#apparently 60+ year old women like to party

[fizzingwizard]

Randomly visited reddit and saw this:

My first thought: it's an incel pretending to be a woman, because what modern woman thinks she's spoiled milk a 30??? (Aside from also trashing her girl friends - girl, get better friends!) But their profile doesn't seem weird in any way, so, I guess there are some people out there who really somehow believe youth ends at 29. Even some who have aged past it.

It's not even true that all 30 year olds are less beautiful than they were at 20. People age in different ways at at different rates: yeah, your likelihood of getting wrinkles and gray hairs is only ever going to go up. But some people don't have their style figured out in their twenties - some people turn thirty and freaking bloom. And you can't call that a late bloomer. 40 isn't a late bloomer either! 20 is nice but it's not the heaven on earth it's cracked up to be, and 30 is just getting started.

Idk about the rest of you but you know those posts about how embarrassing it is to look back on 14? Yeah, related to those when I was 20. Now I've passed the big 3-0, and guess what - I think 20 year old me was so silly lol. So insecure, so afraid to make mistakes, so resistant to change. I enjoyed my twenties, but my early thirties have so far been way better: I'm more confident, less self-involved, and I find happiness so much more easily than I did back when I thought everything I did had to matter So Damn Much. And if you think that doesn't relate to being attractive: confidence is 90% of it. Just walk up and smile. A confident, happy person always attracts others even if they're just average-looking.

Also for people who like men, don't forget: men in their 30s usually aren't quite the energizer bunnies they were in their 20s when it comes to ~sexy times~ The 20-year-old stud who insisted he could go for a roll multiple times a day, every day, is probably much less gung ho at 30. And also more forward-thinking, and less amaaaaazed by omg boobies!!! When you're young, half the excitement is just how new everything is. It gets less intense, thank goodness. (But it's still hot!)

This post just totally rubbed me the wrong way. It read as a still young woman anxiously wringing her hands in apology for having the audacity to be single at... 30?? And apparently not trusting women to have good advice about dating at 30 (so no point in me responding to her, lol), but perfectly comfortable kissing up to incel mindsets such as "women past 25 should accept that they're sloppy seconds" etc. "Value as a partner" do you have intrinsic worth as a human being?? Yes??? Then your value does NOT degrade. Yeah, you might have gray hair, the horror, so unsexy (I've had very visible grays since I was 23 and been dyeing since 26 lmao). Doesn't mean you're less hot than some 20 year old who doesn't know what she's doing. Doesn't mean it'll be at all hard to find a partner who will love you warts and all. Do you have this same expectation of men? Are you gonna start dating a 30 year old dude and then complain that he gets tired more quickly than a 20 year old would?? Is he less sexy just because he doesn't party all night and drink twice his weight without effect? Overrated overrated overrated!

My parents divorced in their 60s. My mom's got a new boyfriend who takes her dancing under the full moon. They're living their best lives way past their so-called "prime" and no, that is not rare - it's just a choice. If you view yourself as having some expiration date, you're not gonna do anything to improve your happiness once you're past it. Don't let incels or misogyny or whatever convince you your perfectly wholesome milk has gone bad, because that is a self-fulfilling prophecy.

ETA: Well, while I was working this got 150 notes, and although that's barely a drop in the bucket, it's still a lot more than my rants usually get (about 2 lol). So I just want to clarify a couple things so I stop getting comments about them.

This post was from the askmen subreddit. I left that out, feeling "reddit" was context enough, but I guess the implications may not have been obvious, especially to tumblr users who don't also use reddit. Askmen isn't a horrible place (a number of the responders pointed out why they prefer older women to younger ones), but many of its members have a pretty incel-adjacent vibe. Plus there are a number of women (real or not) who post there, many of whom have a similar brown-nosey "unlike those radical feminists, I'm a woman who knows her place" attitude.

It's fine to suggest the OP may have internalized misogyny from being abused - but it's not a given, as nothing in the post is a definite indication of abuse by itself. Big kudos for the compassion - just keep in mind that my response was about general attitudes towards dating post-twenties and not about abuse victims.

To the person who thinks a relationship of six years makes a difference somehow?: You seem to have interpreted my post as an attack on people who feel insecure about returning to dating after a breakup. But I think it's clearly nothing to do with that. Of course it is natural to have anxieties about being single after so long, but nowhere in this post was that denied or mocked. Whether you've been together one year or six, this post would always be weird - those natural anxieties don't make misogynistic mindsets about decrepit 30-year-old women any less gross. If you had decided to write a reaction to the OP's post, perhaps you would have chosen to center it on the effects of coming off a long term relationship, and I'm sure it'd be insightful. However, I am not you, and I chose to react to the attitudes around aging in relationships reflected in the post.

[legitimatesatanspawn]

Double checking the timeline reminded me of some fun facts:

Bilbo, Age 18: Frodo's father (Drogo Baggins) is born.

Bilbo, Age 21: The Fell Winter. Loss of crops, "large white wolves" (could be wargs) invade the Shire.

Bilbo, Age 22: Region just south of Brandywine floods.

Bilbo, Age 26: Bilbo's paternal grandmother (Laura Baggins nee Grubb) dies at 102, his father (Bungo Baggins) becomes head of family at 70.

Bilbo, Age 30: Frodo's mother (Primula Baggins nee Brandybuck) is born.

Bilbo, Age 33: Officially considered an adult by Shire reckoning.

Bilbo, Age 36: Bilbo's father (Bungo Baggins) dies at 80. Presumably old age.

Bilbo, Age 44: Bilbo's mother (Belldonna Baggins nee Took) dies at 82. Presumably old age.

Bilbo, Age 50-52: The Dwarf Company meets at Bag End in Hobbiton (50/51), Quest ends (51), Bilbo gets home (52).

Bilbo, Age 78: Frodo is born and presumably lives in Hobbiton.

Bilbo, Age 90; Frodo, Age 12: Frodo's parents die (boating accident). Respectively 72 and 60.

Frodo is taken in by his maternal uncle's family (Rorimac Brandybuck) and lives in Brandy Hall in Buckland. Because his parents would often take him to visit his mother's family there, presumably just as much as they'd visit their Baggins side relatives in Hobbiton.

Bilbo, Age 99; Frodo, Age 21: Bilbo officially names Frodo his heir and brings him to Bag End. Note, it's implied he's had lots of visits and everything in between so its not just out of nowhere.

Bilbo, Age 111; Frodo, Age 33: Gandalf visits Bilbo regarding the Ring. The Birthday Party. Frodo is officially considered an adult in the Shire.

Bilbo, Age 112: Bilbo moves into Rivendell.

Bilbo, Age 128; Frodo, Age 50: Frodo gets visited by Gandalf regarding the Ring. Frodo leaves the Shire and reaches Rivendell. Fellowship is founded.

Bilbo, Age 129; Frodo, Age 51: Sauron is defeated. Later, Grima kills Saruman.

Bilbo, Age 131; Frodo, Age 53: Bilbo and Frodo sail off to Valinor.

Presumably Bilbo and Frodo live near/in Valinor for the rest of their days. Barring health issues, Frodo should live another 40 years.

So remember when Bilbo was stressing out over the dwarves using his mother's glorybox to scrape his traveling boots off on? Keep in mind a glory box is basically a big fancy chest that young women would/do (not sure if some places still do this) put items and goods in to help prepare the dowry and then transport it to the new home.

The fact that Hobbits apparently do dowries considering how they handle gift-giving is a little confusing to me. Bungo Baggins did make Bag End for his new wife, though, so maybe both sides do an equivalent to a dowry?

But even setting aside the fact that it was a keepsake and something he clearly cherished, dude was probably still grieving his parents and here comes this pack of random ass strangers just scraping stuff on it like it's that metal thing outside of some old houses I've seen around here. I forget the word for them. Those little metal plates screwed near to the front door on the pavement so that people can scrape off mud and in some cases dogshit/horseshit before entering someone's home.

Honestly I like those plates more than the welcome mats which are often either too thin to be of real use or too difficult to clean. The plate solves both issues.

Bilbo was essentially a teenager when everyone survived a horrible winter with food shortages and vicious attacks by wolves who either overhunted or ran out of prey in their original territory. And then he was a young adult when his parents died. Hobbits come of age at 33 and live to about 90-100. 110 is old af to them while the oldest known hobbit (before Bilbo) being at 130 as incredible. Give it up for Gerontius Took, everyone: Bilbo's maternal grampa!

Also considering Lobella Sacksville-Baggins is Bilbo's immediate cousin through his father's siblings, we have a massive reason for why Lobella being a salty ass isn't just a personality trait but more about family drama. Your bachelor cousin head of the family who has apparently zero interest in marrying or having kids of his own happily visits all his relatives and makes grand gifts to people as part of the local custom regarding birthday parties (Hobbits give gifts on their birthday rather than receiving them).

And then Bilbo adopts a distant cousin instead. 1st/2nd degree actually based on family but Bilbo's grandfather's brother's great-grandson doesn't roll off as easily, although Bilbo's maternal aunt's grandson does. Meanwhile Lobella is Bilbo's uncle's daughter-in-law making her son Lotho would've been his immediate successor by inheritance laws. Of course, Lobella is no saint and she was preemptively nasty and grabby with things not even hers but I'm gonna admit, if I cared about that I would definitely feel hurt.

[inslo]

Gender neutral bathrooms

I’ve been in gender netural/multi-gender bathrooms before and have been fine with it, but yesterday was different.  A friend and I went to a contemporary dance performance at a business I’ve been going to for the last oh maybe 8 years or so.  The place is normally a two-classroom dance studio, but one of the classrooms does convert to auditorium seating (possibly up to around 60-seats) with performance space.  Apparently the entire business only has one pair of bathrooms.  They are very small bathrooms. Like really small…the mens has a single open-air urinal and a stall, the womens room has two stalls.  Square footage wise each bathroom is probably the size of my smaller spare bedroom which measures 12-feet by 9-feet.  Since my last visit to this business, they converted this pair of bathrooms to unisex.  Many of the performers are female and were running in-and-out of both bathrooms.  At one point there were two females and one male in the formerly mens restroom.  The girls were running in-and-out of both restrooms, I have no idea what was going on, it seemed like a party or something.  

I can tell you for fact that men and women have different bathroom habits.  You go into any mens-only restroom, it’s an individual experience, and it is dead silent with the exception of bodily noises and flushing/running water.  Any conversation in a men’s room is an absolute no-no, unless you’re perceived as weird or creepy.   On the other hand, though I don’t have any personal experience with being in ladies restrooms, but from what I gather, they often will go in pairs or as an entire-group, conversation encouraged.  

I used to have a co-worker that was known to follow people around just so he could talk at them.  (“at” them, meaning it wasn’t a conversation, just rambling.)  One of our machinists complained about this and at one point said, “Dude, give me a break, I’m old and need to concentrate to do my business in here.”  

I feel like I’m becoming this machinist.  If the open-air urinal would have been not open-air placed inside a stall, I would have been much more comfortable, but as-is, I stood outside the restroom for about fifteen minutes until the women left and there was only one male occupying the single stall in the formerly mens restroom.  

Bottom line, when it is done well, I’m okay with unisex bathrooms/family restrooms.  

By the way, similar but separate note, I just saw a video last week on what bathrooms were like on the Titanic.  Believe it or not, the Titanic was one of the first ships with plenty of bathrooms. The video stated that third-class passengers had to be shown how to use the “new fangled” gadgets in their bathrooms. Ships built just a couple years prior to the Titanic either had no bathroom facilities or only a handful of toilets for certain passengers/crew members.  

[scary-movies-on-netflix]

ROSEMARY’S BABY (1968)

So, yes, this movie.  It’s one of the few “horror movies” that’s considered to transcend the genre.  I mostly agree.

Guy and Rosemary are a young married couple who move into a huge apartment in a building called the Bramford.  Rosemary meets a young woman named Terry, who’s living with the Castavets.  Then Terry jumps out a window to her death!  Guy and Rosemary eventually meet the Castavets, an eccentric old couple who are their neighbors.  Roman Castavet is a talkative and charming old man with many stories.  Minnie Castavet is nosy, in your face woman, a good New Yorker.  Guy is an actor, and he apparently bonds with the Castavets over shared interests, but Rosemary doesn’t especially care for them. 

Strange things start to occur!

Guy is passed over in a part for a play, but then the lead actor goes blind and Guy gets the part!

Minnie drops off some “chocolate mousse” as a surprise dessert.  Rosemary thinks it tastes weird and doesn’t want to eat it, but Guy is an asshole and tries to guilt her into eating it.  Rosemary becomes woozy and Guy puts her to bed.  She has visions of being on a boat, and then she is placed naked on a bed.  The Castavets and other people (including Guy!), all naked, surround and watch as Roman paints symbols on Rosemary.  She is sexually assaulted by a demonic figure (a scene recently and deftly recreated in “The First Omen” (2024).)  At one point Rosemary shouts, “This is no dream!  This is really happening!”  She wakes up the next morning with scratches on her body.  Guy explains that he had sex with her while she was asleep.  Eww.

Rosemary becomes pregnant!  At first she’s seeing Dr. Hill, who seems perfectly fine.  She’s due in June of the next year.  Guy insists on telling the Castavets of the news, and they insist that she start seeing Dr. Sapirstein, “one of the finest obstetricians in the country.”  Sapirstein puts Rosemary on a regimen of drinks, prepared by Minnie, and tells her not to seek out advice from anyone else.

Rosemary gets a haircut, a super-short little bob.  She looks like Twiggy, a popular model from those years.  Naturlich, Guy hates the haircut, because he apparently owns her body or something, but I think she looks great.

Over the first trimester, Rosemary suffers from pain and actually loses weight.  Sapirstein keeps telling her that it’ll be fine.  An old friend, Hutch, comes to visit.  He’s curious about a trinket the Castavets have given Rosemary, which contains something odiferous called “tannis root.”  Hutch later calls Rosemary to arrange a meetup.  Rosemary shows up, but Hutch isn’t there.  She calls his house, only to discover that he’s suddenly fallen into a coma!

Rosemary decides to throw a party, but she’s only inviting their younger friends: “You have to be under 60 to get in.”  Minnie learns about the party and tries to finagle her way into helping, but Rosemary puts her off.  The night of the party, all of the women are highly concerned about Rosemary’s health and insist that she see another doctor.  “I won’t have an abortion!” Rosemary cries.  After the party Guy attacks Rosemary’s friends, saying, “They’re a bunch of not-very-bright bitches who ought to mind their own goddamn business!”  People, I’m starting to not like Guy.  As they’re continuing to argue (Guy doesn’t want to her to see another doctor, because he’s obviously part of the plot to isolate her) all of Rosemary’s pain goes away and she feels the fetus kicking. 

Things seem to proceed well after that.  Rosemary’s due date is in three weeks, but she gets news that Hutch, her old friend, has died!  She goes to the funeral, where one of his family members gives her a book, a final present from Hutch.  It’s called “All of Them Witches.”  Rosemary reads about witches, including one “Adrian Mercato,” who previously lived in their building!  Hutch left a clue that there’s an anagram in the book.  Rosemary uses a “Scrabble” set to figure out that Mercato’s son, Steven Mercato, is actually Roman Castavet!  Rosemary is now convinced that the Castavets, who must be witches, are after her!  Some stuff happens.  The Castavets go on a trip, and, in a famous scene, Rosemary wanders across a busy street and dumps her tannis root trinket in a sewer grate.  She goes to visit Dr. Sapirstein, and his secretary mentions how he uses an aftershave that also smells like tannis root, because he is a witch!

Rosemary uses an old timey phone booth to call Dr. Hill.  A man stands ominously outside as she pleads for the doctor to see her, and Hill says she can come over to his office.  She arrives and rants to him about witches.  Dr. Hill says that he’s going to check Rosemary into Mount Sinai for care, but instead he calls Guy and Dr. Sapirstein!  They take her back to their building, but Rosemary gets away from them and locks herself into the apartment.  She’s trying to call a friend, but numerous people enter through a secret door and subdue Rosemary!  She goes into labor!

When Rosemary comes to Guy and Dr. Sapirstein tell her that the baby died during birth.  “It was in the wrong position.”  Various people watch over her.  Guy ties to tell her that everything is “gonna be roses.”   Rosemary hears a baby crying on the other side of her wall!  People are giving her pills and collecting her breast milk!  Rosemary stops taking the pills and finds the secret door from her apartment into the Castavet’s.  She goes inside and there are a bunch of people, including the Castavets, and a big black cradle!  Rosemary looks at the baby inside and is horrified: “What have you done to it!  What have you done to its eyes?”  Roman says, “He has his father’s eyes.”  Roman explains that Satan “came up from hell and begat a son of a mortal woman.”  Everyone starts to hail Satan.  Roman suggests to Rosemary that she “be a real mother to Adrian,” the baby.  Rosemary cries.  She spits in Guy’s face.

Finally, someone is violently rocking the cradle with Adrian.  Rosemary goes over to it and begins to gently rock the cradle.  She looks at Adrian, but not with hate or disgust, maybe the first inkling of motherly affection.

So much has been written about this movie, essays and books, that I don’t have much to add, and certainly nothing new or original.  This is a sensitive portrayal of a victim.  Rosemary is being isolated, manipulated, and gaslit.  At the end, her own good nature is further manipulated to care for the spawn of Satan.  (It’s incredibly unsettling that the famous director, who showed such sympathy for a victim, turned out to be a victimizer himself.)  I’m also fascinated by the fact that the movie, actually, doesn’t always take itself too seriously.  The performance of Rosemary (Mia Farrow) verges at times into camp, without quite crossing the line, and we have high camp at the end when the witches chant, “HAIL SATAN THE YEAR IS ONE AND GOD IS DONE!”  Everything just works.  This is sublime.

[ourpieceoutoftime-blog]

DATING SERVICE:

TAGGED BY: @furandlatin

TAGGING: @alotofweirdthinking, @araethi, @elenaloveablekotsala, @storiesintheuniverse, and @younger-winchester-and-co

[aion-rsa]

The True Story Behind James Cameron’s Titanic

https://ift.tt/3shvKln

James Cameron’s 1997 blockbusting tearjerker, Titanic, puts an epic love story in the middle of the greatest maritime disaster in the history of the North Atlantic. On April 15, 1912, midway through its maiden voyage from Southampton, England, to New York City, the RMS Titanic struck an iceberg. Because of a severe shortage of lifeboats, 1,517 people died. In the weeks which followed, the luxury liner was said to have been billed as “unsinkable,” but that claim had never been made until after the nautical disaster.

This and other myths have lived on, thanks particularly to Cameron’s romantic (and often fanciful) movie. And yet, not all truths have been lost at sea.

