#((MISS DOROTHEA MISS DOROTHEA MISS DOROTHEA))

[solis-han]

i miss my wife, tails

[hauntedlovewasteland]

Everytime this song comes on and this part starts I normally always think to myself "It's insane that because she put 'there's nothing like this' between 'it's you and me' and 'Miss Americana and the Heart Break Prince' everyone just assumes that Taylor is Miss Americana when in fact she would be the Heart Break Prince grammatically and her muse would be Miss Americana." Probably also doesn't help she changed the name of her documentary to Miss Americana.

[pinkorchidsinspring]

I was rewatching Miss. Americana because it’s pride month and why not. ANYWAYS I don’t really remember if I’m being honest, but did we all completely ignore the LESBIAN FLAG OF A CANOPY IN TAYLORS HOME’S DINING ROOM?!

Like um-

But you know maybe she just really likes those colors 😉

[diioonysus]

hair + art

[heardahairpindrop]

It’s November 1st! So let’s say our favourite festive queer taylor moment. I’ll go first:

When she changed the pronouns in her cover of Last Christmas (a song written and sung by a gay man) thus keeping the queerness

[best-character-named-x-poll]

have you done your daily click

[sunnylittlebisexual]

The homophobic hetlor/swiftie to bi/sapphic gaylor pipeline truly is crazy like wdym I used to think Taylor and myself were straight. That can't be right 😂😂😂

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

Hey uh does anyone have the pic from the Eras Tour of when Taylor was dressed in one of those suits in the literal lesbian flag colours, sitting on a chair with her legs spread out like / \, doing the 🤘lesbian thingy with both her hands…

For research purposes 😭🙏

[bibelots]

I often think of the pub quiz of Harvest and think how it could be improved

(aka form the most powerful team in the world)

non-coloured versions !

[nemo-in-wonderland]

I Will Always Find you

Flecks of snow fall on your face Keep this kiss, don't forget my name Darkness comes to take us away Don't forget that you loved me.

Love is a magic we were born to make Hold it tight, don't let it break Poisoned apples dark hearts make Will die when you kneel and kiss me

When stars are gone Pages fade in the tale we knew, Hope is born Don't be scared if you can't find truth We belong Never doubt I will always find you

Love is truth Darkness falls but our hearts stay true I'm with you Don't be scared if I'm gone from view I'll always find you Never doubt I will always find you

"I Will Always Find You" - Karliene

[words-with-wren]

@chrumblr-whumblr Day Four: Watching while a loved one is hurt

Fandom: Endeavour. Post 4x04 Harvest. I watched the episode like a week ago and Forgot Details and haven't rewatched it to fact check anything so if something doesn't line up with canon oh well ignore that. I just love Morse and Miss Frazil's friendship SO MUCH i wanted to explore it a little. (May cannibalism this scene if i ever get around to writing my 'joan says yes' au)

word count: 1,563

___

Dorothea wasn’t sure when it had happened, exactly, but somewhere through the years her acquaintance with Morse had shifted from a respectful professional relationship to genuine friendship. It was a development that hadn’t been entirely intentional, but there was something about the young man that made her think he hadn’t had much friendship in his life. There was a hungriness about him, a desperate desire to be loved that she was sure he didn’t admit even to himself. 

She found him almost on accident, the day after everything at the Bramford power plant had been wrapped up. He was sitting at the bar of the pub, nursing a pint and staring morosely at an untouched crossword in front of him. Dorothea took him in for a long moment, seeing the bags under his eyes, the exhaustion in the way he sat, leaned over the bar. He was staring at nothing, eyes dull and half glazed over, clearly lost in thought. 

He looked positively worn out, and Dorothea felt her heart clench at the sight of him. He was so brilliant, so young and full of energy. Had a brain so fast and wonderful, but life had beaten him down so quickly. He didn't share much, but Dorothea had years of investigative journalism behind her--she could read between the lines, could pick out a story in the shapes left behind by absence. Not for the first time she thought he was a man too used to caring and not used to being cared for. 

