#and so it probably means a lot to louis at this point given his history as lestat's 'fledgling'

[shesnake]

was it a compliment when armand told louis only his coven can call him maitre, HE can call him by his first name. ha, I am still not sure!

tbh I'm more caught up in the insanity of armand saying maitre is a "coven endearment" when it literally means "master"

[pynkhues]

How do you think Lestat conceptualizes what Louis feels for him? Watching s1, especially with the context of s2, it really looks like Lestat genuinely thought Louis never really loved. I find the contrast between 1x1 and the latter half of s1 so interesting. It seem to me that without being able to read Louis' thoughts and with Louis' refusal to verbally affirm his feelings, he genuinely started to believe that Louis was interested in him physically at most, and then not even that (which must've stang especially, seeing how it can be argued that Lestat has a tendency to objectify himself and tie his self-worth to his desirability as a trauma response). We're really just speculating for now, obviously, but I'm wondering about your thoughts on modern day Lestat especially!

That's an interesting question, anon! Mm, I'd say that he must have known Louis had feelings for him at the very least before he turned him - he could still read his mind at that point after all, and they were courting for a year - but I tend to think that would probably have been a combination of deep affection and attraction more than anything else, given - - y'know. Louis didn't even know they were courting, haha. During their relationship - - I don't know, I suspect he probably pendulumed between knowing that Louis loved him, and having genuine doubt too.

Lestat's raised by Gabrielle to understand that love is something that's generally withheld, and depending on your reading of his relationship with Nicki, I do think that perhaps further entrenched parts of that. While Nicki can be generous, loving and affectionate, the way they break up with Nicki swearing he actually hated him all along and wanted them to die together in Paris would fuck anyone up, especially given Louis and Nicki have some similarities (although I don't think they have as many as parts of the fandom do, really, same with Louis and Gabrielle - I think all three of them are pretty unique characters).

Lestat's a chronic romantisier of his own history as a means of emotional survival, but I don't think he forgets much, and I imagine that the memory of his and Nicki's break-up probably coloured a lot of his and Louis' fights, particularly the one where Louis technically broke up with him before returning with Claudia (Louis, the disaster you are, ily), so in those moments - - yeah. I think he probably thought Louis had never actually loved him, but I think in the moments when they were good, when they were happy, he probably was unwavering in his belief that Louis did.

(It's kind of interesting to think about too that Louis did tell Lestat he hated him too, only where Nicki said it while breaking up with Lestat, Louis said it while getting back together with him, and I'm genuinely looking forward to those parallel gifsets in s3, haha).

I do think he took Louis saving his life as an act of love though, and I think in the long aftermath of that, both before the Trial and after it, when Louis chose Armand, it's probably the thing he clung to the most as reflective of that. There's so much that he feels - the cord between them, their hearts beating in time, the memories of the best of it all - but Lestat's also a character with just so much baggage (totally agree about Lestat objectifying himself as both a trauma response and a manifestation of insecurity, and that Louis no longer wanting to have sex [which is absolutely his right, and normal] was something Lestat took as a much deeper rejection than Louis realised), that I think can outweigh that sometimes.

So yeah, I'd say it probably varies based on his mood and maybe even the minute. A part of him knows, a part of him doubts, the only thing he can be sure of is that he himself loves Louis, and Lestat might withhold his history, but he rarely withholds his emotions.

[thetldrplace]

Sicily: An Island at the Crossroads of History. Ch. 8- Spanish Domination

The terms of the Caltabellota treaty made it clear that the Angevins had not renounced claims to Sicily. The Spaniards and French went at it again in 1312, but it was always half-hearted. With neither side particularly committed, its inconclusiveness sapped enthusiasm. The Sicilian barons didn't care too much since they thrived on war and were disinterested for Sicilian independence for the sake of indepedence. They're concern was with their pockets and they'd side with whoever bolstered their short-term interests. Some of the baronial families were: the Ventimiglia, mainly around Trapani; the Chiaramonte, around Palermo; the Moncada; and the Peralta. 

Frederick III died in 1337, succeeded by Peter II, who died in 1342. There was a Louis in there too... blah-diddy-blah blah. 

The Black Death arrived in 1347, and although we don't have figures for Sicily in particular, about 1/3rd of the population was lost in Europe, and we can reasonably assume it was somewhere in that neighborhood in Sicily too. 

Frederick IV (the Simple... not a nickname I would have been particularly in love with either) became King and inherited a hopelessly chaotic realm. The barons had split into two main factions: the Latins, led by the Chiaramonte, and the Catalans, represented by the Ventimiglia. In 1371, Fred the Simple went to Naples to see if he could resolve this, which he did, on condition that he pay an annual tribute to Naples. When Frederick died in 1377, he left no heir, so the Island was divided into four 'Vicarates' to be administered by the four principal baronial families: the Alagona fam would govern the east from Catania; Peralta from Sciacca in the south; Ventimiglia for most of the North, minus Palermo; and Chiaramonte in Palermo. 

The only daughter of Frederick, Maria, now become a major pawn among the princes of Europe. Hard to figure out why anyone would have been all that psyched about Sicily by this point, but they were. Lots of European royal families were busy marketing their sons to get married to Maria and grab on to Sicily. I don't know if she was a looker or not, but I'm pretty sure the artist who did this painting of her should have been killed for his efforts. Anyway, while that drama was in mid-season, one of the baronial families, the Moncada, were pissed about being left out of a 'vicarate', and kidnapped Maria. They shipped her to Barcelona where she was promptly taken off the market and married to Martin I, the "Younger", of Aragon. Martin decided then that Sicily was to be subject to him and invaded in 1392. Some baronial families welcomed him, presumably those that thought they could profit from his reign, while others resisted. He eventually grabbed enough control of the important areas, but large swaths of the island remained outside that control.  

Martin revived the parliaments, but they were never, uh, what we would call "democratic". They were basically just assemblies for the parliamentarians to listen to what was being dictated to them from on high. Martin died in 1409 before having children, so his Father succeeded him, but lived only a year longer. Yeah, it's unusual to have a father succeed a son, but hey, it happened this time. 

In 1412, Ferdinand was chosen as King of Spain, and claimed Sicily for himself. The Sicilians didn't object, were probably too tired to care, and figured the new guy would probably never set foot on their island anyway. But Ferdinand died in 1416 and in 1421, Alfonso V was named ruler of Sicily, while living in Naples. Anybody else feel there's just a constant cycle of names here? Yeah, me too. 

The 1400s were a time of constant money problems. Too much of Sicily was enfeoffed (weird word meaning 'given as a fief' or feudal land) to the barons. Alfonso, nicknamed the " Magnanimous", but probably NOT by the Sicilians...) stopped at nothing to squeeze as much out of the Sicilians as possible. In 1458, Alfonso died and his brother John II was given Sicily. Sicily seemed ok with the new guy, and only once, in 1478, when he tried to squeeze them for more money continue his war against the Turks, did the Sicilians stand up to him, because they had a healthy trade with the Turks and the Sicilians needed that healthy trade to not be interrupted. 

His son Ferdinand, who ascended the throne in 1479, was of huge historical importance. He was the same guy who married Isabella, and commissioned a rather insignificant event in world history: the expedition of Columbus to America. But just a touch before that, his pious Catholic sense commissioned another event. In 1487, the Spanish Inquisition arrived, which ordered Muslims and Jews to either convert, or leave the island. Muslims were already mostly gone, but Jews represented a large, and important, minority. Sicily's economy suffered big-time as a consequence of this declaration.  

Meanwhile, through corruption or neglect, many Sicilian lands that were technically Spanish crown territories, had become baronial estates. But Ferdinand wanted them back. A viceroy named Ugo Moncada was appointed to reclaim these lands. When Ferdinand died in 1516, a mob chased Moncada out. But while the Sicilians would occasionally rise and revolt, they lacked cohesion, as well as any positive or constructive ideas for what they wanted to build in place of what they tore down. 

When Charles V of Habsburg arrived in 1517, he was still a Dutchman through and through, which did not make a good first impression. But he was sagacious and shrewd. He did his best, but managing his own countrymen turned out to be difficult. Probably by now, the Sicilians were getting sick and tired of foreigners getting all the good government positions depending, the nationalities of which depended on the revolving door of nationalities making the decisions about their island 

However, it was another event that began to turn the page on the Mediterranean: The discovery of the Americas, and... the route to India around the African horn. The Mediterranean had been THE conduit of trade from East to West. But now, new richer markets had opened up in the new world, and the new route to even the old trade partners in the East, meant the Mediterranean could be bypassed altogether. The Middle sea had become something of a backwater, and Sicily, as always, was the loser. 

[rainbowcarousels]

Am I the only one who feels like whether or not the Devil’s Minion happened is kind of a moot point for the AMC universe when their characters are where we see them in the show? Daniel disappears into obscurity afterward but I’ve always seen that relationship as a huge turning point for Armand’s character. In a lot of ways it’s the first time he gets to define his own relationship and gets to build something that isn’t tangled up in his history with Marius or the Children of Satan. Even with Louis he’s still living with the remnants all around him. And, yeah, the relationship with Daniel is far from perfect but he’s exploring the world and learning an identity outside of those things. For the first time in centuries he isn’t playing a part and even though it’s messy he’s being himself and someone loves him. But the impression the show gives is that Armand and Louis have been together since before they ever met Daniel and remain together today, in a relationship that looks like it’s probably based at least partially on deceit. It doesn’t give the impression we’re seeing a developed Armand. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s exactly where he was in Interview, manipulating the truth of what happened with Claudia, the fallout still to come. Which means that regardless of whether or not they have a history the role Daniel played in his life did not happen. And I don’t know, these characters have been rattling around in my head for so long I might have blorbed so hard my mind’s built and transplanted in its own narrative tissue. But the idea of their relationship as a romantic tragedy that leaves them both permanently changed in ways that can’t be taken back has been cemented in my heart and mind for well over a decade in a way that permanently changed my perception of relationships. And from where I’m sitting it really hurts to see him literally playing a character for Daniel. Because what is all that silly stuff he does and drags Daniel through if not him learning to experience authentically?

With all due respect anon, I don't like the show and this is one of the reasons why I don't like it: I am a stickler for details and trying to be faithful to the worldbuilding of anything I read or watch. I've seen parts of the show, a few whole episodes but this just isn't for me.

If others like it, great, happy for them but it screws with the worldbuilding, characterisation, personal narratives and timeline enough that it's no longer recognisable to me as the Vampire Chronicles that I grew up on.

Which brings me to the point: it doesn't matter at all if devil's minion happened because it can't have happened, that's not Daniel.

Daniel burns with curiosity, he's quick-witted and bright and a morbid romantic. Daniel isn't making stupid queer jokes, he is queer himself. He doesn't mock Louis' pain nor does he behave like his therapist. He can be an asshole but he's not smacking anyone around. Daniel wants desperately to be given the blood, it's a key part of his narrative after interview and it's not even there.

Canon is meaningless when they're not bothering to keep to canon so much as throw in some canon easter eggs to their 1900s fanfic AU 🤷‍♀️

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

Do you have thoughts about louis actively portraying himself as a father? Obviously, we don't know most things that go on in his life but I find this shift very interesting. Totally okay if you don't want to talk about it.

Thanks for the question anon - I'd love to hear your thoughts. I feel like the most interesting aspects of this are lost in a fandom howl. I'm going to try and describe what I've see and what that might mean. (I want to be clear that this is not an argument about whether Louis is a father. An alternate explanation for everything I discuss would be that Louis is Freddie's father and is rebuilding his relationship after the forced separation of the pandemic. My purpose is to explore how people who believe that he's not a father might understand the current situation, not argue with anyone who disagrees).

I think the most interesting starting point is Louis taking Freddie to the arcade. I always thought the idea that this was 'meant' to be seen by fans made absolutely no sense (there's a Carly Simon song that frequently comes to mind whenever I see fans discussing Freddie). I think it's far more likely if he had spent time with Freddie at other points, and this one just happened to be caught on camera.

At the time I thought it was possible that such outtings had a really long history and we'd just found out about them. But now I wonder about something else. What if what we were seeing was preparation for what we're seeing now - Freddie feeling comfortable enough with louis to spend time with him? That would suggest that what we're seeing now was planned with quite a lot of foresight. (I think back to Louis going to LA after he went to Mexico as maybe a sign that this new strategy developed even earlier).

I would suggest that if we want to understand things that seem new in 2021, the best place to look is 2020. And there are a couple of really noticeable things that happened in 2020. The first is the Zombie rise of Larry Stylinson. There's all sorts of evidence of this, but a combination of lockdown and the 10 year anniversary meant that lots of people came back to the fandom, and lots of people engaged with Larry (either again or for the first time). Given that there had been a steady decline in engagement with Larry over a period of years, this probably had a significant impact on Louis' plans. Even more so when you consider that new Larries often have a different attitude to his fatherhood than old Larries, and are prepared to be persuaded with ver lit

On top of that you had the considerable attention given by fans, and taken up by low level click bait celebrity gossip sites (that fans then fed) about stories from Briana's ex that portrayed Louis as a not very good Dad. This has reached the state where radio hosts and other people who might interview Louis might read it.

In addition, if Louis is releasing new music this year, then he'll have to talk to people about it. Now parts of fandom has this ideas that all celebrity interviews are entirely controlled and I think this is overstated. Yes late night talk shows are unlikely to spring things on you, but radio hosts going live can, as can Guardian journalists. If Louis isn't telling an effective story about his fatherhood, which is a matter of public record, then he'd probably find himself in trouble.

So that's the pieces I'm putting together at the moment. There is almost certainly things going on that we don't understand (and others like Harry playing Tom, that might be relevant that I haven't gone into).

I think the most interesting aspect of this is the long term planning. I also think it'd be wise for people who are fans of Louis to accept that this is happening. He is the best decision maker in his own life and he's put quite a lot of time and effort into this.

As I've said before it's pretty obnoxious to follow someone you think is closeted, and then complain endlessly about how hard it is when they perform heterosexuality.

[sprawa-przybyszewskiej]

Ekphrasis in The Danton Case, Thermidor, and their adaptations

Ekphrasis is invoking a piece of visual media into a literary piece. It can be done for a variety of reasons, from entirely pragmatic (mostly grounding the literature in reality - if the invoked piece is a real piece of art, one you could find in a museum, for example) or more poetic (drawing some symbolic meaning between the piece of art and the idea behind the text).

In Przybyszewska's plays ekphrasis is nonexistent, at least on the foreground. I don't recall any clearly established visual, given to the readers by the original author. It's not weird in any way - how many pieces of medai do you recall which refrain from its sophisticated and additional piece of subtext and iformation? Hundreds, probably. The only other artistic thing that she has weaved into her plays is La Marseillaise, which is invoked twice in The Danton Case. There are also three book references to Othello, Orlando furioso and this one book Robespierre summarizes to Saint-Just when he's talking about hatred (but of which I have no idea if it's a real one - it probably is - or not). Other than that - nothing, plus the books count only a little, forekpfrasis should be, as I said, visual in nature.

Of course, the historical aspect of her works is what grounds them in our reality, and so cleverly, too (seeing as they're not really historical plays in any way or form, but manage to fool most anybody). And thanks to her extensive stage directions, we have no need of any additional element helping us visualize the scenes, for she does it perfectly enough on her own.

