#1957 scene didn’t actually happen

[amimochi]

Love through time | 50s

[xoxobuckybarnes]

February 2023 Stucky Fics

Completed

Heroes are Easy, People are Hard (series) by Halberth / @histrionic-dragon & art by Lorien / @drjezdzanyart

Heroes are Easy, People are Hard (Rated: T, Words: 152K)

Summary: Shuri and Wanda cleared Bucky's triggers shortly after Killmonger's attempted coup, and he and Steve went on the run. But it turns out there's more to "fixing Bucky's head" than "getting Hydra out of it." When a group of rogue scientists manage to neutralize the serum and make Steve very sick--pre-serum "this is bad" kind of sick--and they're cut off from contact with Wakanda, Bucky knows only one person with resources to help. He calls Tony and surrenders on the condition that Tony tries to help Steve. From there, it's basically three variously messed-up guys’ trajectories from "This Is Fine", "Reasonably Speaking I Know It’s Fine", "I Will Be Fine With It" to actually being fine, guest-starring a far-better-adjusted teenage boy who climbs walls, a 1957 Ford Thunderbird, two women with a keen sense of the absurd, and Bruce, the Zen master of “it’s fine that it’s not fine.” Add in the fact that Bucky's been secretly in love with Steve since the thirties and things only get harder. Learning to be a person is the hardest thing Bucky Barnes will ever have to do--but he's got company along the way.

Post-Credit Scenes (Rated: NR, Words: 2K)

Summary: “Hi.” Bucky ran his thumb around the edge of the shield. “I’m, uh. Not dead.” Takes place immediately after the end of Heroes are Easy, People are Hard.

More than the Sum of our Faults (Rated: T, Words: 15K) by Oh_i_swear / @oh-i-swear-writes & art by lemonadehearts / @lemonadeswift

Summary: When Steve Rogers adopts a dog he rescued from a collapsed building he realizes that due to the nature of his job he needs a dog sitter. Enter Becca Barnes, owner and sole proprietor of Happy Hounds, a dog walking and sitting service that comes Sam-Wilson-approved. What Steve didn’t bank on was the gorgeous owner of his dog’s best puppy pal who happens to also be Becca’s older veteran brother, and he certainly didn’t bank on running into the man - quite literally, let alone falling completely in love with him.

Another Song, Another Spring (Rated: T, Words: 46K) by somanywords / @somanywords

Summary: Bucky smiles into his phone. “Yeah, thanks, Mom. Actually, I had a few questions? What age do babies start mimicking language, aka cussing? And what age do they start walking?” “Is this for your book?” his mother asks suspiciously. “Yes,” Bucky says, staring into the eyes of the baby on his couch. “Yes."  

On The Back of A Raindrop (Rated: E, Words: 52K) by musette22 / @musette22

Summary:  Despite the fact that Steve Rogers’ life hasn't always been a bed of roses, he’s fortunate enough to have a lot of good things to call his own. He has a loving mother, two wonderful kids, marvelous friends, and a beautiful house with a big, sprawling yard, to name but a few. One thing Steve does not have, however, is green fingers. One late spring morning, Steve decides to call in the help of a local gardening company to restore his yard to its former glory. When gorgeous gardener Bucky Barnes shows up on his doorstep the next day, he unwittingly upturns not only Steve’s yard, but his life, too. Over the course of the summer, it’s more than just the garden that begins to blossom.

Atoms (Rated: M, Words: 49K) by Andrea1717 / @andrea1717 & art by kahey2804 / @kahey2804

Summary: After a hard year and the end of both his military and his short career as a personal bodyguard Steve Rogers did not expect the call from his best friend and ex- colleague Sam Wilson. He offers him a job, full time and long term, starting on the next day. At first it sounds perfect to finally move forward from the devastating events in his past career and life - being one bodyguard in a group of four for a rich kid from a famous lawyer. How hard can that be? What Steve didn’t expect was the kid - Bucky Barnes, twenty two, traumatized from his dark past, devastatingly beautiful and a real brat. After a while on the job Steve not only discovers that Bucky seems to play a role most of the time, he also discovers that parts of his heart who seemed to be dead for a while are very much alive.

honey don’t feed it, it will come back (Rated: M, Words: 18K) by thedoubteriswise / @thedoubteriswise & art by ellebeesknees / @ellebeesknees

Summary: He lets out a long sigh and watches Bucky. Back home he was always too vain to let more than a day’s worth of stubble build up, but now he’s got about three days of scruff on his chin. He shouldn’t look handsome like this. His eyes are shut, but Steve can tell by his breathing that he’s still awake. The cat is curled up on his stomach and purring like an idling motor.“ He’s actually pretty cute.” Bucky smiles softly, too sleepy to make whole faces.“ Damn right,” he hums. He’s stroking the cat’s fur, which is soft and fine now that it’s clean. He looks so open and inviting. Steve doesn’t close his eyes, watching Bucky’s gentle fingers and trying to come up with a plausible excuse to go touch him.

I was never cool (and all I wanted was just to have you) (Rated: E, Words: 2K) by dreamsinthewitchouse / @dreamsinthewitchouse 

Summary: Bucky is slouched behind the circulation desk, chewing on a pen and staring morosely at the computer screen. He’s wearing headphones, his head just barely moving to whatever he’s listening to. Steve is halfway across the room before Bucky notices him, startled into dropping his pen. “Oh. Hi.” Bucky straightens in his chair, pulling the headphones down to his neck while his face does something complicated. “Why— is there something you needed?” “Um, yeah,” Steve says, his chest suddenly tight. “There’s this book I really wanna read?”

***This fic is complete, but the series (booksmart) is not***

He’s All That (Rated: T, Words: 88K) by crinklefries / @spacerenegades​ & art by fingersnaptothat

Summary: “That one,” Tony says gleefully. “I pick him.” “Him?” Bucky hisses. “Steve Rogers?” “Bet’s a bet,” Tony says smugly. “Make Steve Rogers the class president by the end of the year.” “Motherfucker,” Bucky curses. Then he takes a fortifying breath. He can do this. He’s Bucky Son of A Senator Barnes. He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in the front just the way he knows men and women like it. “Fine,” he says. “Okay. By the end of the year. Easy.” *** When Bucky Barnes--son of a state Senator, future president of his fraternity, and co-captain of his college’s soccer team--gets unceremoniously and very publicly dumped at a party, his entire reputation hangs on by the thinnest thread. Drunk and humiliated, he does the only thing that makes sense--he makes a bet with Tony Stark. Now Bucky has the length of the school year to take Steve Rogers--small, asthmatic, environmentally-conscious art nerd, political activist, and complete social disaster--and turn him into the student body president. How many misunderstandings, shenanigans, and college tropes will abound before Bucky realizes that Steve Rogers, well, he’s all that?

WIP

Treading Water (Rated: M, Current Words: 76K) by sparkagrace / @sparkagrace & art by Dyslexic_Fetus / @reagy-jay

Summary: Olympic swimmer Bucky Barnes always believed that when the time came to retire, he would walk away with his medals and world records firmly in the history books and never look back. He never thought the water would leave him first.

***Be sure to check out the rest of this amazing series : Lane Lines: Lane Lines (Rated: M, Words: 132K), Lumière (Rated: M, Words: 5K), & New Traditions (Rated: M, Words: 6K)***

An Appropriate Omega (Rated: M, Current Words: 195K) by BeauRadley

Summary: Steven Rogers, the Duke of Brooklyn, is in a bind. The provisions of his father’s will mean he must marry before his thirty-fifth birthday or lose his mother’s inheritance. The catch? He has to marry a suitable omega. James Barnes is the third child of the impoverished Barnes family. If he or his sister don’t marry before the season is out, their family will fall further into poverty. If he doesn’t find someone else soon, he’ll be forced to marry the sinister Lord Pierce. The two men realize they can solve each other’s problems, but will their marriage of convenience turn into something more?

Dichotomy (Rated: E, Current Words: 4K) by papesdontsellthemselves / @turtle-steverogers 

Summary: After getting signed to SHIELD Audio Inc., The Commandos have been taking the world by storm. Industry golden boy, Bucky Barnes, is just happy to have a chance to share his music. However, his world threatens to get turned on its head when The Commandos get sent on tour with the Howlies, where Steve Rogers spreads into his life like wildfire, waiting to burn.

Rereads

Targeting (Rated: E, Words: 149K) by queenmab_scherzo / @queenmabscherzo

Summary: Steve and Bucky end up playing for rival college football teams.

[bb-bare-bones]

How We Make Our Psychos: A Psycho Retrospective

By Rebecca Smith

Artwork by Dy Dawson @xgardensinspace

Psycho. For a great many people, that single word is enough to conjure up Bernard Herrmann’s iconic screech of violins and Janet Leigh’s screaming face as a knife arcs towards her in the shower. Whether or not a person has actually seen Alfred Hitchcock’s 1960 psychological thriller won’t spare them – in the more than six decades since its release, Psycho has become a cultural touchstone for America and the horror genre. The pivotal spoilers Hitchcock went to much effort to conceal – if you didn’t know, the conventions of cinemas having start times and no late admissions policies are thanks to Psycho – are now so well entrenched in our collective cultural psyche that I wouldn’t be surprised if newborns’ shrieks these days are actually baby speak for “IT WAS NORMAN!!”

It's perhaps unsurprising that Hitchcock’s Psycho, which was named the greatest movie ever made by Variety in December 2022, is not exactly unexplored territory when it comes to analyses. Whilst the legendary shower scene is one of the most famous movie scenes in history, virtually every shot of this suspenseful masterpiece is familiar to us and, as such, has had interpretation after interpretation, and symbolism after metaphor after allegory, applied to and teased out of it. Fortunately, I’ve still been allowed to write something about Psycho anyway, so do indulge me and read on.

At its twisted roots, Psycho poses the question of how well we truly know other people, and this unsettling thought is where its lasting horror derives from. Lila Crane, Sam Loomis, and Mr Lowrey are all shocked to discover Marion Crane has run off with $40,000 because this isn’t the Marion they thought they knew; likewise, the entirety of Fairvale are shocked to discover Norman Bates has been murdering people while dressed as his mother – who he also murdered – and for years has been looking after her preserved corpse as if she was still alive. This isn’t the Norman they thought they knew, either. As the audience, we’re positioned to be shocked by this reveal about Norman too, as we’ve been encouraged to feel sorry for him as the dutiful, unworldly son of a cruel and possessive mother. Instead, we discover the brutal violence in Psycho is a part of Norman and we were just taken in by Anthony Perkins’ innocent smile – which, of course, was one of the many reasons he was chosen for the role.

In the real world, the people of Plainfield, Wisconsin, probably felt a similar shock in 1957 when it was uncovered that one of their locals had killed and mutilated two women and was living in a house full of stolen human body parts, many of which he’d morbidly fashioned into pieces of furniture. It is widely known that this unassuming local, Ed Gein, was a source of inspiration for Robert Bloch’s original 1959 Psycho novel, of which Hitchcock’s film is an adaptation. After the initial horror of Gein’s crimes, there remained the uncomfortable realisation that something like that could happen right under a community’s nose. A story not a million miles away from Psycho can, and did, happen somewhere it would be least expected to.

In a bold move for its era, then, Psycho explores why its killer kills. Psychoanalysis – the legacy of Sigmund Freud – was popular in America around the time of Psycho’s creation, and both Bloch and Hitchcock incorporated it into their respective works, most obviously through the character of Norman. As well as being one of the most recognisable poster boys for the Oedipus complex, which Bloch actually highlights Norman’s self-awareness of early in the novel, a significant portion of Norman’s dialogue in the Hitchcock film functions as Freudian slips about the horrible truth his unconscious is repressing. The inclusion of psychoanalytic elements in Psycho is an important component in making Norman a complex horror villain rather than one who kills for the sheer evilness of it. We could spend an entire essay debating exactly which mental illnesses Norman is supposed to be suffering from, and it is clear in retrospect that their depiction does not quite hold up to the reality in any case, but the fact that Norman is not well and has been spiralling for some time – while no excuse for murder – means we understand why he is where he is mentally and why he stays in his “private trap” rather than facing reality.

Of course, it is all very good understanding the psychology behind our so-called proto slasher, but Psycho hints towards the external as well as the internal factors that go into making a deranged killer. I am referring here to the place where Norman was allowed to fester: the fictional town of Fairvale, California. In its depiction of the small town, Psycho is critiquing the type of society and community attitude that unwittingly enables someone like Norman. American society in the 1950s was repressed – look what happened when Elvis wiggled onstage – and it is this repression that has disastrous consequences in Psycho.

It is Lila who summarises the issue with Fairvale in Bloch’s novel, in a disappointed observation about Sam: “He had that slow, cautious, conservative small-town outlook.” This outlook, exhibited by both Sam and Sheriff Chambers in their insistence on waiting and not bothering Norman, is perhaps best typified by Mrs Chambers in the Hitchcock film. When Lila and Sam learn Mrs Bates supposedly poisoned herself and her lover in a murder-suicide some ten years past, Mrs Chambers adds, “Norman found them dead together. In bed.” There is a disapproving emphasis on “in bed”, as if this is the most shameful aspect of the incident, which serves to highlight the still dominant conservative Christian outlook on sexuality and marriage prevalent at the time. This societal outlook on sexuality is shown throughout Psycho to be detrimental to its characters: at the beginning of the film, Marion is unhappy she and Sam are unmarried and must meet in hotel rooms for sex; and Norman, of course, has internalised disgust and guilt with his own sexuality to such an extent that, in a misogynistic twist, he projects that disgust and guilt on to any woman he finds attractive, allowing ‘Mother’ to surface and kill her.

In addition to this, Mrs Chambers has two other lines that provide insight into the community Norman grew up in. She mentions she helped Norman choose the dress his mother was buried in, remembering that it was “periwinkle blue”. Then, a few scenes later, she invites Lila and Sam for a meal to make reporting Marion’s disappearance and theft “nicer” for them. Both of these are kind acts, but are they inordinately helpful ones? Neither of these gestures would have illuminated what Norman had done; they were more like putting plasters over gaping wounds. This, it seems, is the Fairvale way: don’t ask, don’t know.

It is true that this effective silence around difficult or taboo subjects was a society-wide issue, but I think we can assume Fairvale, as a small town, was supposed to have its own distinct, concentrated flavour of it. If most people knew of the Bates family who lived like there was nobody else in the world, did no one ever think to query why that was? Did anyone know what Norma Bates was like? Didn’t anybody notice that Norman had lived in near isolation all his life, and wonder what effect that might have on a person? The answers are clearly no, because that was the Bates family’s business. The warning signs were therefore missed or ignored. At this time, and in this kind of place, the structural forces simply didn’t exist to avert crises of mental health, or abuse, or violence before they escalated. Psycho is pointing out the dark side of contemporary, as it then was, American society. The sort of situation that led to Gein. The story of Norman Bates is in part a warning about how pretending something isn’t happening and being unwilling to face reality – and that’s literal reality, in Norman’s case – only causes more harm in the long-term. And, once again, these external factors also do not excuse Norman’s murders. However, they do help explain how he was able to get away with them, unsuspected, for so long.

            This is not to say there is one single set of circumstances which would enable the story of Psycho to play out in some way. The whole point of Psycho is that it could happen next door, to anyone, because we might not know someone as completely as we think we do. The story could only critique the world it found itself in at that moment, but the passage of time prompts the question: could Norman Bates exist today? After all, not only have taboos around sexuality and mental health weakened considerably in a general sense over the last six decades, but there have also been huge advancements in the technology used to catch criminals. Giving your bloody crime scene a quick wipe down with some water and a mop might not cut it now. The internet too is encroaching further and further on our lives. It is fast becoming impossible to exist without at least a small online presence – and once you have an online presence, there is something about you there for people to pry into.

Then again, while the internet can be a tool to help people in bad situations, we all know what a double-edged sword it is. Never mind the overtly dark corners of the web, someone as well-established in presenting a false state of affairs to the world as Norman is would surely excel in doing the same thing in the supposedly safer online places. In fact, doing it online would be child’s play in comparison to real life. And, inescapably, security cameras would be a modern-day Norman’s scopophilic dream, there is no denying that. There are also still parts of society that cling harder to the values and social etiquette of the past. Who is to say Fairvale would have kept to the average rate of progress?

            Thus, the exact circumstances Psycho painted as aiding Norman’s murders in a small 1950s town might well have been altered in some way in the years since Hitchcock’s untouchable film first hit cinema screens, but the central fear in Psycho about how well we truly know other people remains. In Psycho, the two key characters of Norman and Marion, so often compared as two sides of the same coin, are being dishonest with those around them. Norman is even being dishonest with himself. Today, in our world of chronic oversharing, I’d wager there are still very few people who would – or even could – reveal every part of themselves to other people. Should that really be an aim for anyone? I would argue no, definitely not.

The inevitable consequence of personal privacy is that, in our imperfect world containing messed up people who sometimes do terrible things, there will be a few Normans. Likewise, not everyone can be the Lila who exposes and stops them. We can only exist inside our own heads; we can’t ever truly know the entirety of another person. In the end, the perversion of the familiar, of the people we tell ourselves we know – such as Norman – and the places we think are safe – such as our showers – is what continues to frighten and unnerve us in Psycho.

And Norman’s creepy smile at the end, of course; although that’s my favourite bit.

[theycallme-thejackal]

I NEED TO TALK ABOUT THIS SCENE.

(warning: a lot of joel hate below)

*clears throat*

So. I want to focus on Joel and Lenny in response to Midge getting heckled.

Midge very clearly has a handle on things. This guy is being a dick, and she’s able to roast him very effectively in contrast to how she dealt with hecklers earlier in the season - see 1x05: Doink (except don’t because that whole episode is cringeworthy).

Joel’s immediate response is to defend her honor. Now, I know a lot of people would go, Aww that’s because he loves her. He’s protecting her.

And to that, I say look at Lenny.

Lenny's watching her, enjoying her work (you can see him laugh a few times). He’s not jumping in. You can attribute that to the fact that he’s also a comic. He understands hecklers and knows it’s part of the game. Knowing how to deal with people not liking your act (even - and especially - if it is funny) is important for a comedian.

Now I direct you to the second gif.

When the heckler stands, Lenny’s face changes. He’s watching the guy because while he knows Midge can handle herself, he also knows there are people who get physically aggressive, and there’s no way this ‘cute uptown chick’ can take this guy in a fight. There’s clearly mild concern on his face.

There’s also obvious admiration because Midge got under the guy’s skin. She won.

Midge is his friend. Nothing’s happened. Lenny’s still wearing a wedding ring (even though he and Honey got divorced in 1957 irl, but I digress), so we can assume he’s not thinking about ever pursuing something more than friendly.

But if the guy had charged the stage, I’m pretty sure Lenny would have stepped in and taken that punch for her, maybe even punched the guy first. Joel might have, too, but Lenny’s only a few feet away, and Joel’s across the bar.

Third gif.

When the guys leave, Lenny watches them go. He relaxes a bit, but it’s obvious he’s making sure they’re actually getting out. He’s still got his hackles raised enough, but once again, he respects Midge enough to let her fight her own battles.

And then there’s Joel. *sigh*

Joel watches this all go down. He saw his ex-wife engaged in friendly conversation (read: banter) with his comedy hero, and that clearly got under his skin. Then she went up on stage and roasted him and his mistress for a while, which continued to bother him. 

He just watched her obliterate this guy and take care of herself, and that made him angry. Because as far as Joel is concerned, Midge needs him, and watching her handle herself without him is the final straw.

The guy is angry and aggressive, and he doesn’t respect Midge. He views her as his. His to defend, his to provide for (and if you don’t agree with that, Michael Zegen even said at the Emmys that Joel is very protective of his girl, to which we got a very shady - and very attractive - eyebrow raise from Luke Kirby). 

It kills Joel to see her being self-sufficient because it means she doesn’t need him anymore. He sucked at providing for her. He sucked at taking care of her. The one thing he can still do for her is punch a guy who’s being a dick to her.

So he does it to make himself feel better.

When he gets pulled off of the guy outside, he says, She’s good. She’s fucking good and gets really, really sad about it. Like, the guy is crying.

That punch wasn’t in defense of Midge. That punch was because he needs to believe that he still has a purpose in her life outside of being a punchline.

You will never convince me that Joel didn’t, for even a split second, imagine it was Midge he was punching in that moment.

She’s up there, telling jokes that are a million times funnier than anything he could ever write, and she’s doing it off the cuff. She’s just being herself. Making fun of her pain - the pain he caused, by the way - and she’s funnier than he could ever hope to be.

Look, Joel might love her, but he doesn’t respect her. In this scene, Lenny doesn’t love her (yet), but he respects her. And that is crucial.

Midge doesn’t need a man, but if she wants one (and clearly she does), he has to respect her as her own person, believe in her and her ability take care of herself, but also be there for her when she needs it. Now, who does that describe?

Lenny, who shows up in her life at the most seemingly random times? Lenny, who stands outside a hotel room waiting for her to make the move and then letting her walk away without pushing any further? Lenny, who keeps a respectful distance in his hotel room because he never ever wants her to feel like he’s pushing her into anything?

Or Joel, who hasn’t even bothered in four seasons to apologize for the absolutely degrading way in which he left her?

[alluringjae]

au cours de l’été - jjh

⤑ translation: over the summer

⤑ summary: this is a story of an exhausted painter who needed a breather from the hectic city life. so aside from moving to the countryside, the needed air in your lungs also came in the form of a person. this summer meant for pure relaxation, perhaps your heart may dive into him too.

⤑ pairing: jaehyun x female reader

⤑ word count: 15.2k (so much for saying that i’ll be writing shorter stories)

⤑ genre: fluff, romance, smut | author!jaehyun, painter!reader, strangers to lovers!au, 50s-60s!au, summer love in france!au

⤑ warnings: me inserting some french phrases because I want to practice (feel free to correct me if I made mistakes, i’ll appreciate them), fictional interpretations of real-life people, explicit language, jaehyun being such a romantic pls im in tears, mentions and scenes of burnout (the worst)

⤑ playlist: everybody loves somebody by dean martin | c’est si bon by eartha kitt | it’s always you by chet baker | les yeux ouverts by emilie-claire barlow | a sunday kind of love by etta james | the most beautiful thing by bruno major | try again by jaehyun and d.ear (duh) | free love (dream edit) by honne | petite fleur by jill barber | plus je t’embrasse by blossom dearie | so this is love by ilene woods and mike douglas

⤑ author’s note: this was an idea that just came to me after pinterest kept recommending me poetic beauty/try again jaehyun, so here we are! i intended to write less than 5k words but sometimes plans don’t go as planned once you really invest in the story yet i’m really happy how this turned out!

the romantic exhilaration in my bones are off the charts because this is jaehyun we’re talking about lol enjoy!

⤑ masterlist

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism, or hellos!

3 juin 1957

The city life overstimulated your entire system, losing your brainpower and inspiration. Another exhibition that’ll feature your works with other influential painters was happening at the end of the year, and you had nothing prepared so far. You’ve crashed to the deep end of creative fatigue.

So you needed to get away again; somewhere quieter and surrounded by nature.

That’s why you ended up in the countryside down south, somewhere within Provence. It’s purely just for the summer, but extensions were okay as long you get back at least a month before the show. Filing that leave of absence at the studio you worked at was worth it.

You rented an apartment overlooking the marketplace, where the heart of the village was. After arranging things from your boxes and luggage the entire day, you found out that you lacked in the food department.  

So the succeeding day, the entire morning was spent on grocery shopping downstairs then stocking them inside your refrigerator, freezer, and pantry. Right after changing out of your pajamas into a flowy floral dress and sandals, you decided to bike to the bakery that locals suggested. A must-go place for newcomers, they all raved.

“Café des Étoiles Perdues.” (Café of Lost Stars.)

The clear chimes of the bell resounded through the small, cottage-like lobby as you entered inside. An old woman, whom you assumed was the owner, welcomed you openly.

“Oh la la, vous êtes belle! Vous vous appelez (Y/N), la nouvelle venue, n'est-ce pas?” (Oh la la, you’re beautiful. Your name is (Y/N), the newcomer, right?)

She complimented, making you shyly mutter your answer. Wiping off the flour from her apron, she introduced herself kindly.

“Je m’appelle Camille. Mes spécialités sont les macarons pisctaches et des croissants avec des amandes. Autre chose que tu aimes?” (I’m Camille. My specialties are the pistachio macarons and croissants with almonds. Is there anything else you like?)

“J'aime tout ce que vous suggères, Madame.” (I’d like anything that you suggest, Madame.)

A younger man, who went by Jaemin, was a part-timer barista who asked for your coffee order. As he directed you to the best seat of the café, which was outside overlooking the garden of blooming sunflowers, you pulled out your sketch pad so you could capture this dreamy view. It was nothing like you’ve ever seen in your life.

You’ve decided on a theme already for your exhibit thanks to your conversations with locals yesterday, which was related to freedom. After being chained to cities for so-called better living and financial standards, it’s actually how your inspiration to create squeezed the life out of you like a lemon. Although it was fun at first to see those tourist spots, it eventually got tiring.

Another matchstick to graze intensity through your bones was what you prayed for.

While you’re engaged in a rough sketch of the scenery, the dandy presence of a young man entered the café with his books. White shirt, red trousers with a matching beret, he sported freckles on his pale face. Despite visiting his favorite café numerously, Camille was overjoyed to see him and his serene smiles.

“Jaehyun! What brings you here?”

“Bonjour, Madame! I’m starving for your croissants because I ran out back home.”

“Not to worry! I’ll pack up some so you’re on your way.” She lightened him up like one of her kids, taking one of the bigger paper bags.

“No rush though, Madame. I’ll be reading and working here for a bit here.” Jaehyun affirmed, bringing it out his wallet and called out for Jaemin.

“Un café crème, s’il vous plait.” (One cup of cappuccino, please.)

Jaehyun’s usual chair was by the large window, overseeing the wide garden planted by the citizens of the village way before he was born. It was places like this he missed after moving to the city for his education and work’s sake. 

That’s the thing when you’re coming from a rich family; you don’t have much of say with what your parents order you to do. However, his recent request to stay in his childhood home (or mansion) again was fulfilled because he couldn’t search for what he needed in the cities anymore.

Jaehyun was a sucker for romance; an old romantic others would say. A lot of women mistook his kindness as flirting on many occasions, but ironically he just wasn’t looking for anyone yet. 

Starting as a novelist in the said genre based on real-life stories of people he met in Paris, Barcelona, London, and more, his stories were popular hits especially to young adults who aspire to find love one day.

However, traveling to the known places no longer felt fun as he got older. The stories he gathered were very similar, just in different languages. It took an enthusiastic dinner with his family, specifically his only older sister Krystal retelling fond stories from their younger years to get the idea of moving back for a bit. So consumed with the city life, he wanted to see things from another perspective.

What was the difference between a love story formed in the countryside than in the city?

It’s been a month since he arrived, but he didn’t hurry himself to do his research. He’s been reading books in his family library, revisiting monumental places, exploring around the village, and reconnecting with old friends as if he never left. 