To break the ice, she cleared her throat and sat down at the stool beside him. He started, torn out of his thoughts and the lost expression on his face shifted into a small smile. 

“Miss Frazil,” he greeted, shifting his newspaper aside to give her room. She smiled back at him, placing her handbag on the bar. “Can I get you a drink?” 

“I'm alright, thank you Morse,” Dorothea answered. She eyed the mostly empty glass in his hands, wondering how many he'd finished before she had arrived. Best not to bring more alcohol into the equation--heaven knows he could drink enough without encouragement. 

She started with work, knowing he would close himself off immediately if she pushed too hard too quickly. 

“You were at the plant, were you not?” she asked. A wary expression crossed Morse's face, but he seemed to relax a little nonetheless. She thought back to their last conversation, when she had dropped him off by an empty field. He'd opened up then, just a little. Bared himself just enough to show his hurt, but not quite enough for her to do anything about it. “Anything you can tell me?” 

The request pulled a small smile from him, something Dorothea was grateful to see. He rolled his pint between his hands and shook his head, turning to look at her. There was a cut along his hairline she noted--that hadn't been there last she saw him. 

“I'm afraid not,” he said. He still seemed distant, mind on other things. Not fully engaging in their usual dance as they tried to tease information out of the other. 

“The official story is a fire,” she said. His hand drifted to the cut. He nodded. 

“Best to leave it at that,” he said. She waited, long years of experience telling her the best way to get information out of someone was to wait. Let him tell her in his own time. 

Though it wasn't really what had happened at the plant she wanted to know. Not right now, at least. Like as not, it wasn't going to be anything she could publish anyway. 

What she really wanted to know was what was bothering him. It was more than this current case, more even than his flat being burgled earlier in the week. She knew him well enough to see it in the way he sat, the line of his shoulders, the shadows in his eyes. 

“Off the record, sabotage,” he said finally. This time he did press his hand to the cut on his forehead. “Some plot by Bagley, planning to leak radiation into the nearby area to prove just how dangerous nuclear energy is.”

Now that would be a juicy story. The part of Dorothea that was pure journalist wanted to dig deeper into it, chase the story, share it with the world. But from the way Morse was hunched, from the sensitivity of the situation, she knew that this would be another story by the wayside. Another time societal requirements won over the truth. 

Sometimes she felt a little bitter about that. But she told herself to keep looking forward, finding the next story, uncovering the next truth. 

“And you stopped it,” she said and he nodded, his attention still wandering. “You alright?” 

It was an innocent enough question, one she knew wouldn't shut him down immediately. There were a lot of ways to answer that, and Morse could choose how much he shared. 

“I'll live,” he said. She wasn't surprised by the answer; it was a dismissal, his way of saying he didn't want to talk. Not quite fully a lie, not quite fully vulnerable. 

He infuriated her, sometimes. He was so clearly in need of someone looking out for him, but he was so stubborn he refused to accept help, let alone ask for it. 

Sometimes she wanted to force him to stop, put him up in her small apartment for a week so she could put some meat on his bones and light in his eyes. Drive it into his stubborn skull that people cared and he didn't have to go at life alone. 

“Really?” she asked gently. 

He let out a long breath and emptied the last of his beer. 

“Still don’t feel entirely safe at home,” he admitted. “Feels too empty.” 

She nodded sympathetically. She knew a little about feeling vulnerable in a place that was supposed to be safe--it had been a few months since her kidnapping by Leyton-Asprey, and she still felt uneasy being alone in her office. Coming home to find his space invaded so violently had clearly shaken Morse and she couldn’t find fault in that. 

But he was using it as a shield, holding up the reasonable excuse so she didn’t dig any deeper, uncover the actual source of his hurt. Always hiding himself, was Morse. And Dorothea hated not knowing the truth. 

She let the silence sit for another moment, pondering her next course of action. It was always a delicate balance with Morse, finding the line between getting him to open up to her without shutting down fully. He needed to come at his own pace, but he needed to know she wanted to know. She wanted to share whatever his hurt was, help him in whatever way she could. 

