#I've read comics where he takes care of everyone and stands up for the kids against bruce

[beeceit]

"If you don't portray Bruce as an abusive parent then you actually don't read comics and are willfully ignorant and an apologizer and-"

dude, I just don't like it when the guy who was probably on my baby clothes hits his kids and I don't think that's really an extreme opinion to have

[autisticrosewilson]

Hello to the one blog I've been loving to read for the past few days :) <3

Just wanted to add a little something that I started thinking abt after reading a few of your really cool posts, I think we should also discuss abt how Bruce's argument abt killing (with Jay) are often framed with "you're not the judge, jury & the executioner" which is really telling of who he thinks can exersise this legitimately? ? ?

I think it'd be constructive to actually properly discuss this aspect of Bruce's philosophy too. Plus, we get more nuanced Bruce characterisation. (Also keeping in mind uh... comic book propaganda of the writers and DC themselves)

YES ABSOLUTELY! Like what if someone is given a death sentence by a court of law? Does Bruce still care? I'm sure most writers would tell you no because Bruce has become a cop allegory. He's a violent enforcer of the law, and he seeks to uphold the law. Which is a recent switch! Batman comics used to be more radical, but now they're being written by old white men. So it's another one of those things where you can ignore it for your PERSONAL INTERPRETATION but you can't say that it's not A Thing because it's been like this for at least a decade.

His argument would likely be that everyone deserves a fair trial, that everyone has the right to be seen in court. Something which I do think Jason would agree with because when he's being written well he's not just shooting petty criminals! Jason's stance comes in with the big players, the disgustingly rich or well connected upper class who get away with murder. This has been true since the Garzonas case, the whole point was that Felipe was virtually immune to the law, and Jason couldn't allow that.

I think what it comes down to is whether they believe in reformative justice or punitive Justice, and I can most assuredly say that Batman believes in the latter. You can argue that Bruce is an advocate of prison reform but we don't really have evidence of that. He considers himself a punishment for criminals, he considers himself an equalizer but that's not true because he just delivers criminals into a system that is fundamentally corrupt and unfair. Do you actually think a trial in GOTHAM of all places is going to look at a rich man vs a petty crook the same way? That rarely happens even in real life.

And I don't think that Bruce does what he does out of inherent malice. Bruce is a deeply empathetic person, the core of Bruce Wayne is that he cares. But that's not enough, Bruce was allowed to grow up sheltered and it gave him an intrinsic idealism. He only has a Birdseye view of what the common people go through, that is not enough to stand there and say that he understands . Because he doesn't. He literally can't. And I think this bias, certainly one projected by the writers but that's another issue, comes through the most with Jason and Steph.

As far back as Jason's Robin era - widely regarded as Bruce's peak of being a good dad - he still makes some pretty big mistakes. Because he finds this homeless kid whose family has been ripped apart by the corrupted systems, who has actively experienced the worst Gotham has to offer, and he comes to the conclusion that if he doesn't take Jason home Jason will inevitably become a criminal even after Jason explicitly says he doesn't like stealing. So he takes Jason in but he makes that position as his son synonymous with Robin. And this is where we have to talk about meta because Jason is intrinsically tied to meta narratives. I'm not sure if you saw my other posts about Robin, as a concept, but I'll summarize here.

Child sidekicks are fine, in early comics. When things were campy light hearted whodunnit mysteries with a few action sequences, when you always knew that the child hero would come out unscathed, would always live till the next issue. And so when Bruce makes Jason Robin you have this veil of suspension of disbelief. But Jason's era is where you start seeing these kids' storylines get worse. More gruesome, more violent, more cruel. They start really testing the limit of Bruce's morality.

Batman: The Cult - Robin Jason has to crawl through a pile of dead bodies and while Bruce is having a mental break this MAYBE 14 year old is trying to get them out. The Diplomats Son - Jason watches a rapist be let go, because he's powerful and his dad has money. He sees exactly the kind of damage it does to the victims, he's the one who finds Gloria Stanson. A Death in the Family - Jason is murdered. Tortured and murdered and betrayed. He's dead and he was always intended to STAY dead. And all throughout Tim's run and then into Steph's the writers retroactively change everything about who Jason was because it has to be HIS fault, because if it's not Jason's fault then it might be Bruce's. Because how can audiences see Bruce as just and good for taking in new kids after what happened to the last one?

The suspension of disbelief shatters. Because now Jason is back and he's angry. Because maybe we as readers know that Tim, and Steph, and Damian need to be Robin because Robin makes money with young readers. But you know who doesn't know that? Jason, who no doubt assumed that his survival depended on being Robin. Who was sold out because he was Robin. Who was badmouthed and disgraced the entire time he was gone by people he loved and trusted. Jason doesn't know that he's in a comic book, but I argue he knows he's in a Batman story.

If not from his first appearance then definitely in recent ones. What can you do besides lay down and forgive and keep coming back when you know that the universe revolves around one man? How do you get rid of the terror and anger at realizing that you can never leave, that no matter how much he hurts you the universe will bend itself in half so that he is still just and right? When you realize that the love that has defined you is a disease rooted so deeply that to rip it out would be to kill yourself, that you can't even stay dead because Bruce does not want you to be.

And they couldn't even stick to Jason being the problem! Because then Steph dies. And all I could think was "Of course she did. She's an East End girl whose been compared to Jason constantly. Or a version of him. Of course she would be tortured to death trying to get Bruce's approval." Here we are, history has literally repeated itself, and...Tim is Robin again. Why? Because this is a comic book, and Batman needs Robin.

But what do you think everyone in-universe thinks? What do you think that looks like? How can you possibly still call Bruce a good parent under these circumstances? Bruce calls Robin a blessing, a gift, a necessity. He relies on Robin, physically to watch his back and emotionally to keep him in line. He trains them, he molds them, he loves them.

But sometimes love just isn't enough and the good Robin does shouldn't negate the harm they get in the process. Robin then becomes this horrible force of change, you get it and you know that this has doomed you, one way or another. Because Bruce believes that suffering is noble, that pain can reform people. It's baked into his character. Even if he doesn't intend to hurt his kids, it's not like we haven't seen him justify it to himself and others. "I love you, I did this for your own good, I thought I could help you, it was your fault I did that, it won't happen again, I lost control of myself but only this once, we can be a family again if you just come home." It reads an awful lot like an abuser trying to convince you or himself that he's not in the wrong.

This was longer than I intended it to be, but I guess my main point is that Bruce and Batman can't ever be fully separated. Something that I think his relationship with Cass shows us he's aware of but chooses to ignore. We know that Batman is dangerous, that he wouldn't hesitate to hurt his kids, we saw that with Zurr-Batman (WHO BRUCE ADMITTED WAS A FACET OF HIMSELF YOU CAN'T SAY IT WASN'T HIM BECAUSE HE HIMSELF SAID THAT IT WAS). So why try and act like it's this impossible out of character thing for Bruce to be harmful? For his kids to feel angry and hurt about his actions or for their feelings to be as or more valid than Bruce's. Batman has and will hurt his kids and Bruce will try to rationalize it all away because he loves them, he would never want to hurt them. And the narrative will tell us that Bruce is right, that this is good and fair and just, that Bruce's perspective is the correct one, that his kids deserve this, because this is a comic book and outrage sells. Or they'll retcon it and pretend it never happened. Or they'll just never bring it up again. Or Bruce will be forgiven regardless just to hammer home how good and right he is.

Because this is a comic book about Batman, and Batman is a hero, he is our protagonist, and so he is reliable and we should never doubt him, or call him out, or be mad at him. Naturally.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hi! Can you write a Morpheus x child reader (like father daughter) where the reader is a dream that he was working on when he was captured and never finished and she was brought to life as a baby and grows up in the dreaming as it’s collapsing with Lucian as their care-taker/parent figure/teacher and everyone is just like wtf because dreams arnt supposed to age and are created as adults that already know everything they need to know but the reader doesn’t and needs to be taught manually.when dreams comes back he’s presented with a pre-teen reader and after his personal wtf moment he acknowledges the reader as a unique dream and takes them under his wing and basically becomes their dad and presents them to his siblings as his child and everyone is just like *niece acquired* even Lucifer has a soft spot for them and makes sure they know that their disdain for Morpheus doesn’t extend to them.sorry it so long lol I had this idea for a while but I can’t write so I hand it off to you.

Birthday Girl

Dream of the Endless & Dream!Reader

Summary: Hooray! It's your 6th Birthday! It's a costume party where all your classmates are invited, and, boy, are their parents are sure freaked out about your aunts and uncles.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: THIS IS A WHOLESOME FIC READER IS DREAM'S CHILD MISS ME WITH THAT BULLSHIT, Fem!reader, Endless Family Chaos™, Lucifer my beloved, Papa Bear!Dream, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: NGL this req kinda stumped me. it's a pretty tall order but i think i thought of something good enough to make what you wanted nonnie! ... or at least i hope so, since you wanted a pre-teen and I gave you a barely out of diapers kid lol ALSO you referred to the librarian as Lucien (well lucian), so it leads me to believe you had The Sandman Comics in mind but I have not read a page from the comics, and so i'm just going to fashion this to the show, ok? i did try to add more of the endless siblings though Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9

"Papa," she mutters as she hangs on Dream's raised arm. "Yes, my heart?" he mutters, swinging the dangling child absentmindedly as he read his book while standing in the middle of the library. "Where do babies come from?" Dream turns to the wide eyes looking up at him. "Lucienne told me it's when an egg and a sperm meet, so does that mean you're a chicken?" "No." "Am I a chicken?" "You are a dream. My dream." "But you're Dream, papa." "Yes, I am."

"Oh wow," one of the parents who took the liberty to dress up as a really bad Dracula noted, "this is a gnarly getup. The wings look so real-"

Lucifer grabs the man's hand before he could touch her wing, "do not touch me."

The words were so simple, so plainly stated, and yet the man could not help but shiver. He plays it off with a chuckle as he withdraws his hand, "wow. Uh. Don't tell me. Are you supposed to be a fallen angel or something?"

"The fallen angel," Lucifer corrects.

"Oh," he nods his head, "so like..." he chuckles, "Satan."

"Yes," Lucifer grins softly, "precisely."

There was something so eerie about the smile of her face that the man could not bare to be around her any further. A shiver runs down his spine. Morningstar's grin widens as he walks away and when she hears a squeal.

"AUNTIE LUCI!" you run up to the fearsome being, giggles melting her very being into nothing but fluff.

"My dear dream!" Lucifer bends down to catch you in her arms as you jump to embrace her form.

"I've missed you so much!" you exclaim against her neck, little arms wrapping around her. Your voice is soft when you mutter, "I wanted to go to you but papa says hell is no place for a dream like me."

"Well," Lucifer pulls away, "perhaps I could steal you away from your-"

"Watch yourself, Lightbringer," Dream's voice echos in the WcDonalts, making the lights in the fast food chain flicker, and all the present parents survey the room in concern.

"Papa!" you turn to Dream and move in Lucifer's arms to go to him.

Dream raises his hands to get you, but Lucifer does not allow it. She greedily keeps you in her arms, "I was only telling my niece that I would bring her to my realm if her father holds her back."

"That was not the term you used," Dream narrows his eyes.

"And she is not your niece," Death speaks, earning your attention, "not really."

"AUNTIE!" you squeal, more eager to leave Lucifer's arms than ever. She has no choice but to drop you as you run up to your Aunt Death and seal her legs in a tight hug.

Death chuckles, crouching down, stroking your cheeks with the gentlest of touches, "hello, my love. How have you been?"

"I've been doing maths... it's horrible."

Death chuckles as she finally realizes, "are you dressed as the grim reaper?"

Death turns to her little brother, who shakes his head and raises her hands, "I expressed the impudence of it all, but she adamantly insisted."

"Didi told me about how cool the grim reaper is!" you bounced on your feet.

"Oh," Death releasing a breath, understanding, "did they now?" She bends down to meet you face to face, "do you know that the true grim reaper is actually your Auntie Death?"

Your face contorts, "you?"

She nods.

"But you're not cool, Auntie," you innocently say as you push her hair back.

Lucifer snots, suddenly glad to have not left for some WcBorgers just yet.

As Death's jaw hangs low, Dream could not say share a word of comfort, for suddenly, a group of children begin to cry. These were the group of children that were not accompanied by their parents and Dream had sworn to keep an eye on. Yet they were now being terrorized by Didi themselves.

Dream is appalled by the shreiking, and acts quickly to put a stop to it, giving Death a knowing look.

"How about a burger, child," Lucifer calls, making you squeal and run to her.

On his way, Dream grabs Delirium, who was talking to her reflection on the window. It takes a moment for her to speak, "oh! HeLlo bRothEr!"

"I need you to make the children stop crying."

"Well, h0w do i Do tHat?"

Dream and Delirium are upon them.

"Dream, Delirium," Didi smiles, "come for your cry babies?"

"De$ire!" Delirium says, "i d1d noT reaLize you W3re here."

Dream peers down at the crying children and turns to his sister, "how about some bubbles?"

"BuBBles?" Delirium says, manifesting bubbles around her in an instant.

Dream grabs Desire. The latter shoots a look, "what? It's a party, is it not? It's supposed to be fun."

Delirium herself is distracted by the bubbles as the kids crying begins to falter.

"You are to stay away from the children," Dream mutters darkly, making his sibling roll their eyes and pull away from him, "oh, you killjoy. I'm surprised you even let your daughter have a birthday party as WcDonalts. Don't you despise indulging her desires for fast food?"

"It is her day; she is queen."

Desire's lips curve up.

Dream is alerted by another cry ripping in the air. He turns around and finds that Delirium had stolen an ice cream cone from the child.

"She has made you soft, brother," Desire notes.

Dream has no time for either of his siblings as suddenly there is a loud crashing sound followed by an excited squeal.

The parents are immediately clamoring, grabbing the children.

"Destruction!" Death calls, running over to the gaping hole at the wall of WcDonalts right in front of you.

"Auntie!" you mutter, struggling to hold up the enormous teddy bear in barely in your clutch, "Uncle Desie gave me a gift!"

"My, my," Desire crosses their arms, "it seems not even the prodigal is immune to your daughter's charms."

Dream's dark stare at Desire sequentially darkens the room.

Desire raises their hands in surrender as one parent scream something about leaving, which makes Dream drop his guard and turn to the mother who drags a child dressed as a tomato away, "I would not dare to hurt my beloved niece."

"I've had enough of you, Desire," Dream chides, snapping back to them, "I do not want you-"

"PAPA! LOOK!" you grunt, dragging the huge teddy bear over to your father with much difficulty, "UNCLE DESIE GAVE IT TO ME."

Desire is the one who responds, "an exquisite addition to your collection, my dear."

Dream blocks Desire's view of you, "where is Lucienne? You should ask her to hold on to your gift for-"

"NO!" you quip hugging the bear tightly, "it's mine."

"I did not say it was not. I was only saying-"

"My 💖 NiEcE 💖!" Dilirium calls, swooping you up in her arms, "wheN did yOu g3t here!"

You giggle as she swirls you around.

Another child cries from the other side of the room, making Dream release a deep sigh.

"You best attend to the crying broccoli, brother," Desire points, pulling a disgusted face, "I say, what is with their shabby vegetable costumes?"

