wait for them. But what he really wants is to drink in Scully’s sleep-tousled hair, her make-up-free morning face full of freckles, and her inviting lips.

“Mulder,” she says, his name sounding like a murmur. Her eyes flicker to his lips, letting him know that she wants this, too. But before their mouths meet, his brain fires another word at him.

“Mistletoe,” he says, right before their lips meet. “We talked about mistletoe last night, didn’t we?” Scully chuckles, her eyes closing briefly.

“We did.”

“I still don’t know if there is any downstairs.”

“I think it’s time you find out.”

They draw all eyes to them when they enter Mrs. Scully’s living room. For a moment Mulder isn’t sure whether he’s seeing double. He’s never seen so many people for Christmas. They’re everywhere.

“Finally,” a kid says with a groan, crawling towards the tree and the presents there. Scully takes his hand, leading him toward the couch where her mother is sitting. Mulder feels several pairs of eyes bore into him. Most prominently Bill Jr.’s. He swallows hard, smiling at everyone else.

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Scully says. “There really is not enough space here.” She motions to the couch and Mulder realizes she’s right. There’s just enough space for one more person. They can’t very well ask the old lady with her cup of tea to sit on the floor.

“I can, um, stand over there,” Mulder says, pointing. “It’s fine.”

“Don’t be silly,” Mrs. Scully says. “Dana can sit on your lap. Come on now,” she urges. “You’re going to miss all the fun.”

Mulder and Scully exchange a quick look. If they don’t sit down soon, they will make it worse. Though Mulder isn’t sure things can be worse now.

“Sit down,” Scully says, her voice soft. She touches his arm, letting him know it’s okay. This is at once a dream and a nightmare come true. But he sits down, the couch sinking under his weight. Mrs. Scully nods at him, smiling before she redirects her focus back to the children. The only person still watching them is Bill Jr.

Mulder’s head is throbbing but he ignores it, waiting for Scully to sit on his lap. His Scully on his lap. She’s light as a feather, feeling just right sitting here. His arms go around her waist of their own volition. She leans against him, throwing him a quick smile. As he watches everyone tear through their presents, wrapping paper flying everywhere, he wonders if this is happening or a side effect of his concussion. Last night, he shared a bed with Scully. This morning, she’s sitting in his lap.

“This one’s for you, Dana.” Someone hands Scully a present and he rests his head on her shoulder to watch her unwrap it.

“What a beautiful scarf,” she says. “Thank you, Aunt Sylvia.”

“It’s from Santa,” one of the children reminds her.

“You’re right,” Scully says, laughing. “Thank you, Santa.” She turns around to look at Mulder, still smiling. He’s never seen her like this, like Dana. Being around her family grounds her, mellows her. She’s the most beautiful he’s ever seen her.

“Happiness looks good on you,” he whispers.

“It looks good on you, too,” she says, wrapping the scarf around him. It already smells like her and he doesn’t ever want to take it off. She’s right: he’s happy. It’s been more years than he can count since he’s felt this peaceful on Christmas.

“I know you had no choice,” Mulder says, his voice breaking. “But thank you for bringing me here.”

“I wanted you here, Mulder. I could have left you in the hospital.”

“I need to find that mistletoe,” he says. As much as he wants to kiss her – and do it right now – it might just be the last straw for Bill Jr.

“Look around,” Scully whispers, making him shiver all over. He does. His eyes scan the whole room and then, finally, he sees it. Mistletoe right by the window. He knew he could count on Mrs. Scully. Now all he has to do is be patient. He’s grinning like a Cheshire cat, much to the delight of the other grown up guests. He hopes they don’t know what he’s thinking about. But even if they do, he can’t care. Not tonight. Today he will receive the greatest Christmas gift he can imagine. He will get to kiss Scully.

In the end, it’s probably no more than an hour. To Mulder, it feels endless. The last present is unwrapped, the children are happy and playing with their toys, and the adults are refilling their coffees to stay awake and alert. Mulder doesn’t need caffeine. He’s thirsty for something else. But Tara has grabbed Scully by the arm and now the two women are in the kitchen while Mulder hangs around the mistletoe by himself.

“So you are Dana’s partner.” A woman approaches him, holding a plate with cookies. She offers one to Mulder and he politely takes one. “I’m her aunt. I’ve been very curious about you.”

“Hmm?” Is all he can say with his mouth full of cookie.

“Maggie told me all about you and Dana. She was hoping you’d be here. I love Dana, but these last few years,” she trails off, sighing. “It was obvious that there was always something missing. Someone missing. It was you. It’s good to see my favorite niece smile again. Don’t tell Bill Jr. I called Dana my favorite.” She winks at him and Mulder smiles, trying to process what he just heard.

He doesn’t get much time, because Scully returns to the living room, walking towards him. He forgets everything else. There is no one else in this room but them. His head doesn’t hurt. The only reason his knees are weak is that Scully is smiling at him. She has a cup of coffee in her hand that she puts on the mantelpiece.

“Hi,” he says, his voice breathless.

“Hi.”

“I found mistletoe.”

“I see.”

“You know the tradition,” he says.

“I do. You should be glad Aunt Sylvia didn’t look up just now,” Scully says. “I think she might have a thing for you.”

“Hmm, too bad. I’m already interested in someone else.”

“Who?” Scully asks, but he steals the word from her lips. They meet in the middle with her on tiptoes and him slightly stooped. It starts out soft and gentle, a perfect first kiss. But when Scully’s fingers lock in his hair, all bets are off. He forgets that he shouldn’t be upright for longer periods of time. His knees buckle, but kissing Scully takes precedence over everything else.

“There are children present, for God’s sake.” It’s Bill’s booming voice that brings them back to the present, to Mrs. Scully’s house, and the various family members glaring at them.

“I’m, um, we- well.” Mulder tries to find words, but can’t. He wipes his mouth and Bill’s eyes narrow.

“The kids are not even paying attention,” Scully says. Everyone over the age of 12 is, however. Mulder has never seen so many women smile at him. He stands closer to Scully, knowing she’ll protect him.

“I said I’d try to be nice to him,” Bill says, looking him up and down. “But Dana, this is going too far.”

“It was one kiss, Bill.”

“Hey, don’t fight, please,” Mulder says, his headache returning with a vengeance. “I think I need to sit down anyway. I’m a bit dizzy.”

“I wasn’t thinking.” She throws Bill a dirty look and for a brief moment, the siblings battle a silent fight that Scully seems to be winning. She leads Mulder over to the couch where every Scully woman starts fawning over him. His very own Scully has her hand on his head, straightening the hair she mussed up. He grins, thinking about what happened mere moments ago. He wants it to happen again soon.

“He’s wearing lipstick,” Aunt Sylvia says, taking a sip from her coffee. “Looks good on him.” Somewhere Bill Jr. groans while everyone else laughs. Scully wipes the lipstick away with her thumb, pressing a kiss to his cheek. She’s not at all shy with him here, surrounded by her family. Even if she only does it to rile up her big brother, he doesn’t care. After all, he gets kisses. From Scully. He will never complain about that. Though he can’t wait to do this when they’re alone and Bill Jr. isn’t breathing down their necks. Quite literally.

“It really does look good on you,” she whispers, bringing him back to the present.

“Maybe I can wear it again later?” He asks, full of hope.

“Oh, you will be wearing it again later tonight, don’t worry,” she promises him.

#got long #i feel like i could have turned this into a novella #wish i were kidding #christmas fluff really is my jam #thank you all for being so sweet to me about it #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

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allthecastlesonclouds · 2 months

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not to go crazy about these tags but you just simply must say more on the thistlesprings as italian i’m obsessed with that

I OF COURSE WILL I WILL PUT IT UNDER A CUT THO BC IT GOT LONG

i do mean italian american because that is what i know. and also slightly catholic italian american but. yeah.

alright so it did first strike me with the extended family. i do believe that the vision that the sphinx showed gorgug in the forest had some amount of truth to it– everyone else's did, and wilma and digby are very much the idea of "we don't need anybody but each other! :D"– and so, therefore, what's the reason the extended family isn't in wilma's and digby's lives? misguided kindness on both ends.

the thistlesprings (extended) have prejudice and boy howdy the italian grandparents i know. they try and they cook and they have their laws but also they have their beliefs. my (italian, catholic) grandmother called unitarian christianity a cult and tried to stop my (jewish) aunt from marrying my (catholic) uncle in front of a rabbi (that meme of "i consent" "i consent" "i don't!"). it's giving "all they know is wrong and they must change but you cannot change them without being hurt." We cannot accept people of other beliefs so you cannot let anything else in to prove us wrong, all under the paper-thin veil of wanting to protect.

and wilma and digby are such contradictions. they're so, so self-sacrificing, and yet they'll fight the whole world. they have a tank (wonder what happened to that lawn mower, actually...), for gods sake. they care so much about their boy but they also left their families at the drop of a hat? there simply must be more but also the self-sacrificing and yet horribly defensive... they are trying so hard because they know what they want and they are willing to do anything to get it but they would prefer to not fight extensively. but they do, because they over-corrected from their upbringing, and gorgug doesn't have the solidest of ground at home to rely on.

there's also just the gnomish/orcish culture mashup of focusing so much on food. i love food so much guys. you reach out and share those dishes with others– if you're having an event, you best bet you're getting up crack of dawn and making a multi-course meal that anyone and everyone can enjoy. the frosty fair folk festival being right up w+d's alley– of course it was, it was bonding. especially the as-homemade-as-we-can-get-it. never met an italian american who prefered canned sauce or preshredded cheese over homemade. that shit is as fresh as it gets.

there's also the dramatic family gatherings where everything goes wrong. why did gorgug see basically his entire extended family. i know that. the grandchildren are in the basement playing twister or some shit and the parents/grandparents/in-laws are Hashing Shit Out. there is a veil of politeness until 5 year old is gone and then it's a Shouting Match. gorgug saw "Digby and Wilma [are] having a fight with a lot of other gnomes. [He knows] that [he has] aunts and uncles and grandparents and stuff like that." that was Moonar Yulnear or some shit and stuff Went Down. Everyone was there. the cousins were in a tire swing or something but the extended family was there.

point 5b actually both sides of the family know each other. why do italian americans know either nobody or Everybody In Your Life and Their Life and The World Actually.

they just. they have so much (misguided) care and they mean so much to me. and do you think that any side has tried to reach out or has it just been years and years of blame game, of they'll never accept him and this is just how it is and how could they destroy themselves and how could they destroy something good. it all feels very italian american to me. homegrown experience gone sour because you want to thrive.

