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#the 'daughter' in question is me.

cinnamonsikwate · 4 months

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chilchuck spends the entirety of his daughters' visit hovering suspiciously between them and a certain dwarf. when it's time for the girls to go home and no proposals have been made, he breathes a sigh of relief — awkward coworker x family member romance route narrowly avoided!

a couple weeks later meijack shows back up unannounced, backpack laden with tools and thigh-high boots looking uncharacteristically spiffy. bewildered and betrayed, chilchuck rounds on a clueless senshi, only freezing mid-swear when meijack interrupts to ask after namari's whereabouts.

the last thing he remembers thinking is, "shit, i forgot about the other dwarf!" before promptly blacking out.

#dungeon meshi #jumping on the 'putting this man in situations' bandwagon #chilchuck tims #meijack chils #namari #will meijack be luckier in love than her father?#this idea came to me like a bolt out of the blue #unfortunately meijack is not namari's type but we'll work with what we have!#rip chilchuck's liver #he can't even go out w his usual drinking buddy bc drinking buddy in question is now the object of his daughter's affections #is namari even aware of what's happening lmao #don't take this too seriously lol #meijack can have a little crush as a treat #calemonsito notes

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newtidnt · 1 year

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new blog! yippee i was originally gonna draw mario too but i thought it was alot funnier to just slap a png on there and call it a day Still getting a feel for drawing bowser and luigi so it's a bit rough i don't really like how soft luigi looks in this but i dunnooo also i've been drawing almost solely feral cats for like 3 years now so i barely know how to drawn humans anymore help ((also i know someone else did the "i'm stuff" meme with mario characters (don't remember who) BUT they just used images and they didn't actually draw it so uhhhuhuu that's my excuse))

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inkskinned · 2 years

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Genuine question, because I don't know a lot about the topic and you're:

If someone identifies as non-binary and genderfluid, which from what I've gathered means something like "human" instead of male or female, doesn't that imply that women are not humans , like whole complete people with richer inner lives? And why is a dislike for (performative) femininity combined with a preference for things that are stereotypically associated with maleness an indicator that one is genderfluid? Does that mean a woman is only a woman if she loves to do make-up, wants to be a mother, only wears skirts, dresses and high heels, shaves daily, is always kind and never angry, has long hair, hates to get dirty and so on? Because I have never met a woman who's exactly like that in my life, but plenty who liked gaming, sports, being loud, opposed to shaving & make-up, who wore pants every day.

I do not believe this is a genuine question, but I'll answer it as if it was, just in case other people have to deal with this, and would like someone who is patient enough to give them the words. The argument you're making here is something that already stems from a deep logical fallacy in the beginning argument. You assume "If you are neither A nor B, and instead C, you think that A cannot be C."

It is a logical fallacy to say "X implies Y" when it does not do so. By this logic, I also believe men are not human. By this logic, I believe only nb people are human.

Some - but not all - rectangles are squares. Some - but not all - animals are dogs. Some humans are nb.

I have given no information about how I present, nor my interests. I am not going to give you that information, because it's irrelevant. What I need you to understand is that, again, you are making the incorrect logical assumption that "If a person dislikes X and likes Y, they must be Z." For all you know, I dislike performative masculinity and like stereotypically feminine preferences.

You then assume your own statement is correct and move forward with your logic as if I had debated you. This is not a "genuine question" about how nb people work, this is assuming being nb is based on a series of preferences.

As a teacher, I do think it's important to tell you: even if this is coming from a genuinely confused place: you are conducting bad research. You begin with an inherently flawed question, as it biased and assumes a position I must defend against - "why don't you see women as people?" Then you make logical conclusions about my personhood and experiences and ask inflammatory questions as if you were debating me, which I am not interested in doing.

If you were my student, and genuinely curious about how nb people see gender, I'd have no trouble with you asking an out nb content creator. If you're really trying to collect information, ask honestly, without personal bias. Here's some examples of what a genuine question would have looked like: - Do your preferences play into your gender identity? - How has being nb informed how you see femininity and masculinity? - What tools do you use to express your gender?

