#but when she sees how much Rose genuinely loves Dorothy (and how *good* Rose is for her!!) Blanche slowly falls in love with her too

[hecatesbroom]

Apparently, today's brainrot of choice is a Golden Girls Sound of Music AU where Rose is Maria, Dorothy's the Captain, and Blanche is the Baroness, only that one scene where the Baroness visits Maria in her bedroom ends very differently & they end up in a polycule

[eeblouissant]

[Femme!Dorothy anon, this is a long mess and I wish I could articulate myself better because your thiughts are so interesting] yes exactly. Dorothy doesn't want to be associated with anything masculine, and she genuinely is not masculine. She wears the occasional tie and is straightforward and that's it. She is in no way masc in style or behaviour other than being tall with a deep voice. In fact she's very feminine, her style is entirely conventionally on trend femme as a younger woman and as an older woman she is still clearly feminine just not trendily so (her silhouettes are from older decades and her overall style is very unique for the time yet today looks almost proto Boho in certain respects- imagine a modern substitute arts teacher in a getup of hers.). Why it changed is something you nailed, the divorce hit her self esteem hard and I think facing the reality of that plus how she's treated in general drove her from her ideal style, she gets actively laughed at and mocked when she dresses up. So she's retreated to a compromise, a safe style that she feels comfortable in. I can't articulate my thoughts on the change in her whenever she feels nice in a glitzy gown but I know you'll see where I'm trying to go and how important those glimpses are. And to go back to behaviour, this is why I was actually thinking exactly of the scenario you brought up with the strap. She's a feminine woman who has spent most of her life not being seen as either of those things (and then having both tied to a teenaged pregnancy and marriage which is another depressing complication, her femininity and womanhood are by association denigrated as bad choices, moral failings to be redeemed by being a good mother and wife. what does it mean when Stan cheated on her, in this context?). Dorothy wants to be treated as a desirable woman, a lady, and that goes further than wanting to be seen as pretty in a dress. It's also why I think Rose would understand her far easier than Blanche, why I think Blanche would actually trigger her at some point, because Blanche blatantly sees Dorothy as a masculine figure. She puts Dorothy in a protector role, at times almost desexualizes her because of how she's masculinized her. I don't say this as hate, I love Blanche, but Blanche comes from such a specific and different world to the others and its not out of hate that she does it either, it's simply how Dorothy currently fits into her understanding of the world with the tools she's been given. That's really a whole other topic and I don't want to just shove a whole thesis at you that you might not agree with so back to the original point. Yeah, Dorothy wouldn't in a million years want to wear a strap or have a partner assume she wants to lead/top/penetrate. It would be so deeply, deeply humiliating to her in that context and the opposite of healing. You portrayed the exact opposite of this perfectly in your recent fic, you get what her fantasy would be. And I've vomited so many half formed thoughts at you I'm going to stop talking now. The only thing I want to bring up before I shut up is when they're in the Rusty Anchor bathroom because it kills me everytime on so many levels, seeing Blanche wrestle with actually seeing Dorothy as a beautiful feminine woman, how Dorothy clearly understands how Blanche usually sees her, and Dorothy saying she's jealous of Blanche every day of her life because God, that scene is practically this conversation we're having distilled with how the world sees Dorothy and how much pain that causes her. [This message is all over the place and so long. Please feel free to delete it or only quote little parts. It boils down to me thinking you're so right with your headcanons and meta.]

oh anon 🥹🥹🥹 hand in marriage asap because you just get me - oh my god, how could I ever delete or ignore an ask like this !!!!! I absolutely live for your thoughts always (I am in love, seriously, where do I even begin?)

Honestly - and this might be insane so hear me out - would it be too crazy to say that I think those few times when Dorothy does wear elements of a “masculine” outfit, it could possibly be tied back to her own internal struggle with how she presents herself & how she’s perceived? Like, she thinks that maybe the bullying will quit if she gives in and embraces it, if she takes it back and tries to make it something she’s in control of, to try and enjoy something she feels so deeply uncomfortable with (story of her life tbh) because maybe she’ll be able to drown it out then???? are we seeing the vision … just a little thought that came up after reading that first bit, I like angst a normal amount. I feel like there’s definitely a shift away from that “masc energy” as the show goes on but maybe I’m nuts - of course it could have been for many different reasons !!! But I do think it’s mostly a show of growth & shedding those insecurities / stereotypes / etc.

YES !!!!!!!!!! oh my god dorothy fits the 1920s silhouette sooooo soso well & I think that’s what she would say she gravitates toward if asked (on the surface of course. We know by now that the layers & hiding herself is a result of her past and the constant bullying - I do believe that she may also just genuinely find comfort in dressing this way on some level, I don’t think it’s all negative, but it is definitely rooted in insecurity. The fact that she isn’t the bitter type, going on and on about the body she used to have & how she used to look, is kind of shocking to me ? But also a very good example of her gentle nature!!!!! she’s a lot more sensitive and “submissive” than she lets on imo. Very very gentle soul, she is not what she makes people think she is and it’s so devastating to watch her never let that go in canon because we all know she never will.)

Oh my god exactly exactly exactly — like a lady !!!! I’m so glad you brought up Blanche here (and to the blanche enthusiasts, I’m sorry in advance, look away…) because, listen. I have and will always have a problem with the way blanche literally bully’s her constantly & also ropes rose into it a lot ??? like, does dorothy fire back at her just as harshly, yes. Is it (playfully) deserved on both sides sometimes, yes. But holy hell - it seems like every time blanche fires an insult at Dorothy it gets her right in that delicate place because she always puts up her walls so quickly, like she’s genuinely being attacked. And especially having comments like those come from someone like Blanche - the absolute opposite of everything Dorothy has ever been told is wrong with her. Can you even begin to imagine? This has been talked about a few times in the fandom but it’s a subject that makes me especially upset. Blanche is just so unreasonably harsh. I don’t blame Dorothy for some of the things she says to her sometimes I’m sorry 😭🤚🏻. That ep where they were sitting a the table talking about what they’d say at each others eulogy’s , after Blanche said she always felt safe with Dorothy in the house? Yeah, I dont blame her for throwing out that last comment, I would’ve too. Like wow, okay… ( for the record dorothy is not like exempt from also being nasty sometimes, she’s made some insane comments as well 😭)

Blanche most definitely triggers her, many many times we see it!!! It’s so heartbreaking and I could write an essay on the whole subject. And she HAS to be aware of how severe Dorothy’s insecurities are, Blanche is far from oblivious. She’s not stupid, the whole thing is kind of sick. Petition to stop beating Dorothy into the ground please ??????????? Holy hell ???? I absolutely 100% agree with you anon and feel very strongly about the subject. Of the four of them Dorothy gets it the worst idc - it’s sooooooo heartbreaking because she’s the last of them that can handle it, deep down. Yet another topic I could talk about for hours!!!!

I have manyyyyyyyyyyy many things to say on Dorothy’s insecurities playing a massive role in how she views & feels about sex but I’ll save them for my side account, for now know that you are SO correct anon - it absolutely would be humiliating for her (incredible choice of words btw - holy that was so spot on) and would most definitely end in tears. I’ve brought it up five million times now & I promise I’ll shut up until it’s actually published but this is expanded on in the second chapter of that same fic !! Promise to actually post it soon and stop teasing it every other post haha

[loquaciousquark]

If it's not too much to ask, could you recommend some books to read? I really enjoy your fics, so I figure you're a good person to ask! Happy to try pretty much anything. Any length, genre, reading level - just anything you think is worthwhile! Thank you!

Oh man, that’s so kind! I’m always nervous about recommending things, but if nothing else, here are some of my favorites that have absolutely informed my adult tastes.

1. Riddlemaster of Hed trilogy by Patricia McKillip. High fantasy from the 70s with prophecy, romance, and IMO the most beautiful prose I’ve ever read. I’ve talked about how important this series is to me here and here.

2. The Queen’s Thief series by @meganwhalenturner. Six books, and the last one just came out last year. (Hamlet nibbled on the spine while I was at work one day and I just about died.) Historical low fantasy in a Mediterranean-esque setting where cleverness always (usually) wins and the gods are very, very, very real. This was the first book I read where the hero gets genuinely, irreversibly hurt, and watching him love the woman who hurt him and watching her heal after the horror has shaped all of my writing ever since.

3. Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen. My parents gave me a set of this, Sherlock Holmes, and The Odyssey for Christmas when I was about 12, and realizing that people have always been funny and smart and hurtful and proud blew my mind.

4. Gaudy Night by Dorothy Sayers. Tenth in a series of 30s-set detective novels starring Lord Peter Wimsey and his client-turned-love (and eventually -lover) Harriet Vane. Not all of the Wimsey novels feature Harriet, but the five or six that do are some of my favorite writing ever. I stole my use of epigraphs almost entirely from these novels, and there is a great pleasure in reading fiction when you’ve realized the author is so much smarter and well-read than you, and rather than becoming jealous you just lean back sponge-like to soak it in.

5. The Hercule Poirot novels by Agatha Christie. I’ve always loved period detective fiction, and the moustached Belgian is my favorite. I love the setups; I love the general constructions of the plot; I love the glimpses into certain romances (and doomed romances) seen only through Hercule’s & Hastings’s eyes. I love how you can see the early influences of other detective pieces in the early works develop into new and exciting original takes. The Murder of Roger Akroyd is widely considered to be one of the best detective novels ever written, and I vividly remember having my mind blown by some of the revelations.

6. The Grim & Blackthorn trilogy by Juliet Marillier. Irish-inspired historical fantasy, this trilogy came with me on my recent trip to Chicago, and as @silksieve, @eponymous-rose, and @fistfulofgammarays can attest, it was a high struggle for me not to gorge myself on them back to back. I finished the first book just as my plane landed in Chicago, and the wholly involuntary gasp I gave at a certain revelation made my seatmate laugh, which of course meant I had to sit there and explain to her why the sentence I’d just read changed EVERYTHING. @jadesabre301 recommended these to me because she thought I’d love them, and she was right. Tons of hurt/comfort; it could even be argued that all three books are a slow comfort after the horrifying hurt of the first two chapters of the first book.

Hopefully this at least gives you a starting point! I’m not reading as much as I’d like to these days, but these are perennial favorites.

[lady-plantagenet]

What are your top ten novels about the Wars of the Roses? And why?

I think it’s obvious by the length how enthusiastic I was to answer this ask xx thank you for asking me and giving me also an opportunity to make a masterlist of some sorts of all my reviews xx. But you know? I speak like quite the expert but in reality I’ve read very little histfic about TWOTR because I just newly got back into this hobby (about a year ago) and have little time in general so tbh the last three books on this list I do not personally care for but since I’ve read so little novels of this kind they are here nonetheless hhh (so please people, give me no angry asks asking me why I am endorsing PG, I’m not).

1. The Last of the Barons by Lord Edward Lytton-Bulwer

This is quite possibly the best book I’ve ever read in my life. The gap between these books and the rest is a chasm the size of the world and I wpuld genuinely reccomend this book as an actual piece of literature to anyone, not just TWOTR fanatics. It is written in 1840, in quite old timey lingo and it centres around Richard Neville 16th Earl of Warwick, but in the true tradition of a real classic it is more than just a character drama, it astutely showcases the purpose of Warwick and what he did in the context of his wider world and doesn’t just chalk it up to personal greed. There is also this fascinating subplot about courtship, science and such. Hell, you even get this eccentric ‘natural philosopher’ guy called Adam Warner who tries to make something like a steam engine and gets employed as an alchemist by Jacquetta and Edward IV.

From a historical standpoint it is quite biased as the author himself was a politician (and an actual baron) and tbh I don’t completely agree with his interpretation of history and I can see some of the Victorian inluences slip in, but some of his takes are very refreshing and he clearly consulted the primary sources. I am much interested in his philosophy and life outlook though and while I don’t think his Warwick is the Warwick, I think he (Lytton-Bulwer) understood him like no other novelist could. As for the writing style... here’s an excerpt of a good reads review that I agree with and tells you all you need to know:

“Of course, such a style of writing no longer exists. The language used is essentially foreign to us. But the nobility, the pride of this story work their ways into your bones, your heart. You will yearn for honor once you have left it.“

Basically, go type it into google and see what I mean. You don’t even need to purchase this book it’s all online at the first click on Gutenberg.

Nevertheless, I’ve posted excerpts of it here, here and here =)

2. The King’s Grey Mare by Rosemary Hawley Jarman

This book (unlike the latter) has zero actual historical value. Actually, it sort of does in the way that it hilights certain real events that most people are unaware of when it comes to its protagonist: Elizabeth Woodville, eg the whole Cooke tapestry affair and the whole Desmond affair. Both things which I still stand on the fence about (if you don’t know what I’m talking about send em another ask or pm me). But like, it isn’t political, philosophical or such in any way like the first book, yet you still feel like you are *there* in the 15th century - by the time I finished reading it my heart was wrung dry and I kind of fell into a down for a couple of days because I just wanted to feel the magic again. If anyone would ask me I would give this 5 stars because it perfectly achieved what it set out to do (I can’t expect all books to go above and beyond like #1), it made me feel for the characters who were super complex, was accurate historically and even when it wasn’t it made sense, it got very creative with its themes (which I like to see because I am not interested in reading the exact same story over and over again) and the prose was absolutely magical and brought all the depth to this novel. I’ve read classics with less flowing and poignant prose, yes actual classics!

This book also switches POVs quite a lot (basically it headhops because it’s written in omniscient- but whatever, rules are meant to be broken), so you’ll get to see many of your faves in there, Edward IV, Margaret of Anjou and Grace Plantagenet feature quite heavily. One thing that disappointed me is that it wasn’t really Edward IV/Elizabeth Woodville (at the time I bought it for that), she never really likes him and his love for her kind of wanes towards the end. If you’re not too bothered about that then I say go buy it.

3. The Daisy and the Bear by K L Clark

I put this here because we are already going into shakier territory when it comes to this list. This is kind of the last *really* good, truly five star one. It is a long spoof about TWOTR but god it’s smart! Yet, It does not take itself seriously and has Margaret of Anjou/Warwick the Kingmaker as a crackship and centrepiece and had me in stitches the whole time. I’ve written a long detailed review for it here.

4. Death be Pardoner to Me by Dorothy Davies

This is a novel about George Duke of Clarence. Quite possibly the only novel ever written about him in existence and boy is it a trip - the author claims to have channelled him (she’s a medium). I’ve written a detailed review for it here. I read this last spring and my views have unfortunately changed, the thing is, I’ve come to find out through my research that this was quite possibly a hoax as there are some indisputable inaccuracies (Ankarette Twynyho’s age, the details of Isabel’s death - we *know* she did not die from childbirth, Isabel did not reunite with him after Tewksbury 1471, but right before Christmas 1470). It’s also quite Richardian (the author admitted) and she could have *had* me had she not chose to divulge it in the foreword. Nevertheless, I still like this book because it did get to me at certain points and it’s good quality as a novel, I remember shedding a tear at one point even which is extremely rare for me but I think that says more about my sentiment for the subject matter than the book itself.

5. We Speak no Treason by Rosemary Hawley Jarman (not yet finished, so ranking may vary)

I haven’t finished it yet, so I’ll leave it here for now. This book is a Richardian book about Richard III, but I can’t get enough of this author, I haven’t found anyone to replace her with. The prose is magnificent as usual and I must confess that I’m happy that this book is told through the POVs of three OCs and not Richard, he remains rather elusive and tbf I find the three OCs very interesting and at this point I’m more interested in their stories than anything else. Of course, Richard III is still a fairly prominent part of this novel (even when he doesn’t appear) and it has led to me getting annoyed quite a bit. Given who I am I fumed massively at that one aside that Clarence and Edward have bastards whereas Richard isn’t like that... like are you serious?? At one point the author reassociated the Games and Playes Chesse book to Richard when it was in reality dedicated to Clarence and I got even more annoyed. Leave the poor figure something ma’am? Whatever, as a book about three medieval commoners it’s fantastic and that’s what I pretend it is.

6. Wife to the Kingmaker by Sandra Wilson

Nothing more to add than what I wrote in my (super-long) detailed review on here. This is the case because I read it very recently. This is a novel about Anne Beauchamp 16th Countess of Warwick, it’s ranked higher than Sunne because though it’s less accurate it’s got panache.

7. The Sunne in Splendour by Sharon K Penman

I feel very strongly about this Richard III book and what it represents. I wrote a long detailed review about it on here and a follow-up post on the discussion is here ft my awesome mutual @beardofkamenev ‘s insights also thrown into the mix. Xx

8. The White Queen by Philippa Gregory

This is a step higher than the other two because this book pretty much changed my life. The thing is, I read it translated into my own language by an extremely talented translator and I was also only about 11/12 years old so it was all very impressive to me then. This book about Elizabeth Woodville effectively introduced me to the TWOTR; an interest that has never really left me these past ten years (though at one point (ages 14-19) it was quite wane). It’s not a good book by any standard (I was quite shocked when picking it up at a bookstore, I had found that when read in the original language it lost all its magic), but I owe a lot to it and some people who now endlessly discourse about how bad PG is need to recognise their debt of gratitude and be a bit more respectful, I think. That is of course unless you came into this era via different media, but you got to admit that a massive part of us got to this place through TWQ, though we outgrew it.

