#you can make a kilt argument

[kirakiwiwrites]

Didn’t get as many this time, but laughed a lot writing this!

For this one, we are going back again to before the kids came along. If you have read any of our other stuff, you know we love Cooper so we had to have him in one. We might do one with him and the kids if we have a good idea.

Thanks to @klaine-word-scramble!

(Aug 7 entry - 942 words)

Warnings: explicit language

Title: Raven Expensive

Kurt trudged up the stairs to his apartment, his day finally over. Although it had been a mentally exhausting day being hurried from one audition to another, they had gone well for the most part and he was optimistic. He hoped to have a nice, relaxing evening, but he knew that probably wouldn’t happen. With a deep breath, he prepared himself for what he knew awaited him inside his apartment. Blaine’s brother Cooper was visiting and staying with them. He was mostly entertaining, slightly exhausting, and overall meant well. It didn’t stop Blaine bickering with him though. From the muffled argument he could hear from outside the door, Kurt realized with a sigh it was happening yet again.

“Cooper, it’s a terrible idea. The worst really.”

“Stop trying to squash my dreams!”

“I’m not trying to squash your dreams, you walnut! I’m trying to keep you from embarrassing yourself and me! And our entire family!”

“Dream squisher!”

Kurt hooked his keys next to Blaine’s on the wall and dropped his messenger bag on the table as he shook his head at the two brothers. They were in the living room, Cooper kneeling on the couch backwards and poking Blaine in the face repeatedly while his irate husband smacked his finger away. Kurt put his hands on his hips and resigned himself to be mediator yet again.

“Boys, what’s going on? I leave you for a few hours and you are at each others throats? Do I need to ground you both?”

Blaine softened a little at the sight of his husband and kissed his cheek when he came to stand beside him. “Cooper has been binging Ru Paul’s Drag Race again and now he thinks he wants to be a drag queen. I’ve told him just because he’s watched all the seasons—”

“Including Untucked and All Stars! The international shows are next!”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Just because he’s watched one show doesn’t mean he is going to be successful as a drag queen. It’s not just about wanting to—“

“I can do it!” Cooper interrupted much to Blaine’s annoyance. “I can serve cunt! And I’m very pretty as a boy, I’m sure to be gorgeous as a queen!” Tossing his head, he gave Kurt his most dazzling smile that truthfully made him blush a little. He was in love with Blaine, of course, but Cooper definitely had his own charm.

How to make peace? He didn’t want to take sides, but the last thing they needed was Cooper ruining the rest of his visit with a half-cocked idea and upsetting Blaine. Kurt gave Blaine’s hand a reassuring squeeze and smiled at Cooper like he would an unreasonable child. “Have you even done drag before?”

“Not on the stage, darling, but I wore a skirt once!” Cooper pretended to brush his hair behind his ears and then caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror. He primped a little, pouting out his lips.

“That was a kilt, you dummy. That’s not a skirt,” Blaine grumbled beside Kurt.

“It still counts!” Cooper retorted. “And my legs looked fantastic. You are just jealous that I could pull it off and you couldn’t! You don’t have the charisma, uniqueness, nerve, or talent I have!” He snapped. “That’s called a read dear brother. It’s an insult.”

Blaine’s eye twitched as the last thread of his patience began to unravel. “I know what a fucking read is, Cooper. This is like every other thing you have picked up for two seconds and tossed away!”

Cooper nodded, his eyes sparkling. Yeah, he wasn’t listening whatsoever. “Be real, Blainey. This is my calling and I shall answer her! I’ve even picked out a name! Raven Expensive! Isn’t that just the best!”

Blaine rubbed a hand down his face while Kurt nearly bit his lip off trying not to laugh. It wasn’t the time. Blaine was seconds from losing it completely. “Coop, I say this with love and concern. You would suck at it. You can’t walk in heels. Remember when you decided your destiny was to walk on stilts and travel with the carnival? You nearly broke your tailbone.”

Kurt could see Cooper was about to argue again, so he tried to help Blaine convince him. “Yeah, walking in heels is harder than you think. You have to practice a lot if you don’t want to fall.”

“When did you wear heels?” At the barely contained lust in his voice, Kurt turned to Blaine and blushed at the heated way he was eyeing him.

“For glee club mostly. What? I’ve worn them for Halloween costumes too.” Kurt nudged him for the way he was leering. He could tell by the glazed expression that Blaine had something dirty in mind. “Why do you want to know?”

“Definitely for purely innocent reasons and not perverted ones,” Blaine replied low and growly.

“Look, drag is already bringing this family together!” Cooper exclaimed. “As for the heels, I can learn. Kurt can teach me! Now, I’m thinking for my performance I use lots of fire—“

“Cooper, absolutely not! Kurt, we are going to the shoe store like now. You can dance in heels, right? Like dirty dance?” Blaine was already tugging him towards the door and grabbing his keys. Kurt giggled at the excited gleam in his husband’s eye as he tried to push Kurt out the door while mumbling about how amazing Kurt’s ass would look in heels.

“Wait for me!” Cooper shouted as he flopped off the back of the couch into the floor and hurried after them. “I need shoes too! And I need someone to film my audition video! Guys!”

Words used:

Unravel

Real

Learn

Raven

#klaine-word-scramble #klaine word scramble #glee #klaine #klaine fanfiction #fanfic #kirakiwi #blaine anderson #kurt hummel #cooper anderson #drag #future fic

[ytptennis]

I think it's a bit obvious that Munch is non-binary. The point is that I assume the series didn't want to make this openly known, because it's not convenient and it's there, you just have to connect the dots and understand. Especially since there has already been a horde of people who have hated the season because it has touched on her wounds, with this wave of "this is woke" insults. Noah left it up to the audience to realize this, something that goes far beyond the kilt (which is different from the standard kilts) that Munch wears, you can see that there are pieces in Munch's clothing that are distinctly feminine for his body shape, both names that were used to refer to Munch were genderless names and so on. You don't see it if you don't want to because of sheer prejudice!

Gender issues are being tackled in a much deeper way this season, the whole issue of Scotty, Dot, Wayne escaping the gender pattern (stereotype) expected of a cis man or a cis woman, while Roy represents the supreme stereotype of a butch man. Anyway, I have nothing to add and I'm glad there are people who realize this too.

Example of whiny adults calling Fargo S-5 is Woke —https://www.reddit.com/r/MauLer/comments/18izid0/fargo_5_woke_trash/

thank you for taking the time to send this!!! I love & resonate with your enthusiasm. munch just absolutely grabbed me by the balls bc I've never really seen amab gender nonconformity done this way. sure, its an echo of "otherworldly being has no gender", but it subverts it by stressing munch's humanity before his supernatural qualities, which strengthens the argument more by having him struggle with his otherness. I agree with the showrunners wanting us to come to that conclusion ourselves, too. he's just. ugh. top 10 TV characters of the 21st century for sure

#💌 #this could be a lot more eloquent but i just got off work & my brain is fried #thank you again for this it made me really happy 💖💖💖

[pureamericanism]

Addressing controversial topics with subtlety and nuance without resorting to fence-sitting is a difficult thing to do, so I've thought for a long while about how I'd word this post so it would actually reach people. I'm fairly sure it'll fail, but I'm tired of mistaking my own confused silence for cowardice.

So, how about that culture war, huh? Pretty wild stuff, innit? For example, I had thought that there was a pretty vast space for productive compromise in between "men should be banned from wearing kilts on the grounds of sexual immorality" and "pushing pro-sterilization propaganda on children from the age of 4 onwards from every available uncensored platform is fucking awesome, actually," but it seems in the current state of things that's not the case. It's either one extreme or the other. Indeed, that dichotomy forms a depressingly thorough scissor statement for much of our terminally online class.

Including myself, of course. For my part, even though I regularly wear a kilt on formal occasions - including for my own wedding - I would much, much rather have to quietly hush up that fact, deleting all pictures thereof and having A Word with my friends and relations, than have my nieces, nephews, and my own (future) children subject to non-stop pro-sterilization propaganda from their teachers, media heroes, etc. And it isn't even close. In fact, the idea that someone might hold the opposite point of view seems to me as obviously, transparently abhorrent as the parenting practices of Walter Breen.

And yet, many of the people I follow here on tumblr seem to hold that opposite perspective. I won't call my mutuals 'friends' - I don't personally hold with having friends that I've never met in person - but you're all people who, if I heard you'd suddenly died, I'd feel really quite sad for a good long while. You post interesting, insightful things, sometimes things I already agree with, sometimes things I find novel and interesting, and sometimes things I heartily disagree with. Whichever way, though, they're things I find interesting and am glad to read. But there's some of you who seem to hold quite the opposite opinion as me on this scissor statement, who think 'banning men from wearing kilts' to be the greater of two evils here, and who don't seem to be afraid of proclaiming that fact.

I don't know what to make of this fact. I've always thought of rationality as the only arbiter of judgement that we can possibly rely on, and so I can think of various arguments in favor of my opinion, but I can't imagine they would actually persuade anyone who disagrees. There are a lot of moral, ethical, and political questions where I can imagine close, scientific reasoning would persuade me, but...well, as I said above, I view my opponents' position as being morally equivalent to advocating for Walter Breen's systematic sexual abuse and exploitation of his pre-pubescent children over the course of many years, and I can't imagine any possible argument that would persuade me that that's fine and dandy.

And yet, many of the people who seem to espouse this horrifying position seem otherwise to be sensitive, caring and intelligent people. What is one to make of this? Is morality really completely, entirely, 100% arbitrary? If it's this arbitrary, that there can be no common ground on such fundamental questions as this, then I find it hard to avoid agreeing with the poet that "if we knew what we are, we should do as Sir Arthur Jermyn did; and Arthur Jermyn soaked himself in oil and set fire to his clothing one night." I don't know.

I'll confess that my secret hope in writing this is that one of my mutuals who falls on the other side of this scissor statement from me will read my framing of the issue - "massive, government-sponsored pro-child-sterilization propaganda" - and come to the slow, belated realization that they've been wrong the whole time. But, realistically, I don't have much hope that'll happen. After all, I've seen the other side frame the debate in equally apocalyptic terms - "trans genocide!," an' a' tha' - for years, and it's failed to move me even the slightest amount. Frankly, I'll be surprised if any of the people I'd be happiest to persuade have even read this far. Reading an effortpost can take a lot of effort, after all, and most especially when it disagrees with you.