#questionnn!#bird :D #not maintagging this #but they're!! projection time baybeeeeee #i don't write the w+d all that often though because parents are Difficult To Write #but yeah! they're so. sitting u down and talking about generational trauma #sitting them down and handing them a book on breaking racial stereotypes and fleeing from the premises bc i don't wanna get fuckin SLAPPED #i do think this level of self defense is very italian american. we (as a fandom) don't touch on w+d's defensiveness much bc they've got-#-their lawnmower but they ARE still defensive they ARE CERTAINLY NOT ALWAYS HAPPY #and i do think it was a detriment to gorgug to not see them feel anything besides happy or Regulate Emotion #in some way i do think porter was good for him (showing emotion can be healthy– emotion does not have to be gentle to be good) even tho-#-i detest the man #anyway. sorry. 1am stream of consciousness #i hope this is coherent <3 #and i'm talking i guess

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noise-misato-boy-destroyer · 1 year

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I hope this isn't inappropriate to ask but how did you tell your family you're trans? Did it go well, do you keep in touch? What if you don't think they would be accepting? Do you think it could be hidden if you see them like once a year? Asking for a friend

I called my parents separately and told them directly, both of whom gave me different versions of the 'you're our child and we will always love you' and both have been quite supportive, with my mom being the only one there were some complications with, in that she told the rest of her side of the family who I'm not anticipating a great reaction from as they are Irish Catholic and the last time I saw them in person my aunt had me FaceTime with her kids who are in college and she wouldn't angle the camera below my nose because I had my piercings in, soooooo yea it really depends on the family. We keep in touch about as regularly as we used to, tho i haven't seen them in like two years due to financial reasons (we live on opposite sides of california)

As for being able to hide it, that's really up to your acceptance of who you are, how hard of a train estrogen is running on your face, and how much of a baddie you end up being. As you can imagine, I wouldn't be able to hide it, my face is just different enough and once I get FFS there won't be a question about it. Honestly I tried boymoding to hide it at first and looking at those early pictures I can see how uncomfortable I looked, especially compared to now, and the cissies are really good at picking up on that, even if they don't know what they're picking up on. In the end it's up to you and your comfort levels with who you are but in my case I very quickly learned two things: that I need the maximum dose of estrogen possible and that I cannot be the person I was anymore nor do I want to. This path is hard, but so fucking worth it.

Tell your friend to lean into it :p

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mearcatsreturns · 11 months

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i am deeply regretting agreeing to take time off work to go to texas for my aunt’s and uncle’s 50th anniversary celebration/family reunion that i leave for in two days.

my extended family on my paternal side is. how do i say this. not great. maybe i’m being unfair--it certainly isn’t all of them. maybe i’m autistic and don’t understand unspoken rules, but to me the last few days have been unhinged behavior?

i decided to try to go, because it’s been 3 years since i’ve seen most of them (ie the length of my grad program). for background, when i go, i typically stay at my aunt’s and uncle’s and sleep on a couch in the boathouse or in one of the bunks in the bunk room. i usually help do dishes and things like that since i don’t pay anything. i am not wealthy (especially a couple months out from finishing grad school...i work two part-time jobs and still scrounge), and about half of my family is. going to this was a stretch for me, but i thought it would be good. one of my cousins sent me a text when planning started for the celebration, which said:

please note that nothing about that mentioned payment or fees, especially since she owns that house. none of our subsequent texts mentioned it. we’re family, i figured i would just help out around keeping things clean, and i bought two nice bottles of wine from my one job that i was going to give her as a guest gift.

then yesterday, i got a text from one of my other aunts, K (not the one whose anniversary it is...my dad’s parents were catholic. it’s a big family), to me and a couple of other numbers i didn’t know. basically, a “hey, you don’t have anywhere to stay, i found this airbnb nearby. it will costs $2000 for 4 days, and split between 4, that’s $500 each!” i. uh. i was about to throw up. i texted my cousin and was like “just wanted to touch base, i’m staying at your place, right?”

she replied and said “hey, sorry, we filled the place up! you can probably stay with K!” like??? i told her i’d heard from K, but i couldn’t afford the option she sent me (genuinely, I am taking off unpaid time from work to go here, after buying a plane ticket. I cannot do half my rent for 4 days in Texas in July. that is crazy.) at this point I panicked and called my dad, because truly, I was going to need to cancel if I had to pay something like that. i talked to my dad, and he basically said, “don’t worry about it, we’ll figure something out, but yeah, this is usually why we stay on host aunt and uncle’s trailer across the street...it’s free.” so I texted my aunt K, politely thanking her for finding that place but that I can’t afford it, but my dad was going to help me find somewhere, and said I was looking forward to seeing her (she is not the problem, this is none of her business, and she was doing her best). i was upset, but willing to be like “okay, right, i’m related to a bunch of rich people who want to charge family to stay with them over a holiday weekend,” so i was already less excited, but still ok. i played some video games about it, and i figured i’ll just accept that i’m going to be in some uncomfortable hole for the time i’m there.

then this morning, I had another text from my cousin.

I did the heart thing because I genuinely didn’t know how to respond, and I still don’t know where to start. (a) this is so unnecessary, since I’m not staying with her anymore. why did you feel like you had to send this? (b) uh. you should maybe consider mentioning expectations like that when you invite people to stay with you. I did, as I previously mentioned, get some nice wine (and I work at a wine room) as a gift--that, in my experience, has been a pretty decent host gift in the past. (c) putting a vacation on a credit card when you don’t have the money or a pay bump coming to know you’ll be able to pay it off? UNHINGED. poor financial advice, and i’m sure if I’d done that, I’d get “hmm, is that fiscally responsible :/” bullshit. It’s not. I refuse to buy things I can’t afford? like? she then tried to make it better being like “I also have weed :D” and ngl, my first instinctual response (that I kept inside) was “oh, how much were you going to charge me for that? is it by puff or mg?”

anyway. I don’t know if it’s undiagnosed autism to expect things like financial expectations to be discussed and communicated, or if they’re just being some kind of White Person Way. this isn’t the first time money-related things have happened, but the last time was a decade ago and with an entirely different person (who I have since had a strained relationship with). I have genuinely lost so much desire to interact with most of my family? if this is familial love, I’ll pass and find my own family, thanks. I can’t imagine inviting someone, then charging them for a couch or bed? this is insane, right?

#long post #don't even start with this being a political thing. this cousin is campaign-for-Beto liberal #politics don't define dickery #i feel like i'm being gaslit into accepting this as normal #I have so many friends who are so generous with their time and this seems so bizarre to me #but???#(the last time one of my family members did the 'i have unspoken money expectations' thing I ended up being homeless and couch-surfing #for over a month. which i got out of because a stranger (who became like family) was kind to me #but yeah. I am. anti-excited

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thoughtsandfiction · 1 year

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Ep 3 of Mayfair Witches, or The One in which Rowan tries to walk to a house but is stopped by the plot.

So my major issue with Mayfair Witches is that it doesn't seem to be aware of it's own episode count, so it feels like it can have filler episodes. It cannot, and all they've been successful at doing is making me think there's not a lot of story to tell here (book fans, how dense is this story? Does it require a lot of stretching to make if a viable long running tv show?)

Not a lot happens in this episode and that worries me because we're approaching the half way mark, and it feels like we're still doing set up! I think Rowan should've gone with Carlotta. Would it be the smart choice for her? Probably not, but:

1) It would illustrate her desperation for family and answers about both her mothers (which is the whole reason she came here) 2) She asks Cip to identify the house in the picture (and later tries to go to it) but she didn't need him to do this! In Ep 2 the tour guide already told her it's The Mayfair House. Carlotta identifies herself as a Mayfair! Go with her! She is a more sure bet of having the answers you seek than stalker guy!! 3) Going with Cip is used as an opportunuty to explain The Talamasca and his powers, and do we need this right now?? We kinda get the gist of them as a supernatural bureaucratic organisation already, and Cip's powers have been demonstrated enough that I don't think anyone is hankering for a play by play. This whole thing slows down the urgency of Deidre's murder. 4.) This show needs more Carlotta/Beth Grant. There's something kooky about her performance that's made it one of the more enjoyable parts of the series. And Carlotta is the character with the most well articulated motives. She is a God-fearing (very Catholic) woman who is/thinks she is protecting her family from evil, and is fanatical about her protection (as VERY religious people often are). I want to see what her dynamic with Rowan is. It's time for Rowan really get into the woo woo shit. Also just the vibe of the aunts is so creepy. I mean, twin beds?? Give me weird adolescent sibling dynamics, yes! 5) I think Rowan meeting the Mayfairs, and experiencing the kinds of manipulation and restriction that Deidre was subjected to would be good motivation for her to run to Cip, and engender more feelings of sympathy for Deidre, and make Carlotta a viable suspect for her murder. 6) And I'm sure the Mayfairs have more of an idea about why Deidre was murdered. What is this 13th Witch thing? Why did Carlotta try so hard to keep Rowan away? Would Carlotta tell her? Probably not, but she's more likely to get some idea there than with Cip. 7) Lasher meets Rowan on the road, drugs her, seduces her, and then lures her to (what I'm assuming) is the Mayfair House. Carlotta and Catholic Hilda (seriously, what is her name?) are trying to find a way to get her to them. ROWAN ALREADY WANTS TO GO THERE! She has expressed this want! She was on her way! Why is everyone acting like she doesn't? Why are we getting in our own way?! And why get her there just to bring her back?! It's Two steps forward, two steps back! We're not moving!