10. The Red Queen and The Kingmaker’s Daughter by Philippa Gregory

Exact same commentary as above, just objectively not good books. Flat characterisation, misunderstanding of the era, historical innacuracies which don’t add anything, lack of nuance in prose which often dances too close to *gasp* YA prose *shudders*. But these are lower because I don’t owe them a debt of gratitude as I do TWQ. Funnily enough, they are still better than the series.

[theawkwardterrier]

The Shops on Shield Street

Steggy Week 2k20, day 4 Prompt: AUs and crossover

Summary: Running a small business is already hard enough without someone trying to sabotage things.

AO3 link here. Thanks to @steggyfanevents​ for organizing!

The first time Peggy visits Steve’s shop is the day he opens.

Working just down the street, she’s spent the past few months watching the renovations at what had been most recently been a short-lived scented candle business. When the new signs and awnings had gone up naming it as Shield Street Books, she’d been further intrigued; she’s seen various stores come and go through the space, but a bookshop is new. Now, on her lunch break, she takes the opportunity to go visit.

She looks over the front windows first: the right-hand side is filled with buzzy new releases and bestsellers for adults, the left with books for younger readers. The windows themselves are painted with a colorful but subtle border of books on the right, while the left side features lovely illustrations of Wild Things marauding across the bottom, a mockingjay pin hidden along the side, a Little Prince floating among the stars at the top, and a web reading “Some Pig” in the corner. The chalk sign reads “Grand opening” on one side and “Ask us about our events!” on the other.

Peggy is cautiously optimistic as she steps in, a cheerful little bell jingling as she does. The space isn’t cavernous but it’s large enough, and the high ceilings, big front windows, light wood flooring and shelves, and friendly gray-green walls make it seem more open. The checkout is easily visible, a chalkboard wall above it featuring a listing of upcoming book club meetings, a coffee and cookies social series, and a reading by a local poet (Peggy supposes that you have to be a bit more established to start getting better-known names).

The front area has all the typical souvenirs everyone around here sells - magnets, mugs, pens, postcards - along with fancier or more specifically bookish things like scarves, tote bags, and book weights which seem to be attracting some good attention. A few people are looking at the cookbooks and coffee table books lining the walls and stacked on tables nearby, and she can see browsers in the labeled aisles spanning out into the main area of the store: mystery, biography and memoir, young adult, politics, each with an appropriate, particularly-styled illustration. A sign pointing downstairs advertises a used book area, as well as a gallery and event space. She breathes in the scent of fresh wood and words on paper, officially impressed.

She is examining a table just before the aisles which is covered with a display of staff favorites when a voice behind her says, “I love that one.”

Turning with the copy of My Favorite Thing Is Monsters still in hand, she encounters the man who until now she’s only seen at a distance, occasionally ducking in and out of the store while it was under construction. He’s tall and blond, with broad shoulders beneath his heather gray T-shirt, plain except for a small, oddly-rendered sketch of a pale turquoise bird in side profile and showing one large eye. She tries not to let on how distracted she is by the hint of a darkly-inked tattoo peeking out from the bottom of his sleeve; his blue eyes are watching her clearly from behind a pair of thick-framed glasses.

“I’m sorry?” she asks politely, trying not to let on that she’s slightly lost the thread of how things started.

“That’s a great book. I love it,” he offers, shrugging awkward shoulders although his smile is still lovely and genuine. “Although it’s not too surprising seeing as I’m most of the staff here, so the table’s pretty much stacked with books I love.”

“You must be the new owner then,” Peggy says, putting out a hand. “Congratulations. I’m Peggy Carter. I run Top Shelf Tea and Coffee up the street.”

“Steve Rogers, good to meet you." He shakes with her, then gestures to the book she’s still holding in her other hand. “Are you browsing for yourself, or just over here to check out the new neighbors?”

“I think I can do both quite handily,” she says, smiling back at him. “Though I don’t typically read graphic novels. Perhaps you can recommend something else?”

Nothing precisely shifts about his posture, but she suddenly has the sense that he’s more settled on his heels, focused even more intently on her. “What do you typically read?”

“Very little, of late,” she admits, making a bit of a face. “I used to read quite a bit of mystery - Gothic, classics, noir, Agatha Christie, Tana French, and my favorites were those where you get suspense and a good story but a good sentence too. But with everything on my plate, I’m lucky if I can get through a half chapter before I go to sleep.”

“Sure.” He crosses his arms, which does nice things for his muscles, as well as showing off an extra sneaking bit of his tattoo. Watching him think, she has the sudden feeling that she’s in very good hands. And, when he rings up a collection of P.D. James short stories and one originally published in Swedish called An Elderly Lady Is Up to No Good (“With your schedule, it might be easier to enjoy a little section over a night or two rather than trying to force yourself to make it through a hefty novel”) along with a copy of Dorothy B. Hughes’s In a Lonely Place that he’d tracked down in the used book section (“It’s not long, and it’s dark, smart, psychological noir”) it seems she’s right.

Peggy is not behind the counter when Steve shows up at her shop the next day, but she comes out from the back when she recognizes his voice ordering the house blend coffee.

“I had expected you to have more of an opinion than that,” she teases as she walks through from the kitchen with a tray of fresh scones to load into the display case and finds him waiting to pick up his drink. He’s come in past the commuter crush and before the lunch rush, but even with Peggy’s staff working quickly and efficiently as usual there’s enough of a wait to guarantee a moment to chat. “I certainly anticipated your drink of choice would be something with minimal fuss, but I would have guessed at something with a bit more imagination at least.”

He laughs. “I’m just trying to get the lay of the land here, and the house blend is how I know what kind of joint you’re running here.” Rose places a cup labeled “Steve!” on the counter, smiling at him before she twirls away again. He picks it up, takes in the steam rising through the lid, smiling as he does. “It smells good. But when you name your place ‘Top Shelf,’ you have some pretty high expectations to meet,” he warns, smile still flickering around his mouth.

“Don’t worry.” She leans over the counter toward him. “The expectations are exactly where I want them.”

His eyes widen after the first sip and he takes a second before he’s even swallowed. “You were right. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“I know,” she says plainly. “And my true expertise is with the tea. Try the Irish blend next time you’re here, or a cinnamon rooibos latte if you’re feeling adventurous.”

His eyes smile over the top of the cup and he takes another sip. “I guess I’ll have to keep coming back with so much to try.”

“I suppose you will,” she says, trying to sound friendly but casual when she adds, “And I’ve finished two of the stories in the P.D. James, so I might have to come back for more recommendations soon.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” he tells her. This time, even with the clamor of people waiting behind him or skirting huffily around to pick up drinks, he isn’t smiling, he’s grinning.

By the time Steve drops in one afternoon eight months later, he is a very familiar sight. Daniel wraps one of the enormous seasonal apple-cinnamon muffins as soon as he walks through the door then waits for him to order a drink - the staff knows that while Steve certainly has favorites on the drinks menu, he changes between them often enough to keep things interesting. (He always orders a muffin, though: apple-cinnamon in autumn, blueberry the rest of the year.)

Usually they don’t have time for lengthy chats during the day considering the crowds at Top Shelf and the customers and part-timers waiting for Steve to return over at Shield Street, but today when Peggy comes out to say a brief hello, she finds Steve sitting at one of the tables. The small tilt of his head as their eyes meet is enough for her to slide the proposal she’s reading about switching dairy providers into her pocket and walk over to sit with him. The little two-seater he’s picked is away from the large front windows, and she seats herself in the comfortable leather armchair across from him with a feeling of relative privacy.

“Is something wrong?” she asks. Steve’s doing well enough as far as she knows: Shield Street seems often to buzz with foot traffic and they’ve been promoting their online store, there is a solid slate of events and programs including the coffee and cookies socials for which he sources the refreshments from Top Shelf, there was a lovely recent write-up in the local paper, and he’s even been able to hire a full time employee other than himself. Still, she knows entirely too well that the life of a small business owner can be somewhat exacting and stressful. Small mistakes in ordering stock or taking on a bit too much can be enormously costly, and even when you’ve done everything correctly, factors outside your control can conspire against you without much of anything to serve as protection. Steve’s tense expression mirrors the way she sometimes felt in the first few years after she’d opened - and still does today, if she’s being honest.

He sips his tea slowly, and she can tell it’s not because he’s finally remembering her advice about allowing the flavors to settle.

“There was a guy in at the store this afternoon,” he says finally. “Stuck around a long time, looked in every corner, and then didn’t buy anything. But I overheard him on the phone when I was coming over here.” He looks up at her, eyes somewhere between hard and stricken. “Peggy, I think he’s from Hydra.”

The common wisdom is that the largest threat to small businesses are superstores and online giants, the franchises of the world which can spring up on every corner or be available at a moment’s notice, backed by large pools of money that leave them free to take risks and undercut other vendors, offering brand recognition to customers across large areas without being tied by communal or ethical bonds to any of the places they land.

Hydra, a business conglomerate few had actually heard of, took the pushback against big chains and used that for its own ends. Rather than focusing on any single industry, or even establishing Hydra brand all-in-one stores, their model was to sweep in to buy various local businesses and keep their original names, or to establish seemingly innocuous storefronts without any stated connection to Hydra. But while people thought they were shopping locally and supporting their own neighbors, helping to maintain healthy competition and a diversity of business, mass-produced goods would slowly replace the higher quality ones, workplace regulations would be flouted while employees were scared into silence by the power of the corporate owners, and money would flow out of communities and into Hydra’s distant and ever-deepening pockets. Steve and Peggy kept their finger on the pulse of the small business world, and they had read stories online, often later hastily retracted or swiftly vanished, stories of small towns and cities across the country where, within a few years, whole streets full of businesses that seemed to be independently-run and community-owned were actually just cheery facades under one corporate umbrella.

And now Hydra was here. Peggy thought about the shops between her business and Steve’s: the florist, the hardware store, the brewpub, the rare family-owned pharmacy, the ice cream parlor which is part of a beloved local chain, the independent movie theater, the places on other streets in their town which sold toys and art supplies and comics and shoes.

Behind her, the door opens. A squat, balding man enters, grandfatherly dapper with a suit, a bow tie, round glasses, all undercut by the coldness in his gaze. He looks around at what Peggy has built - the scattered tables and cozily diverse seating options from armchairs to stools to window seats, the carefully hung plants, the racks of magazines and stacks of available books which Steve has selected for her, the displays of art by students from the nearby universities, her talented staff, and of course her carefully curated menu - and writes something brief in a small notebook. He steps up to the counter to order.

“That’s him,” she says to Steve, barely a question. “That’s who you saw.” He nods, looking down into his mug, fingers tight around the solid pottery. Peggy remembers picking out these cups, sorting through dozens of listings until she found the exact ones she wanted: an entire range of colors, big enough for a good serving size and for wrapping hands around, but not awkward to sip at.

“If it is them,” she says, knuckles clenching beneath the table, “we won’t let them win.”

Steve looks up at her; the smile on his face is wan, not up to the usual brightness she looks forward to, but it’s the first one she’s seen at all from him today. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

The man approaches Steve first, introducing himself as Arnim Zola. He’s done his homework, knows about the finances of the shop and about Steve’s personal finances as well, from the loans he’s taken out to the fact that his mother had barely anything to leave him when she died.

“You’re a smart businessman, Mr. Rogers, I have seen that quite well. Though you might have good growth now, who knows what tomorrow might bring? Selling now and taking the money which comes with the offer, that is the smart business decision.”

And Steve, for whom courtesy is not second nature but first, has trouble turning him down with a “no thank you,” rather than a “piss off.”

Zola seems to hear it anyway, but he overcomes the spasm of anger with a smile. “I will be happy to speak to you later, if anything happens to change your mind. As I said, there is quite a lot of unreliability in business ownership.”

A pipe bursts in the back of the store that night, even though they’d all been replaced as part of the renovation. A good chunk of inventory gets soaked. Peggy walks past the next morning to find Steve putting the less damaged material out on a rack to sell at a steep discount. He tells her what happened with barely concealed fury in his throat. They hadn’t heard about Hydra deliberately driving owners to sell, but neither of them is exactly surprised.

Peggy goes to work for the next few days with her head full of rage and incipient plans. When Zola comes to request a meeting and make his case later in the week, she turns him down so sweetly that it takes a minute for him to understand that it had even happened.

She’s never had Steve over to her little flat above Stewart’s Sandwich Spot, but after a few days of working across the empty tables of Top Shelf or cramming into Steve’s office after they’ve locked up for the night, she invites him to join her.

“I had concerns about pests and odors when I first came,” she says as they climb the narrow back stairs single-file, “but I’ll have lived here five years this January and haven’t had a problem with either. In fact, waking up to the scent of their fresh bread every day is quite the bonus.”

“Plus you can pick up dinner on your way in.” Steve’s voice behind her is teasing, though accurate, as he’s currently holding the bag with the food they’d bought three minutes ago: a Tipsy Texan for her and his Peter Paul Ruben along with several orders of the fries which Peggy promises are outstanding.

She’s right. The agreed-upon brief break for sandwiches spirals into experimentation as to which of the various dipping options is the best for the french fries, then into conversation about places they’ve traveled and the best foods they ate there. Peggy backpacked a bit after university, and still tries to take a bit of vacation when she can. Steve, she finds out for the first time, was in the army and was deployed several times.

“The guys I went over with, we all came home,” he says quietly. They’ve gotten into the wine at this point. “We all got these together.” He stretches down the collar of his shirt enough for her to see some very nice muscles as well as a tattoo: concentric red and white circles with a blue center marked by a star. The outermost circle reads “107th Regiment.”

“What is the one on your arm?” she asks before she can stop herself. He chuckles and lifts his sleeve where she can now see the words clearly inked in black around his bicep: “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit,” ended by an ellipses trailing from black to gray to white.

“My mom used to read Tolkien out loud at bedtime,” he explains. “And I still think about the way that one sentence opened up a whole world, a whole life, for me.”

She pours a touch more into her glass, shifting her feet up onto the sofa beside herself. “You’ve always loved reading, then?”

“Yeah. Back when I was growing up, if I wasn’t really sick, I was just getting through being sick or getting started being sick again. All that time in bed, I needed a lot to read; I was always going through the big stack of books next to my bed, or listening to some audiobook on my old Discman. When I was doing okay, I used to go talk to the librarians, and I was around so much that eventually I started volunteering there.”

He chews through one of the last remaining fries, cold now. “When I got discharged, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with myself. All I could think of was how good books made me feel, how important they were for me, how I could help put them in the hands of others. And then one day I was walking by, saw the For Sale sign on the space, noticed that the street sign said Shield, and just knew.” He shrugs. “There are small business loans aimed at vets, and my friend Bucky went into construction after we came back, helped me put the place together the way I wanted it.”

“And all that starting with one little hobbit,” she says with a smile. She pushes her hair back, feeling flushed and a bit young.

He leans against the back of the couch. “How about you? What made you decide to open Top Shelf?”

“Spite,” she answers promptly, making him laugh. “It’s entirely true. I wish I could tell you some sweet story about my grandmother bringing me to a tea shop every Saturday back when I was a girl, but I wouldn’t lie to you. The fact of it is that my mother accepted my coming to university in the States, but as I was finishing my degree, she became quite adamant about my doing graduate work to enter into law or finance. I had little interest in either, and didn’t want simply to put in the investment because she was forcing me.

“At the same time, I had a part-time job at a coffee shop where the owner was the worst sort of boss: constantly critical without any actual suggestions for improvement or true understanding of daily operations, unwilling to make necessary changes or updates, over- and under-scheduling the staff at a whim. Finally I told him that in one day I could have the place running better than he ever could, at which point he started fuming that doing his job was harder than I could imagine, and fired me. By that evening, when my mother called once more to have a ‘little chat about my future,’ I told her that I had started a business plan and would be opening a tea and coffee shop as soon as possible.”

“How did she take it?” His voice is softer. Somehow they’ve moved closer together on the sofa. With his arm draped along the back, his fingertips graze the gauzy sleeve of her blouse.

“She shouted at me, hung up, and refused to speak to me for several days, but that just gave me time to become more confident and knowledgeable by the time she called next.”

“And you succeeded.”

“I did.” She stops herself from leaning into him the way that she wants to. She might get a bright rush hearing his voice at the counter during the day, might drop by his shop for a new book even while she already has several still waiting at home, might relish this extra time to discover the thoughtful, generous, opinionated details of him of which she’s seen captivating hints over the past months, but they have a purpose here. She clears her throat, steadies herself. “I succeeded, and I mean to keep what I’ve made.”

It’s after midnight when Steve finally goes home. She tries to tell herself that it’s a shame that they didn’t really have a chance to work on their strategy, but when it means that they come back to her house the next night, and go to his the night after, she can’t be truly upset.

As a business owner and a town resident of over half a decade, Peggy has been to a council meeting or two in her time. But she prepares for tonight with special attention, leaving the shop early enough to take a longer than usual shower. She chooses a recently purchased top - navy with silver and pale blue detailing, a flattering silhouette, and a modest V-neck - and adds makeup with more than her usual care. She finishes with her usual scarlet lip and, taking in the finished product, nods firmly, picks up her bag, and goes to meet Steve.

He arrives at nearly the same time, and they take seats together in the center of the town hall meeting room.

“A good turnout,” Peggy says quietly, glancing around. “And look who’s here as well.”

Zola sits in the back of the room, quietly taking things in. She suspects that keeping abreast of town news is a part of his job. Hopefully he will be earning his salary tonight.