Still, I would like to extend a hand to all of you awful, reprehensible, and yet somehow morally decent people. As I said in the very first paragraph, even though I find your moral priors horrible beyond measure in ways that shake my belief in the very idea of a common morality to the core, I still think there's a really vast space for compromise. Surely we can all agree that it's perfectly fine for men to wear dresses and eyeliner, and for women to drive motorcycles and chew Copenhagen, and that it's also probably a bad idea for 3rd-grade teachers to be telling kids how fucking hip double mastectomies are? Right? Hell, I'll go further - I really don't care who uses what bathroom, tbh, as long as they're not doing something that is already considered awful for innumerable other, non-gender-related reasons. As long as you can agree that, actually, prescribing chemical castration drugs to otherwise healthy 10 year olds is not the sort of thing that should be considered consistent with the rest of our medical ethics.

Here, I've even prepared a light-hearted cartoon about my attempt to find common ground and compromise in the broad space in between our two positions:

If it seems pessimistic about the likelihood of genuine long-term peace and compromise over this or any other culture war issue, well. That's because I am.

#culture war #controversial #effort post

[lilly-white]

Hey, for the Weird Questions for Writers 3, 17 and 18 if you don’t mind?

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

My writing ritual is cursed because: - constantly need hot drink therefore constantly need to get up and make hot drink - constantly need comfort food when a Scene is Hard therefore goodbye any healthy eating habits - obsessively getting into a scene means horrid posture & eyes no longer work - sometimes I put a little candle and try to be nice to myself but most times i’m like NO! NO SELF CARE! ONLY SUFFERING

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

I really want people to understand the successive waves of invasions in the British Isles and the exact displacements of the Celtic populations there, and also that Gaelic & Brittonic Celtic cultures are two distinct cultures even if there is overlap? Like there is different history & language there? Readers don’t seem to understand this and file my characters under “Irish” or “Scottish” when I’m in an era when Brittonic-speakers still occupy the north of Britain, including Scotland (Pictland at the time), which was only just being colonised by Irish settlers. It is largely argued that the Picts were Brittonic-speakers therefore part of the Brittonic tribes of the isle of Britannia, therefore far more related to the countrymen of Wales & Cornwall than any Gaelic-speaking population. And I know there’s Scottish nationalism and stuff that would counter this argument but I’ve read the damn research and it’s there. You had the isle of Britannia which was largely Brittonic-speaking right up to the northernmost point of Pictland, and then you had Ireland which was Gaelic-speaking. And saying “Scottish” implies a Gaelic culture which is not the case in my series and it drives me up the wall aaaaaaaaahh.

It’s important because anglophones all seem to think that there is one monolithic “Celtic culture” and it’s either “IRELAND, FAIRY CIRCLES AND KILTS”, or it’s whatever the hell Shakespeare and Milton farted out that one time back in the middle ages and I’m like. “Celtic” culture is so, so rich and diverse. But people just smush that shit together, Americans are out here doing “wicca” and “ancient Celtic rituals” of Imbolc/Bealtaine/etc and I’m like, you know those rituals are Irish. In Wales you don’t do that. In Brittany you don’t do that. Gaulish Celts also had their own calendar. Please see us :’) (lol it’s fine i know it’s complicated as shit in reality to untangle what the fuck happened and who are “the Celts”, I’m only just beginning to understand the differences because i’m boobs-deep in celtic studies so, i can’t expect everyone to know the intricacies, but it’d be nice if it were more generally acknowledged when people talk about “something Celtic”, that they specify like, “Irish Celtic”, “Welsh Celtic” etc)

Also fuck all King Arthur movies ever made I just want to put it out there (except potentially that recent Green Knight one? I haven’t seen it yet but the Mabinogion-like madness looks great. Just gotta wince inside every time they set Arthur in MASSIVE GOTHIC ARCHES and HUMUNGOUS 12TH+ CENTURY CASTLES like. If he lived at all it was way before the 10th century you guys. But OK hollywood you really can’t pluck him out of those historically inaccurate castles/cathedrals, you just can’t bothered to get a history consultant, i get it, FINE)

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

So!! I write Viking-era historical fantasy, and I incorporate old Norse magic in this tome of my series. And previously I did NO research (or, really not enough) into the actual historical Norse “magic system” if you can call it that. But in the Poetic Edda you really get a great description of what exists in Norse “spellcrafting”. So I’ve got like a bulletpoint list of the magic system now lol which has helped so much with vocab & imagining how the spells are actually cast.

So, context: one character is in a coma, protags turn to spellcrafting to go and “fetch his mind” from the realm where he’s lost himself. At first I just had my characters sort of go “to high ground” with some “seidr-workers” to perform a chant. This was wrong, because seidr is exclusively divination & “vengeance-seeking”, and is a female craft (if men do it it’s like a huge stain to your character). The “regular magical lore” that everyone can learn is called “fjölkyngi” and there is one such act that is called “spirit-wandering” where your mind basically travels around without your body. So, since my protags are accompanied by sorceresses, I changed the term “seidr-worker” to “Völva” (which I’m unsure about but at least we’re departing from seidr), and the protags actually go out in the realms in the final draft (aka they drink a potion & have a huge shared hallucination lol), whereas in the previous draft they sort of sang and that was it.

The first sign of departure is a squirm in the stomach, as though something were swimming in there. It’s those invisible hands again, shuffling through my insides, like fat fingers in a dice cup trying to fish out the die. My bow slips from my grasp. I bend to retrieve it, and the world bends around me.

Oh… yes, this was how it went. I breathe in and I know that when I breathe out, I will lose my mind; it will fly out like shreds in the wind. I need – need it to be a controlled exit. Controlled.

I glance around to Tamsin. I have to turn my head around so far until I see her, like an owl making the whole rotation. She’s deep in concentration, her hand beating the rhythm by itself; but her body is going limp. She falls slowly, gracefully to her knees beside me, still banging that stick at her wide drum. I know how that feels, how keeping the rhythm is as instinctive as breathing now – thrum, thrum, goes the ceaseless heart.

Tamsin. Tamsin. I need to stay with her. Stay – stay with her. My tagelharpa slides from my lap onto the ground, and I reach out – there’s so much air between us somehow, my arm stretching into it, a brave traveler disappearing into mist. She beats, and beats, and beats the drum, unfocused eyes skating over my palm.

“Tamsin,” I slur. “Ta… come. Take… my hand, take…”

“I don’t,” come the sounds from her drooping mouth, “I don’t feel so good.”

The stick slips, the drum thrums over the ground. Her palm is warm against mine, a downward motion; a slap that weighs like a stone. And then our joint hands are falling, and we are falling after them. The rocky ground underneath us turns to grey water, gulping us under. A leg, a hip, a curl of ginger hair.

We fall.

Everything rushes past us like wind. Whether it be solid ground or open sky; we are as ghosts passing through. Her hand is in mine, golden threads wrapped around our wrists glowing like hunter’s tokens in the woods, showing the way back.

Blue, deep and royal, opens like a yawning mouth around us. I pull her closer until we’re locked in an embrace; perhaps merged, or perhaps we were always one.

I open my eyes, strain my eyelids.

Where is this… where are we?

Voices flutter on the air around us. A host of crackly elder tones, of wrinkled hands drumming, drumming.

Point the direction, son of Ula.

#writing tracker #sorry i took so long to answer this i knew it'd be a long one lol #i chipped away at it ahah #convos #just #neopaganism seems to have popularised and made accessible some shit that then gets labeled 'celtic' #AND IT GETS IN THE WAY OF THE HISTORICAL RESEARCH SO MUCH #because there are SO MANY shitty not-historically-based books out there as a result #same for norse stuff #norse & celtic culture in general just suffer from people wanting 'the vibe' without really diving deeper into the historical texts #and i guess i get pissed off because i have like this cultural dissonance of like 'is this my culture or is this an irish thing again' lol #why settle for shit like wicca when you could learn what people from specific localities actually did #and it's 100% more interesting and whackier than wicca #all these neopagan books be like 'hello i'm the author and i'm going to smack down a bunch of reference-less knowledge' #'i expect you to take me at my word' excuse me but who the fuck are you anyway #when i read the Holy Book of Women's Mysteries i was like WHAT ARE YOU DOINGGG #why are you making shit up #isn't it more interesting to link it to history??? why take historical shit and warp it like that and lace it with your own brainfarts

[professionalsmiral]

Brave movie

#Brave movie how to

#Brave movie movie

#Brave movie 1080p

Those teen years can be difficult in many households. We see here a mom’s need to prepare her kids for the real world, a daughter’s desire for freedom and the ability to make her own decisions. In Brave, Merida grows up before our eyes-not physically, but emotionally.Įlinor and Merida wind up risking their lives for each other, and their contentious-but-beautiful bond mimics, in its own surreal way, many a mother-daughter relationship. She realizes that all those lessons were important-that she has responsibilities and duties that she can’t shirk or run away from. She discovers that her mother, far from being a beast, has loved and cared for her as much as anyone. Instead of claiming the princess like a blue ribbon at a fair, a potential suitor must now (as a lord tells us) win her heart before he wins her hand.īut it’s Merida who changes more here. Moreover, she moves the kingdom away from the formulaic betrothal process it’s historically embraced. Throughout the course of the movie, Elinor does change: Given a new perspective, she’s able to see Merida not as merely a flawed project but as a growing, confident young woman-more capable and mature than she had imagined. But while Merida may think her mother’s a beast, and Elinor might consider Merida a brat, there are no villains here: only two strong, caring and (might as well say it) brave women who, in spite of their differences, love each other very much. Merida and Elinor’s difficult, complex relationship lies at the very soul of Brave. Pixar’s stories are rooted in relationships, and the studio manages to examine even the most fractious with honesty, sensitivity and grace. We’ve come to expect a lot from Disney’s brilliant animated adjunct, Pixar-beautiful art, great comedy and, most of all, fantastic storytelling. When the witch tries to sell Merida a bit of her handiwork, the princess suggests a different deal: I’ll buy all your woodstuffs if you sell me a spell. The argument grows uglier, and Merida flees from the castle with her face as red as her lashes, tears streaming down her cheeks … as she finds herself in the cottage of an old, mysterious witch with a passion for woodcarving. Back in the castle, she slices through a tapestry depicting her family-severing Elinor from Merida’s side. In a breathtaking moment of rebellion, she competes for her own hand and wins it, enraging the lords and infuriating the queen. She’s to be the grand prize in an archery contest, and whatever union results won’t be of love, but of duty-duty to the clans and the kingdom. And not to the kilted boy next door, either, but to the son of one of the kingdom’s three fractious lords. That she’s imprisoned in a world of her mom’s making.Īnd now the final lock is in place: Elinor’s marrying Merida off. The lessons are relentless, and with each new rule, familiar scold and look of disappointment Elinor piles on, Merida feels as if her life’s not her own. “A princess strives for, well, perfection,” Elinor tells her. She teaches her lute-playing and schools her in the kingdom’s history and geography.