You are mistaking gender expression and gender roles as being part of my identity.

You are most crucially mistaking being nonbinary as being part of the binary and having to exist "in opposition" to other genders in order for it to "make sense". One of the most freeing things about realizing I was nb is that I don't exist in opposition to anything - and also that all gender works similarly.

Gender is a describing word, and this can be confusing for some people. In general, we tend to learn describing words in binary - short/tall, old/young, kind/mean. Therefore, there are (many) people who think - feminine/masculine must be oppositional. Gender is also a feeling word - and again, these are words that can be taught in opposition to each other. Hungry/sated, happy/sad, feminine/masculine.

But because gender is such a rare type of word - feeling and describing - it exists outside of binary. It exists more like art exists.

Green can exist in opposition to red, but it also just exists as its own color. Blue is a part of green, but it is also a part of yellow - blue is still its own color, and yellow is still its own color, and green is still its own color. One painting titled "still-life with fruit" may be a series of vague colors and boxes. Another may be a hyper-realistic singular plum. They are both how the artist expresses their personal vision of the fruit. They might even be by the same artist! And although we may compare them, they are not opposites.

One song by Hozier is not in opposition to one song by Britney Spears. They are different styles, not oppositional styles. You may choose to see them as oppositional - but that is your personal opinion, and not fact. And some people may feel and experience those songs as being actually incredibly in-line with each other.

This is why we say: gender is a spectrum. That all gender roles are made up. Personality, interests, and experiences may shape how someone sees and feels their gender, but it does not define how they see and feel their gender.

When we question gender roles and gender expression like this, it tends to make people upset. People like me tend to make people upset. So much bigotry is based on the lie that "feminine" and "masculine" are oppositional. Opposition is rigid and important - it keeps white hegemonic structures in power. I don't have time or space in this post to talk about how rigid gender roles/enforced gender expression rules are not just sexist but also racist, classist, ableist, homophobic, and bigoted; but I really recommend you do the research on how disruption of the gender binary might put the patriarchy at risk.

The thing you feel trapped by - that "being a woman" is a complicated series of rules - is exactly the kind of thing a nonbinary person would agree with you about. We have to fight hard to be recognized for what is a basic truth about our identity - of course we don't believe that gender expression is equivalent to gender identity.

And truth be told... I think you kind of knew that. I think you kind of knew all of this. I am going to hope that you are young. I'll tell you this: I was raised by someone who was a far-right extremist catholic asshole. I certainly didn't have the research/knowledge/exposure to interrogate this stuff honestly until I was probably 23.

I am so much happier now. I hope one day you get the same opportunities as I had. I hope you choose to move away from bigotry.

love u anyway. all this in kindness only.

#to be deleted #do i accidentally give my short lesson on gender here? yeah #<3 in this u can tell exactly the age that i taught for 15 years lmao #but also like.#yeah you got me.... i have never met a woman before and i totally think women are only fembots #meanwhile every person who has ever read my writing:#every 3rd week this bitch is on her bullshit about how unfair gender rules for women are #this is actually more to help other nb people whom i KNOW get questions like this #than it is to inform the anon #who like v clearly is not doing this in good faith #this is just like the 10th one i got like this #that first logical jump of - you think ur not male or female but human so therefore #women aren't people #was just SO wild .... like #yeah!!! that's totally a normal thing to assume!#do you think people who are like ''well yeah im from america #but i wouldnt consider myself to be from any particular state''#are actually saying ''i don't think states are american''#hell when i say #im cuban but i obvi grew up in america im just the daughter of an immigrant #nobody is like -- well. raquel. that means u think no americans live in cuba huh #anyway love u bye #okay to reblog #!!#love u

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lazydoodlesandfanfic · 10 months

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Answer The Phone (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader) *PARENTAL

Characters: Mycroft X Daughter!Reader, Sherlock X Niece!Reader

Universe: Sherlock

Warnings: mentions of being drugged via gas (fun story, this happened to me once lol), bomb, explosion, burns, unhealthy relationship with parent