Most of the agenda is spent on the typical dull dealings: a proposal to change the language on parking citations is taken up and passed, followed by a bit of a tussle over the budget, then it’s on to a rousing discussion about recent changes to state alcohol legislation and the impact on local restaurants. At least the recognition ceremony for two teenagers who rescued a man drowning in the nearby lake is touching and breaks the monotony.

“And finally,” Chester Phillips, the head of the council, grumbles. He’s clearly very much past ready to adjourn. “We have an item put forward by Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers. An item very recently put forward,” he adds, shooting a glance at Peggy. The official deadline for getting onto the agenda is 24 hours in advance, but Peggy knows that the secretary, Miriam Fry, usually prints and posts things a bit early. While their proposal came in just under the deadline, the agenda had already been publicized; Peggy wanted as much of an element of surprise as she could muster to avoid sabotage.

“Good evening.” Peggy starts them off. “As many of you know, I own Top Shelf Tea and Coffee on Shield Street. I’ve been so pleased by the welcome the town has given to myself and my shop over the past several years, and I wanted to come forward tonight to raise awareness of something which has been recently affecting our local business community.”

She knows her points well after running through them with Steve for the last few nights. Without referencing notes, she smoothly and carefully explains Hydra’s background and the way their business model has caused trouble for other communities. The articles she references, entered conscientiously into the record, might be smaller pieces, but they are from reputable and reliable news outlets; Bruce Banner, the reference librarian, had helped them put together the resources with that in mind.

“Mr. Rogers and myself have received offers to purchase our businesses. We would also request that that council hear from others who have also been under recent pressure to sell.” Peggy gestures over her shoulder, where a good-sized part of the assembled crowd is standing, ready to come forward.

“Before we get to that, is there an actual proposal attached to all of this?” Alexander Pierce asks. He’s a popular, long-serving council member, distinguished and seemingly considerate, but there’s a strange hint of ice in his voice, in the blue-gray of his eyes, that makes Peggy suspect who exactly put the town on Hydra’s radar and why they seemed so certain that they would be able to work with impunity.

“Our proposal is a council resolution simply acknowledging the remarks made here today,” Steve says, the words not loud but quite firm. “It isn’t the council’s responsibility or within their authority to prevent private sales between willing parties, but we want to make certain that everyone in this town knows the coercive measures Hydra has taken in the past and will almost certainly take in the future in order to gain and maintain control of local businesses.”

He takes a breath, pushing up his glasses reflexively before he speaks. “I opened my store more recently than Ms. Carter did hers, but I’ve also felt lucky to have been able to support and be supported by this community over the past months. Moving here and opening my business has given me something I never thought I would find.” His gaze moves, for just a moment, from the council in front of them, to Peggy, who is watching from beside him. Their eyes meet so quickly she nearly wonders whether it even happened before he turns back to conclude, “I have no intention of giving up my business. And we want everyone to know that we are willing to continue fighting for however long we have to.”

“Now I—” Pierce started, but Nick Fury, a council member who rarely speaks and who Peggy knows always gets his coffee first thing in the morning to avoid running into anyone trying to discuss council issues, leans forward so his microphone picks up his words clearly.

“I’d actually like to hear from our fellow citizens, Alex,” he says, and nods for the first speaker to go ahead.

The comments last for a long while. Some people speak only briefly about being approached by Zola or other Hydra representatives, bombarded with testimonials from business owners from other towns who sold to Hydra in the past. Others have lengthy (and well documented, Peggy made sure of that) stories of escalating problems and harassment: health or building code inspectors being called and finding minor or suddenly appearing violations, delayed shipments from previously reliable vendors, spontaneous problems with heating or cooling systems.

Someone from the local paper always covers council meetings, and she’s sitting in the front row scribbling away for what will undoubtedly be a far different article than usual. But news travels fast, and as the hours march onward, more and more of their fellow townspeople squeeze into the meeting room to hear things for themselves.

Steve and Peggy expected it, but as the last of the business owners moves aside, they trade a glance seeing Arnim Zola step up to the podium.

“In my capacity as a representative of Hydra, I would like to officially demand that minutes and records of this meeting be restricted pending a defamation lawsuit which the corporation will be bringing,” he says, eyes flashing behind his glasses. The words are so practiced that Peggy feels her suspicions about the fight against Hydra in other places nearly confirmed.

“Those are a matter of public record,” Mrs. Fry says sternly. Peggy smiles. They don’t always see eye to eye, but she knew that Miriam could be relied upon to protect the integrity of the process.

Fury adds laconically, “And it will be a little difficult to put the genie back in the bottle.” He looks over everyone’s heads to the back of the room, and raises his voice to ask, “Live stream still running smoothly, Stark?”

Tony Stark, the teenaged son of the municipal head of IT, barely looks up from his phone as he gives a thumbs up. “Directly on the town website, YouTube, and Twitter, plus a few backup sites I’ve set up just in case. And I’ve been live-tweeting the whole time. First council meeting that’s ever been even close to interesting enough for me to even want to do that.” He leans back in his chair, feet up on the table and fingers typing rapidly.

The calculation is clear across Zola’s face. Leaning into the aisle so he can hear her, Peggy says quietly, “If you still manage to convince someone to sell, there’s little we can do to stop you. But you can see the town turning against the idea of you, and any of the usual tricks you try to pull will only make it worse. I doubt you’d ever be able to make a success of things here. I would cut your losses now, Mr. Zola. Everyone knows who and what you are. You can’t hide in the shadows anymore.”

Zola leaves before the resolution passes. Although they keep an eye out for him over the next weeks, they don’t see a sign of him again.

They have the other business owners over for a drink down in the event space at Steve’s shop. It was already late when the meeting finally adjourned, and it is even later once the last person - Thor, who owns the Norseman brewpub and is still laughing heartily at a story told by Luis from the electronics repair store - closes the door behind him.

“I wanted to tell Sam to take the morning off,” Steve says as they tidy things up, “but I have the feeling we’ll be even busier than usual tomorrow.”

Peggy smiles, collecting the empty bottles in a paper bag for recycling. “I think he’ll forgive you when he sees it reflected in his paycheck.”

Steve glances over the used book shelves, making sure they’re all orderly, switching a few around to keep things alphabetized. “If this keeps up, maybe I can have Nat and Wanda full time soon.” With one last glance at the shelf, he goes over and drops tiredly into one of the chairs that they have yet to fold and put away. There are plenty of other places to sit, but Peggy comes and turns a chair so she’s facing him. Their knees are nearly touching.

“I hadn’t realized quite how tense I was until the weight was removed tonight,” she says softly, just for him. “And while I know that we should stay alert and that complacency works against us, it will be such a delight to go into the shop tomorrow without feeling as if ruin was coming up on the horizon.”

“You deserve that,” Steve says, and somewhere over their work together, they’ve become comfortable enough that he already has her hand in his and she didn’t even notice until just now. “And even if they regroup fast, we’ll have a day or two to catch our breath before we start putting out resources for other communities dealing with Hydra.”

That familiar determination is back in his voice, and she realizes that so much of him is familiar now. She knows that his glasses are the last hint of the poor health which plagued him growing up, has seen pictures of his mother and recognizes where he inherited his fair hair and strong features. She has seen his tattoos and knows what he wanted to memorialize on his skin.

Looking him over, she sees that sometime after the meeting he has changed into a T-shirt that she recognizes.

“That was what you were wearing the day we met,” she says. “What made you choose it for your opening?”

He glances down. “It’s the Pigeon, from the Mo Willems series. Popular picture books, ” he explains. “I know that I can be a little intimidating for the kids, and I wanted something that would be familiar and friendly, something we could talk about together so they could get to know me and wouldn’t be as nervous.”

It’s such a simple answer, so unsurprising and considerate and right, so Steve. She frees her fingers from his so she can hold his face in her hands.

“You’re a very dear man,” she informs him, and presses her mouth to his.

Quite a while later, as Steve finally turns the lights off in his shop, finally put to rights, he asks, “Are you free again tomorrow night? I’d like to take you out somewhere that doesn’t serve sandwiches.”

“I won’t mention it at Stewart’s.” She tucks herself under his arm as they step into the cool of the street and he turns to lock up.

He laughs. “They don’t have to worry much. I’m sure we’ll be back.”

“I’m certain we will, though perhaps Thai for tomorrow,” she says thoughtfully as they walk. “But come to the shop sometime earlier, will you?” A grin is growing on her face. “I have some ideas I want to discuss about unseating Mr. Pierce at the next election that I’m not sure are proper date conversation.”

“My definition of date conversation is whatever you want to talk about,” he says, his voice never anything but honest. “But sure, I’ll come by tomorrow. I can’t get through the day without your latest matcha concoction, and I want to hear what you have planned for Pierce.” His grin is growing to match hers. “Whatever it is, I wouldn’t bet against us.”

[rachelkaser]

Stay Golden Sunday: Big Daddy

Blanche’s Southern gentleman father visits with unusual news. Sophia curses a neighbor.

Picture It...

Sophia and Dorothy meet in the kitchen the morning after a big storm. Sophia is cranky because Rose woke her up, afraid and wanting comfort. All four Girls meet in the living room, where Blanche excitedly explains that her father, who she calls Big Daddy (who everyone calls Big Daddy, in fact), is coming for a visit. She excitedly reminisces about how beloved he was by her community growing up, getting caught in her remembrances of her saccharine Southern upbringing (which Dorothy finds ridiculous). Blanche hurries out to go get gifts for him.

Rose goes out to the lanai, and calls out for Sophia and Dorothy. They find that the storm has knocked a tree down on to their lanai furniture. Their next-door neighbor, Mr. Barton enters and notices the tree. When Rose says it’s fortunate his tree didn’t fall on his house instead, he takes exception to it being “his.” He refuses to move the tree despite Mrs. Barton’s attempts to smooth over the situation. When he makes a derisive remark about “you Italians” to Dorothy and Sophia, the latter gives him the Evil Eye. He’s now cursed until he moves the tree. Mr. Barton scoffs and leaves with his wife.

DOROTHY: Oh Ma, why’d you do that? You just made matters worse with that ridiculous curse. SOPHIA: Ridiculous? The curse works. Believe me. I’ve used it before. DOROTHY: Oh, when? SOPHIA: Baltimore Colts, New York Jets, 1969. Draw your own conclusions.

The next day, Dorothy says she’s confirmed via their property map that the tree definitely belongs to Mr. Barton and he has to haul it away, though Sophia still things the curse will do the trick. Blanche emerges in a mint-colored Southern Belle gown, but when she answers the door, it’s Mr. Barton. He’s convinced Sophia slashed his tires, and refuses to move the tree. Dorothy opens the door in a fury after Mr. Barton storms out, only to see Big Daddy Hollingsworth, in a Colonel Sanders suit with a ten-gallon hat on.

Blanche excitedly introduces everyone to her father. Big Daddy pays great compliments to Rose, who he compares to Dinah Shore (which... yeah, I can see it); and to Sophia, who he praises for her stunning, classical “Eye-talian” beauty. (Sophia: “You need boots to listen to this guy.”) He tells Blanche he has a surprise for her: He’ll be singing at a club the next night. Blanche is stunned, and asks why he’d do that, and he says singing is his “calling.” After he leaves, Blanche worries at his apparently out-of-character behavior, and Dorothy encourages her to talk to him instead of jumping to conclusions.

BLANCHE: I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation for why my daddy’s lost the stuffing out of his comforter.

Big Daddy returns that night, and Blanche is waiting up to talk to him. He effuses about how much he loves singing, and plays her one of his own compositions. It’s a genuinely terrible song that leaves Blanche cringing. When he finishes, she tells him this sudden career change concerns her, and tells him to go home and rest. He reveals that he sold their family home to fund his singing career, and Blanche explodes, forbidding him from continuing with his schemes. Big Daddy takes exception, and yells back until the other Girls come in. He apologizes to them and leaves the house.

Blanche is still upset and tells the Girls her father’s really gone off the deep end, selling the property he spent his lifetime building. As the Girls drift into the kitchen, Blanche is having trouble reconciling that her father is no longer the pillar he once was and has reached an age where they need to start thinking about his mental health. Dorothy and Rose comfort her, with Rose reminiscing about a time her father pulled a tuna-shaped parade float up a hill singlehandedly while dressed as a jar of mayonnaise. Blanche says her dad’s always been there to take care of her, and now she’ll have do the same for him.

BIG DADDY: You know, if there was some rain coming down, and a soft train whistle in the distance, this moment would have the makings of a first-rate country song.

The next night, Blanche, Rose, and Dorothy are off to see Big Daddy’s show at the Sagebrush Club -- Sophia declines when invited. Mr. and Mrs. Barton arrive, and Mr. Barton is a mess, asking to see “the witch.” He begs Sophia on his knees to remove the Curse, as he’s suffered several other inexplicable misfortunes. Sophia agrees when he promises to remove the tree, and he quickly hurries out. Mrs. Barton stays behind to apologize to the Girls and reveals that she did all the “curse” work to get her husband to act right.

The Girls arrive at the rather seedy Sagebrush Club, where Blanche pretends not to know every man present or that there’s a mechanical bull in the backroom. She asks a waiter about their reservations, and he reveals management canceled Big Daddy’s second show after the first show. Blanche goes backstage to comfort her father. A very stereotypical cowboy named Rusty attempts to put the moves on Dorothy and Rose, but Dorothy quickly puts the smackdown on him.

Blanche enters Big Daddy’s dressing room and tells him how sorry he is that his show was canceled. Big Daddy says he’s just going to have to try again. Blanche asks him why he’s going to continue when he’s no good. He tells her he knows he’s no good, and opens up to her about the real reason he wants to try this: He’d always wanted to have a big adventure, but settled down with Blanche’s mother. Now he wants to try something new, something adventurous. Blanche apologizes for not hearing him out, and sings the chorus of his song with him.

“Excuse me, Rose, but have I given you any indication at all that I care?”

Both the A- and B-plots this week are excellent, and the characters all have some great zingers. Big Daddy, Blanche’s very Southern father, makes his first appearance on the show, and after being talked up by Blanche both in this episode and in previous episodes, he doesn’t disappoint. He honestly wouldn’t look out of place as a one-off character on Dallas.

I find it interesting that both Rose and Blanche have already had episodes where they have to learn how to interact with their parents as adults. Dorothy and Sophia are already on that level, so I suppose it makes sense that those two need to learn how to do the same thing. Outside of Sophia, parents don’t play as big a role in this show as children do, which makes sense considering the Girls are grandparents themselves -- Big Daddy is the only one who will play any kind of recurring role.

BLANCHE: Now listen girls, my father is an old-time Southern aristocrat, who is used to fine manners and gentility. So please, please, please be on your best behavior. *they all look at Sophia* SOPHIA: Why’s everyone looking at me?!

The A-plot’s a bit melodramatic, but it’s mitigated by the scene where Big Daddy tries to sing. It’s such an hilariously terrible performance, but I think the funniest part actually comes from the audience. After he strums the final note on his guitar, there’s a beat for the audience reaction, and you can hear one or two members hesitantly start to clap, as if they’re not sure if that’s the expected reaction, but other than that it’s silence until Blanche says her line.

This is one of the final roles of character actor Murray Hamilton. It’s not often I get to say an actor appeared on both of my favorite older TV shows: Golden Girls and Perry Mason. If only he’d also appeared on I Love Lucy, then I’d get the hat trick -- I’m still looking for the actor who was on all three. Hamilton died just four months after the episode aired, which is presumably why the character was recast when he appears in a later episode. He’s very convincing as Blanche’s gentlemanly father, even though he was only 10 years older than Rue McClanahan. Though it is a bit disconcerting that Blanche’s father looks younger than some of the men she’s dated.

No one says how old Big Daddy is, but presumably since Blanche is in her 50s (she wouldn’t admit that on pain of death, but come on, she has a 16-year-old grandson), he’s got to be in his late 70s, early 80s. While it might be a bit late to launch a career as a country-western singer (who does Beatle medleys for some reason), the message that you’re never too old to try new things and your mental health should not be called into question for it is still a good one.

That said, the part that worries me is when he tells Blanche, almost as an afterthought, that he’s sold his family estate to fund his new venture. Since that’s a property that presumably his four children would have grown up on and that they’re now not going to inherit, it’s actually kind of concerning that he just sold it without making any of them aware of it. I know I got on Kirsten back in the episode about Rose’s will for acting entitled to her mother’s money and getting mad that Rose would have spent it, and I still stand by that.

SOPHIA: Play it safe. Stick with the curse. DOROTHY: Ma, I’ve stayed with you all these years. *Sophia raises her hand to administer the Evil Eye again*

But the difference here being Blanche is more upset that he would do something so impulsive after having spent so much of his life building up that estate -- and I’m with her on that, not because it points to a potential health problem, but because it’s reckless and foolish. And it doesn’t really get resolved. Blanche just agrees to support her father and doesn’t seem to address the fact that he’s now effectively homeless.

One of the funniest parts of the episode is at the beginning, when Blanche is reminiscing about her Southern upbringing and makes it sound like she grew up 100 years in the past -- what with all the sipping mint juleps under an old magnolia and exchanging prize-winning pecan pie recipes. That’s funny enough, but what makes it funnier is that Dorothy and Sophia have about as much patience as you’d expect two Brooklyn women to have for such gauzy nonsense:

DOROTHY: Tell me Blanche, during any of this, would the farmhands suddenly break into a chorus of “Dem Old Cotton Fields Back Home?” ... BLANCHE: I want him to feel right at home. SOPHIA: Then get the Millers across the street to tar and feather their lawn jockey.