She thought maybe he didn’t have many people he could feel safe opening up to, and she didn’t want to break the trust they had built over the years. 

“There was a girl.” 

His words came as a surprise, and it took Dorothea a second to process them. He spoke them softly, a mix of hurt and bitterness mingling in his voice. 

She thought back to that last conversation in the car on the country road. He’d denied a girl then, a scoffing almost-bitter voice proclaiming he didn’t have anyone. She’d thought it was a laden admission at the time, and now she felt a little vindication. 

It wasn’t sweet vindication. Not seeing how he was hunched into himself, not seeing the heaviness in his eyes. Heartbreak, she realised. Not something new to him, she concluded. 

“Ah,” she said softly. Morse stared into his empty pint glass. 

“She… had some trouble,” he said finally, looking anywhere but at Dorothea. “I couldn’t help her. She didn’t let me help her.” 

‘Sounds familiar,” Dorothea thought, expression soft and understanding as she looked at Morse. 

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, not knowing how else to help. She was glad he had let her in, glad he had shared at least something. Gently, she reached across the bar to squeeze his forearm. 

He started, looking down at her hand and then back up at her, seeming unsure what to do with the unexpected touch. Again, Dorothea couldn’t help but feel he had been so starved of everything a persons should have--love, intimacy, friendship. The knowledge that people care. 

For just a moment, he let her in fully. She saw the despair behind his eyes, the grief and loss. The hurt that informed every part of his life, walls and barriers and scars built up after a childhood starved of love and an adulthood seeing the worst of humanity. 

Then he shifted, pulling his arm away and looked back down at the newspaper in front of him. The moment was over, the walls were back up. Once again, he locked her out and was alone in his hurt. 

Dorothea knew there was nothing she could do for him except just wait until the next time he was brave enough to be vulnerable. For now, maybe that would be enough. 

“I’ll buy you a drink,” she said, sensing the companionship would be of more use than anything else right now. He flickered a small, forced smile in her direction and picked up a pen to start filling out the crossword. 

[hauntedlovewasteland]

Oh my god I just fucking noticed Karlie is shown here watching Taylor with that big ass proud smile of hers. I never noticed it and now I’m so confused on 1. Why the IMBD doesn’t show that Karlie is there. 2. When the IMBD changed a few months ago it showed Karlie but only having her voice being in the movie and not her in the footage and then they changed it to where she doesn’t show up in the cast anymore.

I feel insane because I thought she wasn’t in it at all but here I am now realizing she is.

[rafent]

cold, sender places their jacket over receiver's shoulders.

it’s not particularly cold this evening — the sun still sits low on the horizon, casting long shadows and filtering its fading warmth through the trees. perhaps it comes as a surprise, then, when dorothea suddenly sheds her jacket and drapes it effortlessly over his shoulders, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

without missing a beat, she proceeds to fuss over it — and over him — smoothing the fabric into place, adjusting the collar, ensuring every wrinkle is smoothed out. she even brushes aside the hair caught beneath the material, letting it fan out just so. she'll linger for a moment longer than necessary, hands gliding over the fabric, adjusting it until it’s snug against his frame. only when a sideways glance confirms what she’s been waiting for does the songstress step back, letting out a small huff — equal parts amusement and relief.

“before you think to thank me,” she murmurs, “i should tell you this was more for my benefit than yours.” her chin jerks subtly toward a figure who now slinks away into the crowd. a small motion, but enough to make the point clear. “he'd been following me for some time. i figured the sight of such an imposing figure”—a finger taps rafal's arm—“would send him packing. seems i was right.”

“i hope you don’t mind,” dorothea adds with a light shrug, tone breezy, as if all this were just part of a casual evening out. eyes twinkle as she looks him over once more, now with genuine approval. “in any case, you’re welcome to keep it for the time being. i daresay black is your color among others.”

with that, her hand slides gently around rafal’s wrist, a light tug guiding him toward a confectionary stall down the street. her voice lifts in a more playful tone: “and for your noble assistance, shall i treat you to something sweet? i’ve heard the fried dough is to die for. something about it being served with an imported chocolate syrup of some kind...?”

𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 — accepting

Across their acquaintance, unreasonable had never once come to describe Dorothea, so it was reasons that Rafal searched for. Reasons that he knew inherently to exist.

Stopped in his tracks, he allowed her fussing, compliance and curiosity commandeering the dragon's form equally. Fluttering birdlike hands setting straight this and that, attentive chartreuse gaze missing no detail, and the protracted quality of each careful yet exaggerated movement; the totality of a mysterious display that appeared to him not only purposeful, but feigned. Then at last an explanation that would tie together these all.

"Humph. Such pageantry." Rafal followed her eyes to the fringes where the stranger slipped away, then lingered there, protectiveness in every sense that remained on edge. Humans though of little consequence to dragons were worse enemies to one another; there would be no malefactor nettling one of his student flock, aside. He turned to the girl with a glower, a look not meant for her.

"If you had need for a scarecrow, Dorothea, I would have lent you a dragon's transformation to superior effect. We would clear the entirety of this space and more with none to dare bother you ever again." Genuine his offer, and perhaps a touch extreme if one should lend it any second thought. Rafal did and shrugged after a beat. "Though I suppose the matter is already dealt with. Next time, then."

Unreasonable never, but certainly generous. In the midst of removing the jacket and folding it for return, he felt himself tugged forward - a single earful of her proposal and his brightened expression was not to any imagination. In regards to said noble assistance, he had done little more than stand around and be dressed. Therefore—

"If you should insist so generously on a reward, I will not be so lacking in manner as to refuse." A reward for so little work, however? Unacceptable. Of course, Rafal would make himself worthy of it. ". . .And if you should care for a second performance, you need only say the word. I would not be opposed to being hand fed."

[digitalresorts]

[jun 30, 2021] more linhardt winfart (with a bonus ferdie and dorothea bc i lobe them)

[deliverred]

...and then there were four.

like clockwork, the weasel cabin grows quieter each week, with this one becoming more dangerously still. not even the guise of a grand finale can mask the unsettling feeling of watching their numbers dwindle ( and all this talk of a ringmaster doesn't help any, either. )

"you know, it wasn't so bad out there," dorothea says airily, trying for a smile. "granted, we were given soapy drinks and chased through a labyrinth by something that couldn't take a joke...but see? not so much as a scratch." both arms are held out to prove a point.

"forde and i made the most of your advice. we were plenty cautious out there." despite everything, she allows herself a small laugh. "maybe a tad too much, even. but we're here now. a handful of weasels is better than no weasels at all, right?"

dorothea's voice trails off, the light-heartedness now replaced by a more somber demeanor.

"though i suppose you’ve already guessed that’s not the real reason i’ve come here." a pause ; she hesitates briefly. "if i may, lukas? you've earned the team's respect. i think a rally from you might do wonders for morale, considering the current state of things."

She's attempting to put on an act here. He's not sure he understands why she feels the need, but he would not deny her whatever rituals she desired to get through this upcoming week.

"I am relieved you both were able to return unharmed," his tone is gentle, tired gaze observing the young woman before him. No wounds, just as she said -- but he knew well, not all damages were physical. Some were in your head, your heart, your spirit. "I am sorry if my...words and advice did not serve you well. I feel as if I've made several costly miscalculations as of late, and I apologize that they have fallen back on you and the others."

He is tired, yet he cannot rest. This is not over yet, and even if the odds are not in their favor, to give up is unacceptable when they can still put forth some kind of effort.

"We're here now...," he echoes, letting the background noise of the ocean crashing against the shore fade until it was but a thrum in his veins. He pulls in a breath through his nose, holds it a moment before fully meeting her gaze with his own. There is no smile this time, no mask in place, merely the reserved relentlessness that had seen him through to this point.

"I fear you may be asking the wrong person for this, Miss Dorothea; I am not a man with which passion stirs easily, nor do I think I could blow such life into the embers of our team."