#Brave movie how to

Practically every day, Elinor trains Merida in the finer points of ladyship: how to stand, how to eat, how to talk, how to walk. And Princess Merida-a headstrong young lass with a spirit as fiery as her own unruly hair? Her mother wants her to grow up to be … a bride. In Tangled, Rapunzel’s wanted to comb the ever-loving life out of her hair. Snow White’s stepmother wanted to kill her. 1080p.To be a Disney princess is to have mommy issues.

#Brave movie movie

brave 2012 script brave (2012) video brave (2012) imdb Brave (2012) cast and crew credits including actors actresses directors writers and more. Tuesday 8:15 PM UTC “Brave”: Pixar’s feminist fantasy A Scottish redhead fights the patriarchy (and her mom) in We started Brave Girls Club over six years ago at a time when all we had was a bunch of wild ideas a king-sized dream and an excitement to get to work.

#Brave movie 1080p

See the Scotland's landscapes and legends on the big screen then come and experience Scotland for real! Brave (2012) …review and/or viewer comments brave (2012) 1080p Pixar brave 2012 merida brave 2012 ending fandub brave (2012 film) brave 2012 wikia Letters of Note is an attempt to gather and sort fascinating letters postcards telegrams faxes and memos. GenVideos brave 2012 poster brave 2012 full Brave (2012)ĭisney Screencaps Find out about 'Brave' Disney Pixar's new movie.

#Brave movie

[howtofightwrite]

The Problems With Being Defensive

Um, sorry..I did kinda mean to be a bit defensive due to your posts about impractical attire. I was afraid you’d think I was purposely going for putting characters in nice skirts/dress and fight and it being impractical and respond as you would someone for giving characters boob plate armour or something. So, I was simply reassuring you that no, I’m not trying to use improper fighting attire, just how they’re dressed.

You don’t need to apologize, but it is something you want to be conscious of, and careful about. When you get defensive over your work, you’re letting everyone know that there’s a problem with it, and you’re not confidant about it. It can also mean, you don’t get an answer to the question you’re looking for.

Without going back and reviewing every post we’ve written on impractical attire, I’m pretty sure the general thrust was a condemnation of authors objectifying, and sexing up, their characters. For example: putting fighters in stiletto heels. This can come from someone genuinely not understanding that clothes can impair a character’s ability to fight, or it can be from someone who prioritizes sex appeal over functionality.

The thing is, (hopefully) neither of these apply to you. So, there was no reason to get defensive, though I can certainly understand the anxiety.

There’s two major reasons I caution against this.

First, it is a cue that you’re worried (consciously or not) that there’s a weakness in your material. When you put material out there, you will be attacked. Anything you write, which draws attention, will draw criticism. When you’re dealing with people who simply want to tear you down, that defensiveness is practically a dinner bell.

That’s why I advised you to get ahead of the potential criticism. If you realize you feel defensive about a point, make sure you identify why, and close off those potential attacks.

When you’re writing, and expect to receive push back, it’s a good idea to think about the kinds of arguments you expect. You can actually see that behavior in many of my posts. I’ll frequently take a second to carve out exceptions, or preemptively cut off counter arguments, that I expect someone to raise. In many cases, I am already controlling the kinds of critique I can receive.

For example, if you were worried about being attacked for your characters dressing inappropriately, you could have written:

How would wearing a dress or skirt hinder combat? My characters are attending a formal event when they’re ambushed.

It’s a small difference, but it has a huge effect on how the question is perceived. If you were worried about what I thought of you, then it addresses that fear, and it also explains exactly what you’re looking for, with more detail than the original question offered.

It’s not incredibly important, but a “this/that” structure can also be a nervous tick. It’s probably better to write, “this or that,” or, just commit to a specific term. Slashing can be useful in rare situations, and it’s not something most readers will pick up on (unless you overuse it), but commit to a word. (This may go out the window during drafting, when you’re trying out multiple words and haven’t settled on one. At that point it would be entirely reasonable to write down any alternative you want to play with, before you commit. But, don’t show that to someone else.)

This is the second reason that getting defensive, even preemptively, can be a problem. You’re focusing on one issue, and, that cut off useful information. If you’d said the context of your character being in a dress or skirt was a formal event, I would have focused on how formal attire frequently interferes with movement, how it’s often better to simply abandon high heels, than continue to fight in them, and how, men’s formal attire restricts movement as well. I may have spent some time discussing how fighting in formal garb will probably damage it. Instead I talked about kilts, which probably wasn’t that useful for you.

You will find people who will attack you, and your work. There’s no escaping that. When that happens, it’s important to remember that they have no power over you. Their, “criticism,” doesn’t invalidate your work.

It’s also a good practice to become aware of things you’re sensitive about in your work, as a diagnostic tool. If criticism of something bothers you, there might be a problem there, and you may want to focus on shoring it up (however that works out.) Remember that your goal, as a writer, is to communicate clearly and efficiently; everything after that is style and poetry. There’s no place for, “but, you don’t understand,” make your reader understand the first time.

Have confidence in your work. I know this can be harder than it sounds, but when you believe in it, it shows.

-Starke

This blog is supported through Patreon. If you enjoy our content, please consider becoming a Patron. Every contribution helps keep us online, and writing. If you already are a Patron, thank you, and come join us on Discord.

The Problems With Being Defensive was originally published on How to Fight Write.

#fightwrite answers #Starke answers #writing advice #writing reference #writing tips

[kimyoonmiauthor]

How to defeat transphobes quickly.

Phase I: Transphobia was created by the Patriarchy, like misogyny was.

The main two books to do this with is:

The Creation of Patriarchy by Gerda Lerner

Caliban and the Witch: Women, the Body and Primitive Accumulation by Silvia Federici.

And this is dead easy to support.

See transphobe’s heads explode. You see, if you haven’t read my profile I majored in Anthropology and concentrated it in systems. That’s sexism, ableism, anti-LGBTQIA, etc. Granted, I was interested in it in kindergarten after getting bullied and getting insufficient answers.

So limited land and men’s need for prestige caused men to try to find reasons to try to take land from women. But in order to define what women were, they needed to create a strict binary. In order to create a strict binary, they had to throw out the existing trans people. (Who, BTW, existed pre-Christian times.)

With needing to own land, then you need someone to work the land. This is where the ableism comes in. Who will inherit the land? Men, but you need to prove your fragile male virility. And will disabled people do who may not be able to work the land? NO. And can you allow your descendants to show they are gay? Eff no. I mean, you need to show off your big D--- and show the equipment work by *gasp* making sure your children reproduce so you have a legacy. --;;

That’s trans down. That’s the disciplining of women. That’s the disciplining of LGB. And then intersex. Obviously you, great patriarchal male is going to called someone intersex “disabled.” And now disabled.

OK. Racism, comes also from land owning. You have to look at Moors and Mongols for that one. OMG, it’s more misogyny. Can’t have women having those dirty Moor or Mongol babies.

BTW, I’m not saying that the systems act the same CURRENTLY, but I am saying the root of the problem is exactly the same. Stupid ass male fragility And Boy do I have historical examples.

The history of anti-LGBTQIA and anti-women are tied CLOSELY in history. The downfall of one always comes with the downfall of the other. Should we start listing historical events?

Korea: Imjin War--Downfall of women and LGBTQIA

Early Christianity was disciplined: Downfall of women and LGBTQIA

China: (every time they’ve done it historically and in contemporary times.) Discipline women and LGBTQIA

Imperialism spread the hatred into other regions... Notably India, Australia, New Zealand, and the Americas. What happened? Europeans disciplined women and LGBTQIA.

The binary was made to suppress women, but in doing so, they also suppressed everyone else.

What happens is either the transphobe gets so upset they block you, because they realize on some level the root of their hate has the same origin as hating trans people (and everyone who doesn’t own vast tracks of land they plan to give to super privileged sons)... thus they are hating themselves, or they go into a ranty fest trying to attack you, because they can’t attack two cishet white women on their theses that are widely accepted by academia.

Phase II: You’re being Eurocentric Racist.

Also, you can all them racist since they refuse to recognize third genders from other locales. Such as: Indonesia, Bugis, India, Thailand, Angola, Kenya, Plain Indians, etc.

If they start with “But clothes” you can ask them the difference between a robe and a dress. All the dictionaries say a dress is what a woman wears. There is no difference. And Hula skirts, sarongs, kilts, etc are skirts.

Heels were invented for horseback riding, so men should be wearing them.

And pants are for horseback riding.

Lace was originally a prestige item for men.

Eyeliner were the original sunglasses.

So anything women have worn, men have too. Calling out my PoC transphobes. This works well when you point out such notions came from white imperialism. Usually you can find third genders in their country of origin and argue about how much transphobes hate their definition of gender.

Phase III: The Biological Argument. I think this is easy. Scientific American, Nature, the DSM VI, Psychology Today, Anthropology, don’t back them. As soon as you point out there are XXY humans and humans who don’t have their expressed gender by chromosomes, they start flipping out and sputtering. They don’t have much left because the reputable magazines have turned against them.