[applescabs]

I was tagged by my buddy @phoenixfangs so lets goooo

Are you named after anyone? I've heard this story a buncha times so I'm pretty sure my mom got my birth name from a singer. She heard it on tv and liked it a lot, back then it wasn't a very common name in my country. My names as of now are 50/50, Tom didn't come from anyone but Teddie was 100% something I picked up from Teddie p4, hahah.

When was the last time you cried? Last Sunday when I rewatched ep 11 of Bucchigiri. especially during the part where Zabu got the absolute shit beaten out of him. Finn came home right after that and doesn't understand that one of the big points of media is to reach you emotionally, so he thought it was weird that I was crying.

Do you have kids? Nah, but I'd like to some day, if fate allows it.

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Not nearly as much as I used to, because most of my friends are autistic and don't get it most of the time, so I just end up upsetting them whenever I do use it. Being sincere is much more fun anyways.

What sports do you play? None, but I would love to swim or ice skate (or, hell, do some skiing). Neither are really possible for me atm, unfortunately (do you have any idea how expensive skiing is btw. it's crazy). When I was a kid I did gymnastics and streetdance, I also played tennis briefly as a teen, but had to quit due to a lack of people in my age group playing at that club.

What’s the first thing you notice about people? I usually take note of how someone dresses and does their hair. Ever notice how dull most people's clothes are? I like seeing styles that stand out.

What’s your eye colour? Brown, it's not a particularly dark shade, but I wouldn't call it hazel (my dad has hazel eyes though).

Scary movies or happy endings? This ones a little... vague? But I guess if I had to choose... I wouldn't. I don't care about genre or what type of emotional impact it has, as long as it's coherent and entertaining in its own right. (That doesn't mean I don't care about quality btw. I literally just. watch anything and judge it for what it is.)

Any special talents? I'm a boss at packing in groceries quickly and efficiently. Not a talent that everyone possesses, I've learned (sorry Minke <3).

Where were you born? Netherlands babeyyy ✌ North-Holland to be a bit more precise. I lived next to a dyke (not that kind) so I got the real under-sea-level experience. I still live around the area but not in my hometown anymore.

What are your hobbies? Drawing, (writing?), translation and the nuances that come with it, watching movies, tv shows, animes, cartoons, playing video games, reading books, comics and manga. (and then talking about cinematography, parallels, themes, symbolism and the likes) I also collect soda cans (+ the occasional glass bottle), candy packaging, and anime figurines + other merch.

Do you have any pets? My little baby Jody (dog) who I've had since I was 7 years old! She's about to have her sweet 16 on the 23rd (that's in 2 weeks!) she's getting blind and deaf as hell but she's still lively and sweet as ever <3 And my sweet Tiger of course, who's of undetermined age (around 8/9 the vet said) and currently living with my good friend Minke and their 2 other cats (he does not like them) and dog (he is ok with her). He's not with me rn because my mom's bf is allergic, unfortunately.

How tall are you? 1 meter 59. that single centimeter haunts me. I would've also preferred an additional 10 as well.

Favourite subject in school? Art history used to my favourite in high school, and when I was in film school for a brief period I loved film history. I just love anything pertaining to the arts and it's history that involves analysing and comparing it to other time periods, really.

Dream job? I wanna be someone's househusband and make a buncha weird art on the side. Not kidding btw. But if I had to choose a more conventional dream job... it had to be something in the creative or design industry, otherwise I'll probably die of unhappiness.

tageroonie @kuwupikaa @sunflowermews @xrd @isleofair @spunktrumpetsasara and uhhh other mutuals who feel inclined to do this 👉👈

[sly-merlin]

KILLING ME- 14

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre : (fluff)  angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au.

warnings of this chapter : cursing, mention of drugs, character death.

words : ~4k

summary :

“life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”                                  

or            

“ curiousity got the cat hitched”

K.M masterlist

K.M 13

TAGLIST : @kpop-choco @moon-yuta @kawaiiayasan @btm-taeyong @exfolitae @lanadreamie @cheersskznct ​​ @hyuckiesgf ​​ @theworld-accordingtocasey ​​@simplybree

@yiyi4657 @sorrywonwoo @sillywinnergladiator   @minejungwoo @leesalts @mal-nakamoto23 @ro2424 @itlittlefangirl @nctzens-world @bl–ankhaeji @jeaneteflo @nuoyii @bralessmermaid @minhoseyeliner @tyongpoetry @swimmingkpopblog @jkjkseo @orphicmoon @floralescapes

A/N : this chapter marks the celebration of this blog surpassing 600 followers! thank you so much for all the support! also for minor readers, the sfw versions of nsfw chapters are given at the end of the masterlist so check those properly before reading.

•••••••••••••

y/n! Are you sleeping?”

Registering his words, you replied in a groggy voice,“What the fuck do you want?”

“Your phone. I left mine in the medical room. I need to call Mark right now.” with some authority, he spoke.

Whining loudly, you fell back on the bed. It was only due but flailing your arms and legs like a kid in a toy store, you let out a screech full of annoyance, cursing your fate.

Were you really going to babysit him now?

"Have you suddenly lost your hearing? Stop with this sick attitude and open the door."

A puff of air left your nose, your chest moved rhythmically with your stomach and you relaxed your arms beneath your head, eyes fixed at the fan above and ears ringing with his voice. He kept calling you and after a number of shouts, you started humming to distract yourself, afraid that you'd end up helping him otherwise. That was something, naturally, you were not interested in. Last time he had ignored your voice and now nature had presented you with an opportunity to return the favour. Just with a bit less flavour.

"Are you dead?"

"Hmmm. To you, yes I am." Mumbling, you yawned and pushed yourself up to reach your side table and fishing out your earphones from the bottom drawer, you untangled them and fixed them comfortably in your ear, hiding yourself underneath the sheets.

Sonata no.14 instantly transported you away from the noise and the stress that was your unwanted husband, yuta. The smile playing on your lips widened as you realised that you were his only mode of communication at the moment.

But You were going for a nap. Until then, he could wait. And thrash. And cry. Or die.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you rotated the handle of the door to walk outside but your little trip was interrupted when your body collided straight into a wall. No. The obstruction was too soft for a wall.

Opening your eyes properly, you saw yuta standing stiff. Surprised at the sudden appearance, you immediately stumbled back and in hurry, hit your spine on the wooden door. The glare of his eyes, that always spoke more than you could comprehend, coupled with a clenched jaw, was not a very pleasant sight for sure yet you found it harder to dart your own eyes away from him.

"Your phone" he seethed, breathing deeply.

"Huh?" You croaked out.

He raised his brow and in an instant, the previous scenario played like a short movie in your head. Snapping your head down, you regarded his leg with pity. He obviously noticed it immediately but seemed to ignore it and refrained from saying anything. Good for you, you thought.

"Are you deaf?"

Your furrowed brows met his eyes and with a roll of his own, he picked up his finger to force his demand but you managed to walk back inside your room before he could've done that.

Your back faced him as you contemplated your options while slowly stretching your arm to reach for your phone on the other side of the bed.

should you even be giving him your phone?

You had more trust in Taeyong than the man you shared a roof with so there was no way you were doing that.

Unbeknownst to you, yuta was watching your movements intently and the way you bobbed your head, he knew you were scheming something so he decided to be polite for a moment. Only until you were needed. Or your phone was needed.

Once the phone was in your hand, another thought crossed your mind.

"Wait. Where is the house phone?" Crossing your arms, you asked him slyly, already knowing the answer

"You fucking never got it installed. It's still in its stupid package" he seemed rather impatient.

"And you could've called reception through the door telecom. He would have phoned Mark for you. These rich apartments certainly have more hospitality tha-

"I CAN'T GO AROUND DISTRIBUTING AN UNDERGROUND CRIMINAL'S CONTACT NUMBER TO EVERYONE"

He inhaled and exhaled and you just watched until he opened his eyes again, hand reaching out to you.

"Chill. I've every right to be sceptic especially when you are the one asking for it."

Finding Mark's number on your phone, you called him.

Yuta's hand threaded through his rough hair as he noticed what you were trying to do.

"Hey mark!" Your chirpy voice resounded in the room and yuta was sure this was some different spirit speaking. You sounded too bubbly for the way you were investigating him just a second ago.

"Yes yes. His phone exactly.i don't trust him enough to hand over my phone so that's why I'm calling you myself. Just hurry up if you can or you might have to clean up a dead body in the next few hours."

With that you cut the phone. Without meeting yuta's gaze and resting your hand on the handle, you mumbled,

"He'll be here in an hour."

You were about to close the door when he stopped it with the palm of his hand, alerting you with the force.

"Tell him to get some food too."

And limping, he retired back, to the couches.

Sighing, you messaged mark. Had it been for something else, you'd have ignored but your own stomach had signalled you that it needed some good food so you chose not to fight against your own body.

Now, only the taste of the food could decide how many days you were going to tolerate that barbaric human.

"Are you still going to that stupid internship?" Johnny hesitantly murmured from your desk chair while taking big bites from the plate.

"It's not stupid please! I’m just waiting for them to actually pay attention to my awesome capabilities so they can transfer me to the main branch. This is not bad either but”, you stopped to lick your forefinger and tasting the sauce, continued, “but I really wanna go into the criminal unit. That’s where the actual fun is. As long as i’m being paid decently, i’ll suffer with the stupid research work here.”

“With the tongue as sharp as yours, I think you should be getting ready for a demotion instead” he laughed, showing you his fake bunny teeth in the most annoying and childish way.

“Ha ha ha ha. Some well wisher you are! Thank you so much for looking out for me but I'll be fine. Who knows the gatekeeper’s pay package is more than me. So it’d be a win-win in that case too I guess?” when you did a drum roll with your chopsticks to stress upon your point, he laughed harder.

"So being broke is the new black?" Rolling his eyes, he dragged out, "I swear you kids don't know how this world works."

"And you, grandpa of the century, knows?"

"I'm aware of what I need for my survival and from what I've learnt, you can either take risks or look for job security. In your case, " he fake coughed, "where the proportions of risk taking have already exceeded the acceptable limit, a job security is the best and safest option to choose."

"And that would justify my greed and desire to work for the biggest company of this city."

"Kun. The security you need and the independence you seek would be given by kun. Chois are hmm how to say? Cheap? Yeh cheap. They have no work ethics. "

"Have you worked with them, johnny?"

"No. I'm ju-

"Then was your ex a choi?" You saw his eyes comically and cutely widening at your remark.

"No. My ex wasn't a choi and that's not what I'm saying and you know that."

"Oh. So your ex wasn't a choi. Then a lee? Kim? Im? Oh my god! Look at your cheeks seo!" You dragged out. He shook his head as you kept wiggling your brows at him.

"She was a kim but that doesn't mean I would hate all kims dude. That's baseless and stop ignoring the topic. I want you to apply in Kuns. It's the best option. Do it as soon as you-

"Yeah yeah we'll see about that. First take that bitch back. I can't even nap in his presence. "

"Umm. Yeah. You gotta tolerate him. And besides he's injured. Injured yuta is like a gun without a bullet. He's gonna shout for a day or two and then peace out. He'll be sleeping and reading in his room and you won't even know if he's alive or not."

"Now that's bullshit. What is he going to do here anyway? I hope he can hop himself on one leg because even if the sun rises from the north, I am not going to do a single task for him. He can die hungry , for all I care.”

“Do you think you can endure him for some tasty dinners?”

Clicking your tongue, you quipped, “Do you really think you can buy me with a few homemade meals?”

Day 1

Yes. you were sold. The moment the tasty noodles had melted in your mouth, you knew you had no dignity. And you were indeed ashamed of yourself.

Earlier, Renjun had called you to inform you that he had delivered the food and medicines for yuta and had left your dinner box but he had failed to mention the special and endearing note that was pasted on the glass box. In the curvy letters, it read bitchy piglet and you swore the only person you’d be killing before yuta would be jaehyun. But you were going to use jaehyun to build up your tolerance instead.

When you went out to clean your dishes, he was playing some game on his phone, excitement evident from the way he was laughing every other second. Maybe if he remained occupied, he would not be so insufferable.

Day 3

"Oyii! Oyii!"

No. You were wrong. He was very very much insufferable.

At midnight, his voice echoed, disturbing your sleep. You cursed at the cool atmosphere that had prevented you from using the air con which otherwise would have blocked his annoying screeches. But it seemed like bad luck wanted to change its name to y/n instead. With your name being called like a broken record, it was a fight between you and him that you were not going to lose. Shuffling to your side, you covered your ears with the other pillow and tried to drown out the annoyingly demanding and hoarse voice. There was no way you were giving him the satisfaction of having any power over you. He could cry for all he liked!

“What the fuck do you want at this hour?”

Attempting a glare at him through sleepy lids, you spewed with irritation. Unlike you, he was very much awake, breathing with the sole purpose of making you question your whole existence.

“Pillow” scratching his non-existent beard, he mumbled.

Your nostrils flared and jaw clenched at such inconvenient command.

“You summoned me for a pillow? A pillow that can normally be found on a person’s bed? Can you please rectify your demand or did I just simply hear something wrong?”

The opened curtains and the moonlight that drenched the room was the only source that illuminated his face for you and even with drooping eyes, you could see how serious he was and yet you couldn't hold your tongue back because he simply deserved every shit you bestowed him with.

“Turn the lights on and count the pillows on my bed! And when you are done, get me some pillows from your room.” he simply stated.

“Why should i give you my pillow? I need them!”

“Because I don't use a pillow and I need it asap!”

“Then why do you suddenly need one? To disturb my sleep? Oh that makes sense.” and suddenly, your eyes had synced with your body to side with your fight mode.

“I need them for elevating my leg. The bandage is too tight and it’s not comfortable.”

“Then why don't you walk out of the room and get some cushions for yourself!” you raised your volume.

“Because my leg is in pain and i’m unable to get up? What makes you think I'm dying to see your ugly face at this time of the night. I dont wanna have nightmares of you as well but i can't help it ok!”

“you should have kept them near you. And who are you calling ugly hmm? You poop fac-

“Okay scream for all you want! But get me a pillow when your battery dies down!”

“What the fuck d- are you covering your ears? Wow ways to be generous!”

Stomping your foot, you left the room to get the hardest cushion on the couch.

“Here! Next time call Mark if you want anything. Don’t raise your voice ever again to call me because unlike you, i have work in the morning and hence I need some sleep..”

Just when you were about to leave after shoving the cushion in his hand, he spoke up again,

“This is damn hard! I asked for your pillow specifically and not th- AHH!”

A scream left him as you harshly removed the support , leaving his leg to painfully meet the mattress.

“How about you fix your attitude before fixing your leg?” suggesting, you dropped the cushion on the floor and left.

He didn't call you after that. Nor that you cared. However, the sleep in your eyes somehow vanished. Dancing on your sides didn’t help. Neither did drinking a glass of water. So, with a groan, you listened to your conscience and picked up your extra pillow that was sadly too perfect for your enemy.

Padding to his room, you tried your best to scrutinise and hearing his heavy snores, you placed the pillow right under his thigh and the cushion under his calf. Scoffing at his sleeping figure, you internally groaned to remind yourself that you hadn't done it for him. It was just a debt. For the blanket he had once covered you with. Nothing more and nothing less.