However, seein as these are plays calls for a mirror ekpfrastic effect and thus theatrical and cinematographical adapations are born. And they, on the other hand, have a potential to be filled to the brim with visual refernces. Here I would like to have a look at a few, which are taken from one of the most well known staging and the famous Wajda movie (plus some). In no particular order, there goes:

This is the very first scene of a controversial theatre adaptation of The Danton Case. Instead on portraying Robespierre as a firm leader, who only in the very end collapsed temporarily under the huge responsibility he now had to bear, the director decided to portray him as someone physically weak, not in the sense Danton meant when he called him a weakling, but in the sense of somebody who already bears so much responsibility, pain, physical ailments, doubts and whatnot. Just: everything, everythin a human could possible deal with, he deals with, and has to do so in a way that doesn't make people suspiscious about his "shortcomings". There is a interesting parallel between him and Saint-Just, whose upright and unbreakeable character is symbolised by a neck braces, something which people wear after a spine endangering accidents - and incidentally, wasn't it Saint-Just who accused Robespierre of "breaking his spine"? But not in this adaptation, oh no - here their very last scene is cut extremely short and they recite the last few sentences along with some Thermidor lines as two floating heads, a vision into the future which awaits them.

Enough about Saint-Just, though, let's focus on Robespierre and Marat. I must admit I know next to nothing about him, only what some passage here and there in this or that historical study might tell me, but I know, as does everybody, that he was known as L'ami du Peuple, which is why of the reasons, I think, why the director took this image and transposed it onto Robespierre: to make him even more likeable, to show for the umpteenth time that it is Robespierre whom we should cheer on and whom we should feel sorry for. This might also be a parallel between their both's tarnished health, their premature deaths and - last but not least - the role of an icon of the Rvolution both of them play in nowadays' audience's minds. You don't have to study history to knowwho Robespierre was, you don't have to study art to know this painting. Even if you don't agree with some more in-depth explanation of linking this person to this painting, it is a good opening image. It captures our attention in a good way.

I had mention Saint-Just and there he is, in the background of the picture, symbolically assisting Danton and his clique in their last moments. Instead of shwoign them in torn shirts, the director went into another direction altogether and enshrouded them in white sheets from heads to toes, making them all look like very stereotypical ghosts, whom they will all become in just a couple of moments.

In Polish culture, the first thing that comes to mind when talking about ghosts is Dziady, an old slavic tradition that is now replaced with the Catholic All Souls Eve. Dziady is no longer, apart from perhaps some small minorities who still practice old pagan faiths, but as a ritual, they are immortalised in a play by Adam Mickiewicz, undoubtedly the greatest Polish poet ever. Everybody know this play, some scens - by heart, and they were and are being staged pretty much constantly from one point on. Needless to say, they inspire a lot of art, and I decided to show this very fmous poster by the most famous Polish poster designer, Franciszek Starowieyski…

…who is important in this case, because he played David in Wajda's movie.

Not many people know - because his other carreer overshadowed by a lot his first one - that Wajda was a painter. Who actually hated his art, some of his pieces are in the national museum of contemporary art in Łódź alongside stars such as Władysław Strzemiński (the hero of Wajda's very last movie), which is a fact he absolutely detested. I dont know, nor do I care, why was that, because what matters is his previous education as an artist at the very least helped him not only to envision the visuals of the movie, but also acquainted him with great works of art. On which he could model this or that setup. I think it's a nice little detail he catsed Starowieyski as David, a real painter acting as another real painter, it adds a layer of reality onto the movie, and presumably makes for a more natural acting in the few scenes he was in his studio (I also think they look alike).

Speaking of David's studio, I once stumbled upon a lecture which drew parallels between some scenes in the movie and some paitings, which was mostly focused on character and costume design, and truth be told didn't contribute much to the overall watching experience of Danton. However, I must admit the lecturer had a very good eye in this one particular case, in which he pointed out that this quick shot in David's studio pretty obviously invokes the Fussli's The Artist's Despair Before The Grandeur Of Ancient Ruins. I don't think it's a coincidence (or at the very least, would be funny if it were) this shot is shown during the scene where Robespierre starts to grasp at desperate measures to save the country/save his own face in the trial. It is an artist's despair, only artist of a different kind. And it is a despair when being faced with a (possible) ruin of something great, even if its greatness is not yet formed, as opposed to the greatness passed.

The very last example I was able to think of was this photo I found of The Danton Case from 1975. It is one of those old, very classical (I presume) adaptations, which are mostly filled to the brim with riddiculosly attractive people and very often deliberately drew from other sources of artistry, like the one pictured above. No matter what the real relationship between Louise Danton and her husband was, in the play it is portrayed as something atrocious, and I cringe whenever directors try to make it something else without good reasons for doing so, so I am very glad in the past at least they stuck with classicaly depicted acts of violation against women, not because it is a violation, but because in the classical stories (like the myth of Persephone shown in the sculpture above) the woman will usually get her revenge. Just like Przybyszewska's Louison did.

Thank you for bearing with me until the end, and if you have any other examples of this come to your mind, I compel you to share them with me!

List of pieces of art in the order of their appearance:

Jacques-Louis David, The Death of Marat

Franciszek Starowieyski, Dziady

Jacques-Louis David, Self-portrait

Heinrich Fussli, The Artist's Despair Before The Grandeur Of Ancient Ruins

Gianlorenzo Bernini, The Rape Of Persephone

[yourfavewriteress]

right under our noses (part 1) | colton parayko

intro |

Teaser: “Are you guys seriously not going to tell either of us who the other person is?”

“Trust me on this,” Jayne said. “Trust us.”

You looked over at Alex who was seated next to her. “For some reason I trust your word right now more than hers. Do you approve of this person?”

“You know I wouldn’t support setting you up with anyone I didn’t think could put up with you,” He replied.

“Alexander,” You warned him. Jayne groaned, slightly nudging his leg under the table.

“She’s being serious,” She added.

“I trust the guy, yes,” He said finally with a roll of his eyes. “We both wouldn’t set you up to get hurt, you know that already.”

“What if this doesn’t work?” You trusted Alex, and especially Jayne. If they were vouching for this guy, you really had no reason to question it. But, your dating life had not been the best. You were consistently getting caught up with the wrong guys, ones that would play with your feelings just to boost their own egos. You were a strong woman, and always kept your composure. But, you were tired of always being in the background. And maybe this could work. It doesn’t hurt to try, at least, not yet.

“Then we figure something else out,” Jayne shrugged.

You sighed, looking down at your drink.

“What are you worried about?” Jayne asked. You looked at her and shrugged. Jayne didn’t understand why you didn’t see yourself the way she did. To her, you were beautiful, smart, successful (albeit in a terrible job), strong, witty and loving. You were a catch, and she hated that the men in your past made you believe anything different.

Alex loved you like a sister. Ever since Jayne introduced you at one of his team parties, he was extremely impressed at your competitiveness in the ongoing drinking competition and became one of your biggest cheerleaders, even against his own teammates. He also hated hearing about the guys you dated, because although you weren’t actually siblings, he would have loved to knock out some of the guys you had let into your life. And if he could get the chance to size someone up before they got the chance to hurt you, he definitely wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity.

Alex cleared his throat, reading you like a book. “You’re not desperate.”

“Alex!” Jayne said, slapping his shoulder.

“Tell me that’s not what you’re thinking,” He raised his eyebrows at you. Seeing you as his sister, he sometimes knew you better than Jayne did.  “I know you, Y/N. Don’t lie.”

“You have to admit, it’s a little desperate,” You mumbled.

“We all know that Jayne isn’t really giving you an option,” He laughed.

“You know what, why don’t you go upstairs or something?” Jayne suggested. Alex laughed, kissing her before turning back to you.

“Ever since we met, I’ve never lied to you,” He started. “I seriously think you have nothing to worry about. We’ve all been through a lot of shit together, and whether this works or not, we’re always family.”

“And, you’re never ‘lonely,’ no matter who you are, or are not, dating,” Jayne added.

“But, it might be fun to explore some other options that maybe you missed in the past,” He gently nudged your shoulder. “And, with our help, hopefully you won’t have to worry about the guy being an idiot.”

“Fine,” You breathed, sighing. “But, when will I find out who it is for sure?”

“I guess not until you have the balls to bring it up to them,” Jayne smirked.

“Are you serious?”

“No,” Alex said, shaking his head at Jayne. He knew that you might change your mind, “We just want you to get to know each other before we say anything about who’s who. Obviously, if you’re closing in on the wrong person, we’ll warn you.”

“I’m still not understanding how this is going to work,” You crossed your arms over your chest. “How are you guys so certain that we’ll both know who you’re talking about? I’m assuming you’re telling him the same thing.”

“That’s the point,” Jayne said. “It was kind of an epiphany for us, so we hope it’ll be for you guys, too.”

“I told her how much it sounded like a movie,” Alex said. “But, the similarities between you are obvious to us knowing both of you, but clearly not to you guys.”

“Can we just try it for two months and see how we feel?” Jayne added when she noticed your hesitance.

“In two months, you tell me who it is,” You ordered, pointing at both of them clearly.

“Sure,” Alex shrugged, but he smiled as he continued, “That is, if you don’t already figure it out yourself.”

****

“I don’t know, guys,” Colton mumbled to Alex and his wife Jayne. They had just finished their game against the New Jersey Devils and were on their way to their respective cars when the couple decided to update Colton on their plan.

“She already agreed,” Jayne said. “Just waiting on you.”

“Are you guys seriously not going to tell either of us who the other person is?” He asked, keeping his voice down so no one could hear them as they walked through the crowded hallway.

“Nope,” Jayne responded. “It’ll be fun and exciting, trust me.”

“What happens if I meet someone else before we figure it out?” He asked.

“Well, we’re going to hope that you don’t,” Alex responded, giving him a look. “But, we’d probably just call it off.”

“You guys already know each other, all we’re asking is that you just get to know the people around you. And, we’ll do our best to make sure that’s her without you knowing.”

“I find it really hard to believe that this is going to work,” He said once they reached the couple’s car. “But, if you guys are both vouching for this plan and her, I guess it doesn’t hurt to try. It’s not like I’m seeing anyone.”

“Yes!” Jayne exclaimed, hugging Colton. He laughed, hugging her back. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

“You won’t,” Alex said. “If it works.”

“Okay, I’m going to get the car started,” Jayne said, pulling away from Colton to give the guys some time. “Good luck, Parry.”

“Don’t disappoint me.” She shook her head, walking towards the door and leaving the two guys alone.

“What do you know about the girl?” Colton asked. “You have to give me something to go on, man.”

“Let’s just say that you guys have a little history,” He shrugged, smirking at his teammate. “Not enough that would stop something from happening now, but enough that you might remember.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Colton called when he realized Alex was done giving hints.

“I guess you’ll have to wait to find out.”

****

After agreeing to take part in the plan and allow your best friend and her husband to set you up with someone, you tried your best to continue your normal routine. If they were so certain that this guy was perfect for you and you would be able to see it, you planned on talking to everyone as normal and then paying attention to what happens. To be fair, that was all that you could do.

“Y/N?” You stopped in your tracks, turning on your heels.

“Aaron?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “What are you doing in St. Louis?”

“I’m visiting,” He laughed. “How are you?”

He walked towards you, immediately pulling you into his chest. “I’m great, how are you? Weren’t you just in Minnesota or something?”

“Yeah, for some business meetings,” He pulled away. 

“Wow, I guess you’re a big shot now,” You joked.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m such a big shot that I still drive the same old car. I was actually hoping I would bump into you somewhere. Do you maybe want to grab a drink sometime? Catch up?”

“Uh, sure, yeah,” You nodded, slowly. “Just text me and we can set something up.”

“Same number?”

“Yeah, same one,” You replied.

“Okay, then. I guess I’ll see you soon,” He smiled, waving.

You smiled back, returning to your cart. Throwing your bag over into the top part, you pulled out your phone, clicking Jayne’s number almost immediately. 

“Hello?”

“Please tell me the person you’re thinking of is not Aaron Nichols who I met at that freaking parade when the guys won. If it is, abort the mission, now. Over my dead body.”

Jayne laughed, “What? No, it’s not Aaron Nichols. Who the hell is that?”

“Thank god,” You breathed. “Because he just asked me out in the grocery store.”

“Well, our guy isn’t going to be asking you out anytime soon. We promised you a slow burner,” She said.

“Oh please,” You rolled your eyes. “So, have I come across him yet and not realized it?”

“I don’t know, have you?” She threw back.

“How is that helpful at all?”

“We also told you that it’ll be much better if you guys figure this out on your own. No hints, no telling you if or where you’ve seen them.”

“You guys suck,” You responded. “I bet you Alex has given this guy lots of hints.”

“To be fair, I did tell you that it wasn’t Aaron, which I won’t do anymore. You can’t ask us every time you have an encounter with a guy.”

“Well, why not?” You whined. “Am I really just supposed to talk to everyone with the possibility of dating?”

“Exactly.”

“You guys suck,” You repeated. “I have to go, I’m checking out.”

“I’ll call you later.”

****

Colton wasn’t doing much better, either. Agreeing to this plan meant that he had to pay attention to all of his encounters with the women that he knew. And, he knew a lot. Although a gentleman, Colton had had his fair share of partners. But, the plan limited the amount of options to women that Alex and Jayne knew as well, especially Jayne, since Colton picked up on how close Jayne felt to this woman. She was obviously close with Alex, too, who seemed to trust this girl enough.

“Hair color?” Colton breathed, running on the treadmill.

Alex laughed, shaking his head beside him. “Stop.”

“Where do I know her from?” He asked.

“I’m not telling you anything about her,” Alex said.

“Fuck, man,” Colton sighed. “I feel like I shouldn’t have agreed to this.”

“Why?”

“Because, it’s like you guys playing matchmaker for me and this person that I supposedly have a history with. If I have a history with them, maybe there’s a reason why it didn’t work out,” He said.

“People mature,” Alex pointed. 

“Me or her?”

“Both.”

“Well, what’s our history? Did we date?”

“No, you definitely didn’t date.” Alex almost laughed, thinking back to his warning that he was 100% sure Colton respected.

“This feels a little desperate,” Colton admitted. “Like I can’t find someone myself.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Alex paused his run briefly to lean on the machine, facing Colton. Colton did the same, catching his breath as Alex continued. “She said the exact same thing when we told her. Look, this isn’t some game show trying to pair you up with some stranger that you don’t know. This is, and as much as it literally pains me to say, one of your closest friends helping you find someone that I can genuinely see you having something with. I know what you like, I know what you need, and I guess I care about you being with someone that is going to be good for you.”

“Do you actually know her?”

“Yes, man,” Alex huffed. “She’s a really good friend of ours. She has a job, a life, her own place that she pays for with her own money. Independent, funny, but depending on your humor. Jayne and I both agree that you have the same annoying humor so there’s that. You said something earlier about not wanting someone soft? Trust me, she’s not. But, she has a soft side. You’re not soft, per se, but you have a soft side, too. She likes that. And, I can assure you, even though this is subjective, you’ll definitely be attracted to her. Now, that is the last piece of information you are ever getting out of me about her until time is up. Seriously.”

He let out a breath as he starting the treadmill back up. “Are you done now? Can I finish my workout?”

“That’s all I really needed to know,” Colton said, even though he really wanted to know more. “You just convinced me, not gonna lie.”

“Sounds like your dream girl, huh?”

Colton let out a laugh, “A little, yeah.”

“We thought so, too.”

[tlbodine]

A Horror History of Werewolves

As far as horror icons are concerned, werewolves are among the oldest of all monsters. References to man-to-wolf transformations show up as early as the Epic of Gilgamesh, making them pretty much as old as storytelling itself. And, unlike many other movie monsters, werewolves trace their folkloric roots to a time when people truly believed in and feared these creatures. 

But for a creature with such a storied past, the modern werewolf has quite the crisis of identity. Thanks to an absolute deluge of romance novels featuring sometimes-furry love interests, the contemporary idea of “werewolf” is decidedly de-fanged. So how did we get here? Where did they come from, where are they going, and can werewolves ever be terrifying again? 