Readjusting to his former life would make writing easier when he’s motivated enough to do it again. Besides, his books were profiting well enough to his taste; good enough for the next 10 years according to his personal accountant, Kim Jungwoo.

Jaehyun resumed reading this book his mother recommended him before he left. Entitled “Réessaye”, which was about a young man who reunites with his childhood sweetheart after his arranged marriage failed. After what she put her through, he’s hesitant whether to try again or let her go.

Jaehyun enjoyed reading books with realistic outlooks on love because he found them more meaningful, enlightening how exactly it makes you feel and do. Even if he enjoyed reading sappy, fairytale-like stories from time to time, he always returned to the real ones as they only displayed the truth.

That love isn’t always rainbows and sunshine, but something that can also break you especially if you go after the wrong person. This kind of mindset was how he toiled on his stories, which gained him a status outside of his unavoidable labels such as “the only striking son of the Jeong family” or “Valentine Boy”.

He diligently browsed through the climax, where the main male character confessed all his constrained emotions to his sweetheart. But it was until Jaemin pressed the bag of croissants in front of his face after placing down his childhood friend’s drink to disturb his peace.

“Reading again?” He taunted, snatching his book away and throwing the bag on Jaehyun’s lap. “When are you writing that book already? Everyone is practically dying for you to release something new again!”

Jaehyun flatly shook his head, drinking his coffee quietly. It’s not the first time anyone asked (or pressured) him about his next release, and it’s the last thing he wanted to think about. “Not in the mood right now, Jaemin. Now off to work before Madame Camille scolds you again.”

“You’re just stalling because you have nothing to write, don’t you?” Jaemin cunningly expressed, raising a brow. He’s known to catch onto the people’s bs easily; the last person you’d want to say your secrets too and Jaehyun realized too late. Though lucky for him, Jaemin shut the topic down right away so he wouldn’t pop a vein.

“Sais-tu de la nouvelle venue dans le village, d'ailleurs?” (Do you know about the newcomer in the village, by the way?)

“Une nouvelle venue?” (A newcomer?)

Being stuck at his mansion recently, news about village affairs were now late to him. Jaemin’s finger discreetly pointed outside the window, pertaining to a young woman sat outside painting her view in front of her.

That would be you, shading all the flowers in bright colors.

Seeing a new face amazed Jaehyun, especially when she was almost someone right out of a book. In a neat bun with white daisies printed in her dress, she crossed her legs whilst continuing her movements. She bit her lower lip, frustrated over an accidental smudge she made and trying to fix it by blending it with another color. When she accomplished it, she swapped brushes. A thinner one, to outline the shapes of the flower. Her lips curved to a smile after finishing another one perfectly with the rest.

“Jaehyun?”

Jaemin snapped his fingers to his distracted friend, zoning out the window. Still something he hasn’t stop doing, he pondered. With a final snap, Jaehyun broke away from falling hard from his abstract. Jaemin calculated the problem so quickly, analyzing his friend breezily like his medical school requirements.

“Elle est splendide, n'est-ce pas?” (She’s gorgeous, right?)

“Elle ressemble à une personne décente.” (She looks like a decent person.)

Jaehyun pushed it aside, flipping back to the page where he stopped reading. Before Jaemin responded, the door chimed open again to alarm him that a new customer came in. He excused himself to his friend, warning him that this wasn’t the last time he’ll talk about the newcomer too.

Jaehyun nodded along, not taking his friend’s cheeky words so seriously. However, the final result you attempted to create tickled his curiosity, so he slyly peeked from his book to the window.

You’ve freed your hair down, victorious to have started your collection this early in your break. A fantastic start, you let the paint dry first and munch on the croissant that served as your reward. However, you ‘re quick to notice a manly figure glancing through the window. From the side, his brown eyes appeared lively even if his entire face was hidden by the book.

Réessaye by Mark Lee; he must be a romantic. Every person in your studio read it, excluding yourself. Painfully beautiful, they’d summarize it.

Daring to meet more people, you locked eye contact with him. He didn’t expect it, almost flipping from his chair. Bashfully, you waved him a hello to somewhat break the ice. However, it broke his composure, and suddenly, he scurried off with his things from the café.

Now, you got quite worried. You checked your tiny mirror if he saw anything unpleasant with you, but you’d say you look relatively fine. Oh, maybe you could redeem yourself the next time you saw him. After bidding goodbye to Camille and Jaemin, the latter chased after you when you prepared yourself on your bike.

“By any chance, did you say hi to a guy with brown eyes and a red beret?”

“Well, more like I waved at him, then he zoomed out. Did I do something wrong?” You questioned with concern, putting your hands on the handles.

“That’s my friend, who’s quite reserved with strangers. I’m sorry on his behalf.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” You brushed it off politely. “See you again soon, Jaemin!”

Peddling away, letting the cool breeze fan you, your mind reverted its thoughts to that strange man. Maybe you’ll give it some time; you had a lot of it.

“Shucks, he was pretty cute.”

12 juin 1957

The world must really be on your side with these good decisions because you crossed paths with the strange man again in the café a week later. But instead of running away, he asked nicely if he could sit across your free chair in front of your table outside. It was a Saturday, and the place was packed.

“Joignez-moi, s’il vous plait.” (Join me, please.)

You insisted, giving yourself time to subtly observe his physique a lot more. Freckles dotted under his eyes like a constellation, bushy eyebrows, pink cheeks to match his pale complexion, and wearing a fuzzy knit sweater that meshed well with his green beret. He had some sort of necklace too; there was a heart pendant.

“Vous êtes une artiste.” (You’re an artist.) The small wooden palette of paint beside your small sketch pad was exposed, finding it as a great icebreaker.

“Une peintre, spécifiquement. Franchement, les visuels ici sont trés captivants qu'à Paris.” (A painter, to be specific. Frankly, the visuals here are more captivating than in Paris.)

“Je suis d’accord,” (I agree,) Jaehyun leaned against his chair, taking a better look at you with the remaining light from the descending sun.

“Oh, vous êtes comme moi. J’habite à Paris aussi.” (Oh, you’re like me. I live in Paris too.)

“Bon, je suis née à Londres. Puis, j’ai déménagé où je voulais en Europe depuis j'avais 18 ans. Mais oui, j’habite définitivement à Paris maintenant.” (Well, I was born in London then moved wherever I wanted in Europe for inspiration since I was 18. But yes, I live permanently in Paris now.)

You clarified, beginning to enjoy his comforting company. Initiating conversations with people you’re not acquainted with wasn’t in your range of skills, though he didn’t have an intimidating vibe. He looked too youthful to act like that.

“Je m’appelle (Y/N), d'ailleurs.” (I’m (Y/N), by the way.) You stuck out your hand as a sign of respect, which he enthusiastically obliged.

“Salut, (Y/N). Je m’appelle Jaehyun.” [Hi, (Y/N). I’m Jaehyun.]

He kissed it in a gentleman fashion, applying the manners he’s been taught since he was a child. Should you have been flustered, but no.  It’s been a long time since anyone greeted you like that, specifically back home.

Throughout your talk, you learned more about who he was, his job, and what his life in the countryside is like. He was an author of romance novels, yet you’ve never heard about him prior. Heavily prioritizing your work, you don’t keep up with the new releases or trends at all. Though after mentioning his last name, it piqued your interest.

“Jeong? As in the business, Jeong Tea Inc.?”

“Correct.”

His family was one of the most affluent families in Parisian society. Old money immigrants from South Korea, they brought their tea business to France and it boomed successfully. You’re quite sure you’ve seen his parents in past exhibits, but never did you approach them because you were a rookie then. But he reassured you that it was fine, and to just treat him like you’d treat your friends. Plus, it came to your knowledge that he was the same age as you too.

He opened up how this village was where he lived his childhood, so he asked his parents if he could hand over their mansion for a while for rest. It then shocked both of you at how identical your reasons were for staying in the countryside.

“I’m burnt out from the city, so I’m trying to regain my spirit here hopefully. Besides, I needed a change of scenery after living there for 3 years. My longest stay yet outside of London!”

“I need new ideas for my books. The cities don’t charm me anymore, so I returned here for peace and quiet. Maybe let these ideas come to me rather than me going after them.”

From a bigger lens, people would conclude your interaction as a sight of two artists who passionately talk about their art. But to you, you’d interpret it as two relaxed, young adults in their twenties who simply wanted to run away from the pressures of their art and enjoy the summer as every young adult should.

Not cooped up in the studio or office, but innocently waltzing around with your youth while it’s still there.

début de juillet 1957

“Dépêche-toi, (Y/N)!” [Hurry up, (Y/N)!]

Jaehyun yelled at your open balcony from downstairs, parking his mini car beside your bike. He planned on taking you somewhere a little farther this time; to absolutely feel like one of the locals.

The countryside urged you to wear more dresses and flat shoes, so you took out a turquoise dress with a white scarf to wrap on top of your head. Like your relaxed fit, your mindset too was calm. Upon meeting him, he wore his round spectacles with a red knit sweater over a white turtleneck long-sleeved top. His fingers were adorned with silver rings, then around his neck was a thin black ribbon. He curled some of his hair again, a style you really liked of his.

You can��t lie, but this man could pull any trend or style and still look extra pretty.

Out of all the locals you’ve befriended in your stay, Jaehyun was always your companion. He took you to varying places that those locals don’t visit nor tourists acknowledge in their reviews for the past few weeks. For someone who hasn’t been in the village for a long time, his memory didn’t disappoint. His childhood was only filled with cheerful moments.

Today, he was taking you to a peaceful district of shops in the farther part of the village. It’s where he’d buy sweets, journals, and accessories with his mother, Krystal, and one of his housemaids every other weekend.

All the stores there were currently bombarded with blooming flowers along their alley, bringing more enticement to those who were roaming around. There was so much life here; the head waiter of one restaurant smiling at every passing customer, one florist handing a free flower to anyone who asks, and a young lady showcasing her jewelry collection to a bunch of women who looked like tourists.

“Cette librairie vendent des livres enveloppés dans du papier. Ma mère m'a offerte l'un d'eux pour mon anniversaire tous les ans comme une surprise.” (This bookstore sells books wrapped in paper. My mother gifted me one of them on my birthday every year as a surprise.)

He trained his attention at a rustic shop with open wooden windows giving a glimpse of their shelves.

“Avez-vous fini les lisant?” (Have you finished reading them?)

“Du début à la fin.” (From cover to cover.)

He took you to this rooftop restaurant overlooking the entire plaza. Since he didn’t arrange a reservation yet didn’t get rejected, he must know the owner. Especially how a lot of the staff gave casual hellos and high fives.

Speaking of the owner, he walked out of his kitchen to introduce himself to you. He went by the name Moon Taeil, another one of Jaehyun’s childhood friends whom he used to play at his house whenever his parents came along.

Gobbling up in the appetizing food Taeil prepared beforehand, Jaehyun brought up your painting exhibition again. He loved hearing artists talk about their works, wanting to know more about their driven mindset and what their imagination is like. After all, it does vary for everyone.

“So far,” You poked your fork through the chicken, taking a bite of it. “I’ve produced 3 paintings. The garden of flowers outside Café des Étoiles Perdues, the kids playing hopscotch in the alley, and the peach tree outside your house.”

“Woah, you’re on a roll.” Jaehyun clapped across you, pouring you another glass of water. He recalled the nights you ranted not having any clue what to do for the exhibit. Then after taking you to more places, he’s rewarded to see you be creatively active again. “How many artworks do you left to make?”

“Around 3-4 left. I have ideas already, but I’m still brainstorming.” You internally rejoiced, loving how much progress you’ve made. “How about you, Jaehyun? How’s your progress?”

Unlike you, Jaehyun still felt stuck. Although he did find couples around the village, none of them intrigued him as much as his past stories. But he won’t give up easily; that’s not in his work ethic.

“Still searching, but I’ll get there.”

Recently, you got ahold of some of Jaehyun’s books from him personally since they weren’t sold in the village. You wanted to understand how he became so well known outside the labels people put him under. Reading his first novel entitled “Des Papillons” (Butterflies), it was about a couple separated during World War II without contact or knowledge about their well-being. Yet whenever they saw butterflies on the day they parted, they took it as a sign that the other was alive wherever they were.

You’re always hanging on the cliff when the scenes revert back and forth to the main male lead getting stuck in intense war scenarios, rooting for him to get out alive each time. In the end, it took 7 years before they were reunited and wed.

Jaehyun had a wonderful way with his words and descriptions, managing to enwrap you in as if you’re also a character in the book. Like how you rooted for that male lead, you’re rooting for him to find his spark again.

Following this uplifting conversation, Jaehyun finally took to your greatly anticipated spot. It was the main viewpoint of Gordes, one of the most beautiful hilltop villages in the country. The sunset was about to hit, and the lights from the city across you slowly turned on like a bunch of dominos.

As you marveled at its aesthetics, Jaehyun leaned against the hood of his car. He sensed how in awe you were, more than you ever were in the city he assumed. So used to the city that being surrounded with nature became foreign to you.

He took out his polaroid camera from his trunk and captured a photo of you from behind. The shutter sounds were obvious, turning your back at the commotion. Jaehyun fanned the freshly printed photo to dry, giving a mischievous smile.

“What can I say? While you’re fawning over the view, mine was more enamoring.”

Although Jaehyun felt overwhelmed the first time he locked eyes with you, he can’t resist the power of his developing feelings for you. The more time he took you around, the more his heart found different details about you to admire. After listening to all those love stories in the past, the people he spoke to shared how there will be some distinct moment where your heart decides who they’re longing for.

That exact view of you by the cliff, he already knew.

He’s infatuated by you.

“Tu es très ringard, Jaehyun.” (You’re so cheesy, Jaehyun.) You scoffed sassily, with a hand on your waist.

“Un gentleman ne ment jamais, (Y/N). Allez, il fait nuit maintenant.” [A gentleman never lies, (Y/N). Come on, it’s night already.]

He cleverly responded, grabbing his car keys from his pocket. The trip back to the village was energizing, putting down the roof of his car to relish the chill breeze of the night weather. You even raised your arms in the air, losing your scarf even from the speed Jaehyun went at!

The two of you belted along to the songs on the radio when the fields were the only ones surrounding you, no neighbors to shout at your rambunctiousness.

The late-night hours drew by so quickly almost like dinner with more of Jaehyun’s friends didn’t happen. Arriving at the front doors of your apartment complex, Jaehyun raced over to your side to open your door. Always maintained proper observation of manners, you appreciated that side of him. Rarely anyone in Paris that you’ve encountered treated you that way because you were a foreigner.

“Bonsoir, (Y/N).” [Goodnight, (Y/N).]

“Bonsoir, Jaehyun. Quand est-ce que je te revois?” (Goodnight, Jaehyun. When can I see you again?)

“Demain et après-demain. Appelle-moi quand tu es libre.” (Tomorrow, and the day after that. Just give me a call when you’re free.)

With a short wave, you entered your building and marched up to the stairs. A good day only meant being tired to the core, ready to crash and fall in your soft bed. Opening your wide windows to let more of the cool breeze in, your eyes easily caught Jaehyun’s classy car still there. As for the owner, he didn’t move an inch from his leaning position.

“Rentre à la maison, Jaehyun! C’est tard!” (Go home, Jaehyun! It’s late!) You shrieked, peeking side to side to make sure none of the neighbors scold you.

Jaehyun laughed wholeheartedly, not budging at all. “La nuit ne fait que commencer, ma chérie.” (The night has just begun, my darling.)

“Comment tu m'as appelé?” (What did you call me?)

Either your ears were fooling you or he addressed you by a divine pet name. The gasp you swallowed, as your entire body tingled with exhilaration. Your mind would simply disregard it like his former teasing words, but your heart begged to differ.

Rather than responding with words, Jaehyun’s voice serenaded you with a wondrous song, C’est Si Bon by Eartha Kitt, that played on the radio earlier. Out of the blue, a random guitar accompaniment followed his baritone vocals.

“En voyant notre mine ravie,”

Against the railing of your wired balcony, your body shifted forward to watch him better.

“Les passants dans la rue, nous envient,”

Your hand perched on your cheek, admiring his talent.

“C'est si bon de guetter dans ses yeux,”

It was like a lullaby, and here you were drowning in its peacefulness. Sensing the passion he gives off in his singing, your heart couldn’t refrain the strings inside from being swayed and tugged.

This was your moment of realization: that you too were smitten.

“Un espoir merveilleux, qui donne le frisson…”

À la mi-juillet de 1957

“Hello, nature!” You greeted brightly as your legs raced the huge garden in his manor. It was the first time he invited you over, too lazy to go out of the city. His social battery needed a recharge for the weekend, so a picnic within his home would do the trick. Additionally, it was an excuse to bring you over after the numerous times you’ve begged him to.

Jaehyun merely shook his head, enjoying the rush of childlike fun in your veins while you squealed and grazed your hands through the flowers.

He carried a wooden basket full of treats his family maids cooked, taking his time to venture through the rows of flowers. They were growing healthily and phenomenally these days, sometimes riding his bike to personally water them since he became busy with writing again. Lately, he found inspiration again, and so he wrote day and night to set them free.

“Voila!” You yanked out a sunflower, sniffing it a little. “Come on, Jaehyun! Pick up a few for our lunch!”

He followed your order, picking out some he found ideal. But just for fun, he put down the basket and carried you from behind out of the blue. You tried kicking him away, but his muscular arms can’t compete with your soft ones.

“What are you doing?”

“You said to pick up a flower, so I did. The prettiest of them all.”

His flirtatious words were never serious, yet you took it as a compliment. That’s how high your confidence is. Only we define our own worth, not others. The two of you chatted more about your lives until the first rain of the season poured down, chilling down from the raging heat. None of you had an umbrella; the weather was too unpredictable.

Deciding to just run for it, he gave you the wooden basket to protect yourself whilst he used the blanket you’ve sat on. Running with laughter to return to his mansion in the muddy dirt, the cool drops shivered your figure yet felt fantastic.

If you were in the city, you’d panic because it’d mess your appearance and your boss would be infuriated by your unprofessionalism. But in the countryside, it didn’t matter at all. The condition of the rain wasn’t budging to improve, getting stronger by the minute. His entire house even lost power, his housemaids having to bring candles to his bedroom and your assigned one once night dawned.

It was hopeless to return home for you, plus it’s dangerous to drive in in the dark, narrow streets too. Jaehyun handed you some of his fresh clothes so you’d be free from flinching from cold dress sticking to your body.

“Get dressed and some sleep, (Y/N).”

Nodding, you excused yourself to find the bathroom. You’d assume it’d be easy, but this was your first time in his house; a mansion even. Doors from left to right, long corridors that seemed never-ending, no maids were within the vicinity whom you can ask for guidance.

Resorting to return to Jaehyun’s chamber for help, you were taken aback by what your eyes laid on. In front of his full mirror, he discarded his now-dried shirt. Even with the dim lighting, you could make out that he was fit by the transparent view of his abdomen. Peeping like this was wrong, yet you couldn’t turn away just yet. The heat in your cheeks was inevitable, finding composure in such an unholy sight.

Though a gear in you suddenly twisted; a gear that straightened your nerves. You’re taking a bold move on the chessboard of your feelings. Wholly opening his bedroom door again, you leisurely sauntered inside without warning.

“Oh, (Y/N)! Ne peux pas trouver la salle de bain?” (Oh, (Y/N)! Can’t find the bathroom?)

Unbothered as he stood shirtless, you on the other hand silently dropped his clothes on the floor. Holding intense eye contact, your fingers graciously unzipped the side of your dress. Inch by inch, the tension built up like the strong tiny flames lit on the candles around you two. Joining the pile of clothes, all that remained were your white lace undergarments. Unplanned for the get-go, it’s the ideal set for your earlier outfit at the picnic.

“Je me suis perdue, mais je pense avoir trouvé quelque chose de mieux.” (I got lost, but I think I found something better.)

Your fingers grazed your arm up to your collarbones, faking your naivety. From your lust-filled stare, the glint in Jaehyun’s eyes darkened. He gulped at the revealing sight of you, brushing his hair back to restrain himself.

None of you could utter a single word, only the vivacious rain being the only sounds ringing around you. Thus, you allowed your actions to pursue precisely what you desired to do.

Taking baby steps towards him to test the waters, he met you right in the center and closed the leftover space. His hands cradled your face, whilst yours clung to his chest. His lips tasted like red wine, watching him pour in a glass for himself earlier. He did offer, yet you declined.

Your tongue darted his lower lip, gaining access after. Sensing the edge of his bed, you plopped yourself down the cushion. His knee urged your legs to widen, letting his body slide in. From your face, his fingers lowered to the back of your bra, snapping the clasps open.

“It takes skill to accomplish that in one try, Jaehyun.”

“I lived in Paris too, ma chérie. You out of all people would understand and have the experience.”

His palms massaged your freed breasts, throwing your head back even more to his pillows as his lips ravaged down from your stomach until the fabric of your not-so pure panties.

“Call me that again, please.”

“Ma chérie, seras-tu mienne?” (My darling, will you be mine?) He kissed and licked the tiny ribbon in front repeatedly, where your now-swollen clit laid. It electrified your bones, pulling on to his ruffled hair.

“Tu peux m'avoir.” (You can have me.)

Sex in the form of one-night stands were all you’ve invested; upcoming artists like you weren’t capable to maintain long-term relationships. Les plans à trois even if you’re extra freaky or drunk from the afterparties of your events. All that these occurrences had in common were not seeing those men ever again after sneaking out of their apartments in the morning.

This time, it’s different.

When they said that doing the deed with someone you’re romantically entangled with was more special, they didn’t bluff. You could plan bits of your life, but it can sometimes change aspects of it when you least expect it. Sometimes for the best or the worst, but right now, it went beyond your expectations.

It’s rewarding that the man you’ve slowly fallen for within your stay returned your affections.

Around late 3 am that night, your brain jolted with artistic ideas that awoken your sonorous rest. There are no hopes of sleeping them off because they tend to bother you for hours until you do something about it. But you’re already so cozy having Jaehyun’s arms around you, skin to skin under the duvet. His lips daunted right above your forehead, recalling his endless kisses there that helped you fall asleep.

Well, these ideas don’t work themselves unless you do. Untangling him tactfully, you stepped out of the blanket and wore one of his long white shirts he gave you earlier before pulling out your sketchpad and palette of oil paints.

Luckily, there was still one available candle to use as the rest have melted indefinitely. You slid the matchstick again to the sand surface, boring a flame from the friction which you placed on top of the wick.

All your ideas that night leaned towards one thing, or person rather: Jaehyun.

You spent a few minutes retracing how he vividly looked at the picnic, leaning back from the chair of his work desk. His outfit of a turquoise turtleneck underneath a white button-top with trousers matching the said turtleneck looked good together, how his ears tingled red after you complimented his newfound inspiration for his book, and the prominent veins in his arms when he rolled his sleeves due to the heat.

The thin brush you held defined the shape of his face, then paying attention to the messy strands of his hair. Stroking in a circular way to outline his eyelids, a hoarse grunt disturbed the peaceful silence.

“Get back in bed, ma chérie.” His eyes drowsily opened, lying on his side. The moment he no longer felt your warmth, he worried something happened. Instead, you’re working late at night after quite a rough yet romantic night.

“Shush,” You shunned him down with your index finger. “Give me a few more minutes.”

“Perhaps, are you painting me?” He hunched from the covers. “Your eyes looking back and forth would never lie to me, would they?”

“Maybe…” You teased, batting your eyes at him without any risky intentions. Or not?

He deeply chuckled, sluggishly removing himself under the covers. In his pure nudity, he advanced himself towards you. You shrieked, covering yourself with your free hand.

“Jaehyun, stay back! I told you I’ll be there soon!”

Not listening, he carried your bridal style, making you drop your precious palette to the fur rug. Laying you carefully, he popped each button open. By the sight of his cock hardening again, you knew you were in for another round with him.

“Wet again, ma chérie? Oh, this will be fun.”

Fin de juillet 1957

So this kind of summer romance concept that everyone fantasized about… it became your present.

Together you’d stroll in the smaller streets and immerse yourselves in the unique culture of the village. Whenever anyone saw you together, holding hands, biking, or what-not, they’d praise in the name of love for bringing you both together. A romance like yours in the countryside was a lively sight.

Remember how extensions were a possibility if your search for inspiration wasn’t found? Well, it’s not a question that you’d make one, except inspiration found you instead. And he had one arm around you as he slow danced with you in the open grounds of the village, listening to the live band covering song classics.

In particular, Chet Baker. He was Jaehyun’s favorite artist at the moment.

There was an ongoing week-long festival dedicated to summer, giving more plants their bloom and spreading gratitude to the hardworking people. Especially the students, off on their break.

The faint radiance from the post lights as Jaehyun swayed you around, making you laugh as he tried to mumble the lyrics of the song. All those glasses of wine he tried earlier with you from the bartender offering it for free had its effects, and you weren’t off the hook from them either.

Blisters started to form from your ankles, adjusting to the new pair of heels Jaehyun gave (or insisted to buy) you a while ago after staring at them like lasers. You’ve always provided things for yourself that being spoiled by someone else felt weird to you.

“If there’s anything you want me to buy for you, just tell me.”

“How can I buy you if you’re already mine?”

His smooth talk often made you punch his shoulder, but it’s just a mechanism to hide the exhilaration.

Under each other’s spells in your dance, you laid your head on Jaehyun’s chest. Feeling the strong beat of his heart, you were reminded of how much life he’s filled with. And you became a part of it, in the same way he crossed yours.

Jaehyun’s lips sank to the top of your head, pecking it affectionately. The first-ever summer where he wasn’t stuck at his desk working or drinking his life away with his rich friends in their Parisian homes, it couldn’t get better than this.

“Oiii! Flirtez ailleurs!” (Oiii! Flirt somewhere else!) The distinct voice of Jaemin, handing out pastries to passersby, shouted at the both of you, making you flip your middle finger at him.

“Trouve une copine d’abord, d’accord?!” (Find a girlfriend first, alright?!) You shouted back jokingly, almost falling due to the ache of your feet. Your immodest behavior was censored by Jaehyun’s large palms, not wanting the kids around to see it. Whispering closely to your ear,

“Tu es ivre. Laisse-moi te ramener chez toi.” (You’re drunk. Let me take you home.)

You changed back into your sandals as Jaehyun led you through the different alleys. Your vision was too hazy to navigate, so he had one arm wrapped around your shoulders. The weather grew cold too, shivering your bones so he draped you in his blazer.

“Wait,” You stopped, making him do the same. But before he could ask for your reason, your hands yanked him by his suspenders and your legs walked backward to reach the brick wall. Standing in his 5’11 glory, you were overpowered.

Yet your lips captured his effortlessly, raising to your toes to press yourself closer to him. He moved fast, one arm hugging your waist while the other hoisted your leg up. Tangling around his waist, the urge to move your hips against his crotch couldn’t be contained any longer.

Everyone was probably still out at this time or sleeping. The sloppy sounds you’ve produced were beyond suitable for any audience. Not to mention, the nasty words Jaehyun’s pretty mouth spoke in your ears desired you to fall to your knees.

“Not afraid of getting caught, ma chérie? You want me to ruin you right here, right now?”

