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#Can you tell which one i had a reference for..
arieslost · 2 days
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ok i don’t know if it’s just me who gets really giggly when it’s late at night but imagine laying in bed with lando and you’re just rambling about smth so stupid that it ends with you two just giggling at nothing. like getting full on stomach cramps from laughing but there wasn’t even anything funny to begin with
anon u and i are the SAME! once its past midnight i always end up becoming a victim of the late night sillies 💔
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1:30 am | ln4
you knew you were up too late when you nearly tripped over the loose edge of the blanket you and lando had been sharing on your way back to the couch, and when he had caught you before you could hit your head or anything, you started laughing.
“oh, no,” he’d groaned dramatically. “got the late night giggles already, huh?”
“uh-uh,” you shook your head, even though him saying the words “late night giggles” was enough to make laughter start bubbling up in your throat again.
something always shifted in you when the clock struck a certain hour at night, and lando had only been witness to it a handful of times before you moved in together.
now, you’d managed to get through the rest of the movie the two of you were watching without laughing, even if it meant biting your lip hard and refusing to make eye contact with your boyfriend. it was bad enough feeling his eyes on you every time he wanted to see your reaction to something that happened on the tv. making eye contact would just take you out entirely for no reason whatsoever.
which is why you think you’ve successfully avoided making a fool of yourself when you’re both finally laying in bed with the lights out at the fine hour of 1:30 in the morning.
“you’re so far away,” lando grumbles, dragging your body into his so his one arm is around your shoulders and your face is nestled in his neck.
“better?” you ask, smiling when he shivers as your lips brush his skin.
“mhmm.” he’s quiet for a moment, running his fingers up and down your arm. “you’re gonna come to miami, right?”
“yeah, if you want me to.”
“what kind of question is that, babe?” he cranes his neck in a way that tells you he’s fixing you with a judgy look even though you can’t see each other.
you shrug, feeling the giggles building up again for no reason whatsoever. “i dunno.”
“obviously i want you there, why wouldn’t i?”
“i dunno,” you repeat. “it’s miami. maybe you just wanna party with all your homies.” and just like that, you’re laughing again.
“oh dear god, here we go,” he sighs, pressing his lips together to repress his own laughter as your body shakes against his. “my homies? when have i ever referred to any of my mates as my ‘homie’?”
he sounds so incredulous that you laugh even harder. “oh, you’re so british! i can’t call them your mates, lan. it sounds too weird.”
“so homies is the word you went with? why can’t you be normal and just say my friends?”
“why can’t you be normal and say your friends?” you shoot back, and that does lando in.
“it’s not funny,” he tries to admonish, and it’s entirely true, but it’s a moot point when you can barely understand him through his laughter.
“stop laughing then!”
“you stop!”
naturally, that makes you both laugh harder still, to the point where you have to roll away from him, clutching your stomach from how badly all the laughing is making it hurt.
“i can’t breathe,” lando gasps from behind you.
“stop laughing,” you repeat. “you’re killing me.”
“i think i’m dying,” he continues like he didn’t hear you, and he honestly might not have because your face is half shoved into your pillow in your attempts to stifle yourself.
a few more minutes go by of the two of you absolutely losing your minds before you’re finally able to catch your breath.
“ow,” you whine, holding your stomach. “i think i just grew a six pack.”
“i think mine just became ten times more defined,” lando says, voice raspy from all the exertion on his vocal chords.
“ooh, lemme feel.”
“absolutely not, because you’re going to tickle me,” he grabs your wrist out of thin air. “i know your tricks, baby. i’ve laughed more than enough tonight thanks to you.”
“not my fault you’re weird and british.”
“i love you,” he says sweetly, pulling you back towards him and kissing your forehead. “now’s where you say, ‘i love you too.’”
“i love you too,” you reply dutifully, blindly reaching for his face so you can kiss him properly. “even though you’re weird and british.”
he kisses you again. “i thought it was especially because i’m weird and british.”
you snuggle into his side, now thoroughly exhausted. “please don’t make me laugh more, lan.”
you both know he’s right, of course, but you usually need to have the last word, so he lets you get away with it. he does love you, after all, even though you had him in stitches over nothing at 1:30 in the morning.
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word count: 790
masterlist — join my tag list here!
note: this was sooo self indulgent, like i was laughing as i wrote this because the term “homies” is so silly to me for some reason. also helped me test my dialogue skills!! n e wayz…
requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation!
reblogs are greatly appreciated <33
dividers by @/saradika
tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @vintagefucksstuff @piastorys @jisungstuff @personwhoisther @bernelflo
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gyeomsweetgyeom · 3 days
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[8:08 am]
reference pic!
(cw: a child)
CEO!Jaemin's phone was ringing like crazy in his pocket, and yet as hard as he tried not to let it bother him, it was bothering him. He had let his assistant know he would be in late and to let everyone that needed to know know, so why was he getting calls?
His daughter's small hand was held in his own while she skipped and ran her fingers through the bushes and plants against along the sidewalk while she sang to herself. She was so cute.
Jaemin even had to admit he was proud of how put-together she looked this morning. Her hair looked neat, which was a struggle and a half since she was very picky since you always "did it better." Since the last time he did her hair, he'd made you be his model so he could learn some simple hairstyles for when you weren't able to do her hair. It was the best ponytail he'd ever done and he made sure to take tons of pictures to show you later.
This morning you'd left earlier than usual to handle some business which meant it was up to Jaemin to get his daughter ready and to school. They'd left on time and parked a ways away so they could walk and look at the flowers. Jaemin could never say no to his daughter- it was a real problem.
He sighed as he begrudgingly pulled his phone from his pocket, quickly tightening his hold on his daughter’a hand and adjusting the pink hello kitty backpack on his shoulder. “Hello?” He asked bluntly into the phone.
“Mr. Na, I’m sorry. I know you’re coming in late, but one of the board members came in early and is requesting a meeting. I’ve already told him you won’t be in right away but I can hear him leaving you messages. Maybe, don’t listen to them with your daughter around…” his assistant explained nervously.
Jaemin sighed, sending his daughter a bright smile when her concerned face turned to look up at him, “just let him know I’ll be there in 20. While you’re at it, please contact the rest of the board members and remind them about basic etiquette. Never mind, I’ll do that myself. I’ll be there in 20. Thanks for the heads up.”
He hangs up the phone and steps through the gates of his daughter’s school. He walks her to the door where other students and parents are looking at him with wonder. He can hear the mothers whispering about how handsome he looks and the dads mumbling about his he wasn’t all that. He laughed it off and crouched down to his daughter’s height.
He pulled the fluffy backpack off his shoulder and helped his daughter put it on. A backpack that was just over half her size, but she begged and begged, so of course Jaemin got it for her. He swore he saw some of the teachers in the hall fan themselves at that. He was going to have a blast telling you all about the fawning women later.
“Ok, are you going to be good today?” He asked his daughter in a soft voice.
She nodded dutifully, her pony tail bouncing up and down. He smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “good girl. I’ll see you later. Love you, baby girl.”
“I love you mostest!” His daughter smiles, pressing a wet kiss to his cheek before she darts off into the hallway.
Jaemin watches her with a bittersweet feeling. She was growing up too fast, just a few months ago she would cling to your legs and beg you not to leave her. Now, she was running off without even looking back.
Or so he thought, she got to her class and turned to Jaemin with a smile that resembled his own, and waved. Good, now he could get through the day.
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megalony · 1 day
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Baby-Trapped - Part 3
Here is the latest part in my Evan Buckley series, thank you all for the amazing feedback and the ideas which have helped me keep going with this series so thank you.
Feel free to send in any more ideas and let me know what you think.
Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17
@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone
Evan Buckley Masterlist
Series Masterlist
Summary: (Y/n) distances herself from Evan when the people at her college believe he shouldn't be with someone younger and inexperienced like her. But things change when she falls pregnant.
Enjoy.
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"I do believe that's mine." Folding his arms over his chest, Evan grinned and crossed one leg in front of the other as he leant against the wall.
His eyes drifted up and down (Y/n)'s frame a few times and he felt his heart jumping in his chest when she tilted her head back and looked over her shoulder at him with wide eyes. He loved the way her lips parted in surprise and she froze, caught red handed.
(Y/n) turned away from the mirror in the corner of the room and looked across at Evan like a deer caught in the headlights. But the way he smiled at her and didn't hide the lust in his eyes made adrenaline pool in her stomach.
She glanced down and looked up and down her attire which Evan was referring to.
She was wearing his shirt.
It took a few seconds for (Y/n) to tear her gaze away from Evan who looked so casual leant up against the wall. His short-sleeved shirt showing off the tattoos littering his biceps which were tense and taut. And his work shirt clung to his chest and showed off every ridge and crevace.
Turning her head, (Y/n) looked back at the reflection staring at her in the mirror. She was wearing a pair of black leggings and Evan's white button up shirt with vertical beige stripes all over. The shirt hung limply off her shoulders and hung down near her knees due to the height difference between the couple, but Evan would admit she looked great in his clothes.
"Why're you stealing my stuff, hm?" Pushing off the wall, Evan padded across the carpet until he was stood behind (Y/n).
He looped both arms around her neck and leaned down to kiss the top of her head while (Y/n) gave his forearm a squeeze.
Evan loved her wearing his clothes. He thought she looked amazing in any of his things. Especially his shirts that she went to sleep in or his hoodies when she was cold. But she was going to class now. Evan wasn't used to seeing (Y/n) go to college wearing his clothes. She usually wore his stuff when they were lounging about at home or when she wanted to wind Evan up.
"I thought it might help… but I don't think I can pass unnoticed anymore." (Y/n) trailed her hands down from Evan's arms to cup her stomach wistfully.
She hoped wearing something of Evan's might do her image a little good. That because his clothes were always baggy on her, (Y/n) could get away with another week or two of going to class and not showing that she was pregnant.
Not that it really mattered either way because Sandra had told the entire campus and (Y/n) had to tell their class teacher, just to be safe in case anything happened. Everyone in their class knew the rumours and (Y/n) wasn't embarrassed, but she liked sitting in class and not having a reason for people to stare.
When she started to show, people were going to stare and (Y/n) hated being the centre of attention. Unless it was Evan's attention she was getting.
"Good."
A gentle smile pulled at (Y/n)'s lips when Evan loosened his arms from around her waist and moved his hands down to her stomach. And she tilted her head back into his chest and giggled softly when he raked her shirt up and bunched it just below her bra so he could see her stomach.
His fingertips tickled her skin as he moved his palms to cup her stomach and started to draw patterns into her stomach.
They were just about twenty weeks along now and (Y/n) was properly beginning to show.
Evan was infatuated.
He loved the new shape of her stomach and the fact that her shape proved they were going to have a baby. He was bouncing off the walls, waiting to feel the baby move and start to feel them kicking.
"I wanna see our baby and show them off." Evan tilted his head to the right and attached his lips to (Y/n)'s neck which made a shiver course down her spine.
He grinned against her skin and dragged his teeth along her neck when (Y/n) kissed his temple. And he felt her hands move down to cup his wrists as she leaned back into him. This was what made it worth it. (Y/n) knew she would be able to handle the stares at college and any remarks people threw at her. Because at the end of the day, she was coming home to Evan and they were both desperate to have this baby. That was all that mattered.
"Babe?"
"Hm?" Evan opened his eyes enough to lock gazes with (Y/n) in the mirror so she knew he was listening. Before he closed his eyes again and went back to biting her neck.
"I think we can find out the gender today… what do you want me to do? Should I wait?"
(Y/n) almost felt bad when Evan groaned into her neck and pulled her back into his chest with his palms flat against her stomach. He was on shift today until late tonight and he couldn't get a shift swap so he could go along to the scan today.
The only bright side Evan had was this wasn't (Y/n)'s first scan. He had been to her first two scans with her and had heard the baby's heartbeat for the first time. Missing this scan was going to grate on his nerves and play on his mind, but it wasn't as bad as not being there for the first one or being there if (Y/n) was unwell.
But (Y/n) knew they would be able to find out the gender today and they had both agreed that they wanted to know before the birth. If Evan wasn't going to be there with her, (Y/n) wanted to know if she should wait until he was at their next scan to find out.
"I could surprise you, do a gender reveal just for you, if you like."
(Y/n) knew the moment Evan grinned into her neck that he liked the sound of that. And she felt his tongue dart across the mark he'd just bitten into her neck, soothing the slight burn he'd created beneath her skin.
She could find out the gender today and get something to do a little gender surprise for Evan. They had already said they didn't want a gender reveal party or anything like that. (Y/n) didn't even want a baby shower. They would tell the station and their family the gender when they found out, but it wasn't going to be a special occasion or anything like that.
"Okay baby, you surprise me." Evan moved one hand to cup the side of (Y/n)'s face and he tilted her head in his direction to get a kiss.
His tongue swiped at her lower lip, begging for entrance while his right hand started tracing letters and aimless swirls across (Y/n)'s stomach until she was squirming against him.
"Are we going now, then?" (Y/n) kissed him again and sucked on his lower lip before she pulled out of his arms and rolled his shirt back down over her stomach.
But her eyes rolled and she huffed when Evan leaned down and yanked the shirt back up again and pulled her closer by her hips. Her hands fell to his shoulders and she could of swooned, feeling her knees buckling when Evan leaned down and attached his lips to her stomach.