They might pull out the “Disability” argument and “the majority”

Then you ask them what if the person is born with both? Which also happens. Persistent Müllerian duct syndrome. What are they,then they pull out the chromosome argument... Swyer syndrome Klinefelter syndrome and present to them the weird world of biology that doesn’t care for human rules. Culture exists to create rules about nature that nature always overturns. One less Chromosome: nature is like, sure-- let’s try that. Turner syndrome.

When they get to “They should not exist” in their argument you hit them with the Eugenics questions. Do you support Hitler? Hitler’s Germany who supported positions like sterilization... https://www.jstor.org/stable/4397988 Phase IV: Their feminism is behind and dates to the 1960′s Second wave White feminism.

At this point since they can’t argue about statistics... say the whole bathroom argument: https://www.wcnc.com/article/news/politics/stats-show-assaults-dont-happen-in-bathrooms/275-126572739

https://www.cnn.com/2019/05/06/health/trans-teens-bathroom-policies-sexual-assault-study/index.html

Also numbers from RAINN: https://www.rainn.org/articles/lgbtq-survivors-sexual-violence

Or the Sports argument: https://www.aclu.org/news/lgbtq-rights/four-myths-about-trans-athletes-debunked/

And then hit them with: Is this the biggest concern that feminists have?

They will try to hit you with, “You don’t care about women” argument. And this is where you hit them really hard. Argue along the lines their feminism is out of date, is filled with ignorance about the creation of the Patriarchy they are trying to dismantle, and only dates from the 1960′s, and so who doesn’t care about women, you or them? Women moved on, you can argue. There was Third wave feminism: Which argued for the inclusion of LGBT, intersectionality and PoCs. Also lead by black women, including Black transwomen. Stonewall was started by black trans women and black lesbians TOGETHER. So are they saying the activism that black women did was irrelevant and they prefer white feminism and global impacts?

There is Fourth wave feminism, which included masculine fragility, Asking about how to talk through flexibility for boys which would solve a lot of the issues from the binary they are so paranoid about coming from trans people, rather than directing it towards the aggressors and solving the problems with masculine fragility in the first place.

Arguing this will make them really upset, because by this point, no arguments are left. They can’t name call you, you’ve laid out facts about their transphobia supporting the Patriarchy, and said their feminism is behind, and that their statistical basis is wrong. They got nowhere to go except try to find ways to attack you, such as “you weren’t listening to me at all.” or personal attacks, in which case.... Phase VII: Psychology. The last bit you should know is most transphobes don’t seem to have hobbies outside of social media. And they are looking for peer adulation, so don’t care abut correct facts. Most of them on twitter are unemployed, come off slightly antisocial, and don’t seem to have other social skills. A lot of them, flip out when you disappear for a few seconds, a few hours, go off and do a job. And the ones that defend She-who-should-not-be-named, don’t seem to be familiar with any of her work or writings. So ask them the following: Do you have a job? Don’t you have hobbies? You don’t have face to face people you can talk to that like you? And a lot of them will go poof, the other percentage will accuse you of not having the same, in which case you can assert you do, and they should work on that and if they need help, you know that therapy is available to help with such things. And I haven’t found a single one *yet* that can fire back. The amount of posts and retweets, etc is always screaming they don’t do anything else besides social media. They don’t have better things to do. They want peer approval and attention, so shine a light on their weakness. Asserting you have time outside of social media works.

Conclusion: Personal attacks? Report them.

That said, if people are going to hate, they are going to hate anyway. But at least inform them their hate comes from something they don’t own: Vast tracts of land to be passed down to mostly white cishet abled men. Hate is so uncreative and generally has the same origin. If we could only cure male fragility.

The reason they hate is because hate feels like control, but as the old saying goes, hate can consume you. And the more that you try to feel control through hate, the more you try to find you lose control, and thus hate more. And then you come back to hating yourself and your own in spectacular fashion. Hate also tries to punch at the weakest people because it is not brave. Can’t punch at men? Punch at trans people. Usually transphobes try to bait people in order to exhaust them. In which case, bait them back to let them spout their full transphobia. Don’t be transphobic, just set the trap, so you can hit that report button and let the platform ban them. I did say I read the Art of War several times and Machiavelli’s The Prince several times.

#trans #transphobes

[hiswhiteknight]

Unbelievably Outlandish– Part 2

Summary:  Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 1600

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start

               “The firebird is broke, Davy,” you mumbled. Your brain was vibrating, your mind was whizzing about with voices and slight colors.

               There were voices all around you, “The lass is waking up,” someone said.

               “This isn’t just a bad dream,” you opened your eyes, the images of blurred bodies started to come clearer. Bunch of men were huddled around a little room. With the vision of kilts, you concluded they were the Scottish rebels the Captain was looking for, “Can you guys lower your voices, I believe I have a concussion and your ramblings are really not helping.”

               “Who are you,” someone questions.

               “What is a concussion?”

               “Where are we,” you said trying to completely understand your surroundings.

               “We ask the questions here,” another voice said, “What’s your name and where you from?”

               You were too exhausted to fight back and too confused to make clear arguments, your head was just fog, “Y/N O’Mulligain and the colonies,” it was all you could say.

               A nervous chuckle came over the group, “An Irish woman from colonies?” They were having trouble with the notion of an Irish person living in the colonies at this time. You were not sure of the facts, but having clear thoughts was a struggle at this point, “Why are you here?”

               You rubbed your head, trying not to chuckle at the realization of your current reality. You rolled your eyes, laughing while thinking of the woman you last saw before this moment, “Adventure.”

               “No,” someone yelled. You winced with the sound, “Ya should have seen the girl. She battled Captain Randall, she knocked him out. I’m not sure what she is, or who, but I bet my best shirt she isn’t a spy.”

               “It doesn’t matter,” another voice said, “Randall is going to be looking for us. We need to go, we need to get Jamie out of here before-.”

               Another voice spoke up, “Why don’t we leave the witch, Randall might want her more since she beat him? Slow him down.”

               “No,” another voice yelled, wincing. By the sound he was making, he was in some pain, “We are not about leaving another person to the British.”

               “Jamie, how bad is it? Can you ride,” your vision was coming to. I didn’t know the story of Outlander, but you got the guise this guy was the Jamie that supposedly was more dreamy than Mr. Darcy, which you knew was to be completely impossible.

               You still haven’t gotten your vision focused and the room was lit only by fire near the chimney, “Hurts sitting still, couldn’t manage a horse.”

               From what you could gauge, his shoulder was dislocated, “We got to put it back.”

               All the man group around this man, they were just going to pull his shoulder up with force. You started to laugh, “You are all so dumb,” you laughed again, with them all turning to you, “You’re going to be breaking the man’s arm like that.”

               You tried to stand, still using the chair for balancing, “What do you know of it? You a healer?”

               Shaking your head, “No, my brother used to get injured every other day. I had to learn how to take care of his countless injuries.”

You started to walk up to the man known as Jamie. When you saw him with fresh eyes you could feel your cheeks blush. He truly was a man fit to his description, what a Greek god. Everyone just looked at you in confusion and distrust, looking like they had no idea what you were saying, “May I,” I push into the group, asking the red head if it was alright to help him with this injury.

               He nodded, “This is going to hurt,” you hit one of the guys shoulders, pointing at this Jamie character, “You’ll need to hold him down.” The men steadied him, “Jamie is it,” you ask gently. He nodded quickly, “This is going to hurt, I mean really hurt.” He nodded understanding what had to be done, “I’ll go on the count of three.” He took a deep breathe, you moved his arm into the right place, “One,” before you could get to two you snapped it back in place.

               Jamie grunted, but instantly looked relieved, “Thought you said on three,” he looked up at you.

               “Just an old trick, I didn’t want you to be thinking of the pain,” you shrugged, rubbing your arms together as you crossed them, “I’m sorry,” looking down at you feet become instantly shy all over again. You not really good with strangers unless your professional life needed it. You whispered, “You just got to keep off the shoulder, massage, and heat will help. Does anyone have a belt or cloth?”

               The man in charged looked to another man and demanded a belt. You slipped it around his body trying not to get into your own brain about this situation. Not only were you out of your comfort zone, but you were out of anything you’ve ever known. Jamie nodded, watching you closely, “Let’s get the horses, we’ve got to go.”

               “I’ll let you guys go, I’ll just be on my way back,” you started, but your arm was grabbed and spun around.

               “You’re coming with us mistress, until we get some more answers.”

               “You aren’t the boss of me, mister,” you said back to him.

               “More like prisoner,” he answered, smiling, “Jamie, you’ll ride with the spy.”

               “I’m not a spy,” you yell back, “I’m just a woman, taking an innocent stroll through the very lovely forest of Scotland.”

               “A regular lady, in pants. Sure,” one guy laughed at you.

               The man in charged approached you, gripping your arm harshly. It took you ever once of your control not to swing around and smash him right in the jaw, “You stay close by us, try anything and I’ll slit your throat.” You stopped breathing for the second, “Come on, give me your foot,” the grumpy guy barked at me.

You gripped Jamie’s hand and mounted the horse, “Haven’t you ridden a horse,” he whispered after feeling your fidgeting.  You shook your head ‘no’ quickly. Being on this horse with this man felt so intimate and it didn’t help it was raining. You didn’t have much clothing for this weather, and you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. Jamie started to make motions from behind you, “Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing,” you harshly whisper back to him.

“You’re shivering,” he stated, “Seeing if my plaid loose can help cover you lass.”

“I’m not cold, I’m from Pennsylvania we have harsher winters than this,” you said more to yourself than him, “This is just spritzing,” you motion to the rain.

“I’m not sure what any of that means, but,” he chuckled, his breath tickling your neck, “You are shaking so hard you’re making my teeth chatter,” he chuckled again, especially when you helped him wrap it around your waist.

Turning around, slightly bumping his shoulder you ask, “We are going to ride till sunrise?”

“Probably the next as well,” he grinned again.

You rolled your eyes, you had to start formulating a plan to get back to those damn rocks, and hoping they worked once again.

                 You woke to the sun beaming down, you were not sure when you fell asleep. The sun was up and shining, it was beautiful and felt so good to be out of the rain, “Sleep well,” Jamie asked something from behind.

               Forgetting he was almost there, you pulled forward. Honestly, his warm felt so nice, which is probably why you fell asleep so easily, “How long have I been sleeping?”