“God, Jaehyun,” Your hands tugged his belt forward, the friction it gave to your core twitched the naughty side out of you. “Do it, please.”

The idea of public sex thrilled your mind into overdrive, yet you’ve never done it. In Paris, a city where several people started to know your name, you didn’t need a scandal to be plastered in your resume yet.

Jaehyun himself included, and still opted not to give it to you.

“Another time, ma chérie. Your apartment, now.”

The moment you unlocked your apartment door, Jaehyun was far from gentle like in the mansion. Ripping you out of your frilly dress didn’t take long, so was unbuttoning his trousers down to the floor.

On your knees, his hand gave you a makeshift ponytail as your tongue flicked the slit of his cock. Then slowly taking him inch by inch on your mouth, you’d let out a loud pop when you needed to breathe. Your hands fondling his balls, he groaned from the edge of your bed and tightened his hold on you. Tears formulated in your eyes as you got to swallow him whole, uncontrollably bobbing your head.

He felt like putty when he released, your throat taking the salty base. You hastily unhooked your bra in front of him when suddenly, his hand flicked on the fabric of your panties, cueing you to stop your motion.

“Keep them on when you ride me.”

Straddling on his lap, his head laid against the headboard of his bed. His arms roaming around your back to stabilize you, your fingers pushed your panties to the side as you pushed yourself down his protected length. Your moans became shaky. Up and down, you bounced while bracing on his shoulders.

Against his ear, your moans were harmonious. His hips moved against your beat, hitting your g-spot like the sexual ace he is. His thumb rubbing your clit, you shuttered your eyes at the impending high approaching you like a bus.

“I’m close.” You choked out, the overstimulation overwhelming your nerves.

“Fuck, me too.” He grunted, slapping your butt that made you shriek.

Soon enough, everything hit you both all at once. The knot snapped, and so did your body falling on his chest after a single scream. Panting, Jaehyun pecked on your temple as his cock softened up. Once you returned to your senses, you lifted yourself from his length, laying bare beside him.

His eyes started to fall, but before they did, he muttered huskily. “Je t’aime, (Y/N).”

It was the first time he’s said those words in the way they meant, and he’s more than certain that it’s what he felt with you. Sure, it started as mutual infatuation, but now, it can’t leave. Not on his watch.

Love was a concept unfamiliar to you, but Jaehyun slowly taught you what it was and how it felt like. Books and films may give sneak peeks, but to personally give and receive it back was made possible by him.

From this moment on, you could conclude that yes, you reciprocated it.

“Je t’aime aussi, Jaehyun.”

16 octobre 1957

Autumn made its way to the countryside.

The leaves switched into red-brown shades, the weather in the south was warmer, and the wine harvest was highly anticipated. Jaehyun’s camera was a common item in your outings, taking as many photos as he could so the two of you had something to look back on.

Planned and candid, his range was wide. These were moments that proved that your youth was as happy as you wished it to be. You wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

Painting in his mansion was a regular thing, having new canvases prepared at his patio. There were so many items that amused you there like you could base your entire collection on his home. It’s not like Jaehyun could argue; it meant more time with you whenever you came over.

“Jaehyun, if you smudge paint on me, so help me Go-” He refused to listen to your “threats”, smearing black paint on your cheek.

“You were saying?” He cockily pestered, showcasing his paint-filled fingers. You dipped one of your brushes into the new paint and chased after him without hesitation. The entire evening became a paint war, a laugh fit even after seeing your reflections in the mirror. But before you could clean yourself, Jaehyun’s camera was by your face and he pressed the button.

“Still breathtaking.”

But the middle of the season arrived, that’s where your planned extension you’ve reached its end. The exhibit was next month, getting calls from your boss regarding your return and the paintings you’ll present. You informed her that you already had them mailed to your studio way back, so there’s nothing much to worry about.

All your bags were packed in the private car Jaehyun rented. Here, you’re bidding your goodbyes to every friend you’ve made outside the doors of your apartment complex, saving your last words with Jaehyun.

The night before, he stayed over and helped you pack your last items in luggage bags. He even brought extra clothes for you so you wouldn’t work extra. You’ve talked it out the whole evening through what happens next to ease your worries. In your bed, he opened the wide windows and pulled you under the sheets.

“Write to me.”

“Call me when you’re free, or whenever you feel like it.”

Leaning against the railing of the stairs, watched the sorrow in your face over this parting. He sensed how bittersweet everything was, but he wouldn’t change anything about it. He’s positive that your story won’t end here, not right now.

Sauntering to him, you sighed whilst taking your bag he held the whole time from him. His touch was tighter as the two of you hugged tenderly, nuzzling his head on your shoulder. The scent of his citrus cologne that implanted in your brain felt comforting, despite the uncertainty of everything between you.

You hinted a minty taste from the menthol candies from his home as his lips brushed yours, colliding it timely. He waited when everyone left, relishing these last seconds.

Stepping inside the vehicle, you waved your summer love farewell one more time before the driver hit the pedal. Your eyes couldn’t stray away from looking back, the distance between him and your former apartment widening. Only when he was no longer in the frame, you shifted your focus back in front.

Your fingers fiddled with the charm bracelet he gifted you from the market. It was custom-made by a jeweler who was great friends with his mother in his younger years. There were two pendants chained on it: a paintbrush and the sun.

“A paintbrush to remind you of your passion, and the sun to remind you of the summer we first met.”

The man was like one of his romance books, in human form. He knew how to catch your breath effortlessly.

Your stay, for now, may have concluded, but there was always next summer. And the ones after that. The village felt like a second home, one you can’t neglect like the other places you’ve lived. Then having Jaehyun here, the more reasons to return.

Undoubtedly the best vacation you’ve ever been in your adult years, one that didn’t sacrifice for your art so you could compete with other artists. The weight on your chest poofed into thin air, and you felt ready for what the next steps as a painter were.

Appreciating the greenery you passed by, you peeked over the side mirror of the car only to find Jaehyun quickly biking in your direction.

Now, what was he up to?

You instantly requested the driver to slow down his pace, rolling down the window of the car. Not caring about the strong winds, “You fool, what are you doing?!”

Although he trusted your last words, he had the greed to see your face again. It would be a long time until he’ll see you in person again. So he pedaled as fast he could to still reach you. Oh, the things you do when you’re in love.

“Mon cœur bat la chamade pour toi, (Y/N)!” [My heart beats loudly for you, (Y/N)!]

You giggled at his silliness, throwing out flying kisses.

“Je reviendrai bientôt, Jaehyun!” (I’ll come back soon, Jaehyun!)

21 octobre 1957

Only your friends at the studio gave you a warm welcome back, receiving comments like “get back to work” from your first encounter with your boss. Popping a champagne glass open after work hours on the rooftop of your studio, they interrogated you with all the questions they could think of.

“So this village in Provence…. was it beautiful as the tourists said?” Ten, who moved from his home in Thailand to Paris at a young age, expressed his curiosity whilst leaning against the railing overlooking the Eiffel Tower.

“Beautiful is an understatement, Ten. I miss it dearly!” You heaved a sigh, twirling your glass.

“So this inspiration you were looking for…” Amélie, your dear friend since your university days, created some tension as she prolonged her last word. Playfulness twinkled in her eyes, crossing her legs. “Was a person involved by any chance?”

For a moment, your throat almost gagged on the sizzling alcohol going down.

“What do you mean?” You acted clueless, pouring your now empty glass with more booze. But the moment Ten gave you the troublesome look coordinating with Amélie, you already knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it. These two were such gossips in and out of the studio.

Ten took the seat across you on the table and leaked all his pent-up information.

“So you know Seo Youngho, the only son of the Seo family. Rich, socialite, a total hotshot… yeah, all that jazz.” He dived in, seeing you nod over knowing that man. Someone in the past you’ve slept with, but that’s another story. “Well, Amelie and I attended one of his parties at his large penthouse. He had his usual crowd there; Kim Doyoung, Lee Taeyong, Nakamoto Yuta, and Lee Minhyung. But fun fact: there’s another member in that friend group who doesn’t go to these kinds of events.”

“Here’s where it gets interesting,” Amélie excitedly took off like the pipelette (chatterbox) she is. “Youngho, who was talking to us for a bit, asked where you’ve run off. Poor him, he must’ve missed you in his bed but anyway! We told him that you went down south somewhere in Provence for a break. Oddly enough, he mentioned how the mentioned member moved back there for the same reason.”

Ten and Amélie gave each other another frisky look, merely to piss you off. So predictable of them.

“Get to the point please!” You screeched.

“Jeong Jaehyun, ever heard of him?” Amélie imitated your tone of voice. “I mean, you should since you made a whole painting of him.”

“H-How,” Speechless, that’s what you were. Ten went on a fit of giggles, signaling the build-up of his intoxication.

“Youngho visited the studio to find a specific painting for his home, and we helped him in choosing. Then when your deliveries of paintings arrived that day and were unwrapped, the look on his face when he saw Jaehyun’s painting was priceless. Things started to add up, especially when he told us that he called up Jaehyun prior, he said that Jaehyun was seeing a girl during his stay there.”

“A young, burnt-out painter from Paris, to be specific.”

They’ve put you on the edge of the cliff, and it was too close to call it a coincidence. Of all things to be revealed, this had to be the first.

“Well, I was waiting for another time to tell you guys about him though.”

Their gasps of joy could give you guys a noise complaint by the neighbors, telling all about your escapades of him and you. During it, the more you missed seeing him daily either on his bike or his car. It was stuck in your routine, but now it’s reverted to your old one.

Could the next summer come any faster?

14 février 1958

Perhaps your newest collection at the Louvre was your most successful one yet.

Entitled “Inspirez, Expirez” (Breathe In, Breathe Out), your sceneries during your stay in the village varied. An old couple slow dancing under the night sky, and the quiet district of shops Jaehyun took you, those were some of your last additions.

A multitude of positive reviews on the newspapers and art magazines came in, commending on taking on a fresher, brighter outlook for a change whilst finding your spark again. As fulfilling it was, what you longed the most was the one responsible for it.

Lately, it’s been tough to contact him. His maids always answered the calls, informing you that he was busy with work or family matters. It’s so rare for him to act like this. Whatever it was, it wasn’t grand or serious hopefully.

Back to your collection, tonight was the last night of it. Just in time for Valentine’s day, where numerous socialite lovers embarked on this event, but you’re more fixated that it was also Jaehyun’s birthday. A boy full of love born on the day dedicated for it, things made more sense. In case, you’ve sent your birthday wishes to him through letter and passing the message to one of his maids. Even on his special day, he hasn’t reached out to you.

But to momentarily forget about that, there was a closing ceremony held for this exhibit with the other artists involved, and it was your turn to give your final remarks. More esteemed socialites and journalists were present, which didn’t halt your nerves the slightest. You were a professional after all, holding pride in your craft as you stood in front of the microphone wearing your new favorite custom-made gown.

There are perks when you have close friends in the fashion industry, specifically Kim “Key” Kibum from the House of Key. After defending him from a disrespectful client when you were picking up a dress for your boss during your internship years, not only did you earn his respect, but an invite to his shows and first claiming of new items from his collections. Dining in expensive restaurants in the metro was a plus, catching up on your lives. Sometimes calling each other out for your sexcapades too.

Speaking of him, he was in the crowd that night, ordering every photographer to take photos of your gorgeous self in one of his dresses. Or in your opinion, bribing some by how he stuffed a few thick stacks of Euro bills down their pockets.

Only one of it ever made. A dark green satin v-neck off-the-shoulder gown, where diamonds adorned your neck and ears and white stilettos kept your perfect balance. Also courtesy of Key.

Because it’s the winter season, he gifted you a limited edition white fur coat every socialite tried getting their hands on. Your hair was styled in a bun, emphasizing your dark tinted lips from this new lipstick Amelie insisted you buy.

Most people would get the first impression that you were one of the socialites, a child from one of the affluent families even. But you were a lot more remarkable than that, having inborn talent in the arts that you specialized over your youth and rising to the top without any parental help.

“Thank you to everyone for their endless support towards the magnificent collections of each artist present. As for mine, I am grateful to rechannel my creative side by taking a break. Rather than romanticizing overworking our bones to the core, there’s nothing wrong with taking a step back from the pressure. Being alive is a blessing, realizing further how our youth won’t stay with us forever. Being away from the boisterous cities, I found relaxation in the countryside of Provence.”

Your lips quirked into a grin as every single memory during that time reeled in your head like a movie. “The beauty of Provence cannot be simply put in words. The muses I’ve encountered were more than lovely, especially the man behind the Poetic Rose. With that, I sincerely thank everyone from my bottom of my heart and I hope to continue to support me in the years to come.”

The applause roared once you stepped down the platform, shaking hands with every esteemed guest with more gratitude as they praised you. These days, socializing with them was a lot easier. You’ve even taken more initiative to greet people first before they do, conversing with them easily about anything.

Key definitely noticed that as you toured him around your section, holding his nth glass of wine for the night.

“You, Madame (Y/N), transformed into a social butterfly.” He nudged your shoulder, smirking once he got a better view of his favorite painting from you. “I guess that’s the thing when you’re in love.”

“I beg your pardon?”

With this free hand, he motioned it up and down at the painting in front of you. “The Poetic Rose is none other than the youngest son of the Jeong family, whom I’ve met through his older sister, Krystal.”

“Am I really the only one who doesn’t know him?!” You stressed, jokingly. Key was elated to capture you in his trap, the changes of your personality too evident in his eyes. Figuring it out that it was love took a while, but being acquainted with Krystal, she’s the one who told him that her younger brother was in love with a painter in Provence. Do the math.

“I’ve met him through his older sister, one of my highly favored clients. He’s not much of a socialite like her, so I don’t really blame you for that.”

Searching for a waiter to refill your wine glasses, a surprise emerged the both of you.

“Madame Krystal, you’re absolutely stunning.”  Key complimented her, giving the engaged heiress of Jeong Tea Inc. kisses on the cheek as respect. Her recent engagement to Kim Donghyun, her childhood sweetheart and also the heir of Kim Couture, was the talk of the town.

They arrived at the event together, drawing the attention of everyone in the room earlier. Now, he was speaking to a few influential socialites he made a deal with this week about the art collections present.

“Key, you never fail to look fantastic,” She remarked positively, poking his necktie before placing her undivided attention on you. “So you must be (Y/N) (Y/L/N). You’re beyond bewildering in that gown.”

“Flattered to hear that, Madame Krystal. Such a pleasure to meet you.”

The three of you chatted as if you were the only people there. From art, passion, and love, pride filled in your chest when you toured your collection. It was like walking down memory lane for her, adding out how she used to climb the peach tree with her younger brother during their childhood. Once her eyes laid on Poetic Rose, she took her time admiring it.

“My younger brother grew up well. That’s all I could ever hope for as his only older sister.” She paused, noticing how silent you became when you stared at the painting along with her. She observed the passion lit in your eyes, yet there was longing behind it by the way your lips pouted briefly. “You must really love him, do you?”

“I do, truly. After meeting him, not only was I boosted with so much ideas, but my heart embraced him for what and who he is in this universe.” You professed confidently, earning an approving smile from Krystal.

“If that’s how you feel, why not tell him that yourself?”

Her fingers gestured you to turn around. Stood in a grey suit with his brown hair slicked back, it was like seeing a completely new person. A handsome one though. His fashion in the countryside heavily differed from his fashion in the cities. So sophisticated and refined, he looked like a prince straight out of a fairytale.

Your fairytale.

“Jaehyun.”

It’s like everything stopped once he sprinted towards you, pulling you off your feet for a snug hug. Your arms threw themselves on his neck by instinct, not wasting a single second in his grasp. Your nose inhaled the woody scent of his cologne, something more formal than his usual fruity scent.

The smell of aftershave in his jaw couldn’t go ignored either, assuming that he must have had plans to go out tonight. Nonetheless, you squealed as if you were back in Provence, giggling at his boldness. Once he put you down, neither of you could get your hands off each other.

“What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you’d be in Paris!” Clutching your waist, you gazed at him with doe-like eyes, instilling confusion.

“J’ai voulu te surprendre, my chérie.” (I wanted to surprise you, my darling.)

He chuckled, pushing some straying strands of your hair behind your ear. His eyes evoked so much endearment towards this elegant look you prepared, making his heart race as if he were in the gardens of his manor again.

Hearing his petname for you again attacked your heart every time no matter how much time passed, he lifted your chin high. Jaehyun urged himself to kiss you senseless right there, leaning lower. And yes, you anticipated it by how your eyes instantly closed.

Only if it weren’t for Krystal to clear her throat, obviously ruining the mood. Flinching away from your sensual lover, you rubbed the nape of your neck. Towards an heiress like her, it must’ve been unprofessional.

“Couldn’t you at least wait until I left, younger brother?” Her fingers flicked Jaehyun’s forehead, a teasing trick they used to do as kids. Even if she was a lot shorter now, it didn’t mean the impact was weak. He cursed under his breath, covering his forehead.

Stifling your laughter was a failure, crinkling your eyes to unleash your emotions. So this is what their sibling dynamic was like?

“Now excuse me, older sister. You didn’t tell me you were visiting the exhibit after my birthday dinner with our parents?” He crossed his arms, exchanging a judgmental look. For his sake, he wanted to maintain his pride. “All you said after dinner was that you were going straight home with your fiancé after all the alcohol mother gave you because it made you lightheaded.”

“Well, you know Key and his persuasiveness. He insisted I attend this event last minute because all the collections were amazing.” She explained, shedding a subtle glance at you. “Plus, it’s an excuse to finally meet this lovely girl you raved so much through your letters.”

Jaehyun kept his family life private, so this piece of information was new to you. The unpredicted way the fluttering feeling drew in your stomach, all you could do was smile from the flattery.

“He spoke about me to you?”

“More than speak, my dear. He practically professed his love for you, asking me advice on how to court a girl, make them smile, etcetera. You’re the first girl he’s been this affectionate with, and I completely understand now.” She patted your shoulder, hopeful. She had such a strong older sister vibe, reminding you of your older siblings back home. “You’re a clever, talented woman. I look forward to seeing you more often.”

As you nodded in approval, she turned towards her brother with her recurring teasing look. “Yah, Jaehyun. You better take care of her. If she ever sheds a tear because of you, I’m hunting you down in the gardens.”

“Harsh of you, Krystal.” He planted his hand on his chest, feigning pain. “But no worries. Having you and mother around me kept me well-mannered towards women growing up.”

Playfulness aside, Krystal felt honored towards her younger brother. Men these days maintained their sexist beliefs and rudeness, especially those who doubted her high position in the family business once her father stepped down. Nowadays, it’s men like Jaehyun who could really challenge the patriarchy and make women pursue a lot more than being limited as a housewife.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Now please excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”

Krystal waltzed her way out without tripping from her slight intoxication, which Jaehyun worried about earlier. But anyway, that left him alone with you. Filled with so many questions, you didn��t know where to start.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to Paris? Why didn’t you acknowledge my birthday wishes to you? Why aren’t you answering my calls and letters?” You blurted without wasting a breath, weren’t trying to come off as needy, but it became peculiar when he was contacting you like usual.

You pushed off thinking of the worst scenarios, not wanting it to ruin your drive and your emotions either. Yet you trusted Jaehyun enough to know he wasn’t the type of person either.

“Okay slow down, ma chérie.” His hands maneuvered for you to stop for a bit. “Ask me one by one and I’ll give you a solid answer for each while we roam around.”

He arrived in Paris last week, which was initially for work. Then his birthday clashing was a coincidence. It would be too lonely to go home and celebrate his special day alone, so he extended. But again, it’s his work that caused his abrupt contact.

When you were too busy delving into the success of recovering your inspiration, he also found his spur to write again too. Day and night, his mind kept him tedious with an endless trail of thoughts and words. Overall, he finalized it then brought the end product to the same publishing house where his books in the past went through.

In fact, he decided to publish them specifically today on his birthday. The only day in his itinerary he planned, where after publishing, he’d hang out with his friends, have dinner with his family then run off to reunite with you.

“I didn’t intend to make you feel like a second choice, so please forgive me for that, ma chérie.”

“All is forgiven, Jaehyun.” You held both his hands, kissing them tenderly out of habit. “I’m overjoyed that you rekindled your creative side again.”

You were so understanding and empathetic, and Jaehyun aimed to act that way too. He learned so much from you as his friend before being his lover. Quickly enough, you’re both back to his portrait in the center. Like a critic, he narrowed his eyes and scrunched his nose. Tapping his chin with his finger,

“This man in Poetic Rose, he’s quite dashing.” He commented with conceit, walking closer to it to view it better. “His freckles are on point, his dimples and dazzling eyes too. Why exactly is he described as a Poetic Rose?”

“Well sir,” You stood beside him, imitating his actions. “This man here always spoke so eloquently, like he had a very poetic approach on life. He reminded me also of a rose by his rosy tinted cheeks and his beauty. He was alluring inside and out.”

“Is he your favorite muse?”

“I never quoted him as a muse because he’s more than that. Muses can be replaced once they no longer serve purpose towards the artist. Though with him, he’s the never-ending flame that I want to keep for the rest of time."

You held on to his hand, interlocking your fingers with his. The apparent reddening of his ears proved that he was flustered, yet you spoke no lies.

“Joyeux anniversaire, ma flamme.” (Happy birthday, my flame.)

“Merci beaucoup, ma chérie.” (Thank you, my darling.)

Something about his new release piqued your attention so you brought it up again.

“So tell me about your new book.”

“Let me show you instead.” Inside the blazer, there was an inner pocket that sealed a small hardbound book. Taking it out, he handed it over to you. “This is your copy.”

The cover of the book had an illustration of two young adults running down the fields under the bright sun, with the title written in cursive and placed in the center.

“L’Été de 1957.” (The Summer of 1957.)

Like a child who received a new gift in the mail, you flipped the book open. Seeing the table of contents and credits to other important people involved in the process, there was a detailed dedication right before the starting chapter. It’s an unexpected page, noticing that he never put anything like this in his last works.

“Pour ma chérie, qui a peint les couleurs manquantes de ma vie.” (For my darling, who painted the missing colors of my life.)

Although Jaehyun planned to write about the couples he met in the countryside, he chose to change his perspective. Instead, he based this new book on your summer romance, installing more original characters who made your romance blossom more.

“I was once so engaged in listening to people’s love stories, hung up on what they felt.” He expounded, pacing around the floor whilst you skimmed through the pages. There were black and white photos from your adventures too to wrap the reader further in the story.

“While I was struggling to find the next story, I realized late that my story with you was a perfect choice. When I fell in love with you, it’s like I didn’t have to fret anymore about anything. Everything slowly yet surely aligned into place for me. Like how we found inspiration in each other.”

A poetic speaker meant having a poetic, wise mind. You kept an open mind whenever Jaehyun shared his thoughts on life with you, an intimate time that didn’t require using your bodies. Whether you were stargazing or drinking wine by his patio, his soulful personality never changed.

“So I recapped every single memory we had and compiled them,” He resumed, taking a closer step towards yours. His warm hands grasped your waist again, catching a glimpse of your astonished face. Mostly, towards your lips that he missed feeling against his.

“This book expressed my own take on love this time, the one I want to grow in.”

You’d care less if you dropped the book and your coat right there, your major desire to kiss him again was driving your senses to the edge of a cliff. Nothing could’ve braced yourself the second you fervently collided your lips with his. It didn’t feel like you were in this exhibit, but somewhere back in his mansion engulfed in each other’s presence.

Your legs almost melted by your daring move, if it weren’t for Jaehyun’s arm moving upwards to your back to stabilize you more. Your body tingled with goosebumps due to his relaxing fingers all over your body. His tongue caved in your lips, and you couldn’t ban its access.

Such an explicit sight, it felt forbidden as you were inches away from the public crowd. Yet it was the least of your worries if they made a big fuss over it. Jaehyun was here again with you, and that was more valuable to you. He savored every trace of your touches, taking his delicate time with you. No past birthday could defeat this, especially when it’s the first one to celebrate with you. The first of many.

As much you wanted to keep this up for hours, your lungs started feeling constricted of air so your lips timidly let go. Though your hands couldn’t, your overwhelmed eyes couldn’t shift away from the heart-stopping view of your lover. Wherein even after such a fearless session, his eyes fused with love and need with his plumper lips.

“Everything about Provence, especially you, that’s the life I want.” You confessed this concealed secret that’s revolved your head for a while now. Yet its certainty was true.

“Are you sure, ma chérie? What about work?” As an artist, he believed you should stay where everything is accessible. Yet as his woman, he wanted you to follow your heart. Jaehyun didn’t want you to choose or struggle.

“I’ve grown out from the idea that the city life was the only life meant of an artist like me.” You replied, confident enough to discuss it after deep thought. “Cities like Paris hold exciting, vigorous flames that will have you clinging on to them. But then, they’ll eventually die the longer you stay. You get burned in the process too. However, I stand by what I said earlier. I found an endless flame when I met and began loving you, Jaehyun. It doesn’t sting at all; it illuminates strongly every living day.”

Urging him to lower his stance with your fingers, you stated one last phrase. “Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be.”

“If that’s the case,” Jaehyun acknowledged, sticking his arm out for you. “Let’s get out of here.”

Astounded expressions crowded the socialites in the event as they watched the both of you exit together. If the news of Krystal and Donghyun weren’t crazy enough, some journalists figured the mysterious man behind The Poetic Rose and spread it like wildfire.

How was the youngest son of the Jeong family turned renowned romance novel author connected to the impressive, up-and-coming painter from London?

What really went down in Provence?

“How can you miss out on the signs? Did you not see them share a kiss earlier?” Key protested to those who weren’t approving whatever relationship you guys had. He loved his tea but hated those who simply were money hungry. Wanting a chance to be a part of the rich family, only to fish them out of their riches sooner or later.

Meanwhile, the winter season didn’t stop any of you from roaming the streets of Paris. Moments like these were a preview of the future you’ve envisioned with Jaehyun. Youthful, free, and fiery, a love between two artists created more magic not just in their crafts but to those around them.

Promenading a street overlooking the Seine River, Jaehyun took out a smaller instant camera from his pocket and took a candid shot of you. Stunned, you slapped his chest with your bag.

“Hey! Just how many more things are hidden in your blazer?”

“Just my wallet and a few condoms. Why’d you ask?” He raised a suggestive brow, feigning good intentions.

You hummed, faking your deep thought mindset. “At this rate, I don’t think we’ll make it back to my apartment alive.”

Jaehyun tugged you by your coat, his lips hovering your ear to whisper. “If we call a cab right now, I can finger you in the backseat.”

You chuckled at his vulgar idea, but it seemed ideal. You loved the thrill of getting caught or having someone overhearing you two, just like him. Besides, his fingers don’t match up to yours when you touch yourself alone in your apartment. You bat your eyelashes, giving in.

“Deal.”

6 ans plus tard (1964)

Summer returned, the sun strongly smiling down to the plentiful flowers at your family garden. By the patio of your home, your canvas was already laid by the easel stand. Shades of yellow were applied first to symbolize the brightness of the day, following the outline of your desired scenery for this piece.

Dipping the brush in water to change colors, you took another glance at the breezy sky. Light blue with clouds resembling soft pillows, you inhaled gently as your brush faintly stroked the canvas again.