Day 5

You just wanted him out of your hair. He was just being a load on your head. At first, only the work was kicking your ass, then jungwoo was kicking you like a punching bag for an hour straight and adding to your distress was yuta.

"I'm not your maid! Stop piling up the dishes for me. I've had enough mercy on you. From today onwards, get a cleaner for yourself or buy disposable cutlery. I'm not going to clean after you!"

With a roll of his eyes, he had ignored you.

And so did you. Pasting a warning note on the sink tap, you had left for the library with a dying hope that maybe the kitchen would be spotless on your arrival or you'd be dialing some numbers in the evening.

For someone who despised the solemn atmosphere of libraries, you had successfully spent 11 hours in the said hellish room. It was 11 p.m and you wanted to sleep, more than anything but here you were, waiting for yugyeom so he'd just pick you up for a good drinking session that you were dying to have.

Fortunately, you weren't the only one who had missed living these past days. Everyone, for different reasons, was suffering so you felt a little less bad for yourself even though you knew your troubles were far more grave than their academic burdens.

"Wake up shorts" someone whispered in your ear. Squirming on your seat, you whipped your head in your sleepy state and found jungkook caressing your head, goofily smiling at you.

"I thought you wanted to hang out till the next morning" air quoting the last words, he picked up your bag.

"Yeah. Let's go. I'm all ready for a night full of vodkas." You yawned out.

"Definitely. No. You are going home. We can have a small get together me and yuggy are done with our final project." He dragged you out into the parking lot.

" I feel like it's been years since we got drunk together. You are never here anymore!" You whined at him, complaining your heart out.

"I will be. Soon. Then we can celebrate your little choi job as well."

"Oh please. Don't even mention it. If I had penny for every time they rolled their eyes at me, I'd be richer than your parents kook." You huffed out and as his gentle laugh surrounded you, you closed your eyes resting your back against the seat, expecting to be up by the time he'd park.

But the next day, you woke up tangled in the sheets of your bed, unaware of the events of the previous night.

When you had warned yuta about the dirty dishes, you hadn't expected him to fill the corners of the kitchen with disposable containers. It looked like you had missed a whole drama while sleeping in the library. The kitchen was shining except for the new utensils. But as long as you were not babysitting him, you were fine with anything. You didn't want to jinx your relief, however, you were glad you would be able to get some work done. finally.

You had spoken too early for your own good. Just when you sat down to write your paper, passionate and enthusiastic howls of that man pierced through your earphones and once again, you opened the window and hopped outside, in the balcony, ready to drown him out. Sipping on your lemonade, you gaped at the scenery the not so distant traffic provided you with and somehow, your thoughts wandered to the only person these horns reminded you of. Johnny.

What are you doing? Your fingers hovered over the text but once again, you deleted the message, declaring it to be too childish for someone as mature as him. Maybe you were just being silly. Maybe you were not. But who was going to put a stamp on your maybe?

Tears pricked your eyes as the harsh words of your senior thundered in the room. He kept shouting and you had no option than to consume each and every word he directed at you. Even if you were being insulted in front of your twenty other co-workers, staying quiet was the best option, you ascertained. so along with your saliva, you gulped your explanations down your throat.

Howsoever unconscious, you were still in the wrong. There was no excuse as to why you had mailed the wrong bills, apart from the headache that was caused by the person possibly lying on the sofa and watching t.v back home. No matter how much you tried to run away from his existence, he had somehow managed to let himself inside your head.

Glaring at the kid who asked for his turn on the park swing, you pushed yourself a little higher, letting the wind greet your stinging eyes as it hit your face in waves. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you chose to ignore jungwoo for a day as it was the time, you decided, to let all the lessons that the past few months had taught you sink into your mind, to bleed into your soul so you won’t ever be able to deviate from them. Ever.

Only if that was so easy. You knew blaming others for your problems was no solution but trivialising them by not paying heed wasn't a smart move either.

When you reached home, your frustrations had died down. So when yuta simpered and pointed towards your empty container, telling you how he had already finished your supposed dinner, you simply rolled your eyes at him, robbing him of whatever he wanted to achieve by riling you up. Heating up the water, you were about to open the noodles packet when yeong called you.

You stared at the shattered phone screen in disbelief as the endless tears ran down your cheeks. As you verbalised the words to yourself again, your body met the floor with a thud.

Jungkook. Drugs. No more.

Three words had silenced the screeches in your head and your mind busied itself in rejecting what you had heard for it had to be a lie. But what how were you going to ignore the heart wrenching screams that yeong had let out. How were you going to dismiss the truth.

How were you all going to accept it?

••••••••••••••••

next update: Some day between 5-7 June.

[innuendostudios]

Thoughts on: Criterion's Neo-Noir Collection

I have written up all 26 films* in the Criterion Channel's Neo-Noir Collection.

Legend: rw - rewatch; a movie I had seen before going through the collection dnrw - did not rewatch; if a movie met two criteria (a. I had seen it within the last 18 months, b. I actively dislike it) I wrote it up from memory.

* in September, Brick leaves the Criterion Channel and is replaced in the collection with Michael Mann's Thief. May add it to the list when that happens.

Note: These are very "what was on my mind after watching." No effort has been made to avoid spoilers, nor to make the plot clear for anyone who hasn't seen the movies in question. Decide for yourself if that's interesting to you.

Cotton Comes to Harlem I feel utterly unequipped to asses this movie. This and Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song the following year are regularly cited as the progenitors of the blaxploitation genre. (This is arguably unfair, since both were made by Black men and dealt much more substantively with race than the white-directed films that followed them.) Its heroes are a couple of Black cops who are treated with suspicion both by their white colleagues and by the Black community they're meant to police. I'm not 100% clear on whether they're the good guys? I mean, I think they are. But the community's suspicion of them seems, I dunno... well-founded? They are working for The Man. And there's interesting discussion to the had there - is the the problem that the law is carried out by racists, or is the law itself racist? Can Black cops make anything better? But it feels like the film stacks the deck in Gravedigger and Coffin Ed's favor; the local Black church is run by a conman, the Back-to-Africa movement is, itself, a con, and the local Black Power movement is treated as an obstacle. Black cops really are the only force for justice here. Movie portrays Harlem itself as a warm, thriving, cultured community, but the people that make up that community are disloyal and easily fooled. Felt, to me, like the message was "just because they're cops doesn't mean they don't have Black soul," which, nowadays, we would call copaganda. But, then, do I know what I'm talking about? Do I know how much this played into or off of or against stereotypes from 1970? Was this a radical departure I don't have the context to appreciate? Is there substance I'm too white and too many decades removed to pick up on? Am I wildly overthinking this? I dunno. Seems like everyone involved was having a lot of fun, at least. That bit is contagious.

Across 110th Street And here's the other side of the "race film" equation. Another movie set in Harlem with a Black cop pulled between the police, the criminals, and the public, but this time the film is made by white people. I like it both more and less. Pro: this time the difficult position of Black cop who's treated with suspicion by both white cops and Black Harlemites is interrogated. Con: the Black cop has basically no personality other than "honest cop." Pro: the racism of the police force is explicit and systemic, as opposed to comically ineffectual. Con: the movie is shaped around a racist white cop who beats the shit out of Black people but slowly forms a bond with his Black partner. Pro: the Black criminal at the heart of the movie talks openly about how the white world has stacked the deck against him, and he's soulful and relateable. Con: so of course he dies in the end, because the only way privileged people know to sympathetize with minorities is to make them tragic (see also: The Boys in the Band, Philadelphia, and Brokeback Mountain for gay men). Additional con: this time Harlem is portrayed as a hellhole. Barely any of the community is even seen. At least the shot at the end, where the criminal realizes he's going to die and throws the bag of money off a roof and into a playground so the Black kids can pick it up before the cops reclaim it was powerful. But overall... yech. Cotton Comes to Harlem felt like it wasn't for me; this feels like it was 100% for me and I respect it less for that.

The Long Goodbye (rw) The shaggiest dog. Like much Altman, more compelling than good, but very compelling. Raymond Chandler's story is now set in the 1970's, but Philip Marlowe is the same Philip Marlowe of the 1930's. I get the sense there was always something inherently sad about Marlowe. Classic noir always portrayed its detectives as strong-willed men living on the border between the straightlaced world and its seedy underbelly, crossing back and forth freely but belonging to neither. But Chandler stresses the loneliness of it - or, at least, the people who've adapted Chandler do. Marlowe is a decent man in an indecent world, sorting things out, refusing to profit from misery, but unable to set anything truly right. Being a man out of step is here literalized by putting him forty years from the era where he belongs. His hardboiled internal monologue is now the incessant mutterings of the weird guy across the street who never stops smoking. Like I said: compelling! Kael's observation was spot on: everyone in the movie knows more about the mystery than he does, but he's the only one who cares. The mystery is pretty threadbare - Marlowe doesn't detect so much as end up in places and have people explain things to him. But I've seen it two or three times now, and it does linger.

Chinatown (rw) I confess I've always been impressed by Chinatown more than I've liked it. Its story structure is impeccable, its atmosphere is gorgeous, its noirish fatalism is raw and real, its deconstruction of the noir hero is well-observed, and it's full of clever detective tricks (the pocket watches, the tail light, the ruler). I've just never connected with it. Maybe it's a little too perfectly crafted. (I feel similar about Miller's Crossing.) And I've always been ambivalent about the ending. In Towne's original ending, Evelyn shoots Noah Cross dead and get arrested, and neither she nor Jake can tell the truth of why she did it, so she goes to jail for murder and her daughter is in the wind. Polansky proposed the ending that exists now, where Evelyn just dies, Cross wins, and Jake walks away devastated. It communicates the same thing: Jake's attempt to get smart and play all the sides off each other instead of just helping Evelyn escape blows up in his face at the expense of the woman he cares about and any sense of real justice. And it does this more dramatically and efficiently than Towne's original ending. But it also treats Evelyn as narratively disposable, and hands the daughter over to the man who raped Evelyn and murdered her husband. It makes the women suffer more to punch up the ending. But can I honestly say that Towne's ending is the better one? It is thematically equal, dramatically inferior, but would distract me less. Not sure what the calculus comes out to there. Maybe there should be a third option. Anyway! A perfect little contraption. Belongs under a glass dome.

Night Moves (rw) Ah yeah, the good shit. This is my quintessential 70's noir. This is three movies in a row about detectives. Thing is, the classic era wasn't as chockablock with hardboiled detectives as we think; most of those movies starred criminals, cops, and boring dudes seduced to the darkness by a pair of legs. Gumshoes just left the strongest impressions. (The genre is said to begin with Maltese Falcon and end with Touch of Evil, after all.) So when the post-Code 70's decided to pick the genre back up while picking it apart, it makes sense that they went for the 'tecs first. The Long Goodbye dragged the 30's detective into the 70's, and Chinatown went back to the 30's with a 70's sensibility. But Night Moves was about detecting in the Watergate era, and how that changed the archetype. Harry Moseby is the detective so obsessed with finding the truth that he might just ruin his life looking for it, like the straight story will somehow fix everything that's broken, like it'll bring back a murdered teenager and repair his marriage and give him a reason to forgive the woman who fucked him just to distract him from some smuggling. When he's got time to kill, he takes out a little, magnetic chess set and recreates a famous old game, where three knight moves (get it?) would have led to a beautiful checkmate had the player just seen it. He keeps going, self-destructing, because he can't stand the idea that the perfect move is there if he can just find it. And, no matter how much we see it destroy him, we, the audience, want him to keep going; we expect a satisfying resolution to the mystery. That's what we need from a detective picture; one character flat-out compares Harry to Sam Spade. But what if the truth is just... Watergate? Just some prick ruining things for selfish reasons? Nothing grand, nothing satisfying. Nothing could be more noir, or more neo-, than that.

Farewell, My Lovely Sometimes the only thing that makes a noir neo- is that it's in color and all the blood, tits, and racism from the books they're based on get put back in. This second stab at Chandler is competant but not much more than that. Mitchum works as Philip Marlowe, but Chandler's dialogue feels off here, like lines that worked on the page don't work aloud, even though they did when Bogie said them. I'll chalk it up to workmanlike but uninspired direction. (Dang this looks bland so soon after Chinatown.) Moose Malloy is a great character, and perfectly cast. (Wasn't sure at first, but it's true.) Some other interesting cats show up and vanish - the tough brothel madam based on Brenda Allen comes to mind, though she's treated with oddly more disdain than most of the other hoods and is dispatched quicker. In general, the more overt racism and misogyny doesn't seem to do anything except make the movie "edgier" than earlier attempts at the same material, and it reads kinda try-hard. But it mostly holds together. *shrug*

The Killing of a Chinese Bookie (dnrw) Didn't care for this at all. Can't tell if the script was treated as a jumping-off point or if the dialogue is 100% improvised, but it just drags on forever and is never that interesting. Keeps treating us to scenes from the strip club like they're the opera scenes in Amadeus, and, whatever, I don't expect burlesque to be Mozart, but Cosmo keeps saying they're an artful, classy joint, and I keep waiting for the show to be more than cheap, lazy camp. How do you make gratuitious nudity boring? Mind you, none of this is bad as a rule - I love digressions and can enjoy good sleaze, and it's clear the filmmakers care about what they're making. They just did not sell it in a way I wanted to buy. Can't remember what edit I watched; I hope it was the 135 minute one, because I cannot imagine there being a longer edit out there.

The American Friend (dnrw) It's weird that this is Patricia Highsmith, right? That Dennis Hopper is playing Tom Ripley? In a cowboy hat? I gather that Minghella's version wasn't true to the source, but I do love that movie, and this is a long, long way from that. This Mr. Ripley isn't even particularly talented! Anyway, this has one really great sequence, where a regular guy has been coerced by crooks into murdering someone on a train platform, and, when the moment comes to shoot, he doesn't. And what follows is a prolonged sequence of an amateur trying to surreptitiously tail a guy across a train station and onto another train, and all the while you're not sure... is he going to do it? is he going to chicken out? is he going to do it so badly he gets caught? It's hard not to put yourself in the protagonist's shoes, wondering how you would handle the situation, whether you could do it, whether you could act on impulse before your conscience could catch up with you. It drags on a long while and this time it's a good thing. Didn't much like the rest of the movie, it's shapeless and often kind of corny, and the central plot hook is contrived. (It's also very weird that this is the only Wim Wenders I've seen.) But, hey, I got one excellent sequence, not gonna complain.

The Big Sleep Unlike the 1946 film, I can follow the plot of this Big Sleep. But, also unlike the 1946 version, this one isn't any damn fun. Mitchum is back as Marlowe (this is three Marlowes in five years, btw), and this time it's set in the 70's and in England, for some reason. I don't find this offensive, but neither do I see what it accomplishes? Most of the cast is still American. (Hi Jimmy!) Still holds together, but even less well than Farewell, My Lovely. But I do find it interesting that the neo-noir era keeps returning to Chandler while it's pretty much left Hammet behind (inasmuch as someone whose genes are spread wide through the whole genre can be left behind). Spade and the Continental Op, straightshooting tough guys who come out on top in the end, seem antiquated in the (post-)modern era. But Marlowe's goodness being out of sync with the world around him only seems more poignant the further you take him from his own time. Nowadays you can really only do Hammett as pastiche, but I sense that you could still play Chandler straight.