Don't get me wrong, I understand why she goes with Cip. The moment is scary, and he's the only person she kinda knows. But get her to the house at some point in the episode. I mean, I would've rather heard Carlotta's explanation of what Lasher is and the evil he represents to her, and see Rowan try reckon with that, than hearing Cip repeat the vague descriptors we've been hearing since ep 1. Cip can still live his inspector gadget fantasy, cause somebody's gotta get the whodunit rolling, but this is Rowan's story. Let her drive the action! Give her things to do!

I'm gonna keep watching because I am very curious about how they're gonna write the rest of this. Most reviews I've seen and read say episodes 1-5 are meh and unfortunately that's proving to be true, but I'm nothing if not an optimist, so I'm still waiting for this story to kick it into high gear, and there are reasons for my faith. The scenes between Delphine and Carlotta are, I think, the most chilling stuff this show has done so far. Delphine's palpable fear? Carlotta's completely unsubtle manipulations? The race and class power dynamics at work? Her crushed in head?! Horro! Thriller! Good shit! It puts Carlotta up as a front runner for primary antagonist. There is something here, there's potential here. Let's hope we're done laying the groundwork and are finally going to tap into it.

Minor Asides:

So how does Lasher work?? Cause the reason Carlotta betrays Delphine is to trap Lasher, but he's still free enough to set fire to buildings, and dance around a funeral procession with Rowan??

What exactly were the Talamasca's protections? Cause Lasher could still find Rowan, and Rowan could just leave the building, so what did they actually do??

Witch hunters..... yay? I don't know. One the one hand, potential for some action and aggresive witchy woo, but one the other hand seems like a set up for Rowan to girlboss feminisim at some Men, a tactic employed by many "Show For/About Women," which can sometimes feel rote.

#mayfair witches #mayfair witches amc #the mayfair witches #rowan mayfair #carlotta mayfair #ciprien grieve #lasher #Anne rice universe #the witching hour #.

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whatdoesshedotothem · 1 year

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Thursday 25 December 1834

2 50

π- came a little before eight and staid till nine in bed with me rather in the pathetics she cannot get over her love for me but I behaved with perfect propriety she said well if anything happened to A- and Mr C- would I take her back again I made no answer till she said would I not when I replied ‘I would not shut the door against you’ on which she thanked me and said I was very good fine soft morning - breakfast at 10 – at church at 11 – Mr Ford did all the duty – preached 35 minutes from Luke ii. or vii.? 27, 28, 29, 30 our saviour being taken to be [?] - then received the sacrament almost all the congregation staid which made this service take up 50 minutes till 2- luncheon – M- and I out at 3 – to the Redbull to see the children of her school, 50 boys and girls who had dined there and to whom she went to wish a merry xmas and a happy new year - Letter from A- (Shibden) my aunt better – 3 pages widely written – nice letter – properly affectionate – wants me back again – went to Lawton arms to order horses for at 9am tomorrow – walked forwards a little then up and down - Called to see old Molly Owen took a turn with C- in the grounds and walked to the other lodge – came in about 4 ¾ - sat talking in my dressing room – dressed – Messrs. Powis (reverend) and Hinchcliffe (captain 33rd regiment) dined with us at 6 ¼ - the latter a firebrand of a whig, or rather radical – warmish politics till 8 when M- and I came away – sat in my dressing room till 9 then tea and staid down till 11 talking Theology - the Captain an overmatch for the parson - our priests lay claim to the power of giving absolution (vid. service for the sick) and we come up to the doctrine of transubstantiation in our church catechism (vid. the outward and visible sign of baptism et seq.) - then the captain held forth on the origin of the Christians making the sign of the cross (as the Roman Catholics do) I said it was also an old pagan custom - we do not condemn it except when done by idolatrously and left it out of our ceremonies because now unnecessary - (I had in my mind Knight on the phallic worship) - the Captain had picked up his arguments from Lingards’ history of England - he had read and compared him with Hume and Hallam’s constitutional history of England - I would gladly have taken no part, but M- made sign to me to join - Mr. P- maintained that Voltaire took the sacrament before his death - I agreed with the Captain that this was clearly proved - M- and I sat talking in my dressing room till 1 having had Eugenie when we 1st came up and M- having sent Watson to bed not liking to keep them up after their Xmas festivities in the housekeeper’s room – we had gone in for a minute or two to wish them a merry Xmas and happy new year – the gentlemen had mentioned Mr Crewe this evening - H- said he was an odd sort of person,

SH:7/ML/E/17/0130

a free thinker – expected over to bring some new religion he had invented P- maintained he was orthodox, tho’ nobody knew why he went to live in Paris - I said I had never seen him but once but he was very gentlemanly and did not appear like a free-thinker π- said nothing and δ- said he was a scoundrel of which nobody apparently took any notice π- mentioned it when we came up to bed seemed low and nervous I tried to cheer her advised her going to London to her uncle and Louisa for a week to see little π- till she told me the history at length of δ- and Eliza Lawton then told her not to be away said I saw her mind wavered about leaving δ- but that she must not do it unless he compelled her for refusing to have the girl live with them or unless something between him and the girl came out she had taxed with it with what the girl said and he declared it was a lie the girl did not like to be alone with him he put his tongue into her mouth which said π- is you know the last thing but one to which I agreed we talked of how the girl’s mind might be debauched till π- began kissing me and we got into such tongueing warm work that she got excited I kept my hands over her clothes and my arms decently round her till the right wandered to queer outside till she took up her petticoats and put it to her and I gave her a thorough grubbling I think she will have her cousin for it I certainly felt oddish but no wish to be near her myself tho’ she said in the midst can you not come near to me for a minute or two I made no reply but went on never opening my eyes she asked if I loved her I merely said yes when I did look at her it was in silence neither as if ashamed nor as if attendrie nor caring much I was grave and silent she said she was better and hoped I should have a good night what is the meaning of all this? can this be the conduct of a pure minded virtuous woman! I despise it she has tried all ways to upset me I have done what I have done but she shall never gain more nor ever I hope a repetition even of this I could have done without it but somehow I thought gratify her passion by one parting grubble it ought not to have been but I will try to turn it to some good account by telling her I shall shew her letters and by keeping out of the way – my respect is gone she read me Mr C- ’s last letter long and written at different times according to her request nothing absolutely improper might be read aloud but the understanding between them is evident how will it end? He is a gambler I told her today I did not think that right and I was sorry for it she sends A- a little pocketbook yet she will try to lead me astray from her! but she shall do no worse and I hope and trust the scene of tonight cannot recur is this the chaste and quiet π-? I will keep out of her way and Mr C- ’s too as well as I can very fine soft day - from 11 to 2 25 wrote all the above of today lay down in my clothes

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booksandwords · 9 months

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The Rainbow Comes and Goes: A Mother and Son On Life, Love, and Loss by Anderson Cooper and Gloria Vanderbilt

Read time: 3 Days Rating: n/a

This is a book I abandoned. I stopped reading on page 110 (start of section III)

Warnings: mentions of death and suicide

This is a long series of emails between the then 91-year-old Gloria Vanderbilt and her youngest son Anderson Cooper. I really wanted to finish this but it's not going to happen because I time constraints. I really hope to come back to this one day. It is beautifully written you see glimpses of the world that Gloria came from, that old old money, and how that shaped her. You can see how Gloria became of the strongest women, she had so many strong women in her life, and in her family tree. But you see all the pain too. Especially when she talks about Carter's death, about watching him jump (and I didn't even get to the strongest of that I don't think).

I want to add some notes here, comments and quotes that I liked.

"Even as an adult, I found there was still much I didn't know her—experiences she'd had, lessons she'd learned that she hadn't passed on. In many cases, because I hadn't asked. There was also much she didn't know about me. When we're young we all waste so much time being reserved or embarrassed with our parents, resenting them or wishing they and we were entirely different people. — There are undeniable truths here, there are circumstances in which your mental health demands just burning those bridges and moving on. But for most of us, the stories of our relatives are important parts of ours that cannot be denied. I was watching my mother and aunt get brand new information about their mother's upbringing, just because I was in the room and asking questions. (Anderson, p.6)

"As a child, you generally aren't aware that your family is different from any other. You have no frame of reference. It is only later that you learn your upbringing was not the same as everybody else's." —This is just one of those quotes I adore for those of us raised in not fantastic childhood homes it helps make sense of the situation we lived through. And remind us that we couldn't know. (Gloria, p21)

"Naney offered me this sense of security as well, but in a much different way; incapable of holding back the extravagance of her affection, she demonstrated it by showering me with love, and chattering away. Her voice sounded like the tweeting of birds mingled with castanets." —This is Gloria about her maternal grandmother Laura Delphine Kilpatrick Morgan. Naney was a terrifying woman, intelligent and a strategist, that she idolised Napoleon just works. Laura and a nanny 'Dodo' were the main people who raised her up until the chaotic court case that made her famous at 10. (Gloria, p.31)

Reading Anderson Cooper talk about his childhood is an insight as to why he is how he is.

