#also when i say christine from poto i mean book christine. she is the real unhinged girly god bless

[iveneverbeenmorestressedinmylife]

I really want to know how you feel about Reagan, unless I covered you

Nothing but respect for MY president <33

[jackcinephile]

LO Fans: "I love Lore Olympus because it deals with serious themes, like sexual assault, abuse, gaslighting, trauma, and mental health issues!"

Me, who spent my life discovering and obsessing over masterpieces like this:

"You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that to impress me."

Yeah, I never understood that kind of praise. For one thing, people act like LO is groundbreaking for that reason, despite there being countless movies, books, tv shows, comics, and video games that also deal with the same themes. That isn't to say there can't be more stories like this, however. I, for one, am begging for another video game that comes close to the emotional resonance of Silent Hill 2, or for a faithful adaptation of Dracula and/or Phantom of the Opera, or for a horror movie as unsettling as The Howling! But to say any new story that deals with these themes is unique for doing so, is just simply not true. Lore Olympus is no more unique than any of these stories. Also, I don't understand the praise that Lore Olympus is great just by virtue of having these themes in the first place. Just because a story has serious themes, doesn't automatically make it good. Far too often does LO use its themes as a crutch for a plot that is standard issue among romances, as opposed to stories like The Howling, which has a very intriguing, outlandish plot that serves as a catalyst to explore themes of very real and relatable horror. Lore Olympus, without its intense themes, is just another story about the CEO falling in love with his intern. And don't get me wrong, I LOVE those kinds of stories, but Lore Olympus just doesn't really do it for me. And the poorly executed themes just hamper it even further for me.

If it wasn't already apparent, has anyone noticed a pattern between these titles? All but one are horror stories. In my opinion, that is one of the key differences between them and LO: Horror! The themes within, are ones that illicit terror, and the stories reflect that (even Phantom of the Opera--don't listen to anyone who says it's a romance). Starting with Dracula, one of the scenes that horrified me the most in the book was the one where Count Dracula sneaks into Mina's bedroom. The book describes him slitting open his own vein and forcing her to drink his blood. Mina then expresses feelings of violation, much akin to what rape survivors feel. It doesn't pull any punches in its shocking, horrific portrayal, but it never comes off as exploitative. That's because the best horror stories rely on the audience's empathy. In this case, nobody wants to feel violated, so we feel as horrified as the characters do when we read about this grotesque event. And because it is about illiciting fear through empathy, Dracula succeeds where Lore Olympus fails. Lore Olympus, before all else, is a romance. And rape should not be in a romantic story. Especially not when the narrative of LO uses this trauma to validate the relationship between the two leads. I'm not a fan of stories that use trauma to validate a relationship between romantic interests, and I think that partly stems from reading the Phantom of the Opera.

If you ask me, Phantom of the Opera is one if the best books to discuss abuse and gaslighting ever written! Despite misconceptions generated by the popularity of the musical, PotO is very much a horror story with hardly any romance at all. And it's one of the best examples about why using trauma to validate a romance is a very bad idea! You see, all the conflict of the story begins with The Phantom and his trauma. He was born with multiple physical deformities that cause him to look like a living corpse. Because of this, he is despised and rejected by the world in order to escape the hatred of the world, he commissions the construction of the Paris Opera House, complete with intricate catacombs where he can live out the rest of his miserable days. Then one day, a woman named Christine comes to work at the Opera as a chorus girl. She is sad and alone due to her being orphaned, without a friend in the world. She too is emotionally damaged and the Phantom thinks this means she'll understand him. The trouble begins instantly when he claims to be a character from a folktale that Christine's father used to tell her. This is when the manipulation and gaslighting begins. Part of what makes this so effective is how we see it from an outside perspective. The protagonist, Raoul, is in love with Christine and we get to see his confusion and growing concern when he starts realizing Christine is showing signs of an abusive relationship. What makes the relationship even worse is the fact that Christine actually does understand The Phantom. So she doesn't run away not only out of fear, but also compassion. She knows what it's like to feel isolated and dead to the world and The Phantom uses that against her. The more I describe this, the more parallels I begin to see to Hades' and Minthe's relationship. Yes, Minthe abused Hades in much of the same way as The Phantom abused Christine. Notice how Minthe keeps convincing Hades that they're the only people who understand each other, even going so far as to say, "We're the same." The funny thing is, that's exactly what the narrative uses to validate Hades' and Persephone's relationship! It tries to establish that Hades and Persephone relate to each other and they say, several times, "We're the same," to each other. But this is exactly how Hades got stuck in a toxic relationship with Minthe, so why is it suddenly okay now? Relationships that use shared trauma to validate themselves are almost always doomed to become toxic, in one way or another.

So what about the healthy relationship in Phantom of the Opera? Well, it's kinda interesting actually. You see, Christine eventually comes to realize that she needs help, so she turns to the protagonist, Raoul, to get her away from the Phantom. Raoul has an interesting character arc because he starts the novel being pretty immature and kinda selfish. He doesn't really take Christine's feelings into consideration. It's more like a boy chasing his childhood crush (actually that's exactly what happens). However, over the course of the story, as he becomes increasingly concerned with her well-being, he learns to care more about her feelings and her needs. This culminates in the climax, when he's willing to crawl through hell itself for her sake. I bring all this up because I wanted to compare Raoul with Hades as well. Hades is a very consistent character. He doesn't need an arc like Raoul because, from the very beginning, he's willing to put all of Persephone's needs before his, to a fault! That is his entire purpose within the narrative of LO. He exists to serve Persephone. Raoul didn't exist to serve Christine. He had his own journey of growing and maturing. And Christine didn't exist to serve Raoul either. It bothers me that a novel from 1910 has a more well-rounded relationship than a modern comic! Actually, now that I think about it, isn't Persephone's entire character arc supposed to be her learning that she shouldn't exist to serve others? Well, that totally contradicts Hades' role in the story, doesn't it? He exists to serve her! I guess, in the eyes of LO, it's only okay if men serve women, but not for women to serve men. Newsflash: neither is okay.

Now Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931) remains, to this day, one of the most terrifying movies I've ever seen! That's all thanks to its brutal depictions of domestic abuse. So Dr. Henry Jekyll believes the solution to enlightening the human race is to separate the good and evil in our souls. He solves this problem by creating a drug to do just that, which transforms him into Edward Hyde, but he becomes addicted and starts terrorizing a woman who was once a former patient of his. I think what makes this so effective, when compared to LO, is one simple factor: Fear. I am terrified of Edward Hyde, but whenever Apollo shows up, I'm just annoyed. That's because Hyde isn't being used to sell an agenda, while Apoll is. Apollo is all about making a statement about toxic masculinity, which always bothered me from the very beginning! Being an abusive cunt who rapes women has nothing to do with masculinity! It doesn't matter if you're masculine or feminine, anyone can be a cunting abusive rapist. If you are a rapist, it's because you're a monster who lacks empathy, not because of masculinity. And if you think masculinity has something to do with a lack of empathy, fuck off! Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is not about toxic masculinity. It's about how drug addiction can often hurt other people around us just as much, if not moreso, than ourselves. It also doesn't use rape to validate a relationship between characters. I'm sorry, but that is just the laziest storytelling technique. When the antagonist is a rapist OF COURSE the male love interest is going to look better by comparison! But when you take Apollo out of the equation, Hades stops looking like a desirable love interest real fucking quick.

So yeah, I think Hades makes for a bad love interest. That's mostly because he's so much like Shinji Ikari from Neon Genesis Evangelion. Yeah, the one title from the list above that's not a horror, but is no less relevant. The thing is, both Hades and Shinji have a lot in common, such as hating themselves, having a bad relationship with their father, and not caring at all about their own wants and needs. Oh, also Asuka's a better written character than Minthe, but that's a whole other topic. What makes Evangelion work, in my opinion, is that Shinji's whole journey is about learning to love himself, while Hades is portrayed as being perfect the way he is. Hades in LO is like a flawless beacon of virtue, solely because he worships the ground Persephone walks on. But the guy just doesn't care about himself at all! Like I said earlier, Hades guilty of the same self-destructive behaviors as Persephone but he's praised for it, while Persephone is encouraged to look after herself more often. Compare this to Shinji, whose life only gets worse the more he neglects himself. The only time Hades does something beneficial for himself is when he breaks up with Minthe, but immediately after that, he starts devoting every ounce of energy to Persephone! All that matters is her! He doesn't give a single fuck about himself. Sorry, but that's not good qualities in a male love interest. In all fairness, this is a problem with the romance genre as a whole. Most romances give priority to the protagonist (in this case Persephone) while neglecting the love interest (Hades). It's why I have a serious problem with the entire genre.

Now what could Silent Hill 2 have that is in any way relevant to Lore Olympus? Two words: Nightmare Fuel. Personifying trauma as literal demons is one of the smartest ideas anyone's ever had, because speaking from personal experience, that's how it feels. I just don't feel like the trauma experienced by the characters in LO is a waking nightmare like it is in real life. For one, the characters' trauma only pops up when it's convenient for the plot. Like whenever Persephone starts experiencing ptsd, it happens when she's with Hades so we can get a scene with Hades cuddling her. After that, it shows up in a scene to make her look badass by confronting Apollo. No, just no. The Howling did it better too, by making the protagonist's trauma such an inconvenience in her life! I never felt that way in LO. When you uss traumatic encounters to make your character look like a badass, kindly fuck off.

[timebird84]

🎄 PotO Advent Calendar 2020 🎄

By @littlelonghairedoutlaw​

This year, the Christmas Season begins on 28 November.

That is the day Erik meets Doctor MacAndréis from the Department of Modern Irish leaving Costa with a Terry’s chocolate orange latte in one hand, and a miniature Christmas tree in the other.

Erik considers it best not to ask any questions.

MacAndréis gives him that grin he wears with just a touch of mischief, and winks behind his glasses. Then he is gone, and if it was anyone else then Erik might almost think he was hallucinating. But MacAndréis is MacAndréis, and is merely an eccentric like himself, and so this encounter is the thing that encourages him to finally cave and order himself a black forest hot chocolate.