               Someone rode past, saying something in Gaelic and chuckling with the group. You proceeded to flip him off, which you instantly forgot they had no idea the gesture, “Just a few hours. You haven’t missed anything.”

               You nodded, looking around you. Scotland was for sure dense and you could walk for days and only see one person, but it felt weird to let your guard down. Redcoats were all about this area at this time and place, “Shouldn’t you be worrying about the British raids? I would imagine they’d be rustling about this area,” you said to him. He chuckled but didn’t answer. Your eyes were drawn to this rocky mountain in the distance, “That out there, it looks like a-?”

               “Back of a cock’s tail. Aye, Cocknammon Rock.”

               Turning to look back at him. You were trying to remember what your friend had said about the books and the show, “I am serious. Don’t you find it strange we haven’t heard anything from the redcoats?”

               He watched you carefully, not knowing where you were going with this conversation, “What do you mean?”

               Turning back to look at him better, “The locals know the area better than anyone, but still the redcoats catch outlaws and rob villagers,” he still looked confused. “That up there, that high point is most likely where some redcoats watch, for the vantage point of seeing travelers down here.”

               He looked down in thought for a second, before nodding, “That’s a bonnie place for an ambush right enough,” he quickened up to the front, “Dougal.”

               They started to speak in what you imagined to be Gaelic and you could imagine they were talking about how suspicious your account was and whether it could be good information or not. The man named Dougal leaned into whisper to you, “You’ll be telling me how you come to know there’s an ambush up ahead.”

               “I just do,” you answered quickly, “I have military experience and I’m telling you – the odds are high that there is an ambush ahead.”

               Staring deeply at you, “You’ll be explaining more when we get back?”

               “Get back? What do you-,” Dougal yelled something in Gaelic and you were met with the loss of my breath.

               Jamie looked down at you, “Hide and don’t be going far.”

PART 3 

#jamie fraser imagine #jamie frazier x reader #jamie fraser #jamie fraser imagines #outlander imagine #outlander fanfiction #outlander

[grettiwrites]

Thoughts as I watch 5x12 below the cut.

@refinedbuffoonery and @ladyigraineofhistory you wanted to know what I thought!

1. Oh Mac, Desi with some home truths here.... so pleased we are actually getting to see these two TALK about stuff.

2. Oooo, engaged before... bloody Matty, always interrupting the good stuff!

3. Where has the war room gone? Not loving the basement.

4. Love Mac and Desi‘s several reactions to the mission.

5. Mac speaking Dutch ❤️

6. ‘Owner veto’ oh Russ 😂

7. Mac and cocktails 🍸

8. Uh-oh, Sophia’s here.

9. Mac like a dog with a bone. Stop bringing stuff up on missions. Foot in mouth. Also, why assume she’s the one that broke it off.

10. Russ running in a kilt. I do hope he’s not got full Scotsman underneath.

11. Surely it’s obvious they just saved the Princess!

12. Handcuffs 😀

13. Mac 🤦‍♀️ your feet. Really. You’re a spy, you doofus.

14. Hmmm Russ obviously doesn’t know about Sophia finding his secret room.

15. Oooo, damn. Russ called you out Mac.

16. I like Desi having a chat with the Princess. It’s comfortable.

17. The Princess’ outfit is absolutely stunning. In fact, production design generally is stunning.

18. I choose to believe Riley is telling the truth re mentoring the girls. Nice extra curricular activity.

19. Ahh Desi 😢 character development ❤️ emotional stand in - ouch. I can see why Mac is a bit hurt but he’s mature about it.

20. Don’t have much sympathy for Sophia, got to be honest. Be interesting to see if this side story goes anywhere, you would think it’s going to or it’s a waste of time.

21. Russ and his out of tune drums 😂😂

22. SO MANY GOOD COSTUMES.

23. Mac makes a good argument for moving in together. The small moments, off mission. That’s what’s going to build this relationship if it’s going to work.

24. Bozer dancing 😀

25. Ok, the lighting, the slightly dodgy location make it seem like Riley is up to no good. I’ll reserve judgement. I don’t think she’s bad though.

Overall a good episode, lots of nice character development. Bit more back story for Desi which is nice. She’s always been one to keep her cards close to her chest. I’m interested to see what happens as they move in together.

Riley’s Artemis arc is gonna be an interesting one.

I miss Matty being there in person but I have to admit I like Bozer in this role of running ops. Still don’t see enough of him though! We also need more Parker.

#macgyver #season 5 #macgyver spoilers #macgyver 5x12 #just some random thoughts

[badfauxmance]

This is a long freaking rant but the people defending Adele won't seem to go away on my feed lol. One of the biggest problems about CA is that most people refuse to use their brain and can't be bothered to stop for a moment to actually try to understand what's wrong with it because the people who thinks CA is a load of bull doesn't get it at all and it shows. They think that people are offended simply because some person is 'stealing' other people's culture so they go around throwing their 'it's cultural appreciation' bullshit and make stupid ass arguments like 'a lot of POC die their hair blonde but we don't get offended' and 'We Scots don't get offended when people wear kilts' as if being blonde is a culture. You can't call it cultural appreciation if you don't even fucking know the history and signifance of the aspect of culture you're trying to take, because that's literally the definition of cultural appreciation, you're supposed to learn and understand the culture. If you truly appreciate the culture and want to adapt it so bad, then study it so you don't misuse/misrepresent it. Take those Covidiots and their idiotic "themed parties" as an example, if they took a moment to use their brains for once and tried to do a research about Native Americans, they would have known that they were not supposed to wear war bonnets because permission from tribe leaders is actually required if you want to wear them because it is symbolic and only meant for elders/ highly respectable members of the tribe.

In addition to this, people's real issue with cultural appropriation is when other people, most especially whites ---who are privileged and are mainly the reason why racism is proliferate --- takes an aspect of their culture while they just stand there as BIPOC suffers through discrimination and racial injustice. I mean, white people are so quick to make stereotypical asian jokes, discriminate muslims, belittle indigenous people, call BLM overrated and so on yet they all indulge in the culture, fashion, cuisine, etc+ of the very same people they dehumanize. Are they aware that when actual black people/native americans/asians/etc+ wear braids, kimonos and such, they get mocked for it? Kids literally get pulled out of class and people get suspended/fired from work just because of their hairstyles. It doesn't matter if a lot of Jamaicans wasn't offended by it, stop defending her, she doesn't want and need it because she herself understood what was wrong with it and regardless of that, cultural appropriation is still a thing.

You are 100% right in everything you said. I don’t know how people feel they can defend something like cultural appropriation.

It all come down to many white people not caring how their actions affect other people. Because it was not discussed in the past it was “ok”, but it wasn’t. It was discussed in the past because the cultures that were appropriated weren’t given the opportunity to voice their upset. Today is a whole different ball game.

People need to just respect other people. That’s really what it comes down to. Respect each other for our differences. If you want to learn more about a culture, ask questions, do research as you said. Don’t just do something because it looks cool.

[marvella15]

Astaire & Rogers Rewatch Part 10: The Barkleys of Broadway

• So here’s the story. Fred Astaire tried to retire. He’d been performing his entire life and he was ready to finally retire. In 1946, he did Blue Skies, which was meant to be his farewell picture. Then two years went by. Meanwhile, Gene Kelly was on the rise. He was booked to do a film with Judy Garland. Then he broke his ankle. 

Kelly was extremely competitive and he and his wife often hosted volleyball games at their house. He either broke his ankle while playing or, as one story goes, he was so mad at having lost, he stamped his foot on the doorstep and injured himself. 

• Kelly couldn’t do Easter Parade with Garland. So he called up Astaire and basically was like, please help me. Astaire agreed and had such a fabulous time with Garland and the film was such a success that the studio immediately wanted to pair them up again. But then, Garland’s health precluded her from doing The Barkleys of Broadway. 

• So Astaire called up Ginger Rogers and said, hey how about we reunite for the first time on screen in ten years? And although she’d essentially stopped doing musicals at all, she agreed. And so we have The Barkleys of Broadway as the final Astaire/Rogers film and their only one in color.

• Our characters/actor: Josh Barkley (Fred Astaire), Dinah Barkley (Ginger Rogers), Ezra Miller (Oscar Levant), Jacques Barredout (Jacques François)

• Right off the bat, this movie makes a dumb decision. They put the credits over Astaire and Rogers dancing. (You can see this routine minus the credits as part of That’s Entertainment 3.)

• One of the critiques of this film is that Rogers was no longer the lithe young dancer from her and Astaire’s heyday. And to that I say: shut up. Heaven forbid she have, quite frankly, a healthier and stronger look to her than she did ten years prior when she was working herself to the bone and routinely losing 10-15 pounds from all of the dancing. I support her healthier look, lifestyle, and the ice cream she was surely enjoying from her custom home bar. 

• The main tension of the story is that Josh is essentially credited with all of Dinah’s success because he “made her what she was.” This was a real-life argument reporters of the day made about the Astaire/Rogers partnership, casting her as the brainless actress whom Astaire molded into the perfect dance partner. Which is incorrect in every sense, as we’ve seen in these past nine films.

The bickering between the Barkleys is also likely poking fun at another frequent and false report about Astaire and Rogers, which is that they hated each other and regularly fought while making their films. They had their squabbles, of course, such as the feather dress affair, but from all first-hand accounts, they got along extremely well and spent most of their time during rehearsal and filming having an incredible amount of fun. 

• I adore how they cuddle up in the car. There’s so little physical affection in Astaire/Rogers films outside of the dancing that every moment of it feels like a treat. It’s slightly ruined by a rough cut, which includes the magical appearance of a lit cigarette in Josh’s hand. 

• Josh doesn’t fight fair at all. While Dinah insists on knowing what “detail” wasn’t perfect in the show, Josh doesn’t allow her to respond to his criticism. So she’s left simply to stew in anger and hurt feelings. 

He does apologize to her soon after and they seem to make up. But as we know, the same issues will resurface again and again for them because if you don’t ever have a fair, honest conversation about your problems, they don’t ever go away. 