"That I have the name Vanderbilt has always felt like a huge mistake. I felt I was an imposter, a changeling, perhaps switched at both, intruding under false pretences. For me, this feeling has never gone away." —I really like this sentiment. She is not the only one I've ever heard express it, but this is one of the best analogies. (Gloria, p.38)

Gloria and Anderson discussing sexuality is something I didn't know I needed. Homosexuality has been a complicated thing in Gloria's life.

"Mary Magdalene was the star as far as I was concerned—naughty and beautiful? What better combination?" —I mean this is kinda funny. Gloria is a bit of a feminist whether she uses that term or not. (Gloria, p.105)

I found Gloria Vanderbilt talking about religion interesting. She was raised Catholic (but agnostic later in life). Her Saint names are Regina and Francesa. Regina was to honour her father but Regina is the patron saint of torture victims, poor people, and shepherdesses. Francesca (aka St Frances of Rome) is the patron saint of the Oblates (a person dedicated to God or God's service) and vehicle drivers. I'm fascinated by Saint name choices despite being agnostic, but how many kids would look at the patronages of the name they choose? Though what was great was reading Anderson vehemently (as much as possible) with her on this one topic.

On the font and formatting. There are three fonts used, one for Gloria, one for Anderson and one for the requisite background information. It makes figuring out who is speaking when very easy, though the tones used are also great indicators of that. Gloria Vanderbilt has an old and thoughtful voice of story and wisdom. Anderson Cooper has a questioning, reporter's voice, there is such warmth and love for his mother there. He is not doing this for his profession he is doing this for family, the reporter's voice kinda shows in that he comes from knowing what to ask, what string to pull when (like if I had to guess Carter) The background information (written by Cooper) is as neutral as possible and doesn't make assumptions as to a readers age or knowledge of the Vanderbilt name/legacy. In an aside, be still my heart... deckled edging. It is such a nice touch and it is one of my favourite style choices in publishing.

Something about it suits this particular book. Despite not finishing this, I really recommend it. It is a wonderful way for a family to share their story. More specifically for a mother to share her own story with her youngest son. If it leads to one family sitting down and having a proper conversation, putting aside minor issues, and learning histories and truths, it has done its job.

#the rainbow comes and goes #the rainbow comes and goes: a mother and son on life love and loss #anderson cooper #gloria vanderbilt #tw death mention #tw suicide #book review #ktreviews #read 2022 #abandoned #biography #? kinda #family #booklr

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thenightlymirror · 2 years

Note

You like nuns?

Nun of your business.

I've met a few cute nuns. I guess its sort of like... if you're an androgynous or agender or desexualized person, nuns are like these strange reflections of that as well? It's like they took the plunge to that other side of complete sex-rejection.

I have not taken that plunge. haha. I have a similar relationship with religion, I guess. I grew up reading the bible. My aunt who I lived with sometimes was a Sunday school teacher. Some people have no idea what it would be like to hear God's voice, or feel God's presence, and I guess I'm one of those that has always felt it. Always sees signs. I do not believe in God, but because that is basically a biological predisposition probably akin to epilepsy or just schizophrenia, it is absolutely still there. Every day.

So, I suppose I am sometimes fascinated by people who also experience those things or have submitted to that life. I empathize with them on a very deep level. That could easily be me.

You cannot help but wish to liberate people from that state, either. haha To want to show them all that is truly beautiful about God's creation that they reject for his (alleged) sake. Life could be so rich. Especially when you have a heart that could so deeply appreciate it. That's not just sex. It's the whole thing. Earnest Catholics know how to savor suffering as well, which is obviously both hot, and a mood, as it were. haha

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serenasoutherlyns · 3 years

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Connections

a/n: part one (lmao maybe) of me writing Serena being gay into episodes of L&O. you cannot tell me that Serena Southerlyn and Kay Hartley did not have an epic, tortured (for Serena, anyway) love affair in law school; and you cannot convince me that Serena isn't nice enough to fall for her tricks again. without further ado... any notes or feedback is appreciated! i love you all more than i love chocolate covered espresso beans.

Serena’s mind is buzzing. Her fingertips are on fire. She presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth, hoping that the rage isn’t showing on her face beyond a clenched jaw. She can’t believe she let this happen again.

Kay Hartley’s reputation looms higher than almost anybody else’s. She’s that 1L with a look that pierces, the one who’ll do anything to get what she wants, the one who’s LSAT score may as well have been perfect. She hangs in the back of classes, but the only thing that does is raise her air of mystery, she still answers correctly when called on. Kay never shows up to parties, because she’s always already there. You could call it sulking, but she prefers to think of it as observing. Tonight, she’s watching Serena.

Serena is beautiful, but no grand assumptions follow in front of her wherever she goes. She’s a couple years older than Kay, but only one ahead. She’s probably Catholic. Just a smidge below rich— she’s skirt suits, not sweater sets. Serena seems like the kind of girl who would be proud if someone said she couldn’t hang. Kay’s seen her going off on feminist rants at guys on the quad but they’ve all seemed friendly. She doesn’t seem militant. Kay can’t decide if she pings or she doesn’t.

That question is answered. Serena’s been playing beer pong (seriously? They aren’t undergrads) with a group of guys. When she misses two in a row, instead of getting all giggly, flipping her hair around, and hanging off some guy’s arm until he lets her win; she focuses in on the ball (strike one), ties her hair up in a ponytail (strike two), and high fives the guy beside her when she scores (strike three). She pings. Kay wants her.

Kay always gets what she wants. Serena’s kicking herself for forgetting that.

“She played me, Jack,” she says, trying to maintain a work-appropriate amount of poison in her words. “I all but handed her that stupid defense.” Jack tries to say something, but Serena, once in rant mode, is not about to leave it. “She comes to me, looking all forlorn and doe-eyed, telling me all about how much she loves her poor aunt, and I believed her, like an idiot--”

“You’re not an idiot, Serena--”

“She used me, Jack! As though she could have suddenly developed real emotions--”

“Don’t beat yourself up too much, I mean, Arthur and I signed off on it too--”

“Because I convinced you to! And now, a murderer might walk because I let Kay Hartley and her ways” she says the word “ways” like they’re something criminal themselves, “convince me to work for her side.”

Serena’s more distressed than she ought to be. Kay’s new defense is flimsy at best, Jack isn’t all that worried. “Imminent” is a rather clearly defined word, at least in case law. Oh. Serena is-- crying? Nothing legal is likely to help here anymore. “How well do you two really know each other? If you don’t mind my asking? Because it seems like there’s something else here, I mean, did she do something to you in school? Spill coffee on your notes, steal your boyfriend?”

The glare she shoots his way reminds him that a) for some reason, the old McCoy charm has always been lost on Southerlyn and b) sometimes he should think about shutting up.

“No, Jack, she didn’t steal my boyfriend.” Serena has given up on keeping the poison out.

What a fucking joke, Serena thinks. Six months. Of, frankly, mind-blowing sex; soft mornings in each others’ beds, late nights studying with Kay in her lap, anxious looks across crowded rooms. Certainly she’d heard the whispers. Serena didn’t believe them. When they were confirmed to be true the first time, Serena thought she could fix her. Evidently, that would not be possible.

They’re at another house party. Serena honestly doesn’t like them very much anymore, but, and she hates this the most, social connections would likely turn out to be a blessing for her upon graduation. Hers aren’t built in like Kay’s are. Serena has a job. She makes so many expensive lattes a week that the texture of milk foam makes her gag now. She does it with a smile, and then she goes to class all day, and then she does her studying, and then she gets up at 5 AM to make more lattes. All things considered, it’s not a bad gig. At least she’s not footing the bill for school itself. Still, watching Kay catch up with kids she went to prep school, summer camp, with at every party and lecture had been hard to learn to handle.

Serena’s getting a cup of water in the kitchen when she hears a song she actually likes finally come on over the speakers. She sips quickly. Surely, she can get Kay to dance one dance with her before the night is over, despite her usual routine of hanging back.

Clearly, that won’t be happening. Because, when she gets out into the main room again, Kay is practically in Bobby Myles’ lap, laughing along to something he’s saying. Bobby Myles is a sexist pig, Kay has said about as much to her before. Serena guesses that doesn’t matter in the end.

It’s not like she has to shout it from the rooftops. Serena’s not stupid, she knows that neither of them are going to be coming out any time soon. It would be a lot easier to handle if Kay could at least pretend to respect her.

It’s the most relief she’s felt at a conviction in a long time. She gets the jury’s sympathy, she really does. But the look of, not despair, but panic on Kay’s face-- priceless. Relief might be the wrong word. Serena feels smug. It feels good to finally win one. Kay even called her to try and grovel for a sentencing recommendation. She’ll do what she can, for Mrs. Payton’s sake, though thought of Kay not getting something she asked for is tempting.

“We all deal with things in our own way, I guess,” Jack says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Serena asks him. Wherever this is going, she wants to see its conclusion.

“Just that,” Jack is off to a running start, it would appear, “there’s got to be something deeper here, right?” Serena raises her eyebrows at him, curious as to what on earth his guess is. “I mean, it’s one thing to squeeze you once, Serena, but a second time? She must know you’re not going to fall for it again.”

“You’d be surprised, Jack,” Serena says, wondering how much hinting she can get away with, “Kay can be quite,” she pauses looking for the words, “convincing.”

“How so?” Jack seems to truly not have a clue here. Serena decides to throw him a line.