Eyes of Laura Mars The most De Palma movie I've seen not made by De Palma, complete with POV shots, paranormal hoodoo, and fixation with sex, death, and whether images of such are art or exploitation (or both). Laura Mars takes photographs of naked women in violent tableux, and has gotten quite famous doing so, but is it damaging to women? The movie has more than a superficial engagement with this topic, but only slightly more than superficial. Kept imagining a movie that is about 30% less serial killer story and 30% more art conversations. (But, then, I have an art degree and have never murdered anyone, so.) Like, museums are full of Biblical paintings full of nude women and slaughter, sometimes both at once, and they're called masterpieces. Most all of them were painted by men on commission from other men. Now Laura Mars makes similar images in modern trappings, and has models made of flesh and blood rather than paint, and it's scandalous? Why is it only controversial once women are getting paid for it? On the other hand, is this just the master's tools? Is she subverting or challenging the male gaze, or just profiting off of it? Or is a woman profiting off of it, itself, a subversion? Is it subversive enough to account for how it commodifies female bodies? These questions are pretty clearly relevant to the movie itself, and the movies in general, especially after the fall of the Hays Code when people were really unrestrained with the blood and boobies. And, heck, the lead is played by the star of Bonnie and Clyde! All this is to say: I wish the movie were as interested in these questions as I am. What's there is a mildly diverting B-picture. There's one great bit where Laura's seeing through the killer's eyes (that's the hook, she gets visions from the murderer's POV; no, this is never explained) and he's RIGHT BEHIND HER, so there's a chase where she charges across an empty room only able to see her own fleeing self from ten feet behind. That was pretty great! And her first kiss with the detective (because you could see a mile away that the detective and the woman he's supposed to protect are gonna fall in love) is immediately followed by the two freaking out about how nonsensical it is for them to fall in love with each other, because she's literally mourning multiple deaths and he's being wildly unprofessional, and then they go back to making out. That bit was great, too. The rest... enh.

The Onion Field What starts off as a seemingly not-that-noirish cops-vs-crooks procedural turns into an agonizingly protracted look at the legal system, with the ultimate argument that the very idea of the law ever resulting in justice is a lie. Hoo! I have to say, I'm impressed. There's a scene where a lawyer - whom I'm not sure is even named, he's like the seventh of thirteen we've met - literally quits the law over how long this court case about two guys shooting a cop has taken. He says the cop who was murdered has been forgotten, his partner has never gotten to move on because the case has lasted eight years, nothing has been accomplished, and they should let the two criminals walk and jail all the judges and lawyers instead. It's awesome! The script is loaded with digressions and unnecessary details, just the way I like it. Can't say I'm impressed with the execution. Nothing is wrong, exactly, but the performances all seem a tad melodramatic or a tad uninspired. Camerawork is, again, purely functional. It's no masterpiece. But that second half worked for me. (And it's Ted Danson's first movie! He did great.)

Body Heat (rw) Let's say up front that this is a handsomely-made movie. Probably the best looking thing on the list since Night Moves. Nothing I've seen better captures the swelter of an East Coast heatwave, or the lusty feeling of being too hot to bang and going at it regardless. Kathleen Turner sells the hell out of a femme fatale. There are a lot of good lines and good performances (Ted Danson is back and having the time of his life). I want to get all that out of the way, because this is a movie heavily modeled after Double Indemnity, and I wanted to discuss its merits before I get into why inviting that comparison doesn't help the movie out. In a lot of ways, it's the same rules as the Robert Mitchum Marlowe movies - do Double Indemnity but amp up the sex and violence. And, to a degree it works. (At least, the sex does, dunno that Double Indemnity was crying out for explosions.) But the plot is amped as well, and gets downright silly. Yeah, Mrs. Dietrichson seduces Walter Neff so he'll off her husband, but Neff clocks that pretty early and goes along with it anyway. Everything beyond that is two people keeping too big a secret and slowly turning on each other. But here? For the twists to work Matty has to be, from frame one, playing four-dimensional chess on the order of Senator Palpatine, and its about as plausible. (Exactly how did she know, after she rebuffed Ned, he would figure out her local bar and go looking for her at the exact hour she was there?) It's already kind of weird to be using the spider woman trope in 1981, but to make her MORE sexually conniving and mercenary than she was in the 40's is... not great. As lurid trash, it's pretty fun for a while, but some noir stuff can't just be updated, it needs to be subverted or it doesn't justify its existence.

Blow Out Brian De Palma has two categories of movie: he's got his mainstream, director-for-hire fare, where his voice is either reigned in or indulged in isolated sequences that don't always jive with the rest fo the film, and then there's his Brian De Palma movies. My mistake, it seems, is having seen several for-hires from throughout his career - The Untouchables (fine enough), Carlito's Way (ditto, but less), Mission: Impossible (enh) - but had only seen De Palma-ass movies from his late period (Femme Fatale and The Black Dahlia, both of which I think are garbage). All this to say: Blow Out was my first classic-era De Palma, and holy fucking shit dudes. This was (with caveats) my absolute and entire jam. I said I could enjoy good sleaze, and this is good friggin' sleaze. (Though far short of De Palma at his sleaziest, mercifully.) The splitscreens, the diopter shots, the canted angles, how does he make so many shlocky things work?! John Travolta's sound tech goes out to get fresh wind fx for the movie he's working on, and we get this wonderful sequence of visuals following sounds as he turns his attention and his microphone to various noises - a couple on a walk, a frog, an owl, a buzzing street lamp. Later, as he listens back to the footage, the same sequence plays again, but this time from his POV; we're seeing his memory as guided by the same sequence of sounds, now recreated with different shots, as he moves his pencil in the air mimicking the microphone. When he mixes and edits sounds, we hear the literal soundtrack of the movie we are watching get mixed and edited by the person on screen. And as he tries to unravel a murder mystery, he uses what's at hand: magnetic tape, flatbed editors, an animation camera to turn still photos from the crime scene into a film and sync it with the audio he recorded; it's forensics using only the tools of the editing room. As someone who's spent some time in college editing rooms, this is a hoot and a half. Loses a bit of steam as it goes on and the film nerd stuff gives way to a more traditional thriller, but rallies for a sound-tech-centered final setpiece, which steadily builds to such madcap heights you can feel the air thinning, before oddly cutting its own tension and then trying to build it back up again. It doesn't work as well the second time. But then, that shot right after the climax? Damn. Conflicted on how the movie treats the female lead. I get why feminist film theorists are so divided on De Palma. His stuff is full of things feminists (rightly) criticize, full of women getting naked when they're not getting stabbed, but he also clearly finds women fascinating and has them do empowered and unexpected things, and there are many feminist reads of his movies. Call it a mixed bag. But even when he's doing tropey shit, he explores the tropes in unexpected ways. Definitely the best movie so far that I hadn't already seen.

Cutter's Way (rw) Alex Cutter is pitched to us as an obnoxious-but-sympathetic son of a bitch, and, you know, two out of three ain't bad. Watched this during my 2020 neo-noir kick and considered skipping it this time because I really didn't enjoy it. Found it a little more compelling this go around, while being reminded of why my feelings were room temp before. Thematically, I'm onboard: it's about a guy, Cutter, getting it in his head that he's found a murderer and needs to bring him to justice, and his friend, Bone, who intermittently helps him because he feels bad that Cutter lost his arm, leg, and eye in Nam and he also feels guilty for being in love with Cutter's wife. The question of whether the guy they're trying to bring down actually did it is intentionally undefined, and arguably unimportant; they've got personal reasons to see this through. Postmodern and noirish, fixated with the inability to ever fully know the truth of anything, but starring people so broken by society that they're desperate for certainty. (Pretty obvious parallels to Vietnam.) Cutter's a drunk and kind of an asshole, but understandably so. Bone's shiftlessness is the other response to a lack of meaning in the world, to the point where making a decision, any decision, feels like character growth, even if it's maybe killing a guy whose guilt is entirely theoretical. So, yeah, I'm down with all of this! A- in outline form. It's just that Cutter is so uninterestingly unpleasant and no one else on screen is compelling enough to make up for it. His drunken windups are tedious and his sanctimonious speeches about what the war was like are, well, true and accurate but also obviously manipulative. It's two hours with two miserable people, and I think Cutter's constant chatter is supposed to be the comic relief but it's a little too accurate to drunken rambling, which isn't funny if you're not also drunk. He's just tedious, irritating, and periodically racist. Pass.

Blood Simple (rw) I'm pretty cool on the Coens - there are things I've liked, even loved, in every Coen film I've seen, but I always come away dissatisfied. For a while, I kept going to their movies because I was sure eventually I'd love one without qualification. No Country for Old Men came close, the first two acts being master classes in sustained tension. But then the third act is all about denying closure: the protagonist is murdered offscreen, the villain's motives are never explained, and it ends with an existentialist speech about the unfathomable cruelty of the world. And it just doesn't land for me. The archness of the Coen's dialogue, the fussiness of their set design, the kinda-intimate, kinda-awkward, kinda-funny closeness of the camera's singles, it cannot sell me on a devastating meditation about meaninglessness. It's only ever sold me on the Coens' own cleverness. And that archness, that distancing, has typified every one of their movies I've come close to loving. Which is a long-ass preamble to saying, holy heck, I was not prepared for their very first movie to be the one I'd been looking for! I watched it last year and it remains true on rewatch: Blood Simple works like gangbusters. It's kind of Double Indemnity (again) but played as a comedy of errors, minus the comedy: two people romantically involved feeling their trust unravel after a murder. And I think the first thing that works for me is that utter lack of comedy. It's loaded with the Coens' trademark ironies - mostly dramatic in this case - but it's all played straight. Unlike the usual lead/femme fatale relationship, where distrust brews as the movie goes on, the audience knows the two main characters can trust each other. There are no secret duplicitous motives waiting to be revealed. The audience also know why they don't trust each other. (And it's all communicated wordlessly, btw: a character enters a scene and we know, based on the information that character has, how it looks to them and what suspicions it would arouse, even as we know the truth of it). The second thing that works is, weirdly, that the characters aren't very interesting?! Ray and Abby have almost no characterization. Outside of a general likability, they are blank slates. This is a weakness in most films, but, given the agonizingly long, wordless sequences where they dispose of bodies or hide from gunfire, you're left thinking not "what will Ray/Abby do in this scenario," because Ray and Abby are relatively elemental and undefined, but "what would I do in this scenario?" Which creates an exquisite tension but also, weirdly, creates more empathy than I feel for the Coens' usual cast of personalities. It's supposed to work the other way around! Truly enjoyable throughout but absolutely wonderful in the suspenseful-as-hell climax. Good shit right here.

Body Double The thing about erotic thrillers is everything that matters is in the name. Is it thrilling? Is it erotic? Good; all else is secondary. De Palma set out to make the most lurid, voyeuristic, horny, violent, shocking, steamy movie he could come up with, and its success was not strictly dependent on the lead's acting ability or the verisimilitude of the plot. But what are we, the modern audience, to make of it once 37 years have passed and, by today's standards, the eroticism is quite tame and the twists are no longer shocking? Then we're left with a nonsensical riff on Vertigo, a specularization of women that is very hard to justify, and lead actor made of pulped wood. De Palma's obsessions don't cohere into anything more this time; the bits stolen from Hitchcock aren't repurposed to new ends, it really is just Hitch with more tits and less brains. (I mean, I still haven't seen Vertigo, but I feel 100% confident in that statement.) The diopter shots and rear-projections this time look cheap (literally so, apparently; this had 1/3 the budget of Blow Out). There are some mildly interesting setpieces, but nothing compared to Travolta's auditory reconstructions or car chase where he tries to tail a subway train from street level even if it means driving through a frickin parade like an inverted French Connection, goddamn Blow Out was a good movie! Anyway. Melanie Griffith seems to be having fun, at least. I guess I had a little as well, but it was, at best, diverting, and a real letdown.

The Hit Surprised by how much I enjoyed this one. Terrance Stamp flips on the mob and spends ten years living a life of ease in Spain, waiting for the day they find and kill him. Movie kicks off when they do find him, and what follows is a ramshackle road movie as John Hurt and a young Tim Roth attempt to drive him to Paris so they can shoot him in front of his old boss. Stamp is magnetic. He's spent a decade reading philosophy and seems utterly prepared for death, so he spends the trip humming, philosophizing, and being friendly with his captors when he's not winding them up. It remains unclear to the end whether the discord he sews between Roth and Hurt is part of some larger plan of escape or just for shits and giggles. There's also a decent amount of plot for a movie that's not terribly plot-driven - just about every part of the kidnapping has tiny hitches the kidnappers aren't prepared for, and each has film-long repercussions, drawing the cops closer and somehow sticking Laura del Sol in their backseat. The ongoing questions are when Stamp will die, whether del Sol will die, and whether Roth will be able to pull the trigger. In the end, it's actually a meditation on ethics and mortality, but in a quiet and often funny way. It's not going to go down as one of my new favs, but it was a nice way to spend a couple hours.

Trouble in Mind (dnrw) I fucking hated this movie. It's been many months since I watched it, do I remember what I hated most? Was it the bit where a couple of country bumpkins who've come to the city walk into a diner and Mr. Bumpkin clocks that the one Black guy in the back as obviously a criminal despite never having seen him before? Was it the part where Kris Kristofferson won't stop hounding Mrs. Bumpkin no matter how many times she demands to be left alone, and it's played as romantic because obviously he knows what she needs better than she does? Or is it the part where Mr. Bumpkin reluctantly takes a job from the Obvious Criminal (who is, in fact, a criminal, and the only named Black character in the movie if I remember correctly, draw your own conclusions) and, within a week, has become a full-blown hood, which is exemplified by a lot, like, a lot of queer-coding? The answer to all three questions is yes. It's also fucking boring. Even out-of-drag Divine's performance as the villain can't save it.

Manhunter 'sfine? I've still never seen Silence of the Lambs, nor any of the Hopkins Lecter movies, nor, indeed, any full episode of the show. So the unheimlich others get seeing Brian Cox play Hannibal didn't come into play. Cox does a good job with him, but he's barely there. Shame, cuz he's the most interesting part of the movie. Honestly, there's a lot of interesting stuff that's barely there. Will Graham being a guy who gets into the heads of serial killers is explored well enough, and Mann knows how to direct a police procedural such that it's both contemplative and propulsive. But all the other themes it points at? Will's fear that he understands murderers a little too well? Hannibal trying to nudge him towards becoming one? Whatever dance Hannibal and Tooth Fairy are doing? What Tooth Fairy's deal is, anyway? (Why does he wear fake teeth and bite things? Why is he fixated on the red dragon? Does the bit where he says "Francis is gone forever" mean he has DID?) None of it goes anywhere or amounts to anything. I mean, it's certainly more interesting with this stuff than without, but it has that feel of a book that's been pared of its interesting bits to fit the runtime (or, alternately, pulp that's been sloppily elevated). I still haven't made my mind up on Mann's cold, precise camera work, but at least it gives me something to look at. It's fine! This is fine.