Your hair was tied in a bun, meaning that you’re in for a busy session. But a more soothing one as the jazz music flowed from the vinyl player inside. Stress was the last thing you needed right now.

“What’s madame artiste up to right now?” Your husband piped in from behind, placing down a tray of tea and crackers. With some top buttons of his white top left unattended, you glimpsed on his toned chest when he leaned down. But you mustn’t pry whilst working, even when temptation was calling your name repeatedly.

“The summer sunshine healed me of my discomfort, so I think it’s about time I painted again.” You chewed on the snack, looking back and forth to the view. As enchanting as all the flowers you and him planted over the years grew, you’re more amused by a little boy strolling around it with his magnifying glass and tiny wooden basket with his furry puppy by his side.

His tiny legs often troubled the two of you because he enjoyed spending time with nature. Only God knows what he found in the garden this time.

“Adrien est explorer encore. Devrais-je lui dire qu’il change de place, ma chérie?” (Adrien is exploring again. Should I tell him to change places, my darling?) Jaehyun cautiously asked, not wanting his 3 year old son to impair your perspective.

“Non,” (No,) You held on to his hand, kissing it sweetly. Although you peeved any unnecessary details found in your scenery in the past, Adrien was an exception. As his mother, it’s hard to say no to him unless necessary.

“Il est un garçon curieux, alors il devrait explorer et flâner où il veut.” (He’s a curious boy, so he should explore and wander wherever he wants.)

Life ever since you returned to the countryside shifted into something more precious than you imagined. From moving places constantly, you found a home to settle in for good. A home with overflowing love and inspiration. A home within Jeong Jaehyun.

Recently, you halted your work-related activities in Paris and came home because you were heavily homesick. It even affected your health as a whole. So you made adjustments with your schedules, postponing appearances to events to next year.

On the plus side, you could be more active as a mother to Adrien. It felt like you burdened Jaehyun to take care of Adrien most of the time because he mainly worked from home, wherein important people who wanted to meet him would have to fly out to the countryside.

Back and forth to Paris, your presence towards Adrien often lacked. Here came your biggest fear, which was Adrien forgetting you. But Jaehyun told you over and over again that it wasn’t the case. As he listened to every wrenching thought you had, but he’d combat it with heartfelt words of reassurance so you wouldn’t overanalyze things.

He vowed to love and take care of you when times get hard, and he will continue doing so.

Remember when you said how his mansion felt too big?

It no longer did after getting married.

It gave more room to grow and breathe more life into it. When Adrien was born, he was the prime reflection of your and Jaehyun’s love. He mirrored his father’s physical traits but with a daring personality like yours. A perfect mixture, the world worked amazingly to bring a boy like him into your life.

“Maman! Papa!” Adrien bolted to where you and Jaehyun stood. From the clothes he wore, it’s very much clear that his father was in charge of it whilst you slept in the entire morning. Suspenders, capri shorts, a white shirt, and a red beret, he deserved his title as Jaehyun’s mini-me.

Jaehyun swelled with pride and love for his only son, peeking over what he brought to show and tell you both. “Oh Adrien, what do you have for us today?”

In his basket, there were 3 sunflowers stuck out from the edge. It’s been a while since you’ve seen some in full bloom, lowering your stance to get a more vivid view. He took them out to hand them to you and your husband.

One flower for Jaehyun and two for you. You let out a gasp, scrunching your brows to the center. He always gave one of each item to you and Jaehyun, never more or less.

“Ooh, deux fleurs pour Maman. Pourquoi, Rien?” (Ooh, two flowers for Mama. Why, Rien?) Jaehyun let his nickname out for his lips while you grasped his small hand.

“Well, I heard from Olivier next door that on his birthday, he gave extra flowers to his mother so he could have another sibling. And it worked!” He spoke so innocently, yet it hitched a choke from Jaehyun’s chest. Your eyes widened from disbelief. The information he collected due to his curiosity, no boundaries truly.

“Le mois prochain, c’est mon anniversaire. Je me demandais si je peux avoir un frère ou sœur comme Olivier? Tu es toujours occupée, comme Papa. Je ne veux plus être seul, alors je veux une amie aussi.” (It’s my birthday next month, and I was wondering if I can have a sibling like Olivier? You are always busy, like Papa. I don’t want to be alone anymore, so I want a friend too.)

You exchanged looks with Jaehyun, not knowing how exactly to respond. Although you and Jaehyun did agree that you wanted more than one child when you were younger, neither of you brought it up again since your careers were always loaded with plans.

Adrien was a surprise child actually, conceived on the night where you and Jaehyun celebrated after L’Été de 1957 was announced to be the best-selling romance novel of the decade in the country.

In Paris at his family home, where his parents brought out all their prized liquor, the two of you drank the entire night away to the point Krystal and Donghyun had to push you away from each other from your public affections because their children were present.

But it didn’t stop you two once you reached his bedroom, far away from everything and everyone. And you’ll never change it.

“Oh, Rien,” You eased in, consoling him. “Je suis désolé. Mais c’est franchement une grande demande, n'est-ce pas?” (I am sorry. But that’s quite a big request, right?)

“Mom and I will think about it first, okay? Another kid is a big responsibility, and you’ll be their older brother. That’s another important job, can you do it well?”

“Yes, I can, Papa!” He beamed with glee, his covered head patted by his father after. As you placed the sunflowers beside your palette, Adrien then proceeded to ask you if he could paint with you like old times.

Never you refuse especially with his sparkling round eyes and chubby face that makes you want to squish every time.

As you lifted his light body to sit on your lap, you placed your brush between his stubby fingers and carefully aimed in whatever angle seemed fit so the painting process would run smoothly and perfectly. He let out sounds of amazement when the strokes get bigger, jumping slightly too because the picture became more vivid. You’d smile and coo at him, commending whenever he followed instructions well. As his mother, you only encouraged your child in whatever they want to excel in.

Adrien was the child of two artists, so it was only natural that he had an artistic side in his veins.

Too caught up in your fun, hearing the automatic shutter of the camera from your side was delayed. The source was none other than Jaehyun hiding behind his camera. Jaehyun’s heart soared at the heavenly view of the most important people in his life, wanting to treasure the moment as a lovely memory.

“Hey!” You shouted, placing down the messy brush by the palette. “Je suis très laid!” (I am very ugly!)

“Shh! Tu est rayonnant, ma chérie. Papa est juste, Rien?” (Shh! You are glowing, my darling. Papa is right, Rien?)

Jaehyun politely quizzed the peppy boy, nodding excitedly. His dimples deeply showed up, the main trait he claimed from his father.

“Oui, papa! Maman est toujours belle!” (Yes, papa! Mama is always beautiful!)

He exclaimed, pecking your cheek numerously. You squealed, attacking him with tickles and kisses back. His shouts of delight, then he was suddenly carried by your tall husband in the air like he was flying in the sky. Adrien enjoyed that motion highly, ending up on Jaehyun’s shoulders shortly after to play by the garden again.

“Go paint. I’ll take care of him now.” Jaehyun persuaded, roaming through the long rows of flowers in full bloom. Though seconds after adding some strokes to your piece, you let down your hair, put a hat and sandals on, and ran to the cute duo to join them.

And that’s how your family spent the entire afternoon. By the garden, running around and taking photos and short videos from Jaehyun’s camera. Freezing these valuable memories, this was truly the life you loved so much.

After your break, you could convince the company you worked at that you’d prefer fewer trips to Paris and stay in the countryside longer. How badly you’ve wanted to hold your exhibits here instead. Plus like Jaehyun, let influential people visit you. You’ve already made a big name for yourself now, so that should be valid enough.

Dinner time passed by quickly too, eventually putting Adrien to a smooth slumber as you massaged the roots of his soft hair while Jaehyun sang him a lullaby. This was your joint parenting technique with him since he was a newborn, and it worked quickly as lightning.

You redressed into your silk nightgown after bringing your canvas to the master bedroom, opening the balcony doors to invite the cool breeze in. You tweaked some bits of your painting, including a silhouette of your small family. Regarding where to place it, probably by the living room as it matched the theme.

“What a spectacular day, don’t you think, ma chérie?” Jaehyun conversed, admiring the calm movements of your brush. He noticed a quirky smile grace your lips.

“It’s been a long time since we had quality time like that with Rien. He’s a feisty ball of energy these days.” You replied with a nostalgic daze. “It’s so crazy how one day, he was still crawling to us. Now, he could outrun the both of us.”

“Comme le temps passe vite, hmm?” (How time flies fast, hmm?) Nodding, nothing braced for what your husband had in mind. You almost dropped your brush mid-way. Jaehyun’s lips impatiently devoured your neck, his huge hands fondling your breasts. Violently throwing your head back against his chest, a needy moan parted your lips.

“Jae-” His touches reaching south to where you desired him highly, dampening hastily as your legs naturally spread apart. Rushed exhales, “À quoi tu penses maintenant?” (What are you thinking about right now?)

“Rien se sent seul,” (Rien feels alone,) His hot breath whispered against your ear, his fingers dangerously trailing your thin panties up and down. With your hands tightly clutching on his bicep,

“Alors, donnons-lui une amie.” (We should give him a friend.)

Ever since Adrien mentioned such a daring topic, it hasn’t left Jaehyun’s mind the whole day. After seeing you in utter bliss with your son earlier, he found you so majestic and radiant. It’s a different kind of happiness, especially for parents.

Now you went on hiatus, he thought that it was the right time to have another. He enjoyed his younger years with Krystal, and he wanted Adrien to experience it too. 3 years was quite a wait, and it seemed ideal to try again.

From his nude chest, you flipped around to intensely clash his lips with yours. Draping your arms behind his neck, Jaehyun lifted your entire figure from the chair. His hands gripping on your butt, he delicately lowered you down your bed.

Drowning into his sensual kisses with his hands all over you, this could prolong for hours. Reddening love marks started to resurface whilst your fingers tugged on the drawstring of his pajama pants. Jaehyun’s fingers dove under the fabric of your panties, his index finger rubbing figure 8s the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You struggled to swallow your moans, not wanting Rien to hear it. You wouldn’t want to repeat history, covering it as Jaehyun massaging you after a hard day.

“I know you want one too, ma chérie.” His fingers began to drape down the straps of your gown, presenting your breasts in its full, perky view. But before his lips could suck on your erect nipples, you parted momentarily from him and got up on your feet. Pulling up your straps again, Jaehyun simply laid down but he wasn’t pleased from how you left him hanging.

“Où vas-tu, ma chérie?” (Where are you going, sweetheart?)

He was growing impatient. You were never to interrupt such a sexy atmosphere ever.

From one of your drawers in your vanity table, an important, half-opened envelope was hidden. You were supposed to give it tomorrow but now seemed like a perfect time. Reading it as soon one of the maids handed it to you gave you the jitters, but in a positive way. Sitting back down on the edge of your bed, you exhilaratingly passed it to your husband.

“Qu’est-ce que c’est?” (What is this?)

“Ouvre-le.” (Open it.)

Jaehyun slowly opened the edges and once he took out the contents. Reading it thoroughly, he couldn’t believe it as his jaw dropped, pacing from the letter and you back and forth.

“Vraiment, ma chérie?” (Really, my darling?)

It was from a doctor you visited in Paris a few days before you left, who confirmed just exactly what caused your health to go feeble suddenly. You already had one certain suspicion, which you addressed in your leave of absence letter. Amelié, who finally got the position as the head, couldn’t believe her ears and insisted you take all the time off you needed.

“On dirait que Adrien a reçu son cadeau d'anniversaire en avance.” (It looks like Adrien received his birthday gift early.)

Overall, it turned out the headaches and repeated vomiting you mistook as motion sickness from traveling was a surprise hello to your second child.

A girl specifically, thanks to the blood test she recommended.

“Je t’aime, (Y/N).”

“Montre moi combien tu m’aimes, Jaehyun.” (Show me how much you love me, Jaehyun.)

The whole night through, the two of you vigorously celebrated with the moonlight from the windows and a few scented candles set in the room. Wet kisses left on your collarbone, words of devotion exchanged, holding his hand as he groaned from heartily thrusting in you, the number of moans from your lips overlapped with the vinyl playing in the room. The intimacy between you two increased, almost as if you made love for the first time again all those years ago.

Excluding being drenched from the rain.

Once the two of you grew tired, Jaehyun lied down beside you. Wrapping one arm around, one hand trailed down your naked skin again. His wedding band flashed your eyes, reminding you of the commitment you promised each other. For better, and for worse.

Jaehyun promised to love you endlessly as a woman and his wife, and it didn’t cease when you became the mother of his children. He respected how strong you are, physically and mentally. He helped you in any way he could as you endured the struggling process.

At the end of the day, his family was his biggest priority. More than ever now, you needed him as you go through the pregnancy phases again. Specifically, his index finger lingered on your stomach. There was no bump or other signs of showing, except for that glow he complimented you earlier on.

“We met and fell in love over the summer, got married in summer, had Adrien mid-summer, and now found out about our daughter at the start of summer.” He smiled, blessed at all the good he’s received during this time.

“The summer gods must adore us.” Your vacant hand with your wedding band topped his. To love and to cherish. “Ils m'ont amené à toi.” (They brought me to you.)

His power on you was simply addicting, as if your early twenties revisited you. You straddled himself once again, your fingers caressing his face sweetly. When it reached his lips, he placed longing kisses there and pulled you closer again for another kiss on your lips. In between, you mumbled in a silvery tone,

“Then they led us to say I do. Pour toujours et à jamais.”

copyright © 2021 by alluringjae.

[sharkselfies]

The Minds Behind The Terror Podcast Transcript - Episode 1

Since some folks requested it on Twitter, I’ve started transcribing The Minds Behind The Terror podcast episodes! Below the cut you’ll find episode 1, where showrunners Dave Kajganich and Soo Hugh talk to Dan Simmons, the author of the novel The Terror, about episodes 1-3 of the show. They discuss Simmons’s initial inspiration for writing the book, the decisions they made to adapt it into a television series, and the depictions of some of the characters such as the Tuunbaq, Hickey, and “Lady Silence.”

The Minds Behind The Terror Podcast - Episode 1 

[The Terror opening theme music plays]

Dave Kajganich: Hello! Welcome to Minds Behind The Terror podcast. I’m Dave Kajganich, I am a creator and one of the showrunners of the AMC show The Terror, and I’m here in the studio with executive producer and co-showrunner Soo Hugh.

Soo Hugh: Hello!

DK: And we welcome today the author of the sublime novel The Terror, on which our show is based, author Dan Simmons, calling in from Colorado. Welcome, Dan! Hi! 

Dan Simmons: Hi Dave, thank you. 

DK: So let’s start with the very beginning. This was a mystery from actual naval history that you decided to transform into a novel that was crossed with Gothic horror. Can you tell us a little bit about where you got the idea from this, how you went about preparing to write it, anything that can give us insight into how you blended all of these remarkable genres into this incredible book.

DS: I’ve known since I was a kid that I wanted to tell a story about either the North or South Pole. And the reason is in 1957, 58, when I was very young, actually I was just a fetus, they had the international geophysical year, and that really caught my imagination. Now the international geophysical year saw cooperation between American and Soviet scientists, it was the height of the Cold War, that’s the first time they submit(?) a permanent base at the South Pole, and I fell in love with Arctic stories. I had one book left on a book contract with a publisher I really liked, and we hadn’t decided what that book was, and I wanted to write a scary story about the Arctic, in this case the Northern Arctic, and that happened because I was doing a lot of research on Antarctica and just couldn’t figure out what the macabre, Gothic, scary part would be. I wanted to put it in, but I didn’t think they’d go for, you know, an eight foot tall vampire penguin. 

[laughter]

DK: You might be surprised! 

DS: There was a footnote on a book I was reading about the Franklin Expedition, which I had never heard of, and I decided that’s what I was gonna write about, and it had a tremendous amount of the unknown that I could fill in, that’s what novelists love. And so I told my editors excitedly that this was what I was gonna do, I would call it The Terror after the HMS Terror that went with the Erebus, got stuck in the ice, all the crew disappeared in history… And they said no. 

[laughter]

DS: ...it was the first time the publishers did that. I said, “Why not? I think it’s gonna be a pretty good novel.” And they said, “Look, nobody’s interested in a bunch of people that’ve been dead for 150 years.” 

SH: That sounds like some of our meetings.

[laughter]

DS: So I did what maybe you do, in such a meeting, I just thanked them, and I liked them all, and I had a good dinner(?) and I said goodbye, and bought back my last book on the contract and went out and wrote it on spec. 

SH: Well why don’t we take a step back, Dave, and why don’t you tell us about how you found Dan’s book and that experience?

DK: Sure! Dan, you might remember some of these steps from your side of it, which is that originally this was auctioned by Universal as a feature, and I sort of tried to get the rights and was a bit too late, and tracked them down to the producers at Universal who were running the project and got myself hired as the screenwriter for a feature adaptation. By the time I was ready to start actually committing an outline to the paper, Universal had let the rights go because there was a competing project. It was interesting to sort of rack up reasons why people wanted to make it but didn’t feel that they could pull the trigger, and we were so grateful when AMC finally called us back and said, “Look, we’ve figured out a model where we can do this as a limited series,” it really felt like ten episodes was a great length for this, because we could blend genres in a way that, you know, we could unpack sort of slowly, more slowly than a lot of shows would’ve done, and drive the plot as much as we could, like the novel, with character choices and decisions as opposed to just horror kind of entering the frame and taking over for one set piece after another. So it was a long journey, getting this to AMC, but at the end of the day I think we found the right home for it.

DS: I can no longer imagine a two hour version, feature film version of this story, and I can’t imagine a second season of this story, I think it was just right.

SH: It does feel like we did a ten hour cinematic novel. 

[audio from the show]

Crozier: Only four of us at this table are Arctic veterans. There’ll be no melodramas here--just live men, or dead men. 

SH: Dan, Dave and I talk about how addictive the research gets for this when you start going down the rabbit hole, how did you approach the research?

DS: I think most novelists run into that, but since I write a lot of quasi-historical novels, at least set in history, I get totally addicted to going down the rabbit hole. Readers say, “Well, Simmons’ book is too long, and the descriptions of things are too exhausting,” but I watch your characters go on deck and there are all the things and views and everything that I tried so hard to describe and then people tell me, y’know, “talky, verbose,” and in print I have to do it that way, but you just pan the camera a little bit. 

DK: You have words, we have images! For every thousand of yours, we get one!

DS: Yeah.

SH: But I remember this passage in your book where it talks about all the different ices, and you vest it with so much psychological import. We talk about that passage a lot in the writers room, it was one of our highlights, of this is how you do great descriptive writing.

DK: And you made so many parallels between things like the environments of the ships and characters, you built a kind of code book for the show without realizing you were doing it, which is making visual metaphors out of a lot of these things that would normally just be exposition or historical detail.

SH: Well especially between Crozier and the ship, I mean when you hear about Crozier’s relationship with Terror, and you have so many amazing passages about, you know, the groan of the ship and how it, y’know, and you cut to a scene with Crozier and how you feel that the bones of Crozier is embedded in the ship, and we really took a lot from that. 

DS: Well I noticed that on one of the episodes where Lord Franklin [sic] is trying to get back in touch with Crozier, you know, trying to be friends with him again, I think it’s a brilliant episode you guys wrote.

[show audio]

Franklin: You’ve succeeded in avoiding Erebus most of the winter.

Crozier: I’m a captain. I’m--I’m peevish off my own ship. I leave it and I hear disaster knocking at its door, before I’m ten steps away.

DS: And that was beautifully written, that. You got so much of Crozier right there.

DK: It was a pleasure to write these characters on the backs of your writing of these characters, because you really--I mean, it’s not the easiest thing in the world to do, as you know, from having written, you know, a whole long string of historical books, is to make these people’s psychologies feel as modern as they must have felt in their day, while still being able to articulate some of the blind spots of being from the eras they were from. 

I’m curious from sort of a history nerd point of view, if people watch the series and like the series, and read the book and like the book, and want to know more about this expedition, what’s the first book about the Franklin Expedition you would point people to? What was most helpful or most interesting in your research? 

DS: I apologize, I can’t think of the name of it, but it’s a collection of stories about both the South and North Pole, and so it’s a short section on the Franklin Expedition, but it didn’t make mistakes, and most of the other books that I read, uh, keyed, and videos for that matter, like PBS did a story about the Franklin Expedition, but they keyed off a 1987 attempt by several doctors to figure out what happened to the crew, and they exhumed three crewmen’s bodies from the first island where they stayed the first winter, and those crewmen had only been on the ship a couple of months, but they decided because of a high lead content that the lead had poisoned them and then made them stupid, and made them paranoid and everything, but they didn’t compare that test of lead with any background people in London at the time, and later they did, so I didn’t believe the lead thing.

DK: Well that’s the fascinating thing about a mystery with this many parts and pieces, kind of in flux, is, you know, you can create all kinds of competing narratives about it, and what’s fascinating about writing a fictional version is you can’t have that kind of ambiguity, you have to make a decision. I think people will enjoy very much ways that the show and the book have a similar point of view, and also ways that they diverge in their points of view, because there are so many ways to tell this story--

SH: Well you know how much we invest responsibility in the audience as well, right?

DK: Sure.

SH: In terms of your book and our show as well, we’re not against interpretation, that there’s a responsibility on the audience’s part to put together--we’re not gonna hand feed them. There’ll be some people who put more of an onus on Franklin, and others who would say, “You know, if I was in that position, I probably would’ve made the same decision,” “Oh no, this definitely killed the men,” “No, this killed them!” and that dialogue is exciting, you know, when you read fans talk about your show and your books and really smart, insightful ways. 

[show audio]

Franklin: Would it help if I said that I made a mistake? 

Crozier: You misunderstand me, Sir John, I--I only meant to describe why I brood, not that I judge.

DS: I don’t worry about who or what my reading audience is. People ask me about that and I don’t imagine a certain reader. But I’ve always tried to write for somebody who’s more intelligent than I am. My perfect reader would be just smart as hell, speak eight languages, you know, have fantastic world experiences, and I want to write something that will please that person, and I think your show does the same thing.

DK: Well we were--that was our motto! We wanted to be sort of the dumbest members of our collaboration and there’s a sort of horrifying moment when you realize that’s come true. 

[laughter]

[show background music]

DK: Tell us a little bit about why you made the decisions to tell the story in the order you told it, and whether you sort of felt like there was anything from the way you had told it that we were--or a missed opportunity. We’d love to know sort of what your experience of that was. 

DS: I don’t think there were any missed opportunities in terms of not adapting my way of telling it, and I can’t remember all the reasons for why I broke it down that way, some of them were just very localized to, you know, when I was writing that particular bit. But I do know that it gains a lot by being told chronologically the way you’re doing it, so for me that seems now the logical way to tell it again.

DK: Have you ever read the novel in chronological order? When we hired writers for the writers room, we gave them a list of what the chapters were like in chronological order, and I think we asked half the room to read it in your order and half the room to read it in chronological order so we could have a discussion, a meaningful discussion about whether there were things about telling it without being in chronological order that we wanted to embrace or not. It was a fantastic experience and I wonder if you’ve ever read your chapters in chronological order? ‘Cause it’s also a fantastic book!

[laughter]

DS: I haven’t read it that way, they were that way in my mind before I started getting fancy and breaking them up and moving them around in time and space, but I would love to have seen that experiment.

DK: The reason we can get away with it in the show is because there is a loved book out there that people trust, and you know, it is a classic in this genre, so I mean this is a perfect example of, you know, the amount of gratitude we owe the book, because we got away with a lot of things that maybe we wouldn’t have been able to get away with because you came before us. 

SH: And speaking of those rabid fans, Dan, it’s been really interesting reading audience reactions to the show from people who’ve loved the books and who just naturally will compare the two, and we’ve been heartened by just how supportive our fans have become--are of the show. There is this controversy, some people like our choice to give Lady Silence a voice and some people feel it was sacrilege to your book, where do you fall on that? DS: At first I was surprised. In fact when you were hunting for an actress for Lady Silence and I read about that, it said somebody who’s fluent in this Inuit language and this Inuit language, and I said, “What the hell?”

[show audio]

[Silna speaking Inuktitut to her dying father] 

DS: Having seen her with the tongue and heard her, and knowing the different reason they call her Lady Silence, it all works for me and I was also surprised when Captain Crozier could speak fairly fluent, you know, dialect, ‘cause I had him just not understanding a thing.

[show audio]

[Crozier speaking Inuktitut to Silna in the same scene as above]

DS: I love it when readers get rabid about not changing something from a book, and I have to talk to them sometimes, not ‘cause I have a lot of things adapted, this is the first one, but I love movies. They say “Aren’t you worried it will hurt your book?” and first I explain Richard Comden(?)’s idea that you can’t hurt a book anyway, except by not reading it, I mean the books are fine, no matter how bad some adaptation becomes. Books abide, and so I wasn’t concerned. With the changes that I see, I get sorta tickled, whereas some readers get upset, and they just have that set. So I think that the vast majority of viewers haven’t--well, I know the vast majority haven’t read the book, haven’t heard of the book, probably, they’re gonna keep watching because of the depth of the characters, and that’s based on the first two episodes, and I agree with them completely.

[show audio]

[Silna speaking Inuktitut]

Crozier: She said that if we don’t leave now, we’re going to “huk-kah-hoi.”

Blanky: Disappear. 

SH: We get asked a lot of questions about the supernatural element of the show and the way a monster does or does not figure in the narrative, and seeing our episodes, did it feel surprising or did it feel faithful to the way you imagined it as well to your book? 

DS: It was surprising to me at how well it was done, because it’s hard, I know, to show restraint in a series like this, and certainly in a movie, but it’s hard to show restraint at showing and explaining the monster. 

[show audio]

[ominous music, Tuunbaq roaring, men screaming]

DS: The way you did it in the first few episodes to me were just lovely, just, you know, a hint of a glance at something and then you see the results of this creature, so that’s what I tried to do in the novel, one of the reasons I moved around through space and time, part of what I wanted to do was not cheapen the story and not cheapen the reality of these poor men dying by just throwing in a monster, and so I tried to do it in a way that would not disrespect the true tale, and I believe you’re doing it the same way I tried. 

DK: The way you incorporated the supernatural into the book, I mean, I was a fan of it when I first read it. It was jaw dropping the way that it fits so well on a level of plot, on a level of character, and on a level of theme. So when we got the green light to adapt it I was so confident that we were going to be able to do something with it that would be able to be nuanced because the bones of it are so organically terrific.

SH: It helped us know what we didn’t want to do. That formed so much of our conversation, of “this is what we do not want, this is what we do not want,” and slowly you whittled down to getting down to the essence of what this thing had to be.

[show audio]

[Tuunbaq growling]

DK: Another character from the book that really stands out for fans that they are wondering what in the world we’re doing with is Manson. [laughter] And I was curious what you made of the fact that he is pretty invisible in the first three episodes of the show, and that some of his plot beats have been given to a character called Gibson, who I don’t remember is--I don’t think he’s featured very much in the novel. And I wondered if that caught you off guard or if you sort of intuitively had a sense of what we were doing in making that change? 