“How did Kay look at you?” she asked. Jack is not going to bite, so Serena does her best desperate, seductive, emotional look. “Like that, right?” Jack laughs.

“Guess so, just about. Lots of women look at me like that,” Jack says, cutting himself before he finishes that sentence with not you, though.

“Good for you. How did Kay look at me?”

Serena has, at this point, led him to the conclusion. It dawns on him. He says all he can think to. “So she definitely didn’t steal your boyfriend, then.”

“No, no she did not.” Serena says, glad that he didn’t freak out on her. It’s impossible to avoid the rumors about Jack, and at first she’d been worried that he wouldn’t want a deputy who wasn’t interested in extra-curriculars. She wasn’t going to bring this up, but Kay had waltzed onto her turf with her ways; and Jack was not a man who could leave curiosities alone.

“Maybe keep this away from Arthur?” she asked “I’m still sussing him out.”

“Of course,” Jack says. “And I’m glad it wasn’t me all this time.”

Serena rolls her eyes at him as they step onto the elevator.

---

tags: @nocreditinthestraightworld @imaginaryoperagloves

#law and order #serena southerlyn #your honor she should've been gayer #the rarest of pairs #canned rare pairs in syrup #oh my god i'm loopy #law and order fanfiction #lesbians of law and order #law and order fanfic #kay hartley

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pedropascalunofficial · 4 years

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My Cousin, Pedro Pascal

Ximena Riquelme

16 NOV 2017 12:53 PM

Before being the protagonist of Narcos or filming with Colin Firth, José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal (42) was a child whom I knew very well because we are from the same family. A man who today looks with nostalgia and some perplexity at his place of origin and his history and who still does not answer what would have happened if he had stayed here.

The first memory I have of Pedro is in the arms of my mother during his baptism, in the garden of my house. She was a weeping bus and had huge black eyes. I was 9 years old. It was cloudy. Years later I learned that the priest was Gerardo Whelan, the legendary rector of Saint George's College. Pedro's parents were not at his baptism: my uncle, José Balmaceda, my mother's only male brother, and his wife Verónica Pascal were asylees at the Venezuelan embassy, which was on Bustos street, near my house. Pepe, as we used to say to my uncle, who years later would become a famous gynecologist, an expert in fertilization, was then a 27-year-old young doctor, in those days wanted by Dina. Some time before they had hidden Andrés Pascal Allende, Mirista and his wife's uncle. One day they came to take him to the José Joaquín Aguirre Hospital and he managed to escape by jumping through the roofs. It was October 1975.

Like most of the Chilean families, there were supporters of both sides in mine: for and against Pinochet. Trying to help Pedro's parents, my dad called a relative who held a high position in the Army. "Tell the children to get asylum, because I cannot guarantee their lives or that nothing happens to Veronica," was his reply. She was 22 years old. Then began the journey of my uncles and with them that of my cousin José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal. Pepe and Verónica had to start living secretly in different houses. Pedro, who was only 6 months old at the time, and his 3-year-old sister Javiera were left in charge of my mother's older sister, "Aunt Juani."

The second memory I have of Pedro is when I accompanied my parents, who carried him and his sister in their arms, to stand on the sidewalk in front of the Venezuelan embassy so that their parents could see them through the window.

My uncles left the Venezuelan embassy for the airport in January 1976, Pedro was 9 months old and obviously does not remember anything. I just remember that they didn't let me go. Pedro could not record the image, which I could not see, of his grandfather Luis Pascal Vigil - a very prominent lawyer - singing the National Anthem on the balcony of Pudahuel. A memory that is not mine but that I adopted, for cute.

As the people of the International Red Cross advised our family on time, Pedro and his sister did not leave the embassy with their parents, but arrived directly at the airport: this allowed their passports not to be stamped with the "L" for " limited to circulate "that stamped on the exiles who left. Therefore, the years that Pedro and Javiera came could come to Chile without problems. And for that reason, the choclón of cousins, we were able to share long summers in Pucón and some winters in Santiago.

The Balmaceda Pascal first arrived in Aarhus, Denmark, in October 1976. A year later they left for San Antonio, Texas, where Pedro's father was able to continue improving himself thanks to a grant from the Rockefeller Foundation. Veronica earned a PhD in Child Psychology.

________________________________________

"But Denmark is invisible to me," Pedro writes me by email. A while ago I proposed to interview him at a distance to travel a little about his history, and here we are, in front of the computer, sharing memories. "It is invisible to me, like everything that happened before. Although once, after telling him about my childhood, a doctor told me that the temporary separation with my mother was trapped in the memory of my body and that I could remember it through the senses".

My cousin, far away

The third memory I have of Pedro is a summer in Pucón. It must have been in 1978. "Pepelo", as we said, was no longer a guagua but a restless, very blond boy, who was so impacted by poverty in Chile that when he went out on the street with his gringo accent, he asked any person: "Are you poor?" He took food out of the pantry and gave it away. With my cousins we rented a warm wooden house, colorful, with the door frames out of square. It was summers with trips to those black sand beaches that burned the feet and picnics in Caburgua with lamb on the stick. They took us to mass and Pedro sang very inspired.

"This is where the memories become more vivid, like dreams," he writes. "I remember so many details: my older cousins, children my age who were like family. The beach seemed endless. I also remember running down the hallways and stairs of Aunt Juani's house looking for Santa Claus at Christmas."

XR: What was it like leaving your parents in the United States?

PP: "I think the trauma was going back to the States, although I obviously wanted to be with my parents. But childhood in Chile, with the Balmaceda and Pascal, was a dream, a world where nothing was missing, pure adventure and love."

Now that he tells me that, I remember that image of Pedro hanging on the neck of our aunt Juani, crying in Pudahuel because she did not want to return. At that time going to the airport was a panorama: we were going en masse to leave him and his sister, who traveled in charge of the stewardesses.

In 1981 I went with my parents and my two sisters to see the Balmaceda Pascal in Texas. I remember an eternal road trip from Miami, I remember Pedro's house, in a middle-class neighborhood, comfortable, beautiful, lovingly arranged by his mother. I remember the tears of my mother and Pedro's mother when we said goodbye to return to Chile. We still didn't know when they could return. Although Pedro never fully returned.

In December 1983, Pepe and Verónica were able to enter Chile. The whole family was packed on the terrace of Pudahuel, waiting for them. I remember the Balmaceda Pascal walking from the stairs of the plane to the International Police. I remember them happy, triumphant. Pedro was 8 years old and chose to stay in my house, in love with my girl sister.

We all went to Quintero, to the house of our grandfather Pepe, a great smoker, tennis player, and fanatic fanatic who took us to the town cinema to see double Tora! Programs, Tora !, Tora! More Bridges on the River Kwai and other old movies. Surely Pedro had to see several. Since he was a boy he said he wanted to be a "director". He liked horror movies and was a big movie consumer, like his dad.

PP: "I remember going to the movies with the cousins and the grandfather to see anything with Clint Eastwood, Sylvester Stallone. They leased me VHS movies to see alone and happy."

XR: You once recited Hamlet on the beach with Grandpa.

PP: "No, it was Death of a Salesman, by Arthur Miller. I was about 14 years old. I videotaped it and lost the fucking camera on the trip back to the United States."

After that summer, Pedro began to come more sporadically. He was already grown up, at school and then at university. They had moved to Newport Beach, California. His father was doing very well. But Pedro, not so much.

PP: "I think that the way the family supported me in Chile was the opposite of what I experienced in Newport Beach. I started well in California but at 13 years old, very involved in the cinema, reading plays, books, TV, TV, TV, obsessed with these things, I had the bad luck to find few like me. It was a world very attached to conservatism and its privileges where not fitting was punished. There was a group of shitty goats who were my friends the first year and became my terrors thereafter. I don't enjoy remembering that time, but there are deep connections from back then. Friends of my parents who are like parents until today."

Pedro's mom soon found a performance arts program at a high school in another district. A more inclusive school compared to Corona del Mar, the neighborhood where they lived in Newport.

PP: "My mom and my driver's license were my salvation. There I was able to unleash my appetite for movies and theater without limits."

As time went by Pedro became a fun, provocative teenager with character. He said he was "lazy", but he went to study Theater at NYU in 1993 and he loved it. I started to see it less. When he came to Chile he went out with his friends, I was already married and having children.

XR: Did you find that our way of life was very boring?

PP: "Bored, no. But overwhelming regarding life's permanent decisions. I didn't have the Catholic structure, and I felt there was no room for a young guy like me. Like suddenly, from one trip of mine to another, you had lives that included marriages and children, and pleasing the visits of the gringo cousin was no longer an option for all of you. I had to duel, because I was jealous of his inattention."

XR: Do you find us very conservative?

PP: "Yes, but it is a major contradiction for me. I come from the perspective that no one can decide how someone else should live their life. And well, in our family there are social rules that are very firm. I think that a person has the right to live his life conservatively or wildly as long as he does not negatively impact anyone or tries to embarrass others by his lifestyle. I don't touch these issues very much with our family for fear of hearing their perspective, but what I do know is that if I ever needed help I could ask any member of our family by the name of Balmaceda, and I would get it."

In 1995, Pedro's parents returned to Chile with their two youngest children, Nicolás and Lucas, who had been born in California. Javiera also came for a couple of years. Pedro stayed in the United States.

PP: "It was a very scary period. I grew up with my family in the United States and from one day to the next there was no home to return to. Suddenly the idea of the safe nest was gone. It was shocking because in previous years I took for granted the privileged life we had in California. I never thought that this could change as suddenly as happened to my parents when they became exiles. Everything felt fragile. Also, I knew that my parents' marriage was wrong and that the tension of those circumstances was hardly going to end. My mother's life felt in danger and the line between needing her, being there for her and finishing my studies and pursuing a career was a horrible conflict. I knew that my mom wanted me to continue doing mine, she never would have wanted me to sacrifice it."