Request: Hello could you do mycroft x daughter reader. Final problem the two have really broken father and daughter relationship and they haven't express themselves and because of it sherlock is kinda the father figure of the reader. So instead of Sherlock doing the phonecall its the mycroft who did the phonecall and reader almost said 'I love you ' to mycroft but its time up and mycrift witness the explosion in reader apartment and the Holmes are broken as they heard the shrill scream coming from the reader. Its up to you if you wanna turn out to let reader died. 😊

It had been a long time since you had actually gotten along with your dad. A long time since tensions weren’t running high when in his presence, well aware that things were one thoughtless comment away from a bicker or an argument. Whether it was wanting something from one another- more affection from him, or a more agreeable personality from you- or just not agreeing on things in general. He often commented on how you were more like your uncle Sherlock, even when you were young. Back then you took it as a compliment, seeing your uncle as a genius who adored you and was by far the funnest uncle in the world, but in your pre-teens you realised he meant it as an insult.

You could never forgive him for doing that, even if he didn’t mean it, or didn’t even realise what he was saying. Everytime he said it, it made you pull away from him even more. Spend more time with the man he compared you to, the only person who seemed to actually care about you. Of course, that was until you met Mrs Hudson and then John moved in with Sherlock. Mrs Hudson kept you company when your uncle was busy and you were avoiding your dad, and she’d softly poke into your home life and your relationship with your dad and try and give advice. John thought you were Sherlock’s assistant for a short while before Sherlock corrected him, acting insulted that he thought you were ‘just an assistant’. When he met Mycroft, he immediately began to understand why you weren’t close, and tried to be a responsible adult you could turn to. In the end, when you became a legal adult, you moved to an apartment much, much closer to Sherlock than your dad, and never in the 3 years you’d had it, had your dad stepped foot inside of it. He wasn’t allowed to.

You had a lot of feelings towards your dad from childhood to now. Anger, resentment, distrust. A disconnect you never thought and come to accept could ever be fixed. Whenever you needed support, you went to Sherlock. John. Mrs Hudson. Never him. But this time was different.

You were currently trapped in the said apartment. The one place you were supposed to feel safe no matter what, yet here you were, eyes focussed on the bomb that had been planted in the middle of your living room, the heart of your apartment, with several wires linking to it all across the apartment like spiderwebs. Linked to every possible escape route- the windows, the fire escape, and the only door in and out. You didn’t remember what had happened- you vaguely remember an odd smell as you wet to sleep last night, and when you awoke, you found yourself laying on the floor of your living room, and sitting up and seeing the device. Whoever had done this, had been nice enough to leave your phone right beside the bomb. You didn’t call anyone or even turn the phone on for several hours, scared that it had been tampered with as well and that was also a trigger, but you grew desperate. The first person you tried to call was your dad. You didn’t get through, so then you called Sherlock, and he picked up almost immediately, and you told him what was going on.

That was about two hours ago now. The police cars littered the streets outside, the complex and surrounding buildings completely evacuated. It was just you and this bomb within a 50 foot radius. Well, for a period of time, both Sherlock and John were on the other side of the door, asking you a billion and one questions about what you could see, and you described everything to the best of your abilities, and it was useful. One, Sherlock was able to piece together it was well made, and whoever made this was an expert and had experience with this- probably a military man, working in a bomb squad or something, and that this was purely explosive, no nails or anything to cause more damage, and due the size, the blast wouldn’t go far past the walls of your home. However, after demanding his honesty, he admitted he also had no clue how to diffuse it, or if that was even possible. It seemed too fragile, that even a light breeze could set it off. That solidified your decision to remain perfectly still within two of the wires attached to your windows, too scared to even touch the glass or move to quickly, remembering his comment on a breeze, and didn’t want to risk vibration.

You still hadn’t been able to reach your dad.

“John?” You had asked over the phone. The phone was often being in call between people, mostly Sherlock and John, though Mrs Hudson had called when neither were available to try and keep you calm. It was John’s turn as Sherlock was following leads.