DS: Any discussion of Manson to me leads to Hickey converting him to his future, his tribe, the tribe he wants to have, group of worshippers, that I think Hickey wants to have, but he does it by sex below decks. Hickey’s not gay at all, he’s a manipulator, to me, and he was manipulating Manson who was big and dumb, in my book, he’s manipulating him by this sexual encounter. But I was curious whether you were worried about showing that?

DK: Well, we weren’t worried about showing characters having same-sex affairs or relationships. We wanted to make room in Hickey’s character for actual affection, or if not affection then companionship, or some kind of connection.

[show audio]

Hickey: Lieutenant Irving! I was hoping we’d meet. 

Crewman: Mind the grease there, sir. 

Hickey: I wanted to... thank you… for your help. For your discretion, I mean. 

Irving: Call it anything but help, Mr. Hickey. Please. I exercised clemency for a man abused by a devious seducer.

DK: We wanted to make sure that Hickey had access to command in some way that a steward, an officer’s steward, would be able to provide him, that an able seaman wouldn’t be able to provide him, and that was really valuable to us in terms of charting out all of these character stories, was how does he know what he knows about how command is dissatisfied or where the fractures are if he can’t see them from where he’s sleeps in his cot in the forecastle. 

SH: I mean we know that there were relations between the same sex on ships, it just was part of this world. Not to belie that there was serious consequences for it, but you know, we have 129 characters, and we wanted them to feel fully fledged and rich, and, you know, passions do naturally develop and have no characters engaged in sexual relations would have felt just as odd and perhaps even more controversial, and when Irving discovers Gibson and Hickey, his shock is from such a subjective point of view of his moral center. It’s not the camera’s perspective, right? Our camera’s very neutral in that scene. It’s Irving, that character at that point in the show, that is infusing a sense of horror, that’s his horror moment.

DS: I’d like to add that it’s not the gay connection that would cause criticism, but I was flayed alive because the most openly quote “gay” unquote character, that is, Hickey, you know, maybe hunting for affection but definitely hunting for power, he’s the only one they said in reviews, and he’s a killer and a bad person, so I’m homophobic, but I was flayed alive for that. The word homophobic appeared in about 80 reviews. Nobody mentioned the purser, who uh--

DK: Right, Bridgens and Peglar.

DS: Yeah. I thought he was a fascinating character. I loved getting glimpses of him in the series because he’s super smart, he’s super wise, he’s probably wiser than any of the commanders, ahd he’s obviously in love with--who is it that he’s in love with in the show?

DK: Peglar. 

DS: Yes, that makes sense. And, uh, so Peglar says, you know, “Is this another Herodotus?” and, “No, I’m giving you Swift now,” he’s educating the man he cares for. 

[show audio]

Hickey: I understand you cleared up our “association” for Lieutenant Irving? Gibson: You spoke to him.

Hickey: Mhm.

Gibson: Directly?

(beat)

Christ, Cornelius, I’d reassured him.

Hickey: Cornelius Hickey is a “devious seducer.” That was your--that was your reassurance? You’ve got some face, you know that? 

DK: We wouldn’t have dramatized Hickey’s story if we weren’t also going to pull in Peglar and Bridgens’ story, because we knew that people, you know, are predisposed to sort of make that kind of quick assumption, and we just wanted to make sure that the show didn’t have that blind spot and reflected the book, which also doesn’t have that blind spot. 

SH: We had those same questions with Lady Silence, and I’m sure you did as well. When we meet her, she’s a frightened young woman who’s about to lose her father, and that’s a universal character moment that anyone can relate to, and the otherness is sort of--is secondary, but then once--in the end scene of 1.02, when she’s sitting there grieving her father and then you have that language barrier with everyone else, we worked with Nive on this because we wanted to make sure the language itself was as accurate as possible, so when you say disappear making sure that the disappear in our language means the same thing as disappear in her language. I think whenever you have characters that feel othered in most media and you’re bringing them into your show, Dave and I also just wanted to make sure we weren’t swaying on the pendulum on the other side and being almost too careful about touching them, and with Nive I think when you have an actor of that talent, she was strong, she was representing a voice that she felt very confident in, and that was very reassuring for us.

DS: And it works well, and when her father’s dying, she throws herself on his chest and says “I’m not ready, it’s too soon, I’m not ready,” and I love that in the show because if she’s gonna become a Shaman he’s dying you know it’s not reached that point of education yet where she feels secure and later on you know beyond what we’re discussing today she becomes to me in the show I see her as more and more majestic.

SH: I do love the word majestic ‘cause I think it describes pretty much all of our characters. I agree, I do think there is something very sublime about who they have become at the end because when you go through that much trials and tribulations, it’s this beautiful human spirit to endure. 

DS: I think that’s one of the central themes of the story that you’ve brought out so clearly. In most post-apocalypse, you know, terrible situation movies and shows, everybody turns nasty as hell, they start shooting each other, it’s just like WWIII when they should be helping each other survive, and I found even though there was controversy, even though there was opposition in this story, people opposing against each other, still that they rose to the occasion. And that is so rare I think in much media these days or even books where the characters are themselves and they do the best they can, and when things get bad they rise to the occasion.

DK: The first conversation you and I had about the book, you know, I was basically pitching you sort of what I thought thematically the book was about, and I talked a lot about, that in a disaster like this, a kind of moral emergency, that we would get a chance to unpack what is sort of best and worst in these characters’ souls.

DS: I confuse readers often when I was on book tour for this book, and it was a long time ago, I’ve written a few million words since then, but I confused people by saying that if you want a theme for the survival story of The Terror, it’s love. It’s love between the men. And just unstinting love. And this came out in a piece of dialogue, in the first two episodes.

[audio from the show]

Franklin: I’ll not have you speak of him uncharitably, James. He is my second. If something were to happen to me, you would be his second. You should cherish that man. 

Fitzjames: Sometimes I think you love your men more than even God loves them, Sir John. 

Franklin: For all your sakes, let’s hope you’re wrong. 

DS: That to me was right the theme I was working with, and with Crozier who shows it a different way, with Fitzjames who’s struggling to show leadership, and between the men despite their hierarchy and the British hierarchy, the rank and lieutenants and so forth, eventually they come down to loving the men they try to save. And I found that lovely. 

[The Terror opening theme music plays]

DK: Thank you so much for listening to The Minds Behind The Terror, join us in our next edition when we talk about episodes 4-6 with the additional guest Adam Nagaitis phoning in from London. We will see you soon!

[preview snippet from the next episode plays]

DS: I’ll confess something else to Adam, the first time I watched it, I thought your character was a good guy because he jumped down in that grave to put the lid back on.

[laughter]

[owen-not-carvour]

hey y’all guess what. here’s an essay :)

blah blah, Super long post, something something, sorry abt the length (you know the drill by now lol)

“hell, i probably spent as much time hating you as you did”

that line drives me literally insane. the phrasing of it is so fucking important.

this is literally just owen telling curt that a) he knew that he hated himself for what happened, and therefore had a way of keeping an eye on him, but still just decided to Not let him know that he survived (not surprising, if i were him i wouldn’t want to fucking talk to curt either lol) and b) he actually Stopped hating him at some point. sure that doesn’t mean there’s no anger at him still (there Definitely is, see torture tango and the way owen talks down at curt the entire time he’s monologuing) but owen doesn’t hate curt anymore.

because directly after that, he goes on to talk about how he Realized something,, that something being that “perhaps putting the fate of the world in the hands of an arrogant, impulsive brute is simply Not the best option".. owen basically then realizes that it’s not necessarily entirely curt’s fault that he’s the way he is or that owen fell. it’s bc of Spying and all the flaws with the agencies and all that that both of those happened (they gave curt power, and he got too cocky because of it, causing him to make the mistakes which led to owen falling). and Because of that,, owen basically realizes that Both of them are victims because of spying, just in different ways. owen is obviously the one who paid the price for it because he fell,, but curt had basically been being keyed up by the agency because of his reputation and being labeled as the Best,, and true or not that got into his head and made him Too proud and subsequently careless. so Yeah. owen realizes that the Root of the problem is the agencies and spying (chimera’s whole thing) and that they could stop suffering if those didn’t exist anymore. (this also ties into everything owen says during the staircase scene but we’ll get there).

also, by saying “i probably spent as much time hating you as you did” owen thinks that curt has already stopped hating himself for what happened. and while this Is true in a way,, because Yeah curt’s starting to move on (albeit Slowly,, though he’s still doing better than owen…) but i don’t think he has actually truly forgiven himself for owen falling. he’s just started the process to getting there. but owen obviously thinks that he already Has.

side note before i elaborate on this: one of the big problems in talking abt this line like this and trying to make points with it is that spies has the most ambiguous timeline like Ever. all we know is owen falls in 1957, and curt comes back to spying in 1961. this line doesn’t tell me how far into those 4 years owen realized the thing abt spying and stopped hating curt. it doesn’t tell me when he thinks curt stopped hating himself. it just tells me that that’s what owen did and what he thinks.

though i Do think that he would’ve been in chimera from very early in those 4 years bc of the dma and just how he talks abt it,, so tbh i think that owen just overthought Why he hated curt one day and realized that what happened wasn’t Entirely his fault (well. the Fall was,, but the reason he was so careless wasn’t. bc i think owen could see some of the same arrogance in himself- he Did tell curt to set the timers to 4 minutes after all- and then connected it to the agencies yknow) so yeah i don’t think he hated curt for that long… but this also kinda doesn’t add up bc then again curt hated himself for a Lot longer than that so. idk. (maybe owen just wanted to exaggerate to make it clear that he knew curt hated himself for it?? but yeah no clue. this is hard. i have to remember that i’m just (over)Analyzing and that i’m not Supposed to be an expert here lol)

but anyway, back to what i was saying, as we know, curt has only Started to move on,, because that’s why he’s back to spying in the first place (spy again ofc) but he’s rlly still not doing too great with it yet, as seen by how he tries to just Convince himself that everything is fine, and the flashbacks and just. how Not Great he’s doing in act 1 part 6. but then, enter tatiana,, and she Really helps him start to move on in a much more effective way (legit just by Being there and letting/making him talk. curts lonely as hell y’all.)

but because owen says “i probably spent as much time hating you as you did” it makes me think that he possibly saw/heard abt curt coming back to spying and thought that meant curt finally forgave himself and figured he could just jump back into spying to try and act like nothing had happened (which i mean. that is what he Tried to do,, but as mentioned, he lowkey was Not ready to be back Bc he hadn’t moved on or actually forgiven himself yknow. it’s cycles. everything is a fucking Cycle.) and that idea probably made owen even more angry at him.. even though it was just based on a conclusion he jumped to.. but how’s owen supposed to know that?? he hasn’t talked to the guy face to face in 4 years!! (he’s Also lonely as hell yknow) and because of that, now Nothing owen knows about curt is For Sure anymore, even if he doesn’t realize it.

he thinks he knows curt as well as he used to (“i think i know which one you’ll choose” and all) but he Doesn’t. and the biggest place this comes into play is when he tells curt to move on (yknow. the thing that makes curt kill him). because curt Is moving on!! but owen doesn’t know this bc he’s not there and he Hasn’t been there to see it. yeah it’s a really recent development for him but still !! so it’s rlly interesting to see how owen is just trying to use what he used to know about curt to his advantage but it backfires on him because he really Doesn’t know him anymore. he just has the old curt and whatever warped image of him he’s created in his head over the years to go off of. he doesn’t Actually see or know abt how deeply losing owen hurt curt. all he knows is that he hated himself for it for awhile,, but then (owen Thinks) something made him stop. he likely doesn’t know abt the flashbacks (despite torture tango,, either he didn’t hear it or didn’t understand what it meant yknow. but owen never mentions it so idk for sure) or the alcohol or that the Reason curt came back was bc he wanted to be someone owen would be proud of. and then, as mentioned, he Definitely doesn’t know about how much tatiana has helped him. hm. in a way, because of this.. curts one step ahead of owen. bc despite what owen says, curts the one who’s actually moved on more. hmm) bc that’s another thing that supports this, too. literally Everything (or close to it) that owen says in one step ahead.

however, while owen doesn’t know curt as well as he thinks he does anymore,, on the opposite side of this, curt doesn’t Realize that owen doesn’t hate him anymore. remember how i said we were gonna come back to the importance of owen no longer hating curt in the staircase scene later? here it is, this is now Later. so here’s the 2 most important things to note for this scene: owen doesn’t Hate curt (though that doesn’t mean he forgave or even really Likes curt. it just means he doesn’t hate him) and owen hasn’t moved on.

that being said, by the time we get to the staircase scene, owen still cares about curt a little bit, even if he doesn’t want to admit it to himself. he even starts the staircase scene without his gun cocked(?? idk gun terminology but i think that’s it) and only cocks it after coldest goodbye reprise,, so he didn't even go into that fight with the intention of killing curt. (which is Another thing we will get to, as well)…. but curt doesn’t see this. he doesn’t see just how Close owen is to letting go and breaking and giving up at the end of the staircase scene (bc oh he IS you can see him getting more and more Tired and hopeless as the scene goes on!!)

but the biggest thing is that curt just Doesn’t realize that owen still cares the Slightest bit for him bc he gets thrown off by “that secret died the night you left me for dead” and what that actually means. i’ve mentioned it a Lot but like. it’s such a weird way for owen to phrase that he doesn’t love curt anymore,,, so in True over analyzing fashion, i very literally take that to mean that just their Secret is dead (as well as that owen stopped caring abt it bc he knew if it got out, only curt would get hurt bc he’s Dead) but owen doesn’t know wtf he actually feels for curt anymore,, but he knows that he doesn’t care abt secrets or anything, and that he Did lose his love for curt when he fell. so by saying it that way he kind of leaves it just ambiguous enough for curt to come to his own conclusions abt what he means by it,, and it doubles as owen’s attempt to maintain his upper hand (one step ahead) somehow,, though he Loses that power directly after that line bc it backfires on him bc he Again incorrectly assumed he still knew everything about curt and how to manipulate him to make the staircase scene go in his favor,,,,,,,, which Very Much So doesn’t work. (told you it all ties together :))

but i digress,, curt thought that his owen was completely gone and that he was basically only looking at the shell of the man he once trusted and loved (which is what he took the secret line to mean) but that's only Partially true,, bc owen wasn't Completely gone.. he was still in there,, though not by much (see he Thought that part of him was dead. but it’s not!)… it's why he never kills curt. curt kills owen bc he thinks the owen he knew is completely gone, bc why else would he have done Everything that he did, and bc he also tells curt to move on... but curt doesn’t realize that that’s not necessarily true.

owen never kills curt despite the literal 5 chances he gets because he just can’t bring himself to. closest he gets is torture tango (which i Will say is very hard to tie into this bc he made it Very clear that that was his goal) but then tatiana interrupts and saves curt. i think that despite how close he got to killing curt,, he still hesitated. like he played it off as just relishing in finally being able to get revenge (and it was definitely Partly that,, not saying that wasn’t true) but in his mind he was probably wondering if this is really what he wanted to do,, which is also why he was susceptible to tatiana’s blow (too many Thoughts paired w focus on curt. no room for anything else).

((oh also, speaking of that,, i Definitely think that owens main goal for curt wasn’t to kill him, despite him Wanting otherwise, but to just Hurt him. really fucking bad. yknow. to show him the horror of staying alive :). it’s the same thing,, he Thought he wanted to kill curt but then after torture tango kind of revised the Plan yknow. like that’s why he doesn’t kill curt at the gala or when he kills the informant.))

but Yeah by implying that he no longer hates curt, owen is basically Saying that he hasn’t moved on (well that and the legit obsession w destroying everything curt stood for kind of says it too) but like. he didn’t make it Clear enough to curt,, so curt didn’t realize this and stopped caring about owen.. and that’s why he Took His Advice instead of keeping him alive and trying to reconcile Something. (bc that’s another thing. no way was he gonna let owen go. it was either he killed him or he took him somewhere. and we know what he chose.)

this isn’t a great conclusion but like. you see how long this post is? you can come to your own conclusion based on alllll of that lol. i am but a vessel for. whatever the Fuck this is :)

if you read this whole thing, and even if you didn’t, thank you for your time.

[entity9silvergen]

I recently asked reddit for some LGBT history from countries other than the US. Here’s what I got:

Germany

The Weimar Republic was surprisingly accepting of "alternative lifestyles."

During the Weimar Republic, Germany had a pretty active LGBTQ scene, with some major films and songs being produced, despite it still being illegal at the time. However, there was also a push to decriminalize homosexual behavior which sadly wasn't passed as the Nazis came to power.

This was based of two factors: after WW1 the authoritarian culture of Prussia sorta received a long overdue pushback. People were kinda sick of it, especially since these losers led them into a seemingly pointless war to begin with. Second: A LOT of men died in WW1 - and the army did not exactly prefer LGBT people. So with a lot of regular folks dead, the percentages of the total populace was sorta shifted. This also pushed the women's rights movements at the time for a similar reason.

Magnus Hirschfeld was helping trans people transition, crossdressers get crossdressing 'licenses', and generally advocating for and helping the LGBT community in the early 1900s in Germany. Nazis ended up raiding and burning down his research institute.

Hirschfeld was a gay polyamorous man. He was one of the first advocates for trans and gay rights but his work was destroyed by the Nazis.

The institute he headed even did the first modern gender affirming surgeries. The institute was destroyed and many people who were there (including the first known person to undergo complete MtF surgery) were killed by the nazis and the place was little more than bombed out ruins at the end of the war.

More information on the institute

Pre Nazi interwar Germany (Weimar Republic)  was pretty open when it came to not only sexuality, but also gender identity. The Nazis put a stop to that & tried to destroy any & all research into either, but, for a brief moment, it was there.

Russia

Pretty sure all Russian LGBT history was erased before we even had a written language, but Russia almost got gay marriage legalized in the first soviet constitution (didn’t happen bc Stalin)

The early soviet period (pre-Stalin) is sometimes called “the first sexual revolution” as opposed to America’s “sexual Revolution” of the 60’s. Broad women’s suffrage, female employment and education, parental leave, advancement of GSM rights & decriminalization of abortion. This unfortunately did not stand the test of time & reactionary sentiment.

Additional Source

UK/ Britain/ England 

The lead singer of Judas Priest is gay. The commenter’s father thought it was kinda funny because it didn’t match with his biker aesthetic, but the commenter doesn’t think he considered how much leather he wears on a daily basis

Hell bent for Leather was a track off Killing Machine. It was written by lead guitarist Glenn Tipton (who is straight), but it's fun to find alternative meanings in Priest songs. A second commenter likes to pretend a lot of the lyrics Halford sings are gayer than they actually are.

A couple people mentioned how uncomfortable it was seeing Ru Paul interact with British drag queens because he barely knows anything about British culture.

Ru Paul got angry that a British drag queen hasn’t seen the Golden Girls because “it’s gay culture” and then not five minutes later someone had to explain to him who Alan Turing was.

Alan Turing, who was an incredibly noteworthy figure (He made the Enigma codebreaker machine, which broke the code that was used by Nazis during the war and basically sped up the war by a significant margin. He also set the foundations for artificial intelligence, one achievement he was named for: the Turing Test), was homosexual and prosecuted multiple times because of it

Shakespeare was probably bisexual (some of his sonnets had homoerotic subtext/were sent to a younger man). Plus, Hamlet is gay as fuck. 

Sonnet 46 was very gay. Here’s a link!

King James 1st was corrupt and used his position to promote his gay lover to higher positions than he should've gotten. 

The 13 year old king James 6th of Scotland and 1st of England fell in love with a 37 year old catholic Franco Scottish man. The king gave the older man so much free shit that other lords started getting salty and his lover ended up converting to Presbyterianism out of loyalty to his young lover. He also fell in love with a man who ''was noted for his handsome appearance as well as his limited intelligence.'' 

Clearly James was into himbos, and women too.

He had a secret tunnel connecting his bedroom to George Villiers’s bedroom.

His relationship with Villiers was basically common knowledge and a source of much amusement and mockery. He also once said that his relationship with Villiers was equivalent to the relationship that Christ had with John the Baptist

Much more recently, there's obviously JKR and the banning of puberty blockers and Margaret Thatcher opposing LGBTQ+ rights by passing a law meaning you couldn't 'promote homosexuality'. 

Prince Philip was a racist twat (and probably a huge homophobe knowing him).

Gay marriage only became legal in 2014.

The Wolfenden Report was published in 1957, and it recommended the decriminalization of homosexual acts between consenting adults. It was a huge topic of public debate, and ultimately led to the Sexual Offences act of 1967, which legalized sexual acts between consenting men aged 21 or over in England and Wales (sexual acts between women were never explicitly criminalized). Scotland decriminalized sex between men in 1980, and Northern Ireland in 1982. 

For a totally batshit real-life bit of gay history, check out the show A Very English Scandal. It's about a politician, Jeremy Thorpe, who put a hit out on his former lover who was threatening to go public with the fact they had had a relationship. 

Austria

Gay marriage was legalized in Austria about 3 years ago. The worst thing is that it'd have staid illegal if the Supreme Court wouldn't have jumped in and declare it to be unconstitutional.

Austria did have something called "partnership" which was where gay couples could officially register with the state as couples but not receive any of the benefits of married het people

They still have super backwards Transphobic laws requiring for example "real life experience" to get even diagnosed. Basically you're forced to be and live as feminine/masc as possible and a doctor them judges if you're femme or masc enough. It's torture

Australia had widespread, over 60% approval of gay marriage for well over a decade before the government legalized it. The governments were actually going against the people for a very long time by denying it.

Taiwan/ Hong Kong/ Mainland China

When Taiwan recently legalized gay marriage, their official statement was something along the lines that they were casting off Western-imposed values and returning to their own traditional values and the entire western lgbt community ridiculed them in a "if that's what you need to tell yourself" sort of way but it's actually the truth. 

Prior to western colonization, the Imperial Chinese attitude toward sexuality was not dissimilar to Greco-Roman attitudes in that a man must marry a woman to beget legitimate heirs but whatever else he does on the side is his own business. It wasn't until Victorian colonizers came along and imposed homophobic attitudes on China that China started treating gays like abominations. In Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Mainland China, as indeed most of the world, homophobia is a western value imposed by colonizers.

Bonus history: there is an actual saying in Arabic that was in widespread use across the Middle East and North Africa for thousands of years from classical antiquity until European colonization. The saying goes "Women are for babies, [young men] are for fun."

The commenter specifies that this means “college-aged twinks,” not children

Another commenter speculates about when homophobia arose in China and how. They also add that in Rome, bottoms were stigmatized. 

There’s a story of Emperor Ai of the Han dynasty & him cutting off his sleeve for his boyfriend

There is also a god worshipped in Taiwan, the Rabbit God Tu'er Shen, whose domain is managing love and sex between same-sex attracted people. He is meant to be the incarnation of a soldier from the 17th century, who fell in love with an imperial inspector and spied on him bathing, and was tortured and killed by that official because he was offended by the spying. A villager from the soldier's hometown dreamed that Tu'er Shen appeared to him and said that because his crime had been love, he had been appointed to manage the affairs of gay people. The villagers erected a secret temple to the soldier, and people have been praying to him ever since.

South Africa

South Africa became the first nation in the world to explicitly prohibit discrimination based on sexual orientation in its constitution. It was also first country in Africa to legalize same sex marriage in 2006. What really set them back for so long was apartheid.

There is some speculation that that Shaka Zulu was gay since he never took any wives

South Africa's post Apartheid constitution was the first in the world to outlaw discrimination based on sexual orientation in 1996.

South Africa was also the 5th country in the world and only country in Africa to legalize same sex marriage in 2005.

Even before that the Constitutional Court ruled that sexual orientation was not relevant when deciding child custody in 2002.

Transgender folks have been allowed to change their sex in the population registry since 2003.

Conversion therapy is not illegal yet and public opinion still needs some work.

Spain

In Spain gay marriage was legalized in 2005, now they are considered one of de gay-friendliest countries in the world. The commenter is a lesbian and has never been closeted or directly experienced discrimination for being a lesbian.

In July 2005, Spain became the third country in the world to explicitly legalize gay marriage, after a thirty-year struggle following the fall of Franco's dictatorship, during which most activism was carried clandestinely (as it was illegal).

From 2007 onwards, Spanish [binary] trans people can legally correct the name and sex fields of their IDs and currently, there's a push for a law that would allow for legal recognition of non-binary Spaniards.

Despite the dictatorship in the 60s, there were cinemas that specialized in gay meet ups. Trans women also had ways to get passports so they could go to the US for surgery.

Ireland

In Northern Ireland, same sex marriage only became legal in 2020 and the leader of the most popular party is homophobic transphobic racist and sexist af. In fact, the majority of the party are but some of the quotes from the biggest party leader are depressing.

Same-sex marriage was only legalized in Ireland in 2015. Homosexuality was decriminalized in 1993. 

When Ireland legalized same sex marriage by popular vote in 2015, it was still something you got horribly bullied for in schools if you were out. Queer people got an apology from the Taoiseach in 2018, for the suffering and discrimination we faced from the State prior to the legalization of homosexuality.

In the case of trans rights, in 2015 the Gender Recognition Act was signed into law. It allows legal gender changes without the requirement of medical intervention or assessment by the state as long as you are over the age of 18. 

Ireland has fines and jail time for anyone found guilty of attempting conversation therapy. 

Ireland has seen a lot of progress in LGBT rights in the last 6 years but even up to the 2000s, citizens left their family members and friends to rot for being LGBT+. It still happens all over the country, especially in circles that are still fanatically Catholic. As the Catholic Church has lost the iron grip on the country, people have become more accepting of the LGBT+.

India

The Kamasutra(ancient text on sexuality etc.) has an entire chapter dedicated to homosexuality

The Arthashastra, a 2nd century BCE Indian treatise on statecraft, mentions a wide variety of sexual practices which, whether performed with a man or a woman, were sought to be punished with the lowest grade of fine. While homosexual intercourse was not sanctioned, it was treated as a very minor offence, and several kinds of heterosexual intercourse were punished more severely.

Sex between non-virgin women incurred a small fine, while homosexual intercourse between men could be made up for merely with a bath with one's clothes on, and a penance of "eating the five products of the cow and keeping a one-night fast"

Milk, curd (cheese), ghi (clarified butter), urine, and dung are the five products of a cow

The commenter adds that this is not a terrible punishment.

The Mughal Empire mandated a common set of punishments for homosexuality, which could include 50 lashes for a slave, 100 for a free infidel, or death by stoning for a Muslim

On 6 September 2018 the Supreme Court of India invalidated part of Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code making homosexuality legal in India

Prior to the British colonization of India homosexuality was not all that looked down upon when compared to what happened when the British took over and instituted anti gay laws.

The Hijra (literally means third gender) were seen as normal and have been accepted since long before Christ, as evidenced by the Karma Sutra. The British took videos of them to take back to demonstrate how the Desi were “barbaric”.

Bonsia

In Bosnia, there was a one pride parade that ended with religious extremists ruining it and the police not doing anything. It was supposed to be 5 maybe 3 days long but ended in like 1 or 2.