XR: Did you really resent the failure of your parents' marriage?

PP: "For me it was the hardest time. I have not been able, and I do not know if someday I will be able to reconcile completely how my parents separated and the tragedy that came after that separation. The circumstances of my mother's death made it very hard for us to keep her memory of who she was. It hurts so much ... Sometimes I feel distressed and try to face it in the best possible way, because I know that my mother would not like me to do it in any other way."

Pedro lost his mother when he was 24 years old.

PP: "It's hard to say what I remember most about her. You met her, so it is easy for you to understand that she was the love of my life. I think of her every day. Since I don't pray, I can't say that I have a practice to feel her close, but I live for her even though she's gone, and that makes sense to me."

From Alexander to Pedro

XR: Do you believe that pain makes us stronger or does it seem like a horrible cliché?

PP: "I don't think it's a terrible cliche but a profound reality. In some way, losing the most important person in your life, discovering that something like this is possible and that what you fear most in life can happen is an identifiable and permanent moment. There is a before and after after his death. I think, yes, that old age would not have been for my mother, there would have been no footwear with her. Of course, no one wants to grow old, but others can handle it better. I would not have liked to see my mom struggling with it, but at the same time, I wish I had her every day still with me."

It may have been the summer of 2012. Pedro said to our aunt Juani: "I am 37 years old and I still can't get what I want. And it's the only thing I know how to do." It had been a long time since the death of his mother in the summer of 2000 that Pedro had changed his name. From Pedro Balmaceda to Pedro Pascal. He had been searching for years, years of casting where, by being called Pedro Balmaceda in the studios, they hoped to find a Latin or classic Mexican phenotype. He had only made minor appearances in some series.

XR: Although you did not regret it, you did wear Alexander at some point. Why?

PP: "That was a desperate period and directly related to having lost my mother. I was desperate to work, to fill my days with something more to suffer. To eliminate the confusion that casting directors had with this guy named Pedro with European or Caucasian traits, I changed my first name to Alexander and took my mom's last name, Pascal. That only lasted a year, until I was able to find a job and be selected for an Ibsen theatrical classic. But it was too late for people to identify me as "Alex". Also, my mom named me Pedro. So the decision was to call me Pedro Pascal, a name that fits with me more than any other."

Soon after that came Brothers and Sisters, other small roles, and later more important ones in The Good Wife, The Law and Order, The Mentalist, until Game of Thrones, Narcos in 2015 and now, filming Muralla china with Matt Damon and William Dafoe - last year we all went to see his cousins together - and then Kingsman 2 with Colin Firth, Julianne Moore, Jeff Bridges, Halle Berry and Channing Tatum.

XR : Have you ever been excited acting with such powerful actors?

PP: "I have been thrilled with everyone."

With fame have come the new meetings of the cousins with Pedro Pascal. We all want to see him, take pictures of us, we ask him for greetings-chub for friends, we inflate ourselves by saying that he is our cousin. That Peña, the protagonist of Narcos and the sexiest guy in the world, is my cousin-brother. He laughs and humorously calls us "scoundrels" because now we remember him. In fact, that's what our cousin chat on Whastapp is called.

But there is also the modesty to disturb him. Know that you are busy. That while I'm sending you these questions, you're filming in Boston with Denzel Washington. And to feel that there is always a lack of time to speak to him calmly, a space to ask him questions like the ones that occur to me now:

XR: Exile changed your life. Can you imagine growing up in Chile?

PP: "I don't know, because I haven't thought much about it. I have been asked this question all my life and have never been able to come up with an answer. Perhaps my life would have been more complete and solid. What I am used to is that the past disappears as if it had been lived by someone else, in another time."

XR: Do you miss something from when you were Pedro Balmaceda?

PP: "You know? There is very little difference between Pedro Balmaceda and Pedro Pascal. As it is all part of José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal, I feel the same person. But with back problems and more money."

XR: Would you like to start a family?

PP: "Being a dad? I don't know. I have no fucking idea. I love being an uncle. It may just end there. But anything is possible."

XR: Marialy Rivas said something very nice about you on Saturday: that when you play a character, you pretend that this character brought a whole previous story, much bigger than what they are telling. And it's true: you carry a bigger story than you tell it.

PP: "I don't know, cousin. I am very confused trying to organize the past and see what turns out. It helps me understand the pain or be grateful for what I have. Sometimes I feel like I'm a fraud, living between waiting for fame and attention and completely embarrassed by these wishes.

In reference to what Marialy said, I think she means that I put all my confusion, joy and sorrow, ambivalence, hostility, rage, love, lust, greed, compassion, ignorance, knowledge either to indicate a map with the finger on Narcos, throwing an arrow in Game of Thrones, lashing out at Kingsman. Cool! But I think my experience in theater taught me that."

XR: Would you someday like your life to be a script?

PP: "No way." (in english)

XR: Do you still want to be a "director", as you used to say when you were a kid?

PP: "Yes! That will be my way of being a father. Father of a production."

XR: Is dreaming about an Oscar the dream of every actor, even if you don't confess it?

PP: "I confess that possibly… yes."

#pedro pascal #cousin #la tercera #2017 #family #mother #father #asylum #embassy #pedro pascal article #article #javiera balmeceda #peter balmaceda #cousins #pp article

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period-dramallama · 4 years

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Spanish Princess Episode 5: many many thoughts

Strap yo selves in

-WHERE WAS THE APOLOGY?? Lina’s just back with Catherine like nothing happened??

-Katherine, I get why you’re upset, but you kind of should be unsurprised?? Your dad was unfaithful to his wife, most kings were. Henry VII and Richard III were the exceptions, and even they had illegitimate sons before their marriages. Many kings also had official mistresses that everyone knew about, so by the standards of the time Henry and Bessie are actually being pretty tactful in at least trying to keep their affair out of sight. (Sexy dancing aside).

-Honestly it would have been so much more moving if KoA was like “I know kings take mistresses...but I thought...I was so sure... he would be different...”

-”they gave me a purse of gold!” It’s expected that you give the monarch lavish presents, lmao Ursula and Stafford would do that even if they hated each other and you

-”everybody loves a masque” the only sensible thing Henry has said so far in this show. Also court probably had way more masques than we see in the show, and it would standard to have a masque every holiday.

-”she is not a boy” hurry up with your character development and learn to love Mary already i am so TIRED of this miserable BS

-seems a rather depopulated masque? If the Chateau Vert pageant is anything to go by putting on a masque was a court activity, with most of the ladies performing.

-Bessie Blount in her cute masque costume... sweet mother i cannot weave Aphrodite has overcome me with GAAAAAAAAAAAAY

-”I never enjoyed carousing...my mother scolded me” look i love the Neville sisters with my whole heart but a) Margaret was 3 at most when her mother died, how does she remember her? She’d have clearer memories of her double-uncle and double-aunt, Richard III and Queen Anne b) Isabel Neville in the White Queen was established as very prim and proper, a well-bred girl who cared about enforcing decorum, she refused to ‘carouse’ and she certainly would never bring a 3 year old to a party c) we saw little Margaret as a girl at the end of the White Queen and she didn’t seem at all shy.

-”she died young, didn’t she” ...yes? most people did?

-”they both did” understatement of the year. Isabel Neville died young because she was ill, George died young (in the universe of The White Queen, at least) BECAUSE HE WAS FORCEFULLY DROWNED IN A VAT OF MALMSEY WINE. THESE TWO THINGS ARE NOT THE SAME! I do at least trust the writers of this show that the understatement was intentional, I’m sure even Emma Frost couldn’t forget a major character getting violently drowned.

-So the court only noticed the plague when one of their own got it so obviously and then died? Yes, plague could move fast, but if there was a whiff of plague the court would flee with the speed of the Looney Tunes road runner. If an acquaintance of an acquaintance of a cook had a cousin who saw someone with the plague, the court would flee to the country. How have these people not died of terminal stupid?! Like Compton was in the same building as the heir to the throne

-To be fair, it makes sense that they’re surprised Compton’s dead. Because the real Compton died of the sweating sickness. In 1528. Also he was involved in Buckingham’s downfall so... you just wrote yourself into a corner.

-Oh wow an actual good reason for More and Pole to be quarantined together i am amaaaaaazed

-”attend the queen” Boleyn, what do you think your daughter’s been doing all season if not attending the queen? Playing tetris?

-Katherine helping Anne into the wagon...I actually like that little moment. Like it does make sense, because the two have no reason to hate each other yet. (And who couldn’t like Anne? She’s such a babby!)

-Thomas More in the Tudor equivalent of casual clothes... much better. Shame about the 1930s lady’s wig.

-”what else should we do?” Maggie, this cannot be the first epidemic you’ve ever lived through. Have you forgotten the sweating sickness of 1485? You’ve probably lived through more epidemics than Oviedo has, you should know the protocol better than him.

-Oviedo continues to be the only man with rights. I wish we could see him crying and missing his wife and babies, but then my lil heart would break so maybe it’s for the best.

-They burn Maggie’s weird blue hood AS THEY SHOULD! IT WAS UGLY AND STUPID! I NEVER HAVE TO LOOK AT IT AGAIN NOW! THANK YOU SO MUCH! yes they also burned her nice dress with the strawberries on it but honestly it’s worth it, bc now i can rest easy, knowing the evil hood has been defeated.