“Yeah? Is something happening?” John asked.

“No it’s just… I can’t reach my dad. I keep trying to call him but he won’t pick up… I… I just want to hear his voice.” You admitted. It sounded ridiculous, childish, but you were tired, hungry, and the adrenaline had drained your energy a while ago now. “Does he know what’s happening?” You asked. He was silent on his side for a minute.

“I don’t know, but I tell you what, I’m going to personally find him, and drag him here, and make him answer his phone, okay?” He promised, and you could hear the anger oozing over the phone, which you couldn’t help but smile at. “In the meantime, I think Sherlock is going to call you later, I think he’s onto something. Hang on, alright?” He said, before handing up. You placed the phone on the floor, carefully standing up, and with distance between yourself and the window, you peered out of it, able to see John as he dashed off towards Lestrade, telling him something, before the pair got into a car and took off presumably to go and find your dad. Looking around more, you spotted Mrs Hudson peering up. She waved when she saw you, and you waved back. With nothing else to do, you sat back down in front of the bomb, trying to examine it to the best of your ability, seeing nothing of importance, before you laid down on the floor, closing your eyes, and waiting.

You flinched when your phone rang. You flinched every time it rang, even if someone had told you just a minute prior it was coming. You reached over, picking it up and placing it to your ear, remembering what John had said. “Sherlock?” You asked.

“How many pieces of furniture in your flat can you crawl under?” His question was far from reassuring, as you bolted up, on high alert.

“U-Um, I don’t know, why? Do I need to hide? Take cover? What’s going on?” You panicked.

“The wiring to the bomb is far too fragile for someone to be able to rig it from the outside after escaping. They must have either found or made another way inside, somewhere where you wouldn’t have noticed. If we can find it you can get out yourself, or we can get inside. Think. Lay on the floor and look around for anything, furniture that you can get under, or furniture light enough but large enough to cover an escape but be able to move from below. Be. Careful. Watch the wires. Call me back if you find anything, I’m on my way back.” He said before hanging up, leaving you alone with silence and overwhelming pressure. You looked at the wires around you, before trying to think of the best places for someone to hide a hatch- under the coffee table, the recliner that you knew was easy to move, your wardrobe in your room which had some crawl space underneath, and for you, the most creepy- under your bed. You quickly checked under your coffee table in front of you, of course finding nothing, because of course that would be too easy. Your recliner was across from you, so after a deep breath, you got down on the ground, and carefully crawled under the wires, spotting a wire that was too low to crawl under, and you stood and carefully stepped over it. You then carefully moved your recliner, checking underneath, and found nothing. That left your bedroom.

Your phone rang again, and your cursed yourself, realising you left it beside the table, and you hurriedly but carefully moved back, grabbing it and answering it. “Hello? Sherlock?”

“Y/N?” Your dad’s voice caught you off guard, and you gasped in surprised. “What’s going on? John told me to call you and said it was dire.” He asked. A relief came over you just from hearing his voice, your eyes burning as you sniffed.

“Dad… it’s bad.” You started, getting silence on the phone. “There’s… someone put some sort of sedative gas into my flat when I went to bed and broke in- they moved me into the living room and- there’s a bomb. There’s a bomb in the living room and it’s wired up to every escape and I can’t get out and I’m scared and I don’t want to die-” You rambled to him before you heard him finally repeating your name to try and interrupt you.

“Y/N, Y/N, breathe. Is Sherlock working on it?” He asked, that last sentence sound a little distance, and you faintly heard John confirm in the background, before he returned to the phone. “Alright. Sherlock’s working on it. What has he told you?”

“He um… He said that he thinks there’s a secret entrance somewhere- and that’s how the person who did this escaped after rigging everything. He told me to look for it- I’m going to check in my bedroom next.” You explained to him, looking over, being relieved when you saw no wire attached to the door.

“Is that door rigged?”

“No. Hold on, I have to crawl under the wires.” You explained, getting back down, crawling under the wires, before reaching it the door, and holding the phone to your ear. “Okay, I’m at the door.”