The Danish astronomer Tycho Brahe mapped out the entire night sky with only his eyes. It laid the foundations of many later scientists, such as Isaac Newton. He was a very rich nobleman, so much so that he owned 1% of Denmark's money. He had a pet dwarf that apparently could see the future, which sounds pretty gay. He was also part of the Elefant Ordning, which consisted of rich and strong Danish men.

Philippines 

Despite many attempts to legalize same-sex marriage, the Philippines still didn't budge. Being gay in itself is legal, but same-sex marriage still isn't.

Philippines ,the most Catholic Country in Southeast Asia, has held the largest Pride Parade in Southeast Asia.

Serbia

Serbia didn't have history from about 16th century to 1800's when the 1st revolt happened and failed till 1813's... Then yet another in 1830's for semi independence from Turks, and full in 1836

During the last lingering Ottoman rule over autonomous Serbia, Serbia was one of the very first few countries to have legal mostly everything... it then got removed with like 3 constitution changes and then it didn't move forward for a looong time

Switzerland

Would you have thought that small, conservative Switzerland was a center of the international gay community during the mid-20th century? The magazine "Der Kreis"- the circle - was the only queer magazine in the world that kept publishing during WWII. It was edited in Zurich and distributed internationally, which often meant illegal smuggling, even into nazi Germany. The magazine's annual ball was attended by hundreds of gay men from all over Europe each year. The whole thing was kept strictly secret from the public, though it was known and tolerated by the police.

The Kreis club disbanded in 1967, as repressions grew heavier after a number of murders in the scene had caught the public's attention. By then, other European and American groups took its place, publishing their own magazines.

They made a movie about it.

More info about Der Kreis

As of today, Switzerland doesn't allow gay marriage. A country-wide referendum will be held this fall on gay marriage.

The commenter speculates that gay marriage will be legalized.

A few people expressed surprise that Switerland is socially conservative and several people explained that women’s right to vote was only place in the 70s.

There’s a movie about it

Turkey

A Muslim Persian (born in modern day Turkey) philosopher/mysticist named Mewlana who is known for his sayings on acceptance and love for one another was gay! He had exchanged letters with his instructor Shams and wrote homoerotic poems to him! In Turkey this is ignored by many due to the country's stance on homosexuality

More information

Norway

The commenter’s hometown and the neighboring town arranged their first pride parade/event in 2017, which is a big deal for a small place and one of the local priests went livid and went straight to the newspaper and social media to condemn it. A local rapper wrote a short and to the point article in the newspaper calling him out for all kinds of things which was a great read. Then to top it off, the priest arranged for a "Jesus Parade" in protest to be held the day before the pride parade. Only like five people walked in it, not including the priest of course because he happened to be on vacation in Spain that week. The pride parade itself was a success though! It's become an annual event. Covid has put some breaks on it though, but they're making a documentary this year about the pride celebrations.

Hungary

Hungary has no same sex marriage or transition rights

Police are unkind to protestors

During “commie times,” being queer was illegal so queer people went to the gulag

Belgium

Same sex marriage was legalized in Belgium in 2003 (right after the NL who were the first in the world). The commenter says that same-sex marriage has always felt possible and she is confused about other countries’ actions.

Poland

Polish president on public assembly: 'LGBT is not people, this is ideology'.

Denmark

WHO took their sweet time declassifying being transgender as a mental illness, so Denmark got sick of waiting and became the first country to stop classifying it as an illness.

Australia

In Australia same-sex marriage wasn't legal until 2017.

Portugal

Portugal is know for having one of the most (if not THE most) peaceful revolutions in history back in the 60's, with only 4 deaths total.

Canada

Operation Soap.

Mexico

To learn more, watch Dance of the 41 on Netflix.

Netherlands

NL was one of the first countries to legalize gay marriage in 2001

Sweden

In Sweden they used to classify Homosexuality as a disease during the 20th century so in protest people would call in too gay to work.

New Zealand

When same sex marriage was legalized, the parliament broke into song.

The song

Other

Homosexuality is illegal in 73 countries, some by death or life in prison.

Only one country in Asia has legalized same-sex marriage: Taiwan

FNAF is older than same-sex marriage in the US

Condor Operation

I think this is some important stuff so please reblog so more people can see! And, if you would like to add to or correct anything here, feel free to do so!

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

DUCK-FIC?!! ⊙.☉ I- I need- more!?

LOL. Of course you do. We all do. The supply is way too stingy, seriously.

But, sorry to say, mine wasn’t really a Duck fic! More of a Truro/ensemble fic than anything.

Even sorrier to say, this fic is definitely on the scrap heap.

However, I will cave and post everything I had actually drafted for the Duck-and-Truro scene. I didn’t even bother to finish it up because nothing was really happening here—but it was a great deal of fun to imagine what they would have talked about!

(also, nonny, i'm sorry for the delay—it's my usual song-and-dance of 'dare i disturb the universe with my Stupid Stupid Stupidity? and, if i do, how much rambling must i do first?' but i broke through, in the end. thanks so much for dropping a line, despite all my tizzy and delay it is very very appreciated ♥)

Spring 1957

The Tidmouth engines often complained about Duck’s tendency to natter on. Nor were they the first, in his life, to need to occasionally remind him to shut up.

But the grand celebrity seemed to genuinely not mind.

“Go on,” he smiled, when Duck had caught himself about to ramble. “I’ve been talking all day myself, telling the same old story a hundred different times, and am glad of a rest. Besides, I’m rather curious, about this railway of yours.”

Duck went red, equally abashed and pleased. “Oh, there’s no place like it!”

“I must agree,” said City of Truro. “I don't have quite have my bearings, though. I thought this was the terminus?”

“Oh, it is, really. That’s the western coastal line, but it hasn’t been used since the war. And that’s the switch to the old harbor—but our Controller’s developing it so that it’s based at Knapford, now. And that switch to the north is a shortcut onto Thomas’s branch line—it bypasses the big station, so it’s useful for moving goods to and from the old harbor. The Ffarquhar branch, rather,” Duck corrected himself, but City of Truro smiled again.

“I’ve been rather out of things a long while. But even I know about Thomas’s branch line!”

“What!” Duck had to laugh a little. Of course, Sodor had its children’s books, and Thomas’s stories were especially popular. But the idea that the great City of Truro knew anything about it rather amazed him.

“Of course. I don’t suppose there’s an engine on all of British Railways that doesn’t know Thomas and Gordon.”

“Really? Oh, don’t tell them.” It was hard to predict which of the two would become more insufferable. Duck grinned, imagining it.

“Really. A few of the younger, rostered engines, whose crews read to them, could probably recognize all of you! I’ve met a couple such, who are great fans, and practically have those stories memorized. Evidently they’re very droll. I can’t believe the half of what I hear from them, though.”

“Oh, everything in those stories really happened, at some point. Sometimes the Thin Clergyman—the author—changes around the order a bit, or puts a rather odd twist on things, or invents some of what we say. And it causes quite a lot of bother and fuss among the engines here, whenever he does! But the events themselves all did happen.”

“I’m afraid that they have given the impression that your number one is rather accident-prone, then,” said City of Truro, very grave, and Duck had to laugh.

“Oh, that much isn’t true, quite.” Thomas was probably the engine that Duck got on with the least well of the lot, but Duck was loyal—and had to be fair. “He’s really a very responsible sort of engine, and not half as naive as the stories make out. But he’s very sporting, honestly, about letting the Thin Clergyman make a lot of hay out of his occasional little mishaps.” Which was remarkable, because Thomas was quite thin-skinned in general, outside of this one special arrangement. “There’s nothing Thomas wouldn’t do, if it helped out the railway.”

“Well, of course. That’s true of every proper engine… or, at least, it was.”

“Things have changed, on the mainland,” said Duck, darkly.

“They have,” said City of Truro. “Though one can hardly blame the engines. The railways themselves have changed so much. A nation-wide network is rather too big, somehow, for even their own new standard engines to feel proper loyalty. Were you on the mainland for nationalisation, Montague?”

“Yes, indeed. I worked Paddington station, up until the 08s started to come in. I’ve only been here on Sodor two years now! Where were you, when they made the Great Western a region?”

“I wasn’t on the Great Western at all. I was in store in a L.N.E.R. shed in the Scottish borders.”

Duck was indignant. “In store! Isn’t that just like them, though. How did you wind up stuck on their railway at all?”

“I can’t make any complaint about the L.N.E.R.,” said Truro mildly, “amusing though it might be, to wind up that Gresley Pacific of yours. They were the ones who preserved me, when I was taken out of service, right before the second war. Mr. Collett tried to get our railway to do so, but they weren’t willing at the time. So York took me in. It was very generous of them, to do such a thing for their old rivals, and to even have it printed right in their own museum, that my speed record was likely authentic.”

“They did? The London and North Eastern?” Duck had a good chuckle. “Oh, Gordon would blow a valve, if he knew!”

“A few of his cousins did just about that!”

“ ‘Likely,’ though. How silly!”

“Oh, be fair, now. The Great Western itself wouldn’t own to the thing officially, when it happened. So we can hardly expect the rest of the world to be much more definite about it!”

“But whyever not? I still don’t understand that. Surely it would have been a very exciting thing, to own to having the fastest engine in the world!”

“All the old railways did want to own just that,” agreed Truro. “But they also wanted to have a sterling reputation for safety! Back then, especially, because rail travel used to be a great deal less safe than it is now. Passengers needed lots of reassurance in those days—and deserved it. What driver and I did on those late-night runs was rather reckless, Montague. It would have brought a great deal of trouble down on our railway, if they had publicized it openly.”

“Like the other railways weren’t trying to do the same thing, on their runs!”

“Well, some weren’t. And now, looking back, I respect them rather a lot, for sticking by their principles. But yes, most all the other major networks were doing just the same as we.”

“Excuse me, though. If you were in a museum in York, how did you wind up in a shed at the Borders? That's too bad!”

“They sent a good many of us museum engines away, during the war, because they feared we’d be the target of air raids. Sprouston sheds were very dull, but they were safe—and I made a few friends, among the engines in service there. A good lot, if rather rough. It felt more homey than the museum, anyway, since I got much more railway news. Of course, after that move I seemed to be rather forgotten, but that’s always the danger of being put in store. Maintenance there kept me in good condition even though I wasn’t operational, and I’m grateful, because when our region looked into restoring me it proved a much quicker job than anticipated, thanks to their men. Of course, they’re no Great Western—I saw some appalling mismanagement there, both before and after nationalisation, and I’m sure our engineers were far the cleverer. Our Cities, our Castles, our Halls, and our pannier tank classes,” Truro smiled at Duck, “have all been second to none. But I’d not be here, without the North Eastern. It seems, too, like half your fleet here can say the same!”

“What? No, indeed.”

“Well, your renowned number four certainly is. And quite a lot of the others look Eastern too. At least, above the running board.”

“No, most everyone here is from the Midland region. Almost everyone’s older than me, though, and have had more or less rebuilding. Mostly more.”

“You’re Swindon-made,” said Truro calmly. “You’ll never need much rebuilding.”

Duck grinned. “Well, time will tell, I suppose! We’re a working railway, not heritage, so the first priority is always making sure we stay competitive with the mainland regions. But they do seem to be getting more interested in keeping us newer acquisitions in our original forms, as much as possible, so as to keep some of the old designs alive.���

“I couldn’t believe my eyes, when I saw your Great Western colors. I’ve been watching engines going in and out ever since, and you’re the only one here with your original paintwork. I couldn’t be prouder—but I am surprised, that your Controller allowed another railway’s livery!”

“I was too!” laughed Duck. “They’re very good to us, though. When I arrived here, the head painter told me I could have whatever I wanted. I told him, of course, that he should choose what he thought looked best, and that I’d be much obliged just so long as he got me out of that horrid B.R. black. But he laughed at me—in a nice way, you know—and made some sort of human joke about how I had to learn to dream in Technicolor. Whatever that is. Anyway, the truth was that there was only one thing I really wanted. But, of course, one wouldn't think it possible. So I had thought to ask for green, at least, and had been telling myself that I should soon come to like matching Percy—our number six; he was my first friend here. But in the end the North Western green is just not the same as ours, and it was oddly depressing, knowing that it was close but not quite right. If there had been a standard livery here, I should have been proud enough to wear it, but there isn’t anymore, really. At one point it was to be blue, but that scheme was given up long ago, and anyway I couldn’t help but think I’d look rather silly in that blue. It’s an old L.N.E.R. color, anyway! But the man insisted that I pick something, and so I owned that the only preference I really had was for my old Great Western paint, and short of that he should do as he liked. Much to my surprise, he grew quite excited, and said that it should be an interesting project—and perfectly possible, if I were willing to wait a little longer.”

“I expect you were,” said Truro proudly.

“Oh, of course! It was like a wonderful dream. Nor was it so very long. It turns out that Crovan’s Gate—that’s the workshop, for all the engines on this island, not just our own railway—they had inherited a good deal of things from Swindon, during nationalisation. Our Controller, it seems, is a great admirer of the Great Western, and he didn’t take my request ill at all. I believe he was as interested as we were, and he had a contact who came in specially, to make sure all the lining and lettering was done exactly right.”

“It makes sense, that he admires the Great Western,” said Truro thoughtfully, “for a good deal of our old spirit is quite alive here, so far as doing things your own way, and not letting London and Manchester come in and bully the life out of you. Still,” he chuckled, “although I take great pleasure indeed in seeing your paintwork, I must own there’s an old, fussy little part of me that’s rather shocked, at the idea of letting engines choose their own colors! And yet, don’t get me wrong, it’s a thousand times better than endless B.R. black.”

“Indeed it is! I know just what you mean, though, even if I am of course quite reconciled to the thing, now. I understand I have James to thank for all this—the red engine that you met earlier.”

“Ah. My new friend.”

“Well. I’m afraid he was only flattering you to get a rise out of Gordon.”

“I gathered that,” said Truro dryly, “and, I’ll be frank, I thought he could have been a bit more loyal. Gordon, I understood perfectly well, at least.”

“Oh, James is loyal,” said Duck, reflexively, though there was a shadow of doubt on his face. After all, he had never seen it really tested, although he suspected it was true. “He does stir things up pretty often, but I’m sure that when matters are serious we can all depend on him, and the truth is that he admires Gordon really—although it’s pretty sound policy, not to let on, because Gordon’s ego is plenty big enough as is. Anyway, James is only rather impulsive. He speaks first, and usually regrets it later. When he’s not cross—and, I confess, he often is—but when he’s not he’s good fun, and he is a hard worker, too, even if he does make ten times as much noise and fuss about most of his jobs as we’d think necessary, back home.”

“And it was down to him, that garter blue never quite became the standard around here?”

“Yes, that’s right. Of course, this was ages before I came—a little before I was even made, I think—but when James arrived they were to paint him blue. The engines were all blue at the time, even Henry, and they seemed to be working towards making them all look rather more alike despite being such a motley bunch, giving them the same cabs and tenders and splashers. But James had sheer gall enough to ask if he could have red, having always it seems rather fancied the idea. And the Fat Controller—the one at the time; he was the father to the one we have now—agreed, so long as James was useful and behaved himself, and that’s been the policy for all of us ever since.”

“And which one is this Henry?”

“Oh, the big green one. Number three.”

“Ah. The green three who is actually a Black Five!”

“Yes,” Duck chuckled, “though if you ever had heard the books read you’d know he wasn’t, always. That was a rebuild—the biggest they ever did.”

“Oh, was it, now? I had supposed he was younger than you.”

“No—only acts it,” said Duck wickedly, and then laughed, a little abashed. “I oughtn’t be speaking of them this way. You must think me pretty awful.”

“Not really,” said Truro, with perhaps a touch of wickedness in his own eyes, though he maintained a proper sobriety. “It may not be very Great Western—but then, I get the impression that it is very North Western.”

Duck had a good laugh at that. “Just so! We all rag on each other here, all the time. Everyone is so different from each other, in a way one often didn’t find, at home. That all said, they’re a good lot really, and I should be ashamed to bad-mouth them to strangers.”

“Well,” said Truro, “let’s consider ourselves friends now, instead of strangers, and then you needn’t worry.”

Duck blushed deeply. He had gotten very comfortable chatting away with the legendary engine, but the idea of being City of Truro’s friend brought the difference in their status back to him. “That’s—that’s quite an honor.”

“It’s been a real pleasure, Montague, getting to speak to another Great Western engine. And not a pleasure I expected to enjoy today. Are you here at Tidmouth tonight?”

“Oh, yes,” said Duck eagerly.

“Good! You’ll introduce me to the others, I hope. What about this other green friend of yours that you mentioned?”

“Oh—Percy?”

“Yes. You said he was the first engine you made friends with here.”

“Yes indeed! Funny enough, he worked the Great Western too, for a while. Then again, he’s worked just about everywhere. He was an industrial engine. We’ll see about tonight. There’s so much extra traffic today, with you here. Percy’s been helping me at Knapford, in between spotting in on Thomas’s line while Thomas brings specials down here, and basically being two or three places at once… we’ll have to see where he winds up for the night. The thing is,” laughed Duck, although secretly he was a bit annoyed, “Thomas is very likely to ask to stay here tonight specially and meet you. Percy wouldn’t bother to fuss with him about it. That’s one of the things I like most about him—he’s very down-to-earth, and not much awed by fame.”

“Then I should like him very much indeed,” agreed Truro. “Buffers crossed. What about your number two, is he based here?”

“Edward? No. He’s taken his last train out of here already, to his own branch line.”

“Ah, that’s too bad. I should have liked to speak with him. He looks to be one of my sort, you know, and I was surprised to see another of us. It looked to me as if he might still be in regular traffic, too.”

“Oh, of course he is! He works as hard as anyone here. And he would have loved to meet you too,” laughed Duck. “He’s been that excited, about the news of you coming! He remembers when word was first going around, about your speed record.”

“Is that so? I supposed he was from about my own time, to be sure, but I hadn’t thought he was around quite so long as me.”

“He’s older than you, I’m sure. He was made last century.”

“All these rebuilds,” said Truro, with mock rue. “I'll never keep track of your lot here, if you’re going to keep springing that trick on me. But now I am sure that he and I did similar work in our day, and that under all that Eastern re-modeling he was a light, speedy sort of engine by design.”

“You’re quite right—he was a main line express engine for a time, though I didn’t know that till just recently, for these days he does just about everything but! But he's told me how they all went a little mad, on his old railway, as word was going around about your run. Said everyone spent the rest of the decade debating it, but that many of his relatives were convinced you had done it… and that a few grew rather reckless, wanting to do the same!”

Truro chuckled. “I’ve heard a couple variations of that, from different places all over the country. I’d almost rather be disbelieved and dismissed, than have anyone come to grief in that sort of way.”

“Well, I don’t think anything bad happened on Edward’s railway. He says his managers came down pretty hard on his whole class, and put an end to the thing sharpish. But it sounds like you were much admired, among his lot. He mentioned one brother in particular, who wasn't such a fool as to fight his driver's controls and play speed trial—but he did manage to get all the way down to Great Western territory, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. But, of course, you were based in London, so he never got anywhere close, really.” Duck grinned. “I liked hearing how much our railway was respected, even back then. And I liked, too, that it got him to talk a bit about his time before Sodor. Most of the engines here never do. It’s rather strange!”

“I suppose some of them didn’t see as much service as you did, on their first network. Gordon, I know, was a prototype, and only did test runs on the mainland.”

“Is that really so?”

“I’m certain of it, as I’ve spoken with some of his brothers and cousins, you know. They’re very proud of his career here, for after his trials it was concluded that a good many changes were still needed to the class, and Gordon might have been expected to be taken apart… of course, that whole lot of great Eastern Pacifics are absurdly proud about everything. In any case, Gordon at least hardly knows anything but Sodor, and I suspect he’s not the only re-homed prototype here.”

“That’s funny,” said Duck thoughtfully, “for Gordon’s almost the only other one, besides me, who does talk much about his old railway… of course, now I think on it, it’s always a pretty generic sort of boasting. I suppose I might have guessed that he was never in full service there. Still, I always rather liked him better for such loyalty—and I suppose I still do. James was a prototype too, but he did have about fifteen years on his old railway, and he never talks about it. I can’t understand it.”

“Which railway was that?”

“Oh, the old Lancashire and Yorkshire.”

Truro looked rather serious. “Don’t judge him harshly for that, Montague. The L. & Y. was a bit notorious for being hard on its engines.”

He said nothing more, and for a moment Duck was quite silent too. It had never occurred to the pannier that James could ever not broadcast a grievance—which told him loudly and clearly that, whatever Truro meant, it must have cut James very deeply.

And James would never forgive him, if Duck were to know anything more about it.

“Your lot here hasn’t gone in very much for big engines, have they?” asked Truro, sounding thoughtful.

Duck wasn’t sure how curious the other engine was, or whether he was simply tiding them over the awkward moment. Either way, he took the chance gladly. “Well, we have some, of course. They’re very conscious here, about making sure we’re every bit as efficient as the Other Railway—and then some. If we’re not following their modernisation policies, then we must prove our ways are just as good!”

“The Other Railway,” repeated Truro, amused, and Duck laughed, going a bit pink.

“Yes, it’s what we all seem to call it, over here.”

“It’s still your railway, too! But I can’t help but like that,” admitted Truro. “And you mustn’t be too quick to judge the others here, Montague. I can think of lots of reasons they might not wish to talk much about their old lives. I shouldn’t want you to forget where you came from, but you must be proud of being North Western, too. It’s a fine home, you’ve got here.”

“Oh, I know it!” said Duck earnestly. “I am, indeed, and no mistake. Of course I’d give them my best anyway—but I’m awfully proud, to be one of the Fat Controller’s engines. And don’t take that amiss, either,” he added, with a grin, for Truro looked sceptical, at the cheek of the younger generation. “He knows very well everyone calls him that, and doesn’t mind. A great man, our controller.”

It took a moment, but, visibly deciding to not judge any too harshly himself, City of Truro relaxed into a smile.

“I am,” he said, “very glad to hear it.”

[vagabondedlife]

Kei Fujiwara’s name is hardly recognizable to most fans of Japanese cinema despite her crucial role in director Shinya Tsukamoto’s early cult classics. As Tsukamoto’s “right hand” woman in the 1980s, Fujiwara became closely involved in his underground theater troupe, Kaijyu Theater, and contributed to the productions of the experimental and DIY films The Phantom of Regular Size (1986), The Adventures of Denchu Kozo (1987), and Tetsuo: The Iron Man (1989). Her credits include actress, cinematographer, prop artist, makeup artist, and set-designer (her apartment was used as a primary set). She also engineered Tetsuo’s iconic phallic drill.

Born in Kumamoto in 1957, Fujiwara moved to Tokyo in her early twenties and discovered theater troupe director Jūrō Kara, who became her mentor. After a decade, she created her own troupe called Organ Vital, which underwent a series of evolutions but remains her life work. Her new project this year is Ibunkitan, a form of micro-nomadic theater, whose kanji characters mean “strange-listen-machine-story.” A private person now living in the reclusive mountains of Nagano, Fujiwara rarely gives interviews, but seemed excited to talk about her rarely discussed directorial debut, Organ (1996).

An avant-garde exploration of violence, pain and pleasure with an operatic amount of coagulated blood and extrasomatic body horror, Organ follows two detectives after they break into an organ harvester’s warehouse and collide with yakuza gangsters, a drugged doctor, and his eye-patch wearing sister Yoko, played by Fujiwara herself, who also produced and wrote the film. A cherished work among hardcore fans of Japanese cult cinema, Organ is still ripe for rediscovery. The film’s offerings of a full-bodied sensorial experience and an abusive questioning of cruelty prove tirelessly relevant.

Fujiwara’s work was recently revived at FFFest in New York City with a double feature of Tetsuo: The Iron Man and Organ. Fujiwara prepared a special statement that was shared as an introduction. Following the screening, we had the opportunity to speak to the artist about her life, practice, and ideals in more depth. The conversation was held over the phone in Japanese.

NOTEBOOK: Is Ibunkitan a new Organ Vital?

KEI FUJIWARA: Yes, it’s a new Organ Vital. When I was young, I lived in the rural area. I always just read theater but never had the opportunity to see state-of-the-art theater. When I was in high school, I was always reading, and I picked up an Antonin Artaud book that featured this French term. It meant the vessels of life. When translated to English, I’m told it just becomes, “vitals of organ,” or something, but in Japanese it is called gozōroppu and to me signifies the corporal. That’s the name of my theater company, and it has always been that for me. Born into this three-dimensional world with bodies, we sense and express. That’s what’s interesting in life. Ibunkitan can be done in a very small space. We’ve done it in temples, in the corner of a shop, in salons. Our first performance was in March, and we’re planning to do another in November. We've been invited to perform my new Jomon-inspired piece in a live-house in the mountains in Nagano, so we’re preparing some woodwork for that now.

NOTEBOOK: You were working in Shinya Tsukamoto’s Kaijyu Theater production between working with Jūrō Kara?

FUJIWARA: Jūrō Kara, my mentor—when I was in Jōkyō Gekijo [Situation Theatre], he took a liking to me and wrote roles for me. A lot happened, and Kara said he would make a new troupe with me, but I had other plans, so I left once, and he said, “As my mentee, you can leave but wait for me to come get you.” That’s when I went to work with Shinya Tsukamoto on his plays and films. It was after Tetsuo: The Iron Man [1989] that Kara started the new troupe “Kara-gumi” and I returned to work with him.

NOTEBOOK: How was it that you began working with Tsukamoto?

FUJIWARA: I had just left Kara and after a while a friend said that Tsukamoto was looking for someone to act in his plays. He was Tsukamoto’s classmate and an actor, and he made the introduction. I found Tsukamoto interesting and talented. So, I began working diligently as his right hand after that.

NOTEBOOK: I wanted to ask you about Tsukamoto’s 1987 film, The Adventures of Denchu Kozo.

FUJIWARA: Denchu Kozo and Tetsuo were actually both shot in my apartment where I was living at the time. You know all those cats? I couldn’t rent a normal apartment, so I had to live in a cheap nagaya tenement house on the verge of getting demolished. I just needed a place to live that permitted pets. Denchu Kozo and Tetsuo’s interior shots are all at my place.

NOTEBOOK: Are the scenes projected in the TV monitor in Tetsuo from Denchu Kozo?

FUJIWARA: Yes. They’re from Denchu Kozo.

Above: Organ

NOTEBOOK: What turned you onto making Organ, if you were always only interested in theater?

FUJIWARA: That was because of my experience filmmaking with Tsukamoto. It prepared me for how arduous it would be. Theater is an impermanent art, and that’s why it’s such a luxurious art form. But film is like capturing a world in a crystal ball. The joy of creating film is like making your own universe. My staff members at the time— six men other than myself—were all talented, and I thought, “Everyone’s here, why don’t I just make it?” So, all the staff also became the actors, and that’s how we started filming. But it was so difficult at first. We used the atelier space we had and reformed it over and over and shot it like that. It was time-consuming. It became the warehouse set, the school set. It kept on transforming. We did it all in the same space.

NOTEBOOK: That seems like a very theatrical way of using space.

FUJIWARA: Yes.

NOTEBOOK: But first, you started writing it?