-”you were a plaything” Katherine is so obviously insecure. I’m getting second-hand embarrassment. Like if she really was certain Bessie wasn’t important, she wouldn’t need to say it, would she? Except to rub it in. Which this KOA would absolutely do.

-literally all Bessie said was good morning?? Like Bessie is doing her best?? The masque was Henry’s idea, not hers, she hasn’t shown off about her affair, she hasn’t demanded money or titles, she hasn’t demanded any status to rival Katherine’s, she doesn’t flirt with or even speak to Henry when Katherine’s around, she acts like they’re strangers, she doesn’t even react when Katherine loses her temper...someone please please stick up for Bessie!

-”the rocking of the cart is unsettling to the stomach” is Anne naive, or is she covering for Bessie? I hope it’s the latter, in which case Anne is the one person looking out for Bessie...the babby is Soft, I repeat the babby is Soft!

-the irony of Mary being cold to Bessie when she’s next in the firing line...

-”it is not the rocking” Thank you Lina, where would we be without your gift for stating the obvious?

-”where did Wolsey get his money”...He’s a churchman...at the top of the church hierarchy...how do you fuckin think he got wealthy. Have y’all not been in the sixteenth century for five minutes? Why do you think Luther is so mad at the church?

-”I know of no other man in her bed most nights” Honestly wow I’m surprised KoA wasn’t like “well :/ a girl like that :/ who knows how many men process in and out of her bed :/” KoA gets half a point for being less bitchy than usual. Also Bessie looked so uncomfortable with Henry groping her stomach in front of Katherine. I pray the next man in her life treats her right and that Fraham don’t prematurely kill her off like they did with Compton.

-”the future king” if you’re regent on his behalf, then he’s already king! “Civilised companionship” back at it again with the Scots-are-barbarians.

-Laura Carmichael is utterly stunning this episode, with her hair down. The cinematography was beautiful in general this week.

-”freedom to speak and licence to speak are two different things” hey look at that one of Thomas More’s actual beliefs. I am giving all the credit to the historical advisor for that, I don’t believe for one second Fraham knew that beforehand.

-Maggie I love you but no, God does not sanction adultery. For any reason.

-KOA smirking and gloating about Bessie’s pain...she has never been so punchable. I would understand, if not condone it, if Bessie was manipulative, or greedy, or ambitious, or trying to supplant Katherine. But Bessie’s been betrayed by Henry too, and there’s no concrete evidence she ever gloated about her affair, to anyone let alone Katherine.

-”You think only of your own fate while London is struck down with plague” Earth to Katherine?? What concern have you shown for the Londoners?? Also calling Bessie selfish...Bessie’s not the one who lashed out at Lina, was jealous at Lina for having twin boys, and who wanted to continue a war for personal reasons. And then Bessie proves KoA wrong 5 hot seconds later by sticking up for Mary. Bit rich of KoA to be all “how dare you leave my daughter unattended” when she herself won’t even hold Mary.

-”Louis didn’t last a year” What! Is! The Timeline!

-Meg in that cloak reminds me of the Scottish Widow adverts. Georgie is so greedy- she steals every single scene she is in! Even when she’s raging she has more dignity and more presence than KoA ever has.

-”YOU LYING SOD” i burst out laughing it’s really not the little two-timing shit’s day, is it?

-Mary receiving Charlie B in the most Extra way possible. A++

-Why does Wolsey look like he’s about to cry?

-”thoughts are not actions” Lina I love you but... that is NOT what the New Testament says. Jesus said evil thoughts are very very much sins. I’ll give you a pass because maybe you haven’t been Catholic as long as Katherine has? Idk your backstory.

-Aaand now she’s wishing death on Bessie and her unborn baby and Lina isn’t disgusted? At least Katherine is feeling guilty. AS SHE SHOULD.

-”must it always fall to me to be magnanimous?” Katherine, you think only of yourself, for 23 out of every 24 hours.

-”God wants me to be compassionate to Bessie because of my sins” God wants you to be compassionate because that’s how Christianity is supposed to work. It’s not very selfless of you to decide to be selfless so that you can get what you want.

-oh wow look at that! She’s getting some self-awareness, i never saw that coming.

-”you betrayed Bessie” 5 points to Katherine of Aragon for standing up for Bessie when Henry screwed her over. Finally, some positive character development.

- MINUS 20000 POINTS FOR BABY STEALING

-WHAT THE FUCK

-is henry so dumb he thinks that baby is Katherine’s? Katherine was so obviously not pregnant

-When a baby’s born his skin needs to touch his mother’s skin so they can bond. They should have at least an hour’s cuddle time. Katherine of Aragon is literally traumatising a baby the very minute he is born. For her own selfish, selfish desires.

#the spanish princess

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the-other-art-blog · 3 years

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Little Men thoughts part 8: The Brookes

This is such a sad post.

John Brooke

John dies and it’s the most heartbreaking thing that happens to the family after Beth’s passing. I just would have like to see more of him in this book. Although, Louisa had a hard time writing about the people who were gone so I understand why she couldn’t include him more.

Fritz does say he lost his best friend.

Mr. Bhaer went hastily away quite bowed with grief, for in John Brooke he had lost both friend and brother, and there was no one left to take his place.

I would have also liked some words from Laurie. He wasn’t the best student and yet John had to bear it cause he needed the money. But he also played a part in making a man out of Laurie. And both Fritz and Laurie learned a lot from John’s parenting. I would have liked seeing the men interacting more.

I found in an article about Alf Whitman this extract from a letter that John Pratt (real life John Brooke) wrote about his marriage:

Our life together has been so beneficial, so satisfying, so peaceful so pure & happy that it seems to me almost as if we were designed by Providence for one another, & the hopes and wishes I used to recount to you have far more than been realized, so much so that there is nothing left for me to ask for, our life is one long day of sunshine.

The boys called him “the best” and he certainly was. Meg won the lottery by marrying him. He was such a hard working man and he really gave Meg everything she needed, even leaving her free of debts. I suppose he always knew he would die soon.

Meg

That letter, previously quoted, was supposed to be sent by Anna (real life Meg), but since she did it late, she added,

John and I plod along happily in our little home, daily finding how very little is necessary when one has plenty of love in the cupboard. My dear old man grows gooder & handsomer & happier every day and I really can’t see that we have much left to desire in this world.

When you have someone like that, losing them must be unbearable.

Meg is such a strong woman. Honestly, I hate every time people say she (and Amy) contended herself with a domestic life. In reality she got everything she wanted. Not every woman wants to participate in a revolution and that’s ok! Some dream of a cozy home to share with a partner and kids. It doesn’t make their lives any less relevant.

Most people pay attention to either Amy&Laurie or Jo&Fritz. I know I did, but after reading those letter I won’t make the same mistake. Meg and John’s story is equally important and epic!

I suppose that just as John was a model for Fritz and Laurie, Meg was a model for her younger sisters. They also had Marmee but a sister is a different kind of connection.

Meg became a widow at 30 years old (maybe 31 or 32) with three kids, one of which will barely have memories of him. And I’m sure she’s dying inside and at times she wants to actually die.

When John died, Anna wrote to Alf,

All looks dark to me, and at times I feel that I cannot live.

But the way she composed herself during the funeral was remarkable.

"Dear Jo, the love that has blest me for ten happy years supports me still. It could not die, and John is more my own than ever,"

In my experience, funerals are the moment when you’re numb. The loss has just happened and there’s so much happening. There’s preparation to be made and you have be polite to the attendants (and then the mass and the rosaries in Catholic tradition), and everything just moves so fast. It’s the days that follow that are horrible. It’s when you actually feel there’s someone missing.

It’s in moments like this where religion really helps people and why it’s never going to go away. That belief that they’re going to be separated for a while, but they’ll meet again must have help Meg to accept his death and find comfort in her kids and family.

Daisy and Josie

I already talked about Daisy in Part 2, and I repeat I would have liked to see her grieving, but I understand why the focus in on Demi. There’s an episode in Modern Family where Alex’s boyfriend confesses that his biggest worry is to not be as good as Phil, cause he is such a wonderful man and dad. Oh boy, John really set the bar incredibly high for Nat and Josie’s future husband.

Josie is really only mentioned here, thought she must be a year younger that Bess, so like 3 years old. So, to correct my post from a few weeks ago. The March women were pregnant in consecutive years!!! Can you imagine that?! First Amy, then Meg and lastly Jo. Jesus, those poor men haha.

Demi

In Little Women Chapter 45 it is stated that the twins are advanced. Demi became a bookworm, sure her aunt Jo is super proud. Plus, he definitely uses Sherlock’s technique of a ‘mind palace’! And he bonded with his grandfather because of this.

All the times where he mispronounces something is so cute and reminded me so much of Amy in LW.

“a sackerryfice”

“an arrygory”

It’s really fun. Honestly, not just him, but every time a kid mispronounces something :3

There this idea of “the man of the house”. So John’s death really forces him to grow up, especially when he has a mother and two sisters to take care of. There’s no brother who might help him. He has cousins and uncles but it’s not the same. It breaks my heart when Jo finds him crying at night.

Part 1: Jo and Fritz,

Part 2: the girls at Plumfield

Part 3: Nat Blake

Part 4: Laurie

Part 5: Jo and Laurie

Part 6: Bess Laurence

Part 7: Amy Laurence

#little women #little men #louisa may alcott #meg broke #john brooke #meg x john #demi and daisy #josie brooke #anna alcott pratt #john pratt

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whatwouldmindykdo · 3 years

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I wrote a little something about coming to terms with my sexuality and thought I’d share it here...