“Do you feel like a secret agent?” He asked, catching you off guard.

“What?” You asked, pausing in your plan.

“Crawling under and over the wires. It’s like the laser lights and those agents avoiding them. You used to love those movies when you were little. You thought that was what Sherlock did in his cases.” He reminisced. A faint smile met your lips. You’d totally forgotten about that.

“Yeah… I remember one time when I pulled out all the red thread from a jumper you had gotten me, pinning it all over the house so I could pretend to be a secret agent and then using it to make an information board… you were so mad when you came back home because the jumper was some expensive brand and I’d made the board on a wall and wrote on it and everything… sorry about that.” You told him, somehow finding the energy to chuckle pathetically.

“Don’t apologise.” Mycroft told you. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. You were 6, you were just being a child.” He pointed out. “I’m… I’m also sorry that I didn’t answer your calls. I should have known something was wrong when you kept trying to reach me.” He apologised. You hummed, before you realised something.

“This is the first time we’ve been able to actually talk without bickering or arguing in years.” You pointed out. You heard him sigh.

“When this whole mess is over, I promise you we’re going to have a proper family dinner, catch up, and actually talk. No bickering. No arguing. A genuine conversation. How does that sound?” He asked. You smiled to yourself. This was the best thing that had happened all day, not like that was hard.

“Yeah. Let’s hope the escape is in my room.” You said, remembering your task. You reached out, grabbing the handle of your bedroom door, and opening it, and pulling the door open. “Hey, you know, despite not really getting along my whole life, I want you to know that I do love-” You looked up to search your room, but the sound of a beep made your eyes focus on the bomb attached to your bedframe, this one a lot bigger, that was rigged to your bedroom door, that you had just set off.

Mycroft heard you gasp, the sound of you running, hearing you muttering repeatedly ‘no, no, no, no”, the sound of you trying to open a door before the call ended. “Y/N?” Mycroft asked. He heard nothing. He tried calling you back, and it didn’t even ring. He got an awful feeling in his stomach and he wanted to be sick, but he looked up at John who looked confused at what was happening, having not heard what he’d heard. “Get me to her flat right now.”

By the time the pair arrived on your street, it was already blocked off and there was more than one firetruck trying to subdue the fire that was blazing where your flat used to be. Mycroft didn’t speak as he approached, seeing the sight, realising what it was exactly that he heard. He heard his daughter realise she triggered an explosive. He heard his daughter run across the one place she was meant to be safe to the front door. He heard his daughter try and open the door, and realise it was locked and she was trapped inside.

He heard his daughter die, terrified and alone. And for what? Why? Why not him, or Sherlock? He wanted to be angry, demand answers, find who did this and get revenge even if it isn’t lawful, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry right now. Only guilty. He should have spent more time with you. He should have tried harder to be a better parent to you, he should have been kinder, more understanding. He should have been there.

“John! Mycroft!” Mycroft didn’t hear Mrs Hudson at first as she dashed over as quick as she could- she was sobbing and sniffling, clutching a handkerchief to her face as she approached.

“Mrs Hudson, what happened?!” John asked alarmed and out of breath.

“There was a second bomb in the bedroom, when she opened the door it set it off.” She explained. Mycroft finally looked away from the blaze to look at the woman. The call had ended only 20 minutes or so prior, and since the flat was still in fire, so there was no way to examine the scene.

“How do you know that?” He asked her. She didn’t say anything, simply grabbing his arm and pulling him down the street, pass the firetrucks, past the police who looked defeated, and towards an ambulance. The back doors were open, and inside he was able to see two paramedics tending to someone in the bed. He felt his heart leap into his throat as he sprinted to the edge and jumped inside, able to finally see your face, an oxygen mask over your face, burns littering your body, and you were unconscious as a paramedic was placing bandaging on one of your burns. “Is she okay? Is my daughter okay?” He demanded answers, one of the paramedics looking up at him.

“She’s suffered burns and blunt force trauma from the explosion. She was conscious when she was able to get out, but she fell unconscious, and we need to get her to the hospital now. Please sit down if you’re coming with her.” He instructed, and Mycroft followed and sat down. He turned, seeing John and Mrs Hudson stood, staring at you.