Jack and Rose

Jack Dawson, played by Leonardo DiCaprio, and Rose DeWitt Bukater, played by Kate Winslet as a young woman and Gloria Stuart when elderly, are a myth. They are fictional characters. Jack wasn’t slipped $20 for rescuing Rose, and never taught her how to spit off the side of a ship like a man. But there was a member of the Titanic crew named Joseph Dawson. Born in Dublin, Joseph Dawson worked as a coal trimmer, evening out piles of coal which were shoveled into the ship’s furnaces.

Rose DeWitt-Bukater is the first film character portrayed by two actors who were both nominated for an Academy Award. Winslet was nominated as Best Actress, and Stuart was nominated as Best Supporting Actress. Rose is modeled on Beatrice Wood, who did not travel on the Titanic. Born in San Francisco to wealthy parents, her coming out party was cancelled the same year the Titanic sank.

Beatrice joined the French National Repertory Theatre under the stage name Mademoiselle Patricia, playing more than 60 roles before she was noticed by artist Marcel Duchamp. She was well known by artists during the Dada period, and lived long enough to be invited by James Cameron to the opening of Titanic.

Captain Edward John Smith

Before skippering the Titanic, Capt. Edward John Smith (Bernard Hill) spent 40 years at sea without major incidents. Smith had been working on boats since he was a teenager. He earned a master’s certificate, which is required to serve as captain, in 1875. He became a junior officer with the White Star Line in 1880. He commanded his first ship in 1887. Like many veteran captains, he occasionally ran ships aground, and was captain of the Olympic when it collided with the British cruiser Hawke off the Isle of Wight in 1911, a year before he helmed the Titanic.

The Titanic received iceberg warnings several days into its maiden voyage. Smith adjusted the course but reportedly did not decrease speed. He was away from the bridge when the ship struck an iceberg. The first damage report, from Fourth Officer Joseph G. Boxhall (Simon Crane), found no damage. But a closer inspection from the Titanic’s designer Thomas Andrews (Victor Garber), found five of the ship’s 16 watertight compartments were flooded. The Titanic could have stayed afloat with up to four flooded compartments. At about midnight, Andrews reported the ship would founder within 60 to 90 minutes. Smith gave orders to uncover the lifeboats and alert the passengers at 12:05 a.m.

Because of some of the reported incidents, some historians wonder whether Smith was in a state of shock at the news. Crewmen didn’t lower the lifeboats until 12:45 a.m., and only because Second Officer Charles Lightoller (Jonny Phillips) reminded the captain to give the order.

Smith’s final moments are unknown. Early newspaper reports alleged he shot himself with a pistol. Several witnesses claimed to have seen him swim to a nearby lifeboat with an infant in his arms before swimming back to the Titanic. Some witnesses said he was swept off deck by a wave, others believed he made it to an overturned lifeboat. Smith’s body was never found.

Joseph Bruce Ismay

J. Bruce Ismay (Jonathan Hyde) was born Dec. 12, 1862, near Liverpool, England. His father was the founder of the White Star Line. Educated at Harrow and tutored in France, he travelled the world before becoming the New York company agent for White Star Line. He became head of Ismay, Imrie & Company after his father’s death in 1899, oversaw its acquisition by J.P. Morgan’s International Mercantile Marine Company in 1902, and was named president of IMM in 1904.

In 1907, Ismay met with Lord Pirrie of the Belfast shipbuilding company Harland and Wolff to discuss building a fast luxury liner with huge steerage capacity which would rival the Cunard Line’s RMS Lusitania and RMS Mauretania. Three ships were built, the RMS Olympic, RMS Britannic, and the pride of the fleet, the RMS Titanic. The ship was built by British White Star Lines at a cost of $10 million. It weighed 46,000 tons and was 882.5 feet long.

History puts culpability for the Titanic disaster on Ismay. He reportedly demanded the captain increase speed in spite of the iceberg warnings, but during the U.S. Senate’s Inquiry into the disaster, he testified the ship was never going at full speed and didn’t even have all of the boilers on. Ismay was the company officer who gave the order to cut the number of lifeboats onboard from 48 to the Board of Trade standard minimum of 16, plus 4 collapsible Engelhardt boats. But Ismay also helped crewmen get the lifeboats ready and convinced passengers to board the lifeboats before danger was visibly apparent. Ismay boarded Engelhardt C, the last lifeboat launched, only 20 minutes before the Titanic crashed beneath the waves.

While Ismay was attacked in the press and branded a coward for escaping while so many working-class women and children died, testimony from surviving officers exonerated his actions as in the best interest of the passengers. Ismay retired from IMM and the White Star Line in 1913.

Chief Engineer Officer Joseph Bell

Joseph Bell (Terry Forrestal) was from Farlam, Cumbria, and a family who had been farmers for generations.  Born in March 1861, Joseph began his seafaring career as an apprentice engine fitter at Robert Stephensons and Co. in Newcastle. Bell joined the White Star line in 1885, serving on vessels working the waters of New Zealand and New York.

Joseph, was promoted to Chief Engineer on the Coptic in 1891 and married Maud Bates in 1893. By 1911, he was the Chief Engineer on White Star Line’s Olympic before being transferred to the Titanic. His staff consisted of 24 engineers, six electrical engineers, two boilermakers, a plumber, and a clerk. None survived the sinking.

The Unsinkable Molly Brown

Legend has it, Margaret Tobin Brown (Kathy Bates) was called “The Unsinkable Molly Brown” because she helped evacuate the ship, took up one of the oars in the lifeboat, and threatened to throw Quartermaster Robert Hichens (Paul Brightwell) overboard if he didn’t go back to the boat to save more people. The myth says the nickname was plucked from the first words she said upon landing safely in New York: “Typical Brown luck. I’m unsinkable!” But Brown actually got the tag as an insult from Denver gossip columnist Polly Pry as revenge for the story of a local hero being printed in another magazine first.

Molly Tobin was born in Hannibal, Missouri in 1867. Her Irish family was part of a wave of immigrants who came to America after the country’s industrialization. Margaret went to school until age 13 when she began working in a factory. She left in search of better work conditions. She met J.J. Brown, a mining engineer, and they were married on Sept. 1, 1886. While most of their neighbors in the Leadville, Missouri community lived in devastating poverty because of the 1893 Silver Crash, J.J. discovered gold in Ibex Mining’s Little Johnny Mine, where he was made a primary shareholder. The couple became nearly instantaneous millionaires.

Moving to Denver where the Silver Crash also took a heavy economic toll, Margaret became part of the Progressive movement, fighting for public baths, public parks, and other city improvements. The Browns separated in 1909 but never divorced. Margaret and her daughter Helen were on an extended vacation with Col. John Jacob “Jack” Astor IV and Madeleine Astor in 1912 when they heard news about a family member’s health issue at home and booked passage on the first available ship, the Titanic.

After the crash, Margaret was lowered in lifeboat number six, which was equipped to hold 65 passengers, but set off with 21 women, two men, and a twelve-year-old boy onboard. Margaret manned an oar. Her knowledge of foreign languages helped her bring passengers aboard the Carpathia, the first ship to answer the distress call. Margaret distributed blankets and supplies, and got the first-class passengers to donate money to help less fortunate passengers.

Brown continued her Progressive program, helping miners striking against the Colorado Fuel and Iron Company. Twenty people were killed when a battle broke out between the miners and private guards hired by the company in one of the most violent labor conflicts in American history. Once the aftermath and PR battles died down, Margaret moved into her summer home in Newport, Rhode Island where she became involved with Alva Vanderbilt Belmont, the President of the National Women’s Suffrage Association.

The two women spearheaded the National Women’s Trade Union League, which advocated for a minimum wage, an eight-hour workday, and did not distinguish between women of the upper classes and working women.

Margaret wrote newspaper articles, gave public speeches, and was drawn to the radical side of the party, which pushed for a national suffrage amendment. In July 1914, Brown and Belmont organized the Conference of Great Women, which led to Margaret’s bid for a U.S. Senator seat representing Colorado. She shifted her focus when World War I broke out, traveling to France to work for the American Committee for Devastated France.

After WWI, Molly indulged her lifelong passion for the stage, performing in plays in Paris and New York. The 1960 Broadway musical The Unsinkable Molly Brown was based on her life, Debbie Reynolds played her in the 1964 film adaptation.  Brown died in her sleep on Oct. 26, 1932, at the Barbizon Hotel in New York City.

Madeleine Astor and Jacob Astor IV

Madeleine Astor (Charlotte Chatton) was five months pregnant when she boarded the Titanic in Cherbourg, France with her husband Col. John Jacob “Jack” Astor IV (Eric Braeden); her husband’s valet, and her maid and nurse. Madeleine was the daughter of William Hurlbut Force, a shipping magnate, and her family was part of Brooklyn high society. The Astors were ending their extended honeymoon which began with a trip from New York on Titanic‘s sister ship, the Olympic.

When the Titanic was sinking, Astor’s husband helped her and her maid into lifeboat four but was denied entry himself by Second Officer Lightoller, who said the boats were for women and children only. Col. Astor perished with the ship. Madeleine Astor gave birth on Aug. 14, 1912. Her late husband’s will was conditional, and when Madeleine married her childhood friend, the banker William Karl Dick, four years after the Titanic tragedy, she lost her stipend from his trust fund.

Isidor and Ida Straus

Here’s a real heartbreaker greater than even Kate and Leo. Remember the image of a couple holding each other and crying as water seeps into their cabin? They were based on the tragically real figures of Isidor and Ida Straus, two of the wealthiest people on the Titanic.

Born into a Jewish family in Otterberg in 1845, back when that village was part of the Kingdom of Bavaria and Germany did not yet exist, Isidor immigrated as a child with his family to the United States. Growing up in Georgia when the Civil War broke out, he even considered joining the Confederacy before instead becoming a blockade runner for the South (think Rhett Butler). After the war, he moved to New York City where he met Ida, a fellow immigrant from the Germanic states.

In New York, Isidor worked at L. Straus and Sons, which quickly became the glass and china department at Macy’s. Yes, that Macy’s. The original one. By 1888, Isidor and his brother became partners in the first major American department store. By 1896 they owned it. Around this time, Isidor even served a single term as a Congressman in the U.S. House of Representatives.

When the Titanic hit an iceberg in 1912, Isidor and Ida were returning home after a holiday in France. As a first class passenger woman from one of the finest cabins on the ship, Ida was almost immediately offered space on a lifeboat. Isidor escorted her to it, but when it came time to get on, she refused. She wouldn’t leave her husband. Isidor was then also offered a spot on the lifeboat beside her, but he also refused, saying he would “not go before other men.”

So both of them declined the lifeboat space and instead gave it to Ida’s maid. One witness said she heard Ida say, “We have been living together for many years. Where you go, I go.” They walked off back toward the neck, never to be seen again.

And the Band Played On

The crew of the RMS Titanic took the adage “women and children first” very seriously. The Titanic‘s eight-member band, led by violinist Wallace Hartley (Jonathan Evans-Jones), never even jockeyed for position. When the band heard the ship was going down, they set up in the first-class lounge and played to keep passengers calm. As the water rose, the band moved to the forward half of the boat deck. Hartley worked for the Cunard ship line before taking the gig on the Titanic. The other band members were violinists George Alexandre Krins and John Law Hume, violist and bassist John Frederick Preston Clarke, cellists John Wesley Woodward, and Roger Marie Bricoux, and pianists Percy Cornelius Taylor and Theodore Ronald Brailey.

According to some passengers, the final song played was “Nearer, My God, to Thee,” a hymn written in 1861 by the Rev. John Dykes. Versions of this song play in the films Titanic (1953), A Night to Remember (1958) and Cameron’s Titanic. This was discounted by Colonel Archibald Gracie, an amateur historian who survived the disaster.

Read more

Movies

Saving Private Ryan: The Real History That Inspired the WW2 Movie

By David Crow

Movies

How Saving Private Ryan’s Best Picture Loss Changed the Oscars Forever

By David Crow

“I assuredly should have noticed it and regarded it as a tactless warning of immediate death to us all, and one likely to create panic,” he is quoted as saying in Steven Turner’s book, The Band That Played On: The Extraordinary Story of the Eight Musicians Who Went Down with the Titanic. He recalled that the band played cheerful songs to keep spirits up. Other survivors also reported hearing songs like “Alexander’s Ragtime Band” and “In the Shadows.”

“Nearer, My God, to Thee” was sung by passengers who survived the 1906 wreck of the SS Valencia and had been played during the impending doom on the decks of the Titanic, but those passengers who heard the song had disembarked earlier than the crew.  Wireless operator Harold Bride told The New York Times he heard the song “Autumn” before the ship sank.

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The post The True Story Behind James Cameron’s Titanic appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3asID5P

[yeah-all-of-it]

I wrote a fic the other day (my first!) that included a brief appearance by an original character named Rhonda, who is Ian and Mickey’s neighbor across the hall. Decided to write a bit of a prequel, exploring how they came to be friends with her. It’s 2 parts because it’s 4.7k and I don’t have an Ao3 account. Link for part 2 is here and at the bottom. Hope you enjoy!

Spill Your Guts: Part I

“Mickey, shut the fuck up! We’ve only lived here for like four days!” Ian whispers, dragging his slightly inebriated husband down the hall toward their apartment door. “We don’t want everyone to hate us already!”

“No, you don’t want everyone to hate us. I don’t give a fuck.” Mickey replies.

“Mickey.”

Ian’s trying to convey irritation, but the truth is, he’s so giddy about the evening’s surprise anniversary party, he’s struggling to come off as anything other than completely fond of his loud-ass, thoughtful husband. He’s a little drunk himself which isn’t helping matters.

“What? The only person I want to like me is you, Gallagher,” Mickey says, trying to be only slightly quieter.

“And I do like you, very much. But it would be nice to make a couple friends here too. Waking people up at 2 am probably isn’t the best way to do that,” Ian explains.

Mickey stops walking and gently pushes Ian up against the wall, holding him in place with a hand on his chest. Mickey says slyly, “Oh, you like me, huh? How much? D’you like me… this much?” Mickey plants a soft kiss on Ian’s neck.

“Umm, yeah, I like you that much,” Ian responds.

“Okay. What about… this much?” Mickey steps closer, placing his hand on the side of Ian’s face and softly kissing his lips, just barely slipping his tongue in.

“Mmm, yeah,” Ian replies once Mickey pulls away. “I definitely like you that much.”

Mickey steps right up to Ian, pressing his body into the wall with his own. Their faces are so close, they can feel each other’s breath hitching. He slowly slides a hand down the front of Ian’s jeans.

“You like me this mu-,” he doesn’t even have the words out before Ian is devouring him. Bodies pressed together, hands gripping each other’s hair, tongues tangled together.

Things are so intense that they didn’t realize that they have somehow moved and are now up against their across the hall neighbor’s door.

The next thing they know, they are both plummeting toward the ground. It takes them a moment to realize that their neighbor, apparently hearing strange noises coming from her door, had opened the door they were leaning against.

Ian is flat on his back on the floor and Mickey is directly on top of him. Their arms are still wrapped around each other and it’s blatantly obvious what they’ve been up to.

“Do you know what time it is? I thought someone was trying to rob me! Scared the life outta me!” a slender lady, likely in her late 60s who had clearly been in bed based on her attire, yells at them.

The two men scramble to their feet, Ian panicking when he realizes that at some point Mickey had managed to undo his belt and his zipper. His plaid boxers were on full display as well as an obvious display of what’s underneath them.

“We’re… so, so sorry, ma’am,” Ian says sheepishly as he pulls his pants closed. “It won’t happen again.”

Ian grabs Mickey by the jacket and yanks him out the door and across the hall. He pulls out his keys and unlocks the door as quickly as he can, the neighbor eyeing them suspiciously the whole time. Once she’s presumably satisfied that they do actually live there and aren’t burglars, she closes the door to her own apartment.

They stumble through the doorway, slamming the door behind them and Mickey bursts into laughter.

“Holy shit, that’s one way to make friends, Gallagher! Wonder how long it’s been since that woman’s seen a dick?” Mickey laughs, as Ian’s face turns the same color as his hair.

———

It’s been almost a week since Ian inadvertently flashed their new neighbor and so far, they’ve managed to avoid running into her in the hallway.

Saturday morning, Mickey is sleeping in and Ian goes for an early run. He sneaks out the door, hoping the lady across the hall is still in bed, and walks quickly down the hall to the elevator. He manages to evade her again but when he returns, she opens her door before he’s able to get his key in the lock.

“Well, hello there,” she says cheerily. “Long time no see, neighbor!”

“Um, hi there,” Ian nervously replies.

“So, the name’s Rhonda. I figure we should be on a first name basis, you know, since I’ve seen your penis and all.”

Ian blushes and chuckles uncomfortably, but for some reason, finds himself feeling a little less embarrassed. He likes this woman already and they’ve barely spoken. She seems like a pretty no-nonsense, calls a spade a spade type of person.

“Oh, uh, I’m Ian. Ian Gallagher.”

“Well, Ian Gallagher, I was about to head out to the pool to get a little sun. Care to join me?” Rhonda inquires.

Ian looks down at his watch and figures Mickey will be asleep for at least another hour. And he does want to make friends.

“Umm, sure. That sounds nice,” he ultimately decides.

“Well, let’s get goin’ then!” she exclaims, linking her arm with Ian’s as they take off down the hall.

———

Once they reach the pool, they find two lounge chairs. Ian drags a patio umbrella over by his.

“Ginger,” he points to his hair. “I fry in the sun, even in the morning.”

Rhonda nods understandably as they kick back in their chairs.

“So,” she begins. “What’s your story, Ian Gallagher?”

“Umm, my story?” he answers, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He’s just met this woman and his “story” is… a lot. They’d be here all day if he told the whole thing. He decides to stick to the basics.

“Well, I’m from the Southside. Born and raised. Have a huge family, five brothers and sisters. Got married last year and moved here with my husband a couple weeks ago.” He decides that’s enough of an introduction for now.

“That’s all? That’s your story? I imagine it’s way juicier than that, but I get it. You don’t know me. I’m sure we’ll get to the good stuff eventually,” she winks after she says it.

This Rhonda, there’s just something so warm and vibrant about her. She has long wavy hair, white with a little gray mixed in. She has on a bohemian style dress and some turquoise jewelry. Ian imagines she’s had quite a life, well traveled and all that. Probably been outside of Chicago more times than he’s been to the Alibi. Her laugh is melodious, and her voice is cheerful and friendly. She’s one of those people you instantly like, that makes you want to open up and share your deepest secrets with.

“So that man that you were ravaging in the hall the other night. Your husband?” Rhonda asks.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s Mickey,” he replies. “Sorry again, about the uh, disturbance that night. We had just come from our first anniversary party and were, um, celebrating. Mickey planned the whole thing as a surprise for me.”

“A surprise anniversary party? Well your Mickey sounds like an absolute gem.”

“Yeah, he really is.” Ian can’t hide his sweet smile and look of adoration in his eyes. It makes him so happy when others notice the goodness in Mickey.

“So, how’d you two boys meet?” Rhonda asks, like she’s waiting for Ian to give her the real dish.