For as long as I can remember I’ve dreamt of my wedding day. As soon as I was able to comprehend the concept of wedding and marriage it became my only goal, my ultimate achievement: I wanted, I needed to get married. This would make me successful and prove my worthiness. I would be happy forever. And so, for years, I’d spend hours imagining the magical day: the dress, of course, and its designer, the venue, the guests, the music, the menu, the bridal party, the decor. And of course, the groom. Because it was always a groom. However, I would find it extremely difficult to imagine him. I could think of qualities I would look for in a partner, but that was it. Looking back now, I think that, more than any of these things, what I dreamt of was being loved and being in love. I was just hoping to find the kind of unconditional love I grew up surrounded by. Not a person but a feeling. An ideal.

I grew up in what you would probably call a liberal family. My parents are very open-minded, left-wing voters and I grew up having political debates at the dinner table. But it was always about tolerance. Every love is love, they would say. Everyone deserves to be happy, they would say.

This, however, was not true for them growing up. Both my parents grew up in working class families and worked their way into the middle class. As liberal as my parents are, their own parents were rather conservative in thought.

My father’s parents had grown up on farms. Their own parents, my great-grandparents, lived a life I cannot even begin to comprehend. After the Second World War, as life was changing everywhere, and especially in the countryside, my grandparents left for the city (well, a city, not THE city) to work in factories. They were deeply religious and my father was raised a Catholic. However, he also enjoyed great freedom. He was free to come and go, almost as he wished, to play with his brother and friends. He was free not to work in school, drop out after middle school and go on to work with his father. Which he did, for a while, until he realized he didn’t want to do that his entire life. In other words, he was free to fail, and try again. Would it had been the same thing had he been a girl? We will never know, as he was one of two boys.

My mother, on the other hand, was not. Her grandparents had been mining workers, as almost everyone in the area. Her own parents had been saved from this life, and pushed to look for work in other industries. They had married young and my mother was the eldest of two. Her parents were heavily involved in political and union movements, pushing for workers’ rights. This gave her an awareness of the political situation and an ideal of what is achievable when you work for it. My mother, however, is also a woman. And as such, her parents expected her to behave a certain way.

She was expected to be the perfect little girl. Calm, pretty, smiling. Not to take too much space. Do well in school. Be polite. And so my mother tried her best to be this ideal girl. She excelled in school, practiced many sports, and took it upon herself to keep the family together and happy. She eventually went on to work and had to move out to another city, but always close to family as she was sharing an apartment with her aunt. When she found another job closer to her parents, she moved back home. Eventually, she met my father. They dated for a couple of years, but moving in together was unfathomable. Not before marriage. And that’s how my parents ended up married without having ever lived together, something I honestly find quite hard to imagine. Her brother, on the other hand, lived a life closer to my dad’s. He could not roam the streets or drop out of school but he did leave high school without graduating, moving out to work away and never looked back. He introduced many girlfriends to his parents before eventually having a child and getting married, in that order.

My parents would probably tell you that they raised me and my brother the same way. That not more was expected of me. That I could do the exact same thing he did. And to some extent that is true. We were both expected to excel in school. To be polite and respectful. We were both told we could dream of being whoever we wanted to be. But what had been instilled to my mother was also, somehow, perhaps more sneakily, taught to me. I also had to be the perfect little girl, no excuses. The one that doesn’t move. The one that doesn’t scream or make a scene. The one that helps at home. As Michelle Cliff says in Notes on Speechlessness, ‘I am reminded that a great compliment of my childhood was: ‘she’s such a quiet girl’’.

Instead of rebelling against this system I made it mine: it was my way of taking up space. My way of being remarkable. I was expected to excel at school: I was top of the class. I was expected to be calm and discreet: I would literally never speak. Even today it takes a lot for me to be able to do things I know my parents disapprove. Because I have built myself through others’ approval, and then who am I once they don’t approve?

What does that have to do with being a lesbian, you may wonder. See, I knew about lesbians. I knew about gays. It was not entirely unknown to me. I saw them on the news, we talked about them at home. But no one in my family was gay, lesbian or part of the LGBTQI+ community, at least not openly. That was not what we did. As much as my family rebelled against capitalistic society, we were expected to conform in certain areas, and this was one. We, as a family, are heterosexuals. And so I unconsciously associated being a good girl to being heterosexual.

I don’t remember the first time I heard of the LGBTQI+ community, nor do I remember the first time I had a crush on a girl. I am quite sure she was my primary school best friend. I very clearly remember wondering whether I was in love with her or whether that was just how you felt for your best friend (hint: I kinda knew the answer). And so, little me moved on with life. Eventually the feeling wore out, and there was a very intense and dramatic fall out. But that was it, no more questions about my sexuality. Not until I was well into my teenage years, at least. When I made it to university I had began what I would call my transformative journey, learning extensively about feminism, inclusivity and human rights. I was passionate about these subjects and wanted to learn more, and more. I surrounded myself with people who were open-minded, teaching me about these very topics, and, for some of them, part of the LGBTQI+ community. At about this time I began identifying as pansexual or bisexual. I have never been really sure about this. There was no major coming out though. I just stated here and there that I thought love was about a person and their soul, not their gender. Even though I was identifying as pansexual / bisexual, the doubt never really left. I felt ill-at-ease with the identification. Maybe I’m not into labels, I’d think. Maybe.

Deep down, I knew. I think I’d always known. I would get major crushes on women in films and TV shows. Maybe that’s just identification. I could hardly imagine being in a relationship with a man. Maybe I just haven’t met THE one. I would feel uncomfortable whenever a man flirted with me. Maybe I’m just not into him.

I just couldn’t imagine being a lesbian. And that’s not to say that I could fathom the very existence of lesbians. I knew they existed, I had a friend as they say. I truly believed that all love is love. What I couldn’t accept was that I was a lesbian. How could I not like men? Good girls like men. Good girls are straight. Good girls get married TO A MAN, and have children WITH A MAN. No way. I must be pansexual. Or bisexual. Not lesbian.

Funnily enough, the pandemic was a big transitional time for me. I was able to truly connect with myself. Away from the world and the mundanities of everyday life, focusing on what really matters for the first time, I came to a realization. I do not like men. I do not find pleasure in imagining a relationship with a man. This realization was validated by experience. I signed up on a dating app (what??? I know, don’t judge). My immediate reaction was to set up my preferences to women only (that should have been another hint right?!). However, almost immediately I changed those preferences to everyone (men and women). Why? Because, I thought, by excluding men I might miss out on the one (he’s always somewhere). What if I miss on the opportunity of happily ever after because I renounce to dating half of humanity? And oh boy did I regret that. I was instantly contacted by half the male population of my surroundings (the joys of being on a dating app) and it really felt like it was not for me. I was feeling miserable rather than happy, anxious rather than excited. I switched back to women only and I have felt safer and more myself ever since.

I guess you could say that I have been feeling rather at peace with who I am. I have come out to a few (selected) friends, in the least dramatic way possible (well, they also are the least dramatic women I know). There remains the question, however, of coming out to family. Because although I have come to term with being a lesbian, I am still scared AF when it comes to coming out to my family and the main reason is: what if I am not lesbian after all (eye roll emoji)? The real reason, though, is that I know that as open-minded as my parents are, a coming out also means a period of adaptation, of understanding what it means exactly. And for someone like me who hates both confrontation and disappointing this feels like a big deal. Selfishly, I wish someone had been there before in my family. That I would not be the first. The trailblazer. The odd one out. The lesbian aunt. But then, I think of my little cousins. And how I could be that person for them. If I allow myself past the fear.

Thing is, I also truly believe that I will not be able to be fully happy until I come out. I will not be truly happy until I can be who I am fully, knowing that the people who accept it are the ones who love me, for real. But what if that means losing my grandfather? What if it means that people will literally never stop talking about it?

As much as I have talked about the hardships of coming out and coming to terms with my sexuality, I will also mention that coming to terms with this reality has been a huge relief. It has opened me to a world where love and inclusion are legion. A world where you are accepted for who you truly are. It has given me role models, values and a political awareness that I probably would not have had otherwise. In other words, being lesbian is a blessing because it is who I am, fully. And when I get to be this person, I can finally start to breathe. I can finally start to live.

My problem lies with mainstream culture and the way it portrays lesbian relationships. I have grown up with the ability of seeing gay couples loving each other, hating each other, flirting, breaking up. Mainstream media and popular culture have very much romanticized gay relationships. What of lesbian relationships then? The reality is completely different. And how could it not be when Instagram still censored the ‘lesbians’ hashtag two weeks ago? When we only have The L Word as a reference? Where on TV and in films have lesbians been given the space and time to actually develop a relationship except in that show? And I’m not even talking about the perfect, happy relationship. Just any relationship. More than 3 minutes of screen time. You’ll have to agree that this is rather recent.

How different would my life have been if I had seen lesbian couples on TV? How different would my life have been if people had not shied away from lesbian relationships? It is time for pop culture to be inclusive of our people. Little girls need this representation. They need to know that this kind of love exists, is normal, and brings fulfillment. I wish this had been my reality so that I wouldn’t have been mad when Casey from Atypical dumps her boyfriend to explore her relationship with Izzie. Because then perhaps I wouldn’t have been mad at her for doing that. I wouldn’t have been mad at Izzie for being honest. Because that is how deeply rooted my fear of being a lesbian was: I was mad at these two women for having the courage to explore their feelings and be true to themselves, when Casey could have had the perfect ending with Evan. And that is not ok. I need to let go of the idea that the perfect life means being in a heterosexual relationship. Because I know that this is not for me. This will not bring me fulfillment.

#lesbian #lgbtqplus #about me #sexuality #coming out?#gays of tumblr

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