Did they see differently than he? If they peeled back the layers of steel, would they see something in the hollow space he feels at his center? A spark of light, of warmth, in the darkness?

Or would they see nothing but a hollow echo of what it means to live?

"But I shall see what I can do. Please, try to get some rest while we still have the time."

[grantaireble]

Tortured Poets & "The Bride of Frankenstein"

To a new world of gods and monsters!

Alright this is soo long now and I came about this revelation the weirdest way (while watching world class color guard) but I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since. All of my ttpd thoughts were rattling around in my brain as we were watching videos and one group put out a Bride of Frankenstein show last year and they used this quote as a V.O:

“What do you expect? Such an audience needs something more than a pretty little love story. So why shouldn’t I write of monsters?"

And, man, something about that got the neurons firing, especially because I had already been thinking a lot about the connections between Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and TTPD. Here are some of those:

Frankenstein visuals in the Fortnight MV

“The 1830s” Mary Shelley's Frankenstein was originally published in 1818, but she made some edits for an 1831 edition

Mary Shelley, Percy Shelley, and Lord Byron were sort of their own little TPD, writing horror stories together one rainy summer.

TTPD and Frankenstein seem to reference many of the same things

Both Taylor on TTPD and Mary Shelley in Frankenstein reference the Rime of the Ancient Mariner and the albatross

“I am going to unexplored regions, to “the land of mist and snow;” but I shall kill no albatross, therefore do not be alarmed for my safety, or if I should come back to you as worn and woeful as the “Ancient Mariner?” – Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

Both Taylor and Mary Shelly reference Greek Myth 

Frankenstein: “The Modern Prometheus” (often compared to the Christian story of Christ)

Cassandra: gifted the power of prophecy but cursed to never be believed

Does the headpiece above not give Medusa?

Both Taylor and Mary Shelley reference the Bible

“I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel...” (Frankenstein) / “I got cursed like Eve got bitten,” etc. 

Both Taylor and Mary Shelley reference principles of Alchemy! 

"The modern masters promise very little; they know that metals cannot be transmuted, and that the elixir of life is a chimera." (Chimera = lion's head, goat's body, and a serpent's tail, more Greek mythology)

Some lyrics from TTPD also feel like direct references to Frankenstein quotes or themes

“I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend.” ― Mary Shelley, Frankenstein / “I was tamed, I was gentle ‘til the circus life made me mean.” – Taylor Swift, Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?

“I am alone and miserable. Only someone as ugly as I am could love me.” ― Mary Shelley, Frankenstein / “Down bad like I lost my twin.” – Taylor Swift, Down Bad

“I am malicious because I am miserable” ― Mary Shelley, Frankenstein / “Because I’m Miserable!” – Taylor Swift, I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

“One wandering thought pollutes the day” ― Mutability, Percy Blythe Shelley (Quoted in Frankenstein) / “One bad seed kills the garden” – Taylor Swift, The Albatross

“This feels like the time she fell through the ice” – Taylor Swift, The Bolter / In Frankenstein, ice is symbolic of isolation and alienation.

“Wretch” or “Wretched” is a huge word in Frankenstein / “That I’m fearsome and I’m wretched and I’m wrong.” Taylor Swift, Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?

“In the streets there’s a raging riot” / In the story, the Monster gets chased by angry mob of townspeople 

The First Two Pages of Frankenstein by The National (The Alcott appears on this album and The National toured it with Patti Smith)

Bonus: Dr. Frankenstein is something of an anti-hero. He, along with his monster, are also sometimes referred to as Tragic Heroes. Greek philosopher Aristotle first laid out the attributes of a Tragic Hero.

So all of this to say, I had originally only been thinking about TTPD only in the context of Mary Shelly’s original Frankenstein, even though that Fortnight imagery was definitely inspired by the films. But then that quote just really felt like it had Taylor written all over it.

So I googled Bride of Frankenstein.