Werewolves in Folklore and Legend 

Ancient Greece was full of werewolf stories. Herodotus wrote of a nomadic tribe from Scythia (part of modern-day Russia) who changed into wolves for a portion of the year. This was most likely a response to the Proto-Indo-European societies living in that region at the time -- a group whose warrior class would sometimes don animal pelts and were said to call on the spirit of animals to aid them in battle (the concept of the berserker has the same roots -- just bears rather than wolves).

In Arcadia, there was a local legend about King Lycaon, who was turned to a wolf as punishment for serving human meat to Zeus (exact details of the event vary between accounts, but cannibalism and crimes-against-the-gods are a common theme). Pliny the Elder wrote of werewolves as well, explaining that those who make a sacrifice to Zeus Lycaeus would be turned to wolves but could resume human form years later if they abstained from eating human meat in that time.

By the time we reach the Medieval period in Europe, werewolf stories were widespread and frequently associated with witchcraft. Lycanthropy could be either a curse laid upon someone or a transformation undergone by someone practicing witchcraft, but either way was bad news in the eyes of the church. For several centuries, witch-hunts would aggressively seek out anyone suspected of transforming into a wolf.

One particularly well-known werewolf trial was for Peter Stumpp in 1589. Stumpp, known as "The Werewolf of Bedburg," confessed to killing and eating fourteen children and two pregnant women while in the form of a wolf after donning a belt given to him by the Devil. Granted, this confession came on the tail-end of extensive public torture, so it may not be precisely reliable. His daughter and mistress were also executed in a public and brutal way during the same trial.

Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf? 

The thing you have to understand when studying folklore is that, for many centuries, wolves were the apex predator of Europe. While wolf attacks on humans have been exceedingly rare in North America, wolves in Europe have historically been much bolder -- or, at least, there are more numerous reports of man-eating wolves in those regions. Between 1362 and 1918, roughly 7,600 people were reportedly killed by wolves in France alone, which may have some bearing on the local werewolf tradition of the loup-garou.

For people living in rural areas, subsisting as farmers or hunters, wolves posed a genuine existential threat. Large, intelligent, utilizing teamwork and more than capable of outwitting the average human, wolves are a compelling villain. Which is probably why they show up so frequently in fairytales, from Little Red Riding Hood to Peter and the Wolf to The Three Little Pigs.

Early Werewolf Fiction 

Vampires have Dracula and zombies have I Am Legend, but there really is no clear singular book to point to as the "First Great Werewolf Novel." Perhaps by the time the novel was really taking off as an artform, werewolves had lost some of their appeal. After all, widespread literacy and reading-for-pleasure went hand-in-hand with advancements in civilization. For city-dwellers in Victorian England, for example, the threat of a wolf eating you alive probably seemed quite remote.

Don't get me wrong -- there were some Gothic novels featuring werewolves, like Sutherland Menzies' Hugues, The Wer-Wolf, or G.W.M. Reynolds' Wagner the Wehr-Wolf, or even The Wolf Leader by Alexandre Dumas. But these are not books that have entered the popular conscience by any means. I doubt most people have ever heard of them, much less read them.

No -- I would argue that the closest thing we have, thematically, to a Great Werewolf Novel is in fact The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. Written in 1886, the Gothic novella tells the story of a scientist who, wanting to engage in certain unnamed vices without detection, created a serum that would allow him to transform into another person. That alter-ego, Mr. Hyde, was selfish, violent, and ultimately uncontrollable -- and after taking over the body on its own terms and committing a murder or two, the only way to stop Hyde’s re-emergence was suicide. 

Although not about werewolves, per se, Jekyll & Hyde touches on many themes that we'll see come up time and again in werewolf media up through the present day: toxic masculinity, the dual nature of man, leading a double life, and the ultimate tragedy of allowing one's base instincts/animal nature to run wild. Against a backdrop of Victorian sexual repression and a rapidly shifting concept of humanity's relationship to nature, it makes sense that these themes would resonate deeply (and find a new home in werewolf media).

It is also worth mentioning Guy Endore's The Werewolf of Paris, published in 1933. Set against the backdrop of the Franco-Prussian war and subsequent military battles, the book utilizes a werewolf as a plot device for exploring political turmoil. A #1 bestseller in its day, the book was a big influence on the sci-fi and mystery pulp scene of the 1940s and 50s, and is still considered one of the best werewolf novels of its ilk.

From Silver Bullets to Silver Screens 

What werewolf representation lacks in novels, it makes up for in film. Werewolves have been a surprisingly enduring feature of film from its early days, due perhaps to just how much fun transformation sequences are to film. From camera tricks to makeup crews and animatronics design, werewolf movies create a lot of unique opportunities for special effects -- and for early film audiences especially (who were not yet jaded to movie magic), these on-screen metamorphoses must have elicited true awe. 

The Wolf Man (1941) really kicked off the trend. Featuring Lon Chaney Jr. as the titular wolf-man, the film was cutting-edge for its time in the special effects department. The creature design is the most memorable thing about the film, which has an otherwise forgettable plot -- but it captured viewer attention enough to bring Chaney back many times over for sequels and Universal Monster mash-ups. 

The Wolf Man and 1944's Cry of the Werewolf draw on that problematic Hollywood staple, "The Gypsy Curse(tm)" for their world-building. Fortunately, werewolf media would drift away from that trope pretty quickly; curses lost their appeal, but “bite as mode of transmission” would remain an essential part of werewolf mythos. 

In 1957, I Was a Teenage Werewolf was released as a classic double-header drive-in flick that's nevertheless worth a watch for its parallels between werewolfism and male aggression (a theme we'll see come up again and again). Guy Endore's novel got the Hammer Film treatment for 1961's The Curse of the Werewolf, but it wasn't until the 1970s when werewolf media really exploded: The Beast Must Die, The Legend of the Wolf Woman, The Fury of the Wolfman, Scream of the Wolf, Werewolves on Wheels and many more besides.

Hmmm, werewolves exploding in popularity around the same time as women's liberation was dramatically redefining gender roles and threatening the cultural concept of masculinity? Nah, must be a coincidence.

The 1980s brought with it even more werewolf movies, including some of the best-known in the genre: The Howling (1981), Teen Wolf (1985), An American Werewolf in London (1981), and The Company of Wolves (1984). Differing widely in their tone and treatment of werewolf canon, the films would establish more of a spiderweb than a linear taxonomy.

That spilled over into the 1990s as well. The Howling franchise went deep, with at least seven films that I can think of. Wolf, a 1994 release starring Jack Nicholson is especially worth a watch for its themes of dark romantic horror. 

By the 2000s, we get a proper grab-bag of werewolf options. There is of course the Underworld series, with its overwrought "vampires vs lycans" world-building. There's also Skin Walkers, which tries very hard to be Underworld (and fails miserably at even that low bar). But there's also Dog Soldiers and Ginger Snaps, arguably two of the finest werewolf movies of all time -- albeit in extremely different ways and for very different reasons.

Dog Soldiers is a straightforward monster movie pitting soldiers against ravenous werewolves. The wolves could just as easily have been subbed out with vampires or zombies -- there is nothing uniquely wolfish about them on a thematic level -- but the creature design is unique and the film itself is mastefully made and entertaining.

Ginger Snaps is the first werewolf movie I can think of that tackles lycanthropy from a female point of view. Although The Company of Wolves has a strong feminist angle, it is still very much a film about male sexuality and aggression. Ginger Snaps, on the other hand, likens werewolfism to female puberty -- a comparison that frankly makes a lot of sense.

The Werewolf as Sex Object 

There are quite literally thousands of werewolf romance novels on the market, with more coming in each day. But the origins of this trend are a bit fuzzier to make out (no pun intended). 

Everyone can mostly agree that Anne Rice’s Interview with a Vampire was the turning-point for sympathetic vampires -- and paranormal romance as a whole. But where do werewolves enter the mix? Possibly with Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter books, which feature the titular character in a relationship with a werewolf (and some vampires, and were-leopards, and...many other things). With the first book released in 1993, the Anita Blake series seems to pre-date similar books in its ilk. 

Blood and Chocolate (1997) by Annette Curtis Klause delivers a YA-focused version of the classic “I’m a werewolf in high school crushing on a mortal boy”; that same year, Buffy the Vampire Slayer hit the small screen, and although the primary focus was vampires, there is a main werewolf character (and romancing him around the challenges of his wolfishness is a big plot point for the characters involved). And Buffy, of course, paved the way for Twilight in 2005. From there, werewolves were poised to become a staple of the ever-more-popular urban fantasy/paranormal romance genre. 

“Sexy werewolf” as a trope may have its roots in other traditions like the beastly bridegroom (eg, Beauty and the Beast) and the demon lover (eg, Labyrinth), which we can talk about another time. But there’s one other ingredient in this recipe that needs to be discussed. And, oh yes, we’re going there. 

Alpha/Beta/Omegaverse 

By now you might be familiar with the concept of the Omegaverse thanks to the illuminating Lindsay Ellis video on the topic (and the current ongoing lawsuit). If not, well, just watch the video. It’ll be easier than trying to explain it all. (Warning for NSFW topics). 

But the tl;dr is that A/B/O or Omegaverse is a genre of (generally erotic) romance utilizing the classical understanding of wolf pack hierarchy. Never mind that science has long since disproven the stratification of authority in wolf packs; the popular conscious is still intrigued by the concept of a society where some people are powerful alphas and some people are timid omegas and that’s just The Way Things Are. 

What’s interesting about the Omegaverse in regards to werewolf fiction is that, as near as I’ve been able to discover, it’s actually a case of convergent evolution. A/B/O as a genre seems to trace its roots to Star Trek fanfiction in the 1960s, where Kirk/Spock couplings popularized ideas like heat cycles. From there, the trope seems to weave its way through various fandoms, exploding in popularity in the Supernatural fandom. 

What seems to have happened is that the confluence of A/B/O kink dynamics merging with urban fantasy werewolf social structure set off a popular niche for werewolf romance to truly thrive. 

It’s important to remember that, throughout folklore, werewolves were not viewed as being part of werewolf societies. Werewolves were humans who achieved wolf form through a curse or witchcraft, causing them to transform into murderous monsters -- but there was no “werewolf pack,” and certainly no social hierarchy involving werewolf alphas exerting their dominance over weaker pack members. That element is a purely modern one rooted as much in our misunderstanding of wolf pack dynamics as in our very human desire for power hierarchies. 

So Where Do We Go From Here? 

I don’t think sexy werewolf stories are going anywhere anytime soon. But that doesn’t mean that there’s no room left in horror for werewolves to resume their monstrous roots. 

Thematically, werewolves have done a lot of heavy lifting over the centuries. They hold up a mirror to humanity to represent our own animal nature. They embody themes of toxic masculinity, aggression, primal sexuality, and the struggle of the id and ego. Werewolf attack as sexual violence is an obvious but powerful metaphor for trauma, leaving the victim transformed. Werewolves as predators hiding in plain sight among civilization have never been more relevant than in our #MeToo moment of history. 

Can werewolves still be frightening? Absolutely. 

As long as human nature remains conflicted, there will always be room at the table for man-beasts and horrifying transfigurations. 

--

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[crocodilenialledfics]

You’re all I need (the air I breathe)

Two - in which Niall and Stella study, plans are made, and secrets are not shared 

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The love-at-first-sight, falling-too-fast, uni au that will make your heart ache (in a good way)

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“Is this seat taken?” A voice asked from across the table. 

Stella sat up, blinking as she adjusted to something other than the fine print of Faulkner. It was Niall. Stella smiled, shaking her head. 

“Faulkner,” he commented, sitting down across from her. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fallen asleep reading his stuff.”

“William just rolled over in his grave,” Stella laughed, eyebrows raising. “You can’t talk about him like that.”

“I would say I didn’t mean it, but it’d be a lie,” Niall chuckled, pulling his book bag onto his lap. “I’m glad I ran into you. I wanted to ask you a favor- well I guess it’s not really a favor. A proposition, maybe- that didn’t sound like the right word either.”

“What is it?” Stella laughed, amused by his ramblings. 

“Well I’m in this art history class and I’m really not doing too well. The exams are really hard but our professor has given us extra credit opportunities,” he explained. “We can go to the museum and write a reflective paper. Was wondering if you wanted to come with me. I figured museums were right up your alley.”

“They are,” Stella nodded. Smiling she said, “I would love to go with you.”

“Aces,” Niall grinned. “We can go whenever you’re free.”

“What about this weekend?” Stella asked. “I work here in the evenings the next few days.”

“Saturday?” Niall asked. 

“Sounds good,” she nodded. 

Stella tried to fight the smile off of her face but the longer that Niall had his on his face, the harder it got. Until Niall laughed, looking away. Stella’s cheeks ached. 

The next few moments Niall got situated with his books in front of him. Stella read a little bit from her book but it was decided that Niall was a distraction. 

“You know anything about impressionist art?” Niall asked, eyes focused on the book in front of him. 

“I’m afraid not,” Stella mumbled, leaning on the table. 

“Me either,” he mumbled back, lifting his head to look at her. “I have an exam tomorrow. Think I’m gonna fail it.” 

“With that mindset, probably,” Stella agreed with a curt nod. 

Niall laughed, a loud one, much louder than probably what’s acceptable in a library. Stella couldn’t help her own laugh, one of surprise at the volume of his. 

“We’re in the library,” Stella emphasized, laughing along with him. 

Niall shook his head, containing his laughter. “Stop being funny, then.”

“Stop laughing like a crazy person,” Stella retorted, challenging him with her eyes. 

It was unfair, the chemistry they had. Stella thought it was a waste. Niall started telling her about the classes he was taking, asking about hers. It was the boring kind of conversation she had every time she met someone knew but listening to Niall was riveting. Maybe the most interesting thing she’d ever heard. 

Only when Niall’s stomach growled so loud that the walls nearly shook, did they leave. No homework was done. Niall didn’t study. He left knowing less about impressionists than he did when he walked in. That was all thanks to Stella and her infectious smile. 

Stella stood in the food line beside Niall, looking over the dinner options. It looked only half appealing. They’d been in uni for nearly a month and she felt like she’s eaten everything a million times. 

Niall got pasta while Stella got a quesadilla. They sat across from each other at a table in the back and Niall told her what it was really like living with Louis. 

“He wakes me up all the time,” Niall told her. “Middle of the night he’s kicked his shoe halfway across the room, fallen over before making it into bed. When he’s high, he’s absolutely useless.”

Stella was amused at that, nodding, she’d known him well enough to know first hand what a terror he was. Niall wasn’t complaining though. Louis was easygoing, didn’t care about much. 

“I talked to Nadia,” Niall told her, voice a bit rough. He cleared his throat. 

“How’d that go?” Stella asked, trying to sound concerned but not eager despite the way she felt. 

“She uh...” Niall trailed off, holding her gaze. “She’s moved on. Of sorts. Has a new... boyfriend- or at least someone that she wants to be her boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Stella murmured. “I’m really sorry. Is that what you wanted to happen?” 

“No,” Niall chuckled, shaking his head. “Like. I guess on some level I knew it’d happen. Just didn’t think it’d be so soon.”

“I bet,” Stella agreed, watching him closely. They’d only talked about it a couple weeks ago. It wasn’t that long ago. 

“I didn’t really feel anything,” he admitted. “Maybe just guilty that I didn’t feel anything. I don’t know. Does that make sense?” 

“Yeah, of course,” she nodded. “A three year relationship ending is kind of a big deal, I’d think. A part of your life is over and another one is starting.”

“I guess,” he agreed with a nod. “Truthfully I thought I’d be the one to end it. I respected her too much to get invested in someone else while we were still together-ish.”