Mona Lisa (rw) Gave this one another shot. Bob Hoskins is wonderful as a hood out of his depth in classy places, quick to anger but just as quick to let anger go (the opening sequence where he's screaming on his ex-wife's doorstep, hurling trash cans at her house, and one minute later thrilled to see his old car, is pretty nice). And Cathy Tyson's working girl is a subtler kind of fascinating, exuding a mixture of coldness and kindness. It's just... this is ultimately a story about how heartbreaking it is when the girl you like is gay, right? It's Weezer's Pink Triangle: The Movie. It's not homophobic, exactly - Simone isn't demonized for being a lesbian - but it's still, like, "man, this straight white guy's pain is so much more interesting than the Black queer sex worker's." And when he's yelling "you woulda done it!" at the end, I can't tell if we're supposed to agree with him. Seems pretty clear that she wouldn'ta done it, at least not without there being some reveal about her character that doesn't happen, but I don't think the ending works if we don't agree with him, so... I'm like 70% sure the movie does Simone dirty there. For the first half, their growing relationship feels genuine and natural, and, honestly, the story being about a real bond that unfortunately means different things to each party could work if it didn't end with a gun and a sock in the jaw. Shape feels jagged as well; what feels like the end of the second act or so turns out to be the climax. And some of the symbolism is... well, ok, Simone gives George money to buy more appropriate clothes for hanging out in high end hotels, and he gets a tan leather jacket and a Hawaiian shirt, and their first proper bonding moment is when she takes him out for actual clothes. For the rest of the movie he is rocking double-breasted suits (not sure I agree with the striped tie, but it was the eighties, whaddya gonna do?). Then, in the second half, she sends him off looking for her old streetwalker friend, and now he looks completely out of place in the strip clubs and bordellos. So far so good. But then they have this run-in where her old pimp pulls a knife and cuts George's arm, so, with his nice shirt torn and it not safe going home (I guess?) he starts wearing the Hawaiian shirt again. So around the time he's starting to realize he doesn't really belong in Simone's world or the lowlife world he came from anymore, he's running around with the classy double-breasted suit jacket over the garish Hawaiian shirt, and, yeah, bit on the nose guys. Anyway, it has good bits, I just feel like a movie that asks me to feel for the guy punching a gay, Black woman in the face needs to work harder to earn it. Bit of wasted talent.

The Bedroom Window Starts well. Man starts an affair with his boss' wife, their first night together she witnesses an attempted murder from his window, she worries going to the police will reveal the affair to her husband, so the man reports her testimony to the cops claiming he's the one who saw it. Young Isabelle Huppert is the perfect woman for a guy to risk his career on a crush over, and Young Steve Guttenberg is the perfect balance of affability and amorality. And it flows great - picks just the right media to res. So then he's talking to the cops, telling them what she told him, and they ask questions he forgot to ask her - was the perp's jacket a blazer or a windbreaker? - and he has to guess. Then he gets called into the police lineup, and one guy matches her description really well, but is it just because he's wearing his red hair the way she described it? He can't be sure, doesn't finger any of them. He finds out the cops were pretty certain about one of the guys, so he follows the one he thinks it was around, looking for more evidence, and another girl is attacked right outside a bar he knows the redhead was at. Now he's certain! But he shows the boss' wife the guy and she's not certain, and she reminds him they don't even know if the guy he followed is the same guy the police suspected! And as he feeds more evidence to the cops, he has to lie more, because he can't exactly say he was tailing the guy around the city. So, I'm all in now. Maybe it's because I'd so recently rewatched Night Moves and Cutter's Way, but this seems like another story about uncertainty. He's really certain about the guy because it fits narratively, and we, the audience, feel the same. But he's not actually a witness, he doesn't have actual evidence, he's fitting bits and pieces together like a conspiracy theorist. He's fixating on what he wants to be true. Sign me up! But then it turns out he's 100% correct about who the killer is but his lies are found out and now the cops think he's the killer and I realize, oh, no, this movie isn't nearly as smart as I thought it was. Egg on my face! What transpires for the remaining half of the runtime is goofy as hell, and someone with shlockier sensibilities could have made a meal of it, but Hanson, despite being a Corman protege, takes this silliness seriously in the all wrong ways. Next!

Homicide (rw? I think I saw most of this on TV one time) Homicide centers around the conflicted loyalties of a Jewish cop. It opens with the Jewish cop and his white gentile partner taking over a case with a Black perp from some Black FBI agents. The media is making a big thing about the racial implications of the mostly white cops chasing down a Black man in a Black neighborhood. And inside of 15 minutes the FBI agent is calling the lead a k*ke and the gentile cop is calling the FBI agent a f****t and there's all kinds of invective for Black people. The film is announcing its intentions out the gate: this movie is about race. But the issue here is David Mamet doesn't care about race as anything other than a dramatic device. He's the Ubisoft of filmmakers, having no coherent perspective on social issues but expecting accolades for even bringing them up. Mamet is Jewish (though lead actor Joe Mantegna definitely is not) but what is his position on the Jewish diaspora? The whole deal is Mantegna gets stuck with a petty homicide case instead of the big one they just pinched from the Feds, where a Jewish candy shop owner gets shot in what looks like a stickup. Her family tries to appeal to his Jewishness to get him to take the case seriously, and, after giving them the brush-off for a long time, finally starts following through out of guilt, finding bits and pieces of what may or may not be a conspiracy, with Zionist gun runners and underground neo-Nazis. But, again: all of these are just dramatic devices. Mantegna's Jewishness (those words will never not sound ridiculous together) has always been a liability for him as a cop (we are told, not shown), and taking the case seriously is a reclamation of identity. The Jews he finds community with sold tommyguns to revolutionaries during the founding of Israel. These Jews end up blackmailing him to get a document from the evidence room. So: what is the film's position on placing stock in one's Jewish identity? What is its position on Israel? What is its opinion on Palestine? Because all three come up! And the answer is: Mamet doesn't care. You can read it a lot of different ways. Someone with more context and more patience than me could probably deduce what the de facto message is, the way Chris Franklin deduced the de facto message of Far Cry V despite the game's efforts not to have one, but I'm not going to. Mantegna's attempt to reconnect with his Jewishness gets his partner killed, gets the guy he was supposed to bring in alive shot dead, gets him possibly permanent injuries, gets him on camera blowing up a store that's a front for white nationalists, and all for nothing because the "clues" he found (pretty much exclusively by coincidence) were unconnected nothings. The problem is either his Jewishness, or his lifelong failure to connect with his Jewishness until late in life. Mamet doesn't give a shit. (Like, Mamet canonically doesn't give a shit: he is on record saying social context is meaningless, characters only exist to serve the plot, and there are no deeper meanings in fiction.) Mamet's ping-pong dialogue is fun, as always, and there are some neat ideas and characters, but it's all in service of a big nothing that needed to be a something to work.

Swoon So much I could talk about, let's keep it to the most interesting bits. Hommes Fatales: a thing about classic noir that it was fascinated by the marginal but had to keep it in the margins. Liberated women, queer-coded killers, Black jazz players, broke thieves; they were the main event, they were what audiences wanted to see, they were what made the movies fun. But the ending always had to reassert straightlaced straight, white, middle-class male society as unshakeable. White supremacist capitalist patriarchy demanded, both ideologically and via the Hays Code, that anyone outside these norms be punished, reformed, or dead by the movie's end. The only way to make them the heroes was to play their deaths for tragedy. It is unsurprising that neo-noir would take the queer-coded villains and make them the protagonists. Implicature: This is the story of Leopold and Loeb, murderers famous for being queer, and what's interesting is how the queerness in the first half exists entirely outside of language. Like, it's kind of amazing for a movie from 1992 to be this gay - we watch Nathan and Dickie kiss, undress, masturbate, fuck; hell, they wear wedding rings when they're alone together. But it's never verbalized. Sex is referred to as "your reward" or "what you wanted" or "best time." Dickie says he's going to have "the girls over," and it turns out "the girls" are a bunch of drag queens, but this is never acknowledged. Nathan at one point lists off a bunch of famous men - Oscar Wild, E.M. Forster, Frederick the Great - but, though the commonality between them is obvious (they were all gay), it's left the the audience to recognize it. When their queerness is finally verbalized in the second half, it's first in the language of pathology - a psychiatrist describing their "perversions" and "misuse" of their "organs" before the court, which has to be cleared of women because it's so inappropriate - and then with slurs from the man who murders Dickie in jail (a murder which is written off with no investigation because the victim is a gay prisoner instead of a L&L's victim, a child of a wealthy family). I don't know if I'd have noticed this if I hadn't read Chip Delany describing his experience as a gay man in the 50's existing almost entirely outside of language, the only language at the time being that of heteronormativity. Murder as Love Story: L&L exchange sex as payment for the other commiting crimes; it's foreplay. Their statements to the police where they disagree over who's to blame is a lover's quarrel. Their sentencing is a marriage. Nathan performs his own funeral rites over Dickie's body after he dies on the operating table. They are, in their way, together til death did they part. This is the relationship they can have. That it does all this without romanticizing the murder itself or valorizing L&L as humans is frankly incredible.

Suture (rw) The pitch: at the funeral for his father, wealthy Vincent Towers meets his long lost half brother Clay Arlington. It is implied Clay is a child from out of wedlock, possibly an affair; no one knows Vincent has a half-brother but him and Clay. Vincent invites Clay out to his fancy-ass home in Arizona. Thing is, Vincent is suspected (correctly) by the police of having murdered his father, and, due to a striking family resemblence, he's brought Clay to his home to fake his own death. He finagles Clay into wearing his clothes and driving his car, and then blows the car up and flees the state, leaving the cops to think him dead. Thing is, Clay survives, but with amnesia. The doctors tell him he's Vincent, and he has no reason to disagree. Any discrepancy in the way he looks is dismissed as the result of reconstructive surgery after the explosion. So Clay Arlington resumes Vincent Towers' life, without knowing Clay Arlington even exists. The twist: Clay and Vincent are both white, but Vincent is played by Michael Harris, a white actor, and Clay is played by Dennis Haysbert, a Black actor. "Ian, if there's just the two of them, how do you know it's not Harris playing a Black character?" Glad you asked! It is most explicitly obvious during a scene where Vincent/Clay's surgeon-cum-girlfriend essentially bringing up phrenology to explain how Vincent/Clay couldn't possibly have murdered his father, describing straight hair, thin lips, and a Greco-Roman nose Haysbert very clearly doesn't have. But, let's be honest: we knew well beforehand that the rich-as-fuck asshole living in a huge, modern house and living it up in Arizona high society was white. Though Clay is, canonically, white, he lives an poor and underprivileged life common to Black men in America. Though the film's title officially refers to the many stitches holding Vincent/Clay's face together after the accident, "suture" is a film theory term, referring to the way a film audience gets wrapped up - sutured - in the world of the movie, choosing to forget the outside world and pretend the story is real. The usage is ironic, because the audience cannot be sutured in; we cannot, and are not expected to, suspend our disbelief that Clay is white. We are deliberately distanced. Consequently this is a movie to be thought about, not to to be felt. It has the shape of a Hitchcockian thriller but it can't evoke the emotions of one. You can see the scaffolding - "ah, yes, this is the part of a thriller where one man hides while another stalks him with a gun, clever." I feel ill-suited to comment on what the filmmakers are saying about race. I could venture a guess about the ending, where the psychiatrist, the only one who knows the truth about Clay, says he can never truly be happy living the lie of being Vincent Towers, while we see photographs of Clay/Vincent seemingly living an extremely happy life: society says white men simply belong at the top more than Black men do, but, if the roles could be reversed, the latter would slot in seamlessly. Maybe??? Of all the movies in this collection, this is the one I'd most want to read an essay on (followed by Swoon).

The Last Seduction (dnrw) No, no, no, I am not rewataching this piece of shit movie.

Brick (rw) Here's my weird contention: Brick is in color and in widescreen, but, besides that? There's nothing neo- about this noir. There's no swearing except "hell." (I always thought Tug said "goddamn" at one point but, no, he's calling The Pin "gothed-up.") There's a lot of discussion of sex, but always through implication, and the only deleted scene is the one that removed ambiguity about what Brendan and Laura get up to after kissing. There's nothing postmodern or subversive - yes, the hook is it's set in high school, but the big twist is that it takes this very seriously. It mines it for jokes, yes, but the drama is authentic. In fact, making the gumshoe a high school student, his jadedness an obvious front, still too young to be as hard as he tries to be, just makes the drama hit harder. Sam Spade if Sam Spade were allowed to cry. I've always found it an interesting counterpoint to The Good German, a movie that fastidiously mimics the aesthetics of classic noir - down to even using period-appropriate sound recording - but is wholly neo- in construction. Brick could get approved by the Hays Code. Its vibe, its plot about a detective playing a bunch of criminals against each other, even its slang ("bulls," "yegg," "flopped") are all taken directly from Hammett. It's not even stealing from noir, it's stealing from what noir stole from! It's a perfect curtain call for the collection: the final film is both the most contemporary and the most classic. It's also - but for the strong case you could make for Night Moves - the best movie on the list. It's even more appropriate for me, personally: this was where it all started for me and noir. I saw this in theaters when it came out and loved it. It was probably my favorite movie for some time. It gave me a taste for pulpy crime movies which I only, years later, realized were neo-noir. This is why I looked into Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang and In Bruges. I've seen it more times than any film on this list, by a factor of at least 3. It's why I will always adore Rian Johnson and Joseph Gordon-Levitt. It's the best-looking half-million-dollar movie I've ever seen. (Indie filmmakers, take fucking notes.) I even did a script analysis of this, and, yes, it follows the formula, but so tightly and with so much style. Did you notice that he says several of the sequence tensions out loud? ("I just want to find her." "Show of hands.") I notice new things each time I see it - this time it was how "brushing Brendan's hair out of his face" is Em's move, making him look more like he does in the flashback, and how Laura does the same to him as she's seducing him, in the moment when he misses Em the hardest. It isn't perfect. It's recreated noir so faithfully that the Innocent Girl dies, the Femme Fatale uses intimacy as a weapon, and none of the women ever appear in a scene together. 1940's gender politics maybe don't need to be revisited. They say be critical of the media you love, and it applies here most of all: it is a real criticism of something I love immensely.