• I have to point out how Astaire looks at her adoringly after Josh’s apology. I also love the way she hooks her fingers into the lapels of his suit. It’s a small gesture of affection only borne out of being comfortable with someone. I’d be surprised to learn that action was in the script. 

• See, when you don’t have an actual conversation with your partner you end up freezing and starving out on the balcony at a party while a snobby, elitist playwright gives them the attention and thoughtful feedback they crave. 

• Oscar Levant always plays a version of himself in every film and he does a great job of it. When you can play piano that well, there’s no need to do a lot of heavy lifting in your acting.

• Astaire and Rogers do a really fabulous job of portraying a married couple famous for their dancing but who are also major drama queens. For example, this line from Josh, “What with walking pneumonia and concussion a fine performance I’ll give tomorrow night.”

• Some light domestic violence humor here in 1949. 😒

• Dinah hums in pleasure after Josh surprises her with a kiss and I just can’t say for sure whether that’s acting or not…

• "You'd Be Hard to Replace" is another lovely song that I really enjoy hearing Astaire sing. I also really like how Rogers caresses his elbow when they hold each other’s arms. When he wraps her in his arms from behind, their hands knead one another’s. 

They kiss again at the end of this song. There are so, so many kisses in this movie. 

• "Bouncin' the Blues" is a great tap number and they both look excellent in it. The only thing that I find a tad grating is Astaire’s exclamations, which seem too manufactured (maybe because some of them are dubbed in?). Far better is the moment when they reach out to link hands and both look like they’re having a blast. For that instant, there’s a hint of that special Astaire/Rogers magic. 

• The artwork in tribute to Josh and Dinah is atrocious, misogynistic, and rude. The artist calls her a ball of shapeless dough only formed into being by her husband, the frying pan. 

• "My One and Only Highland Fling" is… an interesting choice. Was anyone looking for Astaire and Rogers to sing in Scottish accents or dance in kilts?? The kisses on the cheek are cute though and so is their interaction after the number in their dressing room.

• They look pretty fab while playing tennis during their weekend in the country. When they make plans to meet up for dinner, they say goodbye with kisses on the cheek. To me, those natural moments between them are the best parts of the movie. 

• Omg I totally forgot about the part where Dinah pretends to be faint so Josh sends Ezra to bring her some brandy and Ezra returns with the ENTIRE drink tray with four massive bottles and glasses hahahaha

• Not to be outdone, Dinah hurriedly correcting Josh when he thinks she’s faint because she’s pregnant is also hilarious.

• Dinah does the worst possible job hiding her script from Josh. He’s angry for a lot of reasons but the note from Jacques, which implies an ongoing secret relationship between him and Dinah, is what really ticks Josh off. 

• "Shoes with Wings On" is another example of Astaire’s continued interest in special effects. Green screen technology was used to make the shoes appear to dance on their own. The finished product was one of Astaire’s enduring creations and probably what The Barkleys of Broadway is best known for outside of being a reunion picture for Astaire and Rogers. He does a convincing job of making it seem as though his shoes are dancing despite his own ability or effort. 

• Unsurprisingly, Jacques is revealed to be an even bigger pompous dick as a director than he’s been on social occasions. It’s also even more glaringly obvious that his intention the whole time has not been solely to nurture Dinah’s dramatic career but to steal her away from her husband.

 • It was Rogers’ idea to have them dance to "They Can't Take That Away From Me" rather than a new original piece. Astaire didn’t like repeating himself, and that included songs from previous films, but he made an exception. It’s a nice dance and is certainly the closest thing this film has to offer of the OG Astaire and Rogers duets. But as I said in my Shall We Dance rewatch, it’s just not the same as if they’d danced to this song the first time around.

The use of the song made sense since Ira Gershwin was the lyricist for The Barkleys of Broadway. 

• Considering it’s 1949, Dinah does a remarkable job of standing up for herself and getting to the root of the couple’s issues. He’s been taking her for granted and stifling her own creative interests and she’s been smothering her frustrations as best she can but they hit the breaking point. Something needs to change or their relationship can’t continue. But that doesn’t mean she’s happy about it.

• Dinah’s terrible acting in the play had to HAD TO be intentional on someone’s part but I can’t for the life of me think who or why. 

• Love and support are what we all want from our partners. Dinah is still in love with Josh but it’s only once she knows that Josh has been helping her despite the fact that she ended their relationship and it didn’t benefit him at all that she goes back to him. Though, she does also take a bit of pleasure in making him agonize a little while.

I like the little whistle she does upon entering their apartment. It must be something they did to alert the other they’d come home. Wish we’d gotten to see it some other time in the movie.

• The truth is, Dinah and Josh enjoy being dramatic together and I get that. When you’re with the right person, it’s fun to play around. 

• "Manhattan Down Beat" is wasted as an ending song. It could’ve been a good lively number, perhaps instead of "My One and Only Highland Fling.” I’d say that Astaire was just trying to avoid being in a top hat and tails more than necessary but he also reportedly hated being in silly costumes like the Scottish getup so 🤷‍♀️

• And that’s how the greatest on-screen dancing partnership ends. The Barkleys of Broadway is a more interesting and somewhat better film than The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle so it functions as a better finale for Astaire and Rogers. While their dancing isn’t quite the same, the chemistry between them is still very evident, which speaks to their enduring personal relationship. But that probably deserves its own post, which is what I’ll do next and how I’ll end this rewatch. 

#fred astaire #ginger rogers #the barkleys of broadway #classic hollywood #old hollywood #astaire and rogers rewatch

[weshallc]

Happy St. Andrew’s Day. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading Bonfire Night! I haven’t put it on the usual fic sites as I knew I would mess about, and Tumblr folk are a patient bunch. I am going to rejig it so it stretches from Bonfire Night to Christmas (probably New Year at this rate) looking back over 2020.

Thank you for the lovely comments and support from @h4t08 @fourteen-teacups @thatginchygal  @bbcshipper @roguesnitch @lovetheturners and new regular @aimee-jessica and @olafur-neal

I really don’t know what I have been doing with my time apart from washing my hands, measuring distances of 2 metres, sewing masks, swearing at the news, collecting Scotch egg and pasty recipes and building a pantry to hoard all my Brexshit preparation supplies.

Enough about me, so as it’s St. Andrew’s Day I thought I might give this another spin. 

BERNS NIGHT (Revisited, just for fun)

Call the Midwife AU (Crown Jewels/Paddy and Bernie/Poplar-on-Tweaven)

CHAPTER ONE: FAIR FA’ YOUR HONEST, SONSIE FACE

“Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o' the pudding-race! Aboon them a' ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm : Weel are ye wordy o'a grace As lang's my arm.”  Address to a Haggis by Robert Burns 1786.

“Will You Reconize me? Call My Name or Walk On By.” Don’t You (Forget About Me). Simple Minds 1985.

Monday 25th January 2016

“His knife see rustic Labour dight, An' cut you up wi' ready sleight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like ony ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm-reekin', rich!”

The room was swept in darkness apart from the light of the wolf moon and the north star penetrating the cold window panes. All eyes were facing towards a wooden table and the elderly man stood behind it. He was in his 60s and wiry, small for a man, but with a silver mess of what once must have been a bonnie head of fire red hair. The body may have looked weak, but the intensity in his bright blue eyes cut through the dimly lit surroundings.

As he spoke again, his voice filled the room, cutting through the anticipating silence. It was a voice that could take a knife and slice right through a soul. The knife in his hand in turn sliced through the offering in front of its high priest. Years of performing the same action with such a passion resulted in precision. The faithful entranced by the spectacle all gasped as one as the incision was violently made. No one daring to speak. Suddenly the trance was lost as artificial light rudely brought everyone back to the present with a blast of the pipes.

“All done then, Reverend Mannion? Can I serve the Haggis now? Don’t want it getting cold now, do we, not at £15 a head.”

“Aye, Violet, the ceremony is over. It’s time for eating and drinking, something the bard would have approved of, rightly so.”

The kilted clergyman winked at an auburn-haired girl in the crowd and tipped his whisky tumbler toward her. She raised her own glass and winked back. Her companion at her table was much taller with dark hair styled in a tidy no-nonsense bob.

The tall one leaned toward the small one and asked, “If it’s already dead, why does he have to kill it?”

“What?”

“The Haggis if it’s already dead, why does he have to kill it?”

Her friend opened her mouth to speak, but she saw a tender hand take hold of Chummy’s arm and explain it was all just ceremony, it was tradition.

“Like all that malarkey at our passing out parade, the day we got our badge. That wasn’t about police work, was it? It’s just tradition.  It’s what the English do well.”

He had been doing really well up until then, but a golden raised eyebrow made him alter his stance. “It is what us Brits do best.”

The raised eyebrow whispered to the police constable. ”Peter, Chummy really doesn’t think a haggis is a real animal, does she?”

He was not the sort of man that would turn heads, but he had a kindness in his eyes and an openness in his face she thought some would see as attractive. If only Camilla wasn’t his superior, and they didn’t work such long hours together, what might have been?

She knew her friend well and sensed more queries would follow. Not sure as a Scot brought up on Tweavenside and now living in London she could provide satisfying answers. Picking up their empty glasses and heading to the bar was a strange sort of refuge for a vicar's daughter and inner-city missionary.

There was a queue, well sort of a queue. In London a queue was made up of people standing in an orderly line and the person who had been stood the longest getting served first. In Poplar-on-Tweaven it resembled more of a rugby scrum and the person who shouted the loudest being ignored, Anyone who called the barmaid by name was bunked up the order. She wasn’t familiar with busy bars, but she was bright enough to work out the system.

“Val, when yer ready hen.” The request came from someone not sure that was their own voice they had just heard yelling those words.

All her life she had been immersed in the wonders of the Bible and was still amazed at how so many miracles had been performed. She had heard all the CPR arguments regarding resurrections and all that, and was still not convinced. But, she now knew how Moses had parted the Red Sea, he had known the barmaid’s name was Valerie.

“What can I get you, chick?”

“Here! I was first.” A grumpy voice struck up.

“Oh Al, you are always first. Let me serve this lass and then I will sort you out”

“Promises, promises.”

“Yeah in your dreams, pal.”