“Uh, well, we’ve known each other since we were kids. Grew up around the block from each other. I didn’t even know he was gay too until we hooked up as teenagers. The rest is sort of complicated, but that’s the gist of it”, Ian replies, and hopes that satisfies her curiosity. He’d love to tell her more but the whole unvarnished truth is a lot to unload on someone you’ve just met.

“Another Cliff’s Notes version, I see, but I’ll accept it for now,” she laughs.

Ian glances down at his watch and notices the time. Mickey is surely awake by now.

“Listen, this has been really great but I need to get back upstairs. Mickey is probably awake and we always make a big breakfast together on Saturday mornings. He’ll be pissed if I’m not there to flip the banana pancakes.”

“Oh I understand! This has been lovely and we should certainly do it again soon, Ian Gallagher!” she says with that cheery voice. Makes it hard to say no.

“Absolutely, Ms. Rhonda. That sounds great.” Ian rises from his chair and heads back inside, offering her a friendly smile that she returns.

———

“Where the fuck you been?” Mickey inquires as Ian walks through the door, not heated, just a question.

“Good morning to you too,” Ian replies teasingly. “I went for a run, then I was sunning by the pool with Rhonda.”

“Rhonda? Who the fuck is Rhonda?” Mickey asks, confused.

“Uh, the lady that lives across the hall from us.”

“The lady that liv- the one that caught us the other night? The one that saw you with your cock out?” Mickey is growing slightly agitated.

“Yeah, that’s her.”

“What’s she want with you? She tryin’ to pull some Mrs. Robinson shit on you? Saw somethin’ she liked?”

“Relax, Mickey. She’s just a friendly older lady. She didn’t do anything, we just talked for a bit. She’s nice,” Ian tries to assuage the situation. “Plus, you are aware I’m not attracted to women, right? And she’s old enough to be my grandma. Don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“Whatever, man. Come in here and flip some fuckin’ pancakes.”

———

The next Saturday morning, Ian decides to skip his run and knock on Rhonda’s door to see if she wants to take a walk with him. He really enjoyed their chat last week; it felt good to talk to someone new, someone who had no preconceived notions about him or his life. He wanted to continue that.

He knocks on the door and Rhonda answers, dressed in lilac colored athletic wear, long hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was in remarkable shape for her 65+ years.

“Well hello, handsome. I was just getting ready to go do some yoga on the roof. Would you like to come?”

“Uh, sure,” he replies. “I was actually going to see if you wanted to come on a walk but yoga sounds nice. I’ve been wanting to try it but didn’t wanna go alone, and yoga’s not really Mickey’s thing so…” he drifts off.

“I have an extra mat, let me grab it and we’ll head upstairs!” Rhonda says cheerfully.

Once they’re all set up, Rhonda begins, ”I like to start my mornings with something called sun salutation. Do you know what that is?”

“No. I don’t really know anything about yoga, just that it’s supposed to be good for you. Always wanted to try it, especially since moving here. Show me?” Ian requests.

She walks him through step by step, reaching up to the sky and back down. They go through some basic flows, downward dog, warrior, tree pose, cat-cow. She makes sure he concentrates on his breathing.

“All done!” Rhonda chirps and they sit up from their final shavasana position.

Ian feels amazing. Relaxed and limber and strong. He’s surprised how difficult some of the poses are, especially because he’s always considered himself to be in pretty good shape. Yoga is definitely something he wants to continue. Rhonda really knows her stuff, too. Maybe he could convince Mickey to do yoga on the roof so he wouldn’t have to go to an actual class with people.

“Wow, Ms. Rhonda, that was incredible. I see why people love yoga. I feel amazing.”

“We can make this a regular thing, if you like,” she offers.

“Sure, I’d love that. Maybe I could bring Mickey sometime?” he asks.

“Sure thing, handsome!” She smiles at him.

“So, your Mickey. Tell me about him. What made you fall in love with him?” Rhonda asks casually, like she’s just making conversation but he knows she’s trying to dive deeper, get to know him better. He can’t figure out why she’s taken such an interest in him but she’s just so sincere. He can’t help but feel a connection with her.

“Well, Mickey is… complicated. He’s rough and tender. He’s vulgar and beautiful. He’s tough but so kind. He’s… everything.” Ian pauses and Rhonda doesn’t say anything, indicating she wants him to continue.

“He had a rough upbringing. I did too, actually, but not nearly as rough as his. I had druggy, absentee parents and was mostly raised by my older sister Fiona. Struggled to pay bills. Had to steal to survive sometimes. But Mickey…” Ian drifts off, not sure how much deeper he should go. There’s just something about this kind, welcoming woman in front of him that makes him want to open up. He wants to be careful though, as Mickey’s story isn’t entirely for him to tell. He wants to be respectful of that.

“Mickey was raised mostly by his dad who was in and out of prison. His dad was homophobic and violent and was awful to Mickey. Obviously he didn’t support us being together. Mickey had to hide who he truly was for so long which made it tough on our relationship. But we survived all that and Mickey now is just… he has rough edges. Anyone that is around him can see that. He’s Southside through and through. But when you really get to know him… he’s the best person I know. I guess that’s why I love him. Because he’s just… good. And he’s always had my back no matter what. He’s damn good in bed too, so there’s that,” he laughs.

“Oh trust me, I can tell you boys have no trouble in that department!” she cackles and Ian blushes.

Her tone turns a little more serious after that. “So when you say his father was homophobic and Mickey couldn’t be who he really was…” she leaves it open ended for Ian to fill in the blanks.

He sighs, “Yeah, um. His dad had threatened to kill him. And me. Actually tried, after our wedding. He caught us together once, years ago, naked in the living room. It was… really bad. Traumatizing but I won’t go into details. Mickey spent his whole life hiding deep in the closet because of his dad. My family always supported me and loved me no matter what, but Mickey didn’t have that. We had to hide our relationship for years which was tough. I just wanted to be a normal couple, be able to hold his hand in public, shit like that. But he was scared. Wanted to make his dad proud. He finally came out… I kinda pushed him which wasn’t my proudest moment. But he came out and his dad beat us up. It was awful, but he was out so it was kinda freeing too, I guess? I don’t know. Then there was my diagnosis in the midst of all this. I don’t really tell a lot of people about it but I’m bipolar. Did some crazy shit when I was in a bad manic state several years ago. Then spent some weeks in bed, couldn’t even get up. Mickey never left my side. I’m really not sure where I would have ended up if it wasn’t for him. He saved my life. I’m stable now, on meds that are working well for me. Plus Mickey is really good at picking up on shit, like if he thinks I’m starting to get depressed or something. He’ll say something or do something to help me through it, but like, subtle.” It’s all coming out like word vomit. But it feels so therapeutic at the same time, like just saying these words out loud lightens the weight of them.

“I don’t know. We broke up a few times over the years, forced apart by circumstances out of our control. Oh, and we were in prison together for awhile. We’ve been through some shit. We’d be here all day if I told you even half of it. But despite all that we found our way back to each other and never have to let go again.”

“How long have you two been together?” she asks.

“On and off for ten years. Since we were just dumb teenagers, banging secretly in the walk-in cooler at work,” Ian answers.

“Well that’s one hell of a story, Ian. I’m sorry things were bad for so long but I’m so happy you are in a good place now. Your Mickey sounds just wonderful though and I can’t wait to get to know him better. Maybe we could do dinner one night! I’m a pretty fantastic cook.”

“That actually sounds really great, thank you. I’ll check our schedule,” Ian replies.

“Anytime next week works so just let me know.”

They get up and begin to roll up their mats.

“You know, I just realized,” Ian states. “I don’t really know anything about you. I’ve just been droning on about myself. What’s your story?”

“Oh, Ian. I promise, we can discuss my wild life at dinner,” she laughs.

“Sounds perfect,” Ian smiles.

———

“We gotta do what?” Mickey complains.

“We are going over to Rhonda’s for dinner this Friday. It’ll be fun. She’s wonderful. You’re gonna love her. She’s really excited to get to know you better.”

“Better? You’ve already fuckin’ told her a bunch’a shit about me, haven’t you?” Mickey grumbles.

“Listen, Mick. Yes, I’ve given her the gist of our lives and our relationship, nothing too in depth. I didn’t go into great detail about your history because I didn’t think it was my place,” Ian explains. “Just told her how rough we had it in the past. She’s just so kind, and she really listens, no judgment.”

Mickey hesitates. “Alright, fine. I’ll go. But if this woman isn’t as amazing as you say she is I’m leaving. Unless the food is really good or there’s free booze. Then I’ll stay.”

Ian just rolls his eyes and gives him a hug, whispering a quiet “thank you” in his ear.

———

Friday is here before Ian knows it. He’s chatted more with Rhonda this week, seeing her for a few minutes in the laundry room, waiting for his clothes to dry. Then again out by the pool when he went to swim some laps. They were both looking forward to dinner.

“Mick, you about ready? It’s almost 7,” Ian yells back to the bedroom from the living room.

Mickey walks out into the living room wearing his black skinny jeans with the ripped knees and a gray long sleeved waffle knit shirt with his black boots.

“Wow, Mickey, you look really nice.” Ian walks up and kisses him on the forehead. “You smell great too, what is that?”

“Some cologne I found at some fuckin’ hipster shop the other day. Thought it smelled nice. Wanted to make a good impression on your new best friend,” Mickey states, with a slight hint of feigned attitude.

“You’re my best friend, Mick. Rhonda’s just a nice lady that I enjoy talking to and hanging out with. She’s definitely a friend though, the only friend I’ve made here and I really like her company.”

“If you insist. Let’s go, I’m fuckin’ starving.”

PART 2

[ephemeral-winter]

the year in books, 2021

Conversations with Friends by Sally Rooney (reread)

i am problematic and i am obsessed with ms rooney and i’m not apologizing for it

The Mitfords: Letters Between Six Sisters, ed. Charlotte Mosley

can you believe i am [redacted] years into my mitford obsession and it took me until this year to read their letters? your honor, i love them

How to Speak Brit by Christopher J. Moore

my uncle bought me this after i got into grad school (in the uk) as a joke and i read it to be polite? why? 

Enter the Aardvark by Jessica Anthony (reread)

!!!!! once again i heartily recommend both reading this and following @entertheaardvark

A Fine Old Conflict by Jessica Mitford

this is decca’s underread and underappreciated second memoir, and it is mostly about her time in the communist party in the us in the 50s and 60s. what a life! 

The Book of Night Women by Marlon James

i’m not including 99% of what i read for school this year because who has that kind of time, but i’m making an exception for this because holy shit. all the content warnings apply (novel is about a slave revolt in jamaica c. 1790), but holy shit. 

The Letters of Vita Sackville-West to Virginia  Woolf, edited by Louise DeSalvo and Mitchell A. Leaska

yeah i cried what about it

Priestdaddy by Patricia Lockwood

fuck she’s so funny

No One is Talking About This by Patricia Lockwood

this one was less funny

Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters

i learned a lot of new slang! but i suspect i am not the target audience

Saturday by Ian McEwan

lmao so my creative writing teacher this past spring told me to read this because she thought my story draft needed a sex scene and this novel apparently contains a great example of one? 1) my draft did not need a sex scene 2) the scenes here were not good and 3) i can source and read good erotica on my own, thanks

Codex by Lev Grossman (reread)

he wrote this before the magicians and it’s about video games and medieval manuscripts and has lovely descriptions of the tedium of archival librarianship so

Transcription by Kate Atkinson

i completely missed the twist in this and was so confused for the last 50 pages… idk if you like spies this might be good

Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency by Douglas Adam’s (reread)

i read this about every 3 years and every time i forget what happens in it, which is nice for me i guess? 

Antiquities by Cynthia Ozick

read for my bookclub with my grandmother. meh. 

The Heir Affair by Heather Cocks and Jessica Morgan

well i AM a sucker for thinly-disguised retellings of the wills/kate saga what can i say

The Secret Life of Groceries by Benjamin Lorr

the best nonfiction i read this year

Whose Body by Dorothy L. Sayers

based on everything else about me i should have fell in love with peter wimsey years ago but i never got around to it and maybe i’m too jaded now but i just was not impressed? 

The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart (reread)

holds up imo! i watched the disney+ show and reread at the same time; book is better

The Magicians by Lev Grossman (reread)

i had a cold and wanted to stay in bed

Paris to the Moon by Adam Gopnik

oh wow another memoir of an american journalist in paris. tell me more about navigating french department stores for the first time, please, i find it so fascinating

Conversations with Friends by Sally Rooney (reread)

fuck did i really do this one TWICE in one year? i hate myself

Real Life by Brandon Taylor

brandon’s twitter is miles more interesting than this book but i guess i see why it got shortlisted for the booker. i guess. 

One Last Stop by Casey McQuinston

look it’s not my fault i needed something easy to pick up and put down while the kids i babysat this summer took their naps

Helena by Evelyn Waugh

i think i read this one in one sitting in the bath but other than that i could not tell you anything about it

Normal People by Sally Rooney (reread)

i’m clinically insane

The Past by Tessa Hadley

i actually liked this a lot! never read any hadley before but i might get into her now

Quartet by Jean Rhys

i think i prefer good morning midnight over this one

The Right to Sex by Amia Srinivasan

interesting stuff but i gotta ask: haha and then what? 

Beautiful World, Where Are You? by Sally Rooney

read this on the plane on my way to start grad school. i have no interest in rereading it

White Houses by Amy Bloom

FUCK this is so good. she captured the intimacy of eleanor and hicks so beautifully. goddamn

Matrix by Lauren Groff

i was supposed to love this especially since my mentor was the historical advisor and also i was present at the lecture that inspired it but uh…. twas not my ideal representation of a 12th cen nunnery

How to Be Both by Ali Smith

picked this up on my first day out of a stupid week of stupid isolation and whizzed through it! i am an ali smith stan now

Business as Usual by Jane Oliver and Ann Stafford

this reprint of a 1930s novel was charming! recommend

The Covent Garden Ladies by Hallie Rubenhold

very interesting history, but i prefer the tv show (harlots)

[insomniac-dot-ink]

We Deserve a Soft Landing, Love

Genre: wlw sci-fi

Words: 4.6k

Summary: An astronaut on the International Space Station gets a transmission from a girl on a dying ship.

They talk as the radiation increases.

Content Warning: death

2036

Astronauts really weren’t supposed to be alone. Not at the space station, it wasn’t made to run that way, three permanent residence were assigned at all times, and they were rarely alone.

But mistakes happen. A gash the size of her forearm down his side, perfectly round red droplets hanging in the air like ping-pong balls in suspended animation. A face as ashen as the grave and yelling. They never yelled.

Sarah Reyes was chosen for her composed personality, composed in theory, less so in practice. She watched her coworker burst open and heard NASA ringing in her ear: what do you even do with a dead body in space?

But he wasn’t gone yet.

They pressed a template they never had before: cрочный спуск, the Soyuz computer sprang to life, emergency.

NASA kept ringing in her ears. Some young women named Janet was talking to her now and she was talking back.

Rod wasn’t going to make the journey if he went back alone. His eyes were barely open and red blooming droplets still swam around the room like liquid party balloons, Sarah never liked the word helpless.

She looked to Nikolai and told him to ‘get the fuck down there,’ someone needed to take the CRV shuttle down with him. Nikolai’s heavy-lidded eyes studied her, he pursed his lips, and she said it once more in Russian and then again in English.

They secured Rod’s bandage a second time, his fever-warm face a distant star on the horizon. She grabbed onto his hand and told them ‘to get the fuck down there.’

They pressed cрочный спуск, the shuttle launched down with Kazakhstan readying down below, God, they had to be ready.

And she was alone.

Astronauts were not supposed to be alone.

The quiet was just as engulfing as the urgency had been before. Janet had apparently gone to take a break and they were on the sun side of the planet. Sarah started counting. It would take them 3.5 minutes to get back to earth. It would take three days for a shuttle to come back to the station. It would take three hours for the shuttle to be attached to the docking port.

It would take some undisclosed amount of time for them to sort out the politics down below. Astronaut’s don’t just burst open. And Sarah was alone.

She continued as normal, there was nothing else to do, she had at the very least three days to herself, and there was cleaning to do. Maintenance, communication. It turned into four days.

She was talking to a young man named Ted on the telecom now and she was sort of starting to hate young men named Ted. Politics were messier than space and no one was even set up to relieve her yet. NASA was in some sort of limbo and Russia wasn’t talking. Sarah was alone.

It was the sixth day when the shuttle finally launched, a crew of three, Sarah had already forgotten their names, but she would have months to memorize them anyway.

She had turned off the intercom for that day, but didn’t notice the static until later when it started echoing off the hallways like a ghost. Sarah didn’t believe in ghosts, though. No self-respecting scientist believed in ghosts.

They were on the planet side of the sun, dark, alone, dumping heat back into the square hallways through the vents.

Sarah heard the first hush of static in her sleep, strapped down and frowning deeply as she screwed her eyes shut. It felt like she was getting tinnitus. For a moment she refused to wake up, she had to keep to her schedule, or else what the fuck else was she going to have up there.

The static breathed again, and her thoughts broke off and on in starts. Finally, she sat up, after all, they don’t know what to do with dead bodies in space. She ripped her sleeping mask off and cocked her head to the side.

Ssshhhhhh

She squirmed out of her restraints and floated to the side of the room, “It’s probably just Yulia messing with the frequencies planet side,” She muttered to herself mostly just to hear the sound her own raw voice in the dark, “Just Yulia…”

She pulled herself up and out and floated over to the communication bay while passing the wide yawning emptiness of the station. It could technically suit ten people, the size of a five-person house, but apparently, earth was still arguing. Two more days.

Sssshhhhhhh

She sighed and followed the noise; she really wasn’t in the mood for any system malfunctions. She tapped on the screen of the newly installed video chat. It sprang to life with the headquarters of NASA asking who she would like to get a hold of today.

Sarah blinked. But no one had been hailing her.

Sssshhhhhh

She looked around and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. None of the devices in the room were lighting up or winking at her. None of them were making any sounds at all. She scratched the back of her hand and accepted the fact that the noise really wasn’t coming from the central communication room.

Sarah turned around in meaningless circles and then left a message to the NASA night crew that there was a possible technical issue on the ISS. Two days before any crew was set to land, Sarah groaned, and it was just her.

She took deep breaths and pushed herself off toward what she could only assume was the source.

Ssssshhhh

She cringed as she crossed the "unity" room into the Russian side of the station, empty as a ghost town and twice as unnerving. But Sarah didn’t believe in ghosts.

Ssssshh-he-sssshh–ll-ssh-o

“Ah!” She clutched at her heart as something, a voice something, echoed off the halls. She took a deep rasping breath and turned in every which direction.

Ssh, hello? It came again.

Sarah’s mouth hung open and she found herself outside of a room that had been used as an old communication hub. It was a relic from a time back when they had separate ones instead of a “bubble of trust” in the center of the station.

Sarah cocked her head to the side and stared. One of the old radios that was attached to the wall and ingrained in the system was making a soft but distinct buzz. It was grey and had a panel of buttons and a microphone attached to a round speaker. Most of the old pre-2025 devices had been removed or repurposed but this one was intact and felt like she was reaching backward in time itself.

She frowned at it and she knew she should go report this. Houston would want to know one of the 2000 models was acting up.

Shhh-h–ssss

Sarah reached forward and her finger hovered in midair over the panel and her eyes glued to the intercom. There was something, a voice-something, bubbling underneath the static.

And, of course, she did believe in aliens.

Sarah pressed down on a feedback button and wet her lips, she leaned down toward the speaker, “Is someone there?”

She held her breath and watched the blinking red light of the transmitter in the dark center of the room. It had been repurposed several years ago to be another storage room.

She blinked, waited a full minute, and suddenly felt a little silly-- she should really be sleeping right now. Or reporting it. She watched the flickering red light and counted.

60 seconds, 180 seconds, 3 minutes, Sarah was about to take her finger off the feedback button when something responded back with clear articulation.

“Oh, thank God,” Sarah’s mouth fell open. It was a woman. She quickly bent over to reply, but the voice kept going, “Can you hear me? Is someone there? I am Lotte De Vos of the Argus, Landing Mission One, ESA. Can you hear me?”

Sarah gasped, “Oh my god--”

Lotte kept speaking quickly, “We have been pushed out off route and…Can anyone hear me?”

“Yes!” Sarah returned as soon as she found her voice again, perhaps yelling into the speaker a little too loudly, “We thought, I, are you safe? We thought the Argus was lost, what’s your status?”

Sarah did the math in her head, it would take four to five minutes for radio waves to transmit between Earth’s orbit and the Argus. The Jupiter moon’s mission.

“I can’t see our location, but I think I am stranded near the atmosphere of Jupiter, repeat I can see the troposphere…I don’t know where I am.”

“Argus,” Sarah rushed to speak, hoping they could balance out their conversation, “I am Sarah Reyes of the International Space Station, NASA, I can hear you loud and clear. What’s your status?”

She waited. Counting, 60 seconds, 2 minutes, 3 minutes, God, she needed to tell someone about this. But she heard the sharp intake of breath on the other end.

“ISS?” Sarah exhaled as the woman responded, “Thank God, okay, this is Lotte De Vos, reporting again from the Argus. The…the life support system is sustaining itself it looks like but none of the ram’s are responding, I think we’re disconnected from the rockets.”

“Miss De Vos,” Sarah hunched over, “What is the status of the crew? How much oxygen do you have left? What…what happened?” She remembered reading about the Argus a week ago. About the radio silence on the other end of one of the most ambitious human-manned missions into their solar system.

One minute. Two minutes. Three. Four.

“I,” She heard the other astronaut falter, “I have the full amount of oxygen left that we carried with us for the return journey.” She paused and a hitch of static filled the air, “The crew is incapacitated.” The voice said flatly and without inflection, “We were hit with an unexpected projectile and pulled into Jupiter’s orbit, we didn’t calculate the full effect of the mass of the planet on our ship it seems,” She chuckled and it was one of the most surprising sounds Sarah had ever heard, “I guess we are still making scientific discoveries.”

“Do you have your satellite? Where is your telecom? We can--”

The delay continued to confuse their conversation, “--it’s acting like a black hole, we tried to fix the rockets to propel us back to the base on Io but there wasn’t enough power, everyone else,” The young women took a deep shaking breath, “They tried to get back to it without the ship. Some of our jets were still working for the suits.”

“Oh my God,” Sarah whispered.

“It didn’t work.”

Sarah waited, making sure Lotte was finished and the full four to five minutes had passed so Lotte could get Sarah’s message.

She heard another laugh on the other side, “We really need a better system than this. How about we say ‘over’ when we’re done talking?” Sarah’s shoulder’s tensed. The woman sounded so young. “Anyway, to answer your question, our telecom was damaged when the projectile thrust us off course, I just recently jury-rigged this device in order to be picked up on low frequencies.” Sarah nodded and Lotte took an audible breath, “Over.”

Sarah pressed her forehead up against the cool metal of the side-paneling; she cleared her throat, “Lotte,” she said quietly, “Do you need me to contact anyone?” It had taken that crew six years to get to Jupiter’s moons. “Over.”

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut.

She heard the next notes like a deflating balloon, “So you’ve figured it out too?” She said with a controlled tremor to her voice, “Well… I have a few people I would like to message if you could write it down. Over."

Sarah floated to the side of the makeshift storage room and found a pen and paper. She wrote down the woman’s mother’s name, her college professor’s email, and her ex-lover’s phone number.

“Do you want me too,” Sarah cringed, “uh, write down messages for them? For me to say to them. Over.”

She waited, she heard a sigh when the four minutes passed, “Just tell my mom I love her. That sort of thing. Tell the professor I wouldn’t be here without her, I mean, not here, in space, in a bad way, shit, actually don’t tell her that. Tell her that her intro classes are still making freshman wet themselves and I love it.” Sarah laughed.

“And the last one?” Sarah asked as she waited for Lotte to come back to her.

Lotte gave a snort, “Flip her off for me. Maybe subtly infer she’s been skipping arm day and is looking a little noodly. That would make my night. Over.”

Sarah chuckled deeply and it was hard for her to take it all in, she should be writing more down. She should be writing it all down. “You know,” Thoughts ran through Sarah’s head like a speeding stop-and-go traffic jam, “Are the rockets really not working? Because a simple continued jury-rig of the thrusters back to the navigation might, hmm, help.”

The response took longer than usual, “Don’t do this me.” Came the hushed reply, “I’ve tried, Sarah, don’t you think I’ve tried? Whoever you are, from wherever. Don’t do it.”

“Sarah Reyes.” She repeated slowly, blinking into the dark. “I’m from Minneapolis.”

Lotte hummed, “Oh…I’m from Belgium. Ghent. Nice to meet you.”

Sarah’s insides felt like they were turning all over the place, “I’ve been to Belgium, it’s very beautiful.”

“Not underwater yet?” The other girl joked, slightly off time due to the time lapse.

“They’re trying their best,” Sarah said with a sniff, “And they never invented a statute called ‘the Twinkie Law,’ so they did better than my city.”

She heard a strange groan from the other end of the line which made Sarah sit up straight, “I would honestly give anything right now for a twinkie. Anything.”

Sarah ended up laughing, “Alright, top ten food goos and then worst goos, go.”

Lotte made a choking sound, “Nooo, Sarah Reyes, all I want right now is some ripe cherries, a medium rare steak, fuck it, a rare steak, and ten twinkie’s, one for every finger. No goo.”

Sarah was snickering, “Well I want a nice hamburger and maybe a salad with ranch dressing. Kleenexes. Running water.” She smiled to herself, “And a proper toilet.”

The silver sound of a laugh came back from the other end, “Wrong answer! The whole reason I went to space was for suction toilets.”

“Oh no, no, no, come. On.” She said emphatically.

“What we all really need is at least one beer each.” Sarah snorted and Lotte bemoaned, “A margarita, two loggers, some vodka, good vodka, the kind the Russians would give to their moms.” Lotte lamented and Sarah shook her head.

“Why did you go to space then?” She asked fondly to the other end, “It’s the last dry county in humanities jurisdiction Dutch girl.”

Lotte huffed another laugh on the other end, “We’re getting personal now? Well, you first, why are you in space hurtling above the earth developing poor bone mass?”

Sarah let herself float up a little higher and used the next minute to think about her answer, she leaned toward the speaker, “Height.”

The five minutes passed and all that came back was a confused, “What?”

“I gain two and a half inches every time I come up here. Eventually, I figure I’ll hit five feet.”

A loud guffaw came back, “Taller! Of course, but what is that in human measurements?”

Sarah rolled her eyes, “Old habits. 6.3 centimeters and 1.5 meters, happy?”

“Woof,” Lotte barked back cheerily, “They really do bring them in smaller each year. Over.”

Sarah exhaled dramatically, “Back to you then Miss Lotte. How tall are you? And, I don’t know, what’s your favorite, hmm, tea?”

Two minutes, three, four.

“Tea? Boring. Do you know how close Jupiter’s atmosphere is to me right now? Ask me about my childhood nightmares and favorite sex position.” Sarah opened her mouth to respond with a dismissive sniff, but Lotte added quietly at the end, “…it’s mint by the way. Peppermint.”

Sarah smiled and she squeezed her eyes shut for a full minute, “Well, my childhood nightmare was Santa having literal claws and strangling me.” Sarah said good-humoredly as she drummed her fingers on her leg and counted the seconds.

“Is that your favorite position as well?”

“Lotte,” She said with a warning tone and considered turning back around toward the communication hub. The next five minutes left her contemplating if it was a crank call-- Houston did have some annoying interns.

“Strangling is perfectly natural, no need to be ashamed. I did it to my barbie dolls and everything.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, “They really do send them up crazier each year.”

Lotte laughed and it was a strained sound with a tin undertone. Sarah pursed her lips together, “Sarah?” Lotte said, barely audible over the static this time.

“Yeah?” She waited.

“Can you see earth?”

Sarah’s shoulders slumped over and she nodded meaninglessly before taking her finger off the feedback button and floating back over to the observatory. Two hours had passed.

She looked out over a deep brown storm cloud over China, a few glowing tendrils of cities and roads, and the textured darkness of the earth side of the sun. She went back to the transmitter, “We’re over the Bahama’s. It’s blue right now, very, very blue.”

She heard the softest of sounds over the radio, “My haul is made of titanium.” Lotte said carefully, “But I’m not sure if the radio waves will be disturbed by the planet’s magnetic field.”

“Oh.” Sarah said back, squeezing her eyes shut, knowing Lotte was still talking.

“And then the radiation will begin anyway,” Lotte made something that was almost a laugh, “remember those numbers okay? Tell my mom. You know. Tell my teacher I wasn’t going to make it without her, but not in this way. And tell Karen to, you know, fuck off.”

“Wait,” Sarah said breathlessly.

“I’m about to be sucked into the atmosphere, wait a little for me, k? We can see if this mess of a radio might hold up. Just wait a little. Then go tell the world I went out fighting. Fighting aliens or a space octopus, tell them that there are definitely space octopuses and the Argus went down swinging.”

“Okay,” Sarah rasped, holding the button down until the tip of her finger bleached white. “Okay!” She racked her brain for what to say, what eulogy’s people ended with or final lasting sentiments that maybe meant something, “I’ll eat some twinkies for you. Ten. One for each finger.”

Sarah waited. Two minutes. Three minutes. Five. Sarah was shaking, this isn’t what she expected when she woke up that morning. The station orbited into the sun side of the planet. What was she even going to tell Houston? How do you start that report?

Sarah rubbed her stinging eyes, “I’ll put them on my fingers too. Eat them in some Dutch coffee shop and kick your ex in the shins.” She pushed her palms into her eye sockets, “Oh God, oh my God.”

Numbness ran up and down her legs and she floated away from the feedback button. She was still glad she didn’t believe in ghosts-- she really didn’t need this one.

She turned back to exit the room and float to somewhere far away and cold and curl up for a little bit.

Shhh–What’s up loser?!

Sarah jumped and turned around instantaneously, “Lotte?!” She jammed her finger on the transmission button.

“Can you hear me? I can’t see out my window right now, but the magnetism might not be messing with my radio as much as I thought. More discoveries for science, yay. Have them name a cockroach after me or something. Unless, of course, you can’t hear me and this is just, you know, the death chasm I’m speaking into--”

“I can hear you!” Sarah yelled as her finger cramped on the switch, the red light flared like a fog horn. “I can hear you, it’s still working!” She didn’t know why she was excited; this girl was entering into one of the most radioactive places in the solar system, Sarah kept her eyes on the speaker.

A tired exhale answered, “You waited after all.”

Sarah bit her lip, “Yeah. I waited.”

The four minutes felt excruciating, “I figure I have around forty-five minutes… Anyway, if you’re curious, it is incredibly hot. If I didn’t have any decency left I would be naked right now.”

Sarah sniffed, “No one can see you, you know. And I imagine it’s burning up.”

The next transmission was garbled, but she could still make it out, “Dying in the void of space is one thing, dying in the void of space butt-naked is another.”

Sarah couldn’t get herself to laugh this time, but she tried, “Well, I’ll tell everyone you were wearing a full suit of armor. Pearls. Evening gloves. The octopus didn’t stand a chance.”

Lotte made a soft sound, “That’s really all I ask, heels too, I miss heels. I felt tall, like one of those small dogs on top of tables? Or the fact you enjoy getting 5 centimeters taller in space?”

Sarah made an exasperated noise, “I don’t suppose you mock all the people you share last words with.”

Lotte gave a soft chuckle, “Just you darling.” A long pause followed and Sarah didn’t move to fill it; Lotte took her time with another slow hissing breath, “Tell me about something.”

Sarah blinked, “I have a collection of coins from the Ottoman empire.”

“Okay,” Lotte sounded faint, “Who was your first crush? Besides 16th century Sultans or something I mean. What was your first book? What's your favorite kiss? Come on,” Lotte snickered weakly, “I’m dying here.”

Sarah’s skin felt too tight, itching in the dark, “My crush was Martina Rodriquez. Fifth grade, she punched me in the face once after I told her that her that her nose was crooked. I learned to read when I was three so I don’t really remember the books, accelerated learning and all that. I learned to speak in full sentences when I was six. My first kiss was,” Sarah sighed, “Don’t laugh okay? In my college’s chemistry lab, age 23.” She said all of it quickly with pained breaths, time was measured in fours and fives.

A laugh came back from the other side of the universe anyway, “Chemistry lab? God, you’re the one giving astronauts a nerdy name.”

“Hey!”

“And it’s cute. You sound cute. I’m sure you’re very smart too, can probably name way too many numbers of pi.” She could, “I guess I was like that too…Why I’m up here.” Lotte trailed off.

“Why are you up here?” Seven minutes passed.

“I saw Cassiopeia one night… my grandpa told me they hung her upside down in the night sky to punish her. I fell in love,” Sarah clenched her jaw tight, “I guess you could say that’s how it happened. Love or whatever.”

“Lotte--” Sarah put her face next to the speaker.

“You know, I always thought this is what I wanted to do.” Lotte was faltering, “And it is.” She repeated with a slight hysteria and frantic-edge to her words, “I think it was always what I wanted to do. Always.” There came a pause and Sarah heard a strangled retching noise on the other side.

“Lotte!” She yelled into the intercom, “Lotte, are alright?”

It took a very long time before she got a response and then she was back to waiting, “Yeah,” A voice finally said hoarsely, “Just…puking. You know, when you get to see food goo all over again? That feeling.” Lotte sounded like she was trying to laugh, “Sarah?”

“Yeah?”

“Who was this first kiss?” Lotte asked quietly before sniffing, “Was she cuter than me? I hope not… And then, what’s, what’s your favorite tea?”

Sarah squeezed her free hand closed, balling it up into a painful fist and digging her nails in, “No. She was a PhD. student and thought that Potato Poots was a good pet name. She…” Sarah snorted, “Wasn’t cuter than you, promise. My, my, favorite tea is Black tea. I used to drink it with my aunts.”

Two minutes. Three minutes. Six.

“Potato Poots? Take that back, that is a wonderful pet name and now I’m going to date this girl that was your first kiss,” Sarah chuckled, “Black tea is a good choice. The closest one to coffee. My brother owns a coffee shop,” Lotte was talking quickly now, “Visit him too. Tell him…I’m sorry. I’m sorry we fought so much, God, for everything.”

“Yes, yes, I mean--”

“Tell all of them I loved them. Dammit, even Karen, tell her to get her shit together. None of this…none of anything else. Nothing else matters.”

Sarah sighed and her entire body was shaking, “I can do that, yes. Lotte, we won’t forget.”

“That I died naked in the void of space?” Lotte returned back after seven minutes, “Because that’s a thing now.”

“Naked, fighting an octopus, right?” Sarah said with her face straining into a smile.

“Yeah.” Lotte was panting on the other end now, but her voice came through. “Who was your first love, Sarah?”

Sarah felt her mouth go dry, she hadn’t drunk anything in hours. Houston would be furious. “I’ve never been in love.” She whispered back, “I just wanted to do…this.” She flinched at the wording.

Lotte took eight minutes to respond, “Yeah?” She said breathlessly, “Well. Do that for me, k? Being in love is nice. It’s like this, except no one is riding into the next layer of Jupiter’s helium.”

Sarah gave a weak smile, “It’s like this?”

“It’s like this.” Wheezing, “Go do that for me.”

“How’re you feeling?” Sarah tried to get her to keep talking and Lotte told her that she threw up again. Sarah could hear audible strained audible breathing through the speaker, she was gasping.

“We weren’t really over the Bahama’s, were we?”

Sarah frowned and she looked toward where the window would be, “It was dark out, yeah. But the cities were bright. Like stars, we always liked stars, right? People like us.”

“People like us collect Ottoman coins and cover their hands in Twinkies Sarah.”

She smiled, “Good. I hear that’s what being in love is like.”

Lotte coughed, a deep gurgling sound that filled the air, “Sounds dumb.”

“It is.”

Sarah could hear her fading out, “Lotte? Lotte how’re you--”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck--” A sob shook the speaker.

“Lotte.”

“FUCK, I don’t want to die.”

“Wait, wait, no, it’s going to be okay.”

“Quick, tell me something nice to say, something good, God, GOD, I wish I had been good. I wish had been better.”

“Wait! Wait, no.”

“Sarah,” She could hear the crying now, the sickly wet tremor in her voice, “Sarah I can’t see anything. It’s so hot, oh my god, I can’t do this, SARAH-”

Sarah screamed back into the mic, “I’m here! I’m here! Wait!”

No sound came back from the other side, Sarah’s eyes went wide, and she counted up to a thousand. She couldn’t feel her teeth.

“One thousand and four, one thousand and five, Lotte? Lotte De Vos, can you hear me?” Five minutes. Ten minutes.

Sarah curled up into herself and pulled on her hair, her other finger still on the transmission button and the room bathed in the one red light, “Lotte," She blared, "Lotte!” It was a wretched, animalistic scream, but it wasn’t for the radio, it wasn’t for her.

She wished she believed in ghosts.

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

Sarah Reyes went back to earth within the fortnight. She told them she wasn't feeling well. She told them about the Argus. They told her to take some time off, she told them she wasn't coming back.

Sarah went to Belgium, she gave a very nice older woman a hug, she got a lifetime’s promise of free coffee, and she looked at painting after painting done by people she realized were now dead. She smiled at the nice young woman across the street that sold flowers and she didn't say hi, but she did wave this time. It was a place to start. Lotte would have wanted something like that.

FIN

Hey! All my hours were cut at my job bc of coronavirus, if you enjoyed my writing please, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or becoming a patron I could really use the help!

[televisionrulesthenation]

S1E8 - “To Tell or Not to Tell”

Original air date: November 14, 1961

Episode recap

The Petries are hosting a dinner party. Buddy and Sally do a sing-songy comedy routine while Rob plays the piano. Rob gets up and does a physical comedy routine. Laura gets up and does (what I assume is) some sort of ‘60s-style dancing. Cut to the end of the party, all the guests leave, Rob is tired, Laura goes on and on about what I wonderful time she had dancing.

Next day at the office Rob talks about how much fun Laura had dancing for the dinner party audience. Buddy is worried. Apparently non-homemaking interests from the wife should be worrying to the husband. Mel comes in and asks Rob if Laura can fill in as a dancer on the show this week. Buddy gets more worried. He thinks being married to a career woman is bad. Rob calls Laura to see if she’s interested assuming she won’t be. She’s interested.

Back at home Rob and Richtie are having dinner together because Laura is still rehearsing at the show. He fails at making a TV dinner. They eat bananas instead. Later that night Laura comes home tired. Rob has questions about how to operate the washing machine. Roles have become reversed. Rob is not happy but keeps it to himself.

Next day at the office the snappy service guy is dropping off lunch for Rob, Buddy and Sally. Laura comes in on a break looking hot in her leotard. The lunch delivery guy gawks over her.

After Laura’s successful week as a fill-in, Mel tells Rob he wants to offer her a permanent contract as a dancer on the show. Rob is worried but delivers the news to Laura at home that night. Laura is happy. She had a fun week proving to herself she could do it. But her body can’t keep up. She wants to be a homemaker not a career woman. Rob is relieved.

Everything is about me

Ostensibly, we can make it on my salary alone. But then she went back to work part-time, and the budget balanced a little more easily. We were able to move into this bigger house. There was a little money for some fun.

But she wasn’t happy working, and we figured she didn’t need to work, so she quit.

And the budget got tighter. We can make it. But there’s not a lot of room for fun. Or all those finishing aesthetic touches on our new house.

Her going back to work part-time bought me some peace if I’m being honest.

In the back of my mind I figured as the kids got older, she’d be able to work more, and that be our money boost. I didn’t need to obsess over getting promoted to make an income leap. That leap would be solved for organically by her eventually working full time.

And I still sort of feel that way. But her quitting is a temporary blip. Like I said, she wasn’t happy. She was feeling stressed and not operating in a position of strength to be the best mom she could be. She wants to focus on her health and happiness and kids’ health and happiness.

She wanted to figure out what the heck she wants to do with the rest of her life. She wants to take an art class and find the right exercise program and start a garden and do whatever else projects.

Problem is all that figuring out costs money and there isn’t a whole lot of it to spare in the current tight budget. And my attitude is probably putting pressure on her that some sort of clock is counting down until she figures something out and gets back to work. I keep saying “this year” or “these two years” like there’s a cliff at the end.

And she really doesn’t love doing some of the things she would need to do to truly make this work. We backed off some expenses, like housecleaner and dog groomer only once per month. But haven’t gone truly all in.

To truly make this work, we would need no housecleaning, no dog grooming, no pool cleaner, no yard guy. Her do all that stuff, work it into a schedule. Do whatever the 2021 version of clip coupons is, and really lock down our grocery budget. Essentially do all the homemaking things.

Our kids’ soccer training schedules are brutal Monday through Thursday evening and we still haven’t figured out how to do dinner those nights in a healthy and cost effective way with our sanity in check. That would take effort that she doesn’t want to put forth.

So it’s been four months, and she is not any closer to figuring out what she wants to do, she is not any healthier or happier. The trade-off was supposed to be less money for more time and happiness. But I’m not sure we are getting what we paid for with the forgone part-time dollars she was bringing in.

I am not sure where that leaves her or us.

Episode observations

Life before cell phones

No major changes to the plot except I reckon many of these Rob/Laura conversations--both the routine and the difficult--happen via text not phone.

Clothes and fashion

Rob’s cardigan and polo shirt and slacks house wear, he looked like Mr. Rogers.

Richtie’s robe and button up pajamas, he looked like Hugh Hefner. 

Laura’s leotard, she looked hot.

Vocabulary lesson

Someone, I think it may have been buddy, said something along the lines of, “give him a rap, right in the mouth.” I assume raps means punch/hit/strike. I feel like I’ve heard this usage before but can’t think of where.

OK, wow, just Googled it, and this usage is the first definition in both noun and verb form, while rap as in the music is the second definition.

Best joke/funniest moment

Clearly, the funniest moment of the show was Buddy’s. He was funny throughout. But one moment in particular stood out. He’s talking to Rob about how to get Laura give up on a career in dance and says to take her on a skiing trip. Rob replies that Laura can’t ski, she’ll break her leg. Buddy gets this evil look in his eyes and says, “yeah” with a dramatic pause. The “yeah” was good enough, but he tags on, “you catch on fast.” They call back to this at the end of the episode when Laura mentions maybe she could dance on the show one week per year then Rob asks if she’d like to go skiing.

But I have to give honorable mention to a not as funny but just so well written joke. Rob is about to call Laura about her career prospects. Buddy says, don’t do anything rash. Sally says, leave him alone, it’s his rash.

(Dishonorable mention to Sally’s jokes about needing a husband. They are getting old and I would like them to stop.)

Assorted thoughts on life in the 1960s

Laura’s dancing at the beginning of the episode was odd looking to me. I guess it’s just dated. I kept waiting for it to be a comedy setup. That she’d get injured or something. Not that it’d be interpreted as good.

People watched sing-songy variety shows on TV backed then apparently. Up until this episode--or maybe the previous episode--I hadn’t put much thought into what the fictional Alan Brady Show was supposed to be. But I guess it’s a sing-songy variety show. And I guess people liked that sort of thing. I haven’t done a “checking in with my mom” section on this blog recently and probably should have on this topic. Maybe in upcoming posts I will get her take on ‘60s variety shows

The 1960s attitude on traditional gender roles were on heavy display. Buddy was laying it on thick about disdain for working women, e.g. “losing a wife, gaining a roommate.” (Buddy has plenty more borderline sexist analogies about working women sprinkled throughout.) Mel checks with Rob first about career decisions concerning Laura. Rob can’t cook, even a frozen dinner. Eventually Laura conforms to this too, admitting she’d wants Rob to take her away from all this, doesn’t want to be a dancer, she wants to be a wife.

Final thoughts

Sometimes I question if were are splitting the baby to some extent when it comes to working. At least at this point now that our youngest is less than a couple years to middle school. That is should we go full traditional model or full dual income model not this mixed economy model we’ve got going on? And sometimes I think maybe we’re doing exactly the work-life integration model that 2021 calls for.

[sanoiro]

Lucifer 5x04 - The Mega Meta

This episode, the one all the cast and writers praised turned out to be the most challenging for the audience. Several hated it mainly for interrupting the flow of S5P1 whilst introducing a ‘weak’ story for Lucifer’s ring. Others loved it for all the meta, the concealed trivia and details that exist in that episode. 

In my opinion 5x04 took it’s time to warm up to my heart and therefore today it’s time to write a meta on it. I’ll try to cover all the bases and if I miss something I apologise! 

This meta will analyse, lines, settings, songs hopefully with the order they appear in the episode, as well as hints that it gives us for P2, the end of the series and many more things. 

The credits open to Lucifer whistling as per Netflix’s subtitles ‘Chattanooga Choo Choo’

A song of about a man waiting for his train as he gets a shoe shine. The lyrics reveal at the end that a girl is waiting him at his destination and that he intents to marry her and settle... A good foreshadowing about Lucifer no? Especially after the S3 game night fiasco...  

There's gonna be a certain party at the station Satin and lace, I used to call funny face She's gonna cry until I tell her that I'll never roam

By the way what’s this obsession over daggers and them killing people? Didn’t we have enough with the Flaming Sword in S2? 

Trixie: Has it ever killed anyone?

Let’s keep it that way kid... Although I doubt it. 

Now take a moment to realise that Lucifer was in Hell for thousands of years. He hasn’t had sex since his relationship with Eve and for his last night on Earth he prefers to play a game of Monopoly with Trixie and only when she turns him down Lucifer suggests getting a drink at LUX always in her company. That’s progress...

It also busts all claims of Lucifer being a sex obsessed maniac. 

The year is 1946...

WW2 is over and we find Lucifer in a new setting, a familiar one where through the episode we see that he has not just visited again but he is frequent visitor around that time. Just a few years later after all he was seen through Kinley’s photos in Nazi Germany. Now we know it was because apparently he owns a castle there, in the Austrian Alps... Not exactly in mint condition after the war though... 

By the way the castle that corresponds to that 22 bedroom description Lucifer gives is Schloss Ernegg Castle which belongs to the same family since the 17th century and it’s in great condition. Actually it operates as a hotel! 

The Hurry plays as we see Ellis strolling the WB New York area of the lot. Great old ones were shot there.. Like The Big Sleep (1946) staring Bogart and Bacall which was shot in 1944, reshot some parts in 1945 but was released after all the ‘proper’ war time movies were released first. 

A bit like this episode The Big Sleep carries ‘process of a criminal investigation, not its results’. Also around that time we have The Killers coming out, The Killers is important to mention as aside from being based on a story by Hemingway who was in Cuba in 1946 not in New York as Lucifer claims, it was directed by Robert :. Siodmak made most of the Hollywood’s noir classics and was always faithful to the doomed attraction which would always resolve to a nihilistic conclusion... (Thank you wiki! :P)

The connection to Lucifer, between the lines and the off hand comments like Hemingway is that noir films were based on the German Expressionism in cinema, and one of the most prominent figure for the US was that one German director Robert Siodmak. 

The purpose of the above information is in order to tell you that a black & whte effect and a crime story is not what makes a noir episode. The writers were faithful to the core of noir. Entrapment, flashbacks, narration. The tropes of murder, jealousy, backstabbing and crime is also there, easy to replicate after all for sure. A dead man walking and ‘selective’ amnesia is also convenient... 

Triumph and tragedy can be found and lost in the maze of the cities and in questionable establishments... Like in bars... 

Moving on!

The credits open and we listen to The Hurry Up played by The Heath And His Orchestra. Dear Heath was British not an American. A subtle nod to Ellis probably as the leading man. But here is the thing Heath was the performer not the composer of that piece. The composer was Kenny Graham (Again British) and probably that piece was written after 1958 but anyways it’s an inconsistency we (-I-) can certainly live with!

Lucifer and Lilith last meeting was at around 1770 (Marie Antoinette was born in 1755) now whether in Austria or France who knows....  I would assume that Lucifer stayed in Austria until WW2 as aside from the wars and other issues it had a great cultural field for him to explore such as literature, music and lacked the brashness of the new-founded then US (1776). 

Tiny issue here... Moctezuma (The 2nd) who Lilith claims to have met died in 1520, a bit after Cortés arrived in what we know today as Mexico so we can assume that Lilith travelled between the New World and Europe until Lucifer found her in New York in 1946. 

Lilith in a relationship with Tommy Stomponato who owned the club, she probably influenced him enough to name it ‘The Garden’ as se admits to Gertie later in the episode, she really loved that Garden hence why she took a small part of it with her. 

Now the name Tommy Stomponato is directly influenced by Johnny Stomponato part and bodyguard of the Cohen Mafia boss Mickey Cohen. Now funny thing he was stabbed by Lana Turner’s (Hollywood star) daughter Cheryl Crane... That remind us a bit of Gertie as she yes both were stabbed by a woman but both were not prosecuted. The first as Lilith didn’t want Gertie to lose the limited time she had with her husband and Cheryl because she claimed self-defense. 

The first time we see Lesley Ann as Lilith she sings ‘I want to be evil’ originally performed at the debut of Eartha Kitt and first released in 1953. It is considered brilliant for it’s feminism and ‘video clip’ starring Kitt... 

It’s a song that carries Lilith’s agony which even Eve carried. The need for freedom, the need to break the chains of what they should be and what we see that even Maze carries throughout the series. It’s a song that reaffirms that betrayal towards God, Adam and Lucifer in Maze’s case is not an act of evilness but the need of these women to re-sculpture themselves without aid or instructions. In Kitt’s case it was social conformity. Also Johnnie Ray was the ‘guy who cries’ aside from his hit song in 1951 ‘Cry’ him crying after his wedding was received with mixed feelings I believe from the press and his fans. 

Now we see that crime for Lucifer was fun and again he wanted to Laugh with Hemingway who again in 1946 was not in New York but had just starting to write his novel ‘Garden of Eden (published posthumously in 1986) and it explored the reversal of gender roles a bit like this Lucifer episode does. 

So Lucifer accepts the case of finding the ring but needs help. Jack Monroe is the one that can help him and the name is inspired probably by Iowa’s born Jack Monroe Marvel character who lived in New York, fought the Nazi (See Jack talking about the Battle of the Bulge), sidekick to Captain America - in a way - and ended up shot and killed. The character had many cliche detective phrases. But that’s mostly a likely speculation :P 

Now as Jack goes to talk to the ‘rat’ Lucifer comments on Gertie serving him a drink ‘Just what the doctor ordered’ an obvious connection to Harris playing Dr Linda. 

A nice prop is the machine gun over the bar an alleged gift from Al Capone who had been arrested 17 years earlier and died in 1947.

Thanks for listening, XOXO A. Capone

Now Lucky Larry who ends up dead is wearing an eyepatch probably a nod to another great director of noir films and of german expressionism in cinematography Fritz Lang. 

At that point we have the talk between Lucifer and Jack concerning the laters problem with his wife.  The story as everyone has noticed is a parallel with the issue that Lucifer and Chloe never begun on an equal ground. Someone had manipulated them and in both cases both parties suffered. Both men were manipulated by someone over them in hierarchy and both stood on a dilemma on how to proceed. It took Lucifer over 60 years to realise how difficult it was to leave and even then in 2x14 he returned. 

 As Jack and Lucifer get to Willy’s mansion all the paintings depict him as a great warrior in all possible eras. As Napoleon, Fritz of Austro-Hungarian Empire, Henry the 8th, Ivan, and that armour I believe it was from Carlomagne?

Also Hannibal crossing the Alps? 

The little sausages are self-explenatory for the character and perhaps the lilies in his house a connection to the episode and the P1′s plot. 

Lucifer checking the armour’s genital protector? Priceless :P As was Willy’s connection to Dan. 

Now something that always make me wonder is why Lilith calls God Adam’s father as if she never considered him her own. At the same time she gives us a big hint there. She never walked away she was ‘sent’ away. 

Gertie reveals there that her husband was wounded at the Guadalcanal campaign which ended in 1943 meaning that Bill was unresponsive for about three years at that point. The good news is that Bill seems to have been inspired by Bill Lentsch. Lentsch wrote a memoir called My Story and then adapted under the Title Hope For Wounded Warriors.

As a wounded warrior, Bill Lentsch knows the frustrating feelings of apparent helplessness and hopelessness. A sea-going Marine on the cruiser USS Vincennes at the beginning of World War II, he was a "hot shell catcher". The story of Bill's survival when the Vincennes sank is a story of miracles. In contrast, the story of his post-war rehabilitation and readjustment to civilian life, including a bad marriage {Sanoiro: At this point we have a differentiation but you never know}, contains more than its share of dark pages and the consequences of poor choices. Contemplating the option of murder, then suicide, was a vivid reality. Thankfully, the story of his later years brings hope and inspiration as Bill shares his personal journey of discovery.

Meanwhile the investigation continues.  In the apartment we see pigeon cages a rather popular hobby back then in New York and not just for the messages they transported. Also do notice the WB water tower in the back. Iconic!

Lucifer finds a cuban cigar. Romeo y Juliet. The meta here obvious bit nonetheless important to our main love story. 

With Stomponato dead we have a chance to delve a bit to Egyptian mythology. 

First the missing heart. The main organ that according to ancient Egyptians held the answer of how well you had done while you lived and what you deserved after death. It was measured and a conclusion sent you to afterlife or to damnation. 

Second the Anubis mask. He was the God of Death who oversaw the heart weighting process. The colour black symbolised the Nile’s sand and thus regeneration as the river was a symbol of life. Anubis was adopted by Isis

Third the Eye of Horus. The Eye of Horus was used as a sign of prosperity and protection, derived from the myth of Isis and Osiris. This symbol has an astonishing connection between neuroanatomical structure and function.  

That’s the basics but you can go further from there if you want to just remember that Egyptian deities hold an Ankh the symbol and work of life. 

In 504 we learn that death is final, there is no eternal life. It cannot be given as a commodity, the ring cannot help so I would focus more on the stone itself and if Lilith’s immortality is used then it will not be used as it is in my opinion but more about that later on. 

The shop sacred eye and the high priest take us back to two episodes of S1. First in 1x07 - Wingman where the high priest parallels the auctioner who was ready to sell everything of ‘supernatural’ worth knowing they were mostly garbage to make money. Second 1x12 - #TeamLucifer the satanic high priest who had said ‘-the Devil ain't gonna buy me an Aston Martin’. In 504 the High Priest wanted a Pontiac. 

Lucifer comment on Tutankhamun loving the pre-sacrificed bloody heart might have to do with the Egyptian mythology that  If a heart during the scaling was judged to be not pure, Ammit (female demon/god) would devour it, and the person undergoing judgment would not allowed to continue their afterlife journey.

One of the best lines delivered in this episode is also foreshadowing P2 in my opinion and why not some bts but not clear or definite ones. 

In the modern age, we are taught to fear death. But the ancients understood that death... is power. - High Priest (Lucifer 5x04)

It is why I always say that death is not the last frontier in our series and as such it should be taken neither as the final chapter to an individual’s story nor as irreversible (with the right collaterals always) somehow. Although you cannot cheat death forever, this is the beauty of our story. Death is valued just as much as life. 

As such as we are in the High Priest ‘office’ it is not accidental we see the Tree of Life (See my Tree of Life Meta *Here*). The designs are Celtic around the mirroring tree of Life in what we can assume is in Life and Death is as vibrant and ‘alive’ in both sides. 

1) triskelion: meaning the three legs, is an ancient pre-celtic symbol that can be traced to the bronze era. It symbolises the holy trinity in Christianism but also the inner and outer world of spirits. As you can tell it holds a variety of meanings and even if it is just there, picked in random from the WB prop house we should note that it also symbolises the trinity of life, death and rebirth as well as the trinity of the transition of womanhood. The Triple Goddess: maiden, mother and the (older?) wise woman. 

For this meta we will take the trinity of life, death and rebirth as well as elevate it to the transition of our lead characters. Chloe as a young woman, a mother and now a ‘wise’ older and more mature woman. Lucifer as the young rebel, a struggling with maturity and responsibility man and what he may become by the end of S5 without shedding any of his prior roles and identities. Only this time his identities no longer ‘stain’ him. 

2) Knotted symbol - Eternal knot: We see them in many cultures and religions in Buddhism they represent birth, death and rebirth. In the inside we see Solmon’s Knot a symbol of immortality and eternity but some also parallel it to Lover’s Knot (See True Lover’s Knot), an ancient symbol of commitment and love. From this keep the eternal part of the symbolism which is often depicted in jewish cemeteries. 

3) Celtic Cross: They are said to be based on some cases to the Egyptian Ankh (See Coptic Crosses), some also allege the design in the combination of the Christian cross and the pagan sun disk. 

4) The Celtic Tree of Life: For this I take what is written in this site

The tree represents rebirth. Trees were said to guard the land and acted as a doorway into the spirit world.

The Tree of Life connects the lower and upper worlds as its roots grow far down while its branches reach high. The tree trunk connects both of these worlds to the Earth’s plane. It was with this connection of worlds, that it was said that people are able communicate with the gods in the heavens using the Tree of Life.

Tree of Life knots symbolize the branches and roots of a tree which are woven together with no end to show how the cycle of life is continuous.

Through the second part of the episode I was always looking at Lucifer’s tie. I might be wrong but it reminded me a lot of gears, with a heart and clocks on it. Essentially the clock is ticking... in more ways that one as well as for Lilith but give me some more lines before I return to this meta point.

As Lucifer asks how humans believe her ring makes her immortal she ends her story with the line:

“I survive, and... somebody writes it on a stone tablet. You know how these things start.”

For me that was always a direct reference to the Favourite Son deal we had with the book in episode 2x17. As Lucifer said in 2x18 when Chloe asked whether his Dad said that Amenadiel was His favourite, Lucifer replies: 

In so many Sumerian words. 

Later on in S3 (3x14) Lucifer tells to Cain that Amenadiel is the favourite when he asks him as: 

But the quick version: a book said it, so it must be true.

To be honest this re-occurring mentioning makes me hold to my belief that something was translated wrong there...

As the 5x04 sceheme to get the ring back is underway Lilith looks at Jack & Shirley’s interaction which is interesting not because it’s when Lilith starts to perhaps thinking of retiring her immortality but because a very special question comes to mind. 

Michael knew the ring’s story. He claimed that he was the one who manipulated Lucifer into having his vacation, but his vacation just ‘happened’ to be at the same time Chloe was on Earth? 

Here is a speculative meta. 

Lilith asks Lucifer if he ever connected with anyone emotionally to which he replies: 

Absolutely not. It would take a literal miracle for me to want something like that, and I'm fairly certain my father's not handing those out anymore.

It makes you wonder whether Michael was around listening, planning carefully his next moves. That that’s how he knew the ring’s story, or how he may have plotted Chloe’s miraculous birth by manipulating God. 

At this point everything is possible but we should never forget that God at that point is still powerful and omniscience so Michael might be only alf of the explanation why Chloe is on Earth as a key for Michael to take down his brother and materialise his other plans. The other half is only known by God but will he be willing to share in P2 or even in S6 if he appears there? 

Lesley-Ann as Lilith starts to sing ‘Someone to Watch Over Me’ a song written over the songwritter’s (Ira Gershwin) wedding anniversary, a true love song on many levels written in 1926 and featured in the Brodway Musical ‘Hey, Kay!’. 

The musical’s plot is about an engaged womaniser falls in love with Kay and the song after lots of thought was placed to reveal to the audience of Kay’s realising that she is in love with the male lead, womaniser Jimmy. 

We will never perhaps know if by imminence to Lilith’s first song lyrics, Lilith to a point was in love with Lucifer and held on to hope until she surrendered everything for a normal life not wanting to wait for the impossible. Of course that’s just one interpretation not a hard conviction of mine. 

An analysis of the song writes: 

When first composing this piece, the Gershwin brothers tried to capture the feeling of safety (and love) that everybody longs to have. The addition of the doll (a doll was added as the listener of the song in the rehearsals and stayed in the show) only enhanced the childlike, vulnerable side of the song that was being hinted at in lyrics such as, “I’m a little lamb who’s lost in the woods.”

Although many artists sing this like a love song, its first performance, directed at a doll, gave the piece an aura of safety not usually present in romantic songs.

Perhaps that safety should be also attributed here. Lilith still has her safety still holding on to her immortality knowing though that she will surrender it. Lucifer is unaware he one day will surrender his willingly because he fell in love. 

In the end they both carry the vulnerability of needing someone to understand and love them. No matter how cynical we find both Lilith and Lucifer with his brutal Caligula orgy comments, they both crave about someone. Both have lost hope to their Shepard aka God/Dad.

 Perhaps I’m wrong on my first impression with Lilith and her affection towards Lucifer. Perhaps they both are the prodigal children, lost in the woods wishing for someone to finally take care of them but no longer hoping for one, until Lilith takes the leap. Lucifer will need almost 80 more years and Chloe Decker to let someone take care of him. 

Perhaps that’s why they do a duet on the lyrics:

Someone who'll watch over me

I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood I know I could, always be good To one who'll watch over me

And the case is back to move the episode forward and enter the present Lucifer Trixie interlude and ‘Forget it Trix. It’s Chinatown!’

That line was the most obvious one as it comes from the more recent noir movie with Bogart and Chinatown (1974).  In the movie aside from the mystery plot Evelyn - the mother eventually dies, the twist is that of an abuse which led to her daughter/sister’s birth and although that does not fit our serie’s plot the death of the main lady might. All a speculation so do not be dishearten remember all the above and this is not an S&S it’s a meta :P 

After all Lucifer’s line goes back to the complex dealings in Chinatown and how understanding something fully is not always feasible. 

Interesting is also how Lucifer shots, albeit the foot not the leg, of willy to prove Willy is not immortal. Like Chloe did to him in 1x04 and to Michael in 5x02. Jewelry is not going to save anyone. Big words but you know me. I believe in other provisions or actions even if they include the ring. 

We all die, Lily. And that's okay. Truth is... I'd rather die today trying to save the man I love... than live forever without him.

The past, the present and perhaps the future?

The case is resolved and Jack follows Shirley to Des Moines (Capital of Iowa). That’s an inner joke as Joe Henderson is from Iowa and graduated from the University of Iowa. 

Before Jack follows her remember that Shirley had asked more from him when he told her to be careful. A bit like Chloe in the evidence room in 5x08. If some have watched unconditional love then you might remember the scene where Kathy Bates tells to her husband played by Dan Aykroyd that him telling her ‘I love you was never a condition but at that point it now was. Similar to what we saw Chloe asking from Lucifer. A foreshadowing perhaps that eventually Lucifer will follow Chloe. 

Now two things. Lucifer in episode 504 prepares their game night. He is now comfortable and even enjoying their game nights, he find himself right where he wants to be without being fearful of being dull. He is a shoe and that’s fine. 

When Trixie asks Lucifer whether Jack and Shirley had a happy ending he tells her probably not as they moved to Des Moines meaning it was a boring move between New York and Iowa in general. Iowa and Des Moines have been used several times in jokes by the way due to Henderson. 

Now back to Lucifer, at that point he does not see that sometimes sacrifices that lead to ‘boring’ lives are the best outcome and happiness is not equal to excitement but he is a slowly maturing Devil... 

That part can help us to analyse the end of the story from 1946. 

Lucifer says: Once you do this, there's no going back.

This implies that whether you surrender your immortality or gain it -for the second I’m quite doubtful it can be done on the same terms - it is forever. No going back. 

Lilith’s next words reveal a broken woman who gets her Hail Mary and hopes for the best. As a parent she offered her children the best place to never realise they are lacking but Lucifer by bringing Maze to earth undid that as Maze slowly reaches her potential, learning there is a different way. God’s words echo since 3x26.

So was Lucifer a kindergarten guardian for Lilith? In a way yes but Lucifer in 5x04 understood Lilith’s logic. In their distorted image of how you can break an individual, the Lilims seemed safe from Lucifer’s and Lilith’s fates. Cast out, punished, unloved, lonely and in an unspoken despair to connect but too afraid to try again until Lilith tried again. The end of 504 showed she didn’t succeed o find what she was looking for. We have no way of knowing if we will see her again in P2 but it’s probable. 

Lilith kisses Lucifer goodbye, making me once again wonder if a part of her did had feelings for him and wishes him back to enjoy the rest of his life as if somehow she knew, although she couldn’t. 

The story ends here and perhaps the clock starts ticking for Lucifer through Michael. Perhaps the planning started with Penelope and John that were meant to be born, get married but not have children and then Chloe came along. But that’s just a theory...

And before the screen fades to dark, Lilith walks away with Lucifer standing in the middle of the street and we listen to ‘This Is Ours’ by Peter Sivo’s Band (1946-1961).

This is Ours lyrics are the words of a man which mystify me. For me it is a song that gives us a couple together after a very long time that reconnects. It was a meant to be couple but the past had to happen. He had to get married, for both of them to live apart their own lives until one day they get back together and now they can be together. There is no sadness, there is relief, contentment. 

Several say that How I Met Your Mother had an awful ending. If you have not watched it and want to please stop here but know that I believe that the ending was just right. 

In How I Met Your Mother, the lead (father) marries the mother of his children but it is revealed that she eventually dies and some years later he starts telling them a story that lasts ten years as all aspects of it in his belief is about how he met their mother. His daughter interrupts him saying that no it’s about how he met the woman he wants to be together now. They all know that the Mother was loved and was the One but in this life there is more, there are second chances because life happens and it’s not a bad thing and the time in between is as joyful as the future despite of the tragedies in between. 

So a part of me wonders if Deckerstar will go a bit through that to a point. 

Forget the past, for this is ours...

The thing is that a bittersweet ending gives as a possibility and then we are left wondering past that. 

Trixie: I bet Jack and Shirley talked the whole bus ride and fixed everything. Lucifer: Yes. Yes, perhaps they did.

After all they did move to Des Moines... After that we can only guess. 

[watusichris]

Betty Davis: They Say She’s Different

It appears that everything anyone has written for the old Music Aficionado site has now disappeared from the web. A random Facebook post has prompted me to re-purpose this story, written in 2016, about my favorite funketress. **********

To this day, the name Betty Davis – Betty with a “y,” that is – remains best known to connoisseurs of Miles Davis minutiae and ‘70s funk obsessives. While it’s true that Betty played an important off-stage role in the career of the jazz trumpeter, to whom she was married for just a year, and she undoubtedly made some of the best hardcore funk records of her era, she deserves to be recognized beyond the relatively narrow provinces of the jazzbo and the crate-digger.

Uncompromising, intelligent, brazen, aggressive, and not incidentally gorgeous, sexually provocative, and a fashion plate always ahead of the curve, Betty was a prophetic figure. Spawned by the explosion of music, fashion, and alternative culture of the late ‘60s, and by concurrent leaps in black consciousness and feminism, she was a take-no-prisoners singer and writer who presented herself as something new, rich, and strange with her self-titled debut album in 1973.

There were some badass contemporaries working the soul and funk trenches– gutter-tongued diva Millie Jackson and one-time James Brown paramour Yvonne Fair leap to mind immediately – but they seemed to be adapting tropes previously worked by male singers in the genres. Betty still sounds like something new: a tough, smart, demanding woman who reveled in pleasure and insisted on satisfaction, unafraid to claim what she wanted.

Despite the fact that she was associated with some high-profile male musician friends and lovers – beyond Davis, the roll call included Hugh Masekela, Jimi Hendrix, Sly Stone, Mike Carabello, Eric Clapton, and Robert Palmer – she was no groupie or bed-hopping climber. Possessed of her own self-defining vision, she was producing her own records and leading a tight, flexible little band by the end of her brief run.

In 1976, after completing four splendid albums (only three of which were released at the time), she disappeared, not only from the music business but from the public eye entirely. What happened? It’s an old story that many women in the industry will recognize: Her record company didn’t know what to do with her, and wanted her to tone down her act. Betty Davis wasn’t having any of that, thank you, and she hit the damn road.

She was born Betty Mabry in Durham, NC, in 1945. She grew up country, and was exposed to down-home, get-down music early. On the title track of her second album, They Say I’m Different, she runs down the artists who served as inspirations: Big Mama Thornton, John Lee Hooker, Lightnin’ Hopkins, Howlin’ Wolf, Albert King, Chuck Berry. The blues, in one form or another, is the backbone of her style.

Her family relocated to Pittsburgh when she was young, but at 16 she left home for the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York. There she was hurtled into the roiling cultural vortex of the Village. She took up modeling, working for the toney Wilhelmina agency, and began running with a posse of similarly disposed, equally beautiful women who called themselves the “Electric Ladies.” Sound familiar? One of her closest cohorts was Devon Wilson, for many years a notorious consort of Jimi Hendrix known for her freewheeling, outré sex- and drug-saturated lifestyle.

Mabry began to try her hand at singing, and cut a few self-penned singles. They were in an old-school mold in terms of structure, but her very first 45 hints at things to come. “Get Ready For Betty,” a 1964 track released by Don Costa (discoverer of Paul Anka and Trini Lopez and a key arranger for Frank Sinatra), is stodgy early-‘60s NYC R&B to its core, but its message is pointed: “Get out my way, girl, ‘cause I’m comin’ to take your man.”

She also made a stolid romantic duet ballad with singer Roy Arlington and, produced by cult soul man Lou Courtney, a homage to the Cellar, the New York club where she DJed. But she didn’t start reaching the upper echelon of the music biz until one of her songs, a hymn to Harlem called “Uptown,” was cut by the Chambers Brothers for their smash 1968 album The Time Has Come, which also included the psychedelic soul workout “Time Has Come Today.”

The Chambers association probably secured a singles deal for her at Columbia Records, and her first session for the major label was produced by her former live-in boyfriend, South African trumpeter Masekela, in October 1968. By that time, she had split with him: A month earlier, she had married a far more famous horn player, Miles Davis, whom she had met in 1967. Davis and his regular producer Teo Macero would head her second session for Columbia in May 1969.

Those two dates were released for the first time as The Columbia Years 1968-1969 earlier this month by Light in the Attic, the independent label that has restored Betty’s entire catalog to print over the last decade. While devoted fans can be grateful that the work is finally seeing the light of day, it does not make for easy listening, for it was clearly made by people groping in the dark.

Betty’s artistic persona was at that point completely unformed, and so her male Svengalis did their best to mold the clay in their hands, with feeble results. Masekela evidently completed just three tracks, two of which, “It’s My Life” and “Live, Love, Learn,” were issued as a flop single. The homiletic song titles give the game away; the music, straight-up commercial soul backed by a large group (which included Wilton Felder and Wayne Henderson of the Jazz Crusaders and Masekela), has nothing original to say.

The date with Miles is a bigger waste, if a more spectacular one. The personnel couldn’t have been more glittering: Hendrix sidemen Billy Cox and Mitch Mitchell; ex-Detroit Wheels guitarist Jim McCarty; bassist Harvey Brooks, studio familiar of Bob Dylan and former member of the Electric Flag; and Davis’ then-current or future band mates Herbie Hancock, Wayne Shorter, John McLaughlin, and Larry Young.

But nothing jells. The material is either weak (Betty’s directionless original “Hangin’ Out” is the best of a bad lot) or incongruous (lumbering covers of Cream’s “Politician” and Creedence’s “Born On the Bayou”). Worse, the jazzers are unable to lay down anything resembling a solid soul-rock foundation, and even reliable timekeeper Mitchell blows the groove on more than one occasion. Miles gets impatient with his spouse at one point, rasping over the talk-back, “Sing it just like that, with the gum in your mouth and all, bitch.”

Apparently intended as demos, the failed tracks were consigned to the tape library. By late ’69, Miles and Betty’s marriage was history. She left her mark on his music: She appeared on the cover of his cover of his 1968 album Filles de Kilimanjaro and inspired its extended track “Mademoiselle Mabry” (based on the chords that opens Hendrix’s “The Wind Cries Mary”) and “Back Seat Betty” from his 1981 comeback album The Man With the Horn.

Moreover, she moved him toward the flash style that would dominate his music through the mid-‘70s, by exposing him to the slamming music of Hendrix and Sly and exchanging his continental suits for psychedelic pimp togs. Would we know Bitches Brew, On the Corner, and Agharta without Betty Davis? Maybe, maybe not.

For her part, Betty remained in the wings for a while. She collaborated on demos for the Commodores; in London, she modeled, worked on songs for Marc Bolan of T. Rex, and declined a production offer from her then-paramour Clapton. Drifting back to New York, she met Santana percussionist Carabello. They became involved romantically, and in 1972 she relocated to the San Francisco Bay area, where Carabello’s local connections led to the formation of a stellar band to back her on a debut album.

One reads the credits for Betty Davis in awe. The rhythm section was the Family Stone’s dissident, puissant rhythm section, bassist Larry Graham and drummer Greg Errico (who also produced). Original Santana guitarist Neal Schon, future Mandrill axe man Doug Rodrigues, founding Graham Central Station organist Hershall Kennedy, and keyboardist and ace Jerry Garcia collaborator Merl Saunders filled out the instrumentation. The Pointer Sisters, Sylvester, and Kathi McDonald were among a large platoon of backup vocalists.

Issued in 1973 by Just Sunshine Records, an independent label owned by Woodstock Festival promoter Michael Lang (who also released a set by another unique woman, folk singer-guitarist Karen Dalton), Betty Davis was one hell of a coming-out party. Since her abortive Columbia dates, she had developed a unique vocal attack that could leap from a velvety croon to a Tina Turner-like shriek in a nanosecond. The stomping funk of the studio band backed her up to the hilt.

Like Turner, she was one Bold Soul Sister. The lust-filled opening invitation “If I’m in Luck I Might Get Picked Up” announces that a new game was afoot. The statement of romantic/sexual independence “Anti Love Song,” the lovers’ chess match “Your Man My Man,” and the self-explanatory “Game is My Middle Name” offer up a startling, hard-edged new model of a hard-funking female vocalist.

The album’s most affecting track may be “Steppin in Her I. Miller Shoes,” Davis’ level-headed elegy for her sybaritic friend Devon Wilson, who sailed out a window at the Chelsea Hotel in 1971. “She coulda been anything that she wanted…Instead she chose to be nothing,” Davis sings, implying that route wouldn’t be one she would take herself.

“If I’m in Luck” grazed the lower reaches of the R&B singles chart and the album failed to reach the LP rolls at all, but Davis was undaunted. For 1974’s They Say I’m Different, she took the producer’s reins, which she would hold for the rest of her career. While the backup lineup is less glitzy (though Saunders, Pete Escovedo, and Buddy Miles, on guitar no less, appear), the support is still sizzling; crackling drums and burbling clavinet put over a set of songs that may have been even stronger than those heard on her debut.

No one who hears “He Was a Big Freak” is likely to ever forget it; it’s a startling dissection of a masochistic relationship -- inspired by Jimi Hendrix, and not, as many have assumed, by Miles Davis (“Everyone knows that Miles is a sadist,” Betty remarked later). Almost as notable are “Don’t Call Her No Tramp,” a prescient condemnation of what we now call slut-shaming, and the autobiographical title track, with slicing slide guitar work by Cordell Dudley.

Different and its attendant singles tanked, but Betty managed to maintain her profile with live gigs noteworthy for their uninhibited bawdiness, on-stage abandon, and the star’s Egyptian-princess-from-outer-space wardrobe sense. By early 1974 she had assembled a hot, lean road band that included her cousins Nickey Neal and Larry Johnson on drums and bass, respectively, plus keyboardist Fred Mills and guitarist Carlos Morales. This lineup would back her on her last two albums.

The end of Just Sunshine’s distribution deal liberated Davis, who, at the suggestion of then-boyfriend Robert Palmer, inked with Palmer’s label Island Records. The company released Nasty Gal in 1975, and it may be Davis’ best-executed work. The pared-down backing lets the songs shine, and there are good ones here: The shameless title song, the vituperative blast at the critics “Dedicated to the Press,” and the out-front ultimatum for sexual satisfaction “Feelins” get right up in the listener’s face. The most surprising track is the ballad “You and I,” an unexpected songwriting reunion with Miles, orchestrated by the trumpeter’s famed arranger Gil Evans.

It’s a tremendous album, and Betty supported it with live shows that ate the funk competition alive. A bootleg of an especially out-there set recorded at a festival on the French Riviera in 1976 literally climaxes with Nasty Gal’s “The Lone Ranger,” an in-the-saddle heavy breather that Davis wraps up by feigning a loud orgasm.

One should remember that at this particular juncture, Madonna was studying dance at the University of Michigan.

But Nasty Gal faded with hardly a trace, and Davis’ relationship with Island swiftly became fractious. It’s easy to see why the label declined to issue her final album, originally called Crashin’ From Passion and ultimately released, after years as a bootleg, by Light in the Attic in 2009 as Is It Love or Desire. The collection, which leans heavily on songs about sex, doping, and heavy drinking, includes “Stars Starve, You Know,” an outright condemnation of the games record companies play:

They said if I wanted to make some money

I’d have to change my style

Put a paper bag over my face

Sing soft and wear tight fitting gowns

 They don’t like the way I’m lookin’

So it’s hard for my agent to get me bookin’s

Unless I cover up my legs and drop my pen

And commit one of those commercial sins…

 Oh hey hey Island

And that was all she wrote. Until writers began to seek her out in the new millennium as her records became available again, Betty Davis was an invisible woman, one who had blazed a trail that other talents, such as Prince and Madonna, would blaze more profitably after her. She was definitively ahead of her time.

Asked by one writer what she had done since leaving music, Davis, who turns 71 on July 26, responded with the most tragic thing one can imagine any artist saying: “Nothing really.”

[julio-claudian-saberface]

Some Other Women, Part II

Previous post, now with extra crackfic discussion and corpse disposal. Same disclaimers apply. 

Domitia Lepida (the elder): Caligula’s cousin, Nero’s paternal aunt. There’s a story that when she was bedridden, she told Nero that she wanted to stay alive long enough to see the coming-of-age ritual of his first shave. According to this story, Nero said he’d shave posthaste - and then poisoned her and took her stuff. 

In Fateverse, of course, Nero wasn’t going to have anything to shave up there but her eyebrows, so I wonder how it would have translated. That, and the arts festival that historical Nero threw when he did have his first shave. I’m picturing something with an obviously fake beard, Hatshepsut-style. 

Domitia Lepida (the younger): Caligula’s cousin, Nero’s paternal aunt, mother of Empress Messalina. She raised Nero once his father (her brother) died and Agrippina was exiled. After Agrippina’s return they came into conflict, not least over her influence on Nero. Apparently Lepida was the honey to Agrippina’s vinegar. But when Agrippina, now Empress, brought trumped-up capital charges, she got the teenage Nero to testify against her. Lepida was subsequently executed. 

Claudia Octavia: Daughter of Claudius and Messalina, Britannicus’s sister, Caligula’s first cousin (though far younger than him). Nero’s first cousin once removed, stepsister, and unloved first wife. She was a couple of years younger than Nero and their marriage was arranged some years after their parents’, when she was thirteen and Nero was fifteen. 

A bit over a year later, her father died and Nero became emperor. A few months after that, she witnessed Britannicus die of poison at a dinner party while Nero dismissed his death throes as an epileptic fit. 

(Also present, by the by: the future emperor Titus, who was Britannicus’s BFF or at least liked to say that he was in the years afterward, and also said that he had a sip from Britannicus’s cup and was deathly ill for a while)

(Also: The ever-virtuous Seneca wrote a nasty little RPF about her dead father called the Apocolocyntosis. You can find online translations of a work that historians are reasonably convinced is the same one. It trashes Claudius as a deformed mass murderer and Caligula’s whipping boy, and shamelessly sucks up to Nero)

By all accounts Octavia was an ideal virtuous Roman wife despite all this, with a lot of practice at holding her tongue and hiding her feelings, but Nero didn’t care for her and busily carried on affairs with first Claudia Acte, then Poppaea Sabina (see below). She was popular with the people, probably because of the ideal virtuous Roman wife thing. Seven years after becoming emperor Nero finally divorced her to marry Poppaea, leading to protest in the streets. Nero kept escalating, exiling her further and further away, accusing her first of being barren and then of committing adultery - first of doing it with a random slave, then with his admiral Anicetus (who had previously killed Agrippina for him, and who he paid off for his assassination and perjury with a cushy retirement of an “exile” in Sardinia). He threw in an accusation that she’d aborted an illegitimate child, never mind that he’d previously said she was barren. Her slaves were tortured to provide more “evidence,” but most of them refused to break. Eventually, on the encouragement of Poppaea, who was nervous at her popular support, the executioners came for her. 

By now Octavia was imprisoned on Pandateria, one of the go-to exile spots for women of the imperial family. Augustus’s daughter Julia had died there, and Caligula’s mother/Nero’s grandmother Agrippina the Elder, and Nero’s aunt Livilla. She begged to be allowed to live as not Nero’s wife but merely his sister, to no avail. It’s said they tried to bleed her to death, but she was so frightened the blood wouldn’t flow heavily enough (I have no idea about the biological veracity of this), so they suffocated her instead and brought back her head to show Poppaea. She was about twenty-two years old. 

Headcanon time: Britannicus took after Messalina in looks, and Octavia took after Claudius, so Claudius was far more certain she was his. Hence he eventually agreed to a marriage between his daughter and his “stepson,” with the understanding that they’d be engaging in the good old Roman custom of adoption. The seemingly more sensible measure of a marriage between Britannicus and a female Nero was dismissed because of his doubts about Britannicus’s paternity. 

Historically it’s speculated that Nero poisoned Britannicus so that Agrippina, who he was already quarreling with, couldn’t hold him over his head as a threat. But in Fateverse Everything Is Agrippina’s Fault, so she probably poisoned Britannicus too, to make sure he didn’t challenge Nero as he got older. Maybe he really did have epilepsy, and Nero didn’t take it seriously until it was too late - and maybe Octavia didn’t believe that she hadn’t known. 

And the slander? The murder? It can’t be blamed on Agrippina, who was dead for three years by then and in any case wanted him to stay with Octavia for political reasons. Shall we switch gears to Everything is Poppaea’s Fault? FGO Nero in Septem is from 60 AD, the year after Agrippina died, and the divorce/remarriage was in 62. Were the effects of Agrippina’s poison really kicking in at this point, leading to Nero’s paranoia ramping up? 

Claudia Acte: Nero’s first love, a freedwoman formerly owned by the Claudian clan and afterward under their patronage, indicated by receiving the name Claudia upon her manumission (headcanon: Nero met her because she was one of Octavia’s attendants). From her name, she might have been a performer of some kind (alternate headcanon: Nero noticed her after she played the role of Andromache in Seneca’s Trojan Women). Nero fell for her so hard that he sought to fake a genealogy that made her a long-lost princess of Pergamum, presumably so she would be a suitable wife. The relationship was a source of conflict between Nero and Agrippina, who presumably thought putting aside an emperor’s daughter to marry a former slave was the dumbest thing she’d ever heard of. As such it was encouraged by people like Seneca and Burrus, to lessen Agrippina’s influence. Some of Seneca and Nero’s friends helped run interference. One of them pretended that Acte was his mistress; Nero would slip him presents to pass on to her. There’s a story that Agrippina, desperate to recover her influence, starting trying to get incestuous with her son. Seneca nipped that in the bud by getting Acte, who herself was alarmed by this development, to go tell Nero to please don’t get down and dirty with your mother, it’s gross and the soldiers won’t like it. 

You would think she’d be cast in the role of the Grasping Gold-Digging Whore, but that wasn’t the case. The likes of Tacitus regarded her as far better than Poppaea -  to them, she was a nice inoffensive girl who knew her place and followed the instructions of good influences. Eventually even Christians began to claim she had been one of them. Why would Nero take so much to this Nice Inoffensive Girl and take so much against Octavia? Romantic chemistry is weird and unpredictable, and that he was never accused of being anywhere near the killing of any of Acte’s family probably helped their relationship. Maybe Acte, the common girl, was supportive of Nero’s artistic endeavors when Octavia, the proper Roman lady, wasn’t. 

Being all virtuous and noble doesn’t mean you can’t amass oodles of money, as Seneca can attest (in an age before mass production, he had five hundred identical fancy tables). Nero eventually moved on to Poppaea, but Acte did very well from the affair, and retained her wealth after it ended. There are inscriptions indicating that she owned multiple properties and funded a temple to Ceres (I hear things floating around the Internet about one of those inscriptions being a prayer for Nero to love her again, but haven’t seen any actual source). She would use that wealth after Nero’s death to fund his funeral, presiding with two of his old nurses. 

Poppaea Sabina: Nero’s second love and second wife. She was named after her mother, a famous beauty who was driven to suicide by the accusations of Messalina, and took after her in looks. She had red hair, which Nero rhapsodized about and compared to amber - “amber” hair dye became fashionable afterward. 

She was married three times. First was to a guy named Rufrius Crispinus, resulting in a son who Nero was accused of having drowned on a fishing trip after her death for supposedly having imperial pretensions (i.e. playing at being the emperor; he was still a kid). Second was to Otho, one of Nero’s buddies who’d helped him with the Acte thing. Third, Nero fell for her and packed Otho off to Lusitania (modern-day Portugal or thereabouts). 

All the potential nasty things they didn’t say about Acte? They said them about Poppaea. Josephus is the one historian I know of to have anything nice to say about her; according to him, she was a “God-fearing” woman who sympathized with the Jewish people and influenced Nero to go easy on them. There are claims that she pushed Nero to kill his mother so that he would be free to ditch Octavia and marry her - but, as noted, there was a three-year gap, so if that was the case Nero took his sweet time about it. Then there’s going to extravagant lengths to maintain her beauty i.e. milk baths a la Cleopatra, marrying Otho just so she could get close enough to grab Nero’s attention, and gloating over Octavia’s decapitated head.

She and Nero had a daughter, Claudia Augusta, who died at a few months old (infant mortality’s a bitch). She was pregnant again two years later, at the time of her death. Nero is the prime suspect, being accused of kicking her in the stomach or else jumping on it, possibly after an argument about his time at the chariot races. Modern historians are more inclined to think it was a miscarriage or childbirth complications; if it was childbirth, the child died with her. 

At any rate, Nero took her death hard, threw her a grand funeral, and had her declared a goddess. One of the Oxyrhynchus Papyri has a poem of uncertain vintage in which the deified Poppaea is greeted by Aphrodite and reluctantly whisked off to the heavens to be with her children. Later, Nero “took up” with Sporus (a very unfortunate young man who has a whole other sad story) because of his uncanny resemblance to her, and sometimes dressed him in women’s clothes and called him by her name. 

Headcanon: Nero, the admirer of Paris, decided she’d rather have a Helen than an Andromache. 

Unless Simon Magus had penis-attachment magic, baby Claudia Augusta and the unborn child would have been adopted in that good old Roman tradition. Who was the sperm donor? Otho, perhaps?

Nero would marry a third time, to Statilia Messalina (having her husband bumped off to do it), who survived his fall, was briefly engaged to Otho during his own bid for emperor, and apparently disappeared into obscurity afterward. 

---

Anyway, hope some of you were entertained by my rambling. 

[cxmetery-gates]

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS - DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON

CHAPTER ONE: FAKING IT

SUMMARY: Lynn Moore dreads the beginning of her greatest fear: the first day of senior year. WORD COUNT: 2.3k NOTE: Get ready for typical teenager angst. Let’s all bully Lynn. WARNINGS: dark!tom hiddleston, teacher!tom hiddleston

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS MASTERLIST

JUST LIKE EVERY YEAR AROUND the middle of August, my mom tells me the same advice; have a good first day. Of course, most mothers, fathers, or whoever tell their child this, but it's as pointless as a circle. Whoever has a fantastic first day of school? There are new teachers to impress, you're stuck with the same bunch of losers you sit with at lunch, and there are more jerks and morons to pick on you, despite the status quo you fall under. High school is frankly really awful all the way around and there's no way someone can deny or even try to argue that. These are the four years of utter hell and we're all dying to get out. I've stepped through those heavy doors, resembling the gates of hell, on a first day three times now. My anger and hatred have only been fueled rather than dying down. I'm sure nothing will ever change.

"Don't forget--" Mom tries to tell me from the porch in sweats and a maroon t-shirt. Her unnatural dirty blonde hair piled on the top of her head with an old red clip. There are tears welling in her eyes, seeing her only child almost grown up. I have one last year of school and mere months until I'm an adult. For me, it may pass by far too slow, but I bet it's a whole different story for her. In all honesty, it's ridiculous that the woman is so upset and not to mention annoying. I have done this routine twelve times now, for Christ sake, she should get a grip on herself by now. I don't mean to belittle my mother but one of her greatest achievements is being able to replicate every single stereotype women have, including having no control over her emotions. An outsider looking in may say I'm a bit to harsh. All I can say to that is no one has loved with her for almost eighteen years like I have.

"I got it!" I yell against the wind as it smacks my face while I walk across the grass. "Christ on a bike," I curse tossing my messy light brown hair from my field of vision.

The bus would take another five minutes to get the corner, but I'd like to not look stupid on my first day by running to catch up with the metal rectangle of devilry Peter Parker style. Well, maybe it would turn into an interesting story at the least. Spiderman is my favorite superhero of all time after all. Despite this, I only allow an angry face to part my path. It's totally fake but faking it is the only way to survive.

Down at the intersection, there are already kids waiting. I think it's safe to assume that all of the puberty-sicken teenagers are freshmen or sophomores since most junior and seniors are still asleep at this early hour, knowing the good majority are able to drive. I take a good look at all of them. The fact that they find throwing bits of gravel at squirrels or birds makes me want to go over and smack them upside the head. That thought crosses my mind a lot. The world is so full of morons; it's hard to pick out which ones are actually tolerable. They're almost as bad as kids in letterman jackets with expensive sports cars. Those fuckers are the worst. All they care about is their ego and how much money they can wave around coming right from mommy and daddy's wallet.

Take the kid in the striped shirt tucked into his hand-me-down jeans. He looks like a nice kid; after all, he's got nothing to brag about. His parents are probably office workers or maybe nothing too difficult. Nothing too important. That's all we are, right? I mean, once we're dead and gone. No one is gonna care what car you drove or what brand your plain white shirt is. People who think they're hotshots or something special are the real morons.

Besides, who thinks it's cool to spend thirty bucks on a t-shirt?

An old car passes, a teenage girl in my grade sits in the driver's seat. I sort of duck out of the way. Not James Bond-like, but I move my already shitty hair in front of my face as if it's going to help hide my identity. The chick probably didn't even see me. I watch the car drive on, kinda imagining what sort of car I would drive once I get one. I suppose I would have to learn first. I personally am not a fan of getting behind the wheel. Hell, I can't even ride a bike without falling over. I'd rather move to a large city and order cabs to get me places. They seem more convenient and, if you get in a wreck, it's not your fault and it's not your money coming out of pocket. No car equals more money. Then again, no car also is equivalent to no freedom and taxis and Uber's can get expensive. It seems like each idea is flawed these days.

Upon scanning the area again— this time ignoring the idiots— I notice only one person who seems excited out of the group. Her dark brown hair and dark skin contrast to the majority of our town, including those waiting nearby. Her curled hair bounces with each stride she takes, happier than the step prior.

Some say it's strange that the girl and I are such good friends. You don't see God and Satan going out and having coffee every weekend or anything.

"What's got you in a good mood?" I question as I readjust my dark blue shirt underneath the flannel. Flannels are my favorite personal quirk. I own at least fifty, most being cool or dark colors. I don't have an obsession; just an interest that I care way too much about. Flannels are to Lynn Moore as controversy is to famous influencers. Looking back up, my eyebrow is still raised. I'm shocked to see her here, assuming her parents would have given her a lift. After a second, it dawned on me that this, riding the bus to school, was her punishment for getting into an accident she won't take responsibility for.

Posting memes and vines references are fun and all, but doing it while going 60 down a highway isn't the smartest. Forgive me for not following the strict millennial handbook but I don't actually want to die nor do I want my friends to.

My best friend, Ellie Graves, gives a small glare. "Why does it always seem like you're on your period?" I shrug my shoulders, and played with the wire choker I always wore. As my fingers slip underneath the necklace, it is evident how to lose it has gotten since I bought it a few months ago. I make a mental note to take a quick trip to the shopping side of the internet sometime soon.

I click my tongue before answering. "Probably because I'm closer to hell than you are," I say, referring to my obvious lack of height. I'm only five feet and just barely three inches off the ground while Ellie is at least five feet and seven inches. Personally I think we would make a cute couple given our attitudes and the extremities of our heights, except for the fact that dearest Ellie is not interested in people other than men. What a party pooper. For me, anyway. "But lets do our best to not reinforce stereotypes," I say referring to her comment.

She nods her head. "Yes, mother." I snort at her sass, leaning my body weight onto my right leg. "But hey! We have one year left! That's something to be excited about, am I right?"

Yes, I would say she is right. Freshmen, sophomore, and the dragged out junior year have come and passed, full of useless information and embarrassing memories with it. It's mostly embarrassing if I have to be honest. School isn't my thing, however falling up and down the main set of stairs apparently is. Who knew?

"Yeah, I suppose so. At least we're considered adults now," I reply trying to find some positive about the situation.

Ellie begins to lightly laugh, "True. That's kinda a scary thought, though." Her body shudders, either because a breeze just blew passed or out of what she just said.

The age of freedom is so close, I can nearly touch it. Despite my longing to finally buy a lottery ticket and spray paint, the fear of adulthood gnaws at the back of my mind. With eighteen comes responsibility, something I lack to a high degree. I muse the idea of getting a degree of irresponsibility. However, I don't think such diploma could help me get into a creative writing career.

