top five specific favorite colors
(like periwinkle or cornflower rather than just blue)
OKAY OMG YOU’VE GOT ME BY THE THROAT HERE (and I love it 😞😏)
1. Burgundy.
I’m putting this down as a ‘specific colour’ because when people think of it they often think of maroon and this thoroughly upsets me (although I do still like both)
2. Really dark pine green
3. Merlot, both the colour and the wine 🍷 (also yes it’s different to both burgundy and maroon pls don’t hurt me)
4. Picante
5. Obsidian
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Did Clary ever enjoy Vincent's company while in captivity? Or like, was she like "alright this isn't that bad"? I guess I'm asking for "stay" hopefully in Clary's captivity arc :3
she did. occasionally.
content: vampire whumper, lady whumpee, captivity
Clary misses a lot of things.
She misses going outside in the daylight, definitely. She misses her bedroom, her real bedroom, at home. She wonders if home is still home. Her parents always did talk about moving to Russia now that Clary and Cai were older and leaving the house in England to them. But maybe they sold it because it was too painful after she disappeared. Or maybe Cai lives there alone.
Both are bad. She isn't sure if one is worse.
She misses Cai a lot.
Today has been aimless. Vincent locked her in the bedroom after her last outburst. She kicked the door a few times, but she couldn't find any will to keep doing it after the fourth or fifth kick. All of the books she has are dog-eared from the amount of times she's read them. When she picked up a pencil and tried to draw, she just ended up snapping it.
When Vincent comes to feed, she's sitting on the bed, knees pulled up to her chest.
"Clary?" he asks, immediately. "Are you alright?"
She doesn't reply. She doesn't want to talk to him. She could never miss him.
"...Clary, if you're upset, just... tell me what I can do," he says.
"Oh, so you're in a nice mood now," she snaps, turning her head away from him.
He sighs, and sits down on the bed. "Stop being like that."
"How else do you want me to be?" Clary says, and her voice actually breaks. "I hate it here."
Vincent doesn't do anything for a moment.
"Fine," Vincent eventually says, and gets up. "I'll leave you alone then."
He reaches the door before she finally forces herself to say it.
"C-Can you stay?" Clary whispers.
Vincent seems to freeze up, and then his head whips around. "You want me to stay?"
"Just talk to me," Clary mumbles, staring anywhere but him. "About anything."
Vincent wavers for a moment, then sits back down on the bed. "Um... I sort of miss making daisy chains."
Clary can't help laughing, even though she's close to tears. "What?"
"It's stupid, I know," Vincent says, a small smile on his face. "But my brother and I used to go out into the fields in spring and pick flowers. He made the chains for me. He was too old for that sort of thing, obviously, but he did it for me. Now I'm too old for it. And I can't imagine it would be as nice to do at night time, anyway."
"...me and my brother did that too," Clary whispers. "Even when we were too old for it."
She can't believe the next words out of her mouth.
"We could do it some time," Clary says. "If you want. It would be nice to go out. I don't think it makes any difference if it's at night."
Vincent blinks at her, then his smile widens, just a little. "We'll have to see. I... thank you for offering, Clary."
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changes and trends in horror-genre films are linked to the anxieties of the culture in its time and place. Vampires are the manifestation of grappling with sexuality; aliens, of foreign influence. Horror from the Cold War is about apathy and annihilation; classic Japanese horror is characterised by “nature’s revenge”; psychological horror plays with anxieties that absorbed its audience, like pregnancy/abortion, mental illness, femininity. Some horror presses on the bruise of being trapped in a situation with upsetting tasks to complete, especially ones that compromise you as a person - reflecting the horrors and anxieties of capitalism etc etc etc. Cosmic horror is slightly out of fashion because our culture is more comfortable with, even wistful for, “the unknown.” Monster horror now has to be aware of itself, as a contingent of people now live in the freedom and comfort of saying “I would willingly, gladly, even preferentially fuck that monster.” But I don’t know much about films or genres: that ground has been covered by cleverer people.
I don’t actually like horror or movies. What interests me at the moment is how horror of the 2020s has an element of perception and paying attention.
Multiple movies in one year discussed monsters that killed you if you perceived them. There are monsters you can’t look at; monsters that kill you instantly if you get their attention. Monsters where you have to be silent, look down, hold still: pray that they pass over you. M Zombies have changed from a hand-waved virus that covers extras in splashy gore, to insidious spores. A disaster film is called Don’t Look Up, a horror film is called Nope. Even trashy nun horror sets up strange premises of keeping your eyes fixed on something as the devil GETS you.
No idea if this is anything. (I haven’t seen any of these things because, unfortunately, I hate them.) Someone who understands better than me could say something clever here, and I hope they do.
But the thing I’m thinking about is what this will look like to the future, as the Victorian sex vampires and Cold War anxieties look to us. I think they’ll have a little sympathy, but they probably won’t. You poor little prey animals, the kids will say, you were awfully afraid of facing up to things, weren’t you?
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something so fucked up about Chat Noir’s whole deal is that he is in a lot of ways Adrien playing a character. Like Adrien picked up his miraculous and was told he’d be a superhero so he was like “ok, time to act like a superhero!” and he lets himself have fun w it and play up the role and let loose and kind of just allow himself to be silly and goofy and have fun and for once in his life not care about performing Perfection™.
But. But none of the other characters KNOW THAT. So everyone just sees Chat Noir and is like “look at this guy’s ego. He’s so full of himself. Surely it’d be fair to knock him down a few pegs” without being aware of how few pegs he actually HAS. He’s like the “insecure character who overcompensates in ego” trope except he’s really not doing it unironically, he’s just having a fun LARP pretending to have self worth in his off-hours but nobody else is on the same page about it being a game and he refuses to tell them. He just dramatically pouts about it and lets them laugh and pretends like he’s not internalizing it and it is almost 3 am and my brain forced me to write this instead of sleeping I’m gonna take a melatonin
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