[prince-septimus]

When the first suicide sqaud movie dropped I was just so happy to get Harley content (props to Margot she kills it) and there's a lot I like about that movie. Although looking back I can't help but see that they did Harley dirty? and honestly did not seem to value her, at least to me it seemed she was just there as jokers shadow like thats all a backdrop to the joker

I get her origin/creation in the animated series and that originally her character is tied to his purely because of that, but there's literally no reason the movie had to use that. her backstory simply could have been she saw a lot of shit as a therapist in ARKHAM and ending up trying to give treatment to the joker was just the icing on the cake so she decides screw it I'm gonna go have fun in Gotham and embrace a little bit of the crazy. Orgins and comic storys change in slight ways all the time. because of Ayer Sqaud BOP had to try break her away from joker (love bop no complaints about it) but Ayer Squad she's jokers shadow/backdrop/doll/thing then bop have to try break her away from his character so that she stand on her own as a character and then we get tss (yayy) and harley is finally 'free' to use as her own character and portray her own stories she's not all wrapped up in the jokers story. DC/Warner Bros don't seem to have much planning and thought into what way they're gonna lay future movies out and that's fine they don't need to have thier version of an mcu and dc movie directors get to put thier own spin on it and be creative without really having to worry about long term continuity but it seems like they maybe get over excited and end up not listening to fans/caring about anyone elses view of the character except their own and yeah it's thier project but the characters are important to everyone not just them

And I can't even with her 'suit/costume' in the Ayer Sqaud, jokers property plastered all over her, I liked her hair and the bat and the jacket was okay i guess, I really don't think costume wise it was a decision of 'oh harley would think the tiny sparkly shorts are cool and that's why she's wearing them' it blatantly seemed like 'harley is jokers trash and hey everyone let's look at her ass cuz she ain't worth much else in the movie and she doesn't have much else to offer'? It just sucks to me that Harleys first movie appearance was primarily Jokers accessorie and the sex appeal of the movie

Sorry for this unasked for rant but I am so grateful for BOP and TSS and her costumes/suits in those movies felt way more like harley is wearing that cuz she thinks it's cool compared to Ayer squad where it felt like harley is wearing that so we can attempt to get more views on the movie via harleys backside

I mean for all I've said there i dont hate the ayer suicide sqaud it sounds like I do but I don't 😅 and I don't hate DC movies tbh DC is my favourite just cuz I care more about their characters cuz of the cartoons I watched as a kid and comics and I've only literally read one marvel comic so because of that I do have more of an attachment to DC this is so long winded opps

To summarise my bullshit I like dc I like all the movies even ayer sqaud but Harleys character was handled poorly in the beginning

im putting this under the cut bc i also made a long rant djgsgjsg

i think harley quinn in the dc movies is the best example of male gaze vs female gaze, while also showing what it's like when you let the actor themselves have a say in the character.

david ayer is a great director and i would love to see what he had truly set out to do with suicide squad by seeing his cut of it, but there was so much i disliked about harley's story in that movie. at the end of the day i've come to accept it because it leads into the character she becomes in bop and tss, but this was definitely harley being seen in the male gaze, something that her character has all-too-long dealt with in the comics.

bop was directed by cathy yates, a woman of color, and this immediately meant there was going to be a change in harley's character and her design. this is the female gaze and it meant that harley is actually going to be seen as a character that we love bc we can tell she was written by a woman (christina hodson) and directed by a woman. (this can also be seen by the small action of canary putting her hair up in the middle of the big fight scene at the end). overall bop was very much meant to be the opposite of suicide squad in terms of how they deal with harley. it's basically the recovery stage for her character.

and tss. my dear sweet tss. i love how james gunn handles her character and i love that he gave margot some creative control with some of it, like the removal of her rotten tattoo. i think tss is great in those moments where we see harley being her usual self (when she has sex with the dictator) but james gunn doesn't just focus on harley like that, he gives us scenes like when joel kinnaman is found shirtless and sweaty or when john cena is straight up in his underwear and takes up half the screen. where david ayer spent half the time focusing on sexualizing harley quinn, james gunn switches it up. and i love that.

and im in the same boat - i love suicide squad. i think its a decent set up to bop and tss and i would love to see the ayer cut, but in terms of harley's character, it sucked. but when bop was released and started to kind of fix harley and put her on this path of recovery, it made what ayer did in suicide squad work better. i still dont like how harley was sexualized in suicide squad, but im not as mad anymore now that it can be explained better with 2 other movies backing it up.

this is a long way to say that you're absolutely correct.

[greycappedjester]

Hi I'm so sorry I'm just too shy to ask this on ao3 but I was wondering: how is Slade's relationship with Dick? I don't mind them as a ship in general but in the story sometimes I feel like Slade gets too close to Dick and I thought if there was something platonic on his side? I'm sure you wouldn't do that in the story that's why I'm asking if it's only on Slade's side. Sorry if this is a stupid question lol. Maybe it's just because I've read sl/adedick fics before. ^^D

Nah, I’ve actually been waiting for someone to ask about that. So....it’s complicated and will take awhile to explain so I’m putting it under a Read More before I get too long winded with my character headcanons:

This is going to get soooooo long, lol, so feel free to skim. Warning for Gotham in general and Gotham being naturally a bad place for kid vigilantes to grow up in. Also because this explanation gets somewhat dark in character interpretation....

Bonus short story at the end after a really long post.

-------

Alright, so first, I feel like I should mention again that I never watched the Teen Titans animated show past maybe the first two episodes and the movie my friends wanted me to watch that I don’t really remember. (I meant to watch that show, just never got around to it). I say this because I heard that the Teen Titans TV show portrayed the Dick and Deathstroke relationship much differently in a way that’s cool and fine but not something I can see myself really wanting to write about. I know their relationship more from comics where Dick was already an adult (albeit a young adult) when he first met Slade. 

So. Back to my After the Fall of Olympus universe and yeah, I’m slowly getting to my answer. The thing is....the story is entirely in Dick’s POV right now.

And Dick’s absolutely terrible at reading and picking up any form of affection others have for him. He understands it abstractly (he knows people care) but when assessing, he critically underestimates it if he remembers to account for it at all. This goes even worse with people he’s closer to--which is why it took him forever to realize why Jason actually did want to stay with him at the manor and why he still has no idea Barbara is in love with him. Even Kory who was really, really direct about liking him, it took him years to fully emotionally process and respond to that. He’s getting better...but remembering his own value (in others eyes) isn’t something he’s overwhelming good at doing.

My headcanon, he is abnormally good at reading people and picking up basic sexual attraction. He’s good at telling when he’s being flirted with or when people are attracted to him and, honestly, Dick’s charismatic and instinctively a flirt, too.With that, partly from growing up in Gotham with its weird and supremely dark villains, I think Dick very much divorces the two concepts of romantic attraction and sexual flirting in his mind--he’s aware they can go together, obviously with Kory--but he doesn’t naturally pair them as other people probably would. It’s also part of why he just doesn’t get the level of concern Tim has about Catalina.

Okay, back to my point.

The way I write Slade and Dick’s relationship is actually mostly done off screen. But, I think Slade started with approval of Dick’s skills and potential in a clinical/objective view, growing respect and interest (personal but not at all romantic) in him as a person, and much more recently in the story (as in that last conversation he had in Ch. 18), I think Slade realized he has some legitimate attraction and cares a lot about Dick in a way that’s probably romantic.

Slade also is very, very aware immediately that he’s not going to do anything with that and, in a way, doesn’t want to because Dick ever responding to that would be jeopardizing his relationship with his family, his team, his view of his morals (which are so integral to Dick) in a way that would be exceptionally out of character and concerning coming from Dick. In other words, something happening would be a lot more terrifying than nothing happening and Slade cares.

For Dick, it’s a lot more simple. He does not have any romantic feelings there. He does in a somewhat analytical, unconscious way recognize that Slade’s probably attracted to him (probably before Slade noticed honestly) but he’s....well, kind of used to that at some level. More so, Dick doesn’t connect it to emotional care and--like with everyone else--vastly underestimates that Slade does care about him in a way that’s actually pretty selfless for a mercenary. For a romance, your guess is absolutely right, it’s not going to go anywhere in this series but I wanted the undertones and implications to be there in the final third of the story

....But, that’s also more of a later/recent development in that relationship. For most of the story that’s posted so far, Slade sees his relationship with Dick as a lot of respect and even care but not as romantic in any way. I can promise no romantic undertones at all until Dick was already in his 20s because I really, really am not interested in writing underage. (for those curious about Slade’s age in the story, I think of him as mid-20s in his introduction in Year 3 and pretty early 30s here to Dick’s early 20s)

Above everything, they respect each other and would be almost friends if that were possible.

The team and his family doesn’t know any of this.

Anyway, that was long, so here’s a bonus short story from Slade’s view. I write a lot of After the Fall of Olympus short stories in other charcter’s views that I’m not planning on posting until After the Fall of Olympus.

This one’s between Year 5 and 6 and is titled “October 7th”:

-------

It’s October 7th, almost two in the morning, and Slade’s camped out in a somehow still standing bombed out apartment in a no-name village in the middle of a war-torn country.

He’s not exactly expecting visitors.

There’s a knock on the apartment door.

Slade cocks his gun and puts two rounds in the door before, for good measure, adding matching ones on either side of the frame.

He has two seconds to let himself pretend that’s the end of it before the door knob turns to the unmistakable sound of a skilled lock pick. 

Fuck, he’s too tired for this shit today. 

“Geeze, Slade, what if I’d been an innocent civilian?”

Slade’s hand stills on the gun in surprise then consideration before slowly slipping it back into the holster. 

“Kid,” he greets. “There’s no innocent civilians left around here. ‘Specially ones that can make it to my door without me hearing any footsteps.”

“I’ve been working on that.” Dick says, walking into the apartment. He isn’t even wearing his uniform, just plain black military style clothes with the lower half of his face covered by a piece of cloth. He pushes it down and smiles as he presses the door shut behind him. “You did tell me to get better, after all.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” he mutters without much heat. “You getting better almost left me out of a job.”

Dick rolls his eyes. “Please, as if both of us don’t know Luthor could’ve gotten out of those charges in months. If the Light didn’t erase them for him, anyway.”

Slade shrugs. Maybe another time, he’d find the energy to banter back. But not today. Never today.

“Why are you here, Dick? How’d you find me?”

The smile slides off of Dick’s face, leaving behind those far too heavy eyes to belong to an eighteen year old.

“You know I have your file, Slade.” Dick clears his throat. “I know what day it is.”

….Fuck.

It’s not like he expected anything else. Not since the moment he saw the kid. But, still...he doesn’t want to deal with this. Doesn’t want to deal with anything. Today, he just wants to crawl back into the worst, most deserted corner of the world he can find until the hours creep passed and he can find the energy to move.

Instead, he glares. “Good for you. Now get the fuck out, kid.”

Dick grimaces but shakes his head. “Not until you answer a question for me.”

Slade groans and, for a handful of seconds, honestly contemplates just killing him, considers it in a way that he hasn’t since before he even met the kid, back when he was first handed a file by a practically no name organization called H.I.V.E.

He’d regret it later. Sure. He has too much he wants to see out of the kid to kill him in a shitty, dusty apartment. But, that regret would come later. Later, once this day had finally passed.

That alone is almost enough to have him reaching for his gun. Almost

“Grayson,” he finally grounds out, “if you know what day it is, you know I’m not exactly inclined to play our game of hero and villain right now. You want information, find someone else.”

“Good, I’m not here to play either. Only problem is I can’t ask anyone else, you're the only one who knows the answer.” Dick lowers himself to sit on the floor across from him, like a particularly stupid mouse in front of a viper.

And then, he looks up and his eyes are too steady to belong to prey.

“Here’s the question: Do you really want to be alone today, Slade?”

The breath catches in Slade’s`lungs, harsher than if the kid had just punched him.

He pushes the reaction down, already knowing it’s too late, and says in the steadiest voice he can manage, “Yes.”

Dick stares at him, unmoving. “I don’t believe you.”

The air around them is too tight, too burning, and Slade’s being pushed down under it to suffocate. 

He can’t fight it, so he takes it and pushes it back into anger. “The fuck, kid! What do you know?  You said you have my file, yeah? How long have you had it? Because I’m betting you’ve had it since we first met!” He lunges forward. “So, why are you here now, Dick? What makes this year so special? What’s made you decide to pretend to care now? Because whatever it is, kid, I can promise you, I’m not worth it. So, leave!”

By the end, he’s gripping Dick’s shirt, pulling it tighter until the collar has to be digging painfully into his neck. 

Dick doesn’t look away. “No.”

Slade doesn’t look away either. “You know I really think I might kill you right now.”

“You won’t.”

 One of Slade’s hands moves until it’s pressing into the kid’s neck. A single sharp twist and he could snap it. “So sure?”

Dick nods.

“And why’s that?”

“Because I brought your favorite whiskey.”

A brown bag is pressed into Slade’s ribs and the man feels something rising in his chest that could possibly be laughter if it was some other time.

He drops the kid.

He takes the bag.

“Pretty sure heroes aren’t supposed to be contributing to alcoholism, kid.” He gestures to a half empty bottle of much cheaper stuff beside him.

Dick coughs, rubbing at his throat. “Please. With your metahuman metabolism, I bet you can barely feel it for an hour.”

“Depends how much I drink,” Slade counters, eyeing the bottle. “How’d you know my favorite?”

Dick shrugs. “Gotta keep some secrets to myself.”

He fishes out a spare shot glass from somewhere in the black folds of his outfit and pours a small glass for himself. 

Slade raises an eyebrow. “Last time I checked, you’re still 18, kid.”

Dick gives him an incredulous look in return. “Last time I checked, this place doesn’t have a drinking age...or a government, actually.”

Slade hums, amused, using a larger glass for himself. “True, but thought you’d be following the laws of your own birth city a little closer, hero. Gotham’s still at 21...on the record at least.”

“Technically, Gotham’s not my birth city.” Dick snorts and takes the shot. 

Slade tilts his head. “Where were you born?”

Dick pauses, thinking, before offering a sheepish smile. “You know….I actually have no idea. Somewhere in Europe, probably? I came early, the circus was still on tour. One of the lion tamers helped deliver me, used to be a doctor.”

“Always a surprise, kid,” Slade shakes his head, draining his glass. Tasting it in his mouth and pretending it’s enough to wash away the ash.

The next words come before he can stop them.  “...Adeline always wanted two kids.”

Dick goes quiet.

“Of course,” Slade says to his glass and fuck it, just fuck it,  “turns out we didn’t even get the one. Turns out I didn’t get either my wife or my son.”

Fuck, he hates October 7th.

He reaches for the whiskey, ignoring how his hand shakes. “Addy was a soldier, you know? A good one. Of all the stupid fucking ways she could go, I never thought it’d be childbirth. Maybe I should have. Always knew I’d kill her somehow.”

“You didn’t kill her, Slade,” Dick says softly.

“Sure. Whatever,” he agrees, too tired to argue. It’s not as if he hasn’t heard every variation sometime or another. It’s just right now, he can’t quite bring himself to debate about the cause when the end of it’s always going to be the same.

Dick drops the subject and the relief that Slade feels  is immense enough that it’s close to gratitude.

“What was your son’s name?”

“Grant. We were going to name him Grant.” He takes another sip. “If we had another one, we were going to name him Joseph. Or Rose for a girl.”

“Those are good names.”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

Slade doesn’t answer, looking up to eye the kid over his drink. Dick sees it, holding up his own glass in acknowledgement before knocking it back.

“Why are you here, kid,” Slade asks again. “We’re not friends, pretty far fucking from it last time I checked.”

“I’ve got my reasons,” he answers calmly.

“If you’re here to make your usual sales pitch about the virtues of heroism, I really will kill you. Whiskey or not.”

Dick shakes his head. “....is it so hard to believe I just didn’t think you should be alone?”

Slade thinks his skepticism is loud enough without him needing the words.

The look Dick gives him is steady in return. “Think what you want to, Slade, I know what grief feels like. It’s a poison. It’ll kill you unless you find a way to drain it.” 

Dick looks down at his own glass and Slade gets the feeling the kid’s no longer talking about just Slade. It’s still a tossup whether he means himself or the Bat.

Either way, Slade makes sure his next smirk is particularly pointed. “And, look at you. Tracking me all the way down here to try and save my tortured soul. Such a hero.”