I make a thinking face and bring my shoulders to my ears preparing for an exaggerated response. "Well, you aren't wrong," I reply in a forced high pitch noise, catching the attention of the guys. Now I notice they are all matching in basketball shorts and a jacket. Men's fashion, ladies and gents. Ellie chuckles at my utter dorkiness while I continue to make some weird face I'm sure she will get a picture of sometime within the next few seconds.

It's crazy how time is able to fly. Just last week, so it seems, the outgoing, beaming chick I have as a best friend and I were in third grade, the year I moved to a new house, a different school, and a very different town. Although my eight-year-old-self hated it at the time, I'm glad I left the northern state of Maine, all the way across to the midwest. That is if you consider southern Missouri part of the midwest. If I hadn't, who would have the privilege of being my first smack in the face? Or first sleepover (with an actual girl)? Who knows, and I honestly wouldn't like to. Ellie's my best friend; I would be dead if she didn't have my back. And I'm honestly positive she would say the same about her tiny best pal.

Little time passes after the picture was indeed taken and posted on Elle's Snapchat before an ugly shade of yellowish-orange appears entering the neighborhood. Ellie is practically fidgeting, fighting the urge to run up the bus even if it is some distance away. My eyes roll trying to not say anything to kill her spirit but I do let out an accidental groan as its loud hum draws nearer. The bus came to a screeching halt and I already want to turn on my heel and head home. When I step on, I notice there is a new driver this year. After Ellie got her license and could legally drive me around, I never bothered with the bus unless I needed space or she was busy, which was hardly ever. Ellie and I mostly spend our time together with our group of friends. Despite this, I still easily took notice of a different person in the seat. Instead of a balding old man with a face like alligator skin, a woman sat in the brown leather seat and looks roughly in her forties. She, like all of us except for Ellie, looks tired but fakes a smile anyways. The same rules apply; middle school and junior high in the front and high school in the back. It seems as if sitting in the back always made you cool of some sort. Every time a kid got away with it in middle school, he or she was automatically the bad kid, the cool kid, or the king of the bus. God, how stupid is that theory? These thoughts remind me how annoying and stupid we all were at ten and eleven years old. I'm sure if I had a duplicate of myself at that age, I'd shoot either one of us to cease me from the utter pain.

Instead of going all the way to the back, I turn to sit in the seat half way down the aisle while plunging in an earbud, leaving one open to listen to Ellie. I instantly scroll through an select a playlist that mixes rock, punk, and even some emo. Given today being my last first day, I figured early morning jams would be appropriate to get me pumped up even though I tend to listen to this genre quite often as of lately. I enjoy the heavy guitar and double bass pedal and lyrics I can either relate to or wonder who hurt the singer so bad. Needless to say, I'm definitely more of a rock person however there's still a lot of other types of music on my device, including orchestra and folk or indie. I don't like to limit what I listen to; whatever makes me feel good ends up on my phone. Simple as that.

"So, Lynn," Ellie says sliding in right next to me. I look in her direction, which was to my right, waiting for her to respond. She looks at me, but nothing came out of her mouth. Slowly, I arch a brow. Still, there was nothing. "I had nothing to say, I just wanted your attention." Ellie gave a stupid grin while I glare kindly at her if there is such a thing.

My head shakes and I reach out to pat her cheek, "You, my darling, are an absolute dumbass."

I feel her grin grow against my hand since I haven't moved it yet. "Not as big as you, though." I can't argue; she has a point.

As the bus lunches forwards, I look out the window and watch the world go by. Something settles in my gut about then, the feeling both familiar and foreign. I can't tell what it is, but as I watch the clouds roll in over the sun and birds flying through the sky, I only hope my last year of high school will be memorable.

[citrusityy]

Pride & Prejudice - Chapter 6 Darcy Dancing? (No.)

Catherine reads through an annotated chapter of Pride & Prejudice and shares her thoughts with the interweb every week until it’s done. Or until she gets sick of Jane Austen. Whichever comes first. This week : Chapter 6.

“There is nothing like dancing after all. - I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished societies.”

Last week, we unpacked what I hope to be the final aftermath chapter of the party. Today, the chapter opens with Bingley’s sisters returning the Bennets’ visit and beginning to form some thoughts on them.

The manners of a Ms Bennet (no idea which one) prove pleasant enough, but the sisters find Mrs Bennet intolerable and her youngest children unworthy of their attention. Jane and Elizabeth are the exceptions to this, and react to it differently. For Jane, the positive attention due to her blossoming love with Mr Bingley is welcome, but for Elizabeth, she feels his sisters are just being condescending to everyone, which is interesting considering they’re all in the upper class. Shows you can never have it all, I suppose.

Though Jane and Mr Bingley’s love has grown only in little glances and dances at parties in the last few weeks, Charlotte urges her to make her love for him obvious (good move) otherwise she “may lose the opportunity of fixing him” (hmm…) as men need a woman’s help to properly fall in love, though Eliza does counter this with the assertion that they “must be a simpleton indeed” if they can’t discover any of their own feelings without the help of a good woman.

Eliza goes on to criticise Charlotte’s theories on love for being centred purely on the pursuit of marriage, especially the pursuit of marriage to a rich man. It’s here that I question who exactly is Austen’s mouthpiece in the story. Lizzy? Jane? Certainly not Charlotte in any case. I must say I found admirable too see her deconstruct the core themes of the book - love, the pursuit of marriage and whether romance has any role in it for the upper classes. Not to mention pride and prejudice, of course.

It’s clear that these women have little else to be doing in their positions in society, as there is an in-depth analysis over the quality and quantity of time their sister Jane has spent with Bingley, and what she may have learnt from it. Including : his appetite, their mutual opinions on Vingt-un over Commerce (which I’m inferring is a kind of drink, possibly wine?) and whether she would be happier married to him on that day or after “a twelvemonth” of courting. It’s apparently “a matter of chance” and completely unrelated to the compatibility of their respective personalities and willingness to push and pull over mutual issues.

Spending all her time pouring over her sister’s love life, Lizzy fails to notice Mr Darcy’s blossoming tolerance of her; from “scarcely allowed” to be pretty, to being caught by the “easy playfulness” of her manners, showing a progression from observing the superficial to her personal qualities. As far as Lizzy is unaware (and I feel now is the perfect moment to remind you that Lizzy, or ‘Eliza’, is Elizabeth Bennet - second-oldest at around twenty years of the Bennet sisters - just in case you had lost track.), Darcy is in every way the man who rudely refused to dance with her, which is honestly still quite an accurate assessment of him. But familiarity with Lizzy is breeding intrigue for him, rather than contempt, in the back of his mind, (probably) stricken with severe social anxiety as it is. 

Will Austen follow up on this soon? Well, there’s another 60-something chapters to fill, so I wouldn’t hold my breath over her rushing what appears to be the central plot thread if I were you.

We move to a fleeting anecdote of a subsequent party, utterly wrecking my party:aftermath chapter ratio, where Darcy follows up on his matured interest in Lizzy by... standing around and listening in to her conversations with others. To the surprise of everyone (read : NO-ONE), being exposed to so much of his “satirical eye” simply makes Lizzy feel uncomfortable and like she has to be “impertinent” with him or fear him. Take notes ladies, gentlemen and all other dignified people, this man has such a good way with the ladies.

To defend her poor friend from Mr Darcy’s presumed barbs, one of the Ms Lucases (I’m assuming the 27-year-old, but I could be wrong) nudges her to displays her modest singing talent for the amusement of the party as she plays some undetermined instrument. Probably a flute. She is then swiftly overshadowed by her emphatically mediocre sister Mary, who is more than happy to “purchase” their praise. Transactional lexis here makes me draw conclusions of the nature of these balls. Very ‘something for something’ it seems.

And then everyone danced.

Except for Mr Darcy, I think. When asked by Sir William to join them as a compliment to the place (their manners have reached the point of flattering inanimate objects through the medium of mirthful movement). In any case, he does not desire to do this for any building if he can help it, so at least he’s non-discriminatory in his social withdrawal.

Unperturbed by this, William tries to turn the conversation toward the subject of his total insecurity with his social status via the medium of home ownership, to no avail. In order to keep things moving, Austen plonks Lizzy next to Darcy at the sidelines of the party and the good Sir tries to get what he presumes to be kindred spirits together. Lizzy is not interested, but Darcy demonstrates some character development by offering her a dance “with grave propriety” like the eligible bachelor he is. She refuses. For a couple of paragraphs.

When she walks back out of the chapter, Darcy confesses his blossoming interest in the girl who quite clearly dislikes him to Bingley’s unmarried sister. Not sure if she’s the best person to be confiding in, but maybe my opinion of her is just tainted by my alignment with good old Lizzy.

Nonetheless, the chapter ends (as does my backlog of chapters I’ve actually read through - ulp) with her barraging our favourite introvert with questions. You'd think she’d be used to him and his ways by now.

Thoughts

Need to get ahead on these, not finish them at midnight

Darcy goes from aloof to smitten

Still sardonic

I want to see a bit of the world outside of the ballroom, but I think I’m reading the wrong book for it

So much happened in this chapter, barely kept up

If you liked what you read : tell me, tell a friend, tell Fred down the road. Maybe grab a copy from World of Books or something. Quite a few to choose from. If you didn’t like it, let me know that too. I’m not in this for validation or anything, and want to hone my utterly rudderless critical direction. Come back next week for Chapter 7, where we take a step into the unknown together. Probably another party.

[xxcureangelxx]

5, 9, 10, 13, 20, 21, 24, 25, 28, 30-35, 38-42, 44-46, 50, 52, 54, 60-62, 66, 71-74, 86-91, 96, 100! 😊

okay I literally have no clue how old this is and if I'm even taking the questions from the right post but here goes I guess? 🙈

<u>5. What is your favorite Color?</u>

PURPLE

<u>9. How tall are you?</u>

about 1,70 meters or 5'7"

<u>10. What shoe size are you?</u>

size 40-41, I think that's about 8 in US sizes?

<u>13. What talents do you have?</u>

uhhh good question... not sure if it counts but I guess I'm quite good at a lot if things but can't do anything extraordinarily well?

<u>20. Are you religious?</u>

Absolutely not. Due to family history and a lot of other things I'm actually against it a lot but people can do whatever they feel like is right for them as long as they don't harm others with it.

<u>21. Have you ever been to the hospital?</u>

Yes, quite a lot actually. practically grew up in hospitals as a baby because of kidney issues, broke both my legs with 4 years old, had to revisit for tests a lot during my childhood because of the kidney issue. it calmed down afterwards until I was back in hospital last year because of my terrible mental health and I'm currently in a rehabilitation clinic for it as well.

<u>24. Baths or showers?</u>

Shower's because we don't have a bathtub

<u>25. What color socks are you wearing?</u>

currently none, I love going barefoot, but usually I wear white, gray or black. I know... I'm a bad gay.. no rainbow socks (;ŏ﹏ŏ)

<u>28. What type of music do you like?</u>

you know.... I hate this question with a passion even though I love music so I'll just throw in my yt-playlist here and everyone who's interested can look through it to get a picture xD not sorted in any way and not a conclusive list at all, I just add songs as I find them

<u>30. How many pillows do you sleep with?</u>

mostly just one at a time but I've got two different ones. one is the normal fluffy kinda pillow, the other is made of some kinda foam material and rather thin.

<u>31. What position do you usually sleep in?</u>

I'm always lying on the side! have been doing that since I was a baby too.

<u>32. How big is your house?</u>

compared to what? 🙈 I'd say decent size for 5 people to live in, would have space for 1-2 more if rooms were used differently but definitely not enough to comfortably live with 12 or even more people like my family used to. we've got like 3 proper sleeping rooms (one of which is the attic so not very nice in terms of heat and the staircase is smack in the middle of the room), a kitchen, a dining room, a big living room, a tiny bathroom that barely fits a toilet and shower, and the basement is a mix of storage, electrics and stuff, washing room/utility room and it's got another smaller room that's been turned back into a small workshop but used to be the room of my brother and later my grandmother.

<u>33. What do you typically have for breakfast?</u>

I guess this is where it shows that I'm german but we usually just eat bread (preferably whole grain) with cheese or slices of salami or ..meat sausage? is that a proper translation? 🤨 idk... it's rather simple really. on the weekend maybe buns and boiled eggs. on the occasion that I'm too tired for it or don't have enough time I eat cereals but it's not very common when I'm at work/school

<u>34. Have you ever fired a gun?</u>

No, and I don't want to

<u>35. Have you ever tried archery?</u>

Yes!! I did last year when I was in the hospital and it was super fun! was quite good at it as well, even for my first try 😤

<u>38. What's the longest you've ever gone without sleep?</u>

I think about 3 days? if we count "barely unconscious for a few hours" as sleep that is... otherwise no clue...my memory of the bad sleepless time is quite hazy lol

<u>39. Do you have any scars?</u>

yeah, quite a few tbh. got 2 huge ones from surgeries due to my kidney issues, well they look like 2 but it's actually multiple ones since they simply cut open party of the old ones again, tiny hooman apparently have very little skin. then I got some other ones here and there from accidents, general dumbness, etc, like when I cut through my sunday morning bun and almost cut half of the tip of my finger off because my mother sharpened the knife and didn't tell me or that time as a kid I couldn't wait for my ironing pearl pictures to be done and burned myself on the hot iron, mostly stuff like that.

<u>40. Have you ever had a secret admirer?</u>

I mean.. if they're a secret... how would I know? ;) not sure if it counts that it took me months to realize I had a crush on my best friend and the feelings were reciprocated and I was too blind to see the signs?

<u>41. Are you a good liar?</u>

Nope. People actually think I'm lying more often than I lie... so.... :/

<u>42. Are you a good judge of character?</u>

I'm.. honestly not sure what this one means? like, am I able to judge what kind of character a person has after barely meeting them or smth? if so, I'm terrible at it

<u>44. Do you have a strong accent?</u>

in german? nope. in english? hmm hard to judge since I rarely hear myself speak. I think the stuff I do know how to pronounce is mostly okay but since I learned it through reading I'm simply unsure of a lot of pronunciations. 'also'.... I can not for the life of me pronouns that word no matter how many times I hear it... it's kinda become a quirk after some classmates pointed it out to me and I'm incredibly aware how terrible I say the word but.... just can't get rid of it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

<u>45. What is your favorite accent?</u>

I.. actually really love the way my best friend talks? 👉👈 they're french btw. just... typical me for struggling to understand them though, already terrible at it in german too...

<u>46. What is your personality type?</u>

honestly, I don't think I can answer that. I'm big on self loathing and everything's pretty shitty so, no thanks

<u>50. Left or right handed?</u>

Right handed. but does it even count id I'm bad at doing things with that hand too? lol

<u>52. Favorite food?</u>

hmmmm tough question... not the biggest fan of food in general a lot of the time... probably Züricher Geschnetzeltes

<u>54. Are you a clean or a messy person?</u>

Definitely messy. my allergies did not like this post trying to clean and tidy up more often though. my depression does not like this post either

<u>60. Do you talk to yourself?</u>

sometimes. quite a bit when watching movies or if I mess stuff up

<u>61. Do you sing to yourself?</u>

barely. got a lot of bad experiences with that so i keep my singing to a minimum. my shower is a great listener though

<u>62. Are you a good singer?</u>

I was in a choir for a few years when I went to 'middle school' and I had like one solo part once but other than that I can't really say because I barely ever sing in front of people

<u>66. Do you like long or shor hair?</u>

this question is currently my absolute nemesis.. I've got suuuper duper long hair and have had it ever since elementary school and I used to be super happy with it and sometimes I still am happy with it but other days, depending on where I'm at genderwise, I absolutely hate it and I just want to take the closest scissors and cut it all off... currently haven't had the guts to look for new hair styles though... but in other people? or women more specifically? I love long hair 🥺

<u>71. What makes you nervous?</u>

Or the shorter question: what doesn't make me nervous... I'd say pretty much everything has got the potential to make me nervous. I'm an overthinker, anxiety is a big thing for me and ptsd makes me scared of almost everything. so.. yeah... sucks to be me sometimes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

<u>72. Are you scared of the dark?</u>

Yes, very

<u>73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes?</u>

I try not to but sadly I sometimes do, even if it's not my place to. I really don't like that part and hope I'll be able to learn not to sometime

<u>74. Are you ticklish?</u>

Yes and I hate it 😭

<u>86. What are you allergic to?</u>

again, easier question: what am I not allergic to... it's... a lot... like, really a lot. with the test on the skin of my arm I reacted to every single substance and the more thorough blood test lead to much of the same result. the absolute worst are birch trees (pitty, love those), then the usual pollen of pretty much every tree or flower, all animals with fur or feathers, dust and... yeah list goes on and on, you get the picture... :/

<u>87. Do you keep a journal?</u>

no.. have tried to multiple times in the past but never made it more than a week... too depressing to write and read... the therapist at the rehab clinic is currently forcing me to try a positivity diary for the millionths time, can't even get that done each day even though I'm doing it on my phone and get notifications to do it each evening...

<u>88. What do your parents do?</u>

making my life hell lol.. okay on a serious note, my father was a car electrician, he's retired by now, my mother is a housewife, she used to work different jobs before her first kid, later on she took care of my grandmother who was suffering from dementia, got some money and retirement points for that too.

<u>89. Do you like your age?</u>

I-... I don't know? it's weird because I both feel a lot younger and a lot older than I am rn....

<u>90. What makes you angry?</u>

another tough question... I actually have anger issues in that way that I'm barely capable of feeling anger... used to be worse but I already worked a lot on it in therapy so there's at least some there now... in the past I simply started to cry and felt overwhelmed by sadness whenever I was supposed to feel anger... so I can't tell very well what makes me angry because I first have to realize that I'm feeling anger or more like should be feeling it....

<u>91. Do you like your own name?</u>

Not really, no, but I guess I finally figured out some reasons why.. I've recently started going by a bit of a different name too but only my closest friends know so far and I'm not sure if I'll be using it irl at all..

<u>96. How did you get your name?</u>

I'm still trying to get my mother to admit that she named me after this song but she keeps denying it.. she's a fan of this band so it would have fit.. but she keeps saying she just liked the name, no long thought process behind it..

my chosen name is a bit of a different story. an ex friend I got to know through yt gave me that nickname almost 10 years ago after I complained that you can't make a shorter nickname out of my birthname and it's also the name of s character I like, especially his voice, and... idk it just feels more gender neutral and I simply feel comfortable with it. it just fit.

<u>100. Color of your room?</u>

same as question 5: Purple 🥰 or... well half the walls are purple, the other half is white

phew... can't believe I made it through all of these....

in case people haven't noticed yet, I'm currently kinda getting back into tumblr? I think I've already stayed a lot longer than any times I tried getting back before. it mostly started because we've got super bad wifi at the clinc I'm at rn and reddit takes up waaayy too much mobile data and... idk, I guess I just missed the vibe of tumblr

I'm not sure how long I'll be able to stick around but we'll see