The B-plot is what really makes this episode great. While Blanche and her father working out their issues is engaging enough, but Sophia steals the show when she goes to war with Mr. Barton. The Evil Eye she directs his way is nothing short of epic. I also enjoy that Dorothy is just as invested in it as her mother is, getting equally offended at being referred to as “You Italians,” she tries to get Mr. Barton to back down through the power of civic justice and a property map, and when all else fails, echoes her mother calling him “Mouth,” albeit accidentally to Big Daddy.

Also, bravo to this show for fleshing out Mrs. Barton. She appears in two scenes and at first appears to do nothing but try ineffectively to correct her jerk husband. Then comes the revelation that she was actually responsible for all the misfortunes that befell him -- I admire her ingenuity, because that’s the only way a stubborn bastard like her husband would ever apologize to his neighbors, despite clearly being in the wrong.

DOROTHY: Blanche, who do we see about our table? BLANCHE: Oh I don’t know. This is the first time I’ve ever been here. RUSTY: Well howdy Blanche! COWBOY: Howdy Blanche. Ladies. BLANCHE: No, I’m wrong. I think the museum did have its Christmas party here.

By the way, is it just me, or is there a lot of interest in Sophia’s Italian-ness this episode? Not only is her subplot about the Sicilian evil eye (when I was a kid, I thought that was made up -- I’m obviously not even remotely Italian), but Mr. Barton uses it as an insult, and then Big Daddy compliments her “Eye-talian” beauty. Sophia’s Sicilian flavor is one of my favorite things about her, and this episode has some of her best moments.

Out of all the characters, Rose is the one who ends up getting short shrift this week. I’m noticing something from this first season: Whenever there’s an episode where one Girl is left out of the bulk of the story, the writers compensate by giving her a big monologue in roughly the middle of the episode, usually in the kitchen over cheesecake. Once you notice the pattern, it’s impossible to un-notice it -- several episodes in this first season alone have followed this pattern.

ROSE: What on earth do you do with a mechanical bull? DOROTHY: Introduce him to a mechanical cow, Rose.

Still, if Betty White only gets a handful of lines and one monologue this week, she makes full use of them, and it’s especially cute that, unlike Dorothy and Sophia, she seems to enjoy the very Southern-ness that Blanche and her father exude, saying “It’s like being in Gone with the Wind!”

Episode rating: 🍰🍰🍰🍰 (four cheesecake slices out of five)

Favorite part of the episode:

The entire curse B-plot, especially the lines: “I can’t sleep! I can’t eat!” “You can’t sit.”

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

As You Are

Title: Focus

Co-authors: hopeless_romantic_spoonie, yespolkadotkitty

Summary: A reader insert series about a spoonie Stark Industries IT tech who finds a kindred spirit in Loki, God of Spoons, because it’s hard being different on the inside.

Rating: General Audiences

Also found on Ao3 here :)

Taglist: @just-the-hiddles, @yespolkadotkitty

“Need anything, Spoons?”

You lifted your head from where it was bent over in front of the computer, rolling the stiff muscles in your neck to see Tony standing at the door to the server room. His eyebrows were pulled together in worry, and a faint frown ghosted on his lips.

You shot him a quick smile and shook your head before returning your attention to the screen in front of you, intent upon not losing your train of thought. “Nope, I‘m good, Boss man.”

It was more difficult to work in the Tower, for several reasons. Besides having to remain in one spot for several hours, which was murder on your back, Tony and the rest of the Avengers usually thought it best to check on you periodically. It was sweet, but it was distracting, and you were struggling to maintain your focus as it was with your pain levels slowly climbing the longer you spent hunched over in that chair. It was meant to be ergonomic, but that only went so far.

Damn your internet for dying when it did.

Your eyes were bloodshot by the time Tony came around again, leaning against the doorframe and poking his head inside, rapping his knuckles against the metal loudly.

“What, Tony?” you asked, a hint of venom creeping into your tone, born of frustration and pain. If looks could kill, he would’ve been dead hours ago.

He arched a brow at your tone. “You need to eat something, Dorothy. Click those heels together and take a break.”

“I’m fine,” you snapped, even as your back twinged and made your face twist into a wince that was there and gone in an instant. “I just want to get this done as quickly as possible.”

Tony raised his hands placatingly and backed out of the room.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but your muscles were alternating between sharp spasms and breathtaking cramps by the time Tony strolled into the room, followed by Loki. You shot them both a glance, taking in the obvious concern on Tony’s face and the practiced boredom on Loki’s, before going back to your work, tapping your foot on the floor as you did.

You were so close.

“Tell her that she needs to go home,” Tony commanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

Loki arched a black brow at the command, tilting his head to the side. “You forget yourself. You do not control me, Stark.” His expression softened just a bit when he took you in, drawing over your body slowly before settling back on your face, where he found your cheeks flushed, your eyes bloodshot, your mouth set into a firm line and a permanent crease having formed in between your drawn brows.

Genuine concern tugged the corners of his lips downward as he mimicked Tony’s pose, but lazily against the wall opposite you. “Do you need help, kitten?”

You balked at the nickname, but set your face into a look of pure determination after letting that settle for a second. “Nope, I’m almost done here. I’m good.”

Loki waved his hand at you in a flourish, looking at Tony exasperatedly. “Listen to her. She claims to be fine, so trust that. Are there more pointless errands you wish for me to perform, or are we finished?”

Tony grumbled under his breath, shooting both of you a look before practically stomping out of the room.

You sent a grateful smile Loki’s way, but it was brief and didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks. I’d have been done thirty minutes ago if he hadn’t come in here every ten minutes checking up on me. It interrupts my focus."

His long strides ate up the distance between you quickly, and he folded himself into a chair on the other side of the desk, his long legs spread and arms supported by the armrests. It wasn’t fair that he could be so damned graceful and regal while doing something so simple. The thought made a blush stain your cheeks, and you captured your bottom lip in between your teeth at the foolishness of the thought. He said nothing, simply observed you, and eventually you stopped watching him from the corner of your eye so that you could get finished up and go home to your duvet nest and muscle relaxers.

“Done! Thank goodness,” you sighed, sitting back in the chair with a light groan. You had pushed it too far, you knew that, but your stubborn will had kept you here until the job was done. The payment tomorrow for such an idiotic move would be steep, but that was a worry for future you to manage. You glanced at the clock and inwardly reeled at the time. It was late, much later than you thought, and Loki really should have gone home already.

So should you, but that was beside the point.

“Plans tonight?” you asked conversationally, bracing yourself on the desk with rigid arms as you raised yourself to a standing position, swallowing the groan that wanted to come from deep within you at the stiff pain throbbing in your entire body.

Loki rose as well, watching you with piercing emerald eyes that missed nothing. “Ensuring that you return to your home safely.”

A huff of indignation fluttered your lips. You cursed yourself for forgetting your cane at home - going without it would make the journey on public transportation that much more daunting. Maybe you could slyly support yourself with the metal desk beneath you? “I’m good here, just a little slow. You go home and I’ll see you the next time you come ‘round to critique my TV show choices.”

But if anyone besides you was stubborn, it was Loki. He didn’t hover over you, but he remained close by as you took slow, excruciating steps from the room. When your knee buckled, damn nerve damage, he swooped in to hold you up before tucking your hand into the crook of his elbow as if you were an old couple going on a stroll.

It felt nice, being this close to him. He smelled lovely and familiar, and his arm was firm beneath your touch.

“Tony didn’t notice,” you grumbled childishly, referring to your weakened steps, “at least not enough to push it. You don’t have to help me, you know.”

“That overgrown man child can hardly tell his backside from his face. Little wonder he has no idea as to your true physical state that you so poorly attempted to hide,” Loki replied, tilting his sharp chin down to you as you both stepped into the elevator. He leveled you with the intensity of his concerned gaze. “Did it ever occur to you that having me around might prove optimal to your health?”

Self-sufficiency reared its stubborn head inside of you, forcing you to square your shoulders against the pain. “No, because I can do things on my own.”

He nodded and squeezed your hand tighter to him for just a moment. “You absolutely can, kitten, but you do not have to.”

Your heart melted, just a little. If he kept this up, a tiny piece of it would break off and be lost to him forever.

"Besides," he added, "I find that I would be most entertained by critiquing the next episode of One Hundred Percent Hotter. Those people have little to no idea about maths."

You laughed, and the levity helped ease the pain a bit. "Take me home."

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Darkstache Day 4: Strange Encounters

Dark is sick. Wilford wants to be the supportive boyfriend, but ends up taking the longest, most convoluted route to Dark’s room when he wakes somewhere different.

Word Count: 1,331.

Today’s prompt is sponsored by the fact that I hand-wrote most of this in work and genuinely thought it wouldn’t be as long as it is!

--

When Wilford woke, slumped on an unfamiliar couch in an unfamiliar studio, he knew he had fallen out of time again. Normally, this would be exciting, but not today. Dark had been unwell the previous day and had been getting worse. In times like these, Wilford was the only company he wanted. Leaving the entity alone could cause trouble if the wrong Ego aggravated him!

“Wilford. Are you sleeping on the job again?”

The voice made Wilford snap his head in the direction of the source. There stood Dark, but it wasn’t his Dark. This one had no tie, a shirt spread out enough to emphasise his collarbone, and an unbuttoned shirt. The style was far more casual than what his Dark would wear. His black hair fell haphazardly over his left eye. He stood with the right build and Wilford presumably guessed it was the right height too, but it wasn’t the right Dark. The distinctive crack-like scar across the left cheek was missing. This Dark glared down on him with a bemused expression, and it dawned on Wilford that he had yet to reply.

“Oh, uh… Yup! Super busy mornin’. Lemme just grab my, uh, coat in th’ office.” Before this Dark could question why Wilford would possibly need a coat during a heat wave, Wilford scrambled onto his feet and dashed into the nearest room - the bathroom. A quick glance around the tiny bathroom revealed a cupboard. Channeling his inner Dorothy, he pulled it open, stepped inside, and stumbled out of a closet in a boardroom. It looked as generic and bland as any boardroom in any timeline he had ever visited, so it was an impossible measure of whether he was home. He was grateful that the coast was clear (he already interrupted a board meeting before during one of these escapades. Never again!) and made his way to the door. As he glanced outside the boardroom, the wall opposite him was a dull white as opposed to a dull cream. That was proof that he was in the wrong timeline again. Just as he was about to pull his head back inside, voices caught his attention and he peered to his left.

A man and a woman were looking at something one of them had dropped. The woman was dressed in a free-flowing, yet incredibly sophisticated, black dress. Her black hair was swept over to the right with the tips of the fringe fading to red. Interestingly, there was a faint glow of red and blue around her as she made sure the man was okay. Was she ‘Dark’? As for the man... In all the timeline-hopping Wilford has done, he had never seen someone like that man. He was around the same height as the woman, and wore a sky-blue waistcoat with black suit trousers, both of which were complimented with a white shirt. His hair - dyed the same blue as his clothes - was also brushed to the right, but seemed to have curls in it. The large, blue-tinted round glasses only added to the intriguing look. She was charming, he was adorable; and in another point in time Wilford would have let himself get caught to meet both. However, the entity who had his heart was ill and needed him. He darted back into the cupboard just as the boardroom door opened.

The door is opened again, and he is immediately greeted by the sight of a Dark turning to face him. The creature - for this was clearly no human - gave an unnaturally wide grin before reaching a clawed hand to try and grab him. The door was rapidly slammed. That was certainly not his Dark!

He had to take a moment to calm down after that scare. While Wilford was one to roll with any and all unusual turns of events, seeing a distortion of his boyfriend was never something that he can get used to. With a shaky breath, he reluctantly opened the door and nervously poked his head out. Tension slipped out of his body the moment he recognised the office. This was Dark’s office, but it was still the wrong timeline. However, this was the one he dubbed the “nearly mine” timeline. It was the one he liked visiting when he needed to get advice. As far as he could tell, there were only minor differences between the two times. For example, the offices were nearly identical, but this one had extra additions to accommodate a cat. Said cat - a silver tabby with nearly-golden eyes - bounded over to the door of the office and mewled at the familiar stranger. She caught the attention of her owner, and he threw a dismissive glance Wilford’s way as he finished what he was writing.

This Dark looked like a college professor, something Wilford made sure to call him. His three-piece suit was impeccable, and the burnt umber tie added to the ‘vintage’ look he was trying to recreate. His hair was cut tight, bar the fringe that was combed neatly to the left. The entity’s pale purple eyes glanced up at the Wilford before him again, and a small smile appeared.

“Rose,” he greeted calmly with the nickname Wilford used to prevent confusion. “I was beginning to think you had gotten better at not falling through time.” The timeline-hopper gave a ‘guilty as charged’ shrug.

“I’d love ta stay an’ chat, Prof, but I gotta get home. My Dark’s sick an’ I don’t wanna leave him alone.” The other Dark gave a sympathetic look, knowing the saga Wilford had to go through to start that relationship in the first place. Giving a salute, Wilford turned and put his hand on the door handle. A knock on the desk made him spin back around in confusion.

“You know you will only continue going in circles if you haphazardly force yourself into different times. You told me as much, remember?” Wilford nodded slowly, and Dark took this as an incentive to continue. “Before you open the door, focus all your thoughts on where you want to be. Ground yourself, and you will return home safely. Good luck, Rose.” The pair exchanged a smile before Wilford turned his attention to the door. A deep breath was his motivation to imagine Dark’s bedroom, where the entity would hopefully be resting. He visualised the way Dark would smile up at him once realising Wilford was there. With nothing but his partner on his mind, Wilford opened the door and bravely stepped through.

It was carefully closed behind him as Wilford entered the familiar room. To his immense relief, bundled under several blankets, was his Dark. Kicking off his shoes, Wilford crept toward the bed while taking off the bow tie. As he drew closer, there was movement under the blankets. The shivering mass underneath stirred awake and groggily rolled over to figure out who had entered.

Dark’s violet eyes were half-lidded as he tried to recognise the intruder with his half-asleep mind. His medium-length black hair was tousled, yet the light waves looked as impeccable as always. The normal traces of glowing lights were dim to mirror how low Dark felt while sick. But most importantly, the white scar on his left cheek that resembled broken glass was clear as day. It scrunched up slightly as that smile Wilford had visualised came to life.

“I didn’t think you were coming.” Wilford felt a pang in his heart as he heard the way Dark croaked. He sat at the edge of the bed and brushed some loose strands out of Dark’s face.

“I’m sorry, my sickly shadow. I got a little lost on my way here, but I’m here now. I’m not leavin’.” That last sentence was enough for Dark to move again so he could open the nest of blankets as an invitation for Wilford to climb in and join him. Before long, the pair were dozing in the other’s arms: safe, sound, and secure in this timeline.

(Final note: all but the first Dark are actually versions of Dark I have written over the last year or so. The role-reversal Dark was a revamp that I only developed today, however.)

(Final final note: I don’t get to write the role-reversal verse but I really should look into doing so because I love it)

[calliecat93]

RWBY V6 CH13 (Season Finale) Review: Our Way

Well... we made it guys. RWBY Volume 6 Chapter 13. The grand finale. It feels like we just began, but still like it was so long ago. It's been one Hell of a ride. Train crashes, traumatic flashbacks via blue genie ladies, Zombie Grimm, confirmed lesbians, mechas, a VERY satisfying villain death, and now a kaiju. It's been quite a journey, and now it's time to bring it to a close. Can our heroes save the day? Can they catch their dreams together and keep rising like the moon? For the final time this volume, lets find out.

Overview

We begin... not in Argus. No, we're in some kind of forest area where we see a Mistral airship arrive. Turns out it got snatched by Neo, who they FINALLY gave a new outfit. It looks really good! She's not the only one as Cinder makes her appearance... and not gonna lie, she's pretty damn hot. She's very pleased with how things are going, especially when Neo uses her power to mask the ship as an Atlas ship. Which will make their infiltration of Atlas all the easier. As she climbs aboard, Cinder comments on how sometime ago, someone asked her if she believed in destiny. If you all recall, she replied yes... and she's happy to say that she still does. Haha... I can't wait for this to be the equivalent of Adam's “It's time I get what I deserved” line for when Ruby kicks your sorry ass! Seriously, I gave the middle finger to this scene. Screw you Cinder.

Okay, back to Argus! Cordovan is furious, repeatedly putting the blame on Ruby and the team for causing all of this. Blake and Yang rejoin the group as Weiss points out that they just took out the one thing that can stand a chance against the Leviathan. Everyone boards the ship as the Atlas Military fight the Grimm off, even activating a hard light shield around the city. Cordovan continues her rantings as her men call for her help. Blake tearfully apologizes to everyone as the ship takes flight, blaming herself as if Adam hadn't interfered, they'd have gotten out with no issues. Yang tells her to not blame herself and Ruby telling her that all that matters is that she's safe. The two even have a cute little hug! Aww!