FUJIWARA: Yes, I first started writing it. I’m actually not very good at planning. I just think that if I put my mind to it, I can make it happen. So I wrote the script, and had the staff pool in their savings. Between the seven of us we had 200,000 yen, so I thought, “Great, if we have 200,000 yen and one reel of film is 5,000 yen, and even if we bought lights, we can make 30 minutes of footage.” As for the equipment, there are countless aspiring-filmmaker boys who have camera equipment lying around collecting dust, so we borrowed from them. As for the set, we were all used to making it for our theater. We were good at foraging free stuff to make things. That warehouse set in the beginning of Organ was made with an extremely cheap budget. Then we started filming. All those organs in that scene were worked from what was supposed to be our dinner for the day [laughs]. We used real food. We took some gelatin- and konjac-noodles and thought, “This can look like veins!”

NOTEBOOK: And then you had it for dinner?

FUJIWARA: Well, we ended up not being able to, because it was covered in fake blood! It was all about how little money we could spend and still make something, which was a valuable lesson for me.

NOTEBOOK: You’ve mentioned the Kenji Miyazawa poem, Ame ni mo makezu1.

FUJIWARA: Yes, I just really like Kenji Miyazawa. I like the way he thinks, and his philosophy. He’s a Buddhist, and as I haven’t studied Buddhism properly, I cannot say for sure, but I think his seimeikan, or view of life, is on par with that of Osamu Tezuka. Osamu Tezuka and Kenji Miyazawa are two gods with the same perspective regarding seimeikan. No matter how great their art is, Yoshihide Otomo and Hayao Miyazaki can never reach Osamu’s level. Osamu’s core is love. There’s only love. The way they think about life is totally different. I was reading manga before I was literate [laughs]. I like Osamu Tezuka, but also Sanpei Shirato. And in my teens, I liked Daijiro Morohoshi. He’s an extremely interesting person.

NOTEBOOK: Do you think that your films need to be discovered?

FUJIWARA: They need to lock in perfectly with someone’s desire to watch it, or else watching it has no meaning. It just appears as a confusing, grotesque film.

NOTEBOOK: Please tell us about your make up and special effects.

FUJIWARA: Since Tetsuo, my method is always the same. I don’t have any background knowledge of special effect makeup. I just have a gut feeling of what can and can’t be used. Tsukamoto had these drawing storyboards for Tetsuo, like the steel body and the drill penis. For the latter, Tsukamoto just wanted to make something simple and said it would be enough if we could just pretend like it was moving, but I thought it would only be interesting if it actually moved. I didn’t have any hi-tech skills, so I thought, “That’s it!” I took the nearest working electric fan, dissembled it down to its core, used all the rubber and tape I had at home, sprayed it up and got it to go, vroom [laughs]! It was the same for Organ. I used household products, mostly kitchenware.

Above: Organ

NOTEBOOK: What about your cinematography?

FUJIWARA: I had no background knowledge. The first time I started shooting was on Tsukamoto’s set. A lot of people who graduated film school and wanted to help were there, but Tsukamoto didn’t trust any of them. Just because you have technique doesn’t mean you can shoot well. He thought that the person wielding the camera needs a certain amount of power, of energy. So I, who had never touched a camera in my life, was given the camera and told where to press to get it rolling, and shot all of the scenes Tsukamoto was in.

NOTEBOOK: Do you still shoot with a camera lately?

FUJIWARA: Rarely.

NOTEBOOK: As the occasion for this screening was FFFest, Female Filmmakers Festival, could you comment about your experience as a female filmmaker?

FUJIWARA: Something men don’t have—there are two types: female filmmakers who focus their perspective on their immediate surroundings and daily lives, and those who focus on creating a worldview from the even more intimate bodily perspective. That’s what’s a little different from male filmmakers. Even in theater, most female directors write familial narratives, although I don’t [laughs].

NOTEBOOK: The podcast Ladies Horror Night, on the occasion of this screening, recorded an episode that raised the question of why you, a female filmmaker, didn’t include more female characters. I’m not sure about this pressure for female filmmakers to represent female subjects, as I think there’s power in the female filmmaker re-writing the male-centric story. Can you speak on this and how you came to write the police story in Organ?

FUJIWARA: When I think about seimeikan—our view of life—it appears to me that the moral judgment of good versus bad is not something universal, but just a rule that protects our lifestyle in society. It’s a regulation. We make regulations to protect ourselves. That takes the form of “good” and “evil.” But that’s not the good and evil that holds ground in nature. Animals kill other animals for their own predation, right? Humans, too, in the context of war, can kill other humans and become heroes. The concept of zen-aku, or the notion of good and evil, is just a societal regulation. The police represent upholders of this regulation. And then there are those who defy this regulation, who lie in a realm completely different from this conventional morality. Organ is a clash between these two groups. That’s how I formed the police narrative. As for why there are few female characters, well… In the case of females, expressing them requires—for many, not all—a focus on the micro world, the micro perspective, that is, if you pay attention to their priorities. In other words, if you have a goal and you want to finish something, but she says she needs to take a bath at this certain time and cannot participate, there’s nothing you can do. In my theater, only men can keep up with me. Because of this standpoint, if a woman were to express a woman, she would need to create a micro world. But when describing a police story, a macro worldview, the direction would lose focus.

NOTEBOOK: It would become more internal?

FUJIWARA: Right. That’s why there aren’t as many female characters. But the wife of Numata represents the reality for women. And also the female teacher who approaches the criminal but gets killed. Woman participated in this way. But it’s hard for them to take leading parts for the narrative. It’s hard to let them be there and have their perspective be represented, because their perspective is in a different dimension.

NOTEBOOK: What about the character you play, Yoko?

FUJIWARA: Yoko is outside of that realm. She’s an outlier. She doesn’t represent family or the household or the joy of daily life, because she didn’t enjoy any of those things. That’s why she can exist there.

NOTEBOOK: How did you direct your actors in Organ, was it different from how you usually direct them in theater?

FUJIWARA: It’s the same. The only direction I gave them in Organ was that they only get one shot. I don’t give actors multiple takes. If there’s a camera or equipment problem that requires another take or two, I’ll do it. But I won’t do it for the actor. The actor has one chance, the take. But, on the offhand that the actor makes a mistake and requires a take two, I tell them they need to buy their own film roll. That was the rule. So, no one ever made a single mistake. They were all dead serious, completely focused. They’re all broke and have no money to buy film.

NOTEBOOK: In that sense it’s theatrical.

FUJIWARA: Right, and I had one actress tell me that that it was brilliant. She said, “I do lots of work for TV and film, but everyone is so lukewarm and they do take after take, and think about it so leniently. But there’s none of that here. The one take is the real thing.”

NOTEBOOK: So, that urgency was good for the actors?

FUJIWARA: Right. They said they couldn’t afford to buy their own film.

NOTEBOOK: If you give theater actors the same direction for film, how does that work? The performances in Organ don’t come off as exaggerated; I doubt a viewer without knowing would assume they are all theater actors.

FUJIWARA: There’s no difference. In theater, my scripts are like music scores. The lines come out and dance, modulate, sing, calling on the innate sensation playing the instrument that is yourself on stage. The actor, with this music-score-as-script, has a multitude of possibilities of how to play it. In film, the scripted character is a part of the environment. They are simply material for the scene. I didn’t need to explain this to them, they naturally just became materials for the scene.

Above: Organ

NOTEBOOK: That’s a good transition into my next question: can you talk about your music and sound design direction?

FUJIWARA: Music is difficult. What I say doesn’t get across, because I was working with new people. They hadn’t even seen any of my theater. I like German bands, something strong and hard. But even if they mimic the Germans, the Japanese can’t avoid making music that doesn’t sound soft and weak. One day I said, “Make it more powerful, something that alludes to the power of nature, more animalistic and sturdily-built,” and they said, “Okay.” The demo they brought to me literally had animal sounds, like elephants wailing and dogs barking, and I was like, “…That’s not what I meant” [laughs]. It didn’t get across. But there were some interesting sound bites that I could use. But Japanese band musicians can’t get over their own softness. I think what they have is different.

NOTEBOOK: So you’re not happy with the results?

FUJIWARA: Well, I’m the type of person that thinks, que sera, sera. So I wasn’t satisfied, but…

NOTEBOOK: You’ve mentioned that you a very easily scared person. But in Tetsuo and Organ, your characters say, “I won’t be afraid.” How do you interpret this difference?

FUJIWARA: When I came to Tokyo in my twenties, the first theater directors I met said they’d never met anyone as weak and sensitive as myself. They didn’t think I could live on a few years longer, much less do theater, and that I might find myself drugged up in a brothel in the near future. Kara was the only person that ever said to me that I was the strongest person he’d met. In other words, the fear and strength that I have appears to others as a weakness that can barely withstand life, but it’s just my highly sensitive nature they see. In actuality, I’m very strong. I feel very easily, so that seems weak, but my capacity for empathy is just very large. I feel others’ pain and sadness so strongly that I throw up thinking about them. That’s why I don’t watch TV or read the newspaper. Or else I would be crying all day [laughs].

NOTEBOOK: Watching Organ feels like you’re making the audience feel this extreme pain you describe.

FUJIWARA: Yes, that’s the result of the film. My second film, ID [2005], is even more so.

NOTEBOOK: In addition to fear and pain, pleasure is another large theme. After the screening, someone told me your film was grotesque but something about it was so pleasurable. How do you maintain that balance?

FUJIWARA: I think humans, in order to live, can’t cut those away from existence. If you deny desire, you’re not human. The existence of such things causes our misery, too. Thus, desire and slaughter are inescapable. My fear and sorrow regarding this, and my questioning what are they anyway. That’s what I wanted to portray.

NOTEBOOK: What’s interesting about your portrayal of violence is that Yoko uses the gun as a weapon but doesn’t shoot from it. The one time she tries to shoot at her father, it wasn’t loaded. She mostly hits with it.

FUJIWARA: When I act a role, it needs to be real for me to imagine it. I can’t shoot a gun just like that. I need to feel it. Whenever I do something I feel a corporal build-up that can’t just be released by shooting away.

NOTEBOOK: Shooting it would be too easy?

FUJIWARA: An action needs to be taken. The body and the heart are connected. It’s not that easy.

NOTEBOOK: What was the biggest challenge in shooting Organ?

FUJIWARA: The most difficult challenge was the first scene, in the warehouse. When the doctor and yakuza fend off the police while trying to dissect the man. That shoot was in the middle of summer, but we had to close off the warehouse because it was a night scene. It was hot, smelly, only men, and everyone’s body odor was suffocating the room. That was really difficult. At the time there were seven of us, and now there are three of us, just Takahashi, Mori and I. In Organ, all the actors take on multiple roles. Whenever they weren’t onscreen they were doing lights or shooting. We shot it scene by scene in order. I remember towards the end of the film, during the scene in the tunnel, when my role Yoko comes in on a bike and there’s a fighting scene, we couldn’t get a permit to shoot. We were able to shoot outside the tunnel on the road but not inside. But I badly wanted to shoot inside so we went at midnight, and the characters got all bloody and we were shooting, and the police came. They thought it was a real yakuza fight and took off the safety on their pistols and were about to shoot at us. We thought we were done for. The character Yasuda, who later falls into the ditch and gets stabbed with a Japanese sword, was responsible for getting the permits and he had all the documents on him. So, he came out from the ditch all bloody and with a sword in him, screaming, “We’re shooting a film!” terrifying the police even more. While he was negotiating with them we finished shooting the scene. The police just told us to be safe and left, but it was all thanks to him for putting his life on the line. We really thought we were going to get shot. Usually film shoots have large crews and it’s obvious, but in our case, all the crew were also the actors, so it was hard to tell, and the lights were hidden.

NOTEBOOK: What about the camera?

FUJIWARA: Yes, but it was a small 16mm Scoopic, and the police were so focused on the bloody actors they didn’t notice it. The police were terrified, but it was a great location and I just needed to shoot there no matter what.

[hamish-linklater-btc]

My top 13 (because I couldn’t decide) Elvis Presley movie in random order

1-Loving You 1957 (this one should be more popular or widely available, very hard to find. It feels like an autobiographical movie a bit. The performance of the songs are worth it alone. bonus of Dolores Hart. to me this one is perfect.

2-The trouble with girls 1969 (very odd movie but I was entertained, he has a big role but it’s not really all about him. Bonus of Vincent Price, Nicole Jaffe original voice of Velma in Scooby Doo, Frank Welker famous voice over actor. I also liked the fact that Elvis pretty much chain smokes cigars in this movie (bad me, I know). The interesting thing is that Elvis didn’t want to be seen smoking in movies, interviews or official pictures because it would set a bad example, but he really was a cigar-cigarillo smoker in real life. I think he smokes a bit in wild in the country but that’s it. Anyway, I don’t know if it was because it was one of his last movies and he said f**** it. I really don’t know the story behind that. I’ve never seen someone smoke so much in a movie except maybe for Joaquin Phoenix in the Joker 😂.

3-King Creole 1958 (good script, good songs, good actors, amazing director, also with Dolores Hart) 10/10

4-Girl Happy 1965 (just happy nonsense with good songs 😂)

5-Love me tender 1956 (I love the songs, good story, it’s his first movie, he’s not a bad actor, he has an innocence that’s attractive, he seems vulnerable)

6-Flaming Star 1960 (it’s a western ❤️, practically no songs and he’s a very good actor) I really like his more serious dramatic roles. I wish there were more.

7-Wild in the Country 1961 (only 3 songs, drama, forbidden love, very good kissing scenes 🔥 and love scenes, I was surprised for the time, it doesn’t seem abrupt, it’s very tender and feels real) stupid Hays code 😑 directors really had to find ways around that.

8-Viva Las Vegas (because of Ann-Margret, their chemistry 🔥)

9-It happened at the world’s fair 1963 (because of nostalgic reasons, saw it as a kid)

10-G.I. Blues 1960 (same reason as #9 and the song Wooden Heart)

11-Frankie & Johnny 1966 (it’s different, it feels like a stage musical and I love the songs)

12-Charro! (I like westerns and I was expecting it to really be bad because of the reviews but it’s actually good, also Elvis with a beard)

13-Roustabout 1964 happy nonsense fun movie and I absolutely love the soundtrack, I listen to it often.

I’ve seen 29 out of 31 movies of Elvis Presley. I could not finish Stay away Joe, I really don’t like that one. It’s of course a product of it’s time and I’m keeping that in mind but it’s just so awful or I’m just not in the mood. I have not even attempted to watch Harum Scarum, we’ll see in time if I’m in the mood.

[chilling-seavey]

CHRISTIAN AND HIS SOULMATE BLURB. LITERALLY ANYTHING ABOUT THEM. EVEN ✨crumbs✨ -🙃

Will their first meeting suffice as ‘crumbs’? hehe

September 1957

Christian met his soulmate pretty early into his first year of college actually – although they didn’t know they were soulmates at first. He had followed his roommate to a party in the dorms which wasn’t his usual scene but he was the type of guy who was willing to try anything at least once. The room was packed with people and the music from the record player was loud as they navigated through the crowd to find his roommate’s friends somewhere in the apartment-style dorm.

“Over here!” his roommate led him to the kitchen where there was a smaller group of boys standing around, each with a glass bottle of Coca-Cola in their hands.

Christian was introduced to each of them and they got talking, catching up on things from school and where they were all from. They were nice enough guys and Christian was sure he found his group for the rest of the school year.

The dancing soon started in the middle of the living space and the guys headed over as people paired up to share a dance. The record player filled the apartment with upbeat music and the body heat of the party raised the temperature a lot, especially with the dancing. A few couples were really getting into it, earning cheers from the viewers around the living room and even Christian himself was impressed by the skill some of them had when it came to keeping rhythm – he certainly couldn’t relate.

Soon, his eyes drifted across the dancefloor, past the dancing couples and through the crowd, landing right on a brunette girl on the other side of the living room. She was standing with another girl but seemed out of place, arguably a tad shy even, and her brown eyes raised to catch Christian’s gaze. Despite the heat of the bustling party, shivers tore down his arms and he looked away quickly. It was a strange and unfamiliar feeling but Christian couldn’t help but look back over at her.

Before he could think it through, it felt like his feet were pulling him across the room, right past the edge of the dancing space and over to the unfamiliar girl with the long wavy brown hair. He stopped in front of her. She glanced up at him – although not by much as she was tall enough to rest her chin on his shoulder if she wished – and Christian froze.

“Hi there.” she said through a small smile, a hint of an accent present in her voice.

“Hello.” Christian replied.

They were both quiet a moment and then laughed lightly, nervously, at the slight awkwardness of their situation.

“I don’t know why I came over here I…my feet seemed to have a find of their own.” he said.

“That’s alright.” she assured him and then held out her hand, “Jana.”

“Christian.” he replied, switching his empty soda bottle into his other hand to he could take her handshake. “Are you…are you from around here?”

“No, I’m here for a study abroad experience just for this year. I’ll be heading back to Europe come the summer.”

“Europe? Whereabouts?”

“I’ll tell you that once I’m sure you’re not trying to stalk me.” she teased.

“Shoot, I guess you foiled my plan.” Christian chuckled.

They both shared a smile and looked away again. Christian glanced back to his roommate who was busy hitting on another girl across the room and once they both leaned in to share a heated kiss, Christian looked away.

Jana had followed his eyes across the room and when he turned back to her she spoke, “Is that your friend?”

“Roommate, yes. Friend too, I suppose.”

“I see. My roommate is the one he’s kissing.” Jana said.

“Oh, swell. We have something in common.”

His joke made her laugh and the sound made his heart hammer in his chest, the intensity of his feelings making him furrow his eyebrows a moment and look down into his empty soda bottle as if wondering if it was actually alcohol that was making him feel this warm inside.

“My roommate is vastly different from myself, so we don’t quite get along.” Jana continued, “She’s a nice girl but…not my type of friend.”

“Yes. I understand that.” Christian agreed.

She glanced back to the dancing couples and Christian took a moment to admire her discreetly; her brown wavy hair that fell down her back, soft brown eyes that reflected the warm light of the living room until he was sure he saw them sparkle, and her light makeup that made it only more obvious to him how naturally beautiful she was.

“What is your major?”

Christian snapped back to reality when she spoke, his cheeks flushing red as he was caught staring, “Oh…English.”

“A true literary. I admire that.”

Christian cracked a small smile, “I suppose. You?”

“Film and television media.”

“Wow.”

“I guess California was the best place to do my study abroad then, huh?” she chuckled.

“Absolutely.” Christian agreed. “I’m certainly glad.”

They shared small bashful smiles before looking away again. They soon found themselves at the kitchen table, too engrossed in conversation to eat or drink as they spoke effortlessly about their life goals and all their aspirations, about their families and life at home, and made a few jokes as their senses of humour seemed to compliment each other nicely. They ended up laughing together until the other couple at the table got up and left them alone – the strange duo who laughed more than talked. They talked until the party was over and people were leaving and it was nearing midnight. Their chairs had gotten closer and closer throughout the few hours they spent at the kitchen table until their shoulders were touching and Jana was turned slightly to face towards him.

“I should probably head back to my room.” she said.

“Me too.” Christian agreed. “I had fun tonight.”

Jana leaned in to kiss his cheek sweetly and the simple action tore shivers down his spine again as she pulled away, “As did I.”

He watched her leave the apartment without another word and it was only until Christian was halfway back to his own dorm room that he realized he never asked for her phone number. He cursed himself about it as he got into bed, not knowing when he would ever see her again, until the next morning she happened to be in the same elevator as him on campus.

The universe works in mysterious ways.

Also can we take a look at how high school/university parties looked in the 50s? Get me some of these vibes please omg

[allicekitty13]

Born To Run: Chapter 1

Mary-Alice Brandon has just returned to her hometown after an incident causing her to relocate just a year ago. Meanwhile, Jasper has become increasingly frustrated with his home life and decides to uncover just what exactly his brother had been hiding. In 1957 two people, with two drastically different personalities meet for the first time. Will their worlds clash or will they realize the only ones they can truly trust with their secrets are each other.

Read On Ao3

Read On FFN

Her eyes fluttered open at the prompting chime of her alarm clock currently ringing on the bedside table to her right. Mustering up as much energy as possible when one was just pulled promptly frum slumber, Alice rolled from the comfortable position on her side to lie flat on her back. Despite the powder blue clock still ringing throughout her bedroom, Alice couldn't help but to reflect on the wonderful dream she'd been having.

In the night vision, she'd been back in Paris shopping with her step-sister Kate. Being in France the past year had been like a dream come true, a much-needed break from the reality she'd been forced to return to. Kate was newly engaged and thus had decided to return home to Nevada with Alice and her fiance, Garrett, in tow. 

Alice's stomach grumbled loudly and painfully, pulling her from the reminiscing session. She snapped her eyes shut tightly, attempting to ignore the alarm's offending bell and the painful ache in her stomach.  Of course, it was no use; her vacation was over. It was time to come down from the clouds and return to reality. Needing to focus on one issue at a time and the alarm still prompting to her side currently being the most prominent, Alice took a deep breath accepting her fate. Summing the energy to flick the little tab on top of the clock to the off position effectively silenced the alarm blanketing the room in silence. 

Willing herself to sit up fully, Alice removed the pale pink sleeping mask covering her eyes, finally greeting the day. She pulled the plush comforter away from her small body and swung her left over the mattress, placing her feet in the house slippers kept neatly next to the bed. She pulled the think pink satin robe that hung from her bedpost over her thin shoulders as she crossed the room to the window overlooking the back garden. Pulling open the lace curtains, Alice gazed down at the flowers.

It was just before dawn, her favorite time of the day. Alice reveled in the way the dim twilight touched down on the beautiful flowers and the small white iron bench she had coerced her father into placing in the middle of the lovely space. The scene was peaceful; day had started, although night hadn't quite ended. Nature reflecting how nothing was black and white; there were gray areas in everything, in everyone. Nothing like the reality she would be walking into in only a few hours. 

Turning her attention back to the clock, the small teen accepted that she had been staring out the window, lost in thought for far too long. Something her step-father, whom she was meant to meet for breakfast shortly, was regularly scolding her for.

She didn't remember her biological father, and her mother rarely spoke of the man. The facts she had were that her parents had been wed young in an arranged marriage in 1938, Edgar Brandon had been drafted to join the war just two years after Alice was born. The man had gone missing in action, presumed dead. 

Shortly after Alice's fourth birthday, Lilian had met a charming man by the name of Eleazar Burke. Before the year was out, the happy couple were married. Eleazar was the only father Alice had ever known. The now seventeen-year-old adored her unusual family; Kate was more than she could have ever asked for in an older sibling they, of course, fought at times but very close. While they may not be biologically related, Alice couldn't imagine a kinder, more understanding father in Eleazar. He loved all three of his daughters, including Alice, equally never playing favorites. He didn't play favorites, distributing the wealth and opportunity attached to his name evenly between the three girls.

Once she'd gotten moving, preparing for the day came like second nature. She now stood in front of the mirror with her hair and makeup done. She was fully dressed in her favorite skirt and sweater set, complete with the new petticoat she had picked up shopping with Kate over the summer. She'd been saving it specifically for her first day at school back in her hometown since the incident. The way it flared out the red skirt was both fashionable and made her hips look just a bit thicker. The matching cardigan hung somewhat loose, also in line with the current trends while slightly masking the frailness of her frame. She smoothed down the skirt and straightened out her pan collar perfectly before pinning both sides down with the lucky pearl collar pins inherited from her maternal grandmother. Alice took one final look in the mirror with a deep breath and silent prayer. She plastered a smile on her face, ready to face the day.

Meanwhile, across town, Jasper Whitlock was in for a quite literal rude awakening. "Wake up, sleepyhead. We're gonna' be late for school." With a groan of annoyance, Jasper opened his eyes to the familiar face of his cousin Rosalie. The sassy blonde was simultaneously one of his favorite people yet also the curse of his existence. Jasper frequently shifted between feelings of gratefulness for having such a fun-loving relative living next door and wishing her family had never moved across the country to help out after his mother's passing.

With her presently standing next to his bed, hands on her hips, very likely fully prepared to throw something at him if he didn't get moving. He was currently feeling the latter. "Since when do you care about school?" He groaned, sitting up on the thin mattress lying on the floor. "More importantly, why are you here, and how did you get in my room?"

"The door, your dads passed out again and it was unlocked." Rosalie shrugged, crossing the room to take a seat at the only chair not covered in clothing, sheet music, or records as she examined her nails. "Anyway, I don't care about school, but I don't want to miss the fireworks, so we're at least going to morning classes. Now, get up and get dressed."

"What are you yammering on about?" Jasper responded as he threw the worn, tattered blankets to the side and grabbed a white t-shirt from its place, lazily shoved into an already open dresser drawer directly to the side of his mattress.

"Mary-Alice Brandon is coming back today."

"Yeah," The other teen rolled his eyes. "Well fuck Mary-Alice Brandon."

"Oh, come on, tell me you don't care about the inherent entertainment of watching everyone flock back to following her lead and leaving poor Charlotte in the dust."

"You're demented."

"You know how petty high school politics amuse me so." The tall blonde woman shrugged before she stood straightening out her leather jacket as she crossed the room. "At least come to support your best friend? Charlotte is either going to be elated or upset. If it's the latter, it's going to make Pete upset. Relationships are kind of like dominos that way. Now hurry up, Riley's waiting outside, and we need a ride, oh favorite cousin of mine."

With that, Rosalie confidently strutted out of her cousin's room, down that hallway. In the Whitlock's living room, her mother and uncle were engaged in the same decade-old argument they'd been having from the moment Ruth and Joseph Hale had packed up their family moving from New York to Nevada. Rosalie had only been one at the time, having no memory of what actually happened. The backlash, however, had caused a ripple effect through the lives of everyone in the family. Because of this, it was no secret that Irene Whitlock had passed away shortly after Jasper's birth. That uncle Thomas had fallen into deep despair losing his job and drinking the days away. 

It was concern for the boys, James and Jasper, that had prompted the move. Her mother so worried for her nephew's well being that they'd relocated their entire lives to be there and help take care of them. It was meant to be temporary until Thomas got back on his feet. Seventeen years later, the siblings were still arguing over it. Her mother pleading for the man to think of his children. 

Unwilling to witness the same fight yet again, Rosalie left the house and headed to the street where her twin brother stood leaning against Jasper's car. "Is he coming?" Riley asked, disinterestedly kicking absently at the pavement, scuffing up his shoes in the process. 

"Yeah, I had to guilt-trip him, but he's coming."

Just as the words had left Rosalie's mouth, the seventeen-year-old in question came shuffling out of the house. Once the door was carefully and quietly shut behind him, Jasper's demeanor shifted, and he confidently stalked down the sidewalk, climbing into his car without uttering a single word. No sooner had the twins piled into the vehicle behind him than Jasper had peeled out of the driveway headed in the direction of the local high school, barely giving Riley enough time to pull the door shut.

Outside the school, Peter, Jasper's best friend, a tall boy with dark hair, was standing in the parking lot talking to Charlotte. The pair had begun dating over the summer, much to Jasper's annoyance. Their relationship had started in the fall when the girl had entered the antique shop owned by Jasper's uncle that Peter worked in part-time. The two had hit it off as instant friends. Despite a plethora of drama involving Charlotte's now ex-boyfriend Demetri and her friend Jane, the pair had entered into a romantic relationship.