"We'll be late." Her fingers dragged through Evan's hair and she ruffled his curls, brushing them back on his head.
(Y/n) knew by now that it was pointless to tell Evan he didn't have to drop her off at college. He wanted to and (Y/n) loved the fact that he wanted to take her and pick her up and look after her. And it was easier than walking down there and working up a sweat. And morning sickness didn't combine well with a long walk from home down to college since (Y/n) was now officially moved in with Evan.
"Remember Maddie's picking you up later." Evan straightened up and pecked her temple while he curved his arm around her waist and walked behind her towards the stairs.
"Babe I can get the bus to the hospital, it's only ten minutes away." Evan dropping her anywhere was different, but (Y/n) didn't want to start bothering anyone else. And she didn't want Maddie to feel obligated or like she had to take her anywhere.
"No, Maddie's taking you. She's excited."
(Y/n) nodded and rolled the shirt back down, again, and smoothed it out around her thighs as they headed downstairs. She wouldn't refuse a lift if Maddie was happy and willing to take her, as long as she wasn't putting Maddie out of her way or ruining her day.
And it would be good to have some company at her scan, (Y/n) didn't want to go to that alone.
***
Closing her eyes, (Y/n) looped her bag higher on her shoulder and pushed ahead out the classroom door.
She was never usually the first to leave but today, (Y/n) didn't care. She wanted to go. She was a mixture of bundled nerves of excitement and panicked nerves that people were looking at her.
Arriving on campus had felt fine, it had felt great in fact, because Evan had dropped her off and he had put up a fight to get her to stay in the car and give him 'just one more kiss'. He boosted her spirits and as she left the car, (Y/n) could still feel his fingertips touching all over her stomach and she could hear his voice in her ear telling her she looked great. She looked sexy. Pregnant was a good look on her. He was addicted to her.
His words made (Y/n) feel elated and she made it to class feeling happy with herself and how she looked.
Sitting with Tina through both classes had been fine right up until (Y/n) could see Sandra aiming for them.
She didn't want to hang around and hear whatever slurrs or insults she decided to throw at her today. (Y/n) made sure she was the first out the classroom so she could leave campus before anyone tried to talk to her or Sandra tried to insult her.
Her eyes dithered between the hall and the corridor on her left and after a split second, (Y/n) turned left and sprinted to the girl's toilets.
It was a relief that the toilets were empty.
(Y/n) slumped her bag down on the cubicle floor, kicked the door shut behind her and crouched down just in time to throw up her lunch. It would be best not to tell Evan she had thrown up again when she next spoke to him. He wouldn't be pleased and he would start to worry. (Y/n) didn't want to worry him while he was on shift.
She would make sure she ate something substantial for tea and had some fruit and sugar to boost her system.
A groan tumbled past her lips and her knees shook as she slowly tried to push herself back up when she was done throwing up. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and rummaged around in her bag for the chewing gum she stole from Evan for this very reason.
Leaning her back up against the cubicle, (Y/n) chewed the gum and sighed quietly to herself.
Her hands moved down to cup her stomach and she glared down as if she could see through her stomach to the baby that was making her body this disorientated. But as (Y/n) danced her hands around her small bump, she huffed and dropped her arms down. It didn't feel the same as when Evan touched her stomach. It didn't feel as good.
She put the gum in the bin and hooked her bag over her shoulder but when she walked out the cubicle, she gasped and stumbled on her back foot.
Carla.
One of Sandra's cronies was leaning against the cubicle wall with her hands clasped behind her back and a sickly sweet smile on her face. She wasn't as bad as Sandra, but (Y/n) didn't get along with any of their little cliché. Carla was nosey, she was the one going round telling everyone that (Y/n) was dating an older man
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." Bypassing Carla, (Y/n) quickly washed her hands and moved towards the door. She wasn't hanging around for an insult.
"So it's true then. Should I say congratulations?"
Carla caught the door before it slammed in her face and she hurried to keep up the pace with (Y/n) who stormed down the hall. She wanted to leave. She had to hurry up and see if Maddie was outside so they could get to the appointment on time. (Y/n) was tempted to just run straight to the bus stop and be done with everyone here if it would get her out of this conversation any quicker.
"Does your fireman know yet? Must be a shock, being tied down to you-"
"I think my fella knows by now, don't you?" Stopping in her tracks, (Y/n) turned to the left and looked at Carla with raised brows. She moved her hands down and cupped her stomach, pressing Evan's shirt down into her waist so her bump was evident.
Evan would have to be pretty distant, clueless or pain silly if he didn't know by now that (Y/n) was pregnant. Not that it was anyone's business but theirs, but (Y/n) was tired. She was tired of the questions and the looks and the petty remarks.
No more loose clothes. No more worrying. They can all see what they like.
If they were all so interested, (Y/n) would revert back to wearing her clothes and only wear Evan's clothes when she had nothing else that fit or when she wanted to tease him in the bedroom. She would come to class in her tight, stretchy tops that showed off her stomach. She would wear her jeans and smile when they didn't zip up over her bump anymore.
She wouldn't look or panic if the girls could see Evan dropping her off at college. And she would smile and feel her heart ignite when he attached himself to her and whisper how sexy he thought she looked.
If they were this interested, (Y/n) would let them all stare. It would be better and much easier than trying to explain herself when she didn't have to.
This was her baby and she was happy to be having Evan's baby, there was no reason for (Y/n) to feel worried or embarrassed about what people would say.
"Go bother someone else Carla, I'm busy." With that being said, (Y/n) pushed ahead and hurried out the doors onto campus.
She wasn't sure what type of car she was supposed to be looking for. Evan neglected to mention what car his sister drove and (Y/n) suddenly felt too awkward to try and ring Maddie and ask if she was here and what car to look out for. But her panic was all for nothing when she got towards the drop off lane just outside the campus.
(Y/n) could easily see a familiar face grinning through the window and a hand waving and beckoning her over. Problem solved.
Hurrying over, (Y/n) opened the door and slid down into the passenger seat. It was a change to have to lean down to get into Maddie's car rather than how she had to hike up to get into Evan's jeep.
Evan had started joking that in another two months or less, he was going to have to start lifting (Y/n) in and out of the jeep.
She hoped that wasn't going to be the case.
"Hi." (Y/n) smiled softly and placed her bag down in between her feet, forcing herself not to look out the window in case any of the girls were looking. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing they were upsetting her. They couldn't bring down (Y/n)'s mood. Not today.
"Hey, are we ready?" Maddie reached across and gave (Y/n)'s thigh a squeeze before she pulled away from the curb.
Her smile was enough to brighten (Y/n)'s mood and make her feel more at ease and comfortable. She had been surprised how quickly Maddie had taken to her and accepted her as a sister. (Y/n) thought it would of been harder than this to win her over, knowing how close she and Evan were.
"You didn't have to do this, you know." (Y/n)'s voice was soft and quiet as she looked across at Maddie.
She wanted her to know she was grateful for the lift, she wasn't taking this for granted. (Y/n) didn't expect Maddie to take her anywhere, she wasn't used to having siblings or a close family connection like Evan had with his team. It was strange, but it was also lovely to meet people and find she could talk to them and maybe even rely on them.
"I told Buck I'd be happy to drop you off or pick you up. Besides, we're not having you walk all that way to the doctors, we need to look after you."
A spark of adrenaline fluttered to life in (Y/n)'s stomach and she dipped her head down, glancing at her stomach for a few seconds. She was very lucky. (Y/n) couldn't begin to imagine what it would feel like if her fears had come true and Evan's friends and family thought of her the same way the girls in her class seemed to think of her.
It didn't take them long to get to the hospital and (Y/n) sucked in a deep breath, trying to hide her smile when Maddie looped their arms together as they walked inside.
When they headed into the maternity ward and sat down in the waiting room, (Y/n) turned to look at the elder girl.
"Would… would you come into the scan with me? I don't wanna go in on my own."
She could see the surprise on Maddie's face, but it was as if she started to melt. Her brown eyes softened and her cheeks puffed up as she smiled and reached across to take (Y/n)'s hand.
"Of course I will."
(Y/n) had been into both her other scans with Evan. She didn't fancy going in on her own. She wanted someone there by her side to share the joy and the anticipation and help her feel calm.
Maddie ran her hand up and down (Y/n)'s arm for a few seconds since their arms were still locked together. But when she looked (Y/n) up and down, her smile changed into a smirk and she trailed her fingertips over (Y/n)'s shoulder and gave her collar a small tug.
"I thought I recognised that shirt." She muttered softly. She realised after a few seconds that it was Evan's shirt. That was why it looked so familiar and hung off of (Y/n)'s frame like she had shrunk and lost weight. But it did suit her. It made (Y/n) look a little small but very fashionable.
"Doesn't really hide it, does it?" (Y/n) murmured wistfully, moves her hands up and down her bump.
But she grinned when Maddie leaned over her and dared to rub her hand up and down her stomach for a few seconds.
"You don't have to hide, you're not a teenager, you've got nothing to be worried about. You look lovely, show it off."
"Evan said something similar."
It was only college and the girls in her class that were making (Y/n) uneasy about showing off her stomach. But she could feel her resolve ebbing away each day and Carla had topped it off today. (Y/n) didn't have to hide. She wasn't a young girl still in school wondering how she was going to bring up a child.
(Y/n) was in college and she was nearly done with her degree. She was in a stable relationship with someone she loved. She and Evan lived together, they were happy and they were doing this together. There was no reason for (Y/n) to feel worried or ashamed. Other girls on campus already had children and were taking their degrees at the same time.
And all the timing was working out. If (Y/n) passed her classes and got her degree on time, she would be done with college just before the baby was born. Then she could have some time off before she found herself a job at the hospital or a local doctor's office. (Y/n) could have her degree, have some time to herself to be with Evan and their baby and then get a job and be in the swing of things.
When her name was called out, the girls got up together and walked through after the nurse.
It didn't take long to run through the usual little tasks when they got in there. (Y/n) hopped on the scales, answered a few questions and then rolled her shirt up and tucked it into her bra so the midwife could check and measure her stomach.
"That all looks in order, shall we take a look at baby?"
(Y/n) kept her shirt rolled up and she smiled softly when she realised Maddie was looking over at her stomach.
She sat up on the bed and was grateful when Maddie took her hand and stood beside her. Both their eyes locked on the monitor and (Y/n) gave Maddie's hand a squeeze when the grainy grey and black image appeared on the screen.
It had been the plan for Evan and (Y/n) to get a scan photo, find a good frame and give it to Maddie as a present. That was how they were going to tell her she was going to be an auntie. That all went up in the air when (Y/n) wasn't well and (Y/n) still hated how Maddie found out, even if she had still been so excited and thrilled when she found out. Their original plan would have been much better.
But having Maddie here to witness the scan felt like they were making up for that failed plan and it made (Y/n) feel better.
"Oh, look." Maddie pressed her free hand to her chest and tilted her head to one side as she looked lovingly at the screen. That was her little niece or nephew. That was the child Maddie was going to spoil when they arrived. That would be the baby she would parade around and tell everyone was her little brother's first child.
She would take them out shopping and to play centres and to the cinema and on little dates out and about. Maddie would do anything and everything for them and she just knew they were going to have a much more loving and fulfilling home than what her and Evan had grown up with.
Maddie had tried to make sure Evan had felt loved and appreciated when he was growing up. She became his mother rather than his sister and she knew Evan was going to make sure his child knew he loved them to the end of the Earth. He would do everything for them that Maddie had done for him.
"Baby is a healthy size, and everything looks to be in order. Do you want to know the gender, or is it a surprise?"
"Can we know, please?"
(Y/n) gave Maddie's hand another squeeze and leaned up on her elbows, unable to look back at the monitor. Her gaze was solely focused on her stomach as she waited to know if she was going to be having a baby boy or a girl.
"Okay… it's a baby girl, congratulations."
A shiver coursed down (Y/n)'s spine while her lips curled into a wide smile. It was a little strange to hear a sincere congratulations after Carla's little remark earlier, but (Y/n) couldn't focus on that anymore.
She was having a girl. She was going to see Evan with a daughter in his arms. He was going to spoil her rotten. (Y/n) knew he had secretly been hoping for a little girl, although seeing him with a boy would have been a treat to see if a baby boy would look and take after him.
"A niece!" Maddie whispered triumphantly as she gave a small tug on (Y/n)'s hand and squinted at the monitor.
Sitting herself up, (Y/n) cleaned the gel from her stomach and slowly rolled her shirt back down. She gratefully took the scan copies the midwife printed, barely listening to her say about her next appointment in three weeks. All she could think about was going home and waiting for Evan to come home so she could tell him.
How was she going to tell him? What would be the best way to surprise him with this?
She looped her arm back through Maddie's as they walked out the room, both in a daze, staring at the scan photos they each had in their hands.
"Oh, Buck's going to be so excited. How are you going to tell him?"
"I don't know, I wanna surprise him somehow… what do you think?"
(Y/n) had never seen such a grin spread over Maddie's face and she seemed to pick up the pace as she steered them both back towards the car.
"I think we need to go shopping."
***
"What about this?"
Turning to the left, (Y/n) looked across at Maddie to see what she was holding out.
The pair of them had gone into town to look for a few things to get for the baby. (Y/n) had decided on doing a little gift bag for Evan with a few items inside to surprise him with the fact that they were having a girl. And so far, (Y/n) had found a dusty pink knitted blanket with roses stitched into each corner. She decided that once they'd settled on a name, she would embroider the name onto the blanket to make it more personalised.