She was starting to feel uncomfortable she hadn’t meant to jump the queue. Maybe she should go back to the table and let Peter get the drinks. A man’s voice interrupted her thoughts, it was quieter than Al’s but held an authority. It wasn’t a Tweavenside accent, but it had a northern softness.

“You serve our impatient friend Valerie, I will see to this young lady.” Then turning to his new customer, “What can I get you, pet”

“Erm a whisky and lemonade and erm a pint, please.”

“Which whisky and a pint of?”

She wasn’t sure; she nudged her bottom onto a vacant stool for security.

“Are you with the law?” The tall bartender nodded towards Chummy and Peter,

“Yes, yes, I am.”

“OK, so that’s a Grouse and diet lemonade, just a dash and a pint of Buckles Best and for you?”

He stepped back a minute. “Your Reverend Wilf’s daughter?”

“Yes, I am.” Bernie suddenly felt more sure of herself. She was never completely certain of who she was when back in Poplar.

“Bernadette?” The stranger was grinning now, his brown eyes glinting under the harsh bar spotlights, or were they green?

“Well, that’s my Sunday name most people call me Bernie, even Dad.”

“Well, since I’ve never seen you in here on a Sunday or any other day. I will call you Bernie. I am Patrick Turner, most people call me Paddy, a few Doc.”

“Oh no, you won’t have seen me here on a Sunday or any other day. I live in London now and before that, well, I am not a big drinker.”

“What can I get you then?” asked Paddy loitering near the coke and lemonade pumps.

“A gin and tonic please, better make it a double it’s quite busy, save me coming back.”

Paddy smiled. “Premium gin?”

“Yes.”

While the optic was emptying into the glass, he asked, “You must have known this old place when Evie ran it?”

“Yes, I know Evie and J..Jenny”

“Oh yes. Jen was here when the wife and I took over she was a great help. We get a text every now and again, doing well for herself now, all loved up.” He winked at her as he ended the sentence, causing her to panic slightly.

“I was sorry to hear about your loss.” She wished she hadn’t said it.

Val had seemed to deal with ten customers to Paddy’s one, and now there was just the two of them alone at the bar. He looked at her in a sort of a non-direct, sort of direct way. Under that infuriating fringe she wanted to reach out and push back.

“Loss is as much a part of love as is healing,” he replied with a hint of melancholy, but without irony.

She was stunned and tried to find a corresponding Bible verse, but she drew a blank.

She focused on what was real and what was present. Her dad had taught her to do that. What was in front of her at this precise moment was a glass of gin and ice and a twist of lime. He was now unscrewing a bottle of Mediterranean slimline tonic.

She yelped, “No!” as he lay the bottle alongside the glass.

“Sorry most people add the tonic to the gin and I cannae bear it drowned.”

“Wouldn't dream of it, surely that would be very presumptuous of me.”

“Aye well, most people I've met are very presumptuous.”

“Maybe you have spent too much time in London. if you don't mind me saying, Bernie.”

“Well, to be fair, we don’t spend a lot of time sitting on stools and propping up bars in my part of London.”

“More's the pity.”

“Can I bother you for a...”

Paddy popped a black straw into her tumbler.

“I will make sure when you come home next time none of my staff will be presumptuous.”

“Oh, I doubt you will remember me, Paddy. I only come up to see my Da. I can't imagine you will be seeing much of me in the future, hardly likely that I would ever be considered a regular.”

“Now who is being presumptuous?”

Bernie went to put the straw between her lips but paused, realizing the stranger was still watching her. She suddenly felt uncomfortable. As heat rose in her cheeks. She suddenly felt awkward on the stool, squirming to find some sort of comfortable position. The stranger smiled in a way she could not understand; it wasn’t smug or suggestive, but as if there were sharing a joke, but she wasn’t sure what the joke was.

She hopped off her seat, for a brief moment realizing her arse was in the air and prayed he had altered his gaze. Focusing anywhere but behind the bar, she grabbed her glass and bottle in one hand, put the whisky against her elbow and waist, the pint in her other hand, turned and swiftly moved toward her thirsty friends.

Shelagh Bernadette Mannion don’t you dare look back and see if he is watching you he is recently widowed with a son, Da said. He is, what do they call them now, a bloomer or something like that. God has shown you his path for you and it certainly does not include the Crown Inn, Poplar-on-Tweaven.

He is still watching me, I can feel it.

#call the midwife #wee reblog #berns night #chapter one #more to follow llater #as in llama #not alpaca #desk top doesn't do flag emoji #found a saltire #and remembered to add extra song

[coffeeman777]

What do you think of the "Clothes dont have gender" movement? Like I know its a sin to try to be/look like the opposite gender but for example in my case, im a girl but i have never liked feminine clothes like dresses or skirts, i feel more confident and comfortable wearing guys' stuff like hoodies, but i can see someone using that argument too, some boys might feel more comfortable in skirts and so. What should be our position here ?

The only requirements for Christians are that we don't purposefully attempt to look like the opposite sex, and that we dress modestly. That first requirement is culture-specific; in our culture, girls wearing hoodies and pants isn't necessarily unfeminine. And dude wearing a skirt isn't always unmasculine (like dudes with Scottish ancestory wearing kilts). It comes down to the intent of the individual and the signal that's being sent. Does that make sense?

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

Nightmare or Scared To Be Lonely

Quick Tag List: @kuruumiya @spacelizardtrashboys @enigmaticandunstable @nattinngrst @stupidbluegirl

This Passage contains potentially: swearing, violence, blood, angst, whump, fluff and smutty content.

Summary: Kirby addresses a fear that she hasn't felt in a long, long time.

Kirby's POV:

Waking up on the morning of the Twenty-Second, with Roddy's arms wrapped around me was a welcome comfort from what had arisen inside my mind. Thoughts I never dared put to words, I eased myself out of his grasp and did my old morning routine, giving myself a moment to breathe and think through the recent recurring nightmares. It had been at least a year since the last nightmare, twenty years since they started. I thought they had finally stopped, but I was wrong.

Since I was nine, I have had nightmares of being alone in a dark place, usually a forest but sometimes an empty town or city, sometimes even walking through a deep valley. Utterly alone, completely alone, abandoned by everyone except a consistent nagging voice in the back of my mind telling me that I'm not 'normal' enough.

Catching my breath and calming myself down, I look over at Roddy, still asleep on the bed, and I sigh in relief. He's real, he's there, I'm not insane. I look at myself in the mirror, brushing my fingers over the scars on my face and remembering just how I got each of them. I heard a long yawn from the other room as Rod stirred awake, shaking the 'cobwebs' from his mind and I stopped, looking over at him again and smiling in admiration at the rowdy Scot.

"Well, that's a beautiful sight to wake up to," He waved me over, "C'mere baby."

I reached the edge of the bed and Roddy pulled me onto his lap.

"You are so beautiful, don't you ever forget that. I love you, you can tell me anything," He kissed my shoulder, just above the dragon tattoo, "Anything at all."

"Rod" I mumbled, my breathing catching in my throat.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I can tell you anything right, you won't laugh unless it's a joke right?"

"I promise you, I won't laugh at ya."

"What would you do if someone you loved had recurring nightmares?"

"I would try to understand why they keep having them. Why?"

"What would you do if they were scared by them."

"I'd comfort them. What's going on in your head, baby?"

"Rod, I'm scared."

"Why are ya scared?"

"I don't want to be alone. I'm not normal. I'm a fr-"

Rod pulled me into a kiss, pressing his forehead to mine after he pulled away, "You're not a freak. You're my lady and if that makes me a freak for loving you, I don't give a damn. You're stunning and they can all kiss my ass."

"Thank you Roddy, I needed that."

"So, uh, about that Erik guy?"

"What about him?"

"What made you like him?"

"Well, aside from the flaming red hair, the freckles, the green-hazel eyes, the tattoos and his muscles, probably his personality, he made me laugh, he was sweet to me, and he was ballsy enough to wear a kilt and fight in it."

"So, who's better, me or him?" I could hear a twinge of jealousy in his voice.

"Roddy," I whined, "In a different universe, then I'd probably be with him but I'm with you. I will be with you regardless of if this works out or not, for at least the next few years career-wise, and who knows, if this does work out, maybe one day the two of us will have a proper life together. Family. Pets. Kids, maybe. Actually," I stood up and grabbed the keys to my D200, twirling them around my finger for a moment, "I'd actually quite like to have kids one day. That is, of course, if I can have kids."

"Whaddya mean 'if'?"

"Well, I'm a giant, giants have diminished reproductive systems." I muttered out.

"So, uh, hypothetically speaking, if you can have biological kids, if, if ya could, ya know," I looked at his face, his cheeks flush a rosy shade of pink, "Well, if you," he slowed down his words, looking to the ceiling as if asking God above for guidance, "If, you, could, have, bio-log-ical, kids, you, would?"

"Yes Roddy, why was that so hard to ask?"

He rubbed the back of his neck and covered his groin with his other arm, "no reason."

"Jesus, Roddy. If that gets you hot you might end up breeding like a rabbit one of these days."

"With you?" I heard a twinge of optimism in his voice.

"Of course fuckin' not, Jesus, whaddya take me for?" I spluttered out, shocked that he'd even think of me like that, I took a deep breath before explaining myself, "I'm not a very, oh God, uh 'Sexual' being. I don't see the pleasure side of it, I think of sex only through the lens of science."

Rod looked up at me once again, cocking an eyebrow before talking, "Where are ya planning on going?"

"Anywhere with food, wanna come with."

"Actually, before you leave, can I ask you about your family?"

"Sure. What do you want to know?"

"Well, what are they like?"

"Uh, hmm, well, my da's tough, he was raised on a farm and thus is incredibly strong because of his upbringing. My mam on the other hand is like your stereotypical fiery red head when angry but usually she's quiet and peaceful. My da never shuts up, unless he's watching TV, which is when his ears don't work."

Rod's brows knitted together in a confused way, "His ears don't work?"

"As in he shuts everything that isn't the TV out."

"Oh. I see, so your dad shuts the world out when he's watching sports and the like?"

"Exactly, Roddy. Do you want to go get food or not?"

"Well, of course I'm gonna go with ya," he covered his mouth but I could vaguely hear him mumble to himself, "Can't risk other guys trying to get to my lady. No Sir, not her."