“Right,” Stella nodded. “Were you planning on breaking up with her or was your heart still in it?” 

“I don’t know,” he laughed, shrugging. “I have no idea what I was going to do. What I wanted. What I felt. No idea.” 

“Well that’s okay,” Stella chuckled. “You can’t name every single feeling or thought.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed. 

“This other person...” Stella began slowly. “You’re still thinking about them?” 

Niall nodded, looking away, “I think that’s why I didn’t know anything- still don’t know anything. Can’t really read her.”

Stella hummed, declining to comment. Her curiosity got the best of her. She felt guilty for asking, though she wanted to know more. Everything about what he was thinking. 

“Anyways,” Niall chuckled, checking the time. “We should get going. I still have to fuckin study. You did nothing to help me.”

“I have to read ten chapters for class tomorrow,” Stella argued, laughing. “But all you wanted to talk about was how you thought all the artists were visually impaired and didn’t know it.” 

“It’s logical,” Niall argued with a smile. 

“Glasses were invented in the 1300’s,�� Stella told him. 

“And what was the quality of glasses in the 1800’s?” He asked. 

“I don’t know,” Stella shrugged, standing up. 

“Wow so there’s something that Stella doesn’t know,” he murmured, standing up too. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“I don’t know lots of things,” Stella sighed, shouldering her bag. 

“Like?” 

“Like...” she trailed off, thinking it over. “I don’t know what happens to fish when water freezes. And I don’t know why there’s the temperature and then the real feel temperature.” 

“All very good questions,” Niall agreed. “I don’t know the answer to either of them.”

“I also don’t know who this mystery person is that you just can’t stop thinking about,” Stella added on, tactfully at that. 

Niall laughed, nodding, “that’s a secret.”

“Well maybe I have a person that I can’t stop thinking about too,” Stella shrugged, adjusting her bag on her shoulders. 

“Who?” Niall asked, head tilting to the side. 

“Oh it’s a secret,” Stella laughed as they began to walk outside. 

“Ha ha,” he deadpanned. “You just made it up to get back at me.” 

“I didn’t,” Stella shook her head. “There is a person that I can’t stop thinking about.” 

“One day I’ll get you to spill,” Niall told her, very confidently. Stella believed him, too. 

“Only if you tell me yours,” Stella said with a shrug as if the thought didn’t make her want to vomit anyways. It was a very stupid deal. 

“Is it Zayn?” He asked. 

“I’m not saying,” Stella laughed, shaking her head. “My lips are sealed.”

“Fine,” he mumbled, eying her skeptically. 

“Besides,” Stella murmured, looking up at him. “I’ve got my person and you’ve got yours.”

// 

Stella and Niall stood side by side, eyes on Renoir’s La Grenouillère. Niall’s face was scrunched up and Stella tried her best not to laugh but she did, hand over her mouth. 

“What?” Niall laughed. “I’m trying to look at this painting.” 

“Well why are you squinting?” Stella asked, eyebrows furrowing. 

“It’s blurry like,” he laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t know.” 

“And squinting would make it more blurry, right?” Stella asked, looking back to the painting. 

“I don’t know,” he laughed, slouching. “Help me.”

“So just look at it,” Stella told him, voice soft. “Think about what you see. How it makes you feel.” 

“I just don’t know,” he repeated, shaking his head. “They’re having a party.” 

“Yeah,” Stella nodded. 

“Is that right?”

“There’s no right answer to impressionist art,” Stella told him, turning to face him. “That’s the point. They’re open ended, like. That’s why they’re blurry so there isn’t any specific details, you can imagine or feel your own.”

“Fuck,” Niall whispered. “I got a whole section wrong on my exam.”

“Jesus,” Stella laughed, shaking her head. “Okay let’s keep going. Maybe there’ll be one you can... feel.”

“I like history,” Niall muttered. “Where there’s just facts. That-that this is what happened and you don’t have to imagine your own version of events.” 

Stella shook her head as they continued walking down the row of art hanging on the walls. She could admire the beauty in art. Literature and art went hand in hand. History went along with them too, Stella just didn’t want to be the person to tell him that. 

They stopped in front of Monet’s Sunrise. Niall let out a disgruntled sigh, rubbing his eyes, “This is quite literally a mess I..” 

“It’s a sunset,” Stella told him, pointing toward the setting sun. 

“Stella, I have to tell you something,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m like colorblind. I have trouble with the greens and blues and yellows.”

“Niall,” Stella laughed, rubbing her head. 

“I didn’t think it’d be a problem but since impressionist art is erm...” he trailed off, looking up respectfully. “Blurry?”

“I think that this effects your ability to write a reflective piece on art, wouldn’t you think?” Stella asked, eyebrows raised. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, eyes trailing over the paintings in front of him. “Can you help me? I’m so desperate, Stel. This impressionist shit is so hard. One bad grade and I lose my scholarship. I’ll have to go back to London and get a fuckin’ job the last thing I want is to-“

“Okay,” Stella cut him off with a gentle laugh. “I’ll help you. You’re doing all the writing, though. And you have to try.”

“I will,” he nodded. “You have no idea how much this means to me. I really appreciate it. I’ll buy you lunch. And coffee. And dinner!”

“That’s really not necessary,” Stella laughed, nodding toward the next painting. They began walking. “But of course, I’ll take you up on it.”

They must have stood in front of twenty different paintings. It was an obvious struggle, but Niall tried. With Stella’s help he’d settled on the one he’d write about. It was Les Déjeuner sur l’herb. A non complicated piece by Édouard Manet about eating lunch in the grass. 

Niall and Stella found themselves on the futon in his room, two coffees between them and lunch on the way. Niall had his laptop on his lap, eyebrows scrunched up as he worked on his reflective piece. 

Stella was there for what seemed like moral support, and maybe possibly revisions. She zoned out looking at the ceiling, thinking about how romantic museums really are. She thought about how she’d love to be kissed in front of Les Printemps by Pierre-August Cot. Or to hold hands in front of The Kiss by Auguste Rodin. 

“Okay,” Niall said, pulling Stella from her thoughts. “I think I’m almost finished. What do you think?” 

Niall passed her the laptop. She set it on her lap, sitting up. Stella read his work carefully, admiring his writers voice. It was detailed for the length of it. Surely, an extra credit worthy piece. 

“It looks good,” Stella told him with a nod, looking up at him. 

“You think it should be longer?” 

“No it’s a good size,” Stella shook her head. “Especially because you’re just writing a one piece reflection. If you were comparing two paintings, or reflecting on Manet’s work as a whole it’d be a bit longer.” 

“Okay,” Niall nodded, letting out a sigh. He looked up at her, taking the laptop back. “You know we’re doing this once every unit, you know.”

Stella laughed, shaking her head. Niall’s phone rang as he smiled, sitting up. He answered it, already standing up. He slipped his shoes on, grabbing his wallet off the table. “I’ll be right back,” he mouthed, nodding to the door. 

Stella nodded, slouching down on the futon. She took a sip of coffee as the door closed behind him. The door swung right back open and Louis walked in, a grin on his face, “Stella Bella. What’s going on here?” 

“Helping Niall with some homework,” Stella chuckled, looking up at him. 

Louis sat down beside her, shoulders bumping into hers. “Tomorrow we’re all going to Whitworth to play a bit of footie. Like everyone’s coming. You should too.”

“Is veda going?” 

“Yeah.”

“Zayn?”

“Yeah.”

“Niall?”

“Yeah.”

“Heather?” 

“Stella don’t worry about it,” Louis laughed. 

“Just tell me so I’m prepared.”

“By prepared I hope you mean you’ll leave your cat claws at home,” Louis chuckled. “She’s coming.”

“Great,” she mumbled, shaking her head. 

“She’s bringing Liam, Danielle, and this new girl Eleanor. I guess she’s like incredible looking. And smart and funny and- just play nice, okay?” Louis nearly begged, sitting up.

“I always play nice with everyone except fuckin’ Heather,” Stella mumbled almost begrudgingly. 

Louis went over to his desk, pulling out some books to shove into his book bag. “I’m going to the library to work on this math shit with Veda.” 

“Have fun,” Stella mumbled. 

“Yeah you have fun too, Stella,” Louis grinned, walking toward her. “Have I told you recently how much Niall just loves you.” 

“Go away,” Stella laughed, putting her foot out to nudge him away. 

“We’ll talk later,” he promised with a wink, hearing for the door. “Hands stay above the waist, you hear me? No funny business on my futon.”

“Fuck off,” Stella shot back, shaking her head as he walked out. It made her cheeks flush, just the mention of that. She didn’t think about it, or didn’t have the time to because Niall came back with their food. 

He set the pizza down on the table in front of them, sitting down on the futon beside her. He sighed, turning the tv on. “What do you wanna watch?” 

“Anything,” Stella shrugged, sitting up. She opened the box, picking up a slice for herself. 

“Thanks again for helping me,” Niall told her as the Netflix logo appeared on the screen. “It means a lot.”

“Of course,” Stella smiled, watching him grab his own slice of pizza. 

“You ever need help with history, let me know,” Niall told her, flashing her a smile as he sat back. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Stella nodded, eyes lingering on him a bit longer than necessary.  She wanted to take him all in, the smile on his face, the way his eyes shined. Niall let her, holding her gaze. Stella was beginning to feel that there was something unspoken between them. She was dying for Niall to say it.

taglist: @niallsguitarsthings​ @exoticniall​

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[feckin-zicons]

Squids, Dancing, and Dirty thoughts... Not necessarily in that order or all at once.

Apparently people like this? I am more confused than Liam is in this chapter. Which you know, makes sense bc this character only exists in my head, but also doesn’t at all bc I have no idea what goes on in there most of the time. Anyway this is for Zayn, Oxford commas, @stanmedusa who pointed out Zayn was also an Oxford comma stan, @redyellowberry, and their anon to started this mess. Also please imagine Zayn with his current blue hair, but also with his long Aladdin hair bc that’s what I’ve been doing and oh holy gods do I need that to happen. Please. Hair gods make it happen I’m begging

Same warnings as ever its 4AM, this is much longer than planned, and I have no interest in editing, making it sound coherent, or good. No, I don’t know about the squids either.

Parts 1&2 here

Liam would like to point out while he's not a stranger to feeling confused, he's still having trouble pinpointing how exactly he got to be Dance Mistress Irina Alinova's personal bitch. 

Ever since he accidentally interrupted one of the dance practises while looking for a missing prop for Director Corden, more and more of them started disappearing only to show up in the basement. No one else was interested in facing the Dance Mistresses' wrath, but Liam didn't mind the yelling. As long as Mistress Alinova didn't start throwing things, he figured he was safe enough. After all, it gave him the chance to see the blue haired ballerino again.  

Zayn Malik, the god in mortal form, the prima ballerino, the prettiest man Liam had ever seen, who had no idea who Liam even was. 

Liam had it bad. 

Liam had it so bad.

Liam had it so bad he tripped over thin air, spilled hot coffee over himself, and walked into a door when he thought he saw him at a Costas with Louis. The man he saw wasn't Zayn, thank fuck, but the entire sequence of events did give Louis more ammunition to tease him with. Stupid pretty boys with long blue hair and piercings sent from hell just to ruin Liam's life. Yeah, he was a goner. 

Louis dragged out the whole sorry story after Liam texted him about spiking his lunch and laughed himself sick knowing just how much of a mess Liam became around people he was interested in. They still didn't talk about Danielle. Which was a good thing considering the end of that relationship had Liam pretty much swearing off women for the rest of his life. No pussy was worth that mess. Dick though? Liam was willing to take that chance on Zayn, even if asking Harry didn't give him much information. 

According to Harry, Zayn had been around for a few years but mostly kept to himself or the other dancers. There was something about him throwing a fit a few weeks before Liam showed up. Upset about being forced to learn the choreography for Winston's show when it was just going to fail on opening night like it always did. 

Liam thought he had a point, considering. He didn't know what bananas, ballet, and really bad rapping had to do with King James VI but didn't want to voice that in front of the man playing the gay king. No one dared fire Zayn, considering he kept the whole theatre afloat, but it also didn't make many actors happy with him. Especially not Mizz Wendy Williams, who played Marie Antoinette in the play. Again, Liam had a lot of questions he didn't dare ask out loud. It's not like he was ever good at history, so it was entirely possible the two lived in the same time period. Or it was some sort of allegory that went over his head like the aristocrats wearing banana suits did. 

Louis always found his stories about his placement hilarious, but even that one had him wondering if there wasn't some sort of gas leak in their apartment. It wouldn't have been the first time, or the second. Most likely, it was the theatre that was growing some sort of mold that caused insanity if breathed in. Some of the things Liam had been forced to clean in the past few weeks were unspeakable. 

But even that probably couldn't explain Zayn Malik. Nothing could explain that sort of beauty and talent. Or those hands... and thighs... and fingers. Ung. Liam would love to get up close and personal with all of him.  

Either way, Liam had just been cleaning the mirrors in the practice room, humming along to Brandy and Monica on the radio, wondering if Niall was actually going to come down and help him instead of hiding away like a coward. Again. By the second verse, he'd given up trying not to sing along, not expecting anyone to come by. It was late, the dancer's practise long over, and Winston left screaming over an hour ago. Liam would have done a recce and skipped out on the last half hour if one of the managers wasn't sticking around still. Piers Morgan, an absolute cunt who treated the lads on probation like hardened criminals, and he was the prison warden. Despite, you know, most of the lads on summary probation, and Liam’s arson charge being the most serious crime out of all of them. 

Anyway, the last thing he's expecting is for anyone to come in while he's singing about the boy being his, rolling his body to the beat. Which is probably how he ends up tripping over himself when he notices Zayn leaning up against the open door, watching him. Watching him, in bright, tight, teal dance tights (were dance tights usually blue? They should be) that looked nice with his hair and complimented the gold tones of his skin. The skin he could see a lot of. Because he was shirtless. Because he was shirtless and had a lot more tattoos than Liam realized. Tattoos Liam wanted to bite. Not hard enough to make a mark or anything, that would be sacrilegious, but enough to make him make a sound. God, Liam hoped he was a moaner. Not that he thought he had a chance with Zayn or anything, but it would be a shame if Zayn was the type that stayed quiet during sex. 

Except he wasn't being quiet now, he was talking. And Liam was staring at him, like an idiot, not paying attention. Because he was an idiot. 

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, why did this always happen to him? 

"Er, what?" Liam asked, desperately hoping he didn't sound as stupid as he felt right then, which was pretty fucking stupid. He probably looked even stupider than he felt and ruined his chances at ever-

"I asked if you were almost done? Was planning on practising more tonight," Zayn answered him. 

Zayn, Zayn Fucking Malik, answered him, and he was still staring at him like an idiot. Shit Liam say something.

"Pretty" 

Not that you idiot.

"What?" Zayn asked, looking confused and adorable.

Oh god, he was precious. Was that a smile? Was he smiling at him? Liam? Oh no.

"Pretty much, I meant. Pretty much done," Liam replied, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. "Just one more mirror, and I'll be out of your way."

There, those were words, sentences even. Now all he had to do was act normal and finish cleaning. Easy. 

"So, Brandy and Monica, right? You like R'n'B then?" Zayn asked him, walking into the room with a heavy dance bag, setting it off to the side.

Liam felt himself flushing as he turned back around to finish cleaning the mirror so Zayn wouldn't see.  "Yeah," he answered, trying not to peek at Zayn bending over as he rifled through his belongings. 

Those legs, Fuck. Liam wondered what it'd feel like to have them around his- 

"I didn't expect that," Zayn said, drawing Liam out of his filthy thoughts, and making him turn back around.

"What?"

"No, I- I didn't mean it in a bad way or anything. I guess I just expected you to listen to more rock?" 

Liam was pretty sure he missed half of the conversation somewhere. Was Zayn blushing? He was so pretty. Wow. 

"No, I like everything," he replied dumbly. They were still talking about music, right? That would make sense. Why was Zayn talking to him again? God, Liam couldn't handle this. "Do you like it? The music, I mean."

"Yeah, grew up listening to ‘em. My older sister was obsessed with Monica. So... Who's your favourite artist?" 

"Artist? Oh uh, I've been listening to a lot of Post Malone? How about you? What do you- who do you listen to?" 

"Post Malone's sick, mate. I like most music I guess, but I've been listening to a lot of The Weekend."

"Have you heard his new album?"

"Yeah, it's sick! Do you-" Zayn was cut off by Niall running in out of breath. The bright orange tee that labelled him as one of the community service workers was wet and stained black. Actually.. all of him was soaked and stained black. Was that ink?

"Hey, Payno, are you done yet because we have a situation upstairs," Niall gasped out, hands on his knees, looking like he'd just seen his life flash before his eyes. 

"What the hell happened to you?" 

"There's a squid stick in the toilet." 

"There's a what?"

"A Squid! A giant fucking squid in the toilet!" 

Liam blinked in confusion, trying to wrap his head around why there would be a squid anywhere near the theatre let alone one of the toilets. Did Corden want live animals in his show now? Or Winston. It could be either of them. 

"Why do you need me?" he asked. "I don't know anything about squids."

Niall sounded like he was at the end of his rope when he replied, "You know something about plumbing at least!" 

"Not a lot! Enough to keep the water on at home, but I'm not a plumber." 

"Doesn't matter, we need your help, Ashtons gone to find some butter," Niall said, stomping back around, leaving behind a trail of watery black ink. "We'll meet you upstairs when you're done."

"Wait, what do you need butter for?!" Liam called after him but didn't get a reply. Butter? How was butter going to help?

A muffled giggle distracted Liam from his thoughts, and he was abruptly reminded Zayn was still in the room. Zayn, might as well be a god, was in the room, and Liam was just talking about squids in toilets.

Why him?

"I guess I should go see what they need help with?" Liam tried to say without sounding... Well, he wasn't sure what the proper response was in this situation or how to react to it. 

Zayn smiled at him, and oh. How was it possible he looked even more attractive now? 

Liam thinks Zayn said something about the other lads needing him and it sounding urgent, but really, Liam was in a daze until he also got a face full of ink... From another squid in an entirely different toilet. 

What the fuck.

Louis was never going to let him live this down. 

Really? Squids???

[gemlinz]

Fulcrum ch. 3 - Baby Steps (Levi x f!Reader)

Summary: It was a cruel world, she knew. She also knew better than to ask for more than her lot: being a full time barmaid and a part time thief. She helped where she could, bitterly accepted where she could not. Feared the monsters lurking outside the walls.  But still - being near him, taking in his strength, his resolve - she couldn't help but hope for more. For herself. For him. For humanity.

Warnings: Swearing, Violence | CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 |

Read on A03

As soon as the door shut on the last customer, F/N locked it.  She threw her head back onto the wooden frame hard with a groan, eyes falling shut. This was the first time tonight she had to stand still.

“Rough night?”  Levi asked from behind his mug.  He was sitting in his normal corner, eyeing her exhausted form.

She only grunted in response.

Rough night was an understatement - it was Saturday, and while that always meant a night long rush, the merchants were also throwing a festival.  Even when it was standing room only, customers forced themselves into the pub to demand whatever their drink of choice was, throwing money at her before making their way back out into the busy street.  On top of that, Louis was still out, so she was entirely alone to deal with it.

The barmaid hadn’t had a second to breathe, let alone dedicate attention to her partner in crime, as it were.  Their close encounter with the Military Police had been just over a week ago, though she had seen him a few days prior when he delivered her new assignment.

Levi watched her for a beat longer before saying, “You’re not going to leave this shithole looking like this, are you?”

She cracked one E/C eye open at him before directing her gaze to the rest of the bar.  She bit back a curse when she took it in.

As busy as she was, she hadn’t noticed the state it was in.  Glasses and alcohol littered the floor, some of it coagulated and starting to become sticky.  She counted two tables turned over, and a broken chair leg - it was unclear where the rest of the chair was.

Even the walls had a layer of gunk on them.  F/N felt like she was about to cry.

He scoffed when she cast pleading eyes at him.

“Not a chance, brat.”  He shot her down, setting his cup down.  His table and the area around it remained miraculously spotless, as if his aura just emanated cleanliness.  

More likely, she guessed, his aura promised deadly retribution should anyone come too close.

“Please, Levi?”  She begged, pushing off the wall to come sit in front of him.  “This is totally your thing!” When he looked only nonplussed, she continued “There's no way I’ll get it all done before I pass out….just think of all the spots I’ll miss…”

He rolled his eyes, “Sounds like a you problem - why would I give a shit about what your pub looks like?”

She sighed heavily, giving up on him.  The woman buried her head in her arms on the table, groaning.

“Fine, whatever.”  She mumbled through her arms, “I’ll do it myself...just need to rest my eyes for a minute.  Feel free to see yourself out.”

He shook his head in disgust, kicking the leg of her chair.

“Oi, we’re not done yet - I still need your report.” 

“I didn’t have time to write it with Louis being out,” She whined.

“And where the fuck might Louis be?  Kinda shitty to leave your dumbass stuck with this crowd alone.”

F/N glanced up just enough to glare at him, “It’s not his fault, I had to fight him to stay home.  He’s in no state to be working.”

“What do you mean “in no state”?” He demanded.  She looked away.

“It doesn’t matter.  Just - don't think lowly of him, ok?  He’d be here if he could.”

Levi grunted, shooting the last of his tea before noisily placing the mug back on the saucer.  Of course the idiot would defend the man who had sold her out less than a year ago.  He studied her for a minute before continuing.

“Fine.  I’ll help you.”  When her head shot up in surprised glee, he continued, “If you tell me what happened to your face.”

F/N's brows drew together in confusion, but the action pulled on the cut above her cheek and she was quickly reminded.  Her hand flew up to the swollen side of her face, flushing.  With the busyness of her night, she had totally forgotten.

It looked worse than it was - her cheekbone and right eye were slightly swollen, a shallow scabbed over cut just above the apple of her cheek.  The bruising didn’t look as bad as it had a couple days ago thankfully, but still showed as a faded ugly green. 

Levi had spotted it the second he walked in, and he had been itching for answers ever since.  His irritation only grew when she was too busy to even spare him a greeting, throwing his typical order down in front of him with an apologetic frown before moving onto her next customer.

When she looked like she wouldn’t answer, he prompted, “Is that from the other night?  When I-”  He looked away, “When we had to shake the MPs?”

“No.”  She said, surprised he even cared, "Though you could have been nicer about it.”

He rolled his eyes at her petulant tone. 

“I’ll remember that next time we’re about to be caught, interrogated and then executed.”  

When the woman wasn’t forthcoming with any more information, he leaned over the table to better inspect her injury.

F/N moved away when he got closer in alarm, but he stopped her with a firm hand on her chin, angling her face for a better view.  

“Did someone hit you?” He demanded, gently prodding at her cheekbone.  She hissed.

“Not on purpose.  I don't think.”  She yanked out of his grasp, pushing her chair back so as to be out of range. 

“You don’t think.” He deadpanned.   “No it was - well, he was aiming for Louis, probably.”  When he still didn’t seem satisfied with her answer, she continued giving in.  “It was some drunk, ok?  He had had too much, and Louis cut him off which only pissed him off.  He got belligerent, and we had to kick him out.  Louis took the brunt of it, but I got hit trying to tear the guy off of him.”

A beat while he processed

“So what I’m getting here,” Levi drawled, drawing it out like she was a child, “Is that you let some drunk asshole sucker punch you?”

She felt her face heat in indignation.  Why was he saying it like it was her fault?  "I didn't let him do anything."  

He scoffed.

“Tell me you at least broke the fuckers arm.”  He said, frustrated.

“What?” She asked, alarmed, “No, of course not - other customers stepped in after that and dragged him out.  He was twice the size of me.”

That gave him pause.

“So?  Why should that matter?  I kick the shit out of people twice my size all the time.”  

“Yeah, but you’re you.”  She argued, and he felt warning bells begin to go off, “And I can’t do stuff like that.”

He stared at her for a minute, trying to see through a lie.  When he didn’t find one, he felt anger start to bubble up, mixed with alarm.

“Can’t do stuff like what?”  He asked, voice low.

She shifted uncomfortably, able to sense his mood change but not sure what had caused it.  She chose her next words carefully.

“Fighting stuff.”  When his gaze only got darker, she rushed to clarify, thinking that her lack of explanation was the problem, “I never needed to so I never learned, and I don’t think I’d even know how to start.  I mean, you had to have known this, you had me pinned in seco-”  She stopped abruptly when he held up one hand, the other pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed.  There was a moment of silence as he processed what she was saying.

“Are you telling me,”  He began threateningly, his tone setting her on edge, “That we’ve been sending you, for months, into enemy territory... and you can’t even defend yourself?” 

F/N would have been insulted if she wasn’t so terrified.

“I-”  her voice cracked a bit, so she cleared her throat, “I mean...yes?”

His hand slammed down on the table and she jumped.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”  He growled at her, though she didn’t think the question was necessarily directed at her.  

“Look - it's not like I’ll ever need to know.”  She defended, adrenaline pumping and pride a little bruised, “No ones ever been able to catch me.”

He looked at her like she was stupid.

“I caught you, you idiot.”  His voice was exasperated. Then, more to himself, “How the hell did I not realize...you went down so easy, I just thought I surprised you.”

“You only caught me because you cheated.”  She bristled, sitting up straighter.  “If not for Louis, the last you’d have seen of me was on that rooftop.”

“And you think our enemies will play by your rules?” He countered, directing his fury back towards her.

“Well - no, but-”

“So what happens next time you're cornered, huh?  Next time someone sells your dumbass out and you get hit when your guard’s down?”

“It won’t happen, Levi, you’re not listening to me-”

“Shut the fuck up before I shut you up.” He leaned forward menacingly, and she immediately shrunk back.  At her fearful compliance, he sat back.  In a calmer but no less cold tone, “You should know how to at least defend yourself.  It’s a fucking miracle you’ve made it this far.”

She wouldn’t meet his gaze, staring at her hands as she picked at her nails.

“It’s a moot point, anyway,” She started quietly, “I don’t have anyone to teach me.”  

At his silence, icy fear clawed up her spine.

“You’re um-” She began, voice shaking, “You’re not going to tell Erwin, right?”

Tiredly, Levi sized her up. Despite this new development, she was honestly the best thief he had met. Given his history that wasn’t an easy feat - her ability to slip in and out of otherwise off access sites undetected was beyond even his own talents, and had been hugely beneficial to the Corps. But if he told Erwin that she was practically defenseless when they sent her to these places, that if she was ever caught she wouldn’t stand a chance against capture....

A captured spy was a liability, and not one the Survey Corp could afford.  

The Commander would cut her out.  And then, to tie up loose ends, he’d arrest her - maybe have his strongest soldier eliminate her so she couldn’t talk.

Levi could tell from the stiff way she held herself she realized what was at stake with her question.

He sighed, drumming his fingers on the table with one hand and leaning his head against the other.

“You’re not giving me much choice,”  He started, letting her hang for a beat when her eyes shot up to meet his in panic, “I’ll have to teach you.”

The thief’s fear melted into confusion and then into shock.  His lips quirked as he saw the emotions play out on her face. 

“Wait, really?”

He gave her a blank look, bored.  “Just enough to keep you alive.”

She nodded, “Ok, yeah. Ok.” Her brain was still catching up, “Like...right now?”

He shook his head, exasperated. 

“No, dumbass. You’re dead on your feet and this pub’s still filthy. I’ll meet you here tomorrow night, after close. ”

F/N groaned as she remembered the state of their surroundings, dragging herself to her feet.

“I almost forgot,” She sighed wistfully, imagining her warm bed.  Moving to go get the cleaning supplies, she waved at him over her shoulder. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow then. I’ll have the report, too.”

“Tch.”  He said, standing up and moving behind where she stood in front of the supplies closet, snatching a towel from her hand.  “Give me a rag, brat.  I’ll start on the walls.”

He ignored her surprised stare as he made good on his promise.

The next night, Levi found himself standing outside the door to Louis’ pub.  From the windowed entrance, he could see F/N with her back facing him;  she was pushing the bar’s tables to the sides of the room, muscles straining with the effort.

She had changed out of her regular day-job attire and was wearing the clothes he had first seen her in - black head to toe and easy to move around in.  Perfect for a spy, and perfect for what he had planned.

As he watched her flit back and forth to clear the room, Levi once again wondered why he was doing this.  Reporting her shortcomings to Erwin would be disastrous for her life expectancy, sure, but he wouldn’t ever have to sit in this shitty bar again.  He could get on with his life;  the Commanders pet project failing didn’t do anything but expose him to significantly less shitty tea.

But even as he tried to convince himself to turn home and right into Erwin’s office, he could only sigh.  He knew he wouldn’t do it, just like he knew the countless other times he had this argument with himself on the way over here.

It wasn’t out of compassion for the young thief.  If anything, her weakness grated on him, had him itching to just put her out of her own goddamn misery and end this charade.  She was barely tolerable and the less time spent in her presence, the better.

No, he had agreed to train her because he saw the potential.

It was a skill he developed at a young age - to see a seemingly harmless object and know that in his hands, it could become deadly.

The way she evaded him that night six months ago was like nothing he had encountered before - she hadn’t been wrong, only Louis tipping him and Erwin off got her caught.  Never before had he seen someone know the empty, quiet spaces in the world and melt into them as if she was nothing.

It was impressive, he would begrudgingly admit.  But more importantly, if honed, it would be dangerous.

Already was.  The information she had stolen for Erwin had brought the Corp back from monetary extinction.  He had her to thank for his shiny new 3DMG, traded up from his hand me down last generation model.  The person she could become is someone they wanted on their side.

But he also wasn’t an idiot - he wouldn’t teach her enough to kill him, or Erwin.  But just enough to give her a leg up should anyone try and fuck with her.

The Captain’s sigh was self deprecating as he watched her trip herself with a chair she was carrying, still not noticing him.  His and Erwin's safety probably wasn’t something he would have to worry about.

Levi rapped his knuckles on the glass, the door already locked to keep out any last minute bar flies.  She whipped around, waving when she saw him.

“Hi!” She chirped, opening the door and stepping aside, “I wasn’t sure if you’d actually come, but I got ready anyway.”

He grunted in response, throwing his jacket onto the bar counter.  She was bouncing lightly on her heels with nervous energy.  “You need to calm down.”

She flinched, but stopped bouncing.  He narrowed his eyes.  If this was going to work, he needed her focused - and right now she was practically quaking.

“If I wanted you dead brat, it would have already happened.”

“Of course,” She stuttered, “I know that.  Obviously.”  E/C eyes darted above his head, where there was still a bullet lodged.

Levi exhaled loudly in frustration.  Fine, he’d just have to show her what distraction would cost her.

“Get over here, stand in the middle of the room.”  She did obediently, “Good, now square up.  I’m going to come at you and your one job is to not get hit, understand?”

F/N paused with her fists halfway raised, staring at him wide-eyed, “H-huh? Wait, I’m not rea-”

He charged at her.  She dodged wildly to the right as he faked a swing with his left fist, only to be met with a kick to her side.

She was knocked over, crashing into the side of the bar hard.

Wincing, she sat up angrily.

“Ow - what the hell was that!?”  She yelled, fuming.  She recoiled back into the bar as he stalked towards her.

“That,” He answered, crouching down to be eye level, “was pathetic.  I knew it was bad, but shit.  There's not much to work with.  Your focus is abysmal,” he began listing, “You show your hand too easily and you fall like you want to break something.”

F/N did her best to hold her glare, but each new fault he listed broke her down a bit more.

“At least we know where to start,”  He sighed, standing up, “from the bottom.  Get up, stand in the middle and square up again.”

She hesitated again, fearful at him attacking her.  It only took a raised eyebrow before she compiled.

He studied her, before circling around to stand behind her.

“Your biggest advantage is that you’re light on your feet and fast, when you’re not being a klutz.  I've seen you do it to dodge the handsy drunks.  Use it - don’t stop moving.  Widen your stance,”  He kicked at her calf until satisfied her feet were in the right spot.  Then he turned her with a grip on her hips, “And turn so that your side faces your opponent - you want to take up the least amount of space as possible while still allowing for the greatest range of movement.”

He stepped back, before humming.  Coming around to face her again, he nodded once.

“Good.  Now, the tough part.  You need to learn how to read what your opponent’s doing before they do it.”  He rolled his sleeves up, cuffing them at the elbow. 

“And how do I learn to do that?”  She asked, awkwardly shifting around in her new stance.

His eyes were feral, and she instinctively took a step back when she caught sight of them.

“Experience.”

 If she thought the first knockdown was bad, the next thirty or so were much worse.

Levi didn’t let up until just before dawn, when she finally managed to dodge one of his blows, turning to him in glee only to be met with him sweeping her legs out from under her.

She fell hard on her back, winded and glaring up at him.

“Don’t get cocky,” He said, looming over her, “Overconfidence will get you killed.”

He offered her a hand.  F/N rolled her eyes, but took it and he hauled her to her feet.

“Better, anyway.”  He decided, and she figured it was as much validation she was going to get, “We’ll call it a night.”

The thief nodded, finally letting herself feel the exhaustion rolling over her now that the immediate danger had passed. 

Walking towards the pub’s cash drawer, she opened it, sliding out her report hidden under the bills and handing it to him.

He took it, nodding once in thanks.

“So,” She began casually, “now that I can defend myself, you won’t tell Erwin?”

Levi paused in putting on his jacket.

“You think you’re set after one lesson?”  He asked, incredulous, “Are you an idiot?  I wasn't even going at you with even a fraction of power - even the shittiest MPs would still fuck you up.”

F/N stared at him, mouth agape.

“Then what am I sup-”

“I’ll see you next week, brat.  You better not be distracted next time.”  He stated as if they had already agreed.  Not waiting to hear her arguments, he used the front door to leave.

She could only stare at where he was before moving to lock the door.  She stuck her tongue out at his back as she watched him turn the corner.

Making her way up to her apartment, she tenderly prodded one of her many bruises, groaning loudly at the thought of having to do it all over again.

[ericsonclan]

A Part of the Family

Summary: The Everetts are getting ready for Christmas and Louis gets to tag along for some holiday fun.

Word Count: 2539

Read on A03:

“New stockings! New stockings!” AJ chanted, bouncing happily in the backseat of Clementine’s car. The boy had been crestfallen when Lee had opened up a box of holiday decorations only to find that water had seeped in and wrecked most of them, their stockings included. But once it had been announced that new stockings would be bought, he immediately brightened up, excited by the opportunity to decorate his own stocking and also the possibility of an even bigger stocking than before.

Clementine and Louis shared a knowing smile as they looked back at the boy and then at each other. Louis had been at the house to help the Everetts with decorating for Christmas when the damaged box was discovered. So after the lights had all been strung round the house and the Christmas tree decorated, he’d tagged along with Clementine and A.J. on their quest to get new stockings.

Pulling into the parking lot, Clementine looked towards their neighborhood Target. “Doesn’t look too busy. I think the cold is keeping people away,”

“That and people are probably procrastinating till the last second when it comes to buying gifts,” Louis noted.

Clementine chuckled at the slight tone of judgment within Louis’ voice. He took his gift giving very seriously. All his gifts had been bought back in November, but additional gifts were constantly being added to the pile as he spotted more “perfect” presents that he simply couldn’t pass up. The boy was lucky he came from money, otherwise he’d bankrupt himself each Christmas.

Hopping out of the car, the trio walked hand in hand, A.J. swinging Louis’ and Clementine’s arms back and forth as he scampered along between them. Once they had cleared a patch of ice, Clementine and Louis lifted their arms and swung A.J. back and forth between them, joining his excited laughter with their own. Stepping through the entrance, they all let out a breath of relief as the warmth hit them.

“There’s a shopping cart!” A.J. cried, running forth excitedly and grabbing the first cart he spotted.

“Remember, goofball, we’re just here for the stockings, not anything else,” Clementine cautioned.

“Well, if we see something really awesome then maybe I could pick it up for you…” Louis offered before pausing when he saw Clementine raise an eyebrow. She’d already given him a talk about the half dozen early Christmas presents he’d given A.J. and how he was setting unrealistic expectations for Christmas day. Giving a sheepish grin, Louis clammed up and settled for holding his girlfriend’s hand while she picked up a red shopping basket with the other.

Going down the Christmas aisles at Target, the trio soon reached an aisle that was completely covered with stockings on one side. There were plenty of different pre-made designs that ranged from snowmen to reindeer to snowflakes, but Clementine strode past of all of them and grabbed four blank red stockings.

“Four?” Louis asked curiously.

“Of course. There’s one for you too,”

Louis blushed happily at that, a flustered smile crossing his face.

A.J.’s eyes bugged out at the news. “Does that mean Louis is spending Christmas morning with us so he gets to open his stocking in the morning too?”

Clementine shook her head. “Sorry, kiddo, but I bet Louis wants to spend Christmas with his own family-” she paused when she caught Louis looking at the floor. “Aren’t you?”

“Well, my dad’s gonna be out of the country Christmas day closing a business deal in Japan and my mom’s celebrating Christmas with her husband and Phil so I just mailed them their gifts ahead of time. I usually crash Marlon’s Christmas since his parents don’t mind but he might actually be spending most of the day with Sophie now that they’re dating. And Violet is going on a road trip with Prisha so…”

“Louis, if you want to spend Christmas morning with us, all you have to do is ask,” Clementine said, a smile crossing her lips. “We would love to have you,”

“Really?” Louis’ eyes widened in excitement. I mean if Lee doesn’t mind-”

“He won’t. If anything, he’ll be just as excited as A.J. is,” Clementine glanced down at her little brother who was practically buzzing with excitement.

“Well then, if everybody wants it… I’d love to spend Christmas with you guys,” Louis’ smile grew at his statement.

“Yeah! Louis is coming for Christmas! This is gonna be the best Christmas ever!” A.J. declared, wrapping his arms round Louis’ waist in a tight hug. Louis affectionally patted A.J.’s afro as Clementine looked on happily. It warmed her heart to see how taken A.J. was with Louis.  A few months into their relationship and it already felt like he was part of the family,”

“Well then,” Louis cleared his throat before nodding towards the basket. “Are we ready to check out?”

“We should probably pick up a few other things first. Glitter glue, puff paint, cotton balls, stuff like that,”

“Then away we go to the craft aisle!” Louis pointed his finger dramatically and began to stride off until he paused and looked back. “Do either of you know where the craft aisle is?”

Clementine rolled her eyes good naturedly. “Follow me, you two,”

 ---

About a half hour later they were back home. Lee, who had been busy in the kitchen while they’d been gone, greeted them at the door with a smile, his red apron dusted with flour as well as his hands. “Welcome back, you three. There’s hot cocoa on the table if you want to set up there,”

“Thanks, Lee. Ooh, is that cookies I smell?” Clementine asked, taking off her coat and setting it on the rack by the door.

“Yup. Sugar cookies – your favorite. Dusted them with red and green sprinkles and everything,”

“COOKIES!” A.J. shouted, booking it toward the kitchen.

“Only two to start out with, son, then we’ll see if you can handle more from there!” Lee called. He turned back to the couple with a smile, shaking his head. “That boy’s got me feeling my age. All I want to do is settle down with my hot coca by the tree but here he is tearing through the house like he hasn’t already been doing that all day,”

“He’ll refocus when we get the stocking supplies out. Louis?” Clementine looked back at her boyfriend who held up the bag of supplies.

“Got em right here,”

“Great. We’ll lay everything out on the kitchen table so we can get started while we snack,”

Bringing the supplies into the kitchen, they all worked together to clear off spots for each person to have their own workstation with space for their hot cocoa and plate of cookies as well. After a few minutes dedicated to eating their winter goodies they opened up the supplies and each person began to strategize on how they would decorate their personal stocking.

“I’m doing Disco Broccoli!” A.J. declared loudly, grabbing the red and green puff paint. “But I’m putting him in a Santa suit!”

“That sounds great, kiddo,” Lee replied with a smile. He had taken the brown paint and was beginning to lay it copiously across his stocking. Clementine eyed his choice of color warily.

“What are you making over there. A yule log?”

“Oh, I guess it sort of looks like that now, huh? No, I’m trying to recreate the crossing of the Delaware. Figure it’d be the perfect choice since it happened on Christmas Day. It may be a bit ambitious considering my skills, but I’m sure I’ll get by,”

Clementine shook her head, smiling. Her father’s love of American history really did make its way into every facet of life. Grabbing another tube of red puff paint, she began to write her name neatly atop the border of her stocking. Looking over, she saw that Louis was watching her closely, a tube of green puff paint in his hands. Slowly and delicately, he began to write his own name upon his stocking just as she had done with hers.

“Glad you could join us, Louis,” Lee commented, smiling over at the young man with approval.

“It’s an honor to be here, sir,” Louis replied, a shy smile on his face.

“Just call me Lee, son. You know that by now,”

Louis nodded quickly, his eyes falling back upon his work. It was clear that being around Lee sometimes still overwhelmed him. Clementine figured it was because he felt he had so much to prove. But in her eyes, he’d already proved himself already and she knew that Lee for the most part felt the same way. Clearing her throat, she decided to announce what had been decided on the shopping outing.

“A.J. and I invited Louis to spend Christmas morning with us,”

Louis’ eyes shot over to Clementine’s and then to her father, clearly nervous. But Lee’s reaction made it immediately clear his fear was unfounded.

“That sounds wonderful. There’s always room for another round the Christmas tree. I guess we’ll be keeping your stocking at our house then, right, Louis?”

“Yes, sir. Lee! Yes, Lee,”

Lee smiled encouragingly. “I’m sure our Christmas will be all the merrier with you there,” His approval seemed to set Louis’ mind at ease. The boy’s shoulders relaxed, and he returned to working on his stocking with a calmer focus than he’d had before.

As time progressed their stockings truly started to take form. Clementine was going for a classic look with a Christmas tree upon her stocking. The tree had always been one of her favorite parts of Christmas: picking it out, setting it up, decorating and basking in the glow of the Christmas lights. There had been many years without that after the death of her parents, but Lee had brought back the joy of welcoming in Christmas in full force. The Everetts always went big with their Christmas tree, getting at least an eight footer and decking it out with so many ornaments it was a wonder the branches didn’t collapse under their weight.

“Wow, Clem, that looks awesome!” A.J. commented, his eyes practically sparkling in admiration. His own stocking was smeared with all sorts of paints and spurts of glitter now, but if you squinted you could make out the concept of Disco Broccoli within the chaos.

“Thanks, goofball. Yours is looking really groovy too,” Clementine grinned when A.J. beamed at that description. Thanks to Disco Broccoli, he’d been calling everything he liked “groovy”. Glancing across the table at Lee’s stocking, Clementine tried to stifle a chuckle but only half succeeded.

Lee raised an eyebrow as he heard the sound, smiling over at his daughter. “What? Are you not impressed with my rendition of Crossing the Delaware thus far?” He held up his stocking so they all could see his work, leading to tittering laughter all around.

“It looks like poos with Christmas hats on!” A.J. chortled at the sight.

“Now I don’t think it’s that bad,” Lee protested, glancing back at his work. Sure you can’t really make out who anyone is considering they’re all stick figures and it sorta looks more like they’re floating on a cloud than paddling through the water, but it’s certainly a unique design,”

“Oh, definitely. The Christmas hats were an inspired design choice,” Louis replied, his smile growing when he saw Lee nod in approval at his comment.

“Thank you! I’m glad somebody enjoys my artistic efforts!”

Clementine looked over to see how Louis’ stocking was comparing to all of theirs and her eyes widened in surprise. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but surely not something so… delicate. Louis’ stocking was covered in a myriad of pale blue music notes of all sorts and scattered among them were falling snowflakes done in white glitter puff paint. Each snowflake had a heart at its center, giving an air of romance to the entire design.

Catching Clementine looking at his work, Louis paused in his careful application of another music note, grabbing a cookie and stuffing it in his mouth instead of coming up with something to say.

“I knew I was dating a musician but not an artist to boot,” Clementine commented, pausing in her own work to nab another cookie.

Louis smiled shyly at the praise before a playful smirk emerged. “Yours is looking impressive too, though may I suggest one addition? Instead of the classic star atop the Christmas tree, what if instead you had…” he paused, grabbing an orange pompom and placing it on the stocking, “a clementine?”

Lee chuckled. “That’s a good one, Louis,”

“Yeah, it’s like Clem’s own special tree!” A.J. stated happily.

Clementine rolled her eyes at the unanimous approval but couldn’t keep a smile from showing. “Alright then. If you all insist,”

“Hooray!” Louis leaned forward and placed a quick kiss upon Clementine’s cheek. “I knew you’d recognize my genius someday!”

That one definitely had Clementine rolling her eyes again. She was glad to see Louis truly unwinding and being himself in front of Lee though. The first few times he’d come over he’d been too nervous to even reach for her hand.

---

A little while longer and the stockings were all complete. After accounting for drying time, Lee shook them free of residual glitter then draped them on the bannister. “Quite the stockings we’ve made for ourselves. I think Santa will be proud when he sees them. He turned round to face the others. “Now that that’s done, should we settle in for a movie night? I was thinking it’d be the perfect opportunity to introduce Louis to Muppet Christmas Carol ,”

“That exists?” Louis asked in surprise. “I love the Muppets! I’m game!” He grinned over at Clementine who nodded in agreement.

“I’ve got nothing else planned for the night. A.J.?” She turned to ask her brother but found that he had already run over to the TV and pulled out the treasured DVD.

“It’s Muppet time!” A.J. bounced with excitement as he clutched the movie to his chest.

Grinning in amusement, the others all settled upon the couch to start the film. Clementine rested her head upon Louis’ shoulder as the lights dimmed. It had been a long day. As much as she loved Muppet Christmas Carol , she might just fall asleep on everyone. She stirred though as she felt Louis gently squeeze her hand. She looked over at her boyfriend, smiling softly.

“Thanks for including me today. And inviting me to Christmas,” he whispered.

“Of course. It’s always fun having you over. And…” Clementine paused, biting her lip as her cheeks lightly flushed, “I’m looking forward to Christmas with you,” Even in the darkness of the room she could see Louis’ large grin at her words. Before he could say anything more though, they were both hushed by Lee.

“No more talking you two – the movie’s starting,” Lee watched Muppet Christmas Carol religiously. There would be no chatting or pausing during the film.

Letting out an almost imperceptible sigh, Clementine nuzzled Louis’ shoulder and closed her eyes. It had been a wonderful winter day; she couldn’t wait for Christmas.

[loveactualharry]

December 1997. (Part 2)

Hello lovely people!

Just wanted to share with you Part 2 of December,1997 (Teacher!Harry).

