#armchair music critic

[electrificata]

having music critic thots abt the weeknd im so so sorry

i saw the weeknd in concert last summer, it was amazing. i really dont like stadium shows usually, but his was killer, he had a cool stage concept (gently mad max-ish cult leader and his dancer-disciples, giant inflatable moon) and he's got the presence to fill up all that space. and ive been listening to him for almost a decade, obviously the music's there. actually the show i was at was where he debuted the trailer for the idol. its out now and i havent watched yet. i thought it looked cool then, but after everything ive heard.....im just really ambivalent.

in the early days, when he was keeping mysterious, no press, no photos, you didnt even know if the weeknd was a band or a guy. just this chilly, atmospheric, sleazy/sexy horror-movie r&b. nothing supernatural. but cruel. the lyrics were all about the worst kind of fuckboy shit, and obviously drugs, and the music really seemed to give proper weight to it. the speaker in the songs was awful, the music was telling you that his actions were violent and terrifying for the women he's hurting and for toxic for himself. if youre a person attracted to men, you know what its like to see how awful a guy can be and still be into him, maybe even BECAUSE of how awful he is. thats a fucking horror movie. those first xo eps are crazy, i still listen to them.

then he goes pop star. i remember the collab w/ ariana grande in 2014 was surprising but it found a perfect, plausible midpoint between their two universes. then he goes full max martin in 2015 with "can't feel my face" and again, bizarre to see this plausible way for the prince of darkness to get to the top 40 via a neo-michael jackson jam with a veiled drug reference as opposed to multiple explicit ones. but it made sense! he danced onstage now! i remember hearing it on the radio when i was picking my cousins up from middle school, that felt surreal.

and he just kept on doing the popstar thing. i dont think the sleaze ever really left, it just receded into the background. killer atmosphere, more pop hooks, a general darkness that felt credible coming from him because of the early stuff, its just lit with neon now. he gets increasingly more conceptual, which i love. i love a concept album. its still about fucked up relationships and now death more generally instead of drugs specifically. cool, great. i've been with him the entire time. that brings us up more-or-less to the present.

im not gonna recap all the shit around the idol, if you want it im sure theres an article or youtube video thatll do a better job than i can. ill just summarize my own thoughts: it feels like the sleaze is back, maybe some of the horror, but also Glamour. johnny depp's supermodel daughter has cum on her face. we're seeing headlines about how gross the sex scenes are. look how Glamorous this is. classic showbiz trick of using a cautionary tale about gross men preying on women to just....create images and narratives about gross men preying on women. this might be the place i cant follow him. i cant rule out watching it, i am a habitual hater and i might be in the mood to hate soon. but its making me think about the way we use glamour and beauty in entertainment. it cant be a default, it has an effect on the story.

[pearlprincess02]

academia sign as 𝔞𝔠𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔦𝔞 𝔞𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔠𝔰

academia (829)

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔠 𝔞𝔠𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔦𝔞

aries / 1st house academia: aries in academia approaches learning with enthusiasm and a pioneering spirit. they thrive in competitive environments, enjoying subjects that allow them to take the lead, such as sports science, entrepreneurship, or anything requiring bold, innovative thinking. their learning style is hands-on and action-oriented, preferring to dive into projects rather than sit through lectures. quick to grasp new concepts, aries students excel in fast-paced, dynamic settings where they can showcase their initiative and drive. they are natural leaders in group work, often inspiring others with their energy and passion.

chaotic academia vibes: red bull, coffee, late-night study sessions, messy desk, sticky notes everywhere, highlighters galore, backpack overflowing, headphones tangled, running late, cramming, competitive studying, impulsive learning, last-minute cramming, energetic study sessions, motivational posters, pomodoro technique, study groups, mind maps, flash cards, music playlists

major & minor in college: history, english, psychology, theater, business, creative writing, philosophy, computer science, art history, sociology

𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔨 𝔞𝔠𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔦𝔞

taurus / 2nd house academia: taurus in academia is methodical and steady, approaching learning with patience and determination. they excel in subjects that involve tangible results or a connection to nature, such as agriculture, culinary arts, or finance. taurus students prefer a structured learning environment, where they can take their time to absorb information deeply and thoroughly. they have a strong memory and excel in retaining facts, often mastering subjects through repetition and consistent effort. their learning style is practical and grounded, focusing on real-world applications and long-term value.

dark academia vibes: leather-bound notebooks, vintage fountain pen, cozy sweater, warm coffee, comfortable armchair, candles, classical music, antique bookshelves, quiet library, natural light, slow & steady approach, consistent studying, structured routine, mindful studying, note-taking, reading extensively, researching deeply, essay writing, critical thinking, patience & perseverance,

major & minor in college: literature, history, art history, philosophy, classical studies, music, latin, greek, anthropology, environmental studies,

scorpio / 8th house academia: scorpio in academia is intensely focused and driven, diving deep into subjects that fascinate them, especially those involving psychology, criminology, or anything that uncovers hidden truths. they are natural researchers, drawn to mysteries and complexities, excelling in environments that require investigative skills and critical thinking. scorpio students prefer to study in private, where they can immerse themselves fully without distractions. they have a talent for uncovering details that others might overlook, and their determination to master a subject is unmatched. passionate and resilient, scorpio learners often emerge as experts in their chosen fields.

dark academia vibes: black coffee, leather jacket, intricate jewelry, vintage records, haunted library, gothic architecture, mysterious aura, intense gaze, quiet solitude, deep thoughts, intense focus, deep research, analytical thinking, critical analysis, debating, persuasive writing, problem-solving, independent study, night owl, passionate learning,

major & minor in college: psychology, philosophy, criminal justice, history, political science, sociology, anthropology, mythology, astronomy, creative writing,

𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔠𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔦𝔞

gemini / 3rd house academia: gemini in academia is curious and versatile, thriving in environments where they can explore a wide range of subjects. they are natural communicators, excelling in fields like journalism, linguistics, or social sciences, where their quick wit and love for information can shine. gemini students prefer a dynamic, interactive learning environment, enjoying discussions, debates, and collaborative projects. their learning style is fast-paced and adaptable, allowing them to pick up new concepts with ease and shift focus between topics effortlessly. always eager to learn something new, gemini keeps their mind sharp by continuously seeking knowledge in various fields.

theatre academia vibes: script book, makeup bag, costumes, props, rehearsal space, stage lights, backstage passes, playbills, acting classes, impromptu performances, versatility, adaptability, improvisation, memorization, public speaking, character analysis, script analysis, ensemble work, storytelling, critical thinking

major & minor in college: theater, english, creative writing, communication studies, film studies, music, dance, history, psychology, sociology,

𝔠𝔬𝔷𝔶 𝔞𝔠𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔦𝔞

cancer / 4th house academia: cancer in academia is intuitive and emotionally connected to their studies, often drawn to subjects that resonate with their personal experiences, such as history, literature, or psychology. they excel in environments that feel nurturing and supportive, preferring to learn in a space where they feel safe and comfortable. cancer students have a strong memory, especially for details that evoke an emotional response, and they often approach learning with empathy and care. their learning style is reflective and deep, focusing on understanding the emotional and human aspects of any subject. sensitive to the needs of others, cancer can also be a compassionate and supportive peer in group settings.

cozy academia vibes: knitting needles, teacup, soft blanket, candles, cozy armchair, bookshelf filled with sentimental books, family photos, journal, soft music, homemade snacks, emotional intelligence, empathy, nurturing oneself, creating a comfortable study space, mindful studying, journaling, connecting with others, supporting others, patience & perseverance, emotional regulation

major & minor in college: english, history, psychology, sociology, social work, counseling, child development, family studies, art history, creative writing

𝔯𝔬𝔶𝔞𝔩 𝔞𝔠𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔦𝔞

leo / 5th house academia: leo in academia is confident and expressive, thriving in subjects where they can showcase their creativity and leadership, such as performing arts, literature, or leadership studies. they enjoy being at the center of discussions and excel in environments where their ideas and talents are recognized. leo students are passionate learners who bring enthusiasm to their studies, often inspiring others with their energy and charisma. their learning style is dynamic and interactive, preferring presentations and group projects where they can shine. with a natural flair for storytelling and self-expression, leo often excels in areas that allow them to be both creative and influential.

royal academia vibes: crown-shaped stationery, velvet robes, gold jewelry, vintage fountain pen, grand library, ornate furniture, elegant calligraphy, classical music, high-quality textbooks, personalized study supplies, confidence, leadership, public speaking, motivation, goal setting, networking, presentation skills, time management, creativity, passion

major & minor in college: history, political science, business, theater, art history, music, philosophy, classical studies, public relations, creative writing

𝔟𝔬𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩 𝔞𝔠𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔦𝔞

virgo / 6th house academia: virgo in academia is analytical and detail-oriented, excelling in subjects that require precision and critical thinking, such as mathematics, science, or technical writing. they have a strong work ethic and prefer structured learning environments where they can methodically work through complex problems. virgo students are diligent researchers, often going above and beyond to ensure they fully understand a topic, and they have a knack for organizing information logically. their learning style is meticulous and focused, thriving on clear instructions and practical applications. with a keen eye for detail, virgo often excels in areas that demand accuracy and thoroughness.

botanical academia vibes: herbarium, plant journal, botanical prints, terrarium, gardening tools, natural light, plant-based stationery, herbal tea, nature-inspired décor, organized study space, organization, planning, time management, detail-oriented approach, note-taking, researching, problem-solving, critical thinking, patience, perseverance

major & minor in college: biology, environmental science, botany, horticulture, chemistry, agriculture, nutrition, health sciences, art history, creative writing

𝔯𝔬𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔠 𝔞𝔠𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔦𝔞

libra / 7th house academia: libra in academia is balanced and diplomatic, drawn to subjects that involve relationships, aesthetics, and justice, such as law, art, or social sciences. they excel in collaborative learning environments, enjoying discussions and group projects where they can exchange ideas and mediate differing opinions. libra students have a natural talent for seeing multiple perspectives, which makes them excellent at analyzing complex issues and finding harmonious solutions. their learning style is interactive and social, thriving in settings that allow for cooperation and mutual respect. with a strong sense of fairness and a love for beauty, libra often excels in areas that combine intellectual rigor with creativity.

romantic academia vibes: love letters, poetry collection, vintage jewelry, soft/pastel colors, romantic novels, flower arrangements, classical music, art galleries, beautiful stationery, cozy cafes, collaboration, harmony, diplomacy, balance, aesthetic appreciation, empathy, persuasion, critical thinking, creativity, open-mindedness

major & minor in college: english, history, art history, philosophy, psychology, sociology, communication studies, music, creative writing, design