Maria points out that with the military occupied, this is THE perfect chance to get by and continue to Atlas. But of course by doing so, they leave the chance of the Grimm killing everyone in Argus. Ruby opens her mouth, clearly about to refuse... but her teammates reply first. All three refuse to run. They are Huntresses, and they will fight until the bitter end to protect everyone. Maria seems pleased by this, but things are still not good as the Leviathan's fire breath tears straight through the shields. If it breaks through all of them, then Argus is as good as destroyed. Therefore, Ruby knows what she has to do. She calls out to Atlas' forces, telling them that she is a Huntress and that she can weaken it. How? Well... remember Maria's comments about Ruby needing a trial by fire to train her Silver Eyes? Well my friends, the trial has come.

Maria starts to comment on how she didn't mean like this, but Ruby isn't hearing it. She was able to use the Eyes at Beacon and at Brunswick, so she believes that she can do this. The Argus base, due to the ship being deemed hostile, refuse to aid them. So what does Ruby do? Decide that they'll do ti themselves. With Ren and Jaune keeping the ship masked, the plan is to get before the Leviathan and for Ruby to Silver Eyes blast it. It' a good plan... but by the time they get there, the Leviathan has charged up another attack. They're forced to pull back and both Jaune and Ren's already weakened Auras break. With no one sure of what to do now, Ruby looks to Weiss, a new plan formed.

As Yang and Nora shoot at the Leviathan to keep ti distracted, Weiss summons the Queen Lancer. Ruby hops on, telling herself that she can do this as she flies before the Leviathan. She closes her eyes, even throwing out her earpiece when Yang tries to reach out to her, and begins to think back through her memories. She thinks of the ones she loves like her father, her teammates, her friends, Penny... all the memories that make her feel happy and the urge to protect. But as she does, the darker memories begin to fill her mind. Seeing Jaune's broken state in V4, Yang's broken state at the end of V3, the sight of Yang in the V3 finale. And of course the deaths of both Pyrrha and Penny. All of these BTW use these 2D manga-style images. I honestly would have preferred they just use clips or stills of these moments... but they still look nice. But with the reminder of those dark moments, Ruby's concentration breaks. The Leviathan takes notice of her, and it prepares to attack.

Realizing that she is in trouble, Ruby takes notice of the Lamp. In panic, she calls out Jinn's name. Time freezes aside from herself, and she apologizes for she does not have a question to ask. She needed the time freezing power of Jinn's summoning to buy herself time. Jinn knows this, and decides to grant a pass on her summoning, but she will not allow so again. She DOES however compliment Ruby on her cleverness. With extra time now bought, Ruby again closes her eyes and remembers. This time, she is smiling in confidence as she remembers all the happy moments from the past volumes. Time begins to move again as she remembers those she loves, her team, JNPR, Qrow, Oscar, even Maria. It all culminates to a vision of one person in particular in the only Maya-animated shot of this flashback. We sees a white-cloaked woman standing at a familiar cliff-side, red and white rose petals flying around her as she turns around. Yes everyone, we have finally gotten our first glimpse of Ruby's mother, Summer Rose. With that and all of these thoughts in her mind and a new song titled Indomitable playing, Ruby unleashes the power of her Silver Eyes. With one massive blast,t he Leviathan is turned to stone. The Argus citizens cheer as Ruby can take in a sigh of relief... well, almost.

The Leviathan begins to break free of the stone, bringing Ruby back to panic. But not for long as Cordovan takes over, having dis-attached the broken arm and uses the other one to create a drill and truly destroy the Leviathan. She opens the cockpit to face Ruby personally, who thanks her and apologizes for her and her friend's actions. But, to my shock, Cordovan says that her forces can handle the remaining Grimm and that it's unlikely that anyone will take notice of one ship leaving in her report. Yes everyone, Cordovan is finally allowing Ruby and the gang to take the ship and go on to Atlas. Ruby smiles and rejoins the others as they head off.

Night falls and they have enough fuel to make it to Atlas. Qrow compliments Ruby as he gets his flask... before lowering his arm and telling her to not scare him like that again. He earns a hug from Ruby for that! As she walks off, Maria compliments Qrow on his efforts. While Qrow feels guilty for essentially causing so many issues, Maria points out that he still helped when the time came, and that was good. Qrow seems to be genuinely happy hearing this, complimenting Maria and how it was great to see the Grimm Reaper in action. With the others, Weiss apologizes to Blake for what she had to endure, but is glad that Yang was there to help her. Yang takes Blake's hand, saying that they were there for each other. It seems that the Bumblebee pair's relationship is restored... and may now be canon if Renora is anything to go by XD

Everyone turns to Ruby, Ren pointing out all the crazy but awesome stuff she did. Embarrassed, Ruby points out how Oscar managed to make a successful crash landing. Except... eh didn't. Oscar reveals that during the crash, eh got help... from Ozpin. While he didn't take control, he DID calm Oscar down and guide him on landing before vanishing again. Yang asks if he had been watching them this whole time, but Oscar isn't for sure. Guess we'll leave that open ended for now as Qrow tells them to come over and check out the view of Atlas. We get our first look, and... damn it looks AMAZING. You guys ever seen the Hayao Miyazaki film Castle in the Sky? Think that! There's only... one issue. There's an entire air armada guarding the city, as though awaiting an attack. Control welcomes the ship home, and cue the credits!

But of course, there's one more scene to talk about. First, the credit song Nevermore is AMAZING! It is very much a “Fuck you Adam: song and both Casey and a guest singer named Adrienne Cowan absolutely KILLED it. After hat though, we have of course the stinger. We see Emerald enter the meeting room, the windows still broken and the table still turned over. She sees Mercury and gets ready to apologize for Chapter 9... but sees that he is looking horrified. In a mirror to how the Mistral storyline began in Volume 4, Emerald looks out and is also horrified. Why? Salem is summoning an army of... those gorilla Grimm I can't remember the name of. But that's not all. With her powers, she gives them all wings. You know... kinda like those flying monkeys from that movie that also has a witch and  a wizard named Oz. Hazel walks in, referring to an old saying “If you want something done right, do it yourself”. Salem continues to summon her Grimm as Volume 6 truly comes to an end.

Review

So... what did I think of the finale? Well.. give me a second. Taking in a deep breath... okay, here it goes: AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!

I LOVED IT!!!

Okay, we have a lot to go through, so lets get through the small stuff first. First, the stinger scares me. It's a great bookend, calling back to when the Mistral arc began so it's only appropriate that it end with Emerald and Mercury one more looking on in horror at the Grimm pools. Salem is clearly no longer fooling around and is taking matters into her own hands. It's  great Wizard of Oz reference... that makes me very concerned about both Ruby and Oscar since IDK which one is meant to be Dorothy in this case, but still I AM CONCERNED. It's a very good way to end things and to leave us in anticipation for the next volume. Same for the beginning with Neo and Cinder, which again Cinder can go to Hell. But it was a nice scene and they look great in their new outfits. Hopefully this signals that RWBY will also get some new ones! Come on RT, GIVE THEM COATS AT LEAST!

Okay, let us talk about Ruby now. Dear God, RUBY. I've said this several times now, but she has been SO GOOD in this volume. Clearly CRWBY listened to the critiques about the last volume because they've just been killing it with her. This was, of course, the biggest moment for her. Ruby has truly grown and stepped up. She lead when everyone else gave up, she remained committed to the task despite all the doubt and uncertainty, and she did everything in her power to fight back and accomplish her goal. This is, by far, her greatest moment since beheading the Nevermore in V1. She chooses to fight, even when Argus refuses to aide her. She faces the Leviathan head on. She actually remembers about the Silver Eyes and uses what Maria has told her to turn the Grimm to stone. Yeah it didn't work fully, showing that she still has a long way to go to mastering her power, but she still pulled it off and the clever use of Jinn to buy herself time to regain herself was an AWESOME move. And Jinn let her get away with it! Nice!

The entire scene was just great. The flashbacks, while I again would have preferred actual footage or stills, still looked really nice. You could feel how Ruby felt, trying and at first uncertain before the dark memories come back. Then she tries again, much more confident, and uses the memory of her loved ones to unleash her power all on her own, Not out of trauma or fear. Not form Maria needing to guide her. No, she did it all on her own volition. Ruby is no longer that same naive girl form Volume 1 who asked Glynda for an autograph cause she was a Huntress. No, now SHE is the Huntress. She recognizes her responsibility. No longer is it a young girl's naive fantasy, but her sacred duty, and she WILL carry it out. And it wasn't only Ruby. Her teammates, who went to Beacon for personal reasons over the duty and were having serious doubts to their commitment, immideatly refuse to run and to fight on with zero hesitation. These kids have grown so much, and I couldn't be prouder.

I think my only issue is... well, Cordovan. While there is truth in her blaming the kids, she escalated it to unnecessary lengths with the mecha and refused to listen. And she gets away with it. She also takes a 180 on her attitude, which just feels unsatisfying. I mean I'm glad that she let them through, but she receives zero comeuppance for her actions and attitude. It wasn't enough to deter form the finale, but it DID leave me annoyed.

So guys, after one Hell of a journey, the team have made it to Atlas. Which as I said, it looks stunning. There is of course reason to worry since Ironwood's paranoia seems to have gotten worst, but at least they're being allowed in. So... what happens now? Hard to say. There's a ton of possibilities. Hopefully some new outfits, as I said. There's the Winter Maiden, Ironwood's state, potential STRQ stuff, and probably some consequences to this volume since they don't have Ozpin to talk Ironwood down now. With Cinder and Neo on their way, as well as Watts and Tyrian, we've got plenty of worry for our heroes. And of course, there's Penny's father and the Schnee family. A lot of things are coming up I imagine. But all for another time. For now, everyone made it safe and sound. And as a familiar song once stated “that's all that matters somehow.”

Final Thoughts

I don't think I need to emphasize how much I loved this chapter. Think I did that plenty. It was a great wrap-up to what I can now call my favorite volume of the series. I have one more review to do, a full RWBY Volume 6 review. After that, aside form any Character Shorts or stuff that comes out, I'll be done with RWBY until the Fall. So I will see you all in the season review, and thank you all for reading!

[thedancingwalrus-blog]

I am attempting this meme thing. I hope I’ve got it right.

Rules are:

·         Post the rules

·         Answer the questions given to you by the tagger

·         Write 11 questions of your own

·         And tag 11 people

 1. if you were Not A Mammal, what (other) animal would you be?

Could I be the kea-bird? I very much like the kea bird. You see I have a lot of admiration for any animal that has figured out a way to snowboard, have snow ball fights and also kill things several dozen times its size so it can eat their kidneys. :)

New Zealand is insane and I love it.

2. what AU would you kill to see someone write about your OTP?

Hmmmmm well first I need to decide what my OTP is.

I write a lot of different ships. Like I checked my AO3 tags just now and the biggest number I have for one ship is 3 fics. The vast majority of those fics are AUs so there’s a certain amount that if I want a pairing and AU I write it myself because I don’t expect other people to be interested in what I am.

I’m honestly struggling to think of one pairing to put down let alone an AU for them.

I would be like Golem and want them ALL. MINE! MY PRECIOUS!

*ahem*

I love Lena Luthor/Supergirl to a ridiculous degree but don’t have any particular AU urges with them.

I think I’d really love to see an AU where Alex Danvers and M’gann Morzz were a couple, a long, emotionally intense slow burn, dealing with M’gann’s PTSD and Alex’s desire for a family and everything happening on Mars.

Having just watched the latest Star Wars and the Doctor Who Christmas Special I’d also really love to see the AU where the Doctor and Bill show up right at the end of The Last Jedi and Bill’s incredible whirlwind romance with Rose.  

3. do you like crossover fics/stories? (e.g., blending marvel and dc?) why or why not?

Considering how many of them I write I don’t actually read a lot of them.

I like writing them because doing them well requires that extra level of thought: how do the worlds overlap? How do the characters interact? Is there anything from either world that doesn’t fit and can it be reconciled?

As much as it’s slow going I’m loving writing the Batman/Iron man crossover with my partner. For me fiction should be talking about something, no matter how light the story and no matter whether it’s publishable or not. I really like the way we’ve used Bruce and Tony to talk about different approaches to social problems, a sort of ground-up personal approach versus a top-down at a remove approach. I don’t think we could have done so well outside of a crossover.

But that extra complexity is probably why I don’t read a lot of them. With my health problems over the past year-and-change I’ve found it difficult to dedicate time and focus to reading other people’s fiction. And given the choice between reading and writing I’ll always go for writing.

4. what’s the last piece of fiction you read that you would recommend?

Heh, yeah I’m not sure what the last book I finished and enjoyed was. My difficulty focusing over the year has meant a lot of books were started and put down again, no matter how good they were.

I also read a lot of non-fiction rather than fiction.

Generally though here are some I managed through mental health problems and probably give an idea of how eclectic my reading is-

The Lord Peter Wimsey Series by Dorothy L Sayers.

·         These were written in the 1920s and there are some issues with racist language as a result. But by Gods they’re brilliant. Startlingly original mysteries that don’t always turn out to be murders, excellent, varied female characters, a mentally ill protagonist, a wealth of disabled characters, memorable descriptions. They’re worth a read.

Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie

·         Best sci fi book I’ve read in a very very long time. Excellent plot. Wonderful lightness of touch when it comes to world building. And an intensely personal, emotional focus. It’s essentially the story of a loyal soldier plotting to kill the head of their nation, not out of any moral compulsion or difference of opinion but because she killed someone the soldier loved. Powerful stuff.

5. your thoughts about poetry? Do you write it?

Poetry is excellent but I never write it myself.

I find it’s a wonderful way to summarise intense emotion. I memorise a lot of it (for which we broadly blame Saudi) and quote it fairly often. My favourites are Sassoon, Sappho and Rumi. I dip into Byron occasionally and I have a compass engraved with The Road Less Travelled By.

I’m also a big fan of the Sagas but obviously they lose a lot of the meter in translation. I’m thinking of trying to learn Lokasenna in the original because I think it would be satisfying to growl at people. I’ve got a copy of Beowulf in Old English that I go back to every so often to look at the language. One day I shall have the courage to read it aloud as it was supposed to be.

6. what’s one period of history (from any place) you find interesting and want to either learn more about or teach others about?

I have to choose ONE?!

I mean it’s sort of obvious but also I think the only reason this is counted as ‘one’ thing by a lot of people is bloody Western bias not taking the entire African continent seriously.

West African pre-colonial history.

For godssakes if you’re making the slightest pretence at understanding the New World you should know the basics. It feeds into so much Caribbean, Brazilian and US history. It shaped wars in Brazil and Cuba and Haiti.

It's also a wonderful contrast to Western philosophical schools. There are completely different concepts about deities, kingship, gender and souls.

And honestly? I just think it's really interesting and really under appreciated. I really love learning more about it and I wish more people learnt about it.

 7. salty or sweet?

Sweet. No sweeter. Sweeter than that. Look just pass me the fucking sugar already I’ll handle this.

Wait- This is about food right? This isn’t that weird American thing of assigning flavours to emotions and behaviours?

Are you trying to confuse me so you can take the coffee? I see through your cunning ruse and the caffeine is mine. Yes.

8. feelings about gift-giving? Enjoy it? Find it burdensome? Think it’s too commercial? Ritualized? Etc?

Well…of course it’s ritualised but that doesn’t make it wrong. Rituals are a large part of what holds us together.

I like gift giving. It appeals to the old fashioned part of me and I think it’s a good way of reinforcing social ties and showing appreciate of others. Sure it can be difficult, but I enjoy the exchange.

At least when it is actually focused on the person getting the gift rather than just some generic expensive thing for the sake of it.

9. vampires: yay or nay?

-the Queen of air and darkness

begins to shrill and cry,

Oh young man oh my slayer,

Tomorrow you shall die.

Oh Queen of air and darkness

I think it’s true you say,

And I shall die tomorrow

But you will die today.

10. what’s one trope you love and can’t get enough of, no matter the medium in which it arises (tv, film, fic, etc)?

Hmmm difficult.

I really like seeing characters who are genuinely very different, with different backgrounds and beliefs coming together to do the right thing. That's part of why I liked the Justice League, seeing very different people working together and becoming friends.

I also like complex villains. I have a serious weak spot for them. My favourite characters are often villains, Lex Luthor, the Joker, Catwoman- But I sort of have mixed emotions about that. Because it comes from....poorly written heroes essentially. I often focus on complex villains when the heroes are bland and uninteresting. I think a lot of the time that comes from people assuming that the audience will empathise with the hero and that they need to take more effort over the villain.

So when I write I try to make a concerted effort to make the heroes interesting and flawed and complex. Because otherwise why aren't we reading a story about the villain?

 11. are you a morning shower person or a night shower person? or the elusive bubble baths person?

I am an ‘ARGH NO WATER!!!! WHY IS IT SO COLD?! WHY IS IT FALLING FROM THE CELING?! THIS IS UNNATURAL AND WRONG!!! THE PAIN!!! THE INDIGINITY!!!!!’ person.

 1) John Boyega or Idris Elba?

2) Murder Mysteries, good family fun, awful and disturbing, dull- Thoughts?

3) Favourite mythology and why?

4) Is there a type of story you wish you could write but don’t want to attempt?

5) Never-fail feel good book?

6) Last film that made you cry?

7) Do you get carsick?

8) What’s the best plant in the world? Have you grown one?

9) Dosas. Breakfast food or lunch food?

10) If you were dividing things up into seasons from scratch what would they be based on and what would you call them?

11) What and where is the best time of year?