It's basically an "everyone lives" AU sequel to Frankenstein lol. It's the 2nd of a trilogy (...hmmm?) although the third film Son of Frankenstein has a different director. The line I heard in the guard show is said by a fictionalized version of Mary Shelley, author of Frankenstein, who "appears" in the Bride of Frankenstein movie, along with poets Lord Byron and Percy Shelly.

In the scene, Mary Shelley explains that she wanted Frankenstein to show its audience the consequences of mortal man trying to play god. She then reveals that there is more to the story than everyon thinks. This, of course, got me thinking about the term "playing god" and the Mastermind of it all, along with all of the religious/worship imagery Taylor uses on the album. Bride of Frankenstein also uses Christian/crucifixion imagery to convey this theme. 

The movie picks up right where the original Frankenstein left off. Both the doctor and the monster somehow make it out of the original story alive. Dr. Frankenstein, despite wanting to step away from his experiments after his horrific first attempt, gets pressured/blackmailed by his mentor to create a mate for the monster. While this is happening, Frankenstein's original monster is sort of bumbling around out in the world trying desperately to make a friend. This never works, as everyone is too afraid of how different he appears on the outside.

This is around where the queer reading of "The Bride of Frankenstein" comes in. I'm getting most of my info from this video, which definitely clicked things into place for me.

The queer reading is based on a few things:

The relationship between Dr. Frankenstein and Dr. Pretorius (two men creating life together)

The monster as a figure that does not fit into the norms of society and the effects of that on his search to find someone "like him"

The director, James Whale, having been one of only a few openly gay men in Hollywood at the time

The character, Dr. Pretorius', "campy" queer coding

The Bride of Frankenstein was subjected to censorship from the Hay's board while in production and by censorship boards once released

"In the decades since its release, modern film scholars have noted the possible gay reading of the film. Director James Whale was openly gay, and some of the actors in the cast, including Ernest Thesiger and, according to rumor, Colin Clive, were respectively gay or bisexual." (Wikipedia)

This reading focuses on Dr. Frankenstein's inability to stay away from his "experiments," despite having a new wife and a potential regular life waiting for him at home. He is rejecting "the natural" in favor of "the unnatural.”

This reading also looks at the monster's deep desire and inability to find belonging in a world that fears otherness. The Monster tries multiple times to make a friend, but is always rejected.

He saves a woman from drowning but she screams in fear at his appearance.

He does befriend a blind hermit and they bond and become friends! But soldiers find the Monster there and they are separated. (At this point in the story the Monster wishes he were dead again.)

Finally, the Monster gets to meet the the Bride, who was literally made for the Monster. Unfortunately, the Bride, horrified at having been brought alive for the sole purpose of being a companion, also rejects him.

Here are some connections that relate to the Frankenstein/ Bride of Frankenstein films:

"Such an audience needs something more than a pretty little love stories" / "Are you not entertained?"

Safety Pins, Bride of Frankenstein / Hairpins, Fortnight video

“Strings tied to levers"? –Taylor Swift, Robin / At the end of Bride of Frankenstein, the Monster pulls the “self-destruct” lever, killing himself, the Bride, and Dr. Pretorious (might be a stretch, but this movie is the origin of the "mad scientist self-destruct lever")

In Son of Frankenstein, Dr. Frankenstein's grandson is named Peter (definitely a stretch?)

In Bride of Frankenstein a maid character, Minnie, tries to warn the town that the Monster is still alive, but no one believes her and she says "Nobody'd believe me! All right. I wash me hands of it. They can all be murdered in their beds." (It's giving Cassandra)

In Bride of Frankenstein the Monster saves a young shepherdess from drowning / "She almost drowned in frigid water" -Taylor Swift, The Bolter

Frankenstein freaks out and accidentally burns down the hermit's cottage (the only place he found human connection, hidden away from judgmental eyes) when they are found there by two hunters

Anyway this is so so long and and doesn't even include any real analysis (I might save that for a more cohesive post) but once I got started I just kept noticing things.

Right now I think the question I'm currently trying to answer is: Frankenstein Taylor Swift the Monster or the Doctor? The Bride? The drowned girl? The almost drowned girl? The Author??