“Oh, shut up,” Dick says with an eye roll, pouring himself another drink

Slade cocks his head. “Speaking of, don’t all the good little heroes have school right about now.”

Dick looks up, almost sheepish. “I’m ditching my classes. Don’t tell my brothers, I’m still trying to be a good influence.”

Slade snorts and takes a particularly long swig.

A good influence. As if a single one of his stupid, fucking team doesn’t think the fricking sun shines out of the kid’s ass.

Fuck. What is Slade even doing? Sitting in a run down apartment in the middle of a warzone drinking whiskey with a too trusting kid a decade younger and that he probably should have killed years ago.

But, then, it’s always been exceedingly difficult for him to do what he should---what’s the sane and logical thing--when it comes to Dick Grayson. And, one day--when he doesn’t have the burn of booze sitting in his gut and his chest doesn’t ache like he’s been shot--Slade’s going to take a hard look at why that is.

For now, he’ll just leave it like he usually does. The kid’s too interesting to die yet. 

Dick eyes his shot glass, contemplatively. “This whiskey’s way too overpriced, Slade. It’s practically aged vodka.”

Slade finishes his off steadily. “Shows you have little taste, Grayson.”

Dick laughs and slides the bottle over. “I brought another one anyway.”

....Far, far too interesting.

[lizzybeth1986]

Quick Thoughts on DD Book 1 Chapter 4

• Jesus, this book is expensive.

• Like I assumed Chapter 3's one accomplishment-one-or-two-LIs-or-a-family-member thing would be a one-off, just to introduce us into the system/ease us into the story, but no...they've (sort of) repeated it this chapter. I was hoping they would spread out the accomplishments at least, but perhaps they want us to have at least most of the accomplishments worked out before we leave for London.

• I really hope this doesn't become a regular thing because it will only cause players to lose interest in the books for lack of affordability, in the long run. As it is the book largely caters to a niche audience...alienating that audience by having them lose of on half the story won't bode well for the book.

• Title: Best Foot Forward. Man, this one is easy. Of course it refers to dancing. And quite a lot of dancing is done this chapter, that's for sure!

• Sooo...the Earl has decided to introduce us into society in Edgewater with a garden party. Lots of hobnobbing, some dancing, a few games and you meet at least one 'suitor'.

• Did You Know: According to writer and garderner Kim Wilson, who wrote a book titled In the Garden with Jane Austen, gardens were viewed as markers of social status. In an interview with The Scotsman, she says, "each family's garden reflected not only their needs but, if they had enough money, their social aspirations". The poor cottagers of the time were mostly concerned with growing food and having a place to keep their chickens whereas wealthier families would have had kitchen gardens, but also often extensive pleasure grounds, which were places to display their wealth and taste. (from an article about Jane Austen's love for gardens in The Scotsman).

• Last chapter had us learning (optionally) the art of the fan from our Lady Grandmother, so it makes sense that what happens in this chapter is this:

Lololol just kidding.

• So the chapter begins with the MC and Briar talking. Briar is excited about the fact that a Duke (who, she reminds us, is "one step below a Prince Regent"), and the MC can either choose to be excited or very confident. Interestingly, if you're excited, she reminds you to "not forget your roots", which I think is a recurring theme in this book. After all, that was the last thing the MC's mother told her on her deathbed.

• Dominique enters the room and both she and Briar present us with a pretty pink lace dress that is sure to improve both our social standing and catch everyone's eye at this introductory garden party.

• It looks quite pretty, actually. But that's because I love lace.

• We head downwards, finding Annabelle performing for herself in the foyer and having a thoroughly good time.

• I'm wondering if I should have a tally for the number of times she says "a thousand pardons" (and for the record, I think her way of saying "fiddlesticks" is adorable xD).

• Our third "accomplishment" (and our second paid one) is presented to us here: dancing. It's not like the MC doesn't know dancing - she does - it's that the country dances (this might be a reference to the English Country Dances that were popular among all classes) are different from the ones Annabelle has learned, and indeed the popular ones for the aristocracy that are coming in from other places, like France.

• Annabelle mentions a couple of dances that were popular for its time: the cotillion (originated from France), the Quadrille (also from France), and La Boulanger (also French). If we choose the shoes the Lady Grandmother got made for us, Annabelle wastes no time in teaching us the last one.

• Annabelle speaks to us about the Quadrille being new. She isn't lying. The Quadrille became fashionable in England around 1815.

• Again, the good thing about the accomplishment scenes is that they're meant only for learning the skill, and Annabelle can develop in her individual scenes independent of this. Though I'm not sure if cramming both her individual scenes and her accomplishment scenes in the same chapter, two chapters in a row is a very good idea.

• Another marker of how new the MC is, lies in her interaction with Mr Woods (who is perhaps the only member of the housing staff we see at the party. Briar disappears completely after she's done her work of getting the MC ready, and Luke doesn't appear either). Mr Woods is surprised the MC deigns to speak to him in public, and Henrietta uses her interaction with him to point out how little she fits in, what with talk of the MC's "roots".

• Lol the exchange with the Earl if you bought the scene with the Lady Grandmother is quite funny haha. He speaks about Dominique drilling him into learning the names of all the families and the MC - saucy little shit that she is 😄 - looks at her fan and says "oddly enough, I know exactly what you mean".

• Ernest Sincliare makes his appearance after two chapters, and there's some banter about compliments if you're wearing the pretty lace dress I think. She teases him about it and he retorts that since he passes compliments so rarely, you can be sure that when he does he means every word. I can see that logic in that, Sinclair, but must you look like a child who has accidentally sucked on a particularly sour lemon when you do? 😂

• Throughout the chapter, you get references to the Season in London, and each time the MC by default takes it for granted that she will not be going there. Sinclaire hosts parties in London, Annabelle Parsons will be going there for the Season. Up until the end of the chapter, the vibe given overall is that she won't be seeing the two for a while now that they will be leaving Edgewater, and she won't.

• Did You Know: The London Season was developed to coincide with the sitting of parliament. During the months when parliament was in session, members of both Houses needed to be in attendance in London and came to the capital bringing their families with them. The London season grew up in response to this influx of upper class people who needed to be entertained.

Amanda Foreman, in her biography on Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, stated: "the aristocratic "season" came into existence not only to further the marriage market but to entertain the upper classes while they carried out their political duties. The season followed the rhythm of Parliament: it began in late October with the opening of the new session, and ended in June with the summer recess.” of course, later on this period of time gradually began to shift.

There also seems to be something called the "little season", but that seems more a fixture of the Victorian age than the Regency one (as mentioned in the article on the London Season from the Regency History website).

• The Earl and Mr Sinclaire share a more than cordial relationship: the Earl treats him with considerable warmth and Sinclaire shows a genuine respect and regard for him. You have a choice of asking him whether it is the Earl - or you - he has respect for (and the second option leads to a romantic moment), but it is what he says about the Earl, and his later interaction with Duke Richards that intrigues me:

What happened to Ledford Park that the Sinclaires almost lost it? Why does his statement towards the Duke about Ledford sound so accusatory? Why is there such a strong undercurrent within the latter interaction? I want to know what the story behind Ledford Park is, and how the Earl helped save it.

• One of my favourite Sinclaire-related sequences is an additional scene featuring the fan, as taught to us by the Dowager Countess the previous chapter. I tried the last two with Florence, the MC who has no interest in Sinclaire:

(the first four screenshots are from the "friends" option, and the next four from the "go away u suck" option)

Meanwhile, Marianne just goes in for the kill, fam. Homegirl didn't learn all those thot moves from Grandma for nothing 😄

I do like that extra bit of sexual tension in this scene. I'm not very into Sinclaire yet, but I can see the appeal he'd have for someone who would want the Mr Darcy type of Regency male LI character. You also see a fair bit of it in the scene where the MC asks him if it is her he respects:

• Sinclaire, dude, what is it with you and Italics??

• We now interrupt our regular programme with a game of Skittles. I'm not sure how many of you assumed Regency-era aristocrats were going to start passing around fruit-flavoured candy but I sure did 😂

• So this is skittles, played with nine pins. Very much one of the precursors to present day bowling from what I've read. Playing this game, and beating a champion like Mr Sinclaire at it will not only allow you to spend time alone with him, but also increase your social standing.

• It's simple enough: hit the red pin in the centre, and if you want you can distract the hell out of Sinclaire after he's fired his first shot.

• Twice this chapter, you see our resident comic relief for the day: Miss Theresa Oh-My-Smelling-Salts Sutton, and Mr Edmund Do-I-Look-Like-I-Care Malcaster, and I've decided I like them both (I wanted to add screenshots, but tumblr mobile sucks and won't let me put up more than ten images 😒)

• So we meet the "handsome", "titled" eligible bachelor our Lady Grandmother wanted us so badly to marry and...

...um. lol. ok.

Handsome? Charming? When was the last time you looked in the mirror dude, 20 years ago?

• You have a choice of how to respond after Duke Richards insults Mr. Sinclaire. You can either choose the Manners option, or you can choose to outright sass the man. If you don't sass him? The Lady Grandmother will do it for you.

• With the Manners option we find out that the Duke is 51 years old.

• With the non-manners option we find out that the dude likes saucy little minxes.

• @ the last panel in Florence's playthrough, Grandma even you can't deal with this dude for two minutes without nodding off. Why are you dumping him on my head then? (don't tell me. I know the answer 😐). See, this is why Florence will eventually kiss her inheritance goodbye lol.

• Jesus can this man just...speak two words without touching me??

• FINALLY. Miss Parsons. We choose a hiding place to get away from the Duke and then she offers to show us a new part of the estate: the lakefront. The great thing about gardens, esp in the writing of the time, was that it provided privacy for people at the time and allowed them to interact in ways they couldn't in public.

• Did you know: Austen herself used gardens pretty extensively in her writing. Mr Knightley confesses his love to Emma close to a shrubbery. Elizabeth jokes to her aunt about deciding to marry Mr Darcy after seeing the grounds in Pemberley. Fanny Price of Mansfield Park remarks, “To sit in the shade on a fine day, and look upon verdure, is the most perfect refreshment.” Catherine Morland of Northanger Abbey falls in love with hyacinths, Marianne Dashwood of Sense and Sensibility has a passion for fallen leaves in an autumnal garden, while Anne Elliot of Persuasion is always inspired to think of poetry when enjoying the beauties of nature.

Susannah Fullerton in her essay "Jane Austen and her gardens" (for the website Garden Drum) says: "Many proposals [in Austen's novels] take place out of doors where lovers can find some privacy amongst the gravel walks and flower beds; garden improvements are planned by some of the characters; and her heroines all enjoy going into a garden to think". 

• Makes sense then that one of the special scenes of this largely "forbidden" relationship (if you choose for that to happen) would take place in greenery, close to a lake. If you notice, it's quite in keeping with the times that most of the romantic moments this chapter happen either in an isolated section of the gardens or while dancing, both of which allow for some measure of interaction between people interested in each other.

• Miss Parsons, the legendary hero of a Duck Prophecy xD

• I love her in this scene. Sure she gets shy when she receives attention she's not used to from us, and she's kind and educative and sweet, but she's also boisterous and passionate and not afraid to pull punches when she needs to (case in point: the shade she immediately throws Henrietta's way regarding her "tutelage"). This scene has her stealing cake from the party to feed the ducks, getting exhilarated from the race and her new friendship with the MC, and feeling extremely confused by her feelings if you speak to her romantically.

• The first half of this scene is pure fun, but the second inevitably shows the two women experiencing a sense of loss that their connection will be cut short - whether they are friends or whether this is a budding romance.

• What I do love about both the romance scenes are the extra touches added to both in the coding. In the skittles scene with Ernest, Marianne is spoken of by default as brushing her hand against his before giving him the ball, whereas Florence simply passes it to him.

• Even with Annabelle, if you acquire romance points with her, the ending of that scene is written quite differently:

I absolutely love this part of the scene. And given that very often the female LI is treated like just the default best friend with some stray romance options attached, it really does feel good to have that sexual tension acknowledged.

• Florence, babe, what is it with you and Italics??

• TIME TO PUT ON OUR DANCING SHOES GUYS (if we bought them).

• So we're doing a dance called La Boulanger...which kinda looks like this:

You dance in a circle, then keep switching partners.

• Did You Know: that the Boulanger was one of the very few dances mentioned by name in Jane Austen's novels? (Pride and Prejudice Chapter 3. I think the reel is mentioned in another).

• I have two left feet unless someone is heavily choreographing a flash mob and spends ages teaching me the steps lol so this looks pretty complicated to me 😂

• You have an option of choosing between Mr Sinclaire, Miss Parsons and Duke Richards. The first two are the usual you'd expect from romantic dance scenes if you choose either of the first two, impressing them with your dance moves and then catching their eye when you're dancing with Edmund, your stepbrother. With Miss Parsons there is an additional show of boldness in that there is a danger of making their affections public.

• The Duke Richards option, which I managed to see thanks to @i-dream-so-i-write ...seems pretty okay actually. He doesn't seem as handsy and creepy as he does in our first meeting (there is a moment where his "hands skim your waist" though, and he tells us we've been apart too long [a couple seconds, tops]), but he's also still talking our ears off. If anyone is interested in seeing it, I can attach the screenshots!

• This man is so freaking extra I can't even.

• The chapter ends with the Earl announcing that he is changing his will, and that the MC is heiress to Edgewater Estate now, which makes it essential for her, then, to make her debut at the London Season, and begin searching for prospective bridegrooms.

• There is a catch though. You get the inheritance if you marry someone of suitable rank. In short...at this point in the story, Marianne is doing alright, but Florence is well and truly screwed until there is a twist somewhere (and surely there will be at some point). Sorry Florence.

• Henrietta has something up her sleeve, and Edmund, who was expecting to inherit, is sad and tells the MC so. You get a relationship point with him if you tell him you understand how it must feel, but he reiterates that you probably won't. We have time, we can still get this dude (and his palpitating fiancée) on our side. Maybe.

• Looks like we'll be starting our journey to London straightaway, and making our debut in London at Mr Sinclaire's party by Chapter 6. Alsooo from the spoilery chapter descriptions it looks like Mr. Marlcaster will try tripping us up at least once, or more than once. Also looks like we have two more skills on our accomplishment board to learn. So far we've gotten needlework, music and dancing - we now need to see what the other two are. I THINK one of them is painting.

General Thoughts:

• Good chapter. It's a little slow which is fine, because I think all the action will actually happen during the London Season instead. We meet only two suitors, one of whom we have already met in the first chapter.

• I feel like the extra scenes that we'll get with the unlocked accomplishments will include other styles of the same art. We initially learn the piano, but I feel like unlocking it will lead to extra scenes with other instruments, and unlocking the dancing shoes will show us extra scenes of Annabelle teaching us other dances (the waltzes, the reel, etc). I'm not entirely sure about this, it's just a theory I have. I mean, once we're in London we'll need to learn waltzes and the minuet and stuff.

• Luke doesn't make an appearance this chapter, but then again nor does Briar as soon as the MC gets ready. I think we'll see more of him now that we will be traveling to London.