Maddie had already found a lovely pair of purple dolly shoes. They just needed a few more things and then they would be all set to surprise Evan.
(Y/n) looked over to see what Maddie had found and she couldn't help the wide grin that spread across her face when she read it.
It was a men's large, jet black shirt with a circle of flowers in middle and 'Girl Dad!' written in cursive across the centre. It was a novelty shirt but it was definitely something Evan would wear and it would be a dead giveaway that they were having a baby girl.
"That's perfect."
Maddie looped the shirt over her arm and did a quick sweep round the shop and moved towards the baby clothing. "What about some of the Disney stuff?" They both knew Evan was a sucker for Disney movies so a little outfit would be perfect to add to the gift.
(Y/n) held the basket out so Maddie could place the shirt and shoes in there and smiled before she moved over to the other rack of baby clothes.
It felt good to be out and about with someone other than Tina. (Y/n) didn't have a lot of close friends and Tina was the only person (Y/n) felt comfortable going out with, other than Evan. But having Maddie as a friend and now as a big sister was comforting and (Y/n) was gaining a lot of close friends in the people Evan worked with.
She felt herself becoming lost in her thoughts and it took a lot of effort for (Y/n) to stop her hands from moving down to her stomach. She was bubbling over with excitement about telling Evan. It was all she wanted to do. She wanted to see him grin and move to touch her stomach and say how happy he was.
"Oh look, it's mummy-to-be."
That shrill voice sent shivers crawling down (Y/n)'s spine. She didn't dare turn around.
Her breath caught in her throat and her blood ran cold and dwindled down to her feet as the baby did a summersault in her stomach.
Why did they have to be here? Why did Sandra have to be here at the exact same time as (Y/n)? Wasn't it bad enough they shared the same classes at college and Sandra thought she had the right to follow (Y/n) around and tease her? Why did she have to carry it on outside of college?
Couldn't she just ignore (Y/n) and carry on with her day?
(Y/n) could feel tears prickling in the corners of her eyes already and she deadlocked her hand around one of the onesies she had pulled off the rack. She tried to push away the tears and swallow down the lump in her throat before she dared to look over her shoulder and see who was walking up towards her.
It was Sandra and two other girls, Mary and Ebony. It was strange to see Sandra without Carla, but then again, (Y/n) had never bumped into them outside of campus before. She didn't know who they hung around with and she didn't want to know either. (Y/n) wanted nothing to do with them.
"Where's your fireman?" Ebony leaned her head to one side and did a quick look up and down (Y/n)'s frame, scrutinising her.
It took all of (Y/n)'s strength not to bind her arms around her stomach to hide her daughter from their prying eyes. She didn't have to be worried or ashamed. This was none of their business.
Trying to hold her head up and keep a calm, unphased expression, (Y/n) pursed her lips and gave them one glance before she looked down at her basket.
"At work. Where's your partner?" If they thought asking these type of questions was normal then (Y/n) would throw them right back. If they could ask her and prod and be nosey then so could (Y/n).
"Will he be at graduation?" Ebony pestered, totally ignoring (Y/n)'s question.
But there was no time for (Y/n) to respond before Sandra cackled and tossed her head back as if she'd heard something funny. She looked (Y/n) up and down again before moving her hand towards her stomach. (Y/n) wasn't sure whether Sandra was just trying to point towards the baby or if she wouold actually dare to reach out and touch her, but she didn't want to find out. She took a step back before Sandra could get too close.
"Be realistic, Eb. He'll be babysitting to save the embarrassment."
That hurt.
(Y/n) could feel her stomach twisting again and she sank her teeth down into her lip to stop herself from making a noise or crying. She couldn't let them see they were getting to her. It was only a few words from people who didn't know her. People who had the nerve to talk about Evan as if they knew him intimately and knew what was going through his head.
If they only spoke to him they would realise how thrilled he was and how angry he would be if they spoke like this in front of him.
"I'm sure you'd know all about embarrassing moments." (Y/n) nodded at Sandra before she stepped around her and moved to walk away.
She wasn't sure where she was walking or which direction she wanted to be going in, but she just wanted to be away from them. Today had been a good day. Two easy classes, a capable workload to take home and work through, an amazing scan. And now she was out with someone she classed as her sister trying to have a fun, stress-free afternoon. They couldn't walk in and ruin it.
"So, you're going through with it then? Trying to keep that fireman tied to you with a baby. It'd make him look horrid if he walked out on a little girl when she's having his kid- presuming it's his, of course. Not like he's got much of a choice but to stay."
Her hand balled into a fist at her side and she spun back around to face the three gargoyles that wouldn't leave her alone.
"Why is this any of your business? Why don't you go speak to my fella, see for yourself how happy he is so you can stop worrying about him so much." Her voice wobbled and rose with the spite she could feel crawling up her throat.
This was nothing to do with them. If they were so concerned about how Evan was feeling about all of this (Y/n) would gladly introduce them to him so they could see for themselves that Evan was overjoyed.
They could find out that Evan had already told his parents and everyone he worked with. They could see that he had sorted his annual leave with Bobby so he could be home when the baby was born and spend two weeks with (Y/n) after she gave birth and be with her and the baby. They could talk to him and see that he was already starting to get things ready for the baby's arrival.
"He's happy that an inexperienced girl's having his baby? Can you even look after a child, or is that gonna be his job too?"
A shudder ran down (Y/n)'s spine when she felt a hand on her shoulder and for a moment, she coiled in on herself and shrunk down.
Panic surged through her veins at the thought of Carla or another one of the plastic squad appearing behind her out of thin air to gang up on her. They wouldn't hurt her, that wasn't their style. But their belligerent yapping and snarky, rude and hurtful words were getting too much now.
But when (Y/n) looked over her shoulder, she sighed and leaned back into Maddie.
She felt Maddie's hand tighten around her shoulder while Maddie placed her other hand down on her hip and glared at the three girls in front of them. She looked them up and down with narrowed eyes and huffed as if she thought they were nothing much to look at. She did not look impressed.
"And just what experience do you have to be talking to (Y/n) like that?"
When none of them answered, Maddie gave them another look up at down before she turned (Y/n) in the other direction to guide her away from those girls, whoever they were.
But two feet away, a sudden thought came over Maddie and she leaned over near (Y/n)'s ear. "Are they from your class? The girls Buck talked about?"
She'd almost forgotten the fact that Evan had told her (Y/n) was a bit anxious going to classes. She remembered he said some girls in class found out about (Y/n)'s private life and were teasing her because of it. Maddie couldn't believe they were in college and acting like they were little school girls who thought it was okay to pick on someone just because she was choosing to life her life the way she wanted.
"It doesn't matter. We just need something for the baby and a gift bag." Reaching behind her, (Y/n) gave Maddie's wrist a squeeze.
She felt better already now that Maddie was back with her. She felt confident having her sister with her. The snotty girls wouldn't dare say anything to her or torment her when she was with family. If Evan was here they wouldn't have approached (Y/n) at all.
But (Y/n) spun round when she felt Maddie let go of her and her heart lurched up into her throat when Maddie walked back towards the three of them.
"Excuse me."
Maddie placed her hands on her hips and began to tap her foot against the floor until all three of them turned to face her. She was older than them. She and (Y/n) were the mature people here and Maddie wasn't going to let them get away with this. If they wanted to be children, Maddie would scold and treat them like little girls.
"You do realise that to be a nurse, you can't be judgemental? I pray for the teenage mother who goes to the hospital and gets you as her nurse, passing judgements left right and centre. You won't make it very far with so little wit and understanding. Grow up."
With that being said, Maddie turned on her heels, her hair whipping over her shoulder, and walked back over to (Y/n). She linked their arms together and guided them both towards the other baby section. They were here to look for things for Maddie's niece and she was going to be proud of that.
Leaning her head on Maddie's shoulder, (Y/n) gave her arm a squeeze and cuddled into her side. "Thank you."
***
Opening her eyes, (Y/n) tried to clear her blurry vision. Her cheek nuzzled into the pillow and she strained her ears to listen to the noises she could hear.
The front door being locked. Loud, thudding footsteps going into the bathroomand then retreating a few moments later.
Evan was home.
(Y/n) found herself grinning into her pillow and her arms wrapped around Evan's pillow that she had been hugging for the last few hours. She wasn't sure what movie was playing on the tv, she had been drifting in and out of sleep for the last two hours but (Y/n) didn't want to lay and go to sleep yet. Not when she knew Evan would be home at some point late into the night. She didn't like sleeping without him.
She could hear Evan mulling about downstairs before she heard him jogging up the stairs. His height and stocky build made Evan heavy-footed and easy to hear when he was milling about the apartment.
She moved her hand to rub her eyes and lifted her head to look for Evan.
He moved faster than (Y/n) anticipated.
A gasp bubbled past her lips and she grinned when Evan practically ran to the bed and climbed on top of her. He crawled up the end of the bed so fast (Y/n) didn't see him move and he flopped down on top of her, hovering with his nose just barely touching her own.
"Hi," (Y/n) laughed and reached up to cup Evan's face while she felt his hands slipping around her frame.
She wriggled around beneath him, huffing as she turned to lay on her back instead of her side so she could look up at him. And Evan settled himself between her legs, pushing his hips down into hers like he was trying to imprint her into the mattress.
"Hi baby. How'd it go, you and bubba okay?" Evan leaned up a little so he could look down at (Y/n)'s stomach before his eyes went back up to hers.
He could see the tiredness washed across her face and how hard it was for her to keep her eyes open, but she was livening up now that he was home. He had been bouncing off the walls all shift today. Evan just wanted to get home so he could know how the scan went and know what they were having.
He'd messaged (Y/n) mid-afternoon and he tried to get her to ring him so he could find out how it went. All he got told was he'd have to wait until he came home for 'his surprise'.
"It went well, bubba's fine and healthy."
(Y/n) groaned and dug her fingers into Evan's neck when he kissed her so deeply he was pushing her back into the pillow.
She wriggled around, squirming and trying not to giggle against his lips when he tugged the cover down and wedged his hand between them so he could try and find her stomach. His fingers danced across her stomach and started making aimless patterns while he stole every ounce of air from (Y/n)'s lungs until she was seeing stars.' "So… can I find out the surprise now?" Evan spoke breathlessly against her lips, stealing another kiss and swiping his tongue across her top lip. He nudged their noses together and looked down at (Y/n) eagerly like a child waiting for Christmas.
He watched (Y/n) flop her arms down beside her on the bed and she tilted her head to the side to glance at the bedside alarm clock.
"Babe, it's nearly midnight… you can't wait until morning?" (Y/n) reached out to card her fingers through Evan's hair and started to untangle his curls. She smiled when he leaned into the touch and a deep groan passed his lips when she gave a small tug on his hair.
"Baby," He whined, tilting his head back while those puppy-dog eyes worked magic on melting (Y/n)'s heart and turning her stomach to mush. "I've waited all day, and Maddie knows, she's been messaging me all day. Please? I wanna know."
"Okay."
She had made him wait all day and she had no idea Maddie had been messaging Evan, clearly trying to wind her brother up because she knew before him. And Evan was wound up tight and hyped up like a kid on sugar. He wasn't going to be able to sleep for a while yet and he was desperate to find out.
Tilting his chin up, (Y/n) kissed him and sucked on his lower lip before she gave him a nudge and slowly sat up with him.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and heaved herself up to her feet, feeling like she could sleep standing up. Her back clicked into place and shivers rolled down her arms but she grinned when Evan's hands found her hips.
He groaned something incoherent against her neck and squeezed her hips as he climbed off the bed behind her. And (Y/n) realised he must have said something referring to what she was wearing. She had a pair of his loungewear shorts and cotton shirts on, both of which hung off her frame and showed off her stomach.
Evan glued his chest up against (Y/n)'s back and pressed his lips down against the top of her head. He followed her lead as she headed over to the stairs and guided him down, turning the lights back on as they walked.
(Y/n) dragged her hand through her hair, brushing a few locks out of her eyes as she led Evan through into the living room and over to the sofa.
She flopped down on the sofa and curled her legs up beneath her, sinking back into the cushions while she pointed at the sparkling silver gift bag on the coffee table. It was quite lucky that Evan had gone straight upstairs when he came home. If he had come into the living room first and saw the bag, (Y/n) knew he would have ended up opening the gift without her because he was so excited.
Evan excitedly perched down on the end of the sofa and motioned to the bag with such a wide grin he could barely see. "Can I?"
He rolled his lips together and reached out for the bag, pausing for a moment when (Y/n) shuffled over and leaned up on her knees. She wrapped her arms loosely around his neck and kissed the back of his head, leaning against his back so she could look over his shoulder.
His hands were trembling from excitement as he opened the bag and took a peek inside, reaching in to take out the first item he saw.
It was a knitted blanket. The material was soft and stretchy and felt like it had been made with cotton rather than with knitting wool. The colour was blushing pink. It had a dark red velvet ribbon sewn around the edging and in each corner there were crocheted roses, mostly red but two were dark fuchsia.
Folding the blanket carefully, he placed it down on the coffee table beside the bag, unable to refrain from smiling as he looked back in the bag.
Purple boots. So small they barely fit in the palm of Evan's hand, with little bows tied neatly on the front.