I put on my leather jacket, my back to Roddy, unintentionally showing off the Welsh flag painted on the back, once again hearing Rod mumble to himself.

"Where've ya been all my life baby."

"What was that, Roddy?"

"Nothin'," he spluttered out, as if he was shocked that I could hear anything he just said, "Let me drive."

"Rod. It's my D200, I'll drive."

"I know it's your car, but I'm gonna drive us." He said, quickly getting changed into some clean clothes and his usual kilt.

"Why?"

"I wanna treat ya, give you a surprise."

"Ok then, catch." I throw him the keys to the D200 and he catches them in one hand.

We drove out to a small Irish bar and Rod parked nearby.

"This place does the best homecooked fish and chips."

"Oh, really, so they're legit Irish?"

"I think so."

We walked in and the place went silent and I could feel the amount of eyes on the two of us. We got to a small table at the back and ordered full English breakfasts for two.

After a while and several drinks, not one being actually alcoholic, we got up to leave and this meant we had to walk past the main bar.

"Wrestling is fake, you know." one of the drunken idiots slurred out, he had obviously connected the dots of why we looked the way we do.

I bit my lip and tried to control my breathing, Roddy on the other hand…

"What did you say?"

…He was already advancing towards the guy, fists and teeth clenched.

"Rod, we should g-" I stated, trying to keep myself calm.

"NO!" he cut me off, "What did you say?!"

"Wrestlin' is fa-"

Rod's fist silenced the guy with a quick right hook, sending him sprawling on the floor and silencing the rest of the bar patrons.

I dragged Roddy out by wrapping my arms around his midsection and dragging him backwards out of the bar before letting him go.

"That, that fucker."

I got in front of him and pushed him back, away from the bar, "Rod, get in the fucking car before they come out here!" I yelled at him, and holy shit if that didn't set him off.

"I don't give a fuck if they come out here, I'll fucking kill him."

"Rod, let it go."

"No, I will not 'let it go' that fuck needs to be taught a lesson."

"Would you just get in the fucking car?!"

"Would you just fuck off."

"Fine, I will."

I stormed off, Roddy still had the keys to the D200 and I believed I could walk back to the hotel, my mask obscuring my face so people started looking, the fight, the argument and now the fact that people were staring at me. Today can not get any worse.

Oh boy was I wrong, it took two minutes for the rain to start and ten minutes for Rod to pull up in the (or rather, MY) D200. He pulled up and rolled the window down.

"I'm sorry, please get in the car."

"Fuck off, Piper."

"Kirby, baby, get in the car. Please."

I sighed and got in the passenger seat, "Why do you fly off the handle so easily, Rod."

"Why don't you, that fuck was insulting our job, our livelihood."

"Rod," I breathed out a hefty sigh and removed my mask so that my voice wouldn't be muffled, "Rod, I may not have fought the guy but I had to bite my lip and control myself. I had to count to ten in my mind and try not to escalate the situation further. I would have loved to go up to the guy and said 'Hey, the business isn't fake, we do this to feed our kids, but that's the thing Rod. I don't have kids I need to feed, I've been wrestling and working out for so long that I feel like I've forgotten to have a family, or even a life."

The car stopped suddenly and Roddy put his head in his hands, if the car had been any quieter he could have heard the pounding of my heart.

"You're not the only one."

"What do you mean?"

"I think I forgot to have a life. I've been alone and angry at the world for so long that I have forgotten that I'm human, and I need a private life, away from the ring, and for me to have that life, I need someone to share it with. A wife, for example, maybe a couple kids too. Heh, Imagine that, Roderick Piper, family man, forget it."

"Rod?"

"Yeah, Sweetheart?"

"Rod, I don't want to be alone."

"I know, baby."

"Rod?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about storming off earlier. I love you. I don't care how much this makes me sound sappy, but I need you in my life, I need that Scottish fire. Americans are dumb and the British are the British, and well Scots are the fiery, hot blooded warriors that I've grown up knowing but never being around until Erik. God, I just, I want to have a home, Roddy, and a family of my own."

"I wonder what our kids would look like?" He sounded like he had zoned out, but what he was mumbling to himself made me realise he hadn't zoned out, "What would we name them?"

"Rod, what do you think of the name, 'Enfys'?"

"What does that mean?"

"It's Welsh for 'Rainbow'. I'm not suggesting anyone name their child 'rainbow' I just think it sounds pretty."

"Why do Welsh names have to be so weird?"

"I'll walk back to the hotel if you insult my homeland again, boyo."

"All I'm saying is that there's a lot of 'y's and 'u's in Welsh names. Alright, lass."

"Rod, shut up and drive us back to the hotel."

"Make me."

We locked eyes and for a moment I forgot that we had started arguing again, I reached over and stroked Roddy's cheek, now realising that he had gotten himself beaten up again.

"Kirby, don't ge-"

"Why do you always get hurt, Roddy, don't tell me 'don't get upset' when you're beaten and bruised. Rod, drive us back to the hotel so I can patch," my breathing caught in my throat and Rod realised I was about to cry, "Rod, drive us back to the hotel so I can patch you up."

"Anything you say, just, please don't cry."

"Rod, I can't help the fact that seeing the love of my life battered and bruised, my natural instinct as a protective person is to show my sensitive side as I feel like I've failed to keep you safe."

"I failed to keep me safe, after you left I did the idiotic thing and stormed back into the bar, I got myself thrown through a table."

"Roddy, you fucking idiot. I told you it was better to leave without getting yourself hurt. Why didn't you listen?"

"Don't you go pulling the 'I told ya so' technique on me."

"Why not?"

"I've heard it my entire life, that's why."

"Well, maybe if you listened to it once in a whi-"

END OF NIGHTMARE or SCARED TO BE LONELY

#wrestling fic #Lucifarians

[k-s-morgan]

this is the first time i've heard someone say their favorite character is voldemort and their least favorite lily. don't get me wrong, i think tom riddle is an incredibly interesting character, but canonically he was still a psychopath and a mass murderer, while lily was a literal teenage girl that made choices teenagers make all the time (and snape, a person she trusted, called her the worst thing he could've possibly called her so imo she was justified in ending things with him)

Another ask:  I thinks it’s a bit of a stretch to say Snape “needed” to join a fucking genocidal nazi cult to protect himself from James. You can be bullied in school and NOT become a facist. I can see liking his character as flawed but excusing his actions as “oh but he was bullied so it’s actually james and kilts fault he joined a nazi death cult” really rubs me the wrong way.

------------------

Grouping these two asks because they are about discourse. Also, just a warning: I won’t reply to this type of stuff again because I’m primarily a Hannibal blog. I voice my Harry Potter thoughts when asked, but I’m not going to engage in arguments, I’m not really interested.

I think both of you read my reply a bit inattentively. 

Anon 1: I don’t blame Lily for breaking things with Snape - I directly said that it was understandable. I blame her for how she did it - it was awful and as terrible as what Snape told her. I also explained that I don’t have problems with flawed characters, I have problems with those whose flaws are denied. Everyone in the books knows Tom Riddle is terrible. Lily, in turn, is presented only in a positive light, but when we do see her personally, she’s very far from being the heroine she’s described as. 

Anon 2: I don’t excuse Snape’s choices. But it’s also clear that he wasn’t heavily invested in the ideology itself. He was sorted in Slytherin, he was a poor half-blood with no support from home, and he was a target of popular rich boys who remained unpunished even when they almost killed him. While it doesn’t justify his decisions, it’s still understandable why he reached out for people from his House who had power. If he didn’t, he could be targeted from their side, too.  Also, again, Snape paid dearly for his choices. He spent the rest of his life trying to redeem himself. We saw nothing from James or Lily proving that they also acknowledged their mistakes. 

#harry potter #severus snape #tom riddle

[ozkilts]

Why utility kilts are becoming so popular now

The Utility kilt is growing in popularity and fast! When you start the deep dive into why this is so, it doesn’t take long to become an advocate of utility kilts. The Utility is not only utility by name but by nature, there almost isn’t a situation that doesn’t call for one. Let’s talk about why utility kilts are so popular right now and how the team at Ozkilts will change your life.

The Ultimate in Freedom

For years, the debate has raged over boxers or briefs with both sides having passionate and compelling arguments. There is a new kid in town and that’s the utility kilt who has said to the briefs “I see your comfort and freedom and I raise you”. The ultimate in comfort and freedom, the utility kilt will give you a sense of getting back to nature and letting the boys breathe.

Make a statement

Today’s fashion for men is not one that is going to go down in history as ground-breaking. Skinny tight pants that leave nothing to the imagination and most of the time not for the good. Not only can you make a statement with a utility kilt, but you can also keep some mystery about yourself. It’s a great conversation starter and might just be the tipping point for a good night out.

Many Pockets

The problem with a traditional; kilt is that they are made for formal events and are based on the age-old design. In the modern era a more versatile kilt is required to enable the wearer the sense of freedom but also practicality. Loaded with pockets the utility kilts are the kilt for all occasions with room for your wallet, smart phone and whatever else you need to carry around with you on your night on the town.

Style for every occasion

The utility kilt is an amazing piece of clothing that can be worn for virtually any occasion, see below the occasions that are made for a utility kilt:

·        Casual Wear

Chilling on the coach or hanging with you mates you can experience total comfort in a utility kilt.

·        Smart Casual

Hit the pub or a function, with the right shirt and jacket you will be turning plenty of heads. Sometimes shorts just don’t cut it in a social situation, the kilt is the perfect solution for your smart casual wear.

·        Business Wear

Be the envy of your co workers as you rock the utility kilt to work. Can be worn as a more casual option or if a suit is required it easy to jazz it up with a jacket and tie. It’s the perfect business option.

·        Work Wear

Whether a home DIY master or a tradie the utility kilt might be the answer to your work wear woes. Tired of the same dreary work clothes, its time to kilt it up.

Whilst it is not limited to just the options above the utility kilt will turn out to be a welcome addition to any wardrobe, in fact it may just be the most versatile piece of clothing you will own. The team at Ozkilts are the best in their field and the isn’t a question they haven’t heard about kilts, join the kilt revolution, and speak to Ozkilts.