• Donna Hatch's (who writes a ton of historical romances, esp Regency) essay on the London Season lists the months active in each year for it, and in 1816 it was from February to July. In the story it's now the beginning of April. Usually it's best to go at the very start if you're looking for marriage prospects, but given the MC's particular circumstances this time of the season isn't too bad either I'd reckon.

• Remember how I told you guys last chapter about the inclusion of Mary Brunton's Self Control? And how she criticizes the popular "rake" figure in Regency fiction? I'm not sure Duke Richards adheres completely to how rakes were depicted at the time, but he definitely does seem to be channeling Colonel Hargrave a little here.

• I wonder what the Duke seems to be hiding. Besides of course the truth of his equation with Sinclaire. Why is he so focused on this new woman? I think there might be more to this. I also can't wait to see the other suitors, like the viscount and Mr Chambers.

• I do like how we learn more about Sinclaire and Annabelle here. Annabelle largely has the role that Hana had in TRR, and there are some similarities - but she also has a lot more wiggle-room and seems to be bolder and a little more outgoing. She has grown up with the limitations placed on women at the time, but unlike Hana, hasn't faced as many restrictions in her upbringing.

• As I've mentioned before, I love Annabelle and I love that they're trying to do a better job of her. But I'm not entirely sure if cramming two separate scenes of hers in single chapters of an already expensive book is a wise choice, or if it will harm her development in the long run because people find it too expensive to spend on her. IMO the accomplishment scenes should be a little further spread out in the books.

• Now that the MC is going to be a future Countess, what is in store for her? In her rightful home Edgewater, she has a limited audience and not as much expectation to live up to...what will become of her now that she will be participating in the Season in London? Guess we'll find out today, or in the coming weeks xD

• Tagging: @boneandfur @liamraines @thespiritpanda @alanakusumastan @ernestsinclairs @mrsthomashunt @private-investigator-nazario @bcdollplace @queenodysseia @mcbangle

If you'd like to be tagged in one of the QTs, please let me know!

[seenashwrite]

Dearest Nash, I've touched on this before in (I believe) in a discussion re: why some mainstream fics get oodles of notes while more original ones do not, *but* I wanted to get a bit more specific here. There are certain writers here whose writing has a definite vibe to it (if you will) that separates their work from others, and your name is one of the first that comes to mind. Bear with me, because trying to detail what makes your writing stand out is difficult while trying to articulate a Q

^ this is a gif with parts 2 - 4, just FYI

Hmmm… this is a bit of a brain buster. But I can answer it, and I think succinctly, maybe with a touch of that Spidey sense you mention:

Thank you for your inquiry, hope that helps! 

I kid. But this is a brain-turner. And a characteristic which, like you say, ain’t limited to me. I’d honestly throw comedians under this umbrella, too, not because I’m necessarily gunning for a laugh every time, but because it’s pretty much their job to take a “basic” (a tenet or fact of life or present reality or whatever) and present the observation with a twist. I think of storyteller comedians specifically, your Patton Oswalt-s, Maria Bamford-s, Kathy Griffin-s, and John Mulaney-s.

So if I can sum up, assuming I’m tracking with you, what you’re more or less driving at with the “how” is this –> Is there anything beyond simply personality, or an auto-pilot thought cascade (for lack of better terminology) that contributes? Are there things someone could do/be proactive about, to perhaps cause this same sort of reaction to happen in their brain?

I think there just might be.

Folks reading this, let me ask you a question, and you cannot look it up:

What was the name of the Sherpa guide who led Sir Edmund Hillary up Mount Everest?

.

.

.

His name was Tenzing Norgay.

Nash, what in the name of the frozen corpse of George Mallory does this have to do with Lion’s question?

I shall tell you.

My father told me that fact when I was quite young, so young I legit couldn’t even ballpark my age for you. The context was that having little facts tucked away in your brain may come in handy. Not in a Jeopardy kind of way, more in a conversational way. I’ve no idea why the man thought the Sherpa guide who led Hillary up Mt. Everest would ever come up during a conversation with enough regularity to justify my knowing that fact (aside from him randomly quizzing me throughout my life) but hey, I guess it just did.

But speaking of Lil’ Nash, the situation for her was that she was the eldest of all the Nash litter by miles… like seven or eight years, I’m not bothering to check. So I had a lot of alone time, and my grandmother was my chief babysitter, so prior to kindergarten and then til I was in about second grade (so: all day long during the week, then every weekday after she picked me up from school), I was pretty much always at her house. Yeah, there were toys, but not a lot to do. And I’d read. I’d been reading on my own for a decent while, not because I was some prodigy but because my dad read to me *constantly* when Lil’ Nash was Itty-Bitty Nash, and it “took”. My mom also, every time she went to the grocery store always - and I mean always - brought back a book for me. It might’ve been an Archie comic—-

Mandatory #fuck the CW’s Riverdale tag

—-or a Babysitter’s Club, or Sweet Valley High, Judy Blume, Madeleine L’Engle, Zilpha Keatley Snyder, you get my point. Some small paperback. It would piss Dad off because he’s a cheap bastard and two buck books once or twice a month were really gonna cut into the savings [eyeroll] but also, in a way, because I’d kill it in a half day/a day. Wouldn’t put it down. After awhile, I started writing my own silly little kid stories, then - and this is where the creative writing love came about -  I started writing soap operas for my Barbies. (When I was older - like, 5th grade? 6th grade, maybe? - none of my peers were still playing with Barbies, and I got made fun of when, at a sleepover, they saw my stash. And I was like - No, no, no. Those aren’t for playing. That’s my cast.)

Time went on, and when I was bored at post-church lunch/dinners, I would also read the old encyclopedias at my grandmother’s, the ones from the late ‘60s/early ‘70s that she had for my mom and my aunt. As I got even older and became fascinated with rooting through the boxes in gran’s basement, looking at all the cool old clothes, I stumbled upon my aunt’s collection of Whoa-Hooooo Shit There’s No Way My Grandparents Knew You Read These books. Those kinda Harlequin-esque ones, except my aunt’s tastes run close to mine, none were the same shtick with different covers, shmultzy-sappy romance, there was always some sort of intrigue along with the sexy times, and she also had, like, every legit V. C. Andrews (meaning: not the ones from the ghostwriter, this was way before her death) book.

What is my point? I read a LOT. Now-a-days, other than fanfic (which… straight up: I don’t read a lot of that, either. I peace out on probs 80% of it before the third-to-fifth paragraph. It’s gotta sell me fast, yo) I haven’t read fiction in probably, oh…. 12 years? I think the last ones were the first couple Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Wait, no! I lie! I read the 50 Shades books when I was traveling 2x/wk for a job about 4 years ago, and I needed the laughs. It worked. Oh my days, that woman can’t write. The screenplay might’ve been worse, it goes her, then Buckleming, then everyone else. It’s bad. In any event, past decade or so, it’s more historical stuff and true crime and science stuff and all that old fart jazz.

Okay, so that’s #1: Read. And not just anything, be well-read, and that doesn’t mean developing some level of expertise, by “well” I’m saying to cover the spread. You’re building your tool kit, is all. You won’t use most of it, but it’s nice to have options. You also don’t always have to get this stuff from reading now-a-days, because podcasts. Cover the spread there, too. Lemme look at my bookmarks…. 

[Spongebob narrator voice: A few moments later]

I’m back. Science - Skeptic’s Guide to the Universe; General current stuff without being news - CGP Grey’s Hello Internet; current events with shittons of pop culture, past and present - Greg Proops’ Smartest Man in the World; fun history stuff - The Dollop; entertainment stuff - How Did This Get Made.

#2: Keep a notebook with you and jot down turns-of-phrase that spark something in your brain - things you read on websites, on twitter, in articles, things you hear people say (real life, TV, movies, podcasts), and write it. Don’t snap a pic with your phone or make a note in your phone. There are studies behind this, I’m not hunting them down, you’ll just have to trust me, but there are, and it goes to being reflexive, a brain “muscle memory” thing, if you will. You’re not doing it to plagiarize, you’re doing it to dissect it, kind’ve like you did with the example you gave on me —> went from punch action to punch spiked with booze to a punch with a spiked gauntlet.

Which leads to #3: Mental dictionary. I have a large vocab repository, and it stems from the tons of reading - I stop and look up stuff if I either don’t know it, or it’s used in such a way that I think they’ve got it wrong and want to double-check that maybe there’s another usage I don’t know - and also stems from a drive to combat the (still fairly thick) deep South drawl I can’t kick, and not for lack of trying. But see, I couldn’t have whipped out that progression if I weren’t aware that one definition of “spike” is “to add alcohol to”, or of the common shtick in stories of spiked punch like at high school proms typically, or knew about the existence of spiked gauntlets / old school armor. 

And I guarantee you that a good chunk of people didn’t really “get it”, and just thought “Nash Be Nashin’, that nutty gal”. So they “get it” on that level, but don’t Get. It., if you see what I’m saying. And that’s fine. Maybe it got something cranking in the back of their mind and it’ll hit ‘em in the middle of the night, or they’ll be watching Game of Thrones or something, see a gauntlet and be like “Oh goddamnit, I just got a throw-a-way one-liner from three years ago” and have a chuckle.

Related, re: looking stuff up and things that people “get”? I didn’t know fuck-all about Twilight, but it seemed of import to the folks around 5 years younger than me, the Nashlings wouldn’t shut up about it, so I got a good working knowledge of it. Same with Harry Potter, and through it I got to “know” J.K. Rowling, who I find to be an exceptional writer, so that was great, and I’ve watched the movies for the most part over the years at Christmastime, and I don’t give the first shit about what “house” I’m in, nor do I care about what Patronus I’d fart, but I have a working knowledge of what those are, and horcruxes and who Snape and Voldie are, you get my point. I can keep up. But to do it, I had to take the time to look it up. One thing I would not trade for gold is Michael Sheen chewing the goddamn scenery in that battle segment from the last Twilight movie. Have I watched the movie? No. But that scene is the shit. And that baby CGI is horrific on several subtle levels. And not-so-subtle. I’ve digressed.

Back to those notes: So if you’ve got these notes jotted, you might see something else and think “I feel like that could’ve been snappier…. why do I think that….” And you’ve got a resource at your disposal, that little notebook. Hell, jot that thing down - things you think could be done better. I have in many documents a highlight around chunks of scenes for my big dog story where it says in bold above or below “DO BETTER”. Meaning: there’s a better way to get from A to B, but I’m just not quite there yet. I’m pretty quick on the uptake and can crank out something snappy on the fly (like say, in CASPN chat or when banging out a short reply or thank you note) but there’s definitely times I gotta slap a DO BETTER on it and walk away til that snappy something-or-other light bulb goes off. 

Here’s a recent one where I backtracked, matter of fact - that noir spoof thing I wrote? Along with my co-writer, Moscato? There was a line that I couldn’t hit with a good zinger, so I just said moments were going by like a fat hamster on a wheel, which is cute, but not really grooving with the setting/the vibe. Less tipsy, when I was correcting some inelegant formatting and a misspelling [sigh], I went “Oh! Why didn’t this occur to me last night? Right. Wine.” So the line is now about moments dragging like a rolling donut with a copper on its tail. Get it? The cop’s a fat ass. The donut-cop stereotype.

…….Fine, it ain’t my best, but it fits better. Moving on.

And this leads nicely into #4, and a specific tip I can impart - assuming you’ve got a passable-to-high level of vocabulary in your tool belt, practice messing around with making nouns into verbs, and twisting random stuff into descriptors and using bizarre words/things in metaphors/analogies. Like, I say “adulting” quite a bit. Ali - @littlegreenplasticsoldier - I thiiiink was writing recently about Sam being drunk, and he’s a tall wobbly Jenga tower on his last Jenga. Going back to the noir, pulpy detective style, try messing with the whole “S/he was like a ___ that ____”. Add on to stuff that’s well known - He was like a dog with a bone, if the bone was a ____ and he was a ____ and we were in a ____. (I have *nothing* in mind to fill those blanks, by the way, feel free to twist it into sumpin’)

What else…. okay, here’s a #5: In drafts, let yourself wander, and see what kicks out. It can be fueled by silliness or anger, but I don’t reckon you’re gonna get the “snappy” you’re aiming for if you’re down in the dumps and going full-court-press angst. The best stuff, IMO, comes from the space in between goofy and pissed, and that is The Land Of Snark. You can always re-style it to bend more dry or wistful should you need to, certainly, depending on the situation.

Have a sample of a primo Nash Digression that was fueled by ire in a recap from Season 12 (episode 19). I had said - RE: the random inclusion of the character Joshua, which still pisses me off because they burned a character that held massive potential for future stuff as he’d been shown to be the only angel with direct access to Chuck, so, y’know, that could never come in handy, like ever again in the series, right? - the following.

Mandatory pre-emptive #fuck Dabb

[Spongebob narrator voice] A few moments later —> 

On god, I have no idea where that came from, and here’s where we go back to ol’ Spidey up there, because end of the day?

All that other stuff’s the foundation, sure, but there’s always gonna be the weird iggy, the thing that can’t be learned or taught, whatever the quirky synapse is that fires off in my/our brains. In my experience, it’s an ADD-ish sort of jam mixed with the Nostradamus effect. Meaning, (A) we’re at Level 10, rapid fire thought processing >50% of the time, and (B) throw out enough stuff for long enough, some of it’s going to stick. And I whiff it plenty. Multiple times in CASPN chat I’ve been like “Whoo, tough room” when something falls flat.

A specific example: @mrswhozeewhatsis - and I think you saw this, but anyone else seeing this may not have - gave probably the most fantastic analogy I’ve seen regarding the whole “getting it” thing, and while it was on the topic of meaty plots that get too far into the weeds (my specialty) and how it can lessen appeal to a broader audience, it still applies here. 

She said “Sometimes, when I’m reading something of yours, I feel like there’s a joke I’m missing. It’s like watching Spaceballs without having seen Star Wars.” I say that to say - nobody’s gonna land references that cover the spread 100% of the time. And, y’know, fine. I figure maybe it’ll prompt someone to do a quick google for - well, let’s use Spaceballs. Most folks will no doubt get the Star Wars part, but maybe not Spaceballs. Maybe they’ll check it out, find something they enjoy. Or learn a new word. Or get a brainstorm for a story. Who knows?

Last tip: Don’t actively mimic anyone’s style. Much fail. And I don’t only mean because if they’re on a social Venn diagram with you, would likely recognize themselves in your stuff——

Takes a moment to wave to the peeps still trying with me! #bless your hearts

—–but because it’s fucking hard. I did it broadly on the noir thing, that’s not a hard thing, to homage generalities, but the way I’m messing with doing this on that silly Princess Bride series? Purposefully styling it like Goldman? It’s good  challenging and all, and it is making it feel more in the groove with the book/movie, but I have to be in the right frame of mind or it’s like fingernails on a chalkboard, and when I have pushed it, then gone back, it’s sloggy, soggy garbage.

I say all that to say: it’s an amalgam of brain-wiring/personality, and world/life perspective(s), and knowledge acquired over time. The first just is; the second will evolve in myriad ways, maybe for the better, maybe for the worse; the last is the one where you/we have control, we can fill bucket after bucket of information, and the well won’t ever run dry.

Sorry this took so long. I kept adding and subtracting. This is the edited version, if you can believe it. Welcome to Nash Brain. 😉