The next item made him laugh. (Y/n) tucked her face into his neck and kissed the junction beneath his jaw, feeling the way his throat vibrated as he laughed and held up the shirt to read it. A jet black shirt with roses and flowers, some of which looked similar to the tattoos Evan had on his chest and up his arms. And right in the centre, it said 'Girl Dad' in bright cursive letters.
He looked back into the bag and took out the last item laid at the bottom. A pale silver onesie with a crown in the centre and the words 'Daddy's Princess' written across the middle.
(Y/n) sucked in a deep breath when Evan twisted round so he was facing her. His hands moved down to cup the back of her thighs and he pulled her over until she was sat on his lap with her arms curved around the back of his neck.
She could see tears in his eyes and shivers ran up and down her nerves when Evan moved his hands up and as quick as anything, he pulled her shirt off. He tossed it somewhere across the other side of the room so there was nothing in the way of her stomach.
"We're having a girl? I'm gonna have a daughter?"
All the energy Evan had seemed to push through into his voice and leave his body oddly calm. He waited for (Y/n) to nod and he grinned against her when she kissed his lips.
He couldn't wait to tell everyone. He could go back to the station and tell them all that he was having a baby girl. He was going to have a daughter. He could tell Bobby he was going to have a granddaughter, since Evan thought of Bobby and Athena as his parents. He could see Eddie and Chris tomorrow and tell them he was having a girl, that Eddie would have a niece since Evan was Uncle Buck to Chris and he wanted Eddie to be a godparent to his daughter.
If someone on a call asked Evan if he had children, he could proudly tell that that he had a daughter. At the end of each shift, he was going to have two girls to go home to.
Pulling back, Evan wormed his arms back around her waist, pressing his palms flush against her skin while he leaned down until his lips and nose pressed against the top of her bump.
"Hi baby girl."
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Subtext and Culture, Young Royals, Season 3, Episode 6
Out here in the real world it's been a week since the cliffhanger ending of episode 5 where Simon broke up with Wilhelm, but in-universe it's just the next day, and Wilhelm is being comforted by Felice.
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Subtext: This entire episode is incredibly meta, there are so many times characters say things that reference earlier seasons or episodes, or the entire series as a whole. This is the first time, and Felice is saying what we're all thinking. IS IT REALLY OVER?!? 😱
Blink and you miss it: Felice gives Wilhelm her sunglasses and dries his tears so he can hide the fact that he's been crying. Also, look at that gorgeous Swedish summer. It is so pretty.
Culture: The third-years are painting the banners that go on the trucks on graduation day.
Culture: They're also signing each others' student hats, which is a common tradition. You can just sign your name or write something funny or do whatever.
Culture: This car is what we in Sweden call a sossecontainer. It's an old 90's Volvo, it's square, it's ugly, and it was pretty cheap and reliable, so it was very common and popular among working class and the lower middle classes. It was never a high-status car, so it perfectly illustrates the Eriksson family.
Subtext: Oh look, another throwback to season 1 when Sara argued with Simon about their dad, and said that he should stop giving people second chances.
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Culture: Oh look, another poem by Karin Boye. This time it's Eternity, a poem about cherishing your time with your loved one, and the text is about how good times feel like an endless summer, which is what it certainly looks like for the kids and their teacher in the lush landscape. But just like in the poem, their endless summer is about to end.
Culture: This is pretty much exactly the reason used when real-world Lundsberg was temporarily closed.
Culture: And Wilhelm isn't wrong, the shitty traditions are in the walls of the place, it's always been like that, and it's always been upheld by everyone involved with the school, parents, teachers, staff, and students.
Subtext: Since this is the last episode, let's prepare the viewers to say good bye to the show, and let's do it with a little montage of students crying and taking their stuff down and emptying their rooms.
Culture: This is a 100% factually true statement, Göteborg is the worst city in the world. Source: I'm a native Stockholmer, and you just have to trust me on this, ok? Look, it's just common sense, alright? Don't listen to people from Göteborg, they're just jealous they're not living in the glorious capital. Also, they talk funny. And they have no sense of humour! And everyone is named Glenn or something.
Culture: I don't think they're referencing an actual school here, and the current Norwegian royal children went to school in Norway, not Switzerland. But the current Danish crown prince went to some boarding school in Switzerland for a while, but then he went to the Danish elite boarding school Herlufsholm. However, it was rocked by a bullying scandal in 2022, so they had to pull him out of that one and deny all knowledge of the events. Feels familiar?
Culture: Solliden is the private summer palace of the real-world Swedish royal family located on Öland, an island off the south-east coast of Sweden. The show has consistently stayed away from every likeness with the real world, but I guess they couldn't be arsed making up a fictional summer palace for the YR royal family so they went with something familiar.
Subtext: Farima is talking about the problems of finding a new school for Wilhelm from an academic perspective, but he's just thinking about how this means he won't be close to Simon any longer.
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Culture: Vincent and the boys are pouring one out for Hillerska. It's a way to toast a dead friend, or in this case, a place.
Blink and you miss it: August places a king chess piece on the table before telling his friends that he's Wilhelm's reserve and might be king someday.
Subtext: And he's still so blinded by the glamour of it, despite everything. Thankfully, his friends can bring him down a couple of pegs.
Blink and you miss it: While Wilhelm is returning Kris, the book from last season, the second book in the pile is a book by Kjell Westö, Den Svavelgula Himlen - Yellow Sulphur Sky. It's about a working class kid in Finland becoming friends with his upper-class neighbour family, and his struggle maintaining a relationship with the girl of the family because of their class differences. Slightly on the nose there, show.
Meta: Henry interrupting our boys at the worst possible time is just a running joke at this point. How many times has it happened now? Four times? Five? Read the fucking room, Henry!
Subtext: Last chance to have a party together, but also last chance to see Simon, "maybe ever". Oh no, we have to start preparing for a sad ending!
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Culture: Red solo cups are not a thing anywhere outside the US really, but you can buy them as a gag gift in Sweden, because to us they're just a weird movie prop we've seen American movies. Every other party scene in the show has featured regular plastic cups.
Culture: Drinking with the teachers?!? Yeah, sure, why not, everyone is an adult.
Subtext: Emo outfit? ✅ Sitting on the floor? ✅ Full of self-pity? ✅ Exaggerating the catastrophic state of his world in the way only a 17yo disaster boy can do? ✅
Meta: Another throwback to how Wilhelm was referred to as the party prince back in season 1.
Blink and you miss it: Felice hides the wine bottle behind her back before Malin comes in. She knows, Felice. Malin knows everything.
Meta: Another throwback to when Wilhelm was eating the dirt at the very same football field that disaster emo boy Simon is now sitting at together with his friends, who are trying to convince him to go to the final party.
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Subtext: This time, August isn't just sorry that he got caught, he is genuinely sorry for everything he did to Wilhelm. He in turn forgives August, and we're all getting closure for this plot point.
Meta: Hey, hey, hey guys, do you remember that scene in season 1 episode 1 when Sara helped hold Felice's hair while she was throwing up? We're doing a throwback here!
Meta: Hey, hey, hey guys, do you remember that scene in season 1 episode 3 when Felice told Sara that maybe you don't have to speak the truth all the time? Well, Sara still doesn't understand why you would lie, but this time she's right, Felice was right to tell the truth.
Blink and you miss it: Stella and Fredrika are making out at the party, Felice saw it, and is making a very funny face. This is also why Stella rudely rejects Rosh, because of course she's gonna choose Fredrika, Rosh was just a distraction to make her jealous.
Subtext: Vincent is talking about Nils, who just came out, but August just saw Sara, and that's the whoever he wants.
Subtext: But despite saying that he doesn't care about anyone else seeing them, he still ducked behind a stack of pallets for this conversation.
Meta: This is a brutal Fleabag reference.
Cinematography: This scene is overwhelmingly lit in that sickly greenish fluorescent hue, but there's golden light coming from somewhere, so Sara and August share one final kiss in that golden light. But there's not enough of it to go around, not enough for their love to last, so August is left standing there alone, and all the golden light is gone.
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Cinematography: Wilhelm and Simon left the party sometime after midnight, this is supposed to be a very early morning summer sunrise, and our boys are just gonna be bathed in the golden light throughout the entire scene. Gods, it is pretty.
Meta: Hey, hey, remember that scene in season 1 when Simon was singing that song, and Wilhelm instantly fell for him?
Meta: Hey guys, remember that scene in season 1 when they were discussing welfare politics in class and Simon threw shade on Wilhelm? This is a throwback to that.
Cinematography: Just fucking look at this shit. What a nice view. The nature and the sunrise is pretty, too! Going naked into the water? Yeah, that's a rebirth metaphor as well. Lisa said so!
Subtext: This entire scene is basically Wilhelm trying one last time to get Simon back. They said they weren't gonna, but he's trying anyway. They're talking about that politics class where Wilhelm couldn't speak up because he was "not allowed". So he's still bound by his royal duties, which is why Simon broke up with him last episode.
Subtext: And since Wilhelm is still stuck, he's left on dry land, while Simon swims away from him, free. Guys, I'm thinking we're actually gonna get a sad ending! This does not look good! 😭
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Blink and you miss it: Stella and Fredrika are sleeping in the same bed and making out the morning after, and millions of #Stedrika shippers are rejoicing! Yay, fanservice!
Blink and you miss it: Walter is helping Henry up after he passed out in the grass outside after the party, and millions of #Walty shippers are rejoicing! Yay, fanservice!
Subtext: The last photo Wilhelm takes down from his wall is the one with him and Simon, because that's the most important memory of this place.
Blink and you miss it: Wilhelm shuts off his red lightstrip in his room. Those lights have typically been a symbol of his love for Simon, but he's turning it off. Sad ending confirmed.
Meta: Listen, it's a lovely little song that Simon wrote for Wilhelm, but it's 100% fanservice, it's referencing events in the show that Simon actually didn't witness, and it's even referencing the soundtrack to the show itself! I mean, come on! And we're getting yet another sad boy Wilhelm montage of him moping around Hillerska with his earbuds.
Subtext: Remember how the frog snowglobe was a gift from Erik, who in turn got it from their grandpa, the king? It's so obviously a symbol of the monarchy, but Wilhelm is dumping it in the trash. Are we... Are we not getting a sad ending?
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Cinematography: The shot of the flag being raised is cut off at half mast, which is a pretty universal symbol for mourning. Oh ok, we're back on track for a sad ending.
Subtext: This is the first time this season that Simon speaks Spanish with his mom, and the first time in the entire series that Sara does, which shows that they're fully themselves again, they've pulled themselves out of the Hillerska world.
Culture: The graduating students are having a champagne breakfast before the graduation ceremony, that's also very common in Sweden.
Subtext: Felice and the rest of the choir decided to have a little rebellion and not sing the boring old Hillerska song, and instead the new improved one that Simon made last season. No-one told him about the switch though, which is why he's so surprised.
Culture: After the ceremony, the graduating students will run out of the school to find their parents and family and friends, who are waiting for them, usually with a big sign with the most embarrassing baby picture they could find of them.
Blink and you miss it: August's mom and stepdad have also made a huge sign with an embarrassing picture of August Malte as a kid. Adorable.
Lost in translation: The queen is saying "lilla gubben", which literally means "little old man", a very common term of endearment in Swedish families. The show has been pretty consistent in that Wilhelm's family are all using normal words, just like any other family would. So it's pretty funny that despite everyone else using titles and styles all the time, to Wilhelm, his parents are simply "mamma" and "pappa", as if he was a regular kid.
Subtext: As a graduating student you get little gifts from your family, flowers, champagne, stuffed animals, all with a blue-and-yellow ribbon so you can hang them around your neck. August is family, so the Queen gives him one as well. Of a frog with a crown. Which is a symbol of the monarchy in the show. Wilhelm threw his frog in the trash, August is getting a frog from the Queen. I think there might be symbolism here! I think we're setting up August to become the next king! Do we dare hope for a happy ending?
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Cinematography: Just fucking look at this shit. The composition, the contrast, the height difference, the distance between them. It's so pretty. And they're talking about how good it was while it lasted, just like how a TV show with a sad ending can still be an amazing experience. Hint hint.
Subtext: We're saying our goodbyes, Wilhelm and Simon are saying goodbye to each other, Wilhelm wishes Simon a nice summer, just like how Simon wished Wilhelm a good Christmas back in season 1, and just like back then, they both understand that they love each other, but can't be together.
Cinematography: And then Simon exits the scene, again, leaving Wilhelm standing there alone, again, having seemingly chosen his family and royal duty.
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Culture: It's common to either rent a truck as a large group of students, or to be driven in a flashy car alone or with a friend. The two girls in the centre are sitting in a very nice Aston Martin, while a bunch of their classmates are on a truck. I can't make out the full text on the banner, but I think it says something like "Lock up your sons because tonight we become like animals".
Culture: Svensson is a very common Swedish last name, so to "be a Svensson" basically means that you're super average and mediocre, you're like everyone else. Whereas these elite kids are used to having everyone else bow and scrape for them, so that message is on brand.
Cinematography: We're in the car, it looks like the ending of season 1, and we're doing a close-up of Wilhelm's face. We're ready for the fourth-wall-break of him staring sadly into the camera, having been once again broken down by the system and not getting the boy. We've said goodbye to everyone, roll the credits, start your crying...