He’s been putting this day off for weeks, but if MacAndréis has acquired a tiny Christmas tree, then it’s time to concede to the season.

Clíodhna will be delighted to hear it.

(He suspects she has her letter to Santa half-written already.)

*

The day Erik sits down on the couch and pulls Clíodhna onto his lap to ask her what she wants from Santa, it is 30 November and Christine has only just gotten Andriú settled in for his nap. He has just turned eight months old, and is sleeping better than he was, but she will not have him disturbed for the evening, so when Clíodhna comes rushing up to her, “Mammy, Mammy! Daddy says I can write my Santy letter!” Christine shushes her little girl so she will not accidentally wake her brother.

“Can I, Mammy?” she whispers, and it’s a loud whisper but Christine doesn’t have the heart to shush her again. She looks to Erik, still sitting on the couch, as if he is not the one who has just caused their daughter’s rush of excitement, and finds him nodding vigorously, so she turns her attention back to Clíodhna, and nods.

“You can,” she whispers, and Clíodhna grins, her blue eyes bright and shining, before she throws her arms around Christine’s legs and hugs her.

And then there is paper, and pens, and a very enthusiastic five-year-old sitting in her lap and demanding for words to be spelled.

Erik kisses her forehead, before he goes to put the kettle on.

“I met MacAndréis with a Christmas tree,” he says, as if that is the most sensible explanation in the world.

*

“And are you going to ask Santa to bring something for Andriú?”

“A dinosaur!”

The effort not to laugh. “I think Andriú is a bit small for a dinosaur.”

*

There is, as far as Erik is concerned, nothing quite like the experience of hearing ‘Daidí na Nollag’ sung by a five-year-old as she winds silver tinsel around a miniature tree.

He is not saying it out of any sort of bias, but Clíodhna is an excellent little singer.

He adjusts his grip on Andriú, who has somehow fallen asleep against his chest, even with the singing, and shushes her slightly. “And where are the réaltaí?” he asks, and Clíodhna points to the sky. “Sa spéir!”

Christine is shopping, and it is his noble duty as babysitter to look after both the sproggle in his arms and the beanie sprout who insists she is “practicing for my play!” with her bouncing dark curls.

She is an angel this year, not Mary, but she is determined to sing every song as if she were the star of the show.

“What about ‘Silent Night’ next?” something quieter than another thrilling rendition of ‘Daidí na Nollag’.

She bobs her head, and finds a small star to set on top of the little tree.

“Siii-lent night…”

*

When Christine gets home she finds Erik asleep on the floor, Andriú asleep on his chest and Clíodhna tucked in asleep beneath his arm. The floor is littered with tinsel and baubles, and there are two small trees sitting decorated on the coffee table. Christine snaps a photo of her husband and their babies, and then stoops down and gently scoops Andriú out of his arms. Erik snuffles, his eyes flickering open. “Are you long back?” His voice is groggy.

She smiles. “Only just. Wake up a bit, and I’ll put the kettle boiling.”

Time enough, later, to smuggle in the surprise she has gotten him, hidden deep in the car.

It’s a present for both of them, and she can hardly wait for the day to arrive that she’ll give it to him.

*

It is 5 December when he meets Éilis ní Cuana for tea. Éilis is MacAndréis’ wife, as far as Erik knows, but at this point he’s a little embarrassed to ask. MacAndréis wears two wedding rings and refers in equal terms to his wife (Éilis) and his husband (Seán MacAlisdair), and while Erik is certain that the man cannot legally be married to both of them, he’s reasonably (about 95%) certain that it’s a polyamorous relationship, like what John Henry has with Kate and Morgan, and that’s good enough for him.

Erik meets Éilis, today, for two reasons. The first is that she’s writing a hybrid-play about Terence MacSwiney, and he has been working on a score for it since the summer. This has involved not only reading what she has written of the play, but also making several trips to Dublin to read MacSwiney’s letters (the man’s handwriting was devilish) and raiding Christine’s collection of books for Items of Interest. This increased familiarity with Christine’s collection of books is the second reason he is meeting Éilis – he has no idea what to get his wife for Christmas.

This is their sixteenth Christmas. He feels like he ran out of good gift ideas years ago.

Fortunately, Éilis is a librarian and an archivist. She is a woman who Knows Things, and if his theory is right about the relationship she has with MacAndréis and MacAlisdair, then so much the better. MacAlisdair is a medical historian, and while Christine is a political historian, that means Erik and Éilis have something in common. Namely, loving people who make whole fields of study out of areas that seem boring to most.

(He has never found Christine’s work boring, never mind half the time he can hardly keep up with her.)

Éilis unwraps a ginger biscuit. “What’s her topic at the minute?”

“Underground resistance against authoritative regimes in twentieth-century Europe.”

Éilis blinks slowly. “And I thought listening to the prevalence of chloroform addiction among nineteenth-century doctors was a fun time.”

Erik almost chokes on his tea.

*

“You could get him a replica chloroform bottle...”

“You could get her a necklace with No Pasarán…”

*

How Andriú sleeps through their laughter Erik will never know.

*

Meanwhile Christine is in Tower Records on O’Connell Street, trying to decide what to get Erik for Christmas. She has expert assistance in the form of Clíodhna, who is very adamant that what “daddy would want” is an album of Christmas songs in Irish. Christine suspects her wayward daughter picked it because it has ‘Daidí na Nollag’ on it.

Considering Christine herself is tempted to buy him a vinyl of old rebel songs to tease him about his new interest in Terence MacSwiney, she is not sure she can comment.

Besides, the Secret Surprise she has gotten him will do that well enough.

(A replica Irish Volunteers uniform, complete with slouch hat, and she has half a mind to give it to him on Christmas Eve, when Clíodhna and Andriú are tucked up in bed.)

(“For inspiration,” she will say, “while you’re composing,” and she will kiss his cheek and he will go off and change into it, and when he comes back her throat will be dry at the sight of him in those high boots, that coat, the hat tilted low over his eyes, and there will be a touch of mischief about him as he will ask, “Are you going to search me for weapons?”)

She’s fairly certain he has all the music he actually wants, so she’s not sure why she came in here except that she always likes to when she’s present-hunting. That, and she wanted to show Clíodhna around. Clíodhna has gotten very interested in music lately and Christine has half-decided to start her on tin whistle lessons in the New Year. Christine didn’t tell her where they were going, only that they were “shopping for Daddy”, and when Clíodhna realised they were in a shop full of vinyls and retro tapes and cds and posters, she was struck silent for the first few moments, her little hand holding on tight to Christine’s own.

“Is this a real shop?” she whispered, and Christine nodded and grinned down at her.

“It is. And it’s Daddy’s favourite shop.”

And Clíodhna shrieked so loudly it almost blew out Christine’s eardrum.

She is resigned, now, that she will not find Erik’s present here, but no matter. Clíodhna is delighted with the place, and that is enough for Christine.

“Do you want to get Daddy that album?” she asks, and Clíodhna nods.

“Yes!”

*

Clíodhna is sworn to secrecy about her “present for Daddy”, and also about the vinyl of Taylor Swift’s folklore that Christine decides on a whim to get him. And when they go to a toy shop, Clíodhna comes back with a small reindeer teddy.

“For Andriú!” she says, and Christine’s heart swells.

*

They have dinner that Sunday with Lilly, and afterwards Erik plays with Andriú on the floor, rolling a ball to him for him to roll back, before Andriú takes a fit of giggling and tries to crawl away. He’s gotten to be an active little thing, and the next time Erik rolls the ball to him he throws it at the couch. Christine snorts watching the two of them, but if Erik notices he doesn’t show it, doesn’t even look away from Andriú as he reaches behind him for a second ball. That one, too, gets flung at the couch, and Lilly is grinning while she spoons the Christmas cake mixture into a tin. Clíodhna is watching very intently, singing ‘Away in a Manger’ to herself, and when Lilly almost has the bowl empty, she hands both bowl and spoon to her. “Do you think you can clean the last of it out, Madame?”

“Yes, Nan!”

The mixture ends up on her hands and her sleeves and in her hair, but she’s laughing as she scrapes the spoon along the side of the bowl, and the smell of the cakes is warm in the air, settling in Christine’s chest.

Warm, and safe, and like every Christmas she can ever remember, the evening dark and the windows fogged up, the echo of her father playing his violin… And it’s been more than twenty-two years, but the smell of Christmas cakes always reminds her of him, and she wonders will it be something that Clíodhna remembers, in the far-distant future, an evening like this, and the warm aroma in the air…

*

This time Erik is the one leaving Costa when he meets MacAndréis, who has a sprig of holly behind his ear and a gold ribbon tied around his wrist. And the man must be in his mid-thirties, but he seems younger and younger every time Erik sees him and this time is no different. He earns himself one of those bright grins and, “the new recording sounds great”, and he’d stop to ask more about what MacAndréis thought of the latest piece for Éilis’ project, but he’s due to meet Nadir in his office to go over his will. The annual updating, and it helps to have a barrister for a best friend, who can tweak these things without any hassle.

Not that there’s much to change in it this time, because he updated it in the spring when Andriú was born, but he likes to be sure everything is just so. It’s a little bit of peace, to not have to worry about that. Nadir has scheduled him in for an hour, and it’s a chance to have a chat as much as anything. They’ve both been so busy lately, between Nadir’s cases and with his lecturing and this play, never mind the full-time job of being a father, and Nadir knows about that too with little Aisha, and this is as good an excuse as any to settle in and have a cup of tea with him.

It sounds ridiculous, but he’s been looking forward to updating his will for weeks.

Next time he’ll talk to MacAndréis. Next time.