“Please make sure Sherlock finds out who did this. They need to pay for this.” Mycroft demanded. John nodded firmly, before the doors shut, the sirens turned on and the ambulance began to move. Mycroft put his whole focus on you, making sure your chest moved up and down, looking for any sign of you waking up, and more importantly, any sign you were in pain. He only saw you breathing, and he decided for now he should be thankful for that. He didn’t know what exactly he was going to do, but he knew that somehow, someway, he was going to fix this. He was going to make everything better. He had to.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @holy-tea-cup-blog @sassy-specter @keenmarvellover @multifandomfix @sleutherclaw @otterly-fey @courtneychicken @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines@huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

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scintillyyy · 3 months

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the thing is that there are interesting ways to play with the idea that thomas and martha weren't the perfect parents that bruce will always venerate them as on account of they died when he was 8 (i feel like the ones i'm most interested are the throwaway lines that imply they might've sent bruce to boarding school + the idea that thomas was maybe a little too focused on prioritizing his work over family), however dc seems to constantly go for ~but did thomas cheat on martha?? was he imperfect in his potential unfaithfulness???~ (they do this for a lot dad characters in general i feel like) and it's just overdone and tiring and i hate it so.

#i genuinely think their go to when trying to interrogate if a dead father figure had flaws is to be like “oh he might've cheated”#stop stop i beg u #(this is also why i generally don't like secret siblings because it feeds into this tendency)#also i will defend melinda and meili bc it's not their fault they were created by tt #but the absolute flipside to this is the idea that the dude in question would never dare have a relationship that wasn't his one true love #'even though i knew he would never love me he only had eyes for your mother i was totally cool being a pity fuck dw'#anyways i would fix melinda by having her actually be zucco's daughter #or by having john and meili be in a relationship and then he broke up with her for mary. let's get messy.

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muninnhuginn · 11 months

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Love the steady recontextualisation that takes place in Flower of Evil. At first you think Ji-won's trust in Hyun-soo is because she's perhaps naïve or is in denial and just wants to believe in him. The circumstantial evidence consistently mounts against Hyun-soo, but she still seems to believe him innocent to the point of stubbornness.

But as you see more of their history, you start to realise that he has in no way "fooled" her. Every instance of him "faking" being the family man is actually just... him learning the relevant social cues because he wants his family to like him. And he may wrap it all up in justifications that he needs her as camouflage but, the fact remains, as someone living under an assumed identity? He did not have to marry a cop. He chose to do that. So it follows that all his practising smiling, his observation notebooks, they’re him making an effort to bridge the gap and learn to show the affection he wants to be in the relationship, despite him not realising himself that his feelings are genuine.

But Ji-won liked him long before he had learned these cues. Back when to the surface observer he was off-putting and abrasive, she saw the kindness in his actions rather than in his expressions and his distancing. She liked him for him. And yeah, she appreciates him making the effort, but that wasn't why she fell for him.

When it comes to their relationship, she’s not the unreliable narrator here; he is.

#flower of evil #this is one of those shows I cannot in all honesty claim to be amazing. but it's fun and makes my brain sizzle #rewatched one of the early eps earlier and I'd forgotten how much they tried pushing a certain perspective early on #but even with all that pushing the evidence is still there enough that even on first watch I remember questioning it #admittedly the stuff wrt his daughter was a lot stronger in terms of showing his care ('what if she's like me' like yikes.) but!#it wasn't just his daughter. and it takes longer to unravel for it to be clear he cares just as much for ji-won. be the evi is there #I know on first watch I wasn't taken in by the romance stuff at the start and it was only later on I was sold on it. rewatch is kinder

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foursaints · 4 months

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lily be the kind of vampire to awkwardly flirt her way into acquiring your blood type and barty be the kind of shithead to laugh and mock her for it while she actively has her fangs inside him

lily as a vampire is a wonderful concept because i have trouble imagining her out of the sunshine. i think she still looks as lively & red-blooded & sunkissed as the farmers daughter she was before getting turned and it’s very dangerous.