Cinematography: ...except the show isn't ending here. We're having an honest conversation between Wilhelm and his parents for the first time. Because every other time he's said that he doesn't want to be crown prince of the next king, he's been angry or upset, he's been threatening, and definitely impulsive. But he's never wanted any of it.
Cinematography: His parents let him go, they open the door to their van, Wilhelm exits, and the show turns up the volume of the soundtrack. "Energetic music" my ass, it's the Harmony theme! It's the main theme of the entire show playing as Wilhelm runs away.
Subtext: Oh, yeah, August sees him run away, and understands that he's next in line now. Sorry buddy, sucks to be you, but never mind that now. RUN, WILHELM, RUN!!! GET YOUR MAN!
Cinematography: The shows turns into the most perfect rom-com, with Wilhelm chasing down Simon's car through the incredibly lush and green Swedish summer. He catches up to them, tells Simon that he ditched the crown for his own sake, and asks if it's really over between them.
VAD FAN TROR DU?
As if the soundtrack wasn't triumphant enough, it now starts playing As Long As you Are Here as they throw themselves in each other's arms. Happy ending! They're crying, I'm crying, we're all crying! 😭
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Cinematography: A montage? With all the best scenes between our boys from the entire show? With the text of the soundtrack perfectly matching the montage? I should be outraged at how cheesy this is, but it is perfect. Perfect. I love it. I swear, this fucking show.
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Subtext: Finally we are at the true ending of the show. Wilhelm has managed to escape Hillerska, him and Simon and Sara and Felice have all escaped the hierarchies, the expectations, the duties, and the toxic environment of the school. He arrived in a Ferrari, and is now running away with his boyfriend and friends in a crappy Volvo station-wagon. The stiff suit jackets are gone, they're all in white, his hair is ruffled in the wind, and for the last time ever Wilhelm looks into the camera. And he smiles.
He is finally free.
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lesbianphan · 1 day
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I know this is gonna be mushy and overly emotional and I'm sorry for oversharing a bit, but I feel like it's necessary to put into words what rewatching We're All Doomed means to me personally. I watched the kiswe premiere event live and it was one of the most fun nights I've had in a while, even though my life felt extremely hopeless at the time.
And, look, here's the thing: when the WAD premiere dropped, I had completely given up on improving things. In fact, I was very much in the 'doomed' mentality. I had long accepted that there was no way my life would get better. So Dan's message really resonated with me: it's easy to settle for being at rock bottom and thinking that's all there is for me. I was happy to see Dan doing better, but deep down I didn't truly believe his words either, not really. I did want to, but I wasn't quite there. And I don't believe them all the time, as he himself said he doesn't, and doing the show many times hammers the point home into his head.
After experiencing it, I thought maybe, just maybe, I could stop only embracing the void, but start having the courage to exist as well. Putting myself out there more, trying to make a world for myself in which I'm not the :/ emoji all the time. So I applied for the jobs, I wrote what I wanted, I unapologetically embraced the nerdy things and the fandoms I enjoyed. I decided I can choose happiness in the smallest of ways, even when it sounds silly and unimportant. Because it isn't unimportant really if it means something to me.
Rewatching the show last night showed me how much it changed my life and the big leaps it helped me take in life. I have so much more to learn, but I keep telling myself to be brave (lmao sorry had to sneak the Phil reference) and have the courage to exist. Really truly exist out in the world, not hidden inside my room. And sure, some days are harder than the others, some days I really don't like myself at all. Even in those days, though, I tell myself: all I have to do is have the courage to exist.
I went in to watch WAD with no expectations, and I feel like the message of appreciating the little moments was so monumental, it truly absolutely had a huge impact in my own life. I have a job now, and some financial stability. To be honest, I never thought I'd get this job, I might not even have applied if I wasn't in this mindset. In so many ways, Dan and Phil have profoundly changed my life, and I think WAD is just one of those big examples.
I doubt the real humans Dan and Phil will ever understand the impact they've had on this world, but I'll forever wish them the best. I'll always support them, because their creations have irrevocably changed me as a person, and as much as I like joking around and stuff, I'm just thankful that we share this existence, and we get to have fun and be forever changed by it.
Thanks @danielhowell, you'll never know how huge the impact of this show was, but I am truly crying writing this and I hope one day I get to tell you in person how much you inspired me to keep going when no one else would.
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nixnephili · 3 days
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Psychological Notes - Nikolai Gogol - BSD
These are some simple notes on his psychology
I've done a little analysis on Fyodor in the past. Which you can read here:
Some S4 SPOILERS (nothing huge, tho)
HPD - Histrionic Personality Disorder.
I think anyone who is familiar with HPD can identify Nikolai with it immediately. On a more broad spectrum, he's a near embodiment of HPD.
Histrionic Personality Disorder main Symptoms:
- the constant need for attention/ attention seeking behavior (ex: mannerisms that seek attention, clothing that seeks attention, a specific way of speaking that seeks attention)
- being uncomfortable /physically uncomfortable in situations in which the individual is not the center of attention
- being overly provocative/ seductive
-displaying emotions that seem to be shallow and change rapidly/ do not remain consistent
- speaking vaguely, lacking detail
- being easily influenced by others or circumstances
Considering relationships to be much more intimate than they actually are
On that last point, it brings special attention to Nikolai and his behaviors in S4
His 'friendship' with Fyodor might very well exist only in his head. Fyodor allows him to entertain the delusion to keep him under some flimsy emotional obligation Nikolai sets up for himself. Though, as we've seen, he matches the symptoms as far as shallow and inconsistent emotions go. In one scene, he rejoices over reuniting with Fyodor, and the other, he sends him off to a very possible death.
Nikolai is very eccentric. Going out of his way for flare and drama. Although, on par with HPD, whenever his attention seeking behavior is ignored or doesn't receive the reaction he needed or expected, he either can become distressed or escalate his antics greatly.
//////////
A scene that's very memorable and relevant for Nikolai is his: "I'm completely sane" scene.
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I doubt that I need to come in here and tell you that this is very unlikely to be true.
To break this down... there is the notion of "sane or Insane Homicide". That refers to circumstantial points. Sane homicide would imply an act of self-defense or perhaps an accident. The person who committed the homicide was a victim of circumstance or negligence. They had no choice, where survival came first, and they needed to protect themselves or others against another human being that was threatening the individual's life. This presents a completely sane person commuting homicide out of need for survival or prevention of harm to oneself or others.
Insane Homicide would go down the path of a crime committed more out of a 'want' than a 'need'.
Nikolai is not physically forced or obligated to commit the murders and atrocities he is responsible for. He isn't trapped or manipulated (as he hates brainwashing by default i doubt he'd allow himself to be a part of it).
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Though if I were to assume, Nikolai could be experiencing a compulsion. This refers to an action that the brain feels a pressing NEED to do. If not, Nikolai may feel uncomfortable or feel physically unwell. Compulsions are most often the results of the brain's desire to cure an obsession.
If you are obsessed with germs or cleanliness, you may feel the compulsive need to wash your hands very often. The obsession causes you to be anxious and overthink -> so your brain tries to resolve that obsession every time it occurs, through that compulsion to wash up.
Nikolai is obsessed with freedom. Complete and utter freedom from the world, society, feelings, and existence. To be truly free. His brain could be trying to resolve this obsession by compulsively 'freeing' people (murdering them) from feelings and, therefore, existence. Nikolai temporarily resolves his obsession with freedom by compulsively freeing those around him. If that obsession in his mind isn't resolved, he can not function. The brain needs and wants to function, so it resolves it repeatedly. Because what resolved it once will resolve it every time. And if the obsession can't be resolved, Nikolai grows uneasy and uncomfortable.
Much like a person who can not control their own mind and life, and compulsively chooses to control other's.
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illdowhatiwantthanks · 21 hours
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The Peapod (The Surprise, Part 6)
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Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: pregnancy times, established relationship, fluff on fluff on fluff, some fairly innocent references to breasts, the most wholesome BAU content, platonic love/found family 4ever Word Count: 1.7k
Summary: You and Emily are finally ready to tell the BAU your good news, so you invite everyone over for a dinner party. Celebrations ensue.
A Note on Timeline: In my head and in this fic, we're forever stuck in the Elite Team era of the BAU (Unit Chief Hotch, Morgan, Rossi, Garcia, JJ, Reid, Emily).
Week 13: The Peapod
“What did you say this was called?” Rossi asked you, dipping a hunk of cornbread into his stew.
Light music played from the record player in the corner, and the sounds of people enjoying good food and good company surrounded you. You and Emily had invited the whole team over for dinner. Emily was dying to tell them about the baby, but she’d wanted you to be there, too. This was, you knew, Emily’s version of sharing the news with her family, especially since her mom hadn’t been very enthusiastic. The BAU was her family, and you were her family, and she loved when her two worlds collided.
“Brunswick stew,” you answered, putting a few pieces of ice in Jack’s and Henry’s bowls as you ladled so that it wouldn’t be too hot.
“Thank you much.” Will nodded at you, grinning. “Been a while since I had Brunswick stew.”
“Us southerners gotta stick together up here, right?” You placed little slices of cornbread at the corner of their bowls. “You and JJ and Henry should come over for brunch sometime. I’ll make you biscuits and gravy.”
“We’d love that,” he said warmly, settling Henry in his seat before taking his own.
“You know, Brunswick stew may have originated in either Brunswick County, Virginia, or Brunswick, Georgia, but nobody knows which one.”
You shook your head. Of course Spencer knew the origins of Brunswick stew.
He kept going, tearing bits of cornbread and sprinkling them on top of his bowl. “Originally the stew would have been made with squirrel, rabbit, or possum meat. It cooks so long that it was ideal for tenderizing wild game.”
The room went silent. You passed behind Spencer carrying your own bowl and patted him on the shoulder.
“No squirrels here, though,” you assured them. “Just pulled pork from Hill Country.”
You settled in your seat next to Emily, Derek on your other side, and looked around for a moment, smiling. You were so thankful for these people. Thankful that they took care of each other so well, that they took care of Emily so well. They did such difficult work, but they got through it together. They really were like family. Overlapping conversations washed over you, and you were content to just listen for a while.
After dinner, everyone sprawled across the apartment, conversing happily. You were standing and talking to Penelope about the new Zelda game when Emily came over and took your hand. It was time. She grinned at you, and there were no nerves, only excitement. You gave her the slightest of nods, and she tapped her wine glass.
The conversation trickled to a stop as everyone looked to Emily.
“So we actually have some news,” she started, looking at you and squeezing your hand. “Y/N and I are, uh… we’re having a baby.”
Jaws dropped and huge smiles broke out.
“What!?” Penelope squealed excitedly, wrapping both of you in a bear hug. She was echoed by the whole team’s congratulations, happy calls of “Wow!” and “Congrats!” and general sounds of happiness, even a few scattered claps.
“Which one of you’s carrying?” Rossi asked.
Spencer answered before you could. “It’s Y/N. You can tell because she’s gained weight around the face and also because her breasts are significantly bigger to prepare for breastfeeding.”
“Spence!” JJ exclaimed, smacking his arm. A happy roar of laughter broke out, and you blushed beet red.
“Reid, can we not talk about my wife’s boobs, please?” Emily chastised, but you could tell she was overjoyed. This was the reaction Emily deserved from her family. You were so glad she was finally getting it.
Hugs were given all around and happy mumblings took over the room as you and Emily were swarmed for conversations and congratulations.
Rossi put his arm around your shoulder and squeezed. “I’m happy for you kids,” he said, placing a quick kiss on your cheek.
“Thanks, Dave,” you said, smiling at him.
Penelope swallowed you up in another hug. “I am so excited!” she gushed. “You and Emily are gonna be the best, most kickass moms, and we’ll have another little BAU baby! Have you all been clothes shopping yet!? Can I come!? Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?!”
You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Well, Emily’s pretty sure it’s a boy, but that’s based purely on her ‘profile,’ so it’s still up in the air.”
“Ugh, profilers, am I right?” Penelope groaned, commiserating with you.
JJ and Will came over to offer their congratulations, too, hugging you tightly.
“It’s the greatest gift,” Will told you. “There’s nothing like it in the world.”
“How far along are you?” JJ asked.
“Thirteen weeks.”
“Second trimester,” she observed, nodding.
“Yeah, thank god,” you said, chuckling. “Morning sickness kicked my ass.”
JJ laughed, then shuddered. “Oh, I remember. Is Emily taking good care of you?”
You couldn’t help but smile. “The best. She’s amazing. I couldn’t do it without her.”
“Well, I’ll try to keep her home as much as I can,” JJ told you with a wink.
“Thanks, JJ.” You squeezed her hand.
“And, you know, if you need anything, we’re here,” she added. “Even if it’s just to call and talk about the shitty parts of being pregnant.”
You groaned, but smiled. “Please. And thank you. Emily’s here and she’s great, but…”
“It’s different when it’s your body.”
“Yeah. It is.”
Reid came to stand awkwardly between you and JJ. You were all silent for a moment before Spencer blurted, “I’m sorry I talked about your breasts.”
You and JJ burst out laughing.
“It’s okay, Spencer,” you assured him, patting his back.
“I’m really happy for you both,” he said, so straightforward, so awkward and sincere. You loved that about him.
You noticed Hotch standing off to the side, waiting his turn to speak with you, and excused yourself to join him.
“Congratulations, Y/N,” he said, smiling softly, wrapping you in a quick hug. Hugs were rare for Hotch, and you felt honored to be a recipient.
“Thank you,” you said, and you really meant it. You stood in comfortable silence for a few minutes, watching the team gather around Emily, smiling and laughing. You beamed at her. She looked so happy. You loved seeing her happy. You loved seeing her loved as deeply and as well as her team loved her.
“I hope you know,” Hotch ventured, his voice serious. “That I do everything I can to make sure she comes back home to you safely.”
“I know,” you said, taking his hand and squeezing it. “Thank you, Hotch.”
The last to approach you was Derek, and he had already known. Emily had told him just a few days earlier, swearing him to secrecy until the dinner party.
He smirked at you, pulling you into him for a hug. You wrapped your arms around him and squeezed.
There weren’t any words needed, not with you and Derek. He was Emily’s best friend. He was over for dinner or video games or a movie at least a few times a month. He was like a brother to her. And, therefore, he was like a brother to you, too.
You both watched Emily, who was showing the rest of the team a photo of a peapod to illustrate the baby’s size. Her face was alight, her cheeks tinged pink with joy and probably a little too much wine. God, you loved her.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Prentiss so excited.”
“Me neither.”
Derek looked down at you, smiling. “You know she loves you more than anything, right?”
You nodded, feeling so happy you thought you might cry. “I know.”
“She picked good,” he said, his arm around your shoulder.
“Are you gonna be Uncle Derek?” you asked him. You hadn’t talked about it with Emily, but you were sure she’d be on board.
“Girl, I better be Uncle Derek.”
You laughed and rested your hand over your belly, your heart full. This baby was going to be so, so loved.
Later that night, Emily crawled into bed next to you, flopping onto her back and grinning like an idiot.
“Happy?” you asked, eyes shining as you stared at her.
She exhaled deeply, her tongue pushing at her bottom lip then, so quickly it took your breath away, flipped over and kissed you. It was a happy kiss, a light kiss, a kiss that wasn’t quite a kiss because you both were smiling and laughing so much.
“You make me happy,” she said, her hands gently cupping your face. You pecked her on the lips once more before her nose crinkled up in a smile and she fell to your side, wrapping an arm around your waist and laying her head on your chest.
You held her close and kissed the top of her head, running your fingers through her hair. So soft, like it was running water. It wasn’t often that Emily let you hold her, and it was even less often that she initiated it. So you held her tight, taking advantage of the rare and beautiful moment. Maybe it would become less rare, you thought. Maybe the little peapod was making Emily go soft. She already was, of course, but she had a hard time admitting it, showing it.
“You deserve to be happy,” you told her as she drew lazy circles on your stomach with her fingers. “You deserve people who love you.”
She was quiet for a while, and when she finally replied, her voice was barely above a whisper. “You really think so?”
You kissed her head a few more times for good measure. “I do.”
Emily took your hand and kissed your palm, holding onto it and twisting your wedding ring back and forth. Neither you nor Emily said anything else, and you didn’t need to. Everything unsaid had already been said, time and time again, year after year. All the words of love and dedication and admiration–you’d said them so often that sometimes the silence simply spoke for you. And sometimes you just held each other and let it.
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zhoufeis · 1 day
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What just bothers me simply about the discussion of TTPD being all so great is neither the fact that some reviewers literally ignore some of the very gruesome lyrics this album has to offer nor the fact that the whole album has the same tune and I could not tell apart these tracks even if I wanted to, no. After all, we can always argue that tastes are different... arguably. It's something utterly different that's bothering me.
It's three things entirely different.
1) The fact we pretend 31 break-up tracks, written entirely out of the perspective of victimhood, of some love stories are worth calling "The Tortured Poets Department". Mind you, Swift, I like love songs, I like break-up songs, I like them poetically, I like when they touch me. But writing 31 break-up songs (not entirely, right, more like 25 or so) for one album makes me wonder if there is anything deeper... more touching to write about. You stay on the surface describing relationships (romantic as well as parasocial) in which you come out as a victim. But the self-reflection is missing entirely. And if I learned one thing in language classes it's that it's poetically dull if we only ever stay on the surface. We gotta dig deeper. And I'm not referring to some poetic lines to make a song sound more beautiful. I'm talking about true depth, true self-reflection, something that makes you defenseless. Cause all this woman does is writing songs out of the perspective of defense - and victimhood. Never does she actually draw herself as defenseless or vulnerable, always knowing how to use the right words to make her fans defend her.
2) Which leads me to that other thing that really bothers me. Her PR team was more involved in this album than the persona of Taylor Swift could ever be. Or maybe Taylor Swift is only PR at this point. Maybe there is no actual person behind all of this. Cause if there's one thing that's utterly apparent, it is that this album hinges SOLELY on any media drama she was involved in. Everyone out there trying to decipher which song is about whom - is this storytelling? Is this poetry? If I only care about songs and judge them by who they are about? The beauty of music is that it binds people together, makes people feel heard or seen through the text and voice of another person. What she's doing isn't that. She is not binding people together by selling her songs as something that could happen to anyone, no, all of it is always only about one person's story - her own. She also doesn't create fictional stories to write about, things to further the limits of our imagination and tell a story that doesn't even exist, and never will. She doesn't use imagination, she doesn't try to connect to other people, she's trying only to connect people to HER. Can this album even be judged neutrally if everyone just knows about her relationships and is guessing who the songs are about? Is there one person out there like "I have never seen any of the TS relationship drama and the like, and I only like to review this album lyrically and sonically by the lyrics and tune within"? Because she is SO present in everyday media press, it is impossible to miss her relationship drama. So are we actually still reviewing Swift's album as a standalone media for its sound and lyrics? Or are we actually just reviewing TS's terrible love life which she apparently has no responsibility for? And mind you all - she knows exactly what she's doing. Don't even think for a second she doesn't know that you all are following her every footstep. Don't think she doesn't use it to her advantage. (Aside from that, she has been considered a storyteller for so long, but she seems to have a lack of stories she can come up with if the only ones she writes about are her own...)
3) Which leads to the entire capitalist thinking behind the release of this album. Not only did she publish 19 different versions of this album to be acquired, no, she also literally had millions of fans pre-ordering her (normal-length) album, only to drop an extended version right after its release. Which means that all these fans had to buy yet another album. And don't think she meant this as a surprise for her fans - she did that cause that's how you make money. Cause that's how capitalism works. And she's part of the problem.
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jasntodds · 17 hours
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Summary:
Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader Summary: ❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don't care.❞ It's been a month and a half since Crane's reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that's not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you'll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right? Right? Warnings: Angst, Fluff, smut, mentions of being tortured, mentions of being held captive, mentions of abuse (comic!Canon), violence, mentions of death, various injuries, bruises, blood, hurt/comfort, some anxiety, ptsd, hints of depression, mentions of Batman villains being Batman villains, nightmares, some paranoia, discussions about previous homelessness, drug mentions, gore, a bomb, jason has a bomb in his helmet (comic!canon), I'm changing the timeline to season 4 a little bit because i can lol, possibly character death (lol), murder?, i am a defender of Jason’s white streak of hair in the comics A/N: I am so excited to finally be on the last book lmao I have had so many plots taking over my brain for months just to get here and I am so happy to finally share them lol The title is a reference to Penance by Holding Absence which I always recommend them lol You don’t have to read books 1 & 2 to read this one, but you might want some extra context. If you don’t want to read all of that, you can just ask me and I’ll tell you what you need to know to read this book!! tag list | playlist | full masterlist ↳ status: COMING SOON (May 29, 2024) updates: Wednesdays
Chapters:
Chapter 1 - coming May 29, 2024 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Book 1 Masterlist Book 2 Masterlist
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i know that as a catholic you just have to believe with what the church says but i really dont like the belief of the original sin, i feel like its such a horrible thing to believe about yourself and about other human beings too
There are actually ways of legitimately dissenting from Church teaching from less essential teachings in a way that leaves you in good standing with the Church; I'm not sure if Original Sin is one of those things, though, to be honest.
But, anon, I'm going to offer another perspective here, starting from a quote (perhaps ironically?) from my favorite heretic. One of the things that James Carroll believes is that Original Sin has been given a bad wrap. In Constantine's Sword, he says:
I referred to Augustine’s assertion of the idea that the human condition implies a perennial state of finitude, weakness, and sin, all of which will be overcome, even for the Church, only with the end of time. [...] Augustine is thus regarded as the father of a severe, flesh-hating, sin-obsessed theology, but that dark characterization misses the point of his insight. His honest admission of the universality of human woundedness is a precondition for both self-acceptance and the forgiveness of the other, which for Augustine always involved the operation of God’s grace, God’s gift. Only humans capable of confronting the moral tragedy of existence, matched to God’s offer of repairing grace, are capable of community, and community is the antidote to human woundedness. Augustine sensed that relationship as being at the heart of God, and he saw it as being at the heart of human hope, too. This is a profoundly humane vision.
I wish I had understood the spirit of this quote when I was in high school. I remember learning in my World History class that Islam teaches that all children are born good, and then the world makes them evil. And I remember my teacher asking how that compares with Christianity, and I raised my hand and said that Christianity teaches that all of us are born evil. Because I believed that at the time. And, really, the whole framing of that question was wrong and gave really simplistic representations of what Islam and Christianity teaches, but I don't think we're alone in having internalized that understanding, anon. And that's a shame.
I thin it's important to remember the worldview that the doctrine of Original Sin is actively defending us against; there was an idea, that gets called "Pelagianism" (the poor guy it got named after may not even have believed it), that said that humans were capable of being saved on their own, by their own power. Someone on this site recently asked what people's thoughts on Pelagianism were, so you can read my thoughts here. But to keep it short and sweet, I think Original Sin is an important doctrine because it saves you from the need to be perfect.
There are ways to treat Original Sin that I think are certainly unhealthy, and I think the doctrine can be a source of anxiety and fear. But I also think, very deeply, that Original Sin should be a reason why we treat ourselves and especially our neighbor with kindness and understanding. I can look at myself and say "What I do, I do not understand. For I do not do what I want, but I do what I hate. […] For I do not do the good that I want, but I do the evil I do not want" (Romans 7:15, 19). And I can say that because I know I am ontologically wounded; that all of us have our weaknesses. That while we may still be in the moral wrong for committing a morally wrong action, our wills are compromised in a way that causes us to incline towards the comfortable and the easy rather than the good.
I wish I could go back in time and tell that class that Christianity does not teach that people are born evil. I wish I could go back and tell them that it teaches that we are born in a state of dis-integration, that we are wounded beings yearning for wholeness; alienated beings seeking everlasting belonging; beings lost in darkness, seeking the light. But I can say it now: the doctrine of Original Sin doesn't have to be an occasion to think you're depraved and without value, but it can be an invitation to come to terms with your own woundedness, because doing that (to use the words of Lutheran theologian Nancy Eiesland) "opens a space for the inflowing of grace and acceptance."
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thesublemon · 2 days
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best picture
For the first time in a long time, I watched all of the movies nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars this year. Partly on a whim, partly for a piece I’ve been working on for a while about what is going wrong in contemporary artmarking. I cannot say that the experience made me feel any better or worse about contemporary movies than I already felt, which was pretty bad. But sometimes to write about a hot stove, you gotta put your hand on one. So. The nominees for coldest stove are:
Poor Things. Did not like enough to finish. I always want to like something that is making an effort at originality, strangeness, or style. Unfortunately, the execution of those things in this movie felt somehow dull and thin. Hard to explain how. Maybe the movie’s motif of things mashed together (baby-woman, duck-dog, etc) is representative. People have been mashing things together since griffins, medleys, Avatar the Last Airbender’s animals, Nickelodeon’s Catdog, etc. Thing + thing is elementary-level weird. And while there’s nothing wrong with a simple, or well-worn premise, there is a greater burden on an artist to do something interesting with it, if they go that route. And Poor Things does not. Its themes are obvious and belabored (the difficulty of self-actualization in a world that violently infantilizes you) and do not elevate the premise. There’s a fine line between the archetypal and the hackish, and this movie falls on the wrong side of it. It made me miss Crimes of the Future (2022), a recent Cronenberg that was authentically original and strange, with the execution to match.
Anatomy of a Fall. Solid, but not stunning. The baseline level of what a ‘good’ movie should be. It was written coherently and economically, despite its length. It told a story that drew you along. I wanted to know what happened, which is the least you can ask from storytelling. It had some compelling scenes that required a command of character and drama to write—particularly the big argument scene. The cinematography was not interesting, but it was not annoying either. It did its job. This was not, however, a transcendent movie.
Oppenheimer. Did not like enough to finish. But later forced myself to, just so no one could accuse me of not knowing what I was talking about when I said I disliked it. I felt like I was being pranked. The Marvel idea of what a prestige biopic should be. Like Poor Things, it telegraphed its artsiness and themes and has raked in accolades for its trouble. But obviousness is not the same as goodness and this movie is not good. The imagery is painfully literal. A character mentions something? Cut to a shot of it! No irony or nuance added by such images—just the artistry of a book report. The dialogue pathologically tells instead of shows. It constantly, cutely references things you might have heard of, the kind of desperate audience fellation you see in soulless franchise movies. Which is a particularly jarring choice given the movie’s subject matter. ‘Why didn’t you get Einstein for the Manhattan project’ Strauss asks, as if he’s saying ‘Why didn’t you get Superman for the Avengers?’ If any of this referentiality was an attempt to say something about mythologization, it failed—badly. The movie is stuffed with famous and talented actors, but it might as well not have been, given how fake every word out of their mouths sounded. Every scene felt like it had been written to sound good in a trailer, rather than to tell a damn story. All climax and no cattle.
Barbie. Did not like enough to finish. It had slightly more solidity in its execution than I was afraid it would have, so I will give it that. If people want this to be their entertainment I will let them have it. But if they want this to be their high cinema I will have to kill myself. Barbie being on this list reminds me of the midcentury decades of annual movie musical nominations for Best Picture. Sometimes deservingly. Other times, less so. The Music Man is great, but it’s not better than 8 1/2  or The Great Escape, neither of which were nominated in 1963. Musicals tend to appeal to more popular emotions, which ticket-buyers and award-givers tend to like, and critics tend to dislike. I remember how much Pauline Kael and Joan Didion hated The Sound of Music (which won in 1966), and have to ask myself if in twenty years I’ll think of my reaction to Barbie the same way that I think of those reviews: justified, but perhaps beside the point of other merits. Thing is. Say what you want about musicals, but that genre was alive back then. It was vital. Bursting with creativity. For all Kael’s bile, even she acknowledged that The Sound of Music was “well done for what it is.” [1] Contemporary cinema lacks such vitality, and Barbie is laden with symptoms of the malaise. It repeatedly falls back on references to past aesthetic successes (2001: A Space Odyssey, Singin’ in the Rain, etc) in order to have aesthetic heft. It has a car commercial in the middle. It’s about a toy from 60 years ago and politics from 10 years ago. It tries to wring some energy and meaning from all of that but not enough to cover the stench of death. I’d prefer an old musical any day.
American Fiction. Was okay. It tried to be clever about politics, but ended up being clomping about politics. At the end of the day, it just wasn’t any more interesting than any other ‘intellectual has a mid-life crisis’ story, even with the ‘twist’ of it being from a black American perspective. Even with it being somewhat self-aware of this. But it could have been a worse mid-life crisis story. The cinematography was terrible. It was shot like a sitcom. Much of the dialogue was sitcom-y too. I liked the soundtrack, what I could hear of it. The attempts at style and meta (the characters coming to life, the multiple endings) felt underdeveloped. Mostly because they were only used a couple times. In all, it felt like a first draft of a potentially more interesting movie. 
The Zone of Interest.Wanted to like it more than I did. Unfortunately, you get the point within about five minutes. If you’ve seen the promotional image of the people in the garden, backgrounded by the walls of Auschwitz, then you’ve already seen the movie. Which means that all the rest of the movie ends up feeling like pretentious excess instead of moving elaboration. It seemed very aware of itself as an Important Movie and rested on those laurels, cinematically speaking, in a frustrating way. It reminded me of video art. I felt like I had stepped through a black velvet drape into the side room of a gallery, wondering at what point the video started over. And video art has its place, but it is a different medium. Moreover video art at its best, like a movie at its best, takes only the time it needs to say what it needs to say. 
Past Lives. I’m a human being, and I respond to romance. I appreciate the pathos of sweet yearning and missed chances. And I understand how the romance in this movie is a synecdoche for ambivalent feelings about many kinds of life choices, particularly the choice to be an immigrant and choose one culture over another. The immigrant experience framing literalizes the way any choice can make one foreign to a past version of oneself, or the people one used to know, even if in another sense one is still the same person. So, I appreciate the emotional core of what (I believe) this movie was going for, and do think it succeeded in some respects. And yet…I was very irritated by most of its artistic choices. I found the three principal characters bland and therefore difficult to care about, sketched with only basic traits besides things like Striving and Being In Love. Why care who they’d be in another life if they have no personalities in this one? It’s fine to make characters symbols instead of humans if the symbolic tapestry of a movie is interesting and rich, but the symbolic tapestry of this movie was quite simple and straightforward. Not that that last sentence even matters much, since the movie clearly wanted you to feel for the characters as human beings, not just symbols. Visually, the cinematography was dull and diffuse, with composition that was either boring or as subtle as a hammer to the head.
Maestro. Did not like enough to finish. Something strange and wrong about this movie. It attempts to perform aesthetic mimicry with impressive precision—age makeup, accents, period cinematography—but this does not make the movie a better movie. At most it creates spectacle, at worst it creates uncanny valleys. It puts one on the lookout for irregularities, instead of allowing one to disappear into whatever the movie is doing. Something amateurishly pretentious in the execution. And not in the fun, respectable way, like a good student film. (My go-to example for a movie that has an art-school vibe in a pleasant way is The Reflecting Skin). There’s something desperate about it instead. It has the same disease as Oppenheimer, of attempting to do a biopic in a ‘stylish’ way without working on the basics first. Fat Man and Little Boy is a less overtly stylish rendition of the same subject as Oppenheimer, but far more cinematically successful to me, because it understands those basics. I would prefer to see the Fat Man and Little Boy of Leonard Bernstein’s life unless a filmmaker proves that they can do something with style beyond mimicry and flash.
The Holdovers. Did not like enough to finish. It tries to be vintage, but outside of a few moments, it does not succeed either at capturing what was good about the aesthetic it references, or at using the aesthetic in some other interesting way. The cinematography apes the tropes of movies and TV from the story’s time period, but doesn't have interesting composition in its own right. It lacks the solidity that comes from original seeing. (Contrast with something like Planet Terror, in which joyous pastiche complements the original elements.) The acting is badly directed. Too much actorliness is permitted. Much fakeness in general between the acting, writing, and visual language. If a movie with this same premise was made in the UK in the 60’s or 70's it would probably be good. As-is the movie just serves to make me sad that the ability to make such movies is apparently lost and can only be hollowly gestured at. That said, the woman who won best supporting actress did a good job. She was the only one who seemed to be actually acting.
Killers of the Flower Moon. The only possible winner. It is not my favorite of Scorsese’s movies, but compared to the rest of the lineup it wins simply by virtue of being a movie at all. How to define ‘being a movie’? Lots of things I could say that Killers of the Flower Moon has and does would also be superficially true of other movies in this cohort. Things like: it tells a story, with developed characters who drive that story. Or: it uses its medium (visuals, sound) to support its story and its themes. The difference comes down to richness, specificity, control, and a je ne sais quois that is beyond me to describe at the moment. Compare the way Killers of the Flower Moon uses a bygone cinematic style (the silent movie) to the way that Maestro and The Holdovers do. Killers of the Flower Moon uses a newsreel in its opening briefly and specifically. The sequence sets the scene historically, and gives you the necessary background with the added panache of confident cuts and music. It’s useful to the story and it’s satisfying to watch. Basics. But the movie doesn’t limit itself to that, because it’s a good movie. The sequence also sets up ideas that will be continuously developed over the course of the movie.* And here’s the kicker—the movie doesn’t linger on this sequence. You get the idea, and it moves on to even more ideas. Also compare this kind of ideating to American Fiction’s. When I said that American Fiction’s moments of style felt underdeveloped, I was thinking of movies like Killers of the Flower Moon, which weave and evolve their stylistic ideas throughout the entire runtime.
*(Visually, it places the Osage within a historical medium that the audience probably does not associate with Native Americans, or the Osage in particular. Which has a couple of different effects. First, it acts as a continuation of the gushing oil from the previous scene. It’s an interruption. A false promise. Seeming belonging and power, but framed all the while by a foreign culture. Meanwhile potentially from the perspective of that culture, it’s an intrusion on ‘their’ medium. And of course, this promise quickly decays into tragedy and death. The energy of the sequence isn’t just for its own sake—it sets up a contrast. But on a second, meta level it establishes the movie’s complicated relationship to media and storytelling. Newsreels, photos, myths, histories, police interviews, and a radio play all occur over the course of the movie. And there’s the movie Killers of the Flower Moon itself. Other people’s frames are contrasted with Mollie’s narration. There’s a repeated tension between communication as a method of knowing others and a method of controlling them—or the narrative of them—which plays out in both history and personal relationships.)
Or here’s another example: When Mollie and Ernest meet and he drives her home for the first time, we see their conversation via the car’s rearview mirrors. This is a bit of cinematic language that has its origins in mystery and paranoia. You see it in things like Hitchcock or The X-Files or film noir. By framing the scene with this convention, the movie turns what is superficially a romantic meet-cute (to quote a friend) into something bubbling with uneasiness and dread. This is not nostalgia—this is just using visuals to create effects. It doesn’t matter if you’ve seen anything that uses the convention before, although knowing the pedigree might add to your enjoyment. The watchfulness suggested by the mirrors and Ernest’s cut-off face will still add an ominous effect. It works for the same reason it works in those other things. Like the newsreel, it is a specific and concise stylistic choice, and it results in a scene that is doing more than just one thing.
In general, the common thread I noticed as I watched these nominees, was the tendency to have the ‘idea’ of theme or style, and then stop there. It’s not that the movies had nothing in them. There were ideas, there was use of the medium, there was meaning to extract. There were lots of individually good moments. But they tended to feel singular, or repetitive, or tacked on. Meanwhile contemporary viewers are apparently so impressed by the mere existence of theme or style, that being able to identify it in a movie is enough to convince many that the movie is also good at those things. The problem with this tendency—in both artists and audiences—is that theme and style are not actually some extra, remarkable, inherently rarifying property of art. Theme emerges naturally from a story with any kind of coherence or perspective. And style emerges naturally from any kind of artistic attitude. They are as native as script, or narrative, or character. A movie’s theme and style might not be interesting, just like its story or dialogue might not be interesting, but if the movie is at all decent, they should exist. What makes a movie good or bad, then, is how it executes its component parts—including theme and style—in service of the whole. When theme is well-executed it is well-developed. Contemporary movies, unfortunately, seem to have confused ‘well-developed’ with ‘screamingly obvious.’ A theme does not become well-developed by repetition. It becomes well-developed by iterationand integration. Theme is like a melody. Simply repeating a single melody over and over does not result in the song becoming more interesting or entertaining. It becomes tedious. However, if you modify the melody each time you play it, or diverge from the melody and then return to it, that can get exciting. It results in different angles on the same idea, such that the idea becomes more complex over time, instead of simply louder.
Oppenheimer wasprobably the worst offender in this regard. Just repeat your water drops, crescendoing noise, or a line about ‘destroying the world’, and that’s the same as nuance, right? Split scenes into color and black and white and that’s the same as structure, right? That’s the same as actually conveying a difference between objectivity and interiority (or another dichotomy) via the drama or visual composition contained in the scenes, right? When I watched many of these movies, I kept thinking of a behind-the-scenes story from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The story goes that Joss Whedon was directing Sarah Michelle Gellar in some scene, and when the take was over he told her how great she was, and that he could see right where the music would come in. And Gellar replied that if he was thinking about the music, he clearly wasn’t getting enough from her acting alone. This conversation then supposedly informed Whedon’s approach to “The Body,” a depiction of the immediate aftermath of death that is considered one of the best episodes of television ever made, and which has no non-diegetic music whatsoever. Not to imply that music is necessarily a crutch, or to pretend that “The Body” is lacking in other forms of stylization (it is a very style-ish episode). But more to illustrate the way that it is easy to forget to make the most of all aspects of a medium, particularly the most fundamental ones, once one has gotten used to what a final product is supposed to feel like. 
And that’s why most of these movies don’t feel like movies. They create the gestalt of a movie or a ‘cinematic’ moment—often literally through direct vintage imitation—without a sense of the first principles. Or demonstrating a sense of them, anyway. Who needs AI when the supposedly highest level of human filmmakers are already cannibalistically cargo-culting the medium just fine.
[1] “The Sound of Money (The Sound of Music and The Singing Nun).” The Pauline Kael Reader. (This book contains the full text of the original review, rather than the abbreviated review that I linked earlier.) 
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vidavalor · 2 days
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Hello! Would you like a chocolate chip cookie? And if you have an opinion on it can you share why you think that Aziraphale never calls Crowley by his first name when it's really romantic? Thank you!
Thank you for the cookie and the ask. *noms* They're both delicious.
Aziraphale explained in 1941 in what situations he'd be willing to deviate from his normal, fond use of "Crowley" and give Crowley's (very romantic-- Aziraphale loved it) first name a go:
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To get used to something is to grow accustomed to it. That's the surface layer of Aziraphale's response to Crowley in 1941 but the innuendo is that he's telling Crowley he's willing to "get used to" Crowley's new first name-- meaning, that Aziraphale is willing to call Crowley "Anthony" in bed.
It's also a bit more romantic a line if you factor in some of the etymology of 'use'/'used' as well as look at how Aziraphale's use of it also connects to wordplay with several other words (brook and bad) and in other scenes in the series (1827 and 2008) as well. More on that under the cut.
Used: from the Latin usus (yes, 2x us-- cute, huh? ) and the Old French us (the French just kinda decided one 'us' was enough to describe what 'us' is, apparently.) It developed from there, predominantly through Old French, into user and the concept of to use. So, long story short, the idea of using something is derived from the concept of 'us' as being a group of more than one person, which adds a bit more of a sense of romance to using the word 'use' in a sexually euphemistic sort of way (at least it does in the context of 'use' being used by two word nerds lol).
To use: original meanings, many of which are still, well, used... to frequent, to practice, to make use of, to enjoy, to apply, to consume. The word replaced the Old English verb brucan in this way. Brucan meant to brook something, which is an old-fashioned way of meaning all of these: to eat with someone; to use; to possess; to endure (to last); to cohabit with; to need; to enjoy.