*

Two days later the weather is what Christine calls “Jack the Ripper fog”, and when Clíodhna gets home from school it seems as good a time as any to put up the proper Christmas tree. It feels more like November than December, but it is definitely December, and Erik settles at the piano, playing softly, while Clíodhna sorts the baubles and Andriú naps upstairs. The baby monitor is turned up and sitting beside Erik on the piano bench, in case the baby wakes, but all is quiet from upstairs and Christine hums along with the melody while she fixes the lights into place on the higher branches.

Last year, they didn’t put any angel onto the top of the tree. She was six months along with Andriú, and Erik was still recovering from the emergency surgery on his aorta, and they both decided it was safer if neither of them stretched to the top of the tree. This year he could put the angel on himself, or lift Clíodhna up to do it, but even though he had a clear scan only a month ago it still feels like too much to risk, so Christine scoops up Clíodhna and lifts her, and her daughter is heavier than she looks, but she fixes the angel into place and Christine sets her down again before her arms buckle.

“You’re getting big,” she says, and Clíodhna beams.

*

They’re promised snow, but all they get is grey slush, and this time it is Erik’s turn to take Clíodhna present-hunting. He still has not decided what to get Christine for Christmas, but he takes Clíodhna with him into the bookshop, and watches as she makes a beeline for the first book she sees with a cow on it.

“This, Daddy?”

Christine? Reading a book about cows? He almost wants to see it, but he shakes his head. “Maybe we’ll get that one for Uncle Al.”

And Clíodhna needs no more encouragement to push the book into his hand. “Hold.”

“All right, my lady.”

*

They come away with a book of photos of notable sculptures, and he’s beginning to think he might need to experiment more with presents.

At least it’s not another collection of Tennyson.

(There’s also a cloth book with different fabrics and pages that make music, for Andriú, and Clíodhna is pleased with herself for finding it.)

*

By the eleventhh it still doesn’t feel like Christmas but things are distinctly more festive than they were. Nadir and John Henry between them hung a string of lights along the gutter so Erik wouldn’t have to climb the ladder, and with the Christmas tree set up (and the two little ones) and paper snowflakes that Clíodhna made in school, the house is at least decorated. Lilly has supplied them with a Christmas cake, and Erik’s mother Marina has promised them a Christmas pudding when she arrives closer to the day itself. Uncle Al has sent them a box of mince pies that a “good friend” of his made, and Erik suspects that his dear old uncle has found himself a boyfriend that he’s keeping under wraps. Erik would die of embarrassment if he suggested it to him, but he mentions it to John Henry who laughs and claps and says, “good on the old man”, and Erik knows Al will be bombarded with questions when he, too, arrives at Christmas.

They haven’t made it down to Sligo since the Halloween midterm, but Erik knows Clíodhna is excited to see her granny and granduncle and “grandad Bill” again.

(It will never not be wild for Erik to hear his stepfather called “grandad Bill.”)

*

It is when Christine is having coffee with Seán MacAlisdair that it occurs to her what might be nice to get Erik for Christmas.

She had questions for MacAlisdair about how bullet wounds might be treated by fugitives in the 1920s, and as he wrote out some suggestions of sources to check he mentioned offhand that he had gotten a pocket watch for “Ruairí”. It took her just a moment to remember that Ruairí is in fact MacAndréis, and by then MacAlisdair was telling her about the engraving he’d gotten put on the inside of the watch.

“I arise from dreams of thee,” he says, and smiles, “it’s his favourite Shelley poem.” And then he laughs. “I’d have had it translated into Irish for him but I was afraid it would lose its cadence.”

“I’m sure he’ll be delighted with it.”

“I reckon he will. And there was a dealer selling original newspapers from October 1920, so I got them for Éilis…”

And she lets him talk, but all the times she’s wondering what sort of engraving she could get put on a pocket watch.

*

On the day that Erik and Christine head to Dublin to get gifts for Clíodhna and Andriú, the “Santa gifts”, John Henry and Kate are left in charge of the “two beans” as John Henry calls them. Morgan is delayed at a conference in London, but he’ll be home in a few days, and Erik intends to pick out a fancy bottle of wine for him.

In hindsight, perhaps it would have been better not to have left the shopping until the two weeks before the day itself, but it’s never felt right to Erik to start Christmas shopping in November and frankly he isn’t keen on how terribly capitalistic the whole holiday has become. He knows Christine feels the same, and that’s why they prefer to buy Irish-made from small businesses as opposed to anything else. There are only so many places around Maynooth, and to be fair they do have a few nice bits gathered up, and so the trip to Dublin is to put the finishing touches to the gift gathering, and to spend the day with each other, without a wriggling eight-and-a-half month old and an excitable five year old. And there are crowds of people but it’s quiet, walking down the street holding Christine’s hand, the faint touch of frost on his nose, her fingers warm threaded through his.

They stop for hot chocolate, with cream and cinnamon, and he kisses the taste of it off her lips as she smiles into his mouth, and it’s almost like they are students again, hardly knowing each other, only knowing that there was something there, something different than there had been before, and she smooths her fingers over the back of his hand and sighs.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, his voice low, and she shrugs.

“Nothing in particular,” but still she’s smiling, and this time she presses the kiss to the bad half of his cheek, and he cannot feel it beneath the mask.

(The mask is warmer than the make-up, in cold weather like this.)

*

Clíodhna and Andriú are both asleep by the time they get home, tucked into bed, and John Henry is asleep too on the couch, a blanket thrown over him. It’s not all that late, but Kate is the one sitting up waiting for them, and she smiles when they finally walk in the door.

“Did you have a good day?” she asks, and Erik nods.

“Very.”

*

(When Christine is out of earshot, he has half a mind to ask her what she got John Henry and Morgan for Christmas, but he is almost afraid of the answer.)

*

They set up a little Nativity scene near the tree, with the three wisemen and two shepherdesses (who Christine has named Meg and Jammes, and who she has decided are lesbians), and a whole collection of little sheep. There’s the traditional cow and donkey, and Joseph and Mary, and the little manger is left empty but when Clíodhna sees it her eyes widen.

“Can we put Andriú in the manger?”

Erik snorts. “I think he might be a bit big.”

(Andriú is mesmerised every time they turn on the Christmas lights, and could stare at them for hours. It’s bad for his eyes, so they only light it up sparingly.)

*

It’s the sixteenth by the time Erik finally sits down with MacAndréis in Costa. They have ridiculously expensive fajitas, and Erik goes for tea while MacAndréis has coffee. This time the man is dressed all in black which brings out how dark his eyes are, and if Erik were not happily married and very in love with Christine he might almost be attracted to MacAndréis, but as it is he can look at him and appreciate that he is a very fine looking man.

And it’s okay to say that, because Christine has said the same.

MacAndréis’ wedding rings shine bright on his left hand, and Erik might almost ask, but even now he hardly knows how to form the words. So instead he asks what he thinks of the music for Éilis’ project, and MacAndréis grins.

“That last one you did, ‘Bromyard’, for the wedding scene, I keep listening to it on repeat.”

Erik smiles. “I’m one of the pieces I’m happiest with so far.” I was thinking of my own wedding when I composed it, he thinks but does not say.

“It’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you, actually. She wants me to write a section as Gaeilge, and I was wondering if it would be a problem for you trying to score it. I’m not sure what your Irish is like and I don’t want to put you under pressure trying to get the meaning across. Like I could write out a translation for you if you want, to try and get the music right. It’s what she wants but that doesn’t mean we have to do it if it’s too awkward or anything…”

And it’s only then that Erik realises that MacAndréis is nervous. Nervous! Talking to him! This man who swans around the place as if nothing could touch him, giving off so much queer energy he could nearly put John Henry to shame, and he’s nervous!

It’s—it’s extraordinary.

“I—” Erik sips his tea and swallows. “Whichever would be handiest for you. If you want to write a translation then—then go ahead.” The thought! That anyone could be nervous of him.

He’s hardly that terrifying looking, even with the mask.

MacAndréis blinks, and grins. “Ah grand!” And laughs, “I know nothing about writing plays! Or music for that matter.” He nods at the cup in Erik’s hands. “Let me get you more tea.”

And like that, Erik knows he was daft to be worrying about his face.

(Old habits die hard.)

*

Christine collects the watch from the jewellers’ and it’s perfect. An ornate floral design on the outside, and when she opens it the engraving is inside the lid.

“Between the past and future tense”

16 Christmases

She closes it and tucks it into her pocket.

There’s a perfect place in the wardrobe to hide it.

*

They take Clíodhna to see Santa, and the whole way she tries to persuade them for Andriú to see him too. Erik has to tell her that Andriú is far too small, and she pouts a bit and grumbles.

“He’s always too small.” But then she brightens. “Can I ask for a present for him?”

Christine winks at Erik, then smiles down at her. “You absolutely can.”

* Clíodhna gets shy as they reach the head of the queue, and holds on tighter to Erik’s hand. It’s strange, with how excited she’s been, but Erik supposes it was bound to hit sometime. Christine is pushing the buggy and Andriú is asleep, wrapped up in his coat and blanket and hat, and Erik wonders if maybe that was why she was asking if Andriú could see Santa too, so she’d be less nervous.

He wants to scoop her up and hug her, his condition bedamned, but they’re through the door now into the grotto and Christine is right behind them with the buggy. Clíodhna’s hand slips from his and she rushes for Santa, who’s a black woman this year (they’ve explained to Clíodhna that Santa sends his helpers around to visit children for him and they’ll send the messages back to him because he’s too busy looking after the young reindeer), and all her shyness is forgotten when she starts chattering that she “wants a dinosaur and a cow and a baby reindeer and some books and a guitar and a surprise” and that she wants “a nice teddy for Andriú because Daddy keeps saying he’s too small for anything else.” Erik nearly chokes, and Christine is fighting a grin, and then there are two little packages pressed into Clíodhna’s hand, one for her and one for Andriú, and she is jumping off “Santa’s” knee, a wild ball of energy again.

He missed the photo being taken of her, the instant camera, but it is given to him then and of a sudden it strikes him what would be perfect to get for Christine.

She loves taking photos.