While Jasper didn't particularly care for the girl or her crowd, Peter was gone for her. So the teen put up with Charlotte, and more often than he'd like the teenage queens who followed her around like puppies. Over time, though he would die before admitting it to anyone, he'd even begun to almost like her.

So, when he exited his car, Jasper nodded in greeting to the new couple from across the parking lot before turning to his own social circle in the parking space next to his own. The teens were gathered around admiring Benjamin's new car that he'd won in a race just a few weeks prior. Maria, one of his oldest friends having grown up in the same neighborhood, was already stretched out across the hood leaning back against the windshield. A cigarette burned from its place tucked loosely between her fingers as she chatted with Lucy and Nettie about their plans for the afternoon once they'd ditched.

Jasper was well aware that most if any of the assembled teenagers would be ducking out before the end of the school day. Personally, he intended to be long gone as soon as Rosalie's attention was elsewhere. Which, judging by how engaged she seemed to be in her conversation with Benjamin and Randall on the mechanical details of the new car, wouldn't be long. However, he was already here, and it wouldn't hurt to at least stay for first period. So he elected to join in on Riley, Makenna, and Charles's conversation about the new Buddy Holly single.

Jasper had just made plans with the latter two to head to the local diner later and play the song on the jukebox when Peter, followed closely by Charlotte, headed over to collect his best friend for homeroom. Bidding his friends goodbye, Jasper followed the other boy, his girlfriends, and the group of students she associated with into the building where their lockers were located. As always, because lockers were assigned alphabetically by surname, Peter and Jasper's lockers were right next to each other. 

Not planning on being an active student, let alone showing up at school more often than necessary, Jasper hadn't brought alone anything to warrant keeping in a locker. So, he took a seat on a bench located under a window next to the set of lockers letting the other teens chat as they placed their belonging in the metal storage structures. 

"Is that Mary-Alice?" Eric Yorke, a rather talkative and, in Jasper's opinion, annoying boy gasped out capturing his and Charlotte's attention. The latter turned away from her conversation with Bella and Jane to look at the boy in confusion. 

Charlotte had known her best friend was back in town, but when they'd spoken earlier Alice, as she'd decided to begin going by dropping the first half of her name, had stated her parents would allow the tiny teen to skip the first week of classes. Being an exceptional student well on the way to becoming valedictorian, and taking the incident into consideration, the school had happily accommodated.

"I thought you said she wasn't coming back until next week Char?" Bella spoke quietly, her eyes now following the same trajectory of Eric's

"Looks like the reign of Charlotte is over." Mike snickered, also staring at the top of the stairwell. Following her friends' gaze, Charlotte's expression quickly morphed from one of confusion to that of utter delight. 

Jasper didn't care much for the particulars of high school politics. Prior to Peter's entanglement with Charlotte, the name Mary-Alice had been nothing more than a blip on his radar. The two ran in vastly different circles, he being a proud greaser surrounding himself with like-minded truants who cared more about races and the newest records than anything else. She, a spoiled overachiever. The goody-two-shoes type who headed every committee whose word the majority of student's hung on. Still, even he'd noticed when the girl had disappeared a year ago. So, he turned his attention to the sight that had captured everyone's attention, curious as to what the commotion was about.

 He was met with the sight of a girl who's smile was so pure she almost seemed to glow. Short despite her blatant attempt to make up the difference with the kitten heels she wore. Her slightly curly hair was a chocolate-colored brown rested just short of her chin. Based on the perfect angles of her collar and the way she kept nervously smoothing out her skirt, it was apparent that she'd taken great care to ensure every aspect of her appearance was perfect. His dislike for the teen was instant; he hardly tried to hide the scowl from his face as he watched her scan the hallway. Once her blue eyes landed upon the small group, she burst into a bright smile and a somehow graceful run down the stairwell.

"Charlotte!" Alice exclaimed in a melodic chirp as she reached the gathering. 

"Alice!" The taller girl responded with equal enthusiasm throwing her arms around her friend. "What are you doing at school?" She questioned the smile never leaving her face as she released her friend.

"Papa thought it might be best to just jump right in if I was up for it since I'm home already." Her smile faltered at the statement but returned quickly. "Who are our new friends?" She asked catching sight of Jasper and Peter eyeing the two with curiosity. The former of whom rolled his eyes at the assumption, he was not nor would her ever be her friend.

Jasper opened his mouth to inform this 'Mary-Alice' of as much, but Charlotte responded before he could get the words out. "Alice," She stated grabbing Peter's hand. "This is Peter, my boyfriend. And that's his best friend Jasper."

"Wow," Alice's eyes widened. "I have missed a lot. It's lovely to meet you both." She smiled once again as she took a seat on the bench next to Jasper, expertly tucking her skirt underneath her slim legs as she descended. "The four of us should go bowling after school; I'd love to get to know the both of you better."

Jasper's annoyance grew at the suggestion, unable to put up with anymore he stood in a haste. "That's never going to happen." He shot the small girl a glare and stormed down the hall out of the building. Forget Rosalie, he thought approaching his vehicle in the parking lot. Forget school, and most of all forget Mary-Alice Brandon.

[365days365movies]

March 11, 2021: The Seventh Seal (1957) (Part One)

Well, I did Cocteau this month already, so...time for another big boi director, I guess.

I’m sorry for me, too, because this one scares me a little more than Cocteau.

Ingmar Bergman. One of the greatest directors of all time, and the only prominent Swedish director that I’ve ever heard of. Also someone whom I’m DEFINITELY not qualified to judge, but here we are anyway.

Best known for Persona, Fanny and Alexander, and...one more movie, Bergman was an EXTREMELY prolific director, and far more influential on global film than you or I know. Seriously, dude influenced everyone from Martin Scorcese to Terry Jones to Peter Hewitt in one way or another. He’s passed away, as of 2007, at the age of 89. And speaking of Death...

There have been a LOT of incarnations of Death in media. Hell, we literally looked at one two movies ago, in Orpheus. You could argue that Ugetsu also revolved around death, but I’m talking about Death, the physical embodiment of the concept.

Now, the most common incarnation seen is the Grim Reaper (pictured above), but there are MANY other well-known versions. Here, have a few different versions, just for taste.

Yeah, that’s a lot. Kudos if you knew all of them! But that last one...I mentioned Peter Hewitt earlier. He directed Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey, and in it, the two meet that films version of Death, a Swedish-accented ghoul. And if you’ve ever wondered about that, or about this joke from the opening song of Muppets: Most Wanted:

...Well, keep reading. Like I said, Bergman was influential, and perhaps NONE of his films was quite as influential as The Seventh Seal or Det sjunde ingelet. Welcome to a show about Death.

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

ONCE AGAIN, The Criterion Collection logo brings us in, followed by the opening credits and music from that should accompany a Dark Souls boss, followed by a quote from Revelation 8:1-6, about the opening of the Seventh Seal. Roll credits?

Well, no. Instead, on the shore of the Atlantic Ocean, we meet a knight, resting there and praying to God, as his horses drink from the salt water. This is Antonius Block (Max von Sydow), a knight who is resting here with his squire, Jöns (Gunnar Björnstrand). As Block takes out his chess set, he is joined by...

ALREADY?

Holy shit, I didn’t expect this scene to happen FOUR MINUTES IN??? Dear Lord, if this is happening now, what the hell is the rest of this movie? I am afraid of that answer now.

Anyway, yes, this is Death (Bengt Ekerot). And yeah, dude is indeed a CREEPY motherfucker. He’s been at Block’s side for a long time, but has now finally come for him, at last.

However, Block, ever clever knight that he is, capitalizes on rumors that he’s heard about the character, and challenges him to a game of chess. They start, with Block playing white and Death playing black.

But as they’re about to begin, we cut to Block and Jöns leaving the beach. Huh. OK then, I guess we’ll get back to that, huh? Jöns speaks of ill omens, and they see a pair of corpses, rotted after a long time dead. As their journey continues, we shift focus from them to a small group of actors in a caravan.

One of these actors - Jof (Nils Poppe) - sees a vision of a woman walking with her infant child, as angelic music plays in the background. He runs back to the caravan, where he wakes the sleeping Mia (Bibi Andersson), his wife. He tells her that this was the Virgin Mary and her baby boy, Jesus. Um...wow. Holy shit, my man.

Mia takes her husband’s vision as his active imagination, while he takes it as pure fact. Apparently, he’s very prone to having these kinds of visions. Mia warns him to tamp those visions down, or people will think him a fool. All of this rouses both fellow actor Jonas Skat (Erik Strandmark), and Jöns and Mia’s infant son Mikael (a cute chubby baby).

The troupe is on their way to Einsmore, performing for a group of priests. They will perform in a play about Death, once again making me think about Beetlejuice the Musical, which is really need to watch.

Block and Jöns arrive at a church, where real-world painter Albertus Pictor (Gunnar Olsson) is painting a Danse Macabre. Jöns asks why paint something so...well, macabre, and Pictor notes that it’s not a bad thing to remind people that they will die. This is especially as the Black Plague sweeps across Europe. YUP. IT’S THAT TIME PERIOD.

The two speak more on the absolute HORROR of the Bubonic Plague, a topic that clearly bothers Jöns. Meanwhile, Block goes to pray in a confessional, where he reveals that he doesn’t truly understand the point of prayer in this world. He’s clearly struggling with his faith, which must be HELL for a knight. And he delivers these confessions to his ever-present companion: Death.

Block wants God to speak to him directly, and questions whether or not God truly exists. He wants to do one last, meaningful thing before he meets his inevitable end. Block hasn’t yet realized that he’s speaking with Death, and openly talks about the chess game they began that morning. Death replies that they will continue their game in a nearby inn. This is how Block intends to prolong his own life.

He goes back out to meet Jöns, who’s still speaking with the painter, and the two leave the church. Directly outside, a woman is in the stocks, and is preparing to be burnt at the stake for learning carnal knowledge of Satan. She’s also being blamed for being the cause of the Black Plague itself. Just gotta say, big if true, goddamn. Black wants to know if she’s met the Devil himself, but she’s not quite all there.

Block and Jöns continue their journey, making their way from farmlands. Jöns goes into one of the barns in a village, where a dead body lies. He then hides as another man enters, and steals jewelry from the woman’s corpse. This is Raval (Bertil Anderberg), and he’s quickly caught in the act by a mute woman (Gunnel Lindblom).

However, before he can do anything to this poor girl, he’s stopped by Jöns, who recognizes him from the seminary, ten years prior. He tells him to shove off, and offers the mute woman a place as his housekeeper. And, uh...yeah, Jöns is kind of a dick, but more of a cad, y’know? He’s not likeable, but he also isn’t hateable.

In town, the actors’ troupe is performing, and the leader of the troupe - Skat - is seduced by a woman during the performance, and they have sex in the bushes behind the stage. As all of this is happening, the performance is interrupted by a group of flagellants, extremist priests that whip themselves and parade through the town, showing their extreme devotion to their faith. Fuckin’ yikes, this is a thing that ACTUALLY HAPPENED.

And as these people, devoted in their faith and pain, march through the town, the townspeople are moved to tears by this act. And this act has real blood, sweat, and tears poured into it. The head priest of the parade then gives a fatalist sermon to the townsfolk, noting that death will come for them all with the plague, and berating them for their seeming ignorance of their fate.

And dude is MEAN. He mocks people’s appearance, and screams to all of them that they’re doomed, and will die painful deaths. Watching on is not only the actors’ troupe, but also Block, Jöns, and the mute girl (yeah, she never gets a name, goddamn it). The pain parade moves on, singing their solemn hymns all the way. And I’m not gonna lie...it’s intense. Especially knowing that this shit actually HAPPENED? Damn.

Once they pass, Jöns notes his disbelief at this display, never believing how far people will go, or the stories that they’ll tell. He’s interrupted by blacksmith Plog (Åke Fridell), who’s looking for his wife. Meanwhile, inside, a group of townspeople talk about the spreading plague, and wonder if this is the end times indeed. Plog comes in and asks Jof where his wife is. He also doesn’t know, but it’s revealed that this is the woman that Skat ran off with in the bushes. The conversation is joined by thief Raval, who outs Jof as an actor, and a friend of Skat.

Raval and Plog both threaten him for information on Skat and Lisa’s whereabouts, and humiliate him in front of the entire tavern. It’s actually quite hard to watch as well. This poor, poor guy, who seems like a nice enough dude, is essentally tortured for the transgressions of his asshole friend. But it’s interrupted by Jöns, who stops Raval in his tracks, and slashes his face, which he said he’d do if he ever saw him again.

Excellent spot for Part 2, I think! See you there!

[mst3kproject]

Sorority Girl

 It can be hard to find this specific movie, since several others have been made with the same title, even as recently as the nineties.  Us MSTies, however, demand the original – the one with Susan Cabot and June Kenney from The Viking Women and the Sea Serpent and Dick Miller from Gunslinger and It Conquered the World.  It was produced and directed by the reliably awful Roger Corman, and Ms. Cabot has apparently said in interviews that they didn’t really have a script, just a list of stuff that was supposed to happen.  Sorority Girl is a step up from Curse of Bigfoot, but that’s praise so faint that you’d need the Hubble Space Telescope to pick it out.

College student Sabra is a colossal bitch and nobody likes her.  Unsurprisingly, the only person who doesn’t understand the correlation between these two facts is Sabra herself.  Determined that others should suffer the way she has, she plays her sorority sisters against each other until her mind games drive one of them to attempt suicide. Then I think she drowns herself. The end.

On a technical level, Sorority Girl looks and sounds very nice – the photography is crisp and the blocking and direction, while nothing spectacular, tell us what we need to know. You can tell who’s who and remember everybody’s names, and the costume designer did a good job of suggesting everybody’s personalities and goals through their clothing.  The soundtrack puts both music and silence to pretty good use. The only glaring flaw in the film itself is a scene in which the sound of rolling waves almost drowns out the dialogue, but that might just be my sound system.

It’s sufficiently well put-together that it makes me kind of angry, because all that relative competence is in the service of this nasty, depressing movie that hates everybody and everything.  Watching it makes you feel like you need a shower. The movie is here to show us women being horrible and spanking each other (no, really), but it’s not even over-the-top enough to be any fun.

I don’t understand who we’re supposed to root for in this movie.  It can’t be Sabra herself, because she’s thoroughly horrible and there’s not even any reason for her to be doing what she does.  It’s not like the others have wronged her in any way – if they had, perhaps we could take some nasty joy in her revenge but we can’t. If the rest of the girls had any sort of spine we could root for them, but they’re nonentities.  Future student president Rita stands up tall in front of voters but is a pushover in a crunch.  Shy Ellie is nothing but Sabra’s punching bag and we feel sorry for her but she’s too pathetic to actually like.  Troubled Tina is pregnant and we feel for her predicament but she, too, is more an object of pity than a heroine.  Sabra’s mother seems to love her but doesn’t understand what she needs.

Sabra’s motivations remain a mystery even to herself. She makes various excuses for them throughout the movie – she claims she wants revenge on Rita’s boyfriend Mort for snubbing her.  She gets Tina to join her in her blackmail scheme because she says they both need money. At the end she yells at everybody, saying she was driven to this because they wouldn’t let her into their clique. No sort of excuse is ever given for her appalling cruelty to Ellie, who really does seem to look up to her.  In Sabra’s own words, she just feels driven to hurt people and doesn’t know why.

All her schemes fail anyway.  She doesn’t manage to take Mort away from Rita.  She doesn’t manage to get the money she tries to blackmail him for.  She doesn’t even succeed in staying out of trouble for the shit she’s already pulled, since at the end everybody gets together, agrees she’s terrible, and turns her in.  We’re left feeling like this whole story went by and nothing was ever accomplished. The other characters’ stories don’t come to any conclusion either.  We don’t find out if Rita won the election or if she and Mort will get married.  We don’t find out what’s going to happen to Tina other than that her parents are coming to pick her up.  We don’t find out if Ellie got a life.  Everything is just left dangling.

It is never explicit how old any of these characters are supposed to be, but both Sabra and Tina are said to be financially dependent on their parents, and the movie seems to be going for some sort of statement about young people getting into trouble when unsupervised, so I’m going to assume they’re undergraduates.  All the actors are, of course, about thirty.  Some of them, like June Kenney as Tina, look younger.  Some, like Barbara Cowan as Ellie, are trying to look younger and failing.  Others, like Dick Miller as Mort, look older.  The biggest casting mistake was forty-year-old Fay Baker as Sabra’s mother. She’s just barely old enough to have a college-aged child, but Susan Cabot is in no way young enough to be that child. I could buy Baker as Cabot’s stepmother, but when she’s supposed to be her actual mother I just keep thinking of Space Mutiny.

Perhaps it’s not fair to complain about Mort’s age, since he manages the campus pub and may not be a student.  If that’s the case, though, it does make one wonder about his relationship with undergraduate Rita… and the string of prior student girlfriends he’s mentioned… so let’s just not go there.

We get hints that Sabra may be mentally ill. She seems to be upset by her own inability to stop doing terrible things, and at one point reaches out to her mother for help.  Her mother assumes she just wants money, and brushes her off.  Perhaps we’re meant to think Sabra feels ignored and powerless, and therefore seeks power in whatever form she can get it.  We’re probably supposed to feel sorry for her but other than the one visit to her mother she never seems to make any real attempt to better herself.  She gives up, goes back to school, and resumes trying to ruin everybody’s life.  It’s really quite appropriate that the movie is bookended by Sabra sitting on the beach whining about how she wishes she could start over, because it ends exactly where it began.  Sabra is still a colossal bitch and nobody likes her.

If this movie were going to have any sort of punch, I really think it needed to be just a tiny bit longer.  Rather than watching Sabra just sit and cry on the seashore, we needed to see her face the consequences of her actions, whether that was arrest, expulsion, disownment, or some combination of the above.  Her implied suicide is just a means whereby both she and the writers can avoid any thought of consequences, and is inherently unsatisfying.

Watching the movie for the first time, I really expected Tina to jump and for the truth to come out only after she was dead.  Realizing she had somebody’s blood on her hands might have been enough to shock Sabra out of her self-absorbed haze and actually try to be a better person, only to find it was far too late.  That this does not happen is in some ways a relief, but it also kind of feels like the movie chickened out.  Tina dying would certainly not have made Sorority Girl into a good movie, but it would have been a far more impactful one.

On the other hand, Tina not dying includes the single detail in this entire movie that I actually liked.  Throughout the movie, Tina has been sitting on her terrible secret and wondering what to do about it.  She never tells a soul – Sabra only finds out because Ellie, Tina’s room-mate, heard her talking in her sleep – out of fear that she’ll be branded a slut and treated as an outcast.  Such was the 50’s.  Certainly the thought of telling her parents never even seems to occur to her.

But the movie never treats the situation as Tina’s fault.  Her pregnancy is not a punishment as Paula’s was in The Violent Years, it’s just a problem that exists and one Tina isn’t coping with very well.  Other than Sabra, everybody who finds out about it takes steps to help.  Ellie immediately tells Sabra because she believes that Sabra will know what to do – and when Sabra orders her to keep the secret for Tina’s sake, Ellie does so even when interrogated by the house mother.  Sabra, being the colossal bitch she is, then blackmails Tina into blackmailing Mort, threatening to tell everybody he’s the father unless he gives her money.  Mort refuses to be blackmailed but he doesn’t judge Tina for being pregnant.  Instead, once she’s gone he gets in touch with her parents for her… and they don’t judge her either, but immediately come to her aid. So good on the writers, if there were any, for that!

This solidarity also makes the point that all the girls in this sorority really are there for each other and it’s literally just Sabra who is the reason they can’t have nice things.  I still don’t know if we’re really supposed to feel sorry for Sabra but this particular detail makes it even harder.

Of all the movies that were ever on MST3K, the one Sorority Girl most reminds me of is The Sidehackers.  They don’t have anything in common plot-wise, but both have endings in which nobody wins and it seems like there was no point besides to make the audience feel crummy and lose all faith in the human race.  I don’t know what was going on in the year 1957, but here in 2020 we do not need help with that shit.  I’m gonna go watch Pixar movies for the rest of the week.

[tessatechaitea]

Justice League International #9 (1988)

I guess that means Black Canary will have to defeat the Manhunters.

I read The Lord of the Rings trilogy when I was twelve and I'll admit that I thought Éowyn killing the Witch-king was a pretty good twist on the prophecy that he would not be killed by the hand of man. Later, as I got old enough to despise everything in the world because my sense of wonder had been worn down to a nub like a well-used eraser, I realized twelve year old me was a credulous little rat bastard who wouldn't know a good twist if it jumped up out of the lake as a drowned zombie boy and pulled him under just when he thought the film was over and he was safe. Wait a second. I don't want to discuss Éowyn anymore! Maybe I'll get back to it but I've just realized something more important. If Jason had drowned and remained a little boy from 1957 to 1979, how does he become a grown ass adult in the subsequent movies?! I suppose serious Friday the 13th fans believe Alice simply imagined being pulled into the lake, since the police found no trace of a small boy. And the actual Jason didn't drown at all but received such severe brain damage that he decided to live in the woods like Grizzly Adams. Maybe he didn't even remember his mother until she showed up to murder all those counselors and he learned who he was by observing the first movie from the woods. Then we was all, "Man! That woman killed Ma! I'll show her you can't behead my Ma and not get beheaded yourself!" Hmm, that was too easy to solve once I spent any time at all thinking about it. I wonder how many hours I could lose looking up what actual fans of the franchise think? I'll never know though because I dislike fans and fan theories almost as much as I dislike my twelve year old self for being so amazed by the Éowyn twist! Maybe the Éowyn twist is just as good as I thought it was 37 years ago. It's not like I've ever gone back to re-read The Lord of the Rings. I've only read a handful of books more than once in my life and have never re-read a book immediately after reading it until now with Gravity's Rainbow. You can blame Thomas Pynchon on my lack of reading comic books lately because his book was so fucking good and had so much going on that I had to read it again immediately. This issue takes place during the big DC Millennium event so it might be a bit confusing for me. I'll be damned if I'm going to dig through one of the forty comic book boxes lying around just to find Millennium to read before this.

No thanks! I think I'll just muddle through!

Remember when DC had huge events that crossed over into every single comic they put out but were totally boring and inconsequential and didn't have "METAL!" in the title? I'm so glad those days are over and Scott Snyder has made crossover events super fucking hardcore and radical again! *five minutes of mouth guitar noises*

Oh! Is this some of that Éowyn-like prophetic foreshadowing?!

Rocket Red #7 has to be the most lame attempt at having a team member betray the team, especially since he's immediately replaced by Rocket Red #4. "Whoa! What a twist!" I probably thought back at my still tender and rat-bastardly age of sixteen. Rocket Red #7 comes right out and tells everybody that he's a Manhunter. I guess part of the Manhunter philosophy is to first try and recruit man. If unsuccessful, only then do you hunt man. Batman explains to Manhunter Rocket Red #7 how to painfully shove offers like that up excretory orifices. After Black Canary gets on his ass several times for not including her in his exclamations of "gentlemen," Manhunter Rocket Red #7 learns to say, "No man—or woman—can escape the Manhunters!" So I guess no Éowyn twist this time. Hell, I'll probably never learn the twist for how the Manhunters can be defeated because that's the kind of plot point that's going to take place in the actual Millennium issues. And I probably won't re-read those for another few years!

"Suck on this, manhunter!" was my most commonly used phrase in college.

Black Canary is so concerned about gender equality maybe she should be scolding Batman for not hiring any other women. Rocket Red #7 beats the shit out of everybody inside the ship (not Beetle's Bug for some reason probably explained in Millennium #1) and then flies out to stand on top of it and not say he's king of the world because Titanic wasn't the huge breakout romantic hit it would be a decade later. What a great movie! It had everything! Boobs, guns, people dying. Like an Agatha Christie novel but with boobs! Once Rocket Red #7 is outside of the ship, the members of the Justice League with actual, non-screaming-related super-powers take notice of him. That's because they're flying to show off to the others their super powers. The characters I'm talking about are Guy Gardner and Martian Manhunter. Booster Gold is also flying outside the ship but he's just a small town thief with a Legion flight ring and a force field. He doesn't even have a manly bulge in this super tight suit! One thing I learned that maybe I knew once but probably not for long because I don't think it was ever front loaded as part of his characterization is that Rocket Red (like all Rocket Reds) is a techno-empath. That means his suit allows him to control technology by crying or getting angry. If you know for a fact that it means something else, just keep it to yourself, okay? This isn't fucking Wikipedia. It's a stupid joke review blog that, most of the time, forgets to even review the comic book. Nobody knows how to stop Rocket Red #7 from crashing the ship into a Bialian oil refinery because if they try to stop him, he'll blow up the ship and kill everybody inside. Which, you know, will happen anyway if it crashes into the oil refinery. So I don't know why nobody tries to stop him anyway. They just fly ahead to save civilians. Luckily Rocket Reds #1-...I don't know, 53 (minus #7) save the day! I guess they use their Techno-Empathy to shut down Rocket Red #7's eyeballs.

Oh yeah, Rocket Red #7 dies here. I mean, not here, exactly, because nobody stops the Manhunters. He dies a little later after the jump scare out of the pile of debris scene.

Max Lord consults his mysterious robotic sounding friend about the Manhunter threat but the dumb thing doesn't know any more than he does. Lord mentions that the Manhunters have gotten close to all of their potential recruits while looking at a monitor with those recruits. One of them is Halo and Geoforce from The Outsiders! Oh why oh why couldn't Halo have become a member?! Halo was my pre-Sailor Moon role model. I think I've just always wanted to be a hot young woman. Oh yeah. Didn't Doctor Jace turn out to be a Manhunter? The story ends with Maxwell Lord's personal assistant shooting him because she was also a Manhunter. How all these people were Manhunters, I'll never know! I suppose it's like when you've been playing a Dungeons & Dragons campaign for four months and suddenly one of the NPCs turns out to be a polymorphed dragon and you're all, "Holy shit! What a twist! This DM is devious!" But in reality, the DM only thought up the twist thirty minutes before that night's campaign. It's pretty much exactly like that. Every writer at DC must have gotten a memo from editorial that read: "One of your characters needs to be a Manhunter. It doesn't matter which one but it would be a lot more exciting if they were an important part of the team!" And Keith Giffen and J.M. DeMatties read their memo, shrugged, and concluded they were only willing to rid themselves of Max Lord's secretary and the stupid, replaceable Rocket Red. A second short story finishes up this issue. It's about Jack-o-lantern of the now defunct Global Guardians being wooed by Bialian Rumaan Harjavti. He wants a super group of terrorists to threaten the Western world with. I guess they'll become Bialya's version of Qurac's Jihad. If it ever comes together, of course. Jack-o-Lantern would just be using Rumaan's money and support to get a new global team together. Probably. Justice League International #9 Rating: B. Did you know China has a university called the China University of Mining and Technology? That acronym is so close to being disgusting! Some translator should point it out so they can come up with a synonym for "mining" that begins with an "n" so they can sell a ton of school merch to the West.