We heard Aziraphale throw 'brook' into a sentence to Crowley in S2 in 1827, still thinking he had enough time to be flirting with Crowley while discussing the morally right position to take but Crowley felt Wee Morag dying in the process. Maybe not the most cheery example of Ineffable Husbands flirt but it ties linguistically to 'used' and shows a history of Aziraphale using the two words as innuendo:
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Used might seem on the surface to be a slightly vulgar way to refer to sex but its etymology, as we can see here, is more romantic and also ties to the food theme of Crowley and Aziraphale's language as well.
The words-within-words of Ineffable Husbands Speak is the first rule of it-- and also the (pardon the bird pun) cardinal rule of language in the show, in general. This is off of the first shot of the show being the word 'war' being shown to us as within the word 'warning'. The word that lives inside used is us.
Crowley is using (ha, unintentional pun, sorry) us/used as recently as in 2.06, even if Muriel has no idea what it means. Crowley doesn't trust that the Inspector Constable isn't going to report to Heaven what they see in the bookshop once they leave so he is actually speaking aloud an intention to take Aziraphale to boozy breakfast in an effort to hide the fact that he's actually thinks they're in massive trouble and need to work out a plan. Everything he's saying, though, as with a lot of what he says to Muriel in general, is in his and Aziraphale's language, mostly for Crowley's own amusement, so this bit below is as much Ineffable Husbands Speak as "extremely alcoholic breakfast at The Ritz" is:
"When Aziraphale does come back, I think we need a little us time."
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Us Time = Muriel, that's when all house guests need to get gone because Antony and Cleopatra need to use the fuck out of each other...
...but going back to brook for a second?
We looked at brook as a verb, right? What it means to brook? But the common way we use the word brook now is in its other meaning as a noun-- a brook is a stream. It's a body of water and it houses fish. If you've seen any other post I've made about Ineffable Husbands Speak, you've probably seen that we can see that fish and everything nautical/the sea/ships/etc. is rooted in Aziraphale's oysters innuendo in Rome when they started sleeping together. They use references to fish as euphemistic for the sexual experience and, in particular, orgasm. The sea as sexual metaphor isn't exactly new (those "crashing waves" are in many a book lol) but Crowley & Aziraphale have turned basically anything related to the sea into sexual innuendo across several scenes.
If there's a pun to be had, Crowley & Aziraphale have found it, and one of the more amusing ones is a word where fish/the sea crosses into Heaven/Hell-related words-- and that's in damned. To be damned is to have been cast to Hell but within damned is the word dam. A dam is a natural or manmade barrier that exists to stop or redirect the movement of a body of water. As Ineffable Husbands Speak innuendo, being damned would then seem to be at least one of, if not both of the following: to be to be restrained in bed (something which several different scenes suggest Crowley periodically enjoys) and/or a reference to repeatedly stopping prior to an orgasm aka edging (also something which the language in several scenes suggest is an Ineffable Husbands favorite past time.) More than likely, it's probably the two combined.
From here, go to the innuendo that ends the 2008 minisode in 1.01, when Aziraphale says: "Well, I'll be damned" and Crowley replies, with a wink:
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😂😉 Bonus etymology because it adds something to Crowley's above flirt:
Bad: From the Old German baeddel, which meant hermaphroditic, a word that's a bit outdated in our modern use of language but which is of historical relevance to being intersex and is rooted in the Greek god Hermaphroditus-- the intersex child of Hermes and Aphrodite, the goddess of erotic love. (It's Aphrodite who is the root of the word aphrodisiac and who was frequently depicted in art on the shell of a scallop or an oyster.)
Hermaphroditus was one of the Erotes, which were the ancient Greek gods of love and sex. When they're referred to in Roman art and literature, the Erotes are called "Cupids." In the 18th century, a French novelist popularized a rebranding of sort of Asmodeus as a Cupid-like figure and Crowley didn't exactly deny that he's Asmodeus when Aziraphale suggested so in the Golgotha scene. There is also the Cupid statue in the bookshop-- seen in the same scene in S1 where Crowley flirts with Aziraphale by using "bad" and "used." (It's visible in the earlier part of the scene, when Crowley is still drunk and walking around.) The Cupid sculpture is angled so that it is aiming its arrow at Aziraphale's desk. 💘
There is also that, in 'Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings Who Walk the Earth' (the book Furfur has in 1941), Furfur has written a note to remind himself not to trust Crowley because, among other reasons: "his hair is bad!" The joke is that Furfur doesn't know just how true that is (or see the irony because Furfur's hair is also a pompadour of sorts lol.) Crowley's hair is always in a variation on the pompadour-- a hairstyle throughout history, worn by everyone from society ladies to Elvis. Crowley is bad, indeed, and it adds a bit of self-referential-ness to the "it's not so bad when you get used to it" wordplay that suggests Aziraphale's own history with being damned-- even though he's still an angel in 2008. 😉
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harmonysanreads · 1 day
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Trivia - Jeux de Vagues
I suppose this is the somewhat ‘lore’ of the aforementioned fic. I recommend reading the fic first before diving into this as this contains spoilers :> I normally wouldn't do this but per the vote of @verridaiya I was encouraged to regardless. Something to note would be that even though this is what I had in mind while writing, readers' personal interpretations are equally valid!
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“Jeux de Vagues”
I mentioned this in a reblog already but the title comes from the second movement of the symphony “La Mer” by Claude Debussy, a French composer. It literally translates to ‘Play of the waves', quite fitting for a leisurely tea-party with Neuvillette, no? I also highly recommend listening to the piece in general, it might take some patience but if you love daydreaming about watching the sea waves away from your struggles as well, this is the music for you!
“6 to 12 O'clock”
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Before I tell you why I'm showing this particular line, I want you guys to take a guess on what I meant by the 'noon to evening and midnight to dawn' part :>
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One of the rules of afternoon tea etiquette is that when you stir the tea, the appropriate motion to do is a 6 to 12 O'clock (so towards yourself and away from yourself) instead of going in circles. I thought just outright saying it wouldn't be fun so I instead used the four time indicators of 6 and 12 ! But of course, this could also symbolize the duration of Reader “scheming” since the beginning of the marriage.
“Fin de siècle”
Fin de siècle is a French term meaning “end of century,” a phrase which typically encompasses both the meaning of the similar English idiom “turn of the century” and also makes reference to the closing of one era and onset of another. [Taken from Wikipedia]
I kept on thinking about how to incorporate the ‘Isolation’ theme for Yandere!Neuvillette while also respecting his ideal of fairness. In one of his voice lines, he encourages to speak-up against grave injustice. With that in mind, this idea of “Keeping Reader isolated but giving them a chance to gain freedom by debating against Neuvillette once every century” was born. If Reader can successfully prove that Neuvillette is a terrible husband or their marriage is unjust, they can leave. But obviously, that's just false hope.
“Mon trésor”
Mon trésor is a gender-neutral French term of endearment which means “My treasure” in English. Huge thank you to @cerulean-castle and @iceunhie (please excuse me if I wasn't supposed to tag you two ;—;) for responding to my cry of help for this one as I was puzzled about French terms of endearment for a while. @/iceunhie gave me the link to a post of gender-neutral French terms of endearment which I found really helpful <3
As for why I chose Mon trésor as what Neuvillette calls Reader, it was due to the specific connotations between dragons and their treasures. Or in Neuvillette's case, Reader is his treasure. Hence, after sufficiently provoked, he doesn't flinch from referring to them as ‘abandoned property’.
“The words unspoken are the flower.”
Directly quoted from Neuvillette's [About : Wriothesley] voice line. According to him, it's an Inazuman proverb which means “Some words are better left unsaid.” which is Neuvillette's answer to his subconscious question of why he goes to such lengths for Reader.
Now, you can interpret this in a variety of ways and I'll say some of the “possible” ones. Perhaps he refuses to verbalize the causes because doing so would force him to face the hypocrisy and irrationality behind his actions. Perhaps he truly doesn't know, as there are many things he's on the path to understanding. Etcetera.
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I might add onto this post if anyone has more questions from the fic itself. Writing Jeux de Vagues was quite difficult because I had a deadline of sorts but I was determined to finish it. Although there might be room for further improvement, I'm still happy that I pulled it of :') I hope that at least, my love for Neuvillette's character can be felt through the fic <3
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fabdante · 3 days
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Excerpts from 'Eye of the Storm: The Story of Devil May Cry'
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When I first contacted Dante over email, I’d mentioned that I wanted an unrestrained look at his life as one of a select few who can speak to what it was like as a grunge rocker in the 90s. Writing back, he was open to the idea and joked about the very thought I had moments earlier. About feeling like a bunch of dinosaur bones on display. Now, he goes and gets himself a beer and comes back through the mess of his home and asks, “you still want the whole story?” I tell him I do. He takes a long chug of his bottle. “Then I guess let’s start from the top."
Summery: The first and only comprehensive look into the rise and fall of Devil May Cry! Straight from the mouths of the people who lived it and the generation to come after them. 'Eye of the Storm: The Story of Devil May Cry' goes over decades of history of one of the most unique grunge acts to come out of the early 90s, following the highs that would make the band successful and the absolute low that would make it all fall apart. Including comprehensive interviews with Dante Sparda about his childhood, his brother, music, and so much more!
Or: The Grunge Band AU
Words: 16,746
Rating: Mature (swearing and references to: drug and alcohol use, drug and alcohol addiction, prior character death which majorly hangs over the story, further elaboration in the fic notes)
Read Here!
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Hi, sorry to ask but have you written any fanfics where Jerry is autistic? I've read your autistic!morty fic and thought that was excellent. I'm trying to find Jerry-centric fanfics where he isn't mischaracterized/demonized. (Way too many people write Jerry as transphobic which -_-ll no he isn't)
Hi, no need to apologise! I haven't written any autistic Jerry fics and I'm not sure if I know of any (if anyone else does, please leave recs on this post!). I do 100% view him as autistic though. Thank you!
Yeah honestly Jerry being portrayed as transphobic is something that bothers me as a trans guy? I headcanon him as supportive but clueless/cringe at times (he a little confused but he got the spirit).
I do have a trans Morty WIP with a scene between Morty and Jerry, although Morty is still very early on in figuring out that he might be a guy, and Jerry kind of knows something is up but assumes Morty is a lesbian rather than a trans guy and so kind of fumbles but ultimately is trying to be supportive/nice. Morty does worry about Jerry not loving him anymore if he's trans, although this is Morty's POV rather than being objective/a thing that actually happens.
I'll leave the scene below the cut in case anyone's interested. Warnings for mention of periods (and them being referred to in a gendered way), fear of transphobia from parents, accidental misgendering (and misgendering/deadnaming of Morty in the text since this is only the very start of Morty's gender questioning).
“Morti? Rick said you’re sick. Are you OK?” Jerry opens the door. Morti quickly shoves her phone under her pillow. Thankfully, her dad is as oblivious as ever as he walks over and rests a hand against her forehead.
“You don’t feel warm. Is it, uh, you know,” Jerry points down towards his own abdomen, “woman troubles?” he asks in an exaggerated stage whisper. Morti wants to die all over again. She presses her face into her pillow.
“Hey, sweetheart, i-it’s OK.” Morti feels Jerry rest a tentative hand on her shoulder. “Do you need anything?”
Morti takes a few deep breaths to calm herself and then sits up.
“N-no, Dad, I’m OK.”
“OK, honey.” Jerry wraps his arms around her and Morti can’t help but wonder if he would still hug her like this if he knew what she’d spent the past couple of hours reading about. She hugs him back tightly, suddenly unable to stop thinking that she might have to make the most of the affection while it lasts.
When Jerry pulls back, his face clouds with concern and Morti realises she’s once again been crying. She’s getting really sick of that.
“Morti, honey, what’s wrong?”
Morti feels the question writhing around in her gut until it chokes its way out of her mouth. “Dad… you’d love me no matter what, right?”
“Of course, sweetie. No matter what, you’ll always be my daughter.”
The words are meant to be a comfort, but all Morti can think about is the possibility that she’s not his daughter.
“Morti? Are you gay? It’s OK if you’re gay, you know.” As always, Jerry is well-intentioned but clueless. Truthfully, Morti’s not really put much thought into her own sexual orientation, and it’s not her main concern right now. She shakes her head, and Jerry looks doubtful but leaves it. 
After a few minutes, Morti works up the courage to speak again. “Dad? Could-could you… tell me a story? Like when I was little?” she cringes as she says the words, knowing she’s far too old to be asking for something like that. To her relief, Jerry smiles.
“Sure thing, sweetie.” 
He launches into an improvised story, very similar to the ones she remembers him coming up with when she was younger. She has a memory of Summer complaining Jerry’s stories were boring, always demanding more action. However, once Summer had aged out of wanting a bedtime story and left Morti as the sole listener, Jerry had settled comfortably back into his original stories, which Morti found calming and reassuring. 
Her dad’s voice relaxes her and she rests her head against the pillow, feeling her eyelids begin to droop. Jerry’s hand rests on her hair and strokes it gently, just as he used to all those years ago. It’s enough to block out the negative thoughts for the time being, and Morti is so exhausted from the recent events that she soon drifts peacefully into sleep.
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daily-amber · 3 months
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day 117: friends!!!!!
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