vampire!regulus is my favorite though… that man is allergic to three different blood types and will despondently sigh after sucking someone dry because now he has a rash. he got turned in 1446 after his monastery gave shelter to a dark & mysterious stranger (he was the ambiguously homosexual spare son sacked off to go illuminate manuscripts) and he specifically was bitten because he was the only monk bitchy enough to verbally be like “hey maybe we should not give shelter to this guy his vibes are fucking terrible”. only thing he ever enjoyed in his undead life was living to see high collars & male corsets come into fashion and he’s still sopping around moping about how short-lived it was like a century later

#a #t #you didn’t ask but i sure am thinking about it #vampire barty was 10000% a medieval knight. but like a really shitty noncommittal one who kept fucking off on ‘quests’#<- the quest in question took an extra 8 months because he can’t stop charming noble daughters into letting him stay in their castle #they’re like tell me about your noble quest ser knight and he’s like *having a really good time in the provided robe*#*eating a pheasant*#so you said your father was hunting boar this afternoon? how stimulating. i myself am an excellent huntsman

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hephaestuscrew · 2 months

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Lady Miss Clara Entwhistle

'Miss Entwhistle' or 'Miss Clara Entwhistle' is said 93 times across Seasons 1 and 2 of Victoriocity. 'Lady [Clara] Entwhistle' is never said until S3E4. I'm obsessed with the fact that every time Clara has introduced herself or been referred to by name - every time she's been 'Miss' rather than 'Lady' - it's been a symbol for her of how she's building her own life, separate from her family and their expectations for her. She could have adopted a whole new name if she wanted to entirely disguise her aristocratic family ties, but she choose a more subtle shift.

Before she came to London, how many times had she walked into rooms she didn't want to be in and been announced as 'Lady Clara Entwhistle'? Did it feel strange to her at first, the switch to introducing herself without any hint at her father's Earldom? Or did it just feel right, her name finally able to stand on its own, like she was trying to?

How many situations has Clara been in since moving to London where her title would have commanded respect and made things easier? How many people has she met who would have been impressed that she was a member of the aristocracy, who might have cooperated more quickly or revealed information more easily had they known? In the confrontation with Merrick in the House of Commons, for example, would there have been quite so much jeering and disbelief from the benches at the words of an Earl's daughter, as opposed to a random unmarried female journalist? But she's never played that card - it's never felt worth it to her.

When we first meet Clara as she enters London, she says "Well, my mother's occupation is... Lady, I suppose. And I am a journalist." Lady is a role which defines her mother, who is appalled by the idea of having an occupation. "Why couldn’t you just have married a duke, moved to Saxony and died of scarlet fever like your sister?" is funny in its ridiculousness, but it's also horrifying; Clara's mother would prefer a dead daughter than a daughter who is living the life Clara wants. That's something that must weigh on her, even when the ties are cut. Coming from an environment like that, it's no wonder if she sees a life of autonomy and independence as inherently incompatible with any acknowledgement of the role in society she was born into. So she goes by 'Miss', and she doesn't seem to talk about her aristocratic heritage, and still she's asking herself "what it means to be free, for birds or people"...

#Victoriocity #Victoriocity spoilers #Clara Entwhistle #I don't know why I've barely posted about Victoriocity Season 3 #Don't worry I am going insane about it...#Until the last ep it hadn't occurred to me that her mother being 'Lady Lucretia' might mean Clara would have a title other than 'Miss'#which I guess speaks to how she distances herself from that #as well as my ignorance of the structure of the aristocracy #Tbf according to my research if Clara's father had been a viscount or a baron #her mother would had the title 'Lady' but Clara wouldn't have #The daughters of viscounts and barons are referred to as 'The Honourable'#and daughters of baronets or knights are simply called 'Miss'#Anyway the insight into some of the difficult emotions and questions Clara is wrangling with under the surface in S3E4 was so good #I hope we get to dig into this a little more

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