You can read Part 1 here as well. 

Please, let me know what you think and if you want, like andreblog, it would mean a lot to me. Enjoy!

Warning: smut. Word count: 1217 words. Overview: Harry is a young, shy History teacher at Cambridge in 1997. When he meets Anna, his world turns upside down.

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December 14th , 1997.

Days went on, weeks went on and his love for his job grew bigger, too. He loved what he was doing; he was glad to have to chance to do what he loved for a living and he was also glad he was doing it in the best way he could. Actually, it wasn’t just his job making him happy. He refused to admit it to himself as well, but his interest in that girl had grown stronger day after day, and he honestly did not know what to do with it. Moreover, he did not know if he felt guiltier about that more than how horny he felt about her.

“So, what’s with this girl?”

“Mh?” he raised his eyes from the book in his hands to look at his roommate and best friend Louis, who was smoking a cigarette, sitting on the orange armchair in front of his fireplace.

“The girl, the one in your History class, the one you constantly talk about, Harold. What’s with her?” he clarified, giving him a distracted look.

“What’s the question Louis?” he sighed, remaining in the same position, with a book in his hands and his glasses still on.

“Did you fuck her?”

He widened his green eyes and instantly blushed, pretending to bring his attention back to the page of his book. “I did not…do it with her, Louis.”

“Well, when are you going to fuck her?” his blue-eyed friend asked, letting a puff of smoke come out of his lips. Harry hated the smell of smoke, and he had told Louis several times, but he was stubborn as hell, so he had grown used to that, somehow.

“I am not going to bed with my students, Louis.” He murmured slowly, turning the yellow page with his long, thick finger.

“Whaaat?” Louis looked at him as if he had just told him the weirdest theory on earth. “What are you talking about?! How old are you, fifty?!”

He raised his eyes from his book once again, now sitting straight to face his friend and look into his eyes.“No, I am not fifty, Louis, but I am twenty-seven and she is nineteen and she is also a student, while I am a teacher.” He said, looking dead serious, with his eyebrows furrowed and his glasses still on.

“So what? It’s not like she’s fifteen. She is nineteen and I am sure she wants to have a good fuck with the teacher too.” He counterstroke, as if they were having a tennis match with words.

“I am a teacher, Louis. This is my job, it would be against my ethics and I could get fired and what if-”

“What if, what if” Louis said, imitating his deep, raspy voice, as he rose from his armchair, holding the cigarette in his hand. “Fuck ethics, Harold, fuck all the ‘what ifs’. You worry too much about every little thing and that is probably the reason why you’re so shy, and, still a virgin, too! You need to relax and take things as they come!”

“I worry too much? You do not worry at all, Louis! Do you even think about consequences sometimes? Do you have any idea of what could happen if…If I did it and someone found out?” he rose from the couch as well, furiously throwing his book on it.

“It’s not like you’re gonna have to write it on the fucking wall, Styles! You need to relax and stop jerking off in your room thinking about her!” Louis said cheekily, before taking one more drag from his cigarette.

He widened his eyes and opened his mouth in shock, his words almost coming out as a little whimper, despite his low, deep voice “I do NOT-”

“Oh, please, Harry! These walls are thin and you are loud.” he finally said, shaking his head with an insolent smile on his face.

Blushing, he looked at him for a few more seconds before clenching his fists. “Fuck off, Tomlinson.” He murmured, letting out a nervous sigh as he turned and slammed the door of his bedroom after getting in it.

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 Arguing with Louis had always been among the things that put him in a bad mood the most. Not only because he was his best friend but also because, most of the times, the things he said during the arguments, were right. It’s not like Harry didn’t know he was right, it was just that, most of the times, we struggle with admitting things to ourselves more than how we struggle to admit things to everyone else. However, things were not always so easy and straightforward, and mostly not so easy to deal with. Not from his point of view, at least. Louis had always been more easy going, while he had been the shy one, concerned about everyone and everything. Maybe he was right, though. Maybe he needed to relax and let things go the way they should, without trying to keep an obsessive amount of control on every little situation. But for Harry, it was not that easy, especially because this situation could have had some serious consequences and, moreover, he couldn’t go to her and tell her he had had a major crush on her since day one.

That night, his head was heavy and aching from all the thoughts going around it, and he needed some relief. And not only because he was thinking too much but also because the bulge in his pants had become extremely visible and so painful that it was hard to ignore it anymore. Ever since he had met her, he had been thinking about her every night, slowly sliding his hands in his boxers, wrapping it around his cock and stroking it till he came hard, moaning her name. That night was no exception. Often, he would think about her sitting on top of him, riding him till they both came, moaning each other’s name. This had been his most frequent fantasy ever since she had spoken about her theory about powerful women and their effects on men. She was right; he thought: most men were afraid of powerful women, mostly because they knew how easy it was for them to take control and blow them away. He had always been fascinated by powerful and clever women, and the fact that this young girl had basically given him a half speech about that on his first day as a teacher, had turned him on in such a way that he couldn’t keep his hands off his cock for too long without being ridiculously horny.

“Oh, Fuck. Fuck me…” he whispered, biting his bottom lip as his hand moved furiously on his painfully hard cock, before reaching his third orgasm that night, thinking about her riding him. His cum came out in several white spurts, making a mess on his shirt, as he let his head rest on his pillow. He closed his eyes and sighed.

He really needed to do something about it. But how could he? It was so wrong so…not him. Furthermore, he had never been with a woman before and the thought of being with her both scared and excited him more than anything else in the entire world.

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

Good morning/afternoon/evening/night, Ralph. (I think I covered all my time zone bases there). I have been thinking lot lately about all the rhetoric in the fandom about Harry’s health and well-being, and how loud it has felt this year. To be clear, I am not asking for you to weigh in with your own speculations about how Harry is doing, unless you feel comfortable doing so. (I’m not telling you what to do either way, obviously, seeing as I am only a little grey icon in your inbox and have no right or way to demand anything of you.) I’m more looking for guidance or even just your rambling thoughts about what is respectful and appropriate when we’re wondering about a celebrity’s well being, and how you handle your own thoughts and assumptions about this. I feel like over the course of the last year we’ve just been inundated with all this panic and speculation about how Harry is unhappy or unhealthy or otherwise not himself, going all the way back to the Jingle Bell Ball Golden performance. Every time we get any new content there’s a wave of people saying he looks too thin and overworked like he’s not getting enough food or rest, or overweight and out of shape (pick a lane, people), he looks stressed, he looks sad, he looks angry, his eyes have lost their sparkle, his smile is dim, he’s addicted to drugs, he’d addicted to drugs because Jeff is doping him up to keep him going, he’s going to quit music, he’s going to hurt himself, blah blah blah. And the people making these “observations” hide behind the assertion that they’re just worried for his health when they’re faced with any sort of criticism.

This whole ongoing rhetoric feels really…icky? I suppose? to me. I do kind of think he has looked more drawn and intense (“stressed” and “sad”) in the content we’ve gotten this year, but I also think (1) the content we’ve gotten has largely been pap shots and stunt stuff, (2) this year he had to postpone his tour, and we know he loves performing so that must have really sucked, and (3) this year has just been rather shit for all of us, we’re all stressed and sad and scared and frustrated by the larger political and social goings on, and by the ways our own lives are impacted. In the past, the content we’ve gotten where Harry looks the happiest and most at ease has been performance footage or him with his family and loved ones. We haven’t gotten any of that this year. It makes sense that the pictures we do get would feature him looking less than completely relaxed and jubilant. And then there are all the assumptions that he’s lost weight or gained weight and is therefore unhealthy or on drugs or drinking a lot and that just honestly pisses me off. You cannot tell jack shit about a person’s health from their weight, and especially not in random pictures taken at random intervals in random settings. To pretend you can is harmful, and Harry probably won’t see you making these assumptions about his mental and physical health based on the prominence of his cheekbones in a set of pap pics, but friends and strangers who are already struggling with their weight will. And the assertion that someone is dealing with an addiction of any kind (or, god forbid, and I hate even typing this, being subjected to drug use at the hands of someone with power over them) is an allegation that a) you can’t make from one picture and b) has really deep, life altering, tragic and painful and hard consequences for that person and all their loved ones, and deserves more respect and deference than to be treated as something you can just throw out into the great wild beyond and then forget about.

But beyond the fact that people are making hurtful and invasive allegations and assumptions about a real person’s private life based entirely on a very very limited and posed and edited set of content that was hand chosen to be given to us, I think the thing that bothers me the most is it feels like the people who are driving these conversations are doing so because they want something from Harry. It’s never (or rarely, I suppose) “man Harry looks tired in the pictures we’ve gotten lately, I really hope he’s taking care of himself, things have been so hard for us all.” It’s always “Harry has been so withdrawn and sad and angry he’s not communicative with fans and he’s not willing to engage with them when he sees them in public and I miss him. I miss my Harry. I miss happy Harry. I want him back. Give me Harry back.” Which tells me the concern isn’t Harry or Harry’s health, but rather the feeling that Harry owes us something that he hasn’t been giving, and now he must pay up or give us a valid excuse.

Then I do, occasionally though, find myself thinking “am I doing exactly what I’m complaining about? Am I assuming the worst of people based on a limited set of insights into their lives?” And in the wake of the Britney legal battle that has been unfolding recently, I sometimes wonder if maybe as fans we do have kind of a duty to call out celebrities when they seem to be struggling or acting incredibly out of character. Most of the time I follow this up immediately with the thought that I’m not responsible for anyone else’s health and safety, much less that of a 27 year old man I’ve never met and have no connection to beyond liking his music and his face, and I do truly believe that, but there is some part of me that feels uneasy just turning off all my concern, because I am a person who tends to be greatly concerned about everyone, who just wants everyone to be happy and healthy and safe and loved, and who wants to help people feel that way, where and when I can. So I guess what I’m asking, in the incredibly long winded and winding way I ask anyone anything (my poor husband, he gets a novel from me every time I ask what he thinks we should do for dinner) is do you have any of these same feelings and concerns? How do your navigate them? Where do you draw a line? Do you just withdraw completely from this type of speculation? How do you balance being a kind, engaged, empathetic fan with being a respectful, responsible fan who knows their limits? (And man, isn’t that the ultimate question?). Your blog is one I end up on whenever something big happens or a particular conversation pops up, because I’ve found that I really value the way you break things down and are willing to consider them from many perspectives, so I appreciate you even taking the time to read this.

Thanks for your interesting thoughts about Harry anon. I feel like there's a lot to respond to here and I'm going to start by answering the questions your questions - and then I'm going to get distracted and talk about a post I really hated.

I'm always a little bit worried about Harry, and all 1D members. He might be really struggling, that's always a possibility. Harry has lived a very intensely scheduled high workload life since he was 16. He might have had all sorts of responses to the fact that that schedule was removed, or anything else that is happening in his life. But I feel like I'm generally pretty boundaried about those concerns.

I think part of it is because my base line assumption is that boyband members are pretty fucked up. You don't need to know a lot about the history of touring musicians to know that. I think I've said before that if 1D members are eating every day and not doing needle drugs then they're doing better than we have any right to expect (and if they're not eating and are doing needle drugs, then those are coping mechanisms for intense stress and there's no shame in either of them).

I do think it helps with boundaries to be starting from a point that acknowledges how hard it is to be a popstar. I'm all about fantasies of omnipotence and in my day to day life I think I can fix all sorts of things, but I don't think I can make any difference to any 1D member's life.

In addition, I am profoundly affected by having been a fan throughout 2016. We know what it looks like when Louis was going through a horrendous, devastating, trauma - and it looks pretty normal.

None of this means I don't have opinions, or worries, but I am aware that my opinions or worries aren't facts. It's rare that I think that my worries should matter even to people reading my tumblr, let alone other fans in general, and certainly not Harry. You say 'am I doing the same thing as other people assuming the worst about people...', but I'd argue that that's actually not the problem. There's nothing wrong with assuming the worst of people. What is wrong is when fans think their assumptions about a celebrity should matter to anyone else. You don't have to turn off your concern to think that it's not a priority.

I definitely think it would be a very bad thing if people took the moral as the 'free Britney' movement as 'fans should call out celebrities when they think they're struggling'. That sort of surveillance isn't effective or useful. What has been useful for Britney is solidarity in a well documented power struggle, which is a very different thing.

And I can't emphasise enough how important the 'well documented' aspect of this is. What most fan worrying about Harry amounts to is: 'I don't like what he's doing, and there's no way he'd do things I didn't like and therefore there must be something wrong with him'. That's a really controlling way of thinking about people. I really think it's important not to reproduce that abusers logic.

I am pretty well insulated from that sort of discourse from a very well weeded dash. But I saw a post that was mostly about other fandom stuff, that treated assumptions like: "Harry must hate being with Olivia and he's suffering and it's clear he's not happy with his image and his team" as building blocks that you don't even have to argue for (this is the post - and I'm going to come back to one of the things someone said that was even worse in a second).

Lets stop for a minute and imagine that Harry hasn't got a problem pretending to date Olivia, and his main concerns are about the messiness of life and his career at this point in time. It is really fucked up and agressive, and pretty hateful towards Harry, to say 'oh he couldn't possibly want this. It's clear that he hates it.' etc. (I feel like I've been making this argument for years about people who object to Louis doing such things as smoking and not performing middle-class culture for them). When fans trash talk what Harry is doing at the moment, and suggest that believing he could be choosing what he's doing is some how an act of huge disrespect to him, there is every chance they are trash talking him and the choices he's making.

The final thing I want to draw attention to is how often this sort of fan storytelling is combined with a profound lack of interest in what 1D members are actually going through. The tags screen shotted and added on to the post I reblogged actually described Holivia as Douis 2.0. Apparently assuming that there was absolutely no connection between Douis, and Louis and his family's ultimately successful efforts to privacy as Jay was dying. What the fuck is wrong with people that they ignore that, and erase that? There's far more interest in making up 1D members suffering so that fans can continue to tell the stories they want to tell, than actual acknowledgement of what we know that they went through.

Sorry I got distracted. What I'm trying to say is that there's nothing wrong with having feelings about celebrities or telling stories about them. But it's so important to acknoweldge the limits of your knowledge and power, even when fandom discourse encourages the opposite.

[ya-wah]

Analysis: Just Hold On -- Louis Tomlinson & Steve Aoki

So, I’ve been thinking of doing something like this for a while, because I really enjoy analyzing song lyrics and finding meaning in them for myself. I think all of the 1D boys are spectacular songwriters and especially Louis writes some of my favorite lyrics; there’s so much depth and richness in them and I’m really looking forward to taking a closer look at them! My plan is to work my way through his discography whenever I feel like analyzing something, and then hopefully start doing the other boys’ music as well.

Just Hold On is Louis’ very first solo single (and in my opinion one of his most underrated songs), so this is going to be my starting point. Obviously this is all just my personal interpretation and I’m not stating that any of this is a fact, but I still hope someone else can take something away from this as well!

So, Just Hold On is one of those songs that I never really consciously go back to, but whenever it comes on shuffle I always think to myself, “Wow, I really need to listen to this more.” Even though it is a very different sound than what we ended up getting on Walls, obviously also due to Steve Aoki being on the track, Just Hold On is definitely a solid first release from him, and I wouldn’t have been mad at all if he had continued in this EDM, dance track direction with his music. It suits him very well, plus this song is one of my favorite vocal performances from him, especially the chorus. I also really like that even though it is a more dance-y type of song and you would expect the focus to stay on the production, Louis still manages to sneak in some incredible songwriting.

(Just a little aside, I know the lyrics are generally attributed to Johannah dying, but he has said himself that that meaning just sort of happened later on and it wasn’t intended to be about that, which is why I’m going to leave that aspect aside in this interpretation. I’m not saying that he doesn’t want people to interpret the song that way, because he has definitely talked a lot about that double meaning himself, but I just don’t really feel comfortable talking about his mother in a context where he has said himself that he didn’t mean for the song to be taken that way.)

In general, the song has a very uplifting and comforting tone to it. The speaker is talking to someone who seems to be at a watershed in their life, saying “Hey, I know this is scary, but the things you’re worried about aren’t that important in the grand scheme of things. You’ll figure everything out and it’s gonna be okay.” For me personally, as someone who gets anxiety over the stupidest little things and is always fretting about making decisions and irrevocably messing things up somehow, this song feels very consolatory, and it’s a message that I definitely need to internalize and go back to more often.

Wish that you could build a time machine So you could see The things no one can see

This lyric could mean that the person the speaker is talking to in this song wants to go back in time to see the past, perhaps to find comfort in an earlier time where everything was easier and they didn’t have to worry about the things they do now. However, coupled with the “So you could see / The things no one can see”, it could actually (in my opinion more likely) refer to wishing you were able to go to the future, to see how everything is going to turn out, something obviously no one else can see, because it hasn’t happened yet. I can definitely relate to that -- I often find myself wishing that I was able to press fast-forward on my life and go to a utopian future where everything has already worked out for me, so I can skip the hard part of figuring things out and making mistakes, even though those things are essential to growing up and becoming your own person.

Feels like you're standing on the edge Looking at the stars And wishing you were them

The person being spoken to is standing on the edge, they’re at the cusp of something; perhaps they need to make a big, life-changing decision, or maybe something happened in their life that created a disruption of the status quo and now they don’t really know where to go from there. They look at the stars and wish they were them to be able to escape the uncertainty, another feeling I think a lot of people are able to relate to. Wishing you were a part of the stars, removed from all the hardships and hurt on earth, somewhere far away in the galaxy.

What do you do when a chapter ends? Do you close the book and never read it again?

Again, this lyric is referring to a turning point in the addressee’s life. When something happens to you or you make a decision that changes everything about your life (when a chapter of your life story ends, so to speak) what do you do with that? Do you go forward and never look back or do you continue to acknowledge the past, even if it might hurt?

Talking about closing the book after a chapter ends without specifying that it’s actually the last chapter of the book might also mean prematurely putting an aspect of your life behind you, when it might not be done yet. After all, who reads one chapter and closes the book? Even if it’s a chapter you don’t like, it just makes up a small part of the whole story and the best parts might be yet to come, however you won’t find that out unless you actually read the whole thing. Another interpretation could be that the person being spoken to thinks they’re done with their past, that they’ve closed that chapter of their life and have come to terms with it, when that’s not actually true and they still have a lot of work to do on themselves or on certain things they’re dealing with.

Where do you go when your story's done? You can be who you were or who you'll become

This one is pretty self-explanatory in my eyes. When your story is done, when you've closed a chapter of your life, you have the choice if you let your experiences shape you and make you grow as a person or if you cling to the past and want to go back to the way you and things around you used to be. I think it's important to note that even though the latter is generally regarded more negatively and seen as being stuck (even the way I just described it in the last sentence suggests that the correct decision would be to go forward and evolve) the lyrics don't issue any judgment. The choice is truly yours, if you want to become someone new and let yourself be changed, or if you want to stay the way you are now, and the speaker doesn't ascribe any moral value to one or the other.

Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh, if it all goes wrong Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh, darling just hold on

This is the most important part of the song, the part that Louis really wants the listener to take away from the song. It's repeated in the pre-chorus, the chorus and the post-chorus (going off of Genius here, I have no idea what these words mean lol), the song is named after this lyric, it's the phrase that turns up the most often.

It’s why I said this was a comforting song: yes, while there might be bad times in your life, times where you don't know where to go and feel like everything is going wrong and you would love to just give up, the speaker is telling you, the only thing you can do is hold on. You can apply that to a personal crisis, to your mental health, to a job, to creative struggles (I personally wouldn't really apply it to a romantic or platonic relationship, just because if everything in a relationship goes wrong the best thing to do is probably to let it end and not hold on). Again, an important point to make: if you hold on, there are no guarantees that it will actually get better, that life will become easier, but you still have to do it, because sometimes that's the only thing you can do.

The sun goes down and it comes back up The world it turns no matter what

This refers to what I said in the beginning about how none of the things that seem to be such giant obstacles and struggles in your life actually matter in the long term. The sun will still complete its cycle no matter what happens, the world will still keep turning. For some people, that might seem depressing; along the lines of “No matter what I do, it doesn't make a difference anyways”, but I think this... insignificance can also be comforting. You have all these issues and struggles that seem insurmountable right now, but when it comes down to it, you're just a small and insignificant part of history. For the tiny time span that humans have existed on this earth, for hundreds of years people have had to deal with similar things to you, very often with things that are much harder than what you're going through, so you'll be able to deal with this as well, no matter how daunting and scary it seems right now.

Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh, if it all goes wrong Darling, just hold on Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh, darling, just hold on Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh

It's not over 'til it's all been said It's not over 'til your dying breath

Again, really driving home the notion of the book not being over, of sticking around and holding on, even if it’s hard and even if you don’t want to anymore. There have been so many times in my life where I messed up really badly, or where something so terrible happened and it felt like the whole world would just stop and my life would be over right there. But it never was, and, like it’s being said here, until everything has been said and you have actually taken your last breath, your world will keep going.

So what do you want them to say when you're gone? That you gave up or that you kept going on?

While I have personally not given a lot of thought to this (yet), because I’m in a phase where I don’t even fully know who I am yet, I know a lot of people place great importance on how they’re going to be remembered. At the risk of sounding like a huge emo, it’s like the song Leave Out All the Rest by Linkin Park: “When my time comes / Forget the wrong that I've done / Help me leave behind some / Reasons to be missed”. We all want to be remembered, we want to be missed, and of course we want to be remembered as a good person who did good deeds and who never gave up, even if things got hard.

What do you do when a chapter ends? Do you close the book and never read it again? Where do you go when your story's done? You can be who you were or who you'll become Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh, if it all goes wrong Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh, darling just hold on

The sun goes down and it comes back up The world it turns no matter what Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh, if it all goes wrong Darling, just hold on

Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh Darling, just hold on Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh If it all goes wrong Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh Darling just hold on

Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh If it all goes wrong, darling just hold on

(Lyrics are from AZLyrics.com.)

So, there’s not really much I can say to the rest of the lyrics, as they’re just repeating what I already talked about. I also want to add that while doing this I rewatched the music video, probably for the first time since it came out, and I have to say, it’s honestly not one of my favorite videos that he’s done. For one, he’s not even in it; I don’t understand the weird time travel thing they’ve got going on (I even checked the time zones for London, Las Vegas and Kuwait in the hopes to get a better perspective on the whole thing, but they don’t even match the numbers they showed on the screen lmao); and I also don’t really see any connection between the song and the video. The couple is cute though, and I like the theme of living in the moment and having fun without a care for the world, it does fit with the upbeat, dance-y nature of the track, even if it might not match the lyrics that well.

I guess this is it then! This was a lot of fun and I definitely gained an even deeper appreciation of Louis’ writing on this song. If you want to, you can let me know if you would have interpreted anything differently, or in what specific way the song resonates with you. Listen to it, if you haven’t done so in a while, and I hope I’ll be able to do Back To You soon as well!

[montagnarde1793]

Ribbons of Scarlet: A predictably terrible novel on the French Revolution (part 3)

Parts 1, 2, 4 and 5.

Style Issues

 Stylistically, there’s a great deal of “tell don’t show” in this book, especially as regards the actual politics. The only things that are really concrete are the characters’ romantic entanglements and scenes of violence. This is a flaw that runs so deep that correcting it would mean writing a completely different book.

 One thing that they could have done that would have made it somewhat more bearable, however, regards the use of language. In a book written in English but that takes place in France and where all the characters are French, please, I’m begging you, do not randomly (and often ungrammatically) insert whichever French words and phrases you half-remember from high school French class into descriptions and dialogue. It doesn’t give the characters a flavor of being French, it gives you a flavor of ignorance.

The key word here is “randomly”: note that I’m not talking about things like terms of address, exclamations, etc., for which there is an established convention, or terms for which there might not be an exact equivalent in English. No, I’m talking about this kind of thing: “[…] running a hand through his short-cropped noir hair” (p. 352). Please, resist the urge!

 Also, this isn’t strictly a style issue, as the grammar is the least of the problems with it, but I don’t really know where else to put it... Each of the six parts opens with an epigraph. Here’s the one for Émilie de Sainte-Amaranthe’s (p. 437) :

 “It was a sensual delight for l’homme rouge to see fall in the basket these charming heads and their ruby blood streaming under the hideous cleaver.”

—Archives Nationale [sic]

 I can’t believe I have to say this to a fellow historian, but just saying a quote is from the archives is bizarrely and baffling amateurish. It’s like saying a quote is from the library, or from a book or from the internet. Without further information, it’s about as useful a citation as saying it came to you in a dream. Why? Because it tells us nothing about the author or the date or any kind of context and therefore gives us no real way of evaluating it — though the lurid, sensationalist language doesn’t inspire confidence. Since the author of this section more than any other seems to take as a principle of novel-writing that whatever is the most over-the-top makes for the best fiction, I would say sure, why not, but as the authors also apparently want their depiction of “history” to be taken seriously… I mean, what is there to even say?

  Writing What You Want to Know

 There’s a problem throughout this book with characters talking about 18th France like it’s a place they’ve only read about in books rather than the only place they’ve ever lived and therefore the only reality *they* know firsthand. Now, obviously, the authors, like the rest of us, *have* only read about a 200+ year-old setting in books (or come to know it through various types of primary sources), but good historical fiction should be able to make you forget that, or at least come close.

I can’t entirely decide whether we’re looking at a failure of research here or of imagination — or just clumsy handling of exposition. I suspect it’s some mixture of all three.

 Allow me to explain. The clumsy exposition is a result of the aforementioned lack of trust in the reader as well, I suspect, of the few pages allotted to each author, which don’t allow for a more natural immersion of the reader into a world that is entirely alien to them but is made up of both new and familiar elements to the characters.

 The research vs imagination issue is more complex. I’m a firm believer in the updated adage “write what you want to know,” but if you’re going to do that, the intermediate step between wanting and writing is inevitably research. And well, there’s research and there’s research. For a novel especially, you don’t just want to be researching what happened, the concrete material facts such as who was present for what event or what a given figure’s relationship was to the people around them, but also people’s mentalities/sensibilities. To plausibly write from their point of view, you also have to investigate the reasons they might have believed what they believed and to take that investigation seriously, whether or not you agree.

 This was achieved better with some characters than others and again, I’m not entirely sure whether it’s for lack of research or lack of ability to empathize with certain points of view. Ironically, the chapter on Mme Élisabeth is probably the best handled. The author of that section says she wanted to be “fair” (back matter, p. 12) to her subject and I think she succeeds better than her co-authors, while showing that Mme Élisabeth, convinced of the absolute validity of the divine right of her brother, advocates at every turn for violently repressing the Revolution. She’s allowed to articulate her (frankly pretty abhorrent) beliefs in a plausible manner.

 Perhaps the author of this section is just a better writer than her co-authors, but I think there’s more to it than that. I obviously can’t read minds, but from the text of the novel itself as well as from the authors’ notes, I get the impression that we’re dealing with a dual problem of epistemology (i.e. how do you know what you know?) and politics. In either case, it’s not a coincidence if Mme Élisabeth is the best drawn character… and Reine Audu and Pauline Léon are the worst.

 First, on the epistemology side: whether consciously or not, it seems to me as if the authors largely started out with the assumption that they already basically understood their protagonists. Sophie de Grouchy is so ahead of her time she might as well be a modern woman, got it, no problem… Reine Audu is an avatar of the “mob,” (the author of her section’s words, not mine, back matter, p. 8), pitiable because of her poverty but with no real politics beyond that of hunger and resentment… Pauline Léon is a “well-intentioned extremist” to use TV Tropes parlance — you would think that label would apply better to Charlotte Corday, but the latter ends up being so saintly she basically converts Pauline Léon (in what is quite possibly the most maddening moment in the whole damn book)… and so on. If I’m right, the authors’ assumptions about these archetypes made them not really feel the need to dig too deeply into the question of what made these women tick, either through research or empathy.

 We don’t know much about Reine Audu or Pauline Léon, but there has been a fair amount of research into the beliefs of the popular movement and revolutionary crowds from Georges Lefebvre onward (most of it tending to dispel the lazy stereotypes on display here). The authors either didn’t bother with it or made poor use of it (as is evidently the case with poor Dominique Godineau, who does figure in the bibliography).

 The book does Pauline Léon a disservice on both sides, mischaracterizing her beliefs for good and for ill. They make feminism as a contemporary audience would understand it her primary cause and her support for the rest of the popular movement’s program (in which we learn that women and people of color are to be included, but not actually what it consists of...) accessory and easily disposable so Charlotte Corday can be proved right and “radical” men can prove to be the real enemy.

 (Which… I could roll with it if the idea was just that men of all political flavors can be misogynists, but as usual, the message is all men are potential rapists (except Condorcet, Buzot, La Fayette and Louis XVI, of course) but the further left they are the rape-ier they get. That’s not how that works.)

 Anyway, the point is, these are characters the authors seem to have gone in assuming they understood, either because they found them relatable or because they thought they knew what archetype they corresponded to. The author of the section on Mme Élisabeth, on the other hand, writes that this was a character that it took some effort to understand because the character’s worldview was so different from the author’s and that of her presumed readers. This was also the case to some degree with the author of Manon Roland’s section, who writes about having to grapple with her protagonist’s not being a feminist (a position that this author bizarrely seems to think was rare at the time). Regardless, in both cases, the effort to understand, along with the existence of more sources produced by the character they were attempting to inhabit, produced better results.

 But again, I think there’s also a political element. Remember how I mentioned that this book’s main flaw is its feeling of artificiality? (I mean, to the point that the rest of this critique is really just about understanding why it feels so artificial.) One of the moments that felt the most authentic to me was Mme Élisabeth’s extravagant shoe-buying habit, her feeling bad about it and her confessor reassuring her that it’s fine because she hasn’t taken a vow of poverty, after all. And I don’t mean ‘authentic’ necessarily in the sense of ‘historically accurate’ — I don’t know enough about Mme Élisabeth off the top of my head to comment on her shoe collection. But I did think: there, consumerism and guilt about consumerism are in fact much more relatable to the middle class authors and their presumed middle class audience than hunger and privation — or activism relating to socio-economic issues, for that matter. Which is how we end up, here as in a lot of other media, with a relatable royal and revolutionary caricatures.

 This is also a good demonstration of how research and imagination or empathy play off each other. Marge Piercy didn’t have more information about Pauline Léon than the authors of this book. In fact, she had less: she writes in the preface of her book that she learned that Léon’s mother was in fact still alive at the time of the Revolution when it was too late to change what she had written. Credit where credit is due, once again, this new book corrects that error.

But in every other respect, Piercy’s version is far superior, because Pauline Léon’s views as well as her experience are taken seriously. This is no doubt due in large part because Piercy herself has been an activist for various left-wing causes. Her activism surely allowed her to relate to her characters, but far from writing a simple projection from her own experience, it allowed her, just as importantly, to entertain the notion that there was something there to be taken seriously. And therefore, that it was worth researching what precisely these figures were fighting for and not simply the question of why people get caught up in “extremism.” That’s why Pauline Léon and Claire Lacombe’s chapters are the best in City of Darkness, City of Light, while Pauline Léon and Reine Audu’s are the worst in this book.

Next time: inaccuracies big and small!