 @akindoodle, @phynali @thehungryvortigaunt @warclad (sorry mate I couldn’t remember what your personal blog was called) @bysamanthakeel, 

[anti-social-butterfly-bitch]

The Stopwatch

Here’s a little short story I wrote. Hope somebody reads it or enjoys it. :) :

Samuel Wilkins approached the front door in a nervous fashion, trying to hide the awkward and pleased grin on his face. If he was going to surprise his wife of eighteen years, he couldn’t be grinning like a fool. He ran his thumb around the cool outside edge of the metal in his pocket. He stopped trying to hide his grin, as it kept popping up.

Samuel peered through the window, knowing he’d see that annoyingly talkative parrot that Dorothy loved so much. Ringing the bell, he smiled goofily. He didn’t even jump whenever the smiling, wrinkled face popped out of the doorway before he even took his finger off the bell. Instead, he laughed. “Do you always wait by the door until I get home?”

The corners of her startling blue eyes crinkled with laughter. “Of course not! I just know when you’ll be home.” He sneered in a teasing way, “Oh! So you’ve got my schedule memorized, then?” “Come in from the cold, dear, you’ll catch your death out there,” she said with a genuine tone of worry.

He smiled and stepped inside, taking his coat off and hanging it on the stand, like always. “Dot, you know as well as I do that-” The old man was cut off by the cacophony of squawks, barks, growls, and mocking voices from the sitting room. “Joseph is mocking Basil again,” said Dorothy, by way of explanation. “Now, what were you saying, dear?” the old woman said with an almost disturbing amount of fixation on her husband, as though his every word were a matter of life and death.

“You said that I’d catch my death out in the cold. I wanted to say that you know as well as I do that I couldn’t catch my death if it was handed to me,” he said in a snarky tone meant to mimic the voice of their parrot which was now echoing throughout the house. She laughed, a light, silvery sound with not a trace of old age. A kinder tone entered his voice, one of pure affection. “Dot? Do you remember what today is?”

Her face was a mask of confusion. She smiled vaguely. “Of course, it’s-” Suddenly she gasped, “Oh, Sam! I almost did forget? It’s our eighteenth anniversary?” She looked absolutely panicked. She turned quickly, as though there were something urgent that she needed to do.

Samuel laughed heartily, almost the exact opposite of her silvery laugh, yet still a perfect harmony to her. “Dot, wait! I know you didn’t forget. You just didn’t have it at the front of your mind.” At these words, Dorothy reached into the pocket of her spotted apron and pulled out a small piece of carved wood.

He smiled and gingerly picked the object out of her outstretched hand. It was a delicately carved and detailed wooden sculpture of a magpie. On the bottom in neatly looping cursive, were the words, “Sam of the Birds.” He smiled and kissed her delicately on the cheek.

“I know that Sam of the Birds is you favorite book and magpies are always your favorite birds,” she said with a vague smile. “I didn’t even realize I was putting away time every afternoon to carve it.” He walked over to the fireplace mantel and delicately placed the bird in front of and old but beautifully carved clock. “Say, Dot? Does this clock still work?”

“I can’t remember, but I think it stopped a few days ago….” He smiled broadly. “Well, we’ll need to get something with the right time to wind it with. Do you think this’ll do, Dot?”

“Yes, I think--Sam! You got me that?” She said, gesturing to the ornately decorated silver pocket watch he’d produced from his pocket. There were tears in her eyes. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. She looked at him, love showing on her face more obviously than the wrinkles.

When she looked at him, for a moment, time stopped, then it flew back. They were young, he was the handsome, honest, hard-working, man with a kind spirit. She was the startlingly beautiful young girl who was always seen as just a bit dotty. No one guessed the two talked for long hours after dark, laughing and finishing sentences when the other trailed off. Neither of them admitted it but pointing at the stars was just a way to get the other to look up and the view of this person they were falling in love with, stars in their eyes, night in their hair, the universe showing them how perfect they were to each other. That was worth every bit of stardust, worth every curious look, worth every rumor and worth every bit of time that they had to offer.

In those stolen visits to one another, they realized a lot about one another. They had a lot of similarities, but they also had things that they didn’t say. Samuel never told her why magpies were his favorite bird. One sunrise, as they were about to leave, she stood. That wasn’t the thing that was at all unusual. The thing that caught his eye was that as soon as she stood, the sun rose behind her illuminating her every detail like the sun shining on a branch, and in that moment a beautiful magpie decided to take flight behind her, giving her angelic glow a matching set of wings that fit her just right.

Samuel’s mind flashes forwards to those blessed months when she was pregnant, only three years after they had gotten married. She had been so very happy all the time, only once slipping into a dark spell. He had asked her what was wrong and she had looked him right in the eyes, terror etched over her usually smiling face. “Sam, what if--” she choked back a sob. “What if it’s a boy? There’s going to be a war. What if it’s a boy and he decides to fight? What if….”

“Dot, there’s no war,” he said, gently lowering himself to where their eyes were level, his hands firmly planted on her shoulders. “If it’s a boy, we’ll love him just as much as we love each other. You always said you wanted a boy, so why the sudden change of heart?” He looked imploringly into her eyes, searching for her fear so that he could quell it, or fight it. He hated to see her suffer for something she had wanted for so long.

“I know there’s going to be a war, Samuel,” she said, panic in her eyes. “Not now, but when the baby’s nineteen, a war will start.” She said this with the cool certainty of a herald of death. No bitterness, no tears, only a broken heart with death on the inside. “Sam, I wish time would stand still. I don’t want to lose the baby, and I don’t want to lose you, Sam.”

A few months later, she gave birth to a beautiful healthy baby. Samuel smiled down at the thing that Dorothy was so afraid of losing, and he understood. The baby was only minutes old, but it already had a soft down of brown hair with the dark of night that was only found on Dot. It’s eyes were stunning. One was Dorothy’s beautiful blue and the other was a startling green, like maple leaves right before the fall, when the leaves become as bright as they can in opposition to the seasons.

“What’ll the name be, Dot?” Sam said, never taking his eyes off of the beautiful magpie of a child. She whispered the name to the doctor. Sam, being Sam, leaned as close as he could. He drew back suddenly and exclaimed loudly. “You’re going to name our first child Ant?” Dorothy laughed, her teeth glinting in the fluorescent lights.

She repeated the real name, out loud this time, but Samuel cut her off. “We’ll call the baby Ant. It fits our family really well. Don’t you think, Dot?” She smiled. “Yes, I think that’s perfect.”

At the present moment, (23 years later) a knock sounds at the door. “ANT! You’re here!” Dot cried excitedly. “May I come in?” asks the figure politely. “Of course,” Dorothy replied. The figure enters the house.

“Hello, Mum. Dad,” the strange figure said, pulling off their coat. The stranger proceeded to take off their hat, releasing waist-length brown hair. Dot shifted nervously. “Is there any specific reason you decided to stop by? You look worried, dear,” Dot asked, face full of concern. “Mum, I-I’m I’m signing up for the army,” the girl said, her face reflecting her steely resolve.

“Anna! You-” Dot stutters. “Anna, you know that they don’t accept girls in the army. Frankly, you should be ashamed that you showed up today and said that you are planning to fulfill your mother’s worst nightmare when you have no means of doing so. Are you trying to tear her heart in two?” Samuel asks, his voice dangerously calm. Dot looks at her daughter in paralyzing shock and awe.

“Sam, we-we have to let her fight,” Dot whispers, tears streaming down her face. She knows that, though it may break her heart to see her daughter leave without knowing if she’ll ever come back, it would break her daughter not to fight a war she thought was worth fighting. Sam looked startled. “Dot, she can’t-” Dorothy’s face hardened with resolve. “So she’ll dress like a boy. She’ll learn how to act like a boy. And if-if it’s what she really wants, then she’ll fight.”

Samuel looked awed. “Dot, I-” Dorothy turned to her sputtering husband and said, in a crisp voice, “Do not argue with me, Samuel. It is our anniversary. You may keep your watch. The only thing I want is for my daughter to find something that she loves as I have found in you. So, Samuel, I implore you. Do. Not. Argue. With. Me.”

She calmly pressed the silver pocket watch into her husband’s hand, looking straight into his bewildered face and turned to her daughter. “Sweetheart, we’re going to need to make you something so that you look like a man, which won’t be as difficult as it sounds because, firstly, I have brilliant sewing skills and, secondly, you inherited your father’s face shape so thank goodness you won’t be teased for being a pretty boy,” Dorothy said, her vague tone of voice replacing the don’t-you-dare-tell-me-I’m-wrong-Samuel-now-go-to-your-room-or-no-dessert voice.

A few months pass. Samuel comes home and kisses his wife on the cheek. “Are there any letters from Ant yet, Dot?” “No, she hasn’t written in a while. I think she’s just been a bit busy going to war and all,” Dot said in a serene tone of voice. “Then again, I don’t believe I’ve checked the mail in a while.” Samuel smiled, opened the door through which he’d just entered, and stepped out to intercept the postman.

After chatting with the postman for a few minutes, Samuel comes in holding several letters. He closes the door and sits down next to his wife. “He handed me a note that said ‘Dear Mum and Dad, I’ve been writing letters for months but I had to send them all at once, so don’t get confused or you’ll spoil everything that’s happened for yourselves and be really disappointed while reading these. Sincerest hopes that this doesn’t go badly, Ant.’

Dot laughed. “She gets that from you, dear,” she said, glancing at Samuel. Samuel laughed. “I disagree. I believe that it’s absolutely your fault and nothing you say can do anything other than prove my point further,” he said, his eyes crinkling with suppressed mirth. Dot looked at him the way that you look at someone when they cause you to raise one eyebrow and say ‘what?’ very loudly.

Samuel opened one of the letters and, after reading a few lines, his face paled. “Dot, she’s going to get a dishonorable discharge if none of her kin vouch for her,” Samuel said in a grave voice. He grabbed his coat, kissed his wife on the cheek and said, “I’m going to be gone for a few months. I’ll be back.”

Present day, a few months later; Dorothy goes out to check the mail. She smiles at the postman, but he doesn’t return the smile. “Dot, there was a notice from the army in the post. They-they were asking if you could identify two bodies,” he spoke hesitantly. “And they asked me to give you this to see if you recognized it.” He slowly lifted the bloodstained silver stopwatch out of his pocket.

[eeblouissant]

hii !! @witchybitchybisexual tagged me a while back to answer some tgg questions, and I’ve finally gotten around to it haha! Thank you soso much I had lots of fun with this :D (under the cut so I don’t clog anyones tl)

1. How did you find out about the show?

I was raised on it! My mother always (and I mean always. I’m very grateful she kept all her DVDs in such good condition so that I can rewatch!) had it on in the background when I was little, my great grandma too I believe. (I’m also convinced Bea Arthur was my gay awakening, i used to sit and stare for hoursss lol)

2. One storyline you'd eliminate?

Listen … there are so many but. I feel like you all already know what I’m about to say - firstly, the bit where Dorothy almost marries Stan again. I’d get rid of many of the Stan storylines (and get him much further away from Dorothy, honestly it’s a little upsetting to see him near her at all but maybe I’m just overly sensitive when it comes to the things Dorothy’s been through because of him? He shouldn’t have been a reoccurring character imo.) but that one especially. I can understand the need for it, because it dives into a part of Dorothy’s character that I find very interesting and that I love expanding on, but god it just hurt my heart way too much. He makes me very upset and I’m just a viewer - so I can’t imagine what it would be like for someone to actually have to put up with him. I really think I’m just overly sensitive because of the subject matter but oh well 😅. Anyway - that and, I’d change how the show ended. And not in the way you think !!!! I think it was crucial that Dorothy got her fairytale ending, she deserved it more than anyone (sorry rose, blanche, sophia) after the way she’s always treated, even if it’s not really meant, she deserved to hold that over their heads. I wouldn’t change a thing about that. But I would change that exit scene, where she isn’t able to respond to roses’ “is this goodbye?” It is goodbye. It shouldn’t have been goodbye - I hated that they ended it that way so badly. And the affect is seen later in the golden palace (they don’t even patch things up really!!!!!! It was so horribly done imo!!!! Maybe I’m just bitter I’m not sure 😭)

3. Best guest star/character?

The two times Sophia’s sister appears are my favourites, so I’ll have to go with her 😂

Also - I’m forgetting his name at the moment, but the trans man that made an appearance in that one episode. The way he was never misgendered or deadnamed!! that episode has a very special place in my heart!!! (Jean as well, that episode is also a huge comfort. But I don’t think I need to say that - it’s kind of implied)

4. Character you most relate to?

Dorothy and Rose equally 🚶🏻‍♀️ but is this really a shock at this point lol

5. Favourite character?

Rose !!!!!! You may think otherwise but she will forever be my favourite. She’s just too relatable, I see a lot of myself (unmasked) in her and it brings me a lot of comfort. Shes actually helped me start to be okay with the idea of unmasking a little more outside of the house. I love her soooo so much.

6. Favourite story of a cast member?

This one kind of involves all of them? So I hope it counts, but learning that the crew were the photos in the ‘men of blanches boudoir’ episode 😂 hilarious!! I can’t remember if the girls were expecting it, I hope it all came as a surprise because their reactions seemed genuine!

7. Which was the episode that got you hooked?

I can’t really answer this one because I’ve always loved the show, simply because I grew up on it 😅 my mum & I have a very similar dynamic to Sophia and Dorothy, so I actually think that’s what kept me hooked; the emotions and memories attached! And then of course growing up and picking up on how queer coded those three are, good lord.

8. You could wear one girl's wardrobe for the rest of your life, who would you pick?

Sophia and Rose, no hesitation. Dorothy is too tall and flowy for me (I’m 5’2, no way I’m pulling her wardrobe off lol), Blanche is too, well, Blanche 😭 although I do adore her wardrobe, it’s just definitely not for me (I will however be stealing her robes & housecoats immediately)

9. How many kids do you think they all actually had?

Okay, I know Dorothy for sure only had two. That’s talked about lots. Blanche had four? Because she’s only ever talked about having four, possibly adopting? And Rose, I’m actually unsure, does she ever say it outright 😅? I’d guess three or four. I know we see one or two of her kids but otherwise I’m unsure.

10. Do you think the actresses would've gotten along with their characters if they met in real life?

Why/Why not?

Sophia and Estelle would be two peas in a pod and I stand by that. They both just have this way about them that makes me think it wouldn’t turn out any other way haha

hhhhmmmm … I think that Dorothy and Bea would be able to relate on a different level for sure. Cheating husbands, very specific insecurities (until Bea was a little older that is. Her confidence was contagious!) fashion choices, similar opinions on how comfortable shoes actually are lol - but I feel like Dorothy is a little too much of a romantic. That might have thrown them off. Bea was also a very shy person, and Dorothy is a little more bold. That would have gone one of two ways I think! Either Dorothy ends up being her scary guard dog or they clash for all the wrong reasons 😂

Rose and Betty? I don’t have much to say other than, again, it would have gone one of two ways and been very black and white 😂 either they’re hitting it off, or never speaking again.

Rue mentions once that shes all Blanche with the exception of not being from Atlanta Georgia, and friends of hers have mentioned that she had a hard time shaking Blanche off after the show ended - so, I’d say they’re practically twins 😅 they’d question if they were related!

11. What are your other comfort shows?

The crown! (special interest, you know how it goes), I don’t watch much, because I always fear getting too absorbed in media and developing another fixation 😭 it’s also just hard when I’ve got such intense interests going on. I can’t delve into new media because it’s almost overwhelming? Idk can’t explain that one. Anyway, talk to me about the crown and I’ll marry you on the spot (/j)

12. Headcanons? (Feel free to list as many as you'd like)

Oh BOY. Oh here we go. You’ve all seen many of my headcanons by now so this might get repetitive, but I’ll list some anyway:

First off, because oh my god I think about it daily, Blanche has a natural tan!! Partly because she lays out in the sun so often but I also see her just being born with it. Something about it suits her so well! She gets a tiny bit paler in the winter but in the summer she’s almost unrecognizable (Thank you Blanche for adding some colour to the group lmao, those ladies are white !!!!)

I headcanon strongly that Rose is autistic. Or at the very least neurodivergent somehow (definitely autistic, but you get my point) - as an autistic person she reminds me a lot of myself when I’m unmasked and it’s actually really lovely unintentional representation! I feel so seen by her!

Honestly, a lot of what I would want to headcanon about Dorothy is already canon (her chronic illness, depression, hearing aid etc) but one thing I do headcanon her dealing with that isn’t explicitly stated is dissociation. It would come naturally with that one really awful thing that I won’t name that happened to her - and having to them live with Stanley for 38 years after the fact? I believe dissociation became less of a concern to her and more of a very, very dear friend. Anyway, I’ve rambled on that a million times so I’ll spare you all 😅

I also headcanon that Dorothy is an extremely repressed lesbian, be it her religion or, again, the very awful thing that shall not be named, etc - there’s something about the way she treads so carefully around the topic of lesbianism that just … yeah. We know Dorothy. It’s okay. I headcanon blanche being bisexual, since it’s kind of hinted at once or twice? Or like? Straight up implied? Cut to all the times she just happened to ask Dorothy to “help her out” or pick between her and rose lmao. I can see rose being pan or bi as well, but I think I headcanon her being unlabelled honestly! She just wants to love and be loved, if she loves someone, she loves them!

Honestly, I don’t have many headcanons for Sophia - she’s perfect as she is 😂 10/10 no notes!