*

There’s a dress to buy and some fairy wings, for Clíodhna to make the best little angel. The dress is white and patterned with flowers, and while most of the girls will be going for plainer dresses, Clíódhna is insistent that this is “the best one, Mammy”. Erik grins at Christine and takes the buggy, telling her he’s just bringing Andriú for a walk, but she knows that look in his eye and knows there’s some sort of mischief afoot. No matter. It leaves her to focus on Clíodhna and her big pleading eyes.

“Okay, honey, we’ll get the dress.”

*

Luckily for Erik he knows exactly where to find a Polaroid camera. He cannot count how many times he has passed them on the stand in the pharmacy when he’s picking up his prescriptions. The Polaroid cameras, the instant film, and it is the work of minutes to pick out a nice small blue camera for Christine, and several boxes of film, both colour and black and white. Andriú is still asleep as he wheels the buggy up to the counter, and after he pays he secrets the boxes of film deep in the pockets of his coat. The camera itself he stashes in the pouch in the back of the buggy, and a mere seven minutes after leaving Christine picking through dresses his mission is accomplished.

(He does not know it yet, but the first photograph she will take will be of him on Christmas morning, wrapped in his dressing gown and wearing the hat from the uniform she will have given him, tilted at a rakish angle. His arms will be full of Andriú, shredding wrapping paper between his baby fingers, and he will not even know she has taken it, until he sees it, pinned to the fridge, and he will marvel at the fact that he looks almost handsome.)

(How she sees him, rendered in an image, perfect.)

He turns the buggy around, feeling inordinately pleased with himself, and wheels it back out in the shopping centre, with the good intention of going back to Christine and Clíodhna and seeing how they are getting on. The good intention, that is, until he wheels Andriú past the jewellers’, and out of the corner of his eye a shine of gold catches his attention.

He stops, and looks, and there it is. A gold necklace, with an ornate Celtic cross.

Christine absolutely deserves two presents for putting up with him.

*

“Are you going to search me for weapons?” he will ask, wearing the uniform for the first time, and she will get that gleam in her eye and he will know that she got him the uniform less as inspiration for him and more because she wanted to see him in it, and when her hand reaches into his pocket, she will pull out the necklace, and cock a brow at him.

“I think we need to search each other very thoroughly,” she will say, and grin.

*

When Erik returns to their side with Andriú and the buggy, Christine and Clíodhna are just leaving the shop. Erik’s grin is bright, and she knows he’s done something, but she knows him well enough by now to know it’s best not to ask him what that something might be. Instead she kisses his cheek, and takes back over the buggy, and listens as Clíodhna tells him all about the dress.

*

There is just a week, now, until Christmas. A week, and this week is taken up with all the last preparations. The winding up of the university semester, and Christine is still on leave so she doesn’t have to worry about that but Erik is busy organising his research students and the work they need to do over the break. Clíodhna’s upcoming play results in much singing of ‘Daidí na Nollag’ around the house, to the extent where Andriú is even gurgling along with it. Erik has completed the draft of another piece of music for Éilis’ play, and this one he calls ‘The Third Arrest’. And on top of all of this there’s the wrapping and planning that needs to be done.

Christine has designated herself the Santa Gift Wrapper this year, and her office is kept locked so Clíodhna will not find her in the middle of it. To entertain Clíodhna for a little while one evening, Erik sits her on his lap while he works in his office, and together they wrap the gifts they picked out for Christine and Andriú. He has both the camera and the necklace hidden away to do in his own time, but they do the books they bought them, and while he folds the wrapping paper into place, she cuts the tape with a safety scissors, and chatters happily in his ear.

“And what is this called in Irish?” he asks, to keep her on a flow.

“It’s a leabhar, Daddy.”

“Yes, that’s a book but what is it if it’s a present?”

“It’s a bronntanas!”

“Yes, okay, you get a sweet…”

And then he delegates her to carry the presents out to under the tree, where they will sit beside the ones Christine has already wrapped for him, and the ones that John Henry and Kate brought (and Morgan when he came home), and the ones from Nadir and Michelle and Lilly. A gathering of presents under the tree, and still the Santa ones to be added and the ones from his mother and Uncle Al and Bill. Every so often he catches Clíodhna sitting close beside the pile, as if staring at it long enough will reveal all its secrets to her, but she knows she must wait until Christmas Day before she is allowed to open anything.

What will it be like keeping Andriú out of trouble too, when he is old enough to have learned about these things?

Erik is not sure he wants to think about it yet.

*

It’s a damp day when Marina, Al, and Bill arrive from Sligo. They’ll be staying with Lilly – an idea that Marina and Lilly cooked up between them – and Christine will admit she’s a little relieved not to have to find space for them in the house.  She has not told Erik that, but she suspects he feels the same. For all that he’s delighted to see his mother and uncle and stepfather, he still hasn’t regained all the stamina he lost when he was so ill last year.

She prefers not to dwell on thoughts of it.

But there are hugs, and presents added beneath the tree, and the promised Christmas pudding, and Andriú is content to sit in Al’s lap and babble while Clíodhna does a “dress rehearsal” of the songs for her play.

There are five days, now, until Christmas, and tomorrow is the big day.

Clíodhna is so excited that it takes an hour of Marina telling her stories for her to fall asleep.

“She’s just like Erik at that age,” Al says, and Erik flushes to the tips of his ears.

*

And the next day Clíodhna makes an excellent angel, not that Erik is biased at all. He records the performance on his phone to remind her of it in years to come, and even with the round of applause at the end for all these little children, the highlight for Clíodhna is the bag of jellies she gets, and the fact that Christine lets her eat them then instead of saving them until Christmas Day like so much else.

Oh to be five years old and so easily entertained again!

Erik makes her hot chocolate as a treat, with cream and marshmallows, and tries not to laugh at how meticulous she is, scooping out each tiny marshmallow as it melts.

(A handful of hours later she falls asleep on the couch watching Shrek, and he watches as Christine turns off the television, and carefully picks her up, and carries her to bed.)

(These are the moments he will always remember.)

*

There is not even the promise of snow this year. Just rain and more rain, and two days before Christmas a storm comes so bad that the electricity is knocked out.

Andriú is crawling on the floor when it happens, and lets out a startled little yelp at the sudden darkness. Erik finds him with the light of his phone, and scoops him up, his little face damp with tears tucked in against his neck. And he shushes him, and whispers to him, and rocks him, and Clíodhna cuddles close, her eyes wide and worried, as they listen to the wind howling outside, and Christine rummaging for candles.

“Found them!”

They’re battery-operated for safety, and she carries them into the sitting room, and sets them up on the table, and in the soft glow they create Erik passes Andriú over to Christine, and pushes himself to his feet.

If they can’t have anything else in the darkness, they can at least have each other, and some music.

*

Clíodhna has wrapped herself in a blanket by the time he gets back, and he settles himself on the floor beside her, and lifts his violin out of its case. In the candlelight he checks it that it’s tuned, and Christine smiles at him, adjusting her grip on Andriú, as he takes the bow, and straightens himself.

For months he could not play it, while his chest healed from the surgery, and even now he finds the piano easier to manage, but on this night he will play for them, their own little carol service, and he is just a little rusty, but when he sets the bow to the strings, the notes come tripping back to him, familiar, and warm, and always ready.

Clíodhna tucks herself in against his side, and he closes his eyes, and lets the music come.

Tomorrow will be busy, in all the little ways that Christmas Eve is busy, but tonight they can have this.

*

(By the time the power is back, their babies are both asleep. Christine blinks her eyes open, and smiles at him, and her fingers are gentle, tucking a lock of hair back from his face.)

(He has half a mind to knock the power out every year.)

*

And then it is Christmas Eve, and Marina takes Clíodhna off their hands for a few hours, delighted to spend some time with her little granddaughter. While Christine preps the turkey to have it ready to go into the oven in the morning, and makes the breadcrumbs for the stuffing, Erik chops the vegetables, swaying slightly to the music playing off the radio. He puts them in water to preserve them, and peels the potatoes as Christine makes scones, and neither of them speak but neither of them need to, really, not then.

In the evening they take Clíodhna to Mass, and Erik is still not sure what he does or does not believe, but it doesn’t matter, not really, not when sitting there in the church with his little girl beside him he can close his eyes and feel the music around him, feel Christmases past and present and faded memories, and whatever about the symbolism of the season, whatever about the religion and the belief, maybe the thing that makes it important, the thing that gives it meaning, is the connection. The connection through time, through space, through the notes and the words and the readings, to all that is and has been and all that will be. A continuum or an ouroboros, endless, circling, moments and flashes and flickers like a web of spreading light, glowing through the darkness.

He feels it warm in his chest. The smell of pine and incense, the singing voices up in the gallery behind them, and how his lips shape the words to sing along…round yon virgin mother and child…Andriú smelling like powder, chubby in his red and green baby-gros, Clíodhna’s eyes bright as the sky, the red bow standing out in her black curls. What Christmases will she remember best, or will this be one of the first? A collection of little pieces tucked up in her head, and someday the smell of baking Christmas cakes might bring it back to her, the taste of marshmallows in hot chocolate, and he thinks of the little connections these things will make for her and wants to give her them all, to have them, and keep them safe.

He blinks his eyes open, a little damp, a little misted, and sees her watching the circle of Advent candles at the altar, and hopes that whatever she might one day believe, that she will always have these memories to look back on, and fill her with warmth.

Christine’s fingers are slender, threading between his, and he squeezes her hand.

The brush of her thumb is soft, and filled with promise.

[avaantares]

Imma rant for a minute. (This is me being critical of a thing, so if you’re eschewing negativity right now, feel free to scroll on past.) :)

Sooooo I took a break from replaying FFVII:R tonight (last night, by the time this posts) to watch the stream of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Love Never Dies, a show I already knew to be terrible (but hey, you can't argue with free musicals, right?). Long before the musical opened, I’d read The Phantom of Manhattan, the book it’s based on, and that was... like... Hmm. Think of a bad fanfiction you've read. I mean a really bad one, one that gets every single character wrong, has the stupidest of stupid fiction tropes, includes ridiculously contrived scenarios to kill off characters and weird medical "science" and historical inaccuracies and a totally implausible plot, all mashed together just to reinforce someone's OTP which was kind of an unhealthy relationship to begin with and got considerably more unhealthy in this story, AND it includes a lengthy author’s note in which the writer bashes the author of the original work his story is based on and explains everything that author did wrong and how it should have been written, using examples from the fic writer’s own work to demonstrate.*

Then picture that as a $24.99 hardback.

So I knew the general story already, and I'd seen a couple of clips from the stage show, and from what I remembered it was all pretty forgettable. But like I said, free to watch, right? Nothing to lose but a couple of hours.

Oh. My. Goodness. I was not prepared for the full experience. It's like Phantom of the Opera and Cats had a (secret) baby that got shoved in a blender with all of circa-2004 Fanfiction.net and then pasted back together by a YA fiction editor’s intern. Despite a truly exceptional cast and some strong visual and set design, it wavered between cringe-y and I’m-going-to-hurt-myself-laughing levels of bad.

Mind you, it’s still better than the book, in which (SPOILER ALERT if anyone cares, which you probably don’t because if you’re the type of fan who would, you’ve probably already seen the show) Christine’s son is not the byproduct of a willing affair she had with Erik after she became disillusioned with her marriage, but was conceived after he kidnapped her at the Opera House, and... let’s just say consent was dubious, at best. (IIRC she was “half swooning” and not entirely aware of what was happening.) Also there’s some nonsense about Raoul being impotent from a war wound and never having consummated their marriage... But broadly speaking, the story is the same as the musical -- by which I mean it completely negates everything good and symbolic and meaningful about ALW’s Phantom of the Opera, to which the book was as much a sequel as it was to the original Gaston Leroux novella.

Love Never Dies fails as a sequel for a number of reasons: Every character you liked in the original? Assassinated. Raoul, who was willing to sacrifice his life for Christine in POTO, is now an abusive, alcoholic wastrel who has gambled his family into crippling debt. Christine cheats on her husband with a guy who has made a habit of kidnapping and threatening her, and who has actually murdered a number of people. Meg, Christine’s dearest friend and confidante, is now a washed-up burlesque dancer who -- again, SPOILER ALERT -- tries to kill first Christine’s son, then herself, then finally succeeds in killing Christine. The broadest take-home message of POTO, that kindness and love can heal even the deepest wounds, is undercut by these dramatic character reversals. Even the show’s title anthem “Love Never Dies” is contradicted by the love triangle at the center of the plot. Maybe love never dies, but that doesn’t stop Christine from cheating on her husband, Raoul from walking out on his wife and son, Erik from threatening to kill Christine’s child if she doesn’t do what he wants, Meg from betraying and murdering her best friend... yeah, let’s not take relationship advice from this group. 

But beyond that, LND is just bad structurally. The Phantom’s opening number builds up to be a “Music of the Night”-style anthem -- a dubious choice, since it makes everything he sings for the next half an act feel flat by comparison. Then we go into a surreal Coney Island segment for a while, then a bunch of really awkward dialogue exposition gets crammed in, and then twenty minutes into the show we finally meet Christine and her family, which kicks off the actual plot. The pacing is uneven. The tone is all over the map, too, bouncing between Phantom-like operatic ballads and Jesus Christ Superstar-esque carnival rock numbers. (All of which, I have to say, the Melbourne cast knocked out of the park. The vocal performances were definitely not a weak spot in this production.)

While I really like a lot of Andrew Lloyd Webber's stuff -- I've seen a number of his shows on stage, some of them three or four times -- his titles seem to be hit-or-miss. For every Phantom, there's a Whistle Down the Wind. Some of that isn't his fault; a mediocre lyricist or book writer can do a lot of damage, even with good music. This musical had two lyricists and four writers, and it shows. But IMO, this is also not Lloyd Webber’s best work. Apart from the title song, which I’ve heard often enough to know it outside of the show, I can recall the melodies of... two songs? The score isn’t bad, it’s just not as instantly memorable as Sunset Boulevard or Joseph or Phantom. And a weak story plus average music doesn’t equal a great show.

I’m sure I’ve complained more than anyone cares to read, but I have one final rant about something that caused me to startle my dog by making some very screechy noises: When Christine arrives by ship, the Phantom sends a horseless carriage to pick her up at the pier. Mind you, this scene is specifically stated to take place in New York in 1905. The crowd of onlookers is utterly SHOCKED by a vehicle that moves by itself. “There are no horses!” someone exclaims. "How does it work?"

Apparently all four of the credited writers slept through history class, and also couldn’t be bothered to Google a photo of New York at the turn of the century. Automobiles have been around since the 1880s, and by 1905, New York had so many cars on the streets that the New York Supreme Court had to hand down a ruling guaranteeing that horse-drawn transportation still had the same right-of-way as motorized vehicles, because the motorists didn’t want to share the road. Heck, my own great-grandfather owned a car by 1895! Glaring, easily-avoided errors like this jar me so far out of the story -- even good stories, which this one wasn’t -- that they actually bother me more than other, more significant failings. At least do your basic research, people. Use Google. Grrr.

Anyway, I’m just rambling now because I can’t sleep and I'm on prescription narcotics for pain and my dog is tired of listening to me grumble. Don’t mind me; I’m not actually this negative in real life. 😅

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

* I am not exaggerating. In the foreword, author Frederick Forsyth bashes Gaston Leroux and gives examples from his own works to explain how Le Fantôme de l'Opéra could have been written better. Like. DUDE. NO.

That book went straight into the donation box the moment I was done reading it. When Love Never Dies came out, I briefly regretted getting rid of it, but then I remembered how bad the story was and stopped feeling bad.

[p-and-p-admin]

Interview given to The Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Shipping Fan Group.  (sharing here Admin approved)

https://www.facebook.com/groups/199718373383293/

Hello Ciule and welcome to Behind the Quill, thank-you for sitting down with us for a chat.

SS/HG readers might be familiar with your stories “Awkward” and “Headmaster’s Wife”. 

Okay, let’s jump right in. What's the story behind your pen name? Well, I sort of took one of my real names, swirled the letters around in the air with my imaginary wand, and I ended up with this. Can’t begin to imagine where I got the idea from... ;-) Later on, I realized that Ciule is actually a name in Romania. I had no idea, but there are people out there carrying this name for real. I guess I’m #sorrynotsorry?   Which Harry Potter character do you identify with the most? To be quite frank: No one, really. This is more about the characters I like, than truly identifying with them. I can relate to parts of some of them, but not the whole package. Primarily, I write about Hermione, Voldemort and Severus, and the one common thread between those three is the search for knowledge. That’s a trait I can identify with, but I’m neither an evil bastard, a grumpy protector nor a fretting, intelligent activist. I am, however, a swot. If you had asked who I’d want to be, the answer is clear. I want to be Albus Dumbledore. Though I can’t agree with the things he did, I feel absolutely certain that he’s the one who has the most fun during the books. I want to have that twinkling fun in face of absolute chaos.   Do you have a favourite genre to read (not in fic, just in general)? Fantasy! Definitely fantasy. While growing up, I read ‘everything’ in every genre, and in my twenties, I decided I’d spend my time reading what I loved the most. So, fantasy it is. Do you have a favourite "classic" novel? You landed me in an existential crisis right there. I mean, there’s so many to choose from! ‘Wuthering Heights’, I think. It hurts so good. Or maybe ‘Rebecca’, at least, I loved that when I was younger. Or the fairly obscure ‘Lorna Doone.’ When I was a kid, I wanted to be a film director, shooting Lorna Doone into an epic film. Oh well, there might be a theme in this selection of books which reflects in my writing… At what age did you start writing? The creative process has gone on since forever. I’ve told myself thousands of stories in my head, but rarely written anything down. At the age of ten, I had a co-writing project with one of my friends. We created this secret room in her basement, and painstakingly wrote a ‘novel’. It was fun, though the writing ended as it became too cold down in the basement during winter. How did you get into writing fanfiction? In 2009, I became completely obsessed with a TV-show in the last episode. I was watching the entire series, casually enjoying the murder mystery, and in the last episode, the villain said: “I can do the math,” and I was literally gone. That obsession sparked writing my first fanfic stories. Those stories are still on FFnet, but they aren’t any good. *shrugs* What's the best theme you've ever come across in a fic? Is it a theme represented in your own works? Compromise. The world isn’t a perfect place, and will never be. You can, however, make it more to your liking. It may not be perfect, but if you play the cards you are dealt, you might improve something. In Robert Jordan’s ��the Wheel of Time”-series, one of the characters goes through a test in a parallel universe of sorts, and she thinks: “The world was not what she wanted, not anywhere near it.” I loved that: trying your best to make things as you want them to be in the face of dangers and difficulties.   And then there’s time travel! I love messing with time, and there are so many great Time-travelling fics. Plus, I have to say I have a certain love for the villains...   What fandoms are you involved in other than Harry Potter? Currently, I’m not writing for any other fandoms. I read Star Wars, GoT, POTO and LOTR, and in the past I read Smallville. Though it’s more of a type of ship for me, because I only read Reylo, SanSan, Erik/ Christine, Lex/Lana and ….drum roll… the extremely small and quite oddball ship of Eowyn/ Grìma Wormtongue. If you’ve never tried the last one, go search for the fantastic stories by auri_mynonys. If you could make one change to canon, what would it be? Do you have a favourite piece of fanon? One change: duh, that’s easy, isn’t it? Severus lives. Or, maybe Dumbledore acting more rational, not keeping so many secrets. Maybe telling McGonagall that Severus is on the Order’s side… (Interviewer is laughing - ”NOT so easy”) I do write Voldemort wins AUs, but I wouldn’t want canon Voldemort to win. I prefer him to be more sane than in canon. My absolute favourite piece of fanon has to be the Black library. I thought it was canon, but it’s not. This is a thing that really, really should exist in canon! Do you listen to music when you write or do you prefer quiet? I’m very much inspired by music, and sometimes I listen as I write, but not always. Some fics are heavily inspired by music, such as ‘Absence’ and the last epilogue to ‘The Manipulation of Time and Matter’. What are your favourite fanfictions of all time? Definitely ‘Two Steps from Hell,’ by the amazing Ssserpensssotia, but that’s a Volmione. This was such a wild ride, I felt like I was on the edge of my seat, holding my breath the entire time. Those twists and turns were so unpredictable and … Well, I’m in awe. The SS/HG fandom is so massive, there’s a plethora of great stories out there. The unfinished ‘Self-Slain Gods on Strange Altars’ is a wonderful story by scumblackentropy, and I love Slytherpoufs stories, especially the wip ‘Ghosts’, but also ‘Angels to Fly’. And then there’s the one that got away - it means, I can’t find it. In this story, Severus watches the thestrals, befriending one of them, I think, but they’re unpredictable and maybe even dangerous. He’s heartbroken, and knows how it all will go down, having bitterly accepted his role. It made me cry. And then there’s the works by Aurette, and lena1987, Subversa, Kittenshift… Are you a plotter or a pantser? How does that affect your writing process? I need (strike that: want) to draft the entire story before I post, to have some idea on how it goes. That makes it easier to write, but if it’s a long story, I’m happy as long as I know the general direction. This year, I finished a story that was on an unintended hiatus for two years, and I think part of my problem on getting back into writing it up was a too vague idea for the ending.   What is your writing genre of choice? Uh. I don’t know? Basically, you could argue that I’m a porn writer, or at least it’s fuelled by sexual tension and angst. So, romance or drama, bordering on erotica might be correct. To be frank, I haven’t really thought about categories after I started posting on AO3. Which of your stories are you most proud of? Why? Hard to say. I might go with “the Manipulation of Time and Matter,” because I think it’s the best plot I’ve created. Besides, I managed to write Hermione having a relationship with both Severus and Voldemort in the same fic. My favourite “clean” SSHG would be the short story ‘Grimmauld’. Did it unfold as you imagined it or did you find the unexpected cropped up as you wrote? What did you learn from writing it? In Grimmauld, the house became a character. That was unexpected, and not something I had planned from the beginning. So the lesson would be “don’t start posting until you know what’s going to happen.” Or else, this story might have turned out very much different. I had to throw in a little made-up lore on how you set blood wards on a house too to make it sentient. That proved to be a quite chilling piece of magic.   How personal is the story to you, and do you think that made it harder or easier to write? I love old houses. Exploring abandoned houses, going inside to see what remains of furniture, tapestries and everything is so exciting. (It can also be dangerous, but that’s another matter). Such houses makes me feel .. nostalgic, plus I get those nice little shivers down your spine that is a little like a horror story. So, I wanted to use Grimmauld as a setting to explore that in a fic, to really dig into the aching loneliness of a lost house. The story came very quickly to me, so I guess that helped me.   What books or authors have influenced you? How do you think that shows in your writing? Big question there. Hmm, I think … it’s hard to say. I’m a reader, really, and I couldn’t easily pick apart any influences. Though I have to say that one of the things I enjoyed when reading ‘Two Steps From Hell’ was the attention to magic. I think it’s important to include spells, rituals and the use of magic in my fics, because that’s what sets it apart from a Muggle AU, for example. That’s an important part of the world-building.   Do people in your everyday life know you write fanfiction? My significant other knows. I didn’t tell him, but he found out for himself, probably by spying on me. When he told me, I almost couldn’t stop laughing, because he… erm, he said he had thought about reenacting a scene in my PWP ‘Twenty Points to Gryffindor’, where Severus shouts the title as he… well… you get the gist. If he had done that, I’d have had a heart attack. I would literally be dead. Instead, I laughed non stop for an hour.   How true for you is the notion of "writing for yourself"? Haha, so true. You spend all those hours in front of your laptop - and if I wasn't motivated by doing it for myself, I can’t even see how I’d force myself through all those hours. It’s fun, though. I do this because I love it.   How important is it for you to interact with your audience? How do you engage with them? Just at the point of publishing? Through social media? Very important. I'm on the publishing sites (visible interaction is why I prefer AO3 instead of FFnet) and on Facebook, mainly. I love feedback (as all authors do), and when people form theories or make comments, I get an insight into my own writing. I know how it’s going to pan out, but the audience doesn’t, and how they perceive things might be different from how I think it is. At times, it influences how I go forward, mostly because I need to add things, to explain what’s going on. What is the best advice you've received about writing? Don’t post until you know the ending, and remember: the devil on your left shoulder will be at war with the angel on the right side. Listen to the angel telling you to wait a little longer, and not to the devil chanting: ‘Post, post, post!’ In the end, of course, you’ll give in to the devil, regretting it until you’re done. What do you do when you hit writer's block? Read. Read a lot. And read some more. Has anything in real life trickled down into your writing? Certainly. I’m a foodie. For example, everything that Voldemort eats is stuff I love. His food habits are primarily mine, and I love cooking.   Do you have any stories in the works? Can you give us a teaser? It’s a short piece, maybe three or four chapters, with the title ‘Transference’. The point of departure from canon is during their time in the tent at DH. Hermione wakes up in a bed, in a room she doesn’t recognize, having no idea where she is, but she spots a large, moving picture on the drawer:  Feeling panic rising, she stared hard at the moving and smiling pictures, and her heart leapt into her throat, pulse hammering as she recognized herself in the largest picture. A slightly older Hermione, in a white wedding dress, kissing and laughing at someone who simply had to be a much younger Severus Snape. It had to be him: Long black hair, hooked nose, sallow skin - but then he looked so young, carefree and happy - expressions she had never seen on her dour Professor's face. Beside the picture, there were numerous cards, greetings and well-wishings for their wedding - the date an impossible 21 August 1982, and amongst the cards, the largest one stood out, the black ink showing an elegant handwriting: “Dear Hermione and Severus! Best wishes for your wedding, Lord Voldemort.” Any words of encouragement to other writers? Read and write, in that order. Don’t worry about trolls, because when you contribute something that you created, it makes you so much more than people spending their time just raining on anyone’s parade. You brought something new to the world, they’re just reacting to things. If someone accuses you of a self-insert, go ahead and lecture them on the intentional fallacy. I promise, you won’t regret looking it up. ;-)   And please, mind the normal physical limits when you’re writing smut. Unless you give the male a stamina potion or put him under the Imperius, it’s unlikely that his refractory period allows him to come five times in one hour. Realistic smut is so much more sexy, lol. Thanks again for speaking with us Ciule.

[ooc-charming-david]

A & U for the fandom ask game? :D

A - Ships that you currently like a lot. (They don’t have to be OTPs because not everyone has OTPs.) Friendships, pairings, threesomes, etc. are allowed.

Oh boy, I have so many ships. Like. So many. But don’t multiship, so only like 1 ship per character, and usually only like a few per fandom. So this doesn’t get batshit long, I’ll start with my current obsessions du jour:

OUAT: 

OTPs: Snowing and Frozen Swan 

Platonic Relationships: Daddy Charming, Mama Snow, Charming Wolf (Charming & Red), Grandpa Charming. 

Harry Potter: OTP: Wolfstar

Platonic Relationships: Harry & Sirius, Golden Trio, Marauders, Harry & Luna, Harry & Hagrid, Harry & Dobby, Harry & Remus, Harry and ALL THE WEASLEYS

And Miscellaneous that I’m not totally obsessed with right this second but that I will always circle back to (in no particular order):

OTPs: Elizabeth Bennet/Mr Darcy (pride&prejudice), Merthur (BBC Merlin), Fosterson (MCU), Stucky (MCU), Neo/Trinity (The Matrix), Jake/Neytiri (Avatar), The Doctor/Rose (Doctor Who), Legolas/Gimli (LOTR), Crowley/Azirphale (Good Omens), Link/Sidon (BotW), Jamie/Claire (Outlander), Victor/Yuuri (Yuri on Ice), Buffy/Angel (Buffy), Erik/Christine (PotO), and like... more but that’s what I can think of right now.   

U - Three favorite characters from three different fandoms, and why they’re your favorites.

Ohhhh good question.

1) Harry Potter

Sirius Black - Sirius has been my number one favourite character from any work of fiction since I was about 12. So like... over half my life. It’s almost hard for me to put to words why he’s my favourite, because he just feels so intrinsically tied to my heart. Sirius is good and brave and loving. He puts the people he loves before himself, always. First James and then Harry. He’s been through hell and he isn’t okay, but he’s kind. He’s cracked but not broken. I could write a 5000 word essay about why I love him so very much and how much he means to me. I have endless headcanons about him. Like. Endless. You know, he stayed in Azkaban and didn’t even try to escape until he found out Harry was in danger. He didn’t do it for himself, he did it because his love for his godson is so profound, and he had to protect him from Pettigrew. I just.... @ me some time for an essay about it. I won’t write more here but yeah he’s just... my favourite forever. 

Hermione Granger - Hermione got me through the worst time in my life. I’ve always related so very much to Hermione. I was bullied horribly in elementary school and high school (like to the point where I was escorted off the school premises by the police for my safety once, and the school board apparently had a meeting about my case. Like. It was BAD). And seeing how Hermione was so bullied, especially in the first book, and how Harry and Ron became her friends... I read that when I needed to read that the most in my life. In my heart, when I was growing up, I was Hermione, and when I had no one, I always had Harry and Ron. 

Remus Lupin - Goddamn I love Remus. He’s been through so much and has been ostracized for something that isn’t his fault for most of his life. He has a softness and a patience and a gentle kindness that I will always love him for. He’s such a wonderful teacher, and another parent to Harry. I want an au where Sirius and Remus raised Harry more than anything, y’all. Remus is just so beyond wonderful, I can’t even. 

2) Once Upon a Time

Charming / David - Y’all do I even need to say it? I love literally everything about Charming. He’s so profoundly selfless, loving, brave, kind, romantic, loyal... and yet flawed and real. He would do anything for his true love and his family. He’s the best dad and the best husband I can think of in fiction. He’s just the best and I love him with my whole heart. I could say so much more but I don’t want this post to go on for 100000 years.

Snow - Y’all know I love my Snow. Snow is strong and tough and brave, and yet she’s always forgiving, and soft in her love and understanding. She will do what she has to do to survive and to help those she loves, and even those she doesn’t. She has been hunted and tortured and traumatized, and yet always remains kind, forgiving and hopeful. I love her so very much. She reminds me of my late Baba, sometimes. My Baba was a holocaust survivor  -- her parents, siblings and best friend were all murdered (except for one brother), and she always said of the Nazi monsters who did those terrible things that she wouldn’t even slap their faces. Some people think Snow is weak for how forgiving she is, but I see nothing but strength in her. 

Emma - How can anyone not love Emma? She’s the one that started it all. She is her father’s daughter trough and through. She’s strong, passionate, takes no shit from anyone, and loves her family. Her relationship with her parents are two of my favourite platonic relationships of all time. (Also she’s a beautiful bisexual disaster and I love her.)

3) Marvel (especially MCU)

Jane Foster - LISTEN. I love Jane Foster with my whole entire heart and anyone who doesn’t love her can FIGHT ME. She’s a tiny fiery Jewish Genius and she’s the BEST. The first Thor movie is one of my favourite movies of all time. The beauty of a scientist falling in love with a God/Alien is just so profoundly beautiful, y’all. She’s strong and smart and brave and so very real and I love her so much. I am SO BLOODY PUMPED to see her become Thor in Love and Thunder. 

Thor - I fuckin love Thor, y’all. As you’d see the second you walking into my apartment. Thor has such a beautiful character arc in his first movie, going from a dumb, entitled jock to this caring, soft, kind man who saves kids and would do anything for his lil scientist soulmate. He is such a fish out of water, and he’s just such a wonderful, loving man and I love him SO MUCH. Also, his power set is just so fuckin cool, y’all. 

(oh gods now I have to pick between Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, and Clint Barton???? How could you do this to me, Becky?!) 

Steve Rogers - Steve is the character who I most relate to in the MCU, especially pre-serum. I, too, am short and have shitty joints and will always stand up for the little guy. Steve is a tiny hero in the body of a suped-up god. All he wants is to do the right thing, to help everyone he can, and to protect Bucky Barnes. Steve and Bucky are one of my alltime big OTPs. That man was ready to start a whole goddamn war to protect Bucky, don’t @ me. Also, as the grandchild of holocaust survivors, how could I not absolutely adore a man who beats the shit outta Nazis? My Hero. 

[centrally-unplanned]

The Phantom of the Opera Movie: How (not) to Adapt Your Fanfic to Stage & Screen

I recently watched the infamously-maligned trainwreck that is the 2004 Phantom of the Opera film adaptation of the stage musical, which lived up to its reputation! Rehashing the atrocious casting of literally-sang-for-the-first-time-two-weeks-before-filming-Music-of-the-Night Gerard Butler as the Phantom is well-trod territory, but I don't think that is the real crux of the film's failings. Instead, I think it serves as a quintessential example of the failure to transition from stage to screen - and how lucky the stage adaptation was.

For the "PotO" uninitiated, despite the endless shipping the titular Phantom and the female deuteragonist Christine do not have a romantic relationship. Oh the Phantom is trying to get down with that, for sure, but she sees him as either a ghost, an angel, or a terrorist at various points, never a credible love interest. In the original novel this is extremely explicit, and it is actually preserved in the stage adaptation - though as you realize with this film not intentionally.

In a stage musical, audiences don't really "suspend disbelief" the way they do for something like movies. There is one or more human beings, right in front of them, being real people in a wooden box with minimalist decour - the artifice is inescapable. Which is fine, actually! Instead of being immersed in the worldbuilding the audience can appreciate the craft of it all, the acting chops of the leads and the high notes they hit and the cool set designs around them. As such strong plots for musicals aren't really required; details are skipped over in exchange for focusing on other aesthetic elements. More importantly for our purposes, in a musical like Phantom of the Opera the audience isn't set up to expect a tight directorial vision, with instead the characters being the a product of the choices of the actors themselves - people even look out for the different interpretations different leads will bring to the same script. Each performance is itself an adaptation.

This lack of verisimilitude does wonders for the musical version of Phantom of the Opera. Honestly, plot-wise and arc-wise? Phantom of the Opera isn’t that great. Christine, one of the supposed leads, has no motivation for like 90% of run-time, instead being buffeted about by the whims of other, more powerful characters (just like early 20th century France ooooh, eat it Leroux), and Raoul, her earnest, wealthy suitor-cum-fiance, is the dried cement of love interests with no arc to speak of. Lots of plot elements are covered quickly and left vague as to their meaning. But really, who cares? You get to watch a tortured, corrupted genius offer a panoply of shadowed delights to a beautiful ingenue in a rock-opera baritone, and Rage Against The System so hard when spurned they drop a God-damn chandelier on the stage - that’s really all you need!

In the stage musical there is often - lets be honest very often - sexual subtext between the Phantom and Christine. But that is the choice of the actors, it's not in the script, it stays subtext. You are there to watch those actors put their spin on it and take it to the limit - let them have fun with the material! On stage it serves a great metaphorical function; to be tempted by music, by the mystery of darkness, has been metaphorical sex for so long it needs no more explication. 

Now, however, we loop back to the movie adaption, with two key points to establish. First, movies do not work like musicals. There is no live person in front of you, every shot is the product of a dozen takes and as many hours of editing choices, and as a viewer you are dragged along lockstep seeing the results of these choices. All of this is in the service of building a cohesive vision that allows the audience to fully suspend disbelief. The price for this immersion is that now every moment of the film is imbued with intent. Everything has to be there for a reason, the way things in reality are - or more accurately the way we want reality to be. To quote Best Girl Mizusaki:

(Just when you thought I was going to write a media essay without being a huge weeb for once, huh?)

What's true for animation is almost as true for film, all of which means that how characters act is no longer an actor on stage doing their spin but the cohesive narrative of a story.

Second, the movie takes all of that fanshipping sexual subtext and cranks it all the way up the nosebleed seats, while changing none of the relevant plot points. In fact, it adds plot details to strip away the musical’s ambiguity! One of Christine's opening scenes, only briefly touched on in the stage musical, explains cleanly that she considers the Phantom the angel of her dead father come down to protect and guide her. Later in the show, as the Phantom's villainy becomes more apparent, when propositioned by Raoul her only objection is to how the Phantom might hurt her if he found out. Well after all of his temptations, rage, and villainy, near the climax of the film, she still sings in a graveyard about her uncertainty over whether or not he is a literal ghost or spirit of her father. So the plot structure is preserved and explicit - Christine is drawn to him due to his musical talent and offerings of instruction, is unsure if he is even human, but realizes his corporeality, villainy, and fundamental pitiable humanity at the end. Raoul throughout is her explicit, engaged-to-be-married romantic partner.

So then why are her and the Phantom fucking??

Seriously, I cannot undersell how sexual their scenes are.They are all over each other, fingers gliding over skin, and the next scene after this one is her in his bed with sex-hair all over the place! This subtext is continued in every scene they have together, long after he has been revealed as a murderer. At one point he confronts her in public, with her fiance watching, and it's still played like he is the Tuxedo Mask to her Sailor Moon. Even the scene where she takes off his mask is shot like it was foreplay-gone-wrong, and the Phantom just forgets to say his safeword in time (This is why you pre-negotiate about your kinks, all!).

Any movie-goer understands what the intent of scenes like these are, why a director would choose these actions & shots; they want us to know that they are getting busy off camera, even if only by implication. We know they don't actually do that because there is a book to refer back to but damn does this movie want us to forget that...in these scenes. Which is the problem, of course - the rest of the movie operates as normal! In the above scene Christine thinks the Phantom is, again I must emphasize this, the ghost of her father; apparently she is going for the reverse-Oedipus achievement but no one told the rest of the script. Is she lying to Raoul about her love and her reasons? Is she actually tempted? Stop telling me you are unlovable via haunted monologues Gerard Butler, you look like testosterone on a stick and y'all boned literally five minutes ago, I am not buying it!

The subtext and the text are at war with each other - and given that, as we established, the dynamic between the Phantom & Christine is really the only interesting part about this story, strip that down to a muddled mess and you really have nothing left. And in a movie, subtext like this is just another form of text - the director chose these shots, it's intended. Beyond the terrible vocal performances and sometimes baffling shot direction, the movie's biggest failing is this schizophrenic mismatch between the script and the actions on screen which is a problem the stage musical honestly didn't have to worry about. These scenes are not set up like this, and the ability to add subtext by the actors is just fundamentally limited by the medium; it cannot touch the story itself, which isn't even the focus of the audiences. Even if these contradictions did exist more in the stage musical, they wouldn't doom it due to the nature of said medium.

Which is very, very fortunate, because there is one final point to make - Andrew Lloyd Weber, the creator of the stage musical, wholeheartedly approved of this direction for the movie. He produced the film, wrote the screenplay, chose the director, the works - this is his film. And, as is apparently from interviews and a...not fondly remembered stage sequel to the musical that he wrote, he ships the Phantom and Christine hard. Not in the "oh I love their dynamic on screen way", but in the Ao3 sort-by-fetish-tags "they are my Trash'' way. And I would never begrudge a man his ships, but apparently he was not content to keep it away from the canon. He absolutely reads the stage musical this way as well!  It's just one of those interesting ironies of life - one of the most successful adaptations of a book to a stage musical was made by someone who, in my opinion, did not grasp the fundamentals of the story he was adapting. We just didn't notice because the medium didn't care, and also damn can he write a score that slaps.

I would not be the first person to say that this movie for Andrew Lloyd Weber is something of a George Lucas moment for him, a creator completely missing the appeal of his own work; but after seeing it the comparison rang deeply true. The Phantom of the Opera movie is truly the Phantom Menace of musicals.

No, I don't feel bad for that last line, why do you ask?

[summerb4jc]

Phantom of the Opera: 1, 25, 32, 41, 45?

1.) things that inspire you

Well, there’s this post listing things Phantom has ruined for me that can serve a double purpose since that same ruination can serve as inspiration, but aside from that I’d say little things tend to inspire me, like walking through a thrift store and seeing an old locket, wondering where it’s been, who’s worn it, etc. can spiral into full fledged story ideas or scene inspirations.

I also like trying to figure out how to transcribe events from real life into my story in a non-cliche way. I mean...I know we all do that, it’s basically the point of writing BUT!!! A good example is recently I had, hands down, one of the worst dreams of my entire life a few weeks ago. Now, I’ve woken up almost crying, I’ve woken up wanting to cry, but I’ve never truly woken up crying like I did that morning. The beginning of my crying, in the back of my throat, is what actually what woke me, and as soon as I was conscious I was full on sobbing.

This was a crazy experience for me! And when I saw @timebird84 ’s Things I Dreamt Last Night prompt only a few days after, I was like “oooh, I gotta figure out how to get that feeling on paper.” After several false starts (where everything felt bleh and unearned and cliche) I sort of gave up, but kept the idea in the back of my mind, and started from a different angle. Afterwords, in a round-about way that actually surprised me when I re-read it, I’d managed to capture the feeling I’d been trying to convey. So that was a cool way to pull from life.

25.) favorite line you’ve ever written

Man, I’m stuck on the Things I Dreamt Last Night prompt tonight, but one of my favorite lines is when describing Erik’s hands in the tunnel:

Two small, golden fires hang in the air above me, and there is a sensation of something gently skimming my temples, cheeks, lips. An overwhelming scent of wrong, and of off, and of once there was a mouse that died in a cupboard.

32.) alternate title for The Private Letters Of Christine Daae

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Ok, so...I gave this some good, hard thought and literally the only alternate title I could think of was:

Phantom of Manhattan

Which...while it is Phantom...set in modern day Manhattan...will ABSOLUTELY not work since it is already the title of a different book. So instead, I’ll tell you where I got the inspiration for the title it currently has.

Right after the masquerade scene in the book, Raoul hides inside Christine’s dressing room to try and figure out the identity of The Man’s Voice. Shortly after he hides, Christine enters, sits down heavily, and says “Poor Erik...” (much to Raoul’s surprise) before pulling paper from a drawer and writing for several minutes until Erik comes to fetch her. Later, the Daroga gives Gaston Leroux a packet of “Christine Daae’s private correspondence” and I was like “what would those letters look like. What would she have written on those papers?” And that’s what gave me the idea for the story and title!

41.) one song that captures (insert story title)

I am gonna be disappointing here, but I am not great at song inspos. Like, I can see how certain songs would play out on film (the chorus of Home by Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros clearly needs to be a handheld shot of a girl with long brown hair full on running down a steep hill at sunset) but as far as certain song sticking out to me about characters...I can’t think of any examples where I was like “DANG! Christine??” :/

I do have this nice instrumental playlist I made on Spotify that I listen to when I’m writing, though!

45.) share the synopsis of a story you work on that you haven’t published yet

Hahahahaha, ok, this bad boy is...a very out-there sort of idea that I had the morning after finishing the Netflix show, but I do have a rough outline:

A few years after the events of the thirteenth book of A Series of Unfortunate Events, Violet has come of age and is in possession of the Baudelaire fortune. The orphans have been fully integrated into VFD, and are sent on a mission to investigate the strange goings-on at the city’s opera house.

So...essentially...an ASOUE and POTO crossover...it’s wild...perhaps too wild...but boy would it be fun.

[asktheprincessofhearts-archive]

AskingDescendants Task 002: About the  Mun

Name/Alias: Ruby

Pronouns: She/her

Which characters do you write currently?: Cora, Princess of Hearts (asktheprincessofhearts), (Spawn of) Sarah Sanderson ( ask-salem-siren), and Katie Norrington (askascarlettletter)

What got you into Descendants?: I had had a seizure and was feeling kind of down and mopey, and wanted to distract myself.  I’d read an article about Descendants coming out a few months before and ended up googling it and watching it.  I was okay with the first film, but I LOVED the second one. 

Favorite color: Red

Favorite food: Oooh.  I love spicy food.  Also Oreo cheesecake XD 

Favorite book(s) and character(s) from it: I hate answering this question!!!! um...I love Harry Potter obviously (favorite character being Hermione).  I also love Phantom of the Opera (with favorite character being Christine).  I love too many books to pick one honestly.  

Favorite movie(s) and character(s) from it: Bram Stoker’s Dracula (Mina), Titanic (Rose).  There’s a lot, but those are the two that I’m thinking of off the top of my head.  Also, I’m a musical theatre lover, so I do love musical movie adaptations (except POTO. I despise movie POTO with an undying passion).  

What’s the coolest thing you’ve ever done?: I’ve technically performed off-Broadway! (surprise!) 

Corazana (Cora), Princess of Hearts

Parent(s)/Movie: Queen and King of Hearts/Alice in Wonderland

What makes this character special?: Well, she’s my first character, so I’m sentimentally attached to her.  But I also tried to make her morally gray in some ways.  A lot of the “Descendants” characters almost seem over-powered in film universe to me (*cough* Mal), and I deliberately tried to write Cora with weaknesses and insecurities.  I also made her not magical on purpose.  What I do like, though, is that despite her faults she’s a loyal friend and utterly determined to get what she wants. 

How are you and this character similar? Dissimilar?: I realized AFTER I wrote her for a little while that Cora’s “slips” are sort of inspired by my own epilepsy.  Obviously, I don’t have violent psychotic episodes and/or homicidal tendencies, but the whole idea of being defined by a medical condition and being in fear of something happening to you at any time (that’s totally out of your control) is inspired by my epilepsy, accompanied by people judging you for it.  Cora is also very stubborn (much like me), and cares deeply for her friends.  Unlike me, Cora actually likes caffeinated drinks (I don’t), and she’s I feel, in many ways, braver.  Stuff that I am very reserved with or would take a lot of time deliberating over Cora just does.  This impulsivity is a big difference, and can have both positive/negative results. 

What’s the hardest part about writing this character?: Cora likes to get on a soapbox and rant a bit and when she does she can come off as snobby.  It’s also very hard not to write her as super kind all the time- I have to remember that just as in real life, people aren’t perfect; not everyone’s going to like her, and she’s going to have her moments.  So writing her negative aspects is more difficult for me, as is writing it when she’s mean to other people (even the Alice characters). 

What do you see this character doing in the future?: I really hope she gets to achieve her dream one day and become the next Queen of Hearts and ruler of Wonderland. I also hope that she comes to accept that her slips don’t mean she is inherently flawed or broken; they’re just a condition that she deals with.  And if she and Cole get married, I hope that they’re happy together (I think they will be- she may also find a way for King Candy to disappear).  And that Cora will someday actually be able to cook something for him without messing it up! 

(Spawn of) Sarah Sanderson

Parent(s)/Movie: Sarah Sanderson/Hocus Pocus

What makes this character special?: Sarah is my first “evil” character.  She’s struggling between the role she’s been told she’s going to fill her whole life (that of a witch serving Satan- that’s who “the Master” is, by the way; I just never refer to him by name as the witches in “Hocus Pocus” call him “Master”) and maybe being someone else.  She doesn’t quite have her own identity, and it’s very intriguing playing someone who has not only never developed their own identity, but never been given a chance to.  

How are you and this character similar? Dissimilar?: I did not sell my soul, nor did my parents sell mine for me.  I’m not a witch.  I also really like being friends WITH people who are nice to me, not for what they’ve done/can do, so the concept of “no friends unless they are part of the coven” is alien to me.  She’s also much more manipulative than I am.  We are similar though in that we both hunger for approval from our parents, and in some ways, may never get it.  

What’s the hardest part about writing this character?: Trying to balance her “meanness” and inherent evil quality with the little spark of light in her that’s like, “I don’t know who I am, but I wanna find out.”  I don’t usually write evil characters so it’s tough for me to keep her squarely in that category, which I really want to do.  I also feel super guilty anytime she says something rude (which is a lot). 

What do you see this character doing in the future?: No idea!  She doesn’t either.  I’m hoping she does find a home though and realizes that she doesn’t need her parents/aunts’ approval to be happy.  She can be her own person.  Whether her own person is staying evil and serving the Master or freeing her soul and learning different magic styles remains to be seen.  

Katie Norrington

Parent(s)/Movie: Scarlett (“The Redhead”) and James Norrington/Pirates of the Caribbean film series/ride 

What makes this character special?: Katie is the first character who’s an amalgam of ride and movie canon.  She’s also...like, completely, 100% different from me.  It’s a new experience writing someone who is so different.  Every time I write her I feel like it’s a challenge and I learn something new about her (and me).  

How are you and this character similar? Dissimilar?: As I previously said, we’re totally different!  She’s very confident, kind of entitled, and relatively fearless.  I am none of those things lol.  I guess you could say we’re both pragmatic, but that’s if you HAVE to find a similarity.  

What’s the hardest part about writing this character?: That we’re so dissimilar.  I never know her motivations or how she’ll react to something- often, the reaction I end up writing is different from what I think she would do.  It’s like she taps me on the shoulder and goes, ‘Hey, mun, that’s wrong.  I wouldn’t do that.’  It’s a novel experience. 

What do you see this character doing in the future?: I’d like to see her roam the seas somehow, though whether it’s respectable (like her father would want) or as a rogue pirate queen (like her mom would want) is unknown.  She’s new!