𝔞𝔡𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔞𝔠𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔦𝔞

sagittarius / 9th house academia: sagittarius in academia is adventurous and curious, drawn to subjects that expand their horizons, such as philosophy, travel, or global studies. they thrive in environments that offer freedom and exploration, preferring to learn through experience, travel, and broad, open-ended discussions. sagittarius students have a natural enthusiasm for big ideas and are often inspired by the pursuit of knowledge that challenges conventional thinking. their learning style is spontaneous and wide-ranging, excelling in areas where they can explore different cultures, beliefs, and philosophies. with an innate love for wisdom and truth, sagittarius often excels in fields that encourage lifelong learning and intellectual growth.

adventurous academia vibes: travel journal, global map, adventure novels, passport, backpack, camping gear, telescope, world atlas, foreign language textbooks, wanderlust-themed stationery, curiosity, open-mindedness, exploration, adaptability, risk-taking, global perspective, intercultural communication, problem-solving, independent study, passion for learning

major & minor in college: history, geography, anthropology, philosophy, foreign languages, international studies, environmental science, economics, creative writing, journalism

𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔠𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔦𝔞

capricorn / 10th house academia: capricorn in academia is disciplined and strategic, favoring subjects that offer practical applications and long-term value, such as business, engineering, or finance. they excel in structured, goal-oriented environments where they can set clear objectives and work methodically towards achieving them. capricorn students have a strong work ethic and are adept at managing their time efficiently, often thriving on detailed planning and rigorous analysis. their learning style is focused and persistent, with a preference for mastering foundational concepts before advancing. with a keen sense of responsibility and determination, capricorn often excels in areas that require patience and sustained effort.

winter academia vibes: thick coat, scarf, warm coffee, cozy sweater, planner, bookshelf filled with textbooks, quiet study space, pen & paper, minimalist décor, structured routine, discipline, time management, goal setting, planning, persistence, problem-solving, critical thinking, researching, note-taking, long-term planning

major & minor in college: business, economics, law, political science, accounting, engineering, computer science, mathematics, history, philosophy

𝔣𝔲𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔠 𝔞𝔠𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔦𝔞

aquarius / 11th house academia: aquarius in academia is innovative and independent, gravitating towards subjects that involve technology, future trends, or social change, such as engineering, environmental science, or sociology. they thrive in learning environments that encourage original thinking and unconventional approaches, often preferring to explore new ideas and challenge established norms. aquarius students are skilled at grasping complex, abstract concepts and enjoy engaging in collaborative projects that push boundaries and promote collective progress. their learning style is progressive and exploratory, with a strong inclination towards experimenting with novel methods and solutions. with a keen interest in improving the world, aquarius often excels in fields that foster creativity and forward-thinking.

futuristic academia vibes: smartwatch, laptop, tech gadgets, futuristic eyewear, minimalist design, neon lights, sci-fi novels, futuristic architecture, virtual reality headset, sustainable products, innovation, problem-solving, critical thinking, future-oriented thinking, collaboration, interdisciplinary learning, ethical considerations, lifelong learning, adaptability, social consciousness

major & minor in college: computer science, engineering, physics, astronomy, artificial intelligence, environmental science, sociology, political science, psychology, philosophy

𝔬𝔠𝔢𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔠𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔦𝔞

pisces / 12th house academia: pisces in academia is imaginative and intuitive, drawn to subjects that explore the arts, spirituality, or the human psyche, such as creative writing, music, or psychology. they excel in environments that allow for introspection and creative expression, often thriving in less structured settings that encourage personal interpretation and emotional depth. pisces students have a unique ability to grasp abstract concepts and connect disparate ideas, making them skilled at synthesizing information in innovative ways. their learning style is fluid and adaptable, with a preference for exploring topics through personal experiences and intuitive insights. with a deep sense of empathy and creativity, pisces often excels in fields that involve understanding and expressing the complexities of the human experience.

ocean academia vibes: seashells, aquarium, ocean-themed stationery, beach towel, nautical decor, marine biology books, beach reads, ocean-inspired jewelry, dreamcatcher, calming music, intuition, empathy, creativity, imagination, meditation, mindfulness, visualization, dream journaling, connection with nature, emotional intelligence

major & minor in college: marine biology, oceanography, environmental science, psychology, art history, creative writing, music, philosophy, sociology, religious studies,

all observations belong to @pearlprincess02

[dollysdarlings]

──── IN BETWEEN

ETHAN LANDRY x reader

#SYNOPSIS: based off of in between by gracie abrams; he wants it more than everything in between #CONTAINS: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff!!! #AUTHORSNOTE: my first fic ever so pls be nice, any constructive criticism welcomed! 1.8k word count.

There was something going on between you two, the entire group could feel it- see it. Nobody could come between you, it was almost electric, the chemistry. You've got your own thing; they wish that you two could see it.

It started at a frat party to kick off the upcoming Blackmore school year. It was huge, far too many people were crammed into one space, and inevitably, you bumped into him.

"Oh!" you gasped as you practically slammed into him, spilling the contents of the red solo cup in your hands, making you curse under your breath. "I'm- I'm so, so sorry!" your words slur a bit, you've already had a little too much to drink, and your hands immediately moved to grab his arm to stabilize yourself.

"Let me fix it!" You don't even give him a chance to respond, you're already tugging him through the crowd and into the crowded kitchen, grabbing napkins and pressing them into the wet stain on his shirt.

"It's- It's okay." He tries to say over the music, but it falls on deaf ears, as you speak over him. "What's your name?"

The question catches him off guard for a second, and he can't help but glance around for his much more outgoing and social roommate as he speaks over the music. "Ethan."

"What?" You respond dumbly, leaning closer to him to hear him better.

"Ethan!" He tries again, speaking a little louder this time, his cheeks burning from the alcohol in his system and the proximity.

"Evan?" You say, brows stitching in confusion. Ethan shakes his head and leans in a little closer, a small smile forming on his face as he stops your hands movements with his own to get your full attention.

"It's Ethan." He corrects loudly this time, taking the napkins from your hands to dab at his shirt himself. You absentmindedly nod your head, mouth opening in a soft 'ohh' that tells Ethan you definitely didn't hear him still, and he can't help the way he grins and throws his head back in a laugh.

And you can't help the way you smile at the sound, laughing alongside him, even though you didn't find it all that funny, his joy was infectious to you, almost magnetic.

The rest of the friend group knew you two had something special, from the way Ethan dropped everything when you called, stopping mid-conversation if the phone rang with your caller ID like he couldn't stand the idea of letting you wait, or god forbid, missing your call.

"What if it's important?" He'd say when someone questioned him, they wished he'd stop pretending he wouldn't let his phone ring for more than a couple of seconds, maybe two.

Just two hearts falling in and out of love for something new.

The rest of the group wished that you could see it, the way you both light up the room with your smiles alone when you're together. They wished that you could see it, the spark in his eyes when he talks about you, or the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is looking.

Not that you were any better, of course.

There was one day when the group was hanging out in the Carpenter sisters' apartment, it was supposed to be a quiet movie night, you were all wearing matching pajama pants, there were snacks surrounding the coffee table, and they were all piled onto the furniture, and you and Ethan had squeezed into an armchair together.

It was the best seat in the house, you'd both said. Nobody argued or complained, allowing you both to cram into the armchair together despite the ample space on the couch, sharing knowing looks as you and Ethan fought over the blanket you were sharing.

About halfway through the film, Ethan had maneuvered himself to be leaned across your lap, laying his head on the armrest as he made himself comfortable. You tore your attention away from the movie, glancing down at him, expression softening as your hand moved to his head, absentmindedly playing with his hair, gently moving it out of his eyes so he could still see the television.

"Look at them," Tara whispers to Mindy from her spot on the couch, gesturing towards the unassuming pair. "They're so... domestic."

"they're so obvious-" Mindy says, but she's cut off by Chad's snickering. "The other day, Eth asked me if I wanted a peanut butter and y/n-ly sandwich."

"Who do you think will make the first move?" Tara asks quietly, turning her attention towards the two, who were, by now, curled up around each other, fast asleep as the rest of their friends placed their bets.

Ethan never was the party type, but for you, he'd go.

He'd go just to see that tipsy, lopsided smile on your face as you mingled in the crowd, he'd endure the loud music just to hear your voice, just barely over the music, calling out to him as you stumbled over to him.

He'd always imagined that it'd be one of these parties that he'd confess to you since this is how you two had met. There was something… romantic about seeing you in low, neon lights. He can't help the way his eyes soften as you stumble into his awaiting arms, he'd always be there for you.

"Ethan!" You say over the music, hands on his arms to stabilize yourself. "Dance with me!"

"What!" He responds, a grin plastered on his face. "No way!"

"Come on!" You plead with him.

He shakes his head again, still grinning at you, he's too busy admiring your eyes under the lights to bother indulging you. "Fine," you huff. "I'll dance with someone else."

His heart drops at your words, but he's left letting out a sigh of relief when it's Tara that you go to, who, bless her heart, is just as drunk as you are. Ethan can't help but laugh at the sight of you two dancing in each other's arms, carefree and drunk well off your asses.

He does that often, he realizes. He laughs so often with you, it's like everything about him is so much brighter in your presence, you light a fire within him, and he doesn't know how to put it out, but he doesn't think he wants to.

Ethan feels two hands gripping his shoulders, jolting him out of his daydreams as he turns to face who it is, coming face to face with Chad, who gives him a slight shake, before leaning in to talk into his ear.

"Just talk to her man!" He says, jostling him further as he grinned at him.

"Who?" Ethan replies, but he knows who, he hasn't been able to take his eyes off said 'who' all night.

"Don't play dumb with me." Chad scoffs, and Ethan finally peels his attention away from you to roll his eyes at him and respond, except he's interrupted by yelling cutting through the loud music,

He turns immediately, eyes searching for you in the crowd, and he spots you just in time to watch you get a drink thrown in your face, instantly wiping away the apologetic look you had on your face, leaving you standing there, sopping wet.

Shame and embarrassment flood your system, sobering you up in an instant as people whisper amongst themselves about your misfortune. Your eyes search for Ethan amongst the crowd, making eye contact with him before you bolt out of the party with tears in your eyes.

Ethan doesn't hesitate to call after you, following you out before you can spend another second alone.

He catches up to you about half a street down from the frat house, calling out to you, which, for the first time, you ignored. You wrapped your arms around yourself, the cold night air chilling you through your soaked top.

"Just- slow down!" He says finally, grabbing your arm and pulling you back to him.

You're spun around to face him, and he almost falters at the sight of your tears, your makeup staining your tear-stricken face. You shake your head at him before a sob rips through you.

He hates it when you cry, the way your sobs rip through his heart. He hates it when you frown, and your features contort so painfully. It makes him ache, it breaks his heart into pieces.

He pulls you into his arms, not caring about the way your makeup smudged onto the fabric of his shirt as you buried your face into his chest. He rubs your back in soothing circles.

"This party was lame anyway." He whispers. "Let's get you home."

It's late, you two are curled up on your couch, your head on his chest and his arms wrapped around you as he whispers into your ear to try and cheer you up, his fingers are messing with your hair.

"You're... you're beautiful, and funny, and smart like nothing I've ever seen." He murmurs, loose-lipped from the alcohol he'd consumed not even an hour prior.

You loved how he talked late at night when it was just the two of you, like you were the center of his universe, saying things nobody had ever said to you before.

"You think so?" You asked, voice soft and still disheartened.

"Yeah." He says, not skipping a beat. "Yeah, I know so."

You sit up, leaning into him to press your forehead against his, a smile playing on your lips as you cheekily respond.

"You're not too bad yourself" You murmured.

"Yeah?" He grins.

"Yeah." The sight of his grin made your eyes soften, a soft grin on your lips.

Hesitantly, he raised a hand to cup your face. There's a slight tremble to his hand, like he's nervous. This was it, he tells himself. This was it.

"You... you know you're my best friend, right?" He asks you quietly. "I mean-- I know you know, but like, do you? Do you know how important to me you are? Because you're super important to me."

"I mean, there's... there isn't anyone who even comes close to you in my eyes, you're like-" He's cut off by lips crashing onto his, stopping his rambling with a gentle kiss.

It feels like there's holy ground beneath them, and Ethan swears there are sparks flying as he kisses you back. The kiss is clumsy, but it's sweet, slow, and full of unspoken adoration.

Ethan pulls back with a fond expression, you're both red-faced and grinning like fools, and you lean in to kiss him again, but you're interrupted by the door to your apartment opening.

"I owe Tara so much money now." Chad groans, the rest of their group behind him, while their friends whooped and hollered.

"Get out!" You grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and threw it in their direction, Ethan just laughed, his hand finding yours.

He loves you more than everything in between.

[solarmorrigan]

Movie Nights

For the @steddie-spooktober day 25 prompt: Frankenstein Friday Rated: T | Words: 1514 | CW: None | Tags: established relationship, outsider POV, I know the movie is over 90 years old but I didn't actually watch it myself until a month ago, so just in case there's anyone else out there who hasn't seen it, Frankenstein (1931) spoilers Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Part 3 of the Good Neighbors series

Gladys can appreciate new things. Books, television, music – the little joys to be found in new discoveries are what make life worth living. She isn’t as set in her ways as some people her age can be, but she does have her favorites.

She loves her mysteries and her thrillers above all else; the likes of Agatha Christie, Elizabeth Peters, and Arthur Conan Doyle line her shelves. She’s dipped into the genre of spies and intrigue, digging into Ian Fleming and John Le Carré. She’s even been known to appreciate a good horror film now and then.

Emphasis on “good.”

“So this is what passes for horror these days?” Gladys asks as a young man on the TV screen is sucked down into his bed, only to be spat back out as an absolute geyser of blood.

Eddie chuckles, glancing up from the screen. “Not your cup of tea?”

Gladys leans on the back of the couch, resting her arms there. She’d only come over to the boys’ apartment to see if they had a spare baking dish she could borrow; they certainly hadn’t invited her in to critique their choice of entertainment. But all the same–

“I just think they should try a little harder to really scare people. These days, it’s all shock and gore. All they have to do is shower people in blood and call it a day,” Gladys says. “I remember a time when they put real effort in.”

“Back in your day?” Eddie teases, grinning at her.

Gladys tsks, cuffing him upside the head – not hard, barely more than a tap, but he still falls sideways onto the couch with a gasp, clutching his head, and then rolls right off and onto the floor with a thump. Gladys rolls her eyes, but doesn’t bother to hide her smile at his antics.

“Hey, will this work for–” Steve exits the kitchen, a glass baking dish in his hands, and stops as his attention is almost immediately diverted to Eddie. “Why are you on the floor?”

“Gladys attacked me,” Eddie replies.

“Oh. Good for her,” Steve decides, holding up the dish again. “Will this work for you?”

“That would be fine,” Gladys says, accepting it as Steve passes it over.

“She also thinks my movie is trash,” Eddie says brightly as he levers himself back up onto the couch.

“I did not say it was trash,” Gladys says. “At worst, I said it was cheap.”

“Okay, but that’s not better,” Eddie says.

“I’m not a huge fan, either,” Steve leans in to stage whisper to Gladys, “but it makes him happy.”

“Yeah, yeah, everyone’s a critic.” Eddie rolls his eyes, then leans back a bit so he can look up at Gladys. “What would you call a good horror movie, if not the genius of Wes Craven?”

Gladys purses her lips, thinking for a moment. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen the classics? Dracula, The Creature from the Black Lagoon?”

Eddie lets out a thoughtful little noise, shaking his head. “Can’t say I have.”

“Well, you ought to. You’ll see where it all began, then,” Gladys says.

“And I get the feeling you’d enjoy showing us,” Eddie says, wiggling his eyebrows up at Gladys.

“’Us’? Who’s ‘us’? When did I get roped into this?” Steve asks, and Eddie reaches out to take one of his hands.

“We’re a package deal, baby, everyone knows that,” Eddie says.

“No one around here but Gladys knows that,” Steve reminds him.

“Everyone important knows that,” Eddie amends. “Anyway, what do you say, Gladys? Feel like educating a couple of horror philistines such as ourselves?”

“Well,” Gladys says slowly, “I’m sure I could come up with something.”

This is how she ends up in her armchair the following Friday night, the boys both sitting on the loveseat, all watching as the audience is warned of the frightening nature of the upcoming film playing out on the television.

“Now, this wasn’t Universal’s first horror film, and it wasn’t even the first movie adaptation of Frankenstein,” Gladys says when the opening credits come on, “but it is a bit iconic. I thought you might get a kick out of it.”

“But is it scary?” Eddie teases.

“Well, I don’t know about scary, but maybe a bit shocking. Look at it this way:” Gladys says, “it was 1931. Graverobbing and murder might seem mundane to you, but we weren’t quite as desensitized to seeing it on the screen back then.”

Steve glances over at her. “Do you remember when this came out?”

“Oh, barely.” Gladys wiggles her hand back and forth in a so-so gesture. “I certainly didn’t go to see it in the theater, I was only six or seven at the time.”

“Still, that’s pretty cool,” Steve says, and Gladys favors him with a smile.

If they aren’t altogether horrified by the movie, the boys are at least engaged, keeping up a running commentary that has even Gladys laughing. (“He had that coming,” Steve says when the monster finally catches Frankenstein’s assistant. “Yep. Rest in pieces, Fritz,” Eddie adds.) However, as they reach the midway point, the father onscreen bidding his daughter to go play with her cat while he works, Steve shifts uneasily in his seat.

“Wait, they’re not going to do anything to the cat, are they?” he asks, cutting a worried glance at Gladys.

As if the thought hadn’t occurred to him until Steve voiced it, Eddie sits up straight in his own seat. “Gladys,” he says, pointing an accusing finger at the screen, “you’re not showing us a movie where they kill a cat, are you?”

One brow raised, Gladys regards the pair of them. “You’re worried about the cat, but not the child?”

Steve scoffs. “It’s 1931, they’re not gonna kill a kid,” he says, while Eddie nods in agreement.

Both brows raised now, Gladys only gives them a little “hm,” and turns back to the screen. With some suspicion, Eddie and Steve do the same, watching as the scene unfolds.

“Oh, shit,” Steve says, taken aback as the monster tosses the little girl into the lake.

“Damn. Guess we should’ve worried about the kid, after all,” Eddie says.

“You have to have some idea of how this movie ends,” Gladys says, shaking her head. “Did you really think they’d form an angry mob over a dead cat?”

“I would,” Eddie declares, then looks down at Steve, who at some point in the last half hour had ended up tucked into Eddie’s side (when, Gladys isn’t sure, but it’s sweet; it’s a pleasant feeling knowing how comfortable the two of them are here). “Steve, would you form an angry mob with me if someone killed our cat?”

“We don’t have a cat,” Steve says.

“That’s not the point,” Eddie insists, and Steve relents.

“I would come with you if only to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed,” he decides.

“I’ll take it,” Eddie says with a shrug.

The rest of the movie plays out on the screen – the forming of the mob, the confrontation with the monster, the burning windmill, and, at last, the peaceful conclusion.

“Wait,” Eddie says, brows furrowed as he watches the end credits play, “that’s it? That’s how it ends? A toast to the house of Frankenstein, the end?”

“Yes…” Gladys says slowly. “Why? How should it end?”

“Oh, I don’t know, how about a little restitution for the guy whose daughter got murdered?” Eddie demands, shooting up out of his seat so quickly that Steve has no time to brace himself and falls sideways onto the loveseat with a little ‘oof.’ “How about a little accountability? I mean, seriously, this is just typical; some rich, entitled asshole plays around with things he can’t control, creates a problem he refuses to solve, and the poor end up being the ones to pay the price!”

“Now you’ve got him started,” Steve mutters to Gladys as he sits himself back up.

“Is there any way to get him to stop?” Gladys asks, though she’s a little fascinated with the theatrical way Eddie throws himself around the living room as he rants.

“Uh.” Steve glances over at Eddie and back away again, and there actually seems to be a little color rising in his cheeks. “Not, um…”

“Take him home first, if you’re planning to do something like that,” Gladys says primly, only to lose the fight to her laughter when Steve looks over at her, aghast.

“I wouldn’t–!” he protests indignantly, his face going redder.

“Are you guys even listening to me?” Eddie demands, turning back to face the pair of them.

Gladys declines to answer, asking instead, “Eddie, dear, how did you like the movie?”

“Oh. Aside from the ending, it was great.” Eddie drops back onto the loveseat, reaching out absently to tug Steve back over to his side. “What else ya got?”

“Well,” Gladys says, picking through the stack of tapes she’d managed to dig up at the video store. “If you like entitled rich people, let’s see how you feel about Dracula.”

[denimbex1986]

'...Social media has played into this Irish invasion, with users fangirling over actors like Paul Mescal, Barry Keoghan, Andrew Scott, and Cillian Murphy. All of these men have been recognized for their work in critically acclaimed and/or popular films in 2023. Cillian Murphy is nominated for (and forecast to win) an Oscar for his role in Oppenheimer.

...this new male-driven phenomenon likely stems from the convergence of the two online trends: an overwhelming fan appetite for male celebrities in the “internet boyfriend” era, and a growing interest in Irish culture. The result is a super-online (and horny) generation of Hibernophiles.

...the modern romanticization of Irish men doesn’t seem to be pegged to one film or moment in time, and a cursory Google search pulls up a slew of articles declaring the purported pros of dating Irish men. These lists are not necessarily based on hard facts as much as cultural assumptions, and many of them, including one by Popsugar, emphasize the Irish’s supposed charm, good looks, chattiness, and love for their mothers...

Presumably, there’s a link between the idyllic postcard image many Americans have of Ireland — lush green pastures, poetry, music, and a friendly population — and the view of Irish men as ideal romantic partners. It has certainly helped that Americans and consumers worldwide have been inundated with images of handsome Irish men in popular culture, from former James Bond star Pierce Brosnan to One Direction member Niall Horan to scruffy sex symbol Colin Farrell. While interviewing Cillian Murphy on his podcast Armchair Expert in 2022, host Dax Sheppard raved about the “inordinate amount of handsome men” he encountered on a trip to Ireland...

The 1845 Irish famine meant a huge influx of immigrants to the US, and the men quickly gained a reputation as “feckless, uncultured, and prone to drunkenness and violence,” Burke explained. “That stereotype has been argued to have persisted to some degree right up to the era of John F. Kennedy.” Kennedy’s election, she says, was thought to signal the full assimilation of the Irish in America. (A shift that, in turn, brought us notable Irish Americans like Alec Baldwin, Sean Hannity, and Bill O’Reilly.)

This shift in perception represents the “flexible racial status of Irishness,” as Diane Negra, film studies professor at the University College Dublin, writes in the book The Irish in Us: Irishness, Performativity and Pop Culture. She expands that this is due to a complex history and ethnic identity that allows them to “oscillate between otherness and whiteness.” Likewise, Burke says white Irish people fit into a category of “non-vanilla vanilla” in the Western imagination.

For the American viewer, “Irish actors arguably evoke a kind of safe ‘exoticness,’” she said. “Being native speakers of English with a purportedly cute accent, they are just ‘foreign’ enough for mainstream taste.”

That newfound perception of Irish men as harmless and gentle feels connected to a wider trend that they’ve shown up in on the internet: the “babygirl.” The moniker has become a go-to term of endearment for grown men in Hollywood who are physically attractive and display pleasant traits. According to Mashable, it describes “when a man is being cute, comfortable in his masculinity, or weak in an evocative way.” This act of infantilization can be applied to a wide range of men, but it’s hard not to notice actors like Mescal, Keoghan, Murphy, and Farrell being popular recipients of this treatment online...

The Andrew Haigh film All of Us Strangers, starring Andrew Scott and Mescal, was on the precipice of Oscars glory, with Scott campaigning but failing to make it to the final stage for Best Actor. For months throughout awards season, though, Mescal and Scott were making the internet swoon in joint interviews and red-carpet appearances, demonstrating that their onscreen chemistry carried over into real life. The same attention was paid to Keoghan, who became more of a talking point throughout awards season for his role in the polarizing Emerald Fennell film Saltburn — not to mention that nude dance scene — than a realistic Oscars contender.

Last but not least, there’s Cillian Murphy, whose role in Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer could very well win him an Oscar on March 10, after a near-sweep at the year’s major awards ceremonies. The standom and thirst for him on social media is particularly striking, given that he’s had a lengthy, mostly unsung career that hadn’t yielded huge starmaking moments before Oppenheimer, despite playing multiple side characters in Nolan’s filmography. Prior to playing the “father of the atomic bomb” last year, his most notable role as a leading man was as gangster Thomas Shelby in the BBC2 show Peaky Blinders, which ran for almost a decade and earned a strong Tumblr fan base.

Professor and author Christopher Shannon adds that the public’s affinity for Murphy is particularly fascinating, given that American audiences haven’t necessarily fallen in love with him through Irish cinema like previous Irish actors.

“What strikes me about someone like Murphy is that he has achieved his fame mostly in non-Irish roles,” he said. “Murphy is celebrated as an actor who happens to be Irish rather than as a distinctly Irish actor.”

Nevertheless, Murphy’s Irish identity seems to be part of his draw, based on how his online fan base interacts with him. Despite being rather reserved, the Batman Begins star has generated an entire mill of memes, many of them stemming from routinely unenthused interactions and a general “who gives a fuck?” attitude. In particular, it seems as though the internet enjoys the ways he firmly declares his Irishness.

One of his most viral moments is a clip of him repeatedly stating that he’s Irish after an interviewer refers to him and his Inception co-star Tom Hardy as British. Another popular image of Murphy shows the actor seemingly giving Prince Harry a dissenting glare as the cast lines up to meet him at the Dunkirk premiere. This could well just be Murphy’s natural expression (he’s not exactly known for looking cheery), but the internet interpreted Murphy’s look as proof of his disdain for the British monarchy...

Murphy has said that it’s a “good time to be an Irish actor” in Hollywood. At the same time, when asked how he felt about being the first Irish-born actor to win Best Actor at the BAFTAs last week, he seemed slightly exhausted by a sense of tokenism. “It means a lot to me to be Irish,” he answered a journalist. “I don’t know what else to say. Should I sing a rebel song?”

Of course, this quip only made the Murphy Hive fall in love with him more.'

[dorothea-dorie]

𝐄𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (Regulus Black x Reader)

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 1: 𝙀𝙢𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

“Again!” The stern voice of her father insisted as Y/n breathed heavily, beads of sweat on her forehead as Abraxas Malfoy, Y/n’s father, observed her ballet performance. Y/n was chosen to be the leading role of the ballet, Giselle and Abraxas wanted his daughter to be perfect, as always.

“Father, Y/n is tired, Let her rest” Lucius spoke out looking at Y/n slightly worried. Abraxas turns his head to look at his son gripping the smooth velvet material of his armchair, Abraxas gives Lucius a cold glare “Do you want your sister to embarrass herself in front of the whole Wizarding World?!” Y/n and Lucius flinch slightly at the bombarding tone of their father, Y/n looks at Lucius giving him a small smile before shaking her head. 

“I’ll perform better, Father until I achieve perfection” She gently states looking at her father “As always, It’s my only plan” She continued, nodding her head. Abraxas scoffs but is satisfied by her answer before gesturing for her to perform her routine again. Y/n looks at the vast ballet room her father made just for her in their Manor before breathing out a sigh as she prepares to perform the ballet again. 

The room is adorned with mirrors that line the walls, reflecting her every movement, allowing her to perfect her technique and form. Soft, natural light filters through the windows, creating an ambiance of tranquility that calms her slightly despite being under the strict observance of her father and the encouraging gaze of Lucius. 

Abraxas nods at her before he takes out his wand and casts a simple spell for the recorder to start playing, Variation de Giselle. As the music starts to play, her movements become more fluid and graceful, like a painter's brush strokes on a canvas. She glides across the floor, executing pirouettes and arabesques with breathtaking precision. Each step is a testament to her years of training and the unwavering commitment to her craft.

Her reflection in the mirrors becomes her harshest critic and her most trusted ally. With every turn and grand battement, she analyzes her form, seeking perfection in every line and curve of her body. Each correction she makes brings her closer to achieving the ideal expression of her artistry.

“Again!” Abraxas states, glaring at his daughter’s mistake, Y/n nods before doing it again and again and again. Lucius stares at her as she glides through the room performing the choreography, worried for her knowing very well that she is tired. As she practices, she becomes acutely aware of the subtle nuances of her body. She learns to listen to its whispers, detecting the tiniest adjustments needed to perfect her technique. Her breath becomes a metronome, guiding her through each movement and fostering a sense of rhythm and flow.

Hours pass unnoticed as she loses herself in the dance. Sweat glistens on her brow, and her muscles ache with exertion, she wants to pass out. She feels too tired to continue but she remains determined, driven by her passion for the art form and the passion to impress her father and to not make a single mistake, to achieve perfection. When she finally concludes her practice, she takes a moment to stand at the center of the room, her heart still pounding with the exhilaration of the dance. With a sense of accomplishment, she bows to her reflection in the mirrors, acknowledging the growth and progress she has made.

Lucius and Abraxas clap as she finishes her performance, A look of satisfaction can be seen on Abraxas’s face as he smiles at his daughter, Abraxas gestures for her to approach him. Y/n walks over to her father, smiling softly despite feeling tired as Lucius places a hand on her shoulder smiling at her, quite impressed.

“Was it perfect, Father?” She gently asked, patiently waiting for his critique. Abraxas nods his head with a proud smile on his face “As always, my dear” Y/n breathes out a soft sigh of relief, Abraxas stands up from his seat on the armchair “I have work to do at the Ministry” Y/n and Lucius nods as their father leaves the room closing the door behind him.

“Some of my friends are here, I hope you don’t mind, Y/n” Lucius looks at her as he says this, She nods, not minding it one bit “Of course, They’re your friends after all” She gently states, The door opens slightly and some of Lucius’s friends enter. Y/n glances at them through the mirror before focusing on her reflection in the mirror, Her and Lucius’s back turned to them. She removes the hairpins that held her hair in a bun feeling her soft h/c hair falling from the bun.

Lucius’s friends were quite known in the Wizarding World due to their families such as the Rosiers, Blacks and others. Some of them were pompous brats but Y/n favored Barty Crouch Jr. and Evan Rosier despite their stubborn selves, She enjoyed their chaotic energy.

As tiredness gradually overtakes her, Y/n begins to experience a surreal disconnect from her surroundings. The weight of exhaustion weighs heavily upon her, and her body feels like an anchor, dragging her down into a state of lethargy. Her movements become slower and less coordinated, as if she's navigating through a thick fog.

Lucius approaches his friends unaware of his sister���s predicament, Her eyelids grow heavy, and the effort to keep them open becomes increasingly challenging. Her vision blurs, and the world around her seems to lose its sharpness and clarity. Y/n blinks slowly, trying to fight off the overwhelming urge to close her eyes, but each blink lasts longer than the last. With each passing moment, her grip on consciousness loosens. Her thoughts slow down, and it becomes harder to focus on anything in particular. Her mind drifts, and she finds herself lost in a hazy reverie, drifting between dream and reality.

Y/n’s heart rate slows, and her breathing becomes shallow and irregular. The world around her fades further into obscurity, and she starts to feel detached from her own body. It's as if she's an observer, watching herself from a distance, the world growing increasingly distant and blurry.

Evan Rosier, a friend of Lucius, notices Y/n’s distress and states “Hey, Malfoy, Is your sister alright?” All of Lucius’s friends shift their gaze at Y/n who’s back was turned to them as she walks toward the drawers on the right side of the room, her steps were heavy and she seemed tired. She felt piercing eyes look at her, she glances at them and locks eyes with Regulus Black, a member of the noble house of Black. Narcissa, Lucius’s fiancee has told her about him, Narcissa described him as a highly intelligent and ambitious young wizard and how despite his young age is deeply committed to the dark beliefs of his family, embracing the ideology of blood purity and devotion to Lord Voldemort. 

Lucius walks over to her worriedly “Y/n, Are you alright?” He asks her, concerned. As her energy wanes, she feels her body sway and tremble. The ground beneath her seems unsteady, and her legs become unresponsive. She clings to whatever support she can find, gripping the barre, trying to maintain her balance, but it's a futile effort. Her body finally gives in to the overwhelming fatigue, and she begins to sink, gently collapsing.

“Y/n!” Lucius rushes over to her just in time to catch her, Lucius brushes her hair off her face and looks worried at her pale complexion. “Luce, I don’t feel good” She chuckles softly before wincing because of the headache, Lucius frowns before he turns to Regulus who looks slightly worried “Call for a healer, Black!” Regulus nods, about to walk out the room to find a healer.

"Don't" Y/n states, groaning in pain before sitting up, grasping her head with her right hand. Lucius shakes his head and sternly says "I highly advise that you go see a healer, Y/n" Y/n scoffs and glares at him.

"There is no need for a healer, It's just a small headache" Y/n grips the barre and slowly pulls herself up, Lucius holds her back and says, deeply concerned "It's best if you rest for now" Lucius looks at his friends and says "Leave." His voice is cold and unfeeling before he guides his sister to her bedroom.

Regulus Black looks at Y/n Malfoy, his eyes holding no emotion but there was a glint of slight concern as Y/n glanced at him before exiting the room with Lucius. Regulus exits the room along with Barty and Evan. Some of Lucius's friends exit the Manor whispering about how pretty the youngest Malfoy is and how she'd look good as a wife. 

"Those idiots have no respect" Barty scoffs, glaring at some of Lucius's friends especially Rabastan Lestrange who was talking about how he would've 'tortured' the young girl in his bedroom. Evan cringes and gives Rabastan's back a look of disgust "That's just absolutely revolting. Y/n is feeling unwell yet Lestrange is here commenting about ridiculous stuff" 

"If he tries to touch her, I'll hex him to oblivion" Barty whispered to Evan, harshly also glaring at Rabastan. Evan quickly nods "I'll join you" The two nod before chuckling

"Regulus, you in?"

"Sure" Regulus answered, shrugging his shoulders, a smirk present on his face "It'd be nice to hex Lestrange into oblivion after all, Give him a taste of his own medicine" Evan and Barty laugh in amusement. Barty nods "Absolutely correct, Reggie".

Regulus rolls his eyes before keeping silent throughout the continuation of Evan and Barry's banter but deep inside. He was furious at Rabastan Lestrange and the other men who left the Manor, it's just disgusting how these men treat women like objects.

[cynic-spirit]

the manor without yn

The Wayne Manor felt unusually quiet and empty as Bruce walked through its vast, echoing halls. The grandeur of the place, once comforting, now seemed a bit overwhelming without Y/N’s lively presence. The absence was palpable; the air felt thicker, heavier.

Bruce wandered into the kitchen where Alfred was preparing a simple meal. He noticed how much the space lacked its usual warmth—there were no lively conversations, no soft music playing, and no occasional bursts of laughter from Y/N.

Alfred, ever perceptive, noted Bruce’s distracted demeanor. “Master Wayne, you seem somewhat out of sorts,” he remarked, stirring a pot on the stove. His tone was more observational than critical.

Bruce sighed, leaning against the counter. “It’s just...different,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of frustration and unease. “I mean, we’ve managed fine without her before, but now it just feels...empty.”

Alfred glanced over his shoulder, his expression softening. “It’s understandable, sir. Miss Y/N has brought a new vibrancy to this place. Her absence is noticeable.”

Bruce nodded, rubbing a hand over his face. “I didn’t realize how much I had come to rely on her presence until she was gone. Even the smallest things—like her choice of music or the way she makes tea—have become such a part of the routine.”

Alfred set the spoon aside and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “Indeed, Master Wayne. It’s often the little things that become the most significant. Her presence here has transformed the manor into a home rather than just a residence.”

Bruce chuckled softly, a touch of wistfulness in his tone. “I suppose I took it all for granted. The way she fills the space with her energy, how she makes the house feel less like a grand estate and more like a place where people live.”

Alfred nodded, a knowing smile on his face. “It’s a good reminder of how much she means to both of us. Even the way she scolds you, it’s all part of the life she’s brought into this house. It’s a testament to how deeply she’s integrated into our lives.”

Bruce glanced around the kitchen, as if expecting to see Y/N’s familiar figure appear around the corner. “I suppose it’s a good thing,” he said, a small smile touching his lips. “It means she’s truly become a part of my life. I wouldn’t trade her presence for anything.”

Alfred gave a reassuring nod. “Absolutely, sir. It’s a sign of how much she’s come to matter. And it’s clear that the manor—and you—are much better for it.”

Bruce took a deep breath, feeling a sense of resolve settle over him. “I guess I’ll just have to appreciate her even more when she gets back.”

Alfred's eyes twinkled with a hint of humor. “And perhaps use this time to prepare something special for her return. She’ll appreciate the gesture.”

Bruce’s smile widened slightly, a plan forming in his mind. “Yes, I think I’ll do that. It’ll be good to show her just how much her presence means to me.”

As Alfred resumed his cooking and Bruce wandered off to take care of some work, the manor felt a bit less lonely. The realization of Y/N’s importance had brought a new perspective, and Bruce felt a renewed sense of appreciation for the life they shared.

As Bruce moved through Wayne Manor, the usually vibrant spaces felt like shadows of their former selves. The grand library, once a sanctuary of warmth and conversation, seemed hushed and cold. The large bay window, which Y/N often used as a reading nook, now appeared dim and forlorn. The rich leather armchairs, though still luxurious, seemed to sag slightly without her lighthearted presence.

In the music room, where Y/N had played the piano with such passion, the space felt hauntingly empty. The grand piano sat silently, its polished surface reflecting a stillness that seemed to echo through the room. The soft, inviting melodies that used to fill the air were now replaced by an unsettling silence.

Even the garden, which Y/N had once transformed into a personal oasis with her laughter and cheerful strolls, felt desolate. The meticulously manicured hedges and flowerbeds seemed to droop slightly as if mourning her absence. The secluded corner where she loved to read, usually a hidden retreat full of life, now felt like a forgotten alcove, its solitude palpable.

The kitchen, where Y/N had often danced about while preparing meals or simply chatting with Bruce, felt starkly different. The countertops, usually cluttered with her favorite ingredients and small notes, were now unnervingly clear. The smell of her preferred teas and freshly baked goods, which had once lingered in the air, was replaced by a sterile, uninviting atmosphere.

Bruce, moving through these spaces, found them filled with an eerie emptiness. The rooms, though still grand and beautiful, felt like they were missing a vital piece. Each corner, once brimming with Y/N’s warmth, now seemed to hold a ghostly silence. The manor, once a living, breathing entity, now felt like a grand, empty shell. The contrast between its former vibrancy and its current stillness made the absence of Y/N even more striking.

As he wandered through these haunted spaces, Bruce couldn’t help but feel a deep, unsettling sense of loss. It was as if each room was a silent witness to the life and energy that had once been there and was now waiting for her return to restore it. The once-familiar spaces had become reminders of how much her presence meant, and Bruce felt a renewed appreciation for the life they shared.

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Florine Stettheimer, Family Portrait, II, 1933. Oil on canvas.

Dressed in a black pantsuit and with palette and paintbrush in hand, the artist appears at the far left side of this family portrait. She is joined by her mother, who sits upright in the golden armchair at right, and her sisters, Ettie and Carrie; the former reclines in the chair beside the artist, and the latter flanks the scene at the opposite end, a cigarette between her fingers. An artist, set designer, and poet, Stettheimer led a New York salon where she entertained her family and a close circle of artists, critics, and curators, exhibiting her work and sharing her poems.

Signs of her 1930s Manhattan milieu abound in this painting’s backdrop—an imagined skyline that features the Art Deco skyscraper at the heart of Rockefeller Center, known today as the Comcast Building, as well as Radio City Music Hall, the Chrysler Building, the Statue of Liberty, and a dragon-adorned decorative fragment from Alwyn Court, the midtown apartment building where the artist lived and worked. Overtaking these monumental and modern structures, Stettheimer depicted a trio of fantastically enormous blooming flowers at the painting’s center. She was unabashedly proud of this unconventional and personal portrait, frequently referring to the painting as “my masterpiece.”

Photo & text: Museum of Modern Art

[bellaaldamas]

Although I'm generally not fond of the idea of Cinderella meeting the Prince (even in disguise) before the ball in various adaptations, especially if this plot point is used to highlight how supposedly "progressive" she is compared to her other counterparts (the one put down most frequently is Disney's animated Cinderella who didn't even know the attentive and kind gentleman she met at the ball was the Prince himself; and yet she is called a "shallow dreamer" and/or a "gold digger" by canon twisting armchair critics), I have to say that Disney's 1997 Live Action with Brandy handled said plot point near perfectly. It was a subversion of the Frozen narrative long before the latter movie came out and before the company conformed to pseudo-"feminist" media trends.

When Brandy's Cinderella stumbles upon the Prince disguised as a commoner she is nice and polite with him and even has a brief but honest conversation with him about how a man should treat a woman (not like a princess but like a "person"). But she does not fall in love with him nor does she go on to dream about him.

From the get go the two of them are shown as two complete strangers who have similar experiences with wanting to find a like-minded person yet have vastly different social backgrounds making it unlikely for them to have a future. We learn of their shared values and longings from the song they sing synchronized in the very beginning. Whereas the difference in their backgrounds is revealed as we, the audience, see the "commoner" reveal himself as a royal person boarding his carriage after his encounter with Cinderella.

The encounter was sweet and pleasant but neither gave it much of a thought and Cinderella in particular went on to live her life as it was (no matter how difficult) and dream not about the Nice Guy she met at the market but about her freedom, the ball and the Prince. And the narrative framed it as being absolutely fine.

At no point did the writing imply Cinderella was superficial, naive or silly to want to break free from her restrictive environment, wish for a better life or aspire to meet someone who would fall in love with her at first sight and vice versa.

The movie went even further subverting the notion that a woman wanting any of that makes her shallow when it had Fairy Godmother introduce the audience - in the opening musical number, no less - to the deliberate misdirect as she sang her "impossible" song; supposedly admonishing the dreamers and, especially, girls who believe in fairy tales. It almost looked like it was going to be another Frozen-esque cautionary tale with woman's dreams shattered, her being "put in place" and the all knowing society being "right all along" and yet it was nothing of the sort.

When Cinderella sings her bittersweet song about enjoying being "in her own little corner, in her own little chair" after the exploitation she has to endure at the hands of her step family the narrative frames it as the only way for her to express herself. Not as a demonstration of her being a "perfect inexperienced and wide-eyed victim" for an unscrupulous man to take advantage of. In that vein, when her Fairy Godmother shows up to - seemingly - deconstruct her dreams with "cold harsh reality" that dreams do not ever come true and are pointless Cinderella outright tells her this is a "terrible" kind of thinking.

While Fairy Godmother insists it's up to a person to pursue their goals because miracles do not happen and, therefore, it's meaningless to waste your time dreaming of them Cinderella stands her ground. She explains why, in her position, dreaming is the only solace and motivation she can afford in order to have mental strength to even consider pursuing those goals.

And the movie once again sides with Cinderella - moreover, it has Fairy Godmother sing along with her about how dreams coming true and miracles happening is actually "possible". It has Cinderella go to that ball, dance with that Prince and fall in love at first sight - and no one belittles her for wanting to be with a "man she just met".

No anti-social sisters (only the step sisters shown not necessarily as cruel but misguided and being under the toxic influence of their disillusioned - in this version - stepmother), no equally anti-social men who "know better" and definitely no mansplaining Snowmen to teach that "poor little silly thing a lesson". A woman remains within her right to handle life's challenges as best she can and go about choosing a partner the way she sees fit.

"Do I want you because you're wonderful or are you wonderful because I want you" - this is the line both Cinderella and the Prince sing to one another in their duet. Now, one needs only to imagine such a line to come out of the mouth of any modern female protagonist, especially in the woke pandering new Disney projects. Then to realize they cannot even imagine that because it would not happen, ever again, at any point anymore.

It is not until the very final of the movie that Cinderella and the Prince learn they are the "commoner" and the "country girl" that stumbled upon one another in the beginning. Once they realize that there are no patronizing conclusions ensuing (no word about how you "can't marry a guy/girl you just met" and how your true love cannot be the person you only knew for a day but can totally be the person you knew for two whole days). They merely smile and playfully tease each other by making references to their first meeting. But neither judges the other for preferring the Prince over the "Nice Guy" or for being desperate to find the "ball girl" instead of the "market girl".

Rather sad that we're not going to get a movie like this again from Disney in the coming decade or even century.

[daily-ghostly-goobs]

I debated how seriously I wanted to respond, or if I wanted to,and decided fuck it I may as well.

if the song HYPERFIXATION is your first (comprehensible to you) exposure to the concept and striking a massive chord then uh,,,

I recommend looking up an adhd symptom list, contemplating, then turning around and looking up an autism symptom list too

(and coincidentally understanding that overstimulation includes getting fatigued of the big social event 3x faster than everyone else did and standing in the corner silent and zoning out, with or without the assurance this will be fixed if/when you can get into a dark quiet room, because co-morbidity/similarities are a bitch and hyperfixations a frequent part of autism too, this explanation being for every viewers benefit not just you)

like if this is an overstep on my part mb, genuinely just carry on, but hyperfixation as the song defines... (prodigal skill with a critical inability to direct focus on Any Task Ever ["A+ but you're late" "(bet you'll tell me not to make excuses...)"], required or not- from dishes to homework to genuinely fun other things that just presently don't entertain- unless an ideas owning every free thought)

It isn't just a little bit adhd, that's Very adhd (and autism). If you or followers reading this are relating hardcore and haven't entertained the chance before.... Consider.

tbh you don't need to post this one if you don't wanna. In addition to the chance you're already diagnosed and I'm preaching to the choir, there's just this reaction one develops when you see people go "haha i do that :)" to symptoms that are so identifiable. Emoji/music anon out ✌️, remember to take anons and armchair diagnoses with massive piles of salt 🧂🧂🧂

DAY 343 - CONSIDER (Click for better quality)

I do indeed relate to this song very heavily, you're right about that. Especially the whole 'cannot think about anything else at all ever 100%' type of hyperfixations, it's definitely recontextualized alot of conversations I've had before speaking about my own thought processes and ability to focus with others. This has been an ongoing thing throughout my life so far though, which means I've actually considered long enough to have an official assessment scheduled in about a month from now. (Ironic timing, I know.) I've kinda been on a recent trip of just.. getting stuff officially diagnosed after experiencing very clear symptoms for my entire life (one of the benefits of being self aware enough to keep track of certain things). At this point I've already got a laundry list of general mental disorders and possibly psychical (ain't getting the blood work for it for awhile so Dr.'s just kinda metronoming between either arthritis or some really intense psychosomatics), so I wouldn't be surprised if ADHD or autism were a thing for me aswell.

Don't worry about any boundary stuff, I've been contemplating and thinking about things like this for so long that it's become a relatively comfortable subject for me now. That being said, I hope you like the art, and have a wonderful next 24 hours, regardless of your current time. :]

[prettyentertaining]

obviously the gavinners are an industry plant, but do we think they're being funded by the government to deliver the whole 'law enforcement' messaging?

i just want to see the gavinners counterculture movement so so badly. apollo would agree with it but he's not cool enough to be in those spaces. i think phoenix is an armchair critic but is only pretending to care about 'musical standards' in order to bolster his haterism. ema is cheerfully throwing herself into toxic online gavinners discourse for sure. i think she has 'acab' in her bio and is living in mauvaise foi about the obvious contradiction. trucy will one day put two and two together about the musical heritage of the gavinners but i don't think the band will still be together by then.

[writing-whump]

War not won

Julian trying to hide being sick. Ryan provokes him to make him admit it. Cue comfort at the end.

-----

Julian hated being sick. It just didn't feel right anymore. Before, he wouldn't worry about it. Simply accept your fate, make precautions, inform people and get better as soon as possible.

He was always reasonable like that.

That was before and a lots of things were different, but this was the worst one. Cause he felt like a total burden for feeling off, for not bringing his A game and he felt terrible for a day he couldn't keep up with Ryan or follow him around.

He felt like he owned him so much. Fun, friendship, company, motivation, anything. Being sick was an excuse he ceased to have a right at.

So if Julian was sick, there was no way he was telling Ryan. He excused himself from classes right from morning, skipped practice at the gym and relied on Ryan having long day till evening and not catching on. He would surely get better until then.

It was difficult to keep the positive attitude when his stomach was cramping so hard. All he managed was to get a plastic bag to his bed and curl up on it under the blankets. He was shivering although the room felt stuffy and hot. Clothes were soaked in a minute and he felt like he couldn't breathe, or sleep because of the annoying sun knifing at him from the window. But standing up and pulling the curtain was too much effort, so he stayed put, hoping to sweat this out.

Julian finally managed to fall asleep around noon, when Ryan burst into the room.

"Whatcha doing, lazy ass? Didn't see you at lunch."

Julian blinked, eyes feeling heavy, and suppressed the urge to groan. Just when the sweet ignorance of sleep was falling on him!

"Was too hot. Wanted to take a break today." He always tried to normalise breaks these days, so Ryan wouldn't feel bad for needing some. Not that Ryan ever did take a break. Recovering from a wound was fine, but he wasn't willing to take things slowly after finally getting a yes from his doctor about resuming training.

"Yeah?" Ryan eyed him critically. "Cause you look weird. Sure you are alright?"

"I'm sure." Julian said, directing all his remaining strength into a calm stare. Ryan watched him for a few tense seconds, then shrugged.

"Fine then. Let's take a break. What about some music?"

Ryan flopped himself over to the small armchair they managed to squeeze between tables and the bed and dripped on TV.

Julian clenched his teeth. His head was pounding in the rhythm of his heart and his stomach felt tight and angry, churning loudly. Music would hide the noise, but he really really just wanted to suffer in peace.

Ryan put on his YouTube playlist on the TV and even put the volume up, whistling with the melody.

Julian turned his head to the wall angrily. The music was too loud, shaking him. As if the instruments played just to rile every molecule of his body. He was also getting nauseous from the heat again.

Curse Ryan and his stupid music and his stupid timing...was he doing it on purpose?

"You want a song of your own? Huh, Julian?"

Oh this was bad. He was calling him by his whole name.

Julian actually did throw the pillow over his head then. His mouth was pooling with saliva and something was climbing up his throat. He slowed it down quickly, but the nausea was like a blanket now, crawling up his arms, his neck, his ears.

The drums and the guitar joined the chorus of voices and Julian wanted to vomit then and there.

The horrible realisation made him shoot up into a sitting position, only to sway dizzily as he tried to stand up. Blood rushed into his head and his vision blacked out for a minute as he tried to catch his balance.

"Julian?" Ryan's voice was innocent, but he was watching him intensely.

Don't be sick, don't be sick, don't be sick. He chanted in his head. The water he drank in the morning was climbing up, with a terrible mushy aftertaste...

He stumbled to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. The white tiles were all turning and moving around and the yellow light cut into his eyes. He braced himself on the sink, trying to breathe through the nausea, but it wasn't helping at all.

Julian squeezed his eyes shut, trying to swallow it down, to hold it, but the vomit rushed out of his mouth with a cramp. All he could do was lean forward and let it happen, as warm water spilled out.

The cramps were terrible. Why was it hurting so much, when he was already vomiting? He burped and another wave of sick rushed past his mouth and into the sink.

He remembered himself then and got the water running to muffle the noises. He wasn't a particularly loud puker, so maybe this could slide...

Worse thing was the dizziness. He couldn't tell which way was down anymore. Stars danced behind his eyes and the sink was slipping from his fingers.

"Juls." Ryan's steady voice was like an anchor in the storm. Julian blinked, tried to focus his eyes, but his vision was still sparkling black and another hot wave of water blew out of his lips. His legs gave out.

"Whoa. I got you, man. Sit down, sit down." Strong hands gripped his shoulders as he sank to the tiled floor. Ryan was steading him, slowing his fall.

Julian was blinking rapidly until his vision cleared slowly. The world was still spinning, but at least he could recognise the bathroom ceiling again.

He was crouched on the floor, back leaning against Ryan's chest. Ryan held his upper body, hands on his upper arms from behind. "You here with me?"

That's when he felt coldness on his shirt. He puked right all over himself as he lost his balance.

Mortification tightened his throat, but he was still too confused and scared. Heat settled on his face and he felt the prickle of tears.

"Ryan, I-" he burped loudly and groaned as his stomach spasmed again. "I-I d-don't feel good."

"I knew you were sick. Why can't you admit it right away? Seriously. You are supposed to be the reasonable one." Ryan squeezed his shoulders where he held them.

"It's all on my shirt..." He hated how whiny his voice got.

"Shhh. I know." Ryan helped him sit up and them positioned him to lean against the shower bath. Then he took the rims of his shirt. "Arms up."

Julian was left shiver without his shirt, feeling pukey and gross and the worst burden in the world.

Ryan held up a wet towel to his face and dabbed at his cheek and chin. "There you go. All better."

Julian bit his lip hard, feeling the dizziness subside but the nausea rose up again. Rocked him like a boat. He burped and then gagged all over.

Ryan held the towel under his chin as bile and water caught on to it. The blond wasn't fazed at all, even swiping the bile from his lip with the clean end of the towel again.

"Aww man. You are really sick, huh?"

Tears spilled down his eyes then. He was just a filthy producer of bodily fluids today. His nose clogged up from the strain.

Ryan discarded the towel and sat down beside him, arm going around Julian, pulling him close. Julian's head ended up on his shoulder. "It's okay, man. You are okay. Don't cry," Ryan said.

Julian gave up. He tried to spare Ryan this, tried to be helpful, but he always ended up being helped instead. It wasn't fair.

So he cried into Ryan's chest, hating how much the touch and closeness loosened the tightness in his stomach. It was the first time he could breathe all day.

"There you go. Deep breaths."

Julian sniffled, and Ryan got him toilet paper to blow his nose into. Ryan's hand was running up and down his upper arm.

He felt better, not being alone in this.

Like the war wasn't won, but couldn't be lost anymore.

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

The Girls’ Trip Fairy Tale Ending

Summary:  This is my combined birthday gift for Joni ( @jrob64 ), Marta ( @snowbellewells ) and Krystal ( @kmomof4 ).  Happy birthday ladies! Four fandom friends are nearing the end of their annual girls’ trip when they’re suddenly visited by Isaac, the author before Henry.  He gives them an each a gift--an opportunity to jump into any scene in the storybook they want and fix it.  Large focus on CS, although other characters and relationships will be explored.  A big shoutout to @hollyethecurious and @winterbaby89 for betaing!

Word Count: 1123

Other Chapters: (2) (3) (4)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 1

“Does anyone remember what we used those puzzle pieces for in the escape room?” Krystal asked, looking up from her laptop at the kitchen table of the Pigeon Forge cabin.

“It had something to do with that map of France, didn’t it?” Joni answered from one end of the couch.

From the other side of the couch, Jen looked up from her laptop where she was busy editing.  “Yeah, it led us to that big map on the wall I think.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Krystal said, going back to her typing.

Across the room, Marta sat in the armchair, trying futilely to keep her eyes open.

It was the last day of their second annual girls’ trip, during which they’d crammed as much into the first three days as was physically possible.  This last day had been more relaxed.  They’d spent the entire day writing what was turning out to be an epically long fictionalized version of their adventures.

Now, it was closing in on midnight, and though they were all tired, no one was quite ready to call it a night.  After all, tomorrow morning they had to check out of the cabin and head back home.

For long moments all that could be heard was the clacking of laptop keys as Krystal finished writing her scene while Jen and Joni continued with their editing.

Marta lost her battle with the sandman, and her hands relaxed after which her laptop clattered to the floor.

“You can go to bed if you want,” Joni said.

Marta shook her head. “I don’t want to miss out on anything.”

Jen grimaced.  “At this point, I think all you’d be missing out on is the loud music our neighbors seem to be intent on blasting. An hour and a half past the noise ordinance.”  As though to emphasize her point, there was a loud cheer from the neighboring cabin followed by even louder music.

Marta chuckled but shook her head again.  “I don’t know what it is, but I just have this feeling, if I went to bed now, I’d be missing something.  Something big.”

No sooner had she stopped speaking than there was a crackling, fizzing sound and a formless puff of grayish smoke in the center of the living room.  When it cleared, the ladies found themselves face to face with none other than the smirking face of Isaac, the author before Henry.

For a moment no one spoke, mouths hanging open, brains trying to catch up to the fact that the impossible had just happened to them.

Finally, Jen spoke. “Seriously?  Of all the OUAT characters who could have visited us on our girls’ trip, it had to be you?”

“Could be worse,” Krystal said.  “It could have been Neal.”  She spat the name as though it was the foulest of curse words.

“Might as well be,” Joni pointed out.  “After all, the author is the one who made Neal the way he is.”

Isaac rolled his eyes.  “Everyone’s a critic.  Look, is anyone actually interested in what I’m here for, or do you just want to sit around criticizing my life’s work?”

“I’m interested,” Marta said, raising a hand.

Meanwhile, Joni mumbled “Why can’t we do both?” under her breath.

Isaac rolled his eyes dramatically once again.  “So here’s the deal.  Every writer emits a…for lack of a better word…energy, and fanfiction writers are no exception.  When someone works with an author’s original source material, that author can feel the energy.  Normally, I feel nothing but a ripple, but you, ladies, have been working together ALL DAY on your story, and to keep it brief, I felt a tidal wave.”

“Sorry?” Jen said.

“You fanfiction writers!” Isaac continued to rant as though she hadn’t spoken. “Always so critical of little things like plot holes and timelines and character development.  Always so sure you can do my job better than I can.  Well, I’m sick of it!  It’s high time I put you all in your place.”

“By… monologing us to death?” Joni deadpanned.

“No,” Isaac said, glaring at her, “by letting you try it if you think you’re so smart.”

Four confused looks met him.

Isaac reached into the messenger bag he had slung over his shoulder and pulled out what appeared to be a copy of the storybook.  “I’m giving each of you an opportunity to dive into the story at one key moment you would like to change.  You get to interact with the characters, tell them whatever you want, lead them in whatever direction you want.  Hell, you can even make one of them fall in love with you if you want.”

“But… won’t that change the whole trajectory of the story?” Jen asked.

“It may,” Isaac said, “but that’s the whole point.  If you change one thing, you’ll see the ripple effect–and just how difficult it truly is to do my job.  Don’t worry, though, once you return, all will be returned to the way it should be as though you’d never been there.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Krystal said, “you’re letting us, what, jump into the book and interact with our faves?”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Isaac said with a nod.

Krystal’s excited shriek echoed through the entire cabin.

“Sorry to be a bother,” Marta piped up, “but… won’t it require a lot of explanation to the characters why random women just happened to show up in their lives?”

“Ah, exposition,” Isaac nodded sagely, “the scourge of writers everywhere.  Don’t worry, I’m trying to get all of that out of the way in this first chapter of your adventure.  For the purposes of this exercise, all the characters know you and believe you have been a part of their story from the beginning.  No need to pull attention from the narrative to explain your presence.”

“But how does that work?” Jen asked.

“Because…” Isaac sputtered, “because….magic, okay?”

For several moments there was excited murmuring among the ladies as they discussed the relative merits of various scenes they’d like to “fix”

Finally Krystal addressed Isaac once again.  “We’ve only got one more question: How do we get there?”

“That’s where this comes in,” Isaac said, tapping the storybook. “Think of the scene you’re interested in visiting, step up to the book, and in you go.  So who’s first?”

“I know exactly where and when I want to go,” Joni said, getting to her feet and stepping up to the author. “Let’s get this fix-it underway!”

The book fluttered open, the pages flipping until they rested on a drawing of the beanstalk.  Joni placed her hand on the drawing, and suddenly there was a bright flash of light, and then she was gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Notes:

--When I was thinking about what I wanted to do for @jrob64, @snowbellewells, and @kmomof4​ for their birthdays this year, I thought about our girls’ trip to Pigeon Forge in late May.  We wrote our favorite characters into our trip, essentially, so I thought, what if I write us into their story?  So I asked each of them this question (without explaining the context): If you could go to one scene from OUAT and fix it, which scene would it be?  In order to avoid arousing suspicion, I started the ball rolling by giving my own answer to the question.  What follows will be the results of their answers!  I find any kind of writing involving IRL people as characters to be very difficult, so hopefully this works!

--This first chapter, of course, is basically just a set up chapter containing, as Isaac warned, quite a bit of necessary exposition--but hopefully, as he suggested, most of that will be out of the way now!  Just as a point of general interest, This chapter was nearly word for word what happened to us on our last night at the cabin--well, up until Isaac showing up at least, lol.  The photo I used is the living room of our cabin...where this story starts.

--Up next on August 3rd, we start with Joni’s story!  What if Joni convinced Emma that she really wasn’t wrong about Hook and she could trust him?

                                                                                NEXT CHAPTER-->

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

OTEP SHAMAYA Explains How She Deals With Online Trolls

In a new interview with "The Garza Podcast", hosted by SUICIDE SILENCE guitarist Chris Garza, OTEP frontwoman Otep Shamaya spoke about how she deals with online trolls. She said (as transcribed by BLABBERMOUTH.NET): "I don't even read YouTube comments. Nope. Or Blabbermouth. Yeah, I don't read [any comments] there either. I just feel, like, 'Who are you people? 'Cause I'll have people tell me, like, this, this, this and this about a band. And I'm, like, 'What band are you in?' 'Oh, I don't have one.' 'Okay. Start a band in this climate, start a band and write 10 songs… You write 10 songs, show me how it's done. Go out, have a 20-year career, write nine albums worth of material… And then I'll listen to your point of view. But until then…' It's like you're telling me the sky's purple. It's not, so I don't care. It doesn't really bother me that much. Sometimes I'll go on… If I do go on to YouTube and people are being just rude or whatever, I'll just leave a little snide comment or something funny, just to fuck with them. And they lose their energy real quick after that."

She continued: "That's part of what you have to learn when you get into the music industry, is that you're gonna have critics, you're gonna have people who don't know anything about music, but have an opinion, and everybody has that. They used to call 'em armchair quarterbacks — people who never played football, but they wanna tell the coach how to coach the team or the quarterback who to throw to, and all that. You're always gonna have these people who think they know more than the people that actually do it. And like I said, it's like telling me that the sky's purple. It isn't. So, I'm not worried about it. Earth's not flat. I'm not worried about it, you know. It doesn't bother me. It used to, quite a bit. I used to think, like, 'What am I doing wrong?'"

OTEP released a new studio album, "The God Slayer", on September 15 via Cleopatra. The follow-up to 2018's "Kult 45" offers up a mix of inspired original tracks as well as transformative takes on chart-topping hits from a variety of influences, including pop, rap and grunge, by such artists as Eminem, Billie Eilish, SLIPKNOT, Lil Peep and Olivia Rodrigo.

[juniperusashei]

Homer’s Iliad translated by Emily Wilson - 3/5

I think I must have been assigned to read Homer’s Iliad on at least three separate occasions throughout my youth, and Sparknotesed it every time. Which I feel bad about, because I always did want to read it, or maybe I wanted the clout that came with being a person who reads Greek epic poetry. In any case, when Emily Wilson’s new translation was released last year, I finally went for it. I had read selections from her Odyssey and found her approach to translation very accessible and easy to read. There was a lot of media hype about “the first woman to translate Homer” which led to some reviewers claiming this was a feminist reinterpretation of The Iliad. My pet theory is that they had her confused for Maria Dahvana Headley, whose translation of Beowulf was intentionally transformative. In any case, Wilson’s Iliad is meant to be fairly traditional and accurate to the original text, including some metrical craft I could not pick up on. Compared to all the other times I tried to finish the Iliad, I found Wilson’s version a much easier read, so I would recommend it for that reason. The supplemental materials are also way more impressive than most editions and justify the extra cost over just a Project Gutenberg download. Wilson’s introduction is hefty to say the least, at around 75 pages, and was often more moving than the poem itself (She even defends the infamous third chapter, the Catalogue of Ships, imploring the reader to “read them out loud: in mouth and ear, the long list of names become music.” I find comparisons of superhero movies to mythology mostly kind of dumb, but I could see Homer’s audience going crazy each time their guy’s name is called in this chapter the same way people soyface about the Avengers or whatever.) She provides all the context for a beginner like me to understand the poem, but also includes an extensive glossary and notes for each chapter for those who want to dive deeper. The hardcover edition is around $40, so whether or not this masterful editing justifies the high price honestly depends on how much you like reading about guys getting stabbed over and over again. I just got it from the library.

The poem itself was not as impressive. A lot of armchair critics (NOT Wilson) love to claim The Iliad as an anti-war piece to make it palatable to modern audiences. This was not my impression in the slightest. Sure, the epic deals with the horrors of war, often brutally (as I said before, pages upon pages of vivid gory disembowelments) but it seems the product of a society which obsessively fetishized war. I’m not condemning the text based on this, but I do think it’s harder to understand without unpacking the very different set of values that were held back then, so it’s a lot easier to attempt to update the text in a really sloppy way. Wilson does give a really cogent explanation of these ethical differences which helped me understand the text more fully, but that doesn’t mean I agree with it. Every time the equivalent of a Star Trek redshirt got killed off, Homer would expound on his ancestry and life, and then conclude with something like

…Menelaus stabbed his forehead above his nose, right at the bridge, and broke his skull, and popped his eyeballs out.

I literally opened to a random page and found something disgusting on my first try. It’s incessant. But I can see how telling each person’s life story dignifies their death. Still, it is hard to feel any sympathy for men who did not see women as people, but as property, as goes the inciting incident of The Iliad.

[letmereadherbertwestfics]

W*A*L*T*E*R S1E1: P*A*R*A*D*I*S*E

"I didn't know you liked Westerns, June." Walter said, the words slightly muffled by the popcorn in his mouth. June also munched on popcorn, her eyes trained on the tv in front of the two. 

"I really don't, but one of my favorite actors plays the main gunslinger." She explained. Walter nodded, and was going to ask another question, but before he could get the words out, western themed music began to play on the tv, and a black and white cowboy appeared on the screen. 

June and Walter quieted down, the only sound in the apartment bring the tv and the sound of their popcorn chewing. The western-style music was accompanied by the title card, large red letters reading Paradise. Then the title card faded into the show. 

"What are you two doing?" Said the voice of Wendell, coming from behind Walter and June. The two replied with hissed shushes, both turning to glare at Wendell. 

"Tough crowd." Wendell muttered as he moved from behind the couch, lowering himself into an armchair. 

The three watched together as gunshots fired, horses whinnied, and men in big hats kissed women in big skirts. It was the most stereotypical western any of them had ever seen, and by the end of it Wendell was practically snoring in his seat. When the final scene faded out and the commercials began, he stood from the armchair with a groan. 

"I can't believe you guys enjoyed that crap." He said, stretching as he headed for the kitchen. 

"Crap?! Paradise is not crap." June insisted, following Wendell into the kitchen. "It might be cheesy, but it isn't crap."

"June, I love you like a sister. But that show was C-R-A-P. Crap." Wendell replied, making June scoff. 

"Everyone's a critic." 

While June and Wendell continued to bicker about the show's quality, Walter sat completely still on the couch. His mouth was slightly agape, bits of popcorn sticking to his bottom lip. He was staring wide eyed at the television, seemingly not having realized that the episode was over. And Walter continued to stare at the screen until he was snapped out of his daze by Wendell patting him on the shoulder. 

"Well? Walter? What did you think of Paradise?" He asked, swinging his legs over the back of the couch until he was sitting next to his cousin. 

Walter cleared his throat, wiping the popcorn crumbs away from his lips. "That was the best thing I've seen since Godzilla." He said in a tone that suggested he was deadly serious. 

Wendell rolled his eyes and June grinned. "Whatever. I'm going to Baby Belle's." Wendell announced as he got up from the couch, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out." June muttered, making Walter smile. 

And as soon as Wendell was gone June dropped herself onto the cushion he had been sitting on. "So, what did you like about Paradise?" She asked Walter. 

"Oh boy, what wasn't there to like? The acting was captivating, the writing was witty, the setting and the costumes were all great to look at...and the music, it was like...music to my ears." He gushed. Walter took a deep breath to steady himself before continuing. "And don't even get me started on David Kauffman, the way he plays his character was just mesmerizing. I get why he's your favorite actor now."

June was thrilled, and she and Walter spent nearly two hours talking about the episode they had watched. June also got Walter up to speed on the episodes he had missed, and they discussed predictions for the episode next week, and when Wendell reappeared in the apartment and saw the two of them still having the conversation he left in the middle of, he was appalled.

"How can you have a two hour long conversation about something as boring as that show?" He asked as he tossed his jacket onto Walter, as if he were a coat rack. 

"Paradise is not boring!" Walter hissed, balling up Wendell's jacket and throwing it on the floor. 

"Whatever, but if you two keep me up with your fangirling I'm going to disconnect the cable." Wendell warned before heading to his bedroom. 

June chuckled before standing from the couch, stretching her arms and legs. "I should get going anyway. It's getting late." 

"Oh, let me walk you to the door." Walter insisted, also rising to his feet. 

----

"Allen, have you seen Walter come by here?" 

Allen, the cook for Gary's, shrugged at June's question. "The guy is so short he could have walked right on by. I'd never know." He said, scratching his head with his spatula. 

"Be nice. And don't use that spatula." June hissed as she walked away.

Walter promised June that he would come by on his lunch hour. Ever since their initial meeting the month before and the revelation of what Walter planned to do, it had become a ritual for June to invite Walter to lunch every day. It may have been a little savior complex-ish, but June doubted she could focus on anything in or outside of work if she didn't make sure Walter was keeping himself safe. At least until it had been long enough for her to not have to worry about that anymore. Which was exactly why Walter missing one little lunch meeting was so concerning to her. 

After waiting for another half hour, June called the police Department's front desk. After three rings the phone was answered by Mrs. Petrie, the secretary. 

"Hi Mrs. Petrie, it's June. Is O'Reilly in right now?" She asked, chewing on her bottom lip.

"No, actually, that's the problem." The secretary responded, sounding tired. "O'Reilly didn't show up for his shift and Sergeant Sowell is taking it all out on us."

June's heart dropped into her stomach. Not only did Walter not show up, but he didn't call in or tell anyone where he would be or why it was more important than work. That was enough to get her to immediately leave work, giving Allen a short explanation of where she was going before running three blocks from Gary's to Walter's apartment. It was also enough for June to walk right into Walter's apartment without knocking. 

"Walter? Are you home?" She called out, sweaty and out of breath from the run but still making her way through the apartment. She caught her breath as she walked into the living room, her eyes widening when she saw the scene in there.

Walter was seated in between the coffee table and the television, swaddled in a blanket and looking unkempt. His hair was a mess and his glasses were on the tip of his nose, but he didn't seem to care about either, because his eyes were glued to the television. Which was playing Paradise. 

"Walter? You feeling okay?" June asked, causing Walter to nearly jump out of his skin. He threw the blanket off of himself and turned around, but looked relieved when he registered that it was June standing there. 

"June! Yeah, I'm okay. Why?"

"...Why? You didn't show up to work and nobody had heard from you all day. I thought you were in danger or sick or..." June trailed off, not wanting to say out loud what she was thinking. But Walter seemed to understand anyway, because he sighed heavily and turned the TV off. 

"I'm sorry June. I guess I lost track of time." He said sheepishly. 

June sat down next to Walter on the floor, pushing away a discarded bowl of popcorn. "What could have been so important that you forgot to go to work?"

Walter's eyes lit up and he motioned to the TV. "There was a marathon for Paradise that started last night. I figured since I haven't seen all the episodes like you have that I would watch it. Then we could talk about the show together." He explained. 

June smiled softly, torn between being flattered at Walter's interest in a show she likes and angry that he had her worried sick so he could stay home and watch television. Deciding she liked to be flattered more, June forgave Walter without even telling him she was upset in the first place. Instead she just grabbed the popcorn bowl and took a piece for herself.

"Walter, it's sweet you're so interested in my interests...but maybe next time you could at least call in to work?" She suggested. Walter's eyes widened at this, and he slapped a hand to his forehead.

"Work! Oh Sergeant Sowell is going to have my butt for this!" He exclaimed, knowing this stunt of his meant the Sergeant was going to reprimand him heavily the next day. And if he even let Walter keep his job, it was going to take a lot of shift covers and skipped lunch breaks to make up for this. June knew this too, having heard enough stories of Sowell from Walter and Wendell to be afraid of a man she had never met, which was why she immediately began brainstorming ideas to get Walter out of hot water. Or at least to lessen the blow. 

"Didn't you say that Wendell bribed Sowell to get out of trouble for being late?" June asked. 

"Yeah, before Sergeant could get on to him, Wendell gave him a gift certificate to Jimboy's Tacos." Walter elaborated, not understanding where June was going with this at first. But once he did, Walter perked up. "Maybe if I do the same thing, he won't tan my hide for this!" 

"Wow, great idea Walter!" June said with sarcasm that Walter didn't pick up on. 

----

"Do you think he's dead, or Sergeant Sowell will keep him alive just long enough to-"

"Wendell you're not helping."

June and Wendell were waiting outside of the Police Department, having watched Walter go inside to speak to Sowell fifteen minutes prior. He had taken a gift certificate to Henry's Hamburgers with him, and all three of them hoped that it would be enough for Walter to keep his job. Or at least to walk out of the Department alive. 

After another few minutes of waiting in silence, the doors opened and Wendell stepped outside. He had an unreadable expression on his face as he put his hat on and walked down the steps, towards an anxious June and Wendell. 

"Well?"

"How did it go?"

Walter swallowed before smiling nervously. "Well...he liked the certificate. And I'm not completely off the hook, but a few extra shifts next week outta be enough to get Serg off my back." He said hopefully. 

June and Wendell both let out sighs of relief. "Way to go Walter." Wendell said as he slapped Walter on the back, grinning. 

"Thanks Wendell. Boy, let's hope I never have to go through something like this again." Walter said with a heavy sigh. 

"As long as you learned your lesson, you shouldn't have to." June assured him as they all began walking in the direction of Walter's apartment. 

"Trust me June, I won't pull a stunt like that ever again." Walter promised. And June believed him, until a few minutes later when she and Wendell realized that at some point they had lost Walter. and turned around to see him with his face a mere inch away from an appliance store window, which had a television on display. And of course, that television was playing Paradise.

"Walter!" June and Wendell snapped, making him snap out of his daze and scurry after them.