13. What would you change (if anything) about the show/ characters if it was set in the modern day?

Again, how it ended, and in this case because of the insane amount of queer coding and subtext - need I say more? I can’t see this show being set in modern times, I honestly think it would ruin the vibe 😅

14. Which other Fictional Characters would you like each one of the golden girls to meet?

oh lord okay, I’ve saved this one for last because I’m actually not sure? I don’t think I can answer this one but I’ll edit and add if anything comes to mind later 😅

15. Who were your favourite duo?

Rose and Dorothy!!!! Although it’s very hard to separate the four, rose and Dorothy always had the most precious scenes.

16. Who should've got more 1:1 screen time with each other?

Rose and Dorothy 😭😭 pleassseeeee oh my god

16. Calmest season?

Two I think!

17. Most chaotic season?

Seven or three - season seven felt rushed, so it felt chaotic in a way I hated, but season three was so filled with lore and things that it felt chaotic for all the right reasons!

18. Favorite Season?

Three and four!

19. If the girls hadn't had their established careers, what other ones could you picture them doing?

Well firstly I’d give Dorothy her antique shop dream, obviously. I cant not see Blanche doing something with the arts… if she really put her mind to it I think she would make an incredible artist. & rose … hhhmmm. Maybe a preschool or kindergarten teacher! (Sophia is exempt here, let the woman rest lol she’s much to old to be working)

20. Best aspects of the show in your opinion?

All the different kinds of representation! How much it leaned into topics that were otherwise considered kind of swept under the rug. There’s been a billion posts made explaining this already though so I’m sure I don’t need to talk anyone’s ear off about it 😅

21. This question is for my fellow cheesecake lovers) favourite cheesecake flavour?

Ohhhh strawberry has to be my favourite.

22. Storyline you wished they had expanded upon?

Okay this is going to sound silly so bare with me, but that time Sophia got a job (dressed up in that pirate costume) - they never expanded on it, in fact she kind of disappeared for the rest of the episode!!!! I have to know what on earth was going on there 😭!!!

23. Questions you'd ask the actresses?

Honestly, if they actually got along. Because there have been rumours and things. (and then, you know. The Thing Rue Said that Bea had said about Betty because of the way she was picking on Estelle. And also Betty admitting that Bea was never too fond of her. I just have to know!) id also ask Bea Arthur specifically what she thought of the possible queer subtext around Dorothy’s character - I have a feeling she’d be fond of it actually 😂

24. Episode that brings you the most comfort?

Any episode that isn’t from the end of season 7 😭 I don’t think I can pick just one

25. Episode that made you laugh the hardest?

The episode where Dorothy sleeps with (or well, attempts to. We all know how that went) stans brother. I could write an essay on that one but oh my GOD I was laughing so hard at the parts that weren’t ripping my heart out!!!

26. Which other work that the actresses did you enjoy the most?

You’re asking me to pick only one of Bea Arthur’s other works???? I’d have to say Maude I think, basic answer I know - but oh my god I love her 😭 I’ll have to say Maude for Rue as well. The Beatrice Arthur special is Very close behind her though. & Betty - hhhmmm. Probably Password (if it counts?)

27. Best St Olaf Story?

The Great herring war hands down - I CANNOT with that scene 😂😂 when rue started to giggle I knew exactly what was about to go down - BEA lost composure, and I’d imagine that’s a hard thing to get her to do!!!!

28. Best slut story?

does this count I’m not sure … but I’m very very fond of that little moment where rose and dorothy are recalling different men Blanche has told them stories about to ask if they’re true (after she admitted that she tends to over exaggerate sometimes) like oh my god. They actually remember all the nonsense Blanche tells them 😂 I can’t !!!!

29. Best Sicily story?

The Pablo Picasso story !!!! Oh my god I think about it daily !!!!!!

30. Which girl would you be most interested in seeing a prequel of? And at which point in their life?

Young Dorothy !!!!!! OH MY GOD !!! She should have had her own show I’m so serious!!!!! The fact that she didn’t get a spin-off is a crime - I don’t know how that never happened. I’m so fascinated by her and how she survived back then. I need all the details big and small or I might (will, I will) die

[mrmichaelchadler]

Figuring It Out: The Films of Laura Dern

Jennifer Fox (Laura Dern) speaks in voiceover in a half-dazed, half-searching tone, as if slowly bringing herself out of a dream. “The story you are about to see is true … as far as I know.” A documentary filmmaker, she’s used to finding ways to look beyond the surface of what people present about themselves; she’ll have to turn that ability on herself. She remembers herself being and looking older than she was, speaking about a man she calls a lover—despite the fact that he was an adult and she was only 13—with a defensive, forced attempt at nonchalance (raised arms, dismissive pitch) that turns pleading, then incensed when she’s called a “victim,” her voice breaking into a raised whisper, her expression into a furious grimace. “This was important to me, and I’m trying to figure out why … Let me just figure this out for myself.”

“The Tale,” debuting on HBO on May 26, is documentary filmmaker Jennifer Fox’s narrative retelling of her experience, and an emotionally searing look at how people process their abuse. The casting of Dern, one of the most adventurous actresses working today, feels apropos, given the performer’s willingness to walk a constant emotional high-wire act and her recent hot streak that includes, but is not limited to, “Enlightened,” “Wild,” “Big Little Lies,” the “Twin Peaks” revival, and “Star Wars: The Last Jedi.” It’s also an instructive text when looking at Dern’s body of work, a career filled with stories of women who have either experienced or witnessed unbearable trauma and who are trying to find the meaning behind it all.

The daughter of two of New Hollywood’s greatest character actors (Bruce Dern and Diane Ladd), Laura Dern began her career in uncredited roles alongside her mother (“White Lightning,” “Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore”) before emancipating herself at 13 when her mother objected to one of her early credited roles in the teenage punk girl drama “Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains.” Dern’s role as one of the members of the Stains is relatively small (it’s largely Diane Lane’s show), but she makes an impression as being kind and empathetic, expressing genuine sympathy when a band member of another touring group overdoses. Dern’s teenage roles draw on her natural warmth and luminous presence; her performance as the blind Diana in “Mask” in particular sees her displaying an unusual level of openness with Eric Stoltz’s Rocky (born with a rare skull deformity), a willingness to accept him for who he is and stray outside her comfort zone for someone who accepts her.

Straying outside one’s comfort zone is central to Joyce Chopra’s “Smooth Talk” (pictured above), which gave Dern her breakout role as Connie Wyatt, a teenage girl hitting her rebellious years and having a hard time of it with her demanding mother. The first half of the film is a remarkable study of a teenager’s tentative first steps toward sexual exploration, with Dern veering back and forth between being marvelously unaffected (tossed-off delivery and leaning posture around her parents) and exaggerated flirtation, like that of someone who’s both fascinated bt sex and stuck in a childish, mocking view of it. She adopts confidence only to shrink away, puts her full body into a kiss before breaking off, admitting that she’s not used to “feeling … this excited.” 

It’s in the second half, when a greaser (Treat Williams) appears outside when she’s home alone that “Smooth Talk” dives headfirst into that discomfort. Dern’s bashful body language gives way to a menacing, dancelike semi-seduction with Williams, shifting from apparent fun and games to something that’s outright predatory, with her demeanor collapsing collapse into hyperventilative terror. She’s in that uncertain place in between childhood and adulthood, when everyone is trying to define themselves, but there are plenty of men who have their own ideas of who she is and what they want from her. “Smooth Talk” would be an ideal (if grueling) double feature with “The Tale,” a young person’s immediate experience with sexual desire, confusion and abuse paired with an adult’s retrospective understanding of that trauma.

Dern received raves for her work, getting her first of two straight Independent Spirit Award nominations (back when they tried to be more than Oscar predictors); her next would come with a part that would bring her to greatest and most important collaborator. Few directors have brought as much out of Dern as David Lynch, but then, few performers have brought as much out of his characters as Dern, beginning with her role as Sandy in “Blue Velvet.” The archetypical girl next door, Sandy has a kind of unearthly wholesomeness that’s best showcased in her monologue about her dream about “robins of love.” The key to Lynch’s work is his belief that the truly good can coexist with the truly wicked. Dern represents the former, delivering the monologue with a whispered awe and reaching hand gestures that border on evangelical before bringing herself down and finding a way to clarify it to her rapt listener/love interest. Sandy and Jeffrey (Kyle MacLachlan) see some terrible things (including a painful moment of trauma that prompts a distorted look of sorrow that’s distinctly Dern), but she remains unwavering in her belief that her dream of light can conquer darkness and make sense of this strange world (would that Isabella Rossellini’s Dorothy were so lucky). 

Dern teamed with Lynch again for 1990’s “Wild at Heart” (pictured above), playing the far more confidently sensual Lula while retaining the same good-heartedness she brought to “Blue Velvet.” It’s a heightened, deliberately iconic role, with Dern leaping into exaggerated dancing, purring with sexual abandon and leaning just so to express her arousal or satisfaction when talking to or about Nicolas Cage’s Elvis-obsessed Sailor. But Lula is also someone who has experienced great pain—the death of her father, her molestation at the hands of his friend, the murderous rage of her mother (played, in a stroke of casting genius, by her real-life mother, Ladd)—and has come out the other end demonstrating a full-bodied, defiant belief in the all-conquering power of love. The film’s “Wizard of Oz” framing device sometimes comes across as a bit forced, but it’s also another example of how Dern’s characters often tell themselves stories to make sense of their lives and guide them from darkness to light. 

Dern’s early adult roles often deal with characters exploring their sexuality at a time or place where that might put them in jeopardy; that’s certainly the case with Martha Coolidge’s “Rambling Rose,” in which her “borderline nymphomaniac” Rose comes to live with the Hillyer family (father Robert Duvall, mother Ladd and teenage son Lukas Haas) after unspecified trouble with men. Dern brings a blithe, bouncy exuberance and confidence to the role, waltzing down the street knowing that her walk can turn heads and her smile win hearts. But Dern also embodies Rose’s goodness, her sexual escapades being the actions of someone who has an intense and open need to be loved, and to be treated with the kindness that she shows the world but that the world hasn’t been good enough to show her. A scene between her and Duvall after she’s caught in bed with a man sees her not going so far as begging, but rather earnestly presenting herself with all cards on the table, an eyes-wide-open, forward-leaning acknowledgement that “I’m only a human girl person, and I ain’t always perfect.” 

“Rambling Rose” earned Dern her first Oscar nomination and preceded two high-profile supporting roles in 1993. As criminologist Sally Gerber in Clint Eastwood’s beautiful “A Perfect World,” she illustrates the impossible situation that Butch (Kevin Costner) was put in as a troubled child with an abusive father, giving a full picture of his trauma and bringing us to empathize with how he became a criminal. As Ellie Sattler in Steven Spielberg’s “Jurassic Park,” Dern plays the warmer counterpart and partner to Sam Neill’s testier Alan Grant, exuding, intelligence, physical capability and a deeper concern for how easily the park can spiral out of control and the consequences that come with it (she also has the ability as an actress to practically unhinge her jaw in terror when things do go wrong). In a key character moment, she pleads empathetically for John Hammond (Richard Attenborough) to recognize how the people they love may get hurt. Both roles cast her as figures of empathy, finding ways to make sense of the reasons why people cause each other pain while trying to prevent it from happening again.

If “A Perfect World” sees Dern asking us to sympathize with a troubled person, Alexander Payne’s “Citizen Ruth” (pictured above) shows how far that should be extended. Make no mistake: Dern’s pregnant, inhalant-addicted Ruth Stoops is a first-class fuck-up. Dern dives headfirst into making her as gross and unlikable as possible, smearing her mouth with inhalant residue, manipulating the same people who are manipulating her (both sides of the abortion debate attempt to co-opt her case for their agenda), and shouting some truly filthy insults (“suck the shit outta my ass, you fucker!”) with gritted teeth and gusto. Yet the actress still finds something sympathetic in her, her downcast eyes and fidgeting fingers communicating her knowledge that she’s fucked up yet again and is about to be on the receiving end of some real hardship. Ruth may sputter with uncertainty when trying to voice the whys behind her right to choose, but Payne and Dern take her choice, and the pain behind what led her to it, seriously (besides, she said it loud and clear the first time).

Dern’s career slowed down in the late 1990s and early 2000s, something she attributed (more than plausibly) to her guest appearance on “Ellen” as a radiant, openly gay woman that causes Ellen DeGeneres’ character to come out herself. She got her first serious critical attention in years in John Curran’s “We Don’t Live Here Anymore” in 2004. The film, about a two couples (Dern and Mark Ruffalo, Naomi Watts and Peter Krause) whose lives are upended when Ruffalo and Watts begin an affair, is too drifting and one-note to draw much blood, but it comes to life whenever Dern’s enraged, emotionally rangy Terry takes focus. Dern adopts a hunched-over posture for her arguments with Ruffalo, her clenched chin jutting out slightly, to show a woman who’s well aware of how she’s being deceived and whose total dismissal to the role of child caretaker (something she does not take to naturally) looks like it’s almost literally weighing her down. Terry’s agonies in “We Don’t Live Here Anymore” are resolutely ordinary, compared with some of the other characters Dern has played, but they’re no less important to her.

Dern reteamed with David Lynch for the truly deranged “Inland Empire,” in which she plays the actress Nikki Grace, getting the comeback of a lifetime with the role of Susan Blue before her role starts bleeding over into her identity (or something … even more than usual with Lynch, describing what actually happens seems futile and beside-the-point). It’s a tour-de-force performance, alternatively put-upon, ferocious, frightened, and whatever one can call this terrifying face. She’s simultaneously the film’s emotional anchor and its constantly metamorphosing nucleus. “Inland Empire” is, at least partially, about the emotional wringer that performers can put themselves through for a role, and how easy it is to mix up one’s own emotions with their character’s. A monologue in which Nikki’s character (?) describes her trauma and her self-defense in a jaded tone that occasionally sparks into violence is later seen in a theater, the actress observing herself. She’s played a character who has lived through real terror, but we see that the actress herself is living in terror, both at home (her husband is deeply controlling and ambiguously threatening) and at work. Does the actress simply play the part, or is she drawn to roles that bring her to relive (and potentially make peace with) her nightmares?

“Inland Empire,” like most of Lynch’s works, does not put its or its characters’ purpose into words so bluntly; Dern’s next major role is a little more easily (and narrowly) defined, but not uninteresting. The 2008 TV movie “Recount” (pictured above) relives the national trauma of Bush v. Gore, the second-most nightmarish presidential election in recent memory. Largely focused on the tactics employed the official campaign teams of Vice President Al Gore (Kevin Spacey, Denis Leary, Ed Begley Jr.) and Governor George W. Bush (Tom Wilkinson, Bob Balaban), the film also takes time with Florida Secretary of State Katherine Harris (Dern) and her poorly disguised efforts to throw the election to Bush. Dern walks a fine line between humanity and cartoon with Harris, whom she portrays as a zealous, wide-eyed ideologue with exaggerated hair and makeup. But she finds the heart of Harris in her true-believer story about Queen Esther sacrificing herself for “the lovely Jewish people,” evangelizing as if her staking her career on Bush winning the election is for the good of the people. Her self-martyring tone is farcical, but it’s also indicative of how political partisans view their work as de facto for the good of the people and a tool to bring a country together after a moment of bitter division, rather than the actions of further division. 

Many of Dern’s more recent film roles have been smaller, supporting parts, but a few have still been notable. In Paul Thomas Anderson’s “The Master,” she has that same true-believer tone as a rich woman who has taken to the new religion of Lancaster Dodd (Philip Seymour Hoffman). Her student’s passion for something that’s given her life meaning is palpable; so is her shocked pain at being rebuked for questioning how, exactly, it can switch teachings so cavalierly, her body practically crumpling at Dodd’s shout. She’s more unflagging in her optimism as Reese Witherspoon’s mother in “Wild” (her second Oscar-nominated performance). Dern comes across in only a handful of small scenes as a vivacious presence who nonetheless knows perfectly well that she’s lived through hell, smiling through memories of pain because it brought her the most important person in her life. She’s the witness to someone else’s pain in Kelly Reichardt’s masterful “Certain Women,” a lawyer to a man (Jared Harris) who got screwed over when accepting a piddling settlement after a workplace injury but who can no longer be helped because of it. One senses her lived-in frustration as he refuses to listen her (then listens to a male colleague who tells him the same thing), but her genuine empathy for a man who she’s effectively powerless to help is also clear. And as Admiral Holdo in “Star Wars: The Last Jedi,” she commands the screen with a steadfast, unwavering certainty that she’s doing the right thing—any assumption of her incompetence be damned—finally proving herself to be among the bravest and most self-sacrificing heroes in the series.

Still, most of Dern’s best recent work has been on television. The brilliant, unjustly canceled “Enlightened” sees Dern’s personality as embedded into the work as Mike White’s (indeed, the two are credited as co-creators). Amy Jellicoe is another of Dern’s troubled heroines trying to find meaning in their lives, following her nervous breakdown first with a genuine attempt to regain the respect of her colleagues, then by becoming a corporate whistleblower in a move that’s half genuine, half out of bitterness. Amy’s a mess, lashing out at people she (rightly or wrongly) believes have wronged her at one moment, then preaching with a sincere but totally oblivious sense of illumination in the next. What holds Dern’s performance together as Amy whips back and forth between manic highs and deadening lows is an ardent, indefatigable expression that it’s possible for her to do something important with her life and potentially make the world a better place, no matter how crazy that world thinks she is. 

Dern returned to HBO in “Big Little Lies,” with her Renata Klein initially set up as an ostensible villain; Dern tears into the overbearing, bullying aspect of Renata, whether she’s stabbing the air with her hands like a maniac or giving a silent but icy glare, shouting her threats at the top of her lungs or whispering them with quiet menace. But there’s still a beating heart in her, a genuine desire to protect her daughter from pain (whether it’s violence at school or the more everyday hurt of someone skipping her birthday party), and the heartbreak in Dern’s voice when she voices her feeling of utter powerlessness (a control freak’s worst nightmare for minor issues, let alone real pain) is unmistakable. Much of the strength in “Big Little Lies” is its belief that flawed women can ultimately come together, forgive each other and help each other along; Dern’s performance is key to that.

And still, “Big Little Lies” had only the second-best Dern performance on television last year. There’s a nostalgic, near-breathless thrill in Dern’s first appearance as Special Agent Dale Cooper’s long-unseen secretary Diane on “Twin Peaks” (or “Twin Peaks: The Return”), an unmistakable callback to their close connection in “Blue Velvet.” Still, one couldn’t have predicted Dern’s delightfully cynical performance, all long drags on cigarettes and venom-spitting “fuck yous,” a far cry from the mostly upbeat Sandy. But even putting aside the eventual revelation about Diane’s nature, it makes sense after decades of disillusionment following a rape by the man she most trusted. That pain comes through in her reunion with Bad Cooper, her voice breaking, her breath quickening; it’s even clearer in her late-series breakdown, her shield of cynicism giving way to trauma flooding back. Even Diane’s return to normalcy is a pyrrhic and only temporary victory, with a sex scene with MacLachlan’s Good Cooper playing less like a triumph and more like a final, deeply sad shared moment between the two (which Dern somehow conveys largely with her back), one of the show’s many acknowledgements that trauma cannot be erased. 

“The Tale,” then, is instead a look at how one lives with that trauma. Fox’s gradual shift to acknowledging something terrible happened is not an easy journey, nor is it a simple one. The film deals heavily with the tortured self-rationalizations and denials employed by both survivors and abusers, ones both sincerely believed and desperately clung to. The final scene is confrontational without being fully cathartic, Dern’s belated but volcanic outrage a moment of her taking her past back (a real triumph) without any illusion that she has expelled that very pain. If there’s something Dern’s best work shows, it’s there forever; one can only try to make sense of it.

from All Content https://ift.tt/2x1Au7m

[emilieexposes-blog]

Tutu’s Exposé

Hello! The new girl had massive Ray Bans, I think they were black or pink, but definitely Ray Bans. The type of glasses that seemed very “middle school” to my fourth grade self.

My name is Tutu! and no I don’t do ballet. I like dancing though.

At such a young age, Tutu composed herself with such bright eyed confidence. I’ve always admired Tutu, to the point where I wanted to be her. She commands every room, every conversation, and makes you feel special.

Fourth grade Tutu clicked her black converse sneakers, like Dorothy’s red slippers. She tossed a few locks of deep hair across her shoulder. At that moment, Tutu didn't take me to Kansas, but she took me home.

I mean, my real name isn’t Tutu. It’s Mariadudaduaa.

I now know that Tutu’s name, is, in fact, Mariela Aduana. And that she is called Tutu because her father said she was “little like a tutu bean” when she was little. The name stuck. In every class we had together at Emery Prep, I remembered Tutu correcting the teachers cheerfully, saying you can call me Tutu. The teacher would respond with a weird look or a wait what? When’d that name come about? Let Tutu be Tutu, and move on, bitches.

Why is Tutu my home? She makes me feel so. Fucking. Special. She smells like deodorant and roses and wool. Her eyebrows don’t really arch and a bunch of hairs come in opposite directions to form two emotive lines. She has very tiny wrists. She talks with her hands a lot.

Tutu talks. A lot. I love it though. There are some people I fucking hate listening to. Like I feel physically pained to listen to their irrelevant stories. Tutu’s interesting. Her voice is tinged with a tiny bit of accent from her foreign parents, and her first language being Portuguese. She speaks with lots of different tones, growing super loud when she gets excited. People always get pissed at us for how loud we are. It’s our thing.

Tutu has always defended me. Defended her Guiffra. I’m so retardedly weird, yet, she fights for me. And loves me. We’ve never fallen out or like, forgotten each other. We aren't “besties”. We don't only gossip. We do gossip a lot, but like we talk about our futures and our ideas and our feelings and out minds. She wants to be a psychologist.

For my sleepover birthday party in fifth grade, I invited Tutu and like, 5 other girls. I don't remember the other 5, I just remember Tutu being there. She brought me a full size Katniss Everdeen cardboard cutout. I flipped my nerdy shit. Best birthday present ever. Can I bring another guest to the party? Fuck yes, you wonderful person.

She worries too much about what people think about her.

I feel this deep seated emotion of my duty to defend Tutu. People have shit talked Tutu to me. So. Many. Times. I know its because they're ridiculously jealous of how she commands a room. And she has a killer body. Those two factors attract a lottttttt of boys. Like, Tutu’s a flirt, which is awesome, but she gets shit for it. I think everyone is a flirt, Tutu is good at it though. Like I don't know. People get annoyed by her and shit talked her for things and I don't even remember what they said or who it was, just that anger boiled inside of me. Don’t fucking mess with Tutu.

I don’t know what Tutu sees in me. But anyone for that matter.

im kinda just me like yo yolo whats good its giuffra take me or leave me. ill kiss ur neck and talk politics and confuse the shit out of you and never speak to you again. im not custom fit. take me or leave.

I’m still jealous of Tutu. She commands a room. I’ve probably said that thirty times. She does. I cant explain why, like really, as much as I try.

Her laugh is so nice and trinkle-y. Like the sound a glass of water makes when you hit it with a spoon. She has big teeth and a big smile and big lips which makes it even cuter. Tutu also has a lot of style. Props.

She’s going somewhere in life. I just wanna sit and get high and think and maybe write and have sex with hot men and go to Yale and make money. Tutu wants to help people. And analyze the shit out of peoples brain. She does a lot of analyzing. That what makes her able to read people and command a room. It’s because she cares. Her care about each and every little thing makes you yourself want to care.

Tutu has really soft buttery skin and gives good hugs. Tutu’s family is pretty cool, too. Marco is some child genius. Her mother is a supermodel. They’re all chill.

I never realized how much Tutu actually liked me. Or likes me. I honestly don't know why? As I said, I’m not a person who cares.

That’s a fucking lie.

I care so much. Accept me. I’ve figured out the whole nonchalant act makes people think I’m funny and people like funny people. But, as I said, Tutu is home, so I’m my pure and unedited self around her. So, I guess I don’t care. But my genius, philosopher/stoner-eque nonchalance is the not caring I put up for other people. The not caring with Tutu, is genuinely not caring. Our conversation flows like the ink out of a new pen, not a struggling stiff typewriter. Eek eek.

I really love Tutu. I kinda realize how happy she makes me right after I leave her. I feel like I’m in a bubble of golden chocolatey bliss that no one can break. Stupid boys mess with my head and my parents flip their shit on me and bitchy girls make lewd comments. But Tutu’s unexplainable golden bubble brings me home.

I miss her a ton. Like. Woah. I’m not super super sentimental to my hellish Emery Prep years. I honestly just miss like Anya and Bethany and Ms. Price and Tutu. 4 people who touch my heart and make me feel special.

Tutu embodies Emery and my experience there. The thing is, Emery was my hell. Yet, Tutu is my bubble of bliss. Trippppppy. One of the happiest things in my life is the essence of something I thought of as the bane of my existence. Again, Tutu makes hell into heaven and turns the negative shit into the positive. She has red golden goose. She’s my golden girl.

[rachelkaser]

Stay Golden Sunday: Big Daddy’s Little Lady

Blanche’s father returns with a new fiancée who’s younger than his daughter. Dorothy and Rose write the world’s greatest song about Miami.

Picture It...

Sophia is skimming the obituaries for recent deaths to see if there are any widowers she can pick up for a date, to Dorothy’s disapproval. Rose enters, excited about a songwriting contest. It’s for a song about Miami, and there’s a $10,000 prize pool for the winner. Rose wants to enter, saying she’s written songs before, but Dorothy swiftly realizes her lyric-writing abilities are lacking. She offers her own experience poetry-writing and they agree to write up the song together. Blanche enters the kitchen just in time to get a phone call from her father. He’s apparently got a surprise for Blanche and is coming that weekend to reveal it.

DOROTHY: We could be the next Rodgers and Hammerstein! The next Simon and Garfunkel! The next-- ROSE: Shari Lewis and Lamb Chop! DOROTHY: ...I don’t think i could get my hand that far up your dress. But I’ll tell you, for $10,000 I’d be willing to give it a shot.

Rose and Dorothy are working at a piano in the living room (how they got a piano isn’t really explained), testing to see how Dorothy’s lyrics and Rose’s tune go together. The music is good, but requires messing with the lyrics. The two quickly get into a dispute over the word “thrice” and are forced to take a break. Dorothy says there are some words, such as “intrauterine” that don’t belong in a song (not that it stops Rose from trying). Blanche enters, as her father is about to arrive.

Mr. Hollingsworth arrives and delivers yet more compliments to both his daughter and to Sophia. (Sophia: “Get out the boots. He’s back.”) He tells Blanche that he’s met a widow named Margaret Spencer and they’ve been seeing each other for some time. Blanche wants to meet her, and Big Daddy reveals his surprise: He and Margaret are getting married. Blanche shrieks in glee and offers to throw the wedding herself, to which Big Daddy agrees.

Rose and Dorothy are trying out their latest composition before Blanche, and it’s going well until Blanche points out that the lyrics “M-I-A-M-I spells Miami Beach” aren’t accurate. Rose and Dorothy bicker about it, with Dorothy challenging Rose to come up with a rhyme for “Miami,” and Rose coming up with salami, pronounced “sah-lammy.” Blanche leaves the room to go prepare for the wedding caterer to arrive. There’s a ring at the bell, and Dorothy answers to admit a beautiful redhead, in her 40s at the oldest, who introduces herself as Margaret Spencer.

Rose, Dorothy, and Blanche, who enters at that moment, are surprised that Big Daddy’s squeeze is so young and attractive. Margaret attempts to make polite conversation with Blanche, who starts making barbed remarks about how young Margaret is. Coincidentally Big Daddy arrives and Dorothy and Rose quickly usher Margaret out to the lanai before the fireworks start. Blanche tells Big Daddy that she thinks Margaret is a “gold-digging hussy” and he’s making a fool of himself. Offended, Big Daddy takes Margaret and leaves, saying he’ll cut Blanche off if she can’t respect his decisions.

ROSE: Sometimes two people who seem to have the least in common turn out to be the most in love. That was certainly the case with Ollie Nofstetlermeyer and Molly Jane Doe. BLANCHE: “Ollie and Molly?” Must we take yet another trip to Petticoat Junction?

Later that night, Dorothy and Rose are having songwriter’s block and meet with Sophia in the kitchen for cheesecake. Blanche, still stressed about the situation with her father, enters and asks for a piece. They try to tell her that it’s not that bad, and older men frequently date younger women. Rose tells a St. Olaf story to prove her point about how love has no boundaries -- and it’s not anyone’s business. Blanche protests that it’s her business and decides to go confront them at their hotel. As she leaves, she drops a line that gets Dorothy and Rose’s creative juices flowing.

Blanche arrives at the hotel and asks to talk to her father. She tells him that she understands how being older and being a widower, he must be lonely, but doesn’t understand why he wants to marry such a younger woman. Big Daddy responds that it’s very difficult to watch the person you love die, and to find love again. Blanche thinks he means her mother, but he was actually referring to Margaret, whose first husband died years earlier after a long illness.

BLANCHE: Sophia, you know people in their 70s and 80s can have great sex. SOPHIA: Yeah, with people in their 70s and 80s. Put me in a bedroom with Tom Cruise, and you’d be peeling me off the ceiling. 

Blanche, stunned at this news, apologizes for being so protective of her father. He says he and Margaret still want her blessing, and Margaret returns just then. Blanche tells Margaret that she’s glad they both want the best for Big Daddy and welcomes the other woman into her family. They hug as Big Daddy looks on with a smile. Sometime later, Blanche shows Sophia a postcard from the honeymoon, and Sophia congratulates her on handling it well.

Rose and Dorothy return from the songwriting contest looking glum. Blanche asks how they did, and they say they came in second place. But they don’t have anything to show for it, and they were treated rudely while at the contest. Blanche asks to hear their song, and they put up a token resistance before running over to the keyboard. We close out the episode with the best musical moment of the entire series.

“Rose, play or die.”

Big Daddy returns just a few episodes after he made his first appearance, played by David Wayne following the death of Murray Hamilton. His decisions continue to be a bit questionable, but his decision to marry a gorgeous redhead half his age is a bit more understandable than his decision to try and hack it as a singer. However, his story is completely eclipsed by the songwriting part of the episode. But more on that in a moment.

ROSE: [telling a St. Olaf story] A lot people don’t know this, but the family drama Hey, That’s My Tractor got its start right there. DOROTHY: Wasn’t the musical version called Hey Hey, That’s My Tractor?

Blanche learns the same lesson this episode that she did in the previous episode Big Daddy was in (and that Rose learned when her mother was visiting), which is basically, “Don’t treat your parent like a child who needs correcting just because they make choices with which you don’t agree.” It’s getting a little repetitive, but to give her the benefit of the doubt, I do think Big Daddy's behavior is a little more worrying than Alma Lindstrom’s was.

Big Daddy’s been very blithe about his lifestyle choices in both episodes, and I don’t know if it’s just the inherent privilege of being a rich, older man that he doesn’t seem to realize how unusual his actions are. Starting a country-western singing career in your 80s and selling all your property to do it is worrying no matter which way you slice it. And while marrying a beautiful younger woman isn’t as bad, the fact that he says he didn’t tell Blanche because, “I didn’t think age mattered to you,” is either extremely naïve or nakedly manipulative, with his previous behavior making me lean towards the former.

BLANCHE: Rose, Dorothy, smell me! DOROTHY: I only do that with the milk, Blanche, you know the rules.

I’m all in favor of loving whoever makes you happy, but let’s be honest: Marrying a woman younger than your adult daughter, no matter how much you might genuinely love her (the wife, I mean), is unusual and not always indicative of a healthy partnership. Not telling your daughter about it and then acting shocked when she finds out and assumes the younger woman is taking advantage is the epitome of head-in-sandedness (I used to call this “ostriching,” but fun fact: Burying their heads is not a thing ostriches actually do).

I’ve learned via my usual sources that this episode originally featured much more dialogue from Margaret Spencer. Lots of Big Daddy’s dialogue was originally hers, or at least so actress Sondra Currie tells it (her friends said the finished episode features so much of the back of her head she might as well be auditioning for a shampoo commercial). I wonder if some of the lines, such as Margaret’s backstory about her late husband or the assertion that age doesn’t matter to her and Big Daddy, would have sounded better coming from her. I suppose we’ll never know.

Unfortunately for Big Daddy, we’re now 2-for-2 on episodes featuring him where the B-plot is significantly more interesting than the A-plot in which he features. Dorothy and Rose writing a song together and performing several iterations of it throughout the episode is just the best thing. The fact that this part of the episode is so memorable is why I feel comfortable giving it five slices even when I’m not crazy about the Big Daddy storyline.

Watching Dorothy and Rose clash over the piano is just perfect writing, and even their “bad” songs are better than a lot of other songs I’ve heard. I honestly can’t come up with anything else to say about it -- if you’ve seen the episode you know why every single part of the episode as it relates to their songwriting is solid gold and needs no introduction. Everything from “intrauterine” to “salamee” is worth a laugh, and the final song is a banger and I will fight anyone who says differently.

DOROTHY: You know, Rose, I have to confess I dabbled a little in poetry-writing in high school. ROSE: Oh, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. A lot of tall girls who couldn’t get dates wrote poetry in high school. [...] ROSE: Blanche, Dorothy and I have decided to enter a songwriting contest together! BLANCHE: Oh, now that sounds like fun! You know, I always wanted to write a song, but it’s kinda like writing poetry, which I was never any good at. Only the tall girls who couldn’t get dates ever seemed to be good at poetry.

Though they should have won the contest, I’m glad they didn’t win, because apparently part of the prize was having your picture taken with Anita Bryant -- who is infamously against gay rights and has campaigned to have them either revoked or not put in place at all, so fuck her. She also berated her granddaughter, Sarah Green, when she came out as gay, saying that homosexuality is a “delusion invented by the devil.” So again, fuck her. Fuck her in particular.

I’m a little disappointed Sophia didn’t have much to do this episode. It’s always a shame when the episode doesn’t give a lot of screentime. She’s only got two minor scenes related to trying to pick up dates from recently widowed men, which is fairly banal as far as humor goes, even if it does provide a counterpoint to Big Daddy dating a much-younger widow. Kind of makes me wonder why Big Daddy didn’t try dating Sophia since he always seems so impressed with her, though Sophia’s complete lack of patience with all things Southern would have quickly put an end to that.

Episode rating: 🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰 (five cheesecake slices out of five)

Favorite part of the episode:

Once more, for the road: