#carolyn slaughter

[widowshill]

reminder to myself to find and upload the article about the gendered enlightenment/scientific reason vs superstitious persecution in Carmilla and it’s resulting ambiguously supernatural narrative because. it’s so formative to the way I think and write about ds lmao it needs to be on some kind of blog syllabus.

[blogger360ncislarules]

TV’s number one crime-solving nun is back in action—and will be celebrating the holidays this winter.

Filming has started, in and around the Cotswolds, on the fourth series of the BBC Studios drama Sister Boniface Mysteries, created by Jude Tindall. It will air next year on BritBox International and on UKTV’s U&Drama in the UK. It has also been announced that the show will return for another feature-length Christmas special this December, written by Tindall and directed by Paul Gibson. See photos of Lorna Watson, who plays Sister Boniface, on the set and in the Christmas special above and below.

“It’s brilliant to be back with the gang for series four,” said Watson in a statement. “I feel very lucky to be part of such a lovely show and can’t wait to get cracking, solving crime in the Cotswolds sunshine.”

Gary Moyes – Courtesy of BritBox

In addition to Watson as the Vespa driving, crime-solving, Catholic nun, also returning are Max Brown as DI Sam Gillespie, Jerry Iwu as DS Felix Livingstone, and Ami Metcalf as WPC Peggy Button. The Series 4 guest cast includes Les Dennis, Katherine Kingsley, Martyn Ellis, Mina Anwar, Ed Birch, and Daniel Laurie.

The Christmas special features the Great Slaughter Amateur Dramatics Society (GSADS) pantomime. This year it’s Cinderella and with the appointment of a celebrity director the pressure is on to deliver their biggest and best performance yet. Rehearsals begin, but soon cast members start dropping like flies. Can Sister Boniface catch the killer before they strike again? Will GSADS give the public the festive theatrical treat they deserve? And, most importantly, can Sam and Felix pull off a polka in a pantomime horse?

Also coming up in the series, a bucking bronco goes haywire on the set of a game show, a killer scarecrow stalks the streets of Great Slaughter, the Scottish invade, a femme fatale drops to her death in a stunt gone wrong, and CC Lowsley (Robert Dawes) has arranged some team building. Meanwhile, Reverend Mother Adrian (Carolyn Pickles) is keeping a secret, and it could tear the Sisters lives apart.

“I’m thrilled that TV’s favourite forensic nun is returning for a fourth series. The alchemy created by Jude, Lorna and our wonderful cast and Midlands crew continues to delight viewers worldwide,” Neil Irvine, Executive Producer at BBC Studios said. “This series sees a serial killer on the loose at the Christmas Pantomime and a threat to the convent itself. I can’t wait for the audience to find out if this is the end for St Vincent’s…”

Sister Boniface Mysteries is made by BBC Studios Drama Productions as a co-production for BritBox International and UKTV. The script producer is Dawn Coulson-Beckett. Executive producers are Neil Irvine for BBC Studios, Stephen Nye and Robert Schildhouse for BritBox International, and Claire Hookway for UKTV.

[dollanganger-in-the-attic]

I found out about a book called “the story of the weasel” or sometimes called “relations” by Carolyn Slaughter and its has some interesting similarities to FITA but it also predates FITA by 2-3 years?

Thanks for the heads up, i looked it up

The fact that its about siblings named Catherine and Christopher!!! Hello????

Might have to give it a read 👀

[wankerwatch]

Commons Vote

On: Passenger Railway Services Bill (Public Ownership) Bill: Committee: Amendment 14

Ayes: 111 (95.5% Con, 4.5% DUP) Noes: 362 (97.0% Lab, 2.5% Ind, 0.6% SDLP) Absent: ~177

Day's business papers: 2024-9-3

Likely Referenced Bill: Passenger Railway Services (Public Ownership) Bill

Description: A Bill to make provision for passenger railway services to be provided by public sector companies instead of by means of franchises.

Originating house: Commons Current house: Commons Bill Stage: 3rd reading

Individual Votes:

Ayes

Conservative (106 votes)

Alan Mak Alberto Costa Alex Burghart Alicia Kearns Alison Griffiths Andrew Bowie Andrew Murrison Andrew Rosindell Andrew Snowden Aphra Brandreth Ashley Fox Ben Obese-Jecty Ben Spencer Bernard Jenkin Blake Stephenson Bob Blackman Bradley Thomas Caroline Dinenage Caroline Johnson Charlie Dewhirst Chris Philp Claire Coutinho Damian Hinds Danny Kruger David Davis David Mundell David Reed David Simmonds Desmond Swayne Edward Argar Edward Leigh Gagan Mohindra Gareth Bacon Gareth Davies Gavin Williamson Geoffrey Cox George Freeman Greg Smith Gregory Stafford Harriet Cross Harriett Baldwin Helen Whately Iain Duncan Smith Jack Rankin James Cartlidge James Cleverly James Wild Jeremy Hunt Jeremy Wright Jerome Mayhew Jesse Norman Joe Robertson John Cooper John Glen John Hayes John Lamont John Whittingdale Joy Morrissey Julia Lopez Julian Lewis Karen Bradley Katie Lam Kemi Badenoch Kevin Hollinrake Kieran Mullan Kit Malthouse Laura Trott Lewis Cocking Lincoln Jopp Louie French Mark Francois Mark Garnier Mark Pritchard Martin Vickers Matt Vickers Mel Stride Mike Wood Mims Davies Neil Hudson Neil O'Brien Neil Shastri-Hurst Nick Timothy Nigel Huddleston Oliver Dowden Patrick Spencer Peter Bedford Peter Fortune Priti Patel Rebecca Harris Rebecca Paul Rebecca Smith Richard Fuller Richard Holden Robbie Moore Robert Jenrick Saqib Bhatti Sarah Bool Shivani Raja Simon Hoare Steve Barclay Stuart Anderson Stuart Andrew Suella Braverman Tom Tugendhat Victoria Atkins Wendy Morton

Democratic Unionist Party (5 votes)

Carla Lockhart Gavin Robinson Gregory Campbell Jim Shannon Sammy Wilson

Noes

Labour (351 votes)

Abena Oppong-Asare Abtisam Mohamed Adam Jogee Adam Thompson Afzal Khan Al Carns Alan Campbell Alan Gemmell Alan Strickland Alex Baker Alex Ballinger Alex Barros-Curtis Alex Davies-Jones Alex Mayer Alex McIntyre Alex Norris Alex Sobel Alice Macdonald Alison Hume Alison McGovern Alistair Strathern Allison Gardner Amanda Hack Amanda Martin Andrew Cooper Andrew Gwynne Andrew Lewin Andrew Pakes Andrew Ranger Andrew Western Andy MacNae Andy McDonald Andy Slaughter Angela Eagle Anna Dixon Anna Gelderd Anna McMorrin Anna Turley Anneliese Dodds Anneliese Midgley Antonia Bance Ashley Dalton Baggy Shanker Bambos Charalambous Barry Gardiner Bayo Alaba Beccy Cooper Becky Gittins Ben Coleman Ben Goldsborough Bill Esterson Blair McDougall Brian Leishman Callum Anderson Calvin Bailey Carolyn Harris Cat Smith Catherine Atkinson Catherine Fookes Catherine McKinnell Catherine West Charlotte Nichols Chi Onwurah Chris Bloore Chris Curtis Chris Elmore Chris Evans Chris Hinchliff Chris Kane Chris McDonald Chris Murray Chris Vince Chris Ward Chris Webb Christian Wakeford Claire Hazelgrove Claire Hughes Clive Betts Clive Efford Clive Lewis Connor Naismith Connor Rand Damien Egan Dan Aldridge Dan Carden Dan Jarvis Dan Norris Dan Tomlinson Daniel Francis Danny Beales Darren Paffey Dave Robertson David Burton-Sampson David Pinto-Duschinsky David Smith David Taylor Dawn Butler Debbie Abrahams Deirdre Costigan Derek Twigg Diana Johnson Douglas Alexander Douglas McAllister Elaine Stewart Ellie Reeves Elsie Blundell Emily Darlington Emily Thornberry Emma Foody Emma Lewell-Buck Euan Stainbank Fabian Hamilton Fleur Anderson Florence Eshalomi Frank McNally Gareth Snell Gareth Thomas Gen Kitchen Gerald Jones Gill Furniss Gill German Gordon McKee Graeme Downie Graham Stringer Grahame Morris Gregor Poynton Gurinder Singh Josan Harpreet Uppal Heidi Alexander Helen Hayes Helena Dollimore Henry Tufnell Ian Lavery Ian Murray Imogen Walker Irene Campbell Jack Abbott Jacob Collier Jade Botterill Jake Richards James Asser James Frith James Naish Janet Daby Jayne Kirkham Jeevun Sandher Jeff Smith Jen Craft Jenny Riddell-Carpenter Jess Asato Jess Phillips Jessica Morden Jessica Toale Jim Dickson Jim McMahon Jo Platt Jo Stevens Jo White Joani Reid Jodie Gosling Joe Morris Joe Powell Johanna Baxter John Grady John Healey John Slinger John Whitby Jon Pearce Jon Trickett Jonathan Brash Jonathan Davies Jonathan Hinder Josh Dean Josh Fenton-Glynn Josh MacAlister Josh Newbury Julia Buckley Julie Minns Juliet Campbell Justin Madders Karin Smyth Karl Turner Kate Osamor Kate Osborne Katie White Katrina Murray Keir Mather Kerry McCarthy Kevin Bonavia Kim Johnson Kim Leadbeater Kirith Entwistle Kirsteen Sullivan Kirsty McNeill Laura Kyrke-Smith Lauren Edwards Lauren Sullivan Laurence Turner Lee Barron Lee Pitcher Leigh Ingham Lewis Atkinson Liam Byrne Liam Conlon Lilian Greenwood Lillian Jones Linsey Farnsworth Liz Kendall Liz Twist Lizzi Collinge Lloyd Hatton Lola McEvoy Louise Haigh Louise Jones Lucy Powell Lucy Rigby Luke Akehurst Luke Charters Luke Murphy Luke Myer Margaret Mullane Marie Tidball Mark Ferguson Mark Hendrick Mark Sewards Mark Tami Markus Campbell-Savours Marsha De Cordova Martin Rhodes Mary Glindon Mary Kelly Foy Matt Bishop Matt Rodda Matt Turmaine Matt Western Matthew Patrick Matthew Pennycook Maureen Burke Meg Hillier Melanie Onn Melanie Ward Miatta Fahnbulleh Michael Payne Michael Shanks Michael Wheeler Michelle Scrogham Michelle Welsh Mike Amesbury Mike Kane Mike Reader Mike Tapp Mohammad Yasin Nadia Whittome Natalie Fleet Natasha Irons Naushabah Khan Navendu Mishra Neil Coyle Neil Duncan-Jordan Nesil Caliskan Nia Griffith Nicholas Dakin Nick Smith Nick Thomas-Symonds Noah Law Oliver Ryan Olivia Bailey Olivia Blake Pam Cox Pamela Nash Pat McFadden Patricia Ferguson Patrick Hurley Paul Davies Paul Foster Paul Waugh Paula Barker Paulette Hamilton Perran Moon Peter Dowd Peter Kyle Peter Lamb Peter Swallow Phil Brickell Polly Billington Preet Kaur Gill Rachael Maskell Rachel Blake Rachel Hopkins Rachel Taylor Richard Baker Richard Quigley Rosie Duffield

Rupa Huq Ruth Cadbury Ruth Jones Sadik Al-Hassan Sally Jameson Sam Carling Sam Rushworth Samantha Dixon Samantha Niblett Sarah Champion Sarah Coombes Sarah Edwards Sarah Hall Sarah Jones Sarah Owen Sarah Sackman Satvir Kaur Scott Arthur Sean Woodcock Seema Malhotra Sharon Hodgson Shaun Davies Simon Lightwood Simon Opher Siobhain McDonagh Sojan Joseph Sonia Kumar Stella Creasy Stephanie Peacock Stephen Kinnock Stephen Timms Steve Race Steve Witherden Steve Yemm Sureena Brackenridge Tahir Ali Taiwo Owatemi Tanmanjeet Singh Dhesi Tim Roca Toby Perkins Tom Collins Tom Hayes Tom Rutland Tonia Antoniazzi Tony Vaughan Torcuil Crichton Torsten Bell Tracy Gilbert Tristan Osborne Uma Kumaran Valerie Vaz Vicky Foxcroft Warinder Juss Wes Streeting Will Stone Yasmin Qureshi Yuan Yang Zubir Ahmed

Independent (9 votes)

Apsana Begum Ayoub Khan Imran Hussain Jeremy Corbyn John McDonnell Rebecca Long Bailey Richard Burgon Shockat Adam Zarah Sultana

Social Democratic & Labour Party (2 votes)

Claire Hanna Colum Eastwood

[zedecksiew]

Hang Tuah's Footprint

On Friday Sharon and a pair of friends (Marc and Carolyn) and I hiked up and down the Tanjung Tuan Forest Reserve, to see the shrine / keramat dedicated to Hang Tuah's footprint.

Hang Tuah is the archetypal Malay hero:

learned (he spoke a dozen languages before he hit puberty);

worldly (he embarked on diplomatic missions, as distant as the Ottoman Empire);

loyal to a fault (he slew his bosom brother at the behest of the sultan, a jealous, cowardly man).

Arguably the Hikayat Hang Tuah---the text which most thoroughly recounts Hang Tuah's deeds---was commissioned by royalty precisely to reify their position and provide subjects with a model for feudal obeisance (hence Tuah's blind obedience).

He was also a hero with demigodly powers.

Maybe he was able to leap far and fly? Perhaps his martial arts were just that powerful. The site in Tanjung Tuan is reputedly where Tuah alighted, on one of his journey, thereby indenting the rock with his footprint.

It has been a venerated site for a long while:

"Some come to ask for children or partners, others come with chickens, to repay their good fortune," he told BH.

Ishak laughed as he recounted his youth, where he and his village friends would wait for visitors to leave, before rounding up the chickens they'd left there.

According to him, visitors left live chickens as gifts for the spirit or saint they worshipped, following a taboo against slaughtering animals at the site.

When Sharon visited the site last, she saw the paved altar covered with food offerings and incense; fabrics girding surrounding trees and the lip of the nearby well; the paths swept clean, kept clear of trash.

Hang Tuah's footprint is not a shrine any more.

The sign reads:

The practice of veneration / superstition YOU WILL BE PUNISHED Fine of RM2,000.00 Or Jail of 18 months Or Both Section 69 of the (Melaka State) Syariah Offences Enactment 1991 Thank You For NOT practicing veneration / superstition in the state of Melaka

Now the paved altar is carpeted with leaves. The stone is bare. The trunks nude. There's is an air of ruin. Trash is strewn on the path.

The well is naked, and silent, and green. Left to muck and pond skaters.

Carolyn remarked that it felt like violence had been done here.

I agree. A heritage, a culture, sprung up organically. A hero, wrestled by time and need away from the aristocracy to hear and serve the prayers of common folk, a trade in gifts and respect---

Once again repossessed and demolished by power. The state as uncaring cultural landlord.

We did what we could. Previous visitors, folks who still had respect for the site, had left small scarves behind, tucked into the ridges of the bark.

Sharon left a good-morning towel there, with the other cloths. I think this towel was an art object created by hrftype, a design studio; they are responsible for the text on it. "Cayalah!" is a Malaysian exclamation:

"You better believe it!"

[thatbadadvice]

Help! Tattoos!!!!!

Carolyn Hax, Washington Post, 11 March 2022:

Dear Carolyn: My future sister-in-law, whom I have never met, just informed me that her entire left arm has tattoos on it, including skulls soaking in blood. I am not a tattoo person and I am kind of freaked out. I had planned on the bridesmaids wearing spaghetti-strap dresses. What do I do? — W.

Dear W.,

BURN THE WITCH! DIG UP HER BACKYARD AND EXPOSE THE SKELETONS OF THE CHILDREN SHE DEVOURS TO SUSTAIN HER EVIL POWERS! SLAUGHTER THE BILLY GOAT SHE KEEPS AS A FAMILIAR AND SACRIFICE IT TO THE LORD YOUR GOD AND PRAY THAT HE TAKES MERCY UPON THIS CURSED FAMILY! BREAK OFF THE WEDDING BEFORE YOU YOURSELF ARE SUCKED INTO THE BOWELS OF HELL AS PUNISHMENT FOR YOUR ASSOCIATION WITH AN AGENT OF SATAN!

[latibvles]

SAD, BEAUTIFUL, TRAGIC.

beautiful, tragic // hyacinthus

fragrant, flowering plants, commonly called hyacinths.

masterlist | gallery | taglist

WARNINGS: descriptions of blood, gore, bodies, suicidal ideation in a historical context (the Japanese refusal to surrender), bullet wounds, and exhaustion. haha guys remember those nice kissing prompts haha please forgive me for this.

SUMMARY: at its root, a nurse's job is to care for the wounded, to save lives in a setting where the goal is to snuff it out. but knowing the difficulties and experiencing them firsthand are two vastly different things.

TAGLIST: @softguarnere , @brassknucklespeirs , @liebgotts-lovergirl , @monalisastwin

DEDICATIONS: to my beloved bella ( @brassknucklespeirs ) for beta-reading this chapter like three weeks ago when i was having horrific dread over posting it. you are my beloved SBT secret keeper forever >:) ♡ also when she read this chapter it was called “damn ma do you treat wounds with those hands??” just so we all are on the same page.

Is it cruel that she finds treating men she doesn’t know easier?

There’s a sick sort of relief in not knowing names or faces or how the men in Dog Company handle their liquor. It’s a selfish thought, one that Daisy keeps to herself, because even though it logically makes sense, she can’t help but feel that it’s, fundamentally, not a good thing to voice.

It doesn’t change the fact that when a stranger dies, it hurts less than when a friend does, which is what it comes down to at the basic level. It always hurts, even a little bit, because knowing that she can’t save everyone doesn’t mean she won’t try — but at the very least, she won’t be burying a friend.

So maybe it’s selfish, and a little cruel, but dealing with this onslaught is undeniably easier than dealing with it up with Easy Company.

The Germans, for some godforsaken reason, decided that erratic, disorderly assaults would be to their advantage. In response, the men remained stubborn in their foxholes for a whole day. So no ground was lost, but the plains were bloodied and corpses were plentiful the morning of October 10th — Germans sprawled out on the grass and GIs slumped in the pits. They help who they can, and somehow, she finds herself helping Carolyn pluck the dog tags from those who weren’t as lucky.

“That whole damn thing reminded me of the Pacific,” she states as she slips into the hole, kneeling in front of a Private with cold, lifeless eyes. From the edge, Daisy watches with a grimace. He looks as young as Guarnere. “That's what they’ll do. It’ll be a nice quiet night and then… POW! Japanese on all sides. N’ they’d charge right into a suicide run all the same.” She accentuates it by bringing a fist to her palm, before finally grabbing the tags. Daisy shudders at that.

Some of the men were horrified once light began to peek over the horizon. It’s different seeing the carnage in the daylight. Bodies mutilated beyond compare by rifles or machine guns, contorted in ways that they never would be in life. Like sheep to slaughter. In spite of her own reservations, she can’t help but wonder who in their right mind would order this as they pass by another German corpse, mangled from an artillery round.

Blood crusted over her hands, dirt beneath her nails, she keeps eyeing the line where the Germans charged the night prior.

“And they don't surrender either. They’d prefer to die.”

Daisy frowns. Carolyn rolls a handful of dog tags in her hand with a blank expression.

“Sounds terrible.” She remarks with a grimace.

“That’s one way of putting it,” they begin to make their way back off the front line in a hurried pace, towards Battalion CP. “Now let’s just hope Sergeant DiMarzio is there for me to hand these off.” She wonders aloud. Daisy raises a brow at that.

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Carolyn looks at her, and her lips tug into a frown, like she’s queasy or otherwise unwell. She avoids Daisy’s gaze for a moment, taking a lip between her teeth.

“There’s supposed to be an all-day patrol today, and I’m pretty sure he and ah… Speirs are going, with a few others.” Her eyes flit back to Daisy, then looks her up and down. Daisy’s lips pull into a frown in the examining way Carolyn stares at her.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Carolyn purses her lips, going to rub the nape of her neck and shifting her gaze ahead once again.

“I mean — he’s your friend right? You and him and James were all close?” At that, Daisy wants to facepalm, but fights the urge to. Regardless, her face feels hot and she wants to curse herself for jumping to conclusions. “Just wondered if you were worried or not. About him.” She bites her cheek for a moment and swallows hard, prying her gaze away from the side of Carolyn’s face as the redhead turns to look at her fully, like breaking eye contact would grant her some kind of protection.

“We used to be. He’s closer to my brother than me. We get along well enough,” Daisy hopes, prays even, that Carolyn will let the topic die out and talk about anything else. She glances to the side. Carolyn’s brows are furrowed, like she’s confused.

“James told me all three of you were thick as thieves.”

“James hasn’t been home in a while.” It’s an immediate response, and maybe it comes out harsher than she intends for it to be. Daisy turns to look at her, and frowns. “...sorry, that was rude.” Carolyn shakes her head, waving her hand dismissively at the apology. Still, she looks Daisy up and down in an examining sort of way. She comes for a halt, a few feet away from CP, and Daisy stops beside her.

“Then… What changed? You just— you two seemed to be pretty close. From what I’ve seen.”

What changed? She’s asked herself that question a million times — from the day he left to the day she arrived. James hadn’t been there for walks through town at night, or hugs that last too long, or kisses on the cheek that burn and linger long after the giver has been pulled away by train. He hadn’t been there for ‘Missing you, Daisy’ or ‘Thinking of you, Ronnie.’ He wasn’t there to witness Daisy’s flushed cheeks or fluttering heart, and he wasn’t there to wipe her tears before she cut the strings on the whole thing. He wasn’t there when home stopped feeling like home. What changed? It was more like what didn’t change. But that isn’t the answer Carolyn wants. So she shrugs, rubs the nape of her neck.

“War separated us. That’s all.”

Another eerily quiet night in with Catherine and Carolyn, the other women around them getting much needed rest. They spent the majority of the day loading stretchers onto ambulances to be evacuated from the area, before more are loaded in. They aren’t overrun with casualties, which is nice, but watching men moan and grovel in pain is never easy. By the time it’s slowed down, they all look a bit worse for wear.

Ward, ever the saint, encourages Daisy to get some sleep, that she’ll wake her if there’s anything pressing, and for once — Daisy doesn’t have it in her to argue. She slumps in an unoccupied chair, wrapping her arms around herself in a hug and leaning her head up against one of the wooden beams holding up the barn. Her eyes flutter shut, and she doesn’t know how long she’s stuck in that space between being asleep and awake. She can hear Catherine and Carolyn’s quiet murmurings, but doesn’t have it in her to respond. And she’s thankful that the entire thing is decidedly dreamless. She hears another noise, distantly, but it’s not close enough for her to truly discern.

BAM! The door slams open and she snaps her eyes open, jumping to her feet as a very disheveled and rattled looking Sergeant bursts into the room. He looks around, then his gaze finally settles on Lieutenant Ward as he pants.

“Lieutenant Speirs was shot crossing the river. I need— I need help moving him.”

Daisy’s blood runs cold. She forgets to breathe for a moment. Catherine is talking to the Sergeant, but she can’t even process the words. It’s all murmurings, as though she’s still suspended in sleep. Speirs was shot. Speirs was shot.

Ronnie was shot.

“Clarke!”

Daisy blinks, looks to Catherine, who’s brows are furrowed as she stares at her expectantly.

“Call me a jeep. You’re coming with me and Sergeant Mihock. Foster, clear a table.” Daisy nods rapidly, speeding over to the radio. Her hands are trembling as she picks up the blocky transceiver.

“This is Lieutenant Clarke from Dog Company OP two, we need— we need a jeep over here now,” Daisy tries to keep her voice even. She isn’t sure if it's working. Ronnie was shot. He could be dead already. He could be bleeding out. There’s an ache in her throat as she hangs up — it feels like years until that jeep arrives, Mihock, Ward, and herself all climbing in and speeding off into the dead of night, until they’ve reached the river bank. Mihock jumps out and Daisy quickly follows with Ward behind.

She hears his shivering first.

In the darkness she can’t make out much of anything. The bush Mihock dragged him under obscures whatever light the jeep provides. But as her eyes adjust she can make out his outline, how it trembles, how his teeth chatter in the cold October air. As they lift him onto the stretcher — it’s apparent that he’s soaked. But they get him on quickly and get him to the jeep and all the while Daisy feels like she’s going to vomit. Ward stays with him in the back. Daisy isn’t sure she can stomach it. They get him back to the aid station where Foster waits and holds open the door and in the light it’s even worse of a sight.

He’s soaking wet, clothes heavy with water but she’s able to make out several bullet holes near his hip and rear end. Whatever cam cream once coated his features is long since smudged away. They get him on a table, on his stomach. He opens his eyes for a second. He looks at her. There’s no expression on his face beyond that of sheer exhaustion.

She isn’t sure if her next move is instinctive or a calculated decision.

“I can do it.” She blurts, making her way towards him. Ward doesn’t argue as Daisy pulls the necessary items from her pack — scissors, tweezers, sulfa powder, bandages.

She takes off his jacket, sheds her own off her shoulders to drape over his shivering torso as Foster goes about drying his head. Then she grabs the scissors and starts to cut away at parts of his pants to better see the bullet wounds. Sometimes, she just tears it. It’s reflexive, how she transitions from cutting to grabbing tweezers and goes to pull the bullets from his hip and rear. For a second, she forgets that it’s Ronald Speirs that she’s treating. He’s just another GI, one of the probable hundreds she’s helped in the span of the four months she’s been in the service.

And then he groans.

It’s such a quiet thing, but she hears it. His weak indication of pain. And suddenly it is Ronnie’s wounds, and it’s Ronnie’s blood on her hands, under her nails. It’s Ronnie shivering, soaking wet and too tired to say much else.

“Shit. I’m— I’m sorry. Okay just — fuck — okay, almost done, Ronnie.” Her voice trembles as bad as her hands as she clumsily mutters out apologies. Her heart is pounding in her ears, any other reassurances she can provide die before they make it out of her mouth. But she pushes forward, getting all the pieces out. She tears the packet with her teeth, sprinkling it in the wounds. Ward helps her bandage him, moving his leg with precision so Daisy can work quickly. She ties it tight enough, then lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

Daisy feels their stares on her, but all she can do is stare at him. Like if she looks away, he’ll surely die.

“Clarke, do you want to come with me t—”

“I can,” Carolyn immediately cuts Ward off. “I’ll… I’d like to go with you, ma’am.”

Daisy isn’t listening to the conversation, but she feels Carolyn’s gentle squeeze on her shoulder, hears the door shut. In the commotion, a few of the other women rose to their feet — she can feel their lingering looks, as they all try to resettle, but she doesn’t have the strength to care for the staring. She stalks over, grabs the chair she was sitting in, and brings it up beside him. She isn’t sure if he’s awake or asleep now. She sits down, and reaches to grab one of Ronnie’s hands. It’s limp, and cold, and his fingers are pruned. Hers are stained with his blood, because the thought of cleaning herself up makes her nauseous.

Open or closed, his expression is still pained. Carolyn did her best to dry him. His dark hair still clings to his forehead, damp. She hates this. She hates whoever ordered this patrol, hates whoever shot him, hates that he was alone and probably set it up that way himself. And if she weren’t so tired, maybe her anger would be enough to get all the British Armor and then some across the Rhine. Maybe it’d burn down Berlin. Let it burn for all she cares. Right now, all she wants to do is take him somewhere no one will ever hurt him again. And maybe that’s selfish — but she can regret that in the morning. Her thumb rubs over the back of his hand.

Ronnie’s eyes open slightly, just enough for her to make out those slits of pretty hazel through smudged and fading cam cream.

“…you a dream?” he mutters, his voice thick and scratchy with exhaustion. Her throat tightens and her eyes gloss over. She feels his hand try to squeeze hers, but it’s weak, so she squeezes a bit tighter in response.

“I’m here.” Daisy whispers her reply. As though he’s content with the answer, she watches him slip back into sleep without another word.

I wish I could scold you. She wishes he were Liebgott or Eugene or any other man. Because Joe is like a brother who she can scold for his impulse. Eugene is a good friend and just as careless as her at times. But Ronnie isn’t a good friend, or a brother. He makes her cry. Makes her smile. He enters the room and against her better judgment she’s happy in a way she swore she wouldn’t feel again. Ronnie isn’t a friend. He’s more. He’s so much more. She's terrified of what that means.

She doesn’t let go of his hand the whole night, not even when she, too, falls into an uncomfortable slumber.

[wearevillaneve]

Eve of Destruction - Chapter 8: No Mercy for the Bad.

“Let me guess:  You must be the notorious Ghost With No Face.  The Twelve’s prime assassin.  Oksana Astankova also known as Codename: Villanelle? “

The blonde stood up and bowed deeply at the waist before settling back in Helen’s favorite chair. 

“At your service.”

“Yes, I rather doubt that,”  retorted Helen.   “You two psychotic cunts have been on quite the little rampage.  Why haven’t you killed me already?”

Villanelle rocked back in the chair and even swiveled around in a complete circle confidently.    She smiled sweetly at Helen before murmuring, “You’re not dead yet only because you are still more valuable alive.”

Helen was honestly surprised by Villanelle’s admission, but before she could respond the Russian beat her to it. 

“Eve seems to believe you can still be of use to us.   I disagree.  I think we’ve done just fine ourselves taking out our enemies and striking terror in the hearts of the ones we haven’t eliminated yet.”

An icy chill ran through Helen's spine.   The deadpan way the young woman discussed and dismissed the multiple murders she had committed over the last few weeks was so casual she might as well be discussing the weather or taking out the rubbish. 

Which is precisely what she (and her partner) had done in the last two months.   They had singlehandedly slaughtered more of The Twelve’s agents and assets in a matter of days and weeks than MI6 had done in as many years.   MI6 was encumbered by rules and regulations as well as upper leadership that either micromanaged right down to the last paper clip or was completely hands-off as long as things got done and there was no blowback. 

Helen’s managerial style was decidedly hands-off.   It had worked well with Carolyn until she became too damned cocky as well as Eve Polastri when Carolyn needed to be taken off the board.   

She had dealt with murderous psychopaths before.   She was certain she could deal with this one.  

That thought was shattered without warning along with her kneecap when Villanelle put a bullet through it.

(illustrations by Mi3D Art and Malicious Misery) Ao3 link.

[vtgbooks]

Vintage CAROLYN SLAUGHTER The Banquet 1984 Eerie Book Obsessive Love Affair Book

[crimson-violets]

The Black Butler Characters as songs

Sebastian: Rats~ Motionless in White

Ciel: Johnny’s Revenge ~ Crown the Empire

Grell: Pretty Little Psycho (nightcore version) ~ Young Nightcore

Undertaker: Carolyn ~ Black Veil Brides (The song was originally about BVB guitarist Jake Pitt’s mother passing away but I feel like it could fit his relationship with Cloudia Phantomhive when she eventually passed away. It could have been romantic as he has her picture in one of his mourning lockets that he wore up until the Campania arc)

Ronald: Die4u~ Bring Me The Horizon (While Ronald might be a flirt and party animal I believe that maybe his suicide and him becoming a reaper had to do with someone he loved deeply only to have his heart broken by this person. It was a toxic kind of love though as the song kind of depicts a toxic love bombing relationship between two people. I think that could be why Ronald is a flighty person. Since that relationship leading to his demise, he has trouble with trust and opening his heart to others. I ship him and Grell though. <3 I feel like Grell would be understanding towards him regarding her own demise and trauma and accept him as he is broken pieces and all. And unfortunately while the anime had him misgendering her (we can’t have nice things ;( ) I headcanon him seeing Grell as a whole ass woman and being an active listener and shoulder to cry on. He would definitely accept her too. Lengthy explanation I know… I hope I phrased things correctly :/ )

Hannah: I Wanna Be Your Girlfriend ~ Girl in Red (self explanatory)

Madam Red: Mirrors ~ PVRIS (I think this song has Redcliff vibes. <3 Grell is a mousy butler by day and a radiant af supernatural being at night. The lyric saying “Darling don’t be so shy I’ll see you at midnight,” I think suggests by day Grell is just a butler that Madam Red yells at and bosses around as a cover but by midnight they’re lovers on a killing spree. Then when morning comes Grell is back to mousy butler mode and they have to play the part of servant and royalty. And in the morning, Madam Red waits for a secret rendezvous with her goregous reaper at nighttime and so on and so on. Also Madam Red knows Grell’s true nature as a grim reaper and that she’s not human and dead inside as the song keeps saying. Yet she can’t resist Grell despite her lover killing her in the end over her not wanting to kill her own nephew.)

Mey Rin: Brown Eyes ~ Lady Gaga

Lizzy: Pretty in Pink ~ Scene Queen (imagine this playing during her badass moment where she slaughters the undead)

Nina: She’s So Lovely ~ The Butchies

Rachel: Prom Queen ~ Molly Kate Kestner

Vincent: Skeletons ~ New Years Day

Finny: Teenagers ~ My Chemical Romance

Bard: Last Resort ~ Papa Roach

Claude: Hatefuck ~ Motionless in White

Alois ~ Idk…The bumble bee song on Tik Tok

Aaaaaand I’m done because I’m tired and while bed time is aways away, I’m all set with this post and whoever I didn’t include will be on future posts. ;) Stay hydrated and chill.

[cinematic---monologue]

Great Neville Brand, lousy croc!

Eaten Alive USA, 1976, Tobe Hooper

D. T.: Blutrausch, IMDb: 5,5 - my score: 6

AKA: Starlight Slaughter, Death Trap, Crocodile, The Devil's Swamp, Slaughter Hotel, Brutes and Savages

English version below

Wenn es zwei Kerle gab, die den Hoodlum, den Mann fürs Grobe bestens darstellen konnten, waren es Jack Elam und Neville Brand. Was für fiese Hackfressen. Beide hab ich sehr ins Herz geschlossen und beide hatten wenige Hauptrollen. Bei Elam bin ich mir nicht sicher, ob er überhaupt einmal Leading Man war. Brand ist großartig in Don Siegels Riot in Cell Block 11 (1952) und auch in Eaten Alive liefert er. Deswegen ist es noch kein guter Film. Der Nachfolger des Texas Chainsaw Massaker handelt von Hillbilly Judd (Brand), der ein verwahrlostes Motel mit Krokodilteich als Attraktion betreibt. Nach und nach werden Gäste von ihm, gern mit einer Sense, ins Jenseits befördert und an ein lächerlich schlecht getrickstes Krokodil verfüttert. Bemerkenswert ist noch der junge Robert Englund, der den Film mit dem Satz "My name is Buck, I'm here for a fuck!" eröffnet und damit den Ton vorgibt. Carolyn Jones (Morticia Addans) gibt eine sehr amüsante Puffmutter ab und der wohl bekannteste Mime, Mel Ferrer, lernt viel zu schnell die Sense kennen.

Die ganze Story ist nur lose um die Gewaltszenen gebaut und macht im ganzen wenig Sinn. Man fragt sich 'What's the point?" Was den Film sehenswert macht, ist nicht das Was sondern das Wie. Hooper inszeniert alles im Studio, setzt künstliches, oft koplimentäres, Licht und unterlegt alles mit einem selbst komponierten Soundtrack - mehr Sound-Effekte als Musik. Dadurch erzielt er eine einzigartige Stimmung - mehr Arthouse Horror als slasher. Auch wenn jede Menge Blut fließt, gruselig ist das alles nicht.

Englisch Version

If there were two guys who could best play the hoodlum, the man for the rough stuff, it was Jack Elam and Neville Brand. What nasty hacks. I took them both very much to my heart and they both had few leading roles. With Elam, I'm not sure he was ever a leading man. Brand is great in Don Siegel's Riot in Cell Block 11 (1952) and he also delivers in Eaten Alive. That's why it's not a good film yet. The sequel to Texas Chainsaw Massacre is about hillbilly Judd (Brand) who runs a run-down motel with a crocodile pond as an attraction. One by one, guests are killed by him, gladly with a scythe, and fed to a ridiculously badly tricked crocodile. Remarkable is the young Robert Englund, who opens the film with the sentence "My name is Buck, I'm here for a fuck!" and thus sets the tone. Carolyn Jones (Morticia Addans) makes a very amusing madam and the well known mime, Mel Ferrer, learns the scythe far too quickly.

The whole story is only loosely built around the violent scenes and makes little sense as a whole. One wonders 'What's the point?" What makes the film worth watching is not the what but the how. Hooper stages everything in the studio, sets artificial, often coplimentary, lighting and underpins everything with a soundtrack he composed himself - more sound effects than music. In this way he achieves a unique mood - more arthouse horror than slasher. Even though there is a lot of blood, it is not scary.

[haroldgross]

New Post has been published on Harold Gross: The 5a.m. Critic

New Post has been published on http://literaryends.com/hgblog/mysteries-with-a-spin-off/

Mysteries with a Spin(-off)

In an unusual event, two spinoffs have come out of BBC staples…and both are really quite good.

Sister Boniface Mysteries

Ten years ago (Father Brown 1.6) we met an unlikely detective nun. Now, as the Father Brown series has wound down, they have revisited the idea and spun out a delightfully light and entertaining series starring Lorna Watson in the title role. She has a convent-based lab and several sisters to populate the tales. Virginia Fiol, Tina Chiang, and Carolyn Pickles among them.

But one of the biggest successes of this show is how it has solved the friction between the local constabulary and the sectarian detectives (my biggest frustration with Father Brown). Basically, there is none. Sister Boniface is welcomed with, even deputized by the local DCI, played by Max Brown.

Taking the place of that interaction is, to a point, the local paper manager and reporter, Miranda Raison (Nightflyers, Vexed) and the detective seconded on his way to the Met, Jerry Iwu. And, of course, there is a town, Great Slaughter no less, full of characters and in-comers that cause mayhem and murder. But almost always with a light heart and a bit of humor, despite the circumstances.

Beyond Paradise

Death in Paradise has just finished its 12th season. But through the years it has cycled through multiple main detectives. Those that survived to the end of their terms went back to England to pursue a new chapter in their lives. We have, on occasion, even heard from them again. But it was inevitable in this era of franchises that one would get picked for their own show.

Re-enter Kris Marshall and Sally Bretton as one of the real success stories of the original series. And, of course, a collective of quirky constabulary: Zahra Ahmadi, Dylan Llewellyn, and redoubtable and often overlooked Felicity Montagu. The additions of Barbara Flynn and Jamie Bamber (Fearless) are fun  well.

The mysteries are on about the same level as its originating series. Which is to say, clever and somewhat easily solved in ways that aren’t always fair to the viewer, but entertaining nonetheless. Unlike Death in Paradise, the personal stories are more integrated and part of the continuing focus of the series. Not quite a soap, but not quite just full-on mystery either. The two aspects are balanced nicely as we watch our main couple adjust to their new lives, trials, and travails and the other characters grow and learn. It still remains, at heart, a cozy series, but with enough meat to chew on, and fun characters to keep it all interesting.

[polaraaace]

The Magnus Institute houses multiple statements regarding meals prepared by one Arthur Shappey. It’s not entirely clear if the Corruption, the Desolation, and/or the Spiral are actually involved or if he’s just that terrible of a cook

Kieran is an avatar of the Slaughter with the ability to both provoke violence in others and dole it out in amounts disproportionate to his scrawny 14-year-old frame

Carolyn isn’t aligned with any of the Fears because she’s basically scary enough to be one in her own right

Douglas is halfway down the path of becoming a Web avatar. Opening up to Martin about his divorce pushed him a couple steps back towards humanity, but not entirely

Carolyn met Gertrude Robinson briefly while the latter was an MJN passenger and the two developed a mutual respect from their initial hostility

Peter Lukas also uses MJN. The flight where he and Elias got double-booked was one of the most amusing days of Carolyn’s career

Simon Fairchild once tried to send GERTI into an endless void, only to be driven out by a furious Carolyn because only she gets to terrorize her passengers and crew

Martin is marked by not only the Vast and the Stranger, but also the Lonely, Hunt, and Buried (I can provide justification for all of these)

An (incomplete) list of my Cabin Pressure/Magnus Archives crossover headcanons

Helen Richardson-Distortion is Douglas Richardson’s ex-wife. She got her first Spiral mark when they were lying to each other about the captain thing and the affair. Her being a Tory also contributed to the divorce

Linda Fairbairn is a Vast avatar and a member of the Fairchild family. She uses a slightly different version of the name to avoid (valid) accusations of nepotism

Herc’s vegetarianism and fear of sheep stem from an encounter with the Flesh

Tom Goodman-Hill’s Martin is a Not!Martin. The Stranger rejected him and returned the original because Martin had already been touched by the Vast. Idk, it’s dream logic

Arthur is immune to the Fears. He didn’t have a traumatic Georgie-esque experience; he’s just Like That

Elias, Carolyn, Douglas, and Herc all share the same divorce lawyer

MJN is the Magnus Institute’s airline of choice because it’s so cheap

[thecloserkin]

book review: Carolyn Slaughter, Relations (1976)

Genre: Gothic psychological suspense

Is it the main pairing: yes

Is it canon: yes

Is it explicit: yes

Is it endgame: no

Is it shippable: yes

Bottom line: I read this concurrently with Wuthering Heights and allow me to play sommelier—10/10 recommend this wine pairing for maximum gothic extraness. tw: suicide

There’s boatloads of sex but this is not a horny story. It’s a lyrical story—in the sense of expressing direct, spontaneous feeling. Not that a story couldn’t be both (Wuthering Heights is both horny and lyrical) but I actually want to spend a minute defending this book to my past self. The first time I read it, I was unimpressed because Relations wasn’t much of a Love Story. You know the kind I’m talking about, you know the beats you’d expect it to hit: here is a pair of siblings tOrMeNtEd by their iLLiCiT pAsSiOn!!! I mean, the mode isn’t always tragic or dark but even the cream-puff versions of this arc entail some sort of line being crossed or feelings being caught. We are used to characters who begin in initial-state, a journey brings them to end-state and a clear delta separates the two conditions. This book says: fuck that. Fuck change. Fuck growth. My best days are behind me and I’m ok with that because now my brother is lost to me and I give zero fucks about anything else. We have a novel steeped in the symbolism of winter (the season of loss & deadness that is impermeable to change). Our pregnant heroine dreads her impending due date, in part because the child is not her beloved brother’s; but mostly because having a baby is just about the biggest change a body can be subjected to, and she’s actively averse to change. All she wants is her brother back. If you’re looking for characters to fall in love, as in transition from feeling one way to feeling another way, this is most likely not the book for you. But I enjoyed it a whole helluva lot and let me tell you why.

The predominant note of this story is MELANCHOLY. It’s backwards-looking rather than forward-looking, things just keep getting worse and worse for our protagonist and yet she’s unapologetic about what she did: she loved her brother, loves him still and always will. What I admire is that she is steadfast in the face of remorseless despair. Compare these quotes, this one from near the beginning: “I feel listless, often close to tears. I am beset by fiendish pangs.” This is from near the end: “I am hollow, clanging with emptiness; there is no solution.” Do you see what I mean by no delta between initial-state and end-state? I think there is an important distinction between this book and Forbidden, which holds out the promise of a happy ending only to snatch it away at the last minute, in that Relations puts its cards on the table & promises no such thing. It’s melancholy all the way down (well, three-quarters of the way down it transpires this book is in fact a high-concept Folgercest prequel I SHIT YOU NOT friends read it yourself).

In the novel’s present, our girl Catherine is entombed in a emotionally sterile marriage; in the past she grows up warmed by the sun of her brother Christopher’s regard & affection. Slaughter chooses to locate these strands at two crucial points in Cathy’s development—age ten (prepubescent) and age thirty (the age at which women’s “biological clocks” start ticking—this is relevant because Slaughter is writing in the 1970s even if Cathy is living in the late Victorian Era). We should note here that Christopher is older than Catherine by two years, aka the universally acknowledged INCEST SWEET SPOT (I know some of you favor twincest but you are WRONG and I will prove it in my forthcoming monograph on the topic). At age ten, Cathy and Christopher have intercourse for the first time after stumbling on their father’s secret porn stash. The sex is more mechanical than enjoyable, and that’s the point: they start banging out of curiosity, keep banging out of habit, and only later do hormones and feelings kick in. Ten- and twelve-year-olds just don’t get horny the way older kids do, and that is, again, the entire point. Slaughter structures it so the sex happens first (in the very first flashback chapter). The feelings don’t follow, the feelings don’t emerge, the feelings were there all along. What the sex does is seal a secret between the two of them, the secret of their father’s porn stash (hidden in an abandoned wing of the house).

If we turn back to the present, we find Catherine yoked to a man who excites zero feelings in her. By her own admission she married him because “I found him pleasant to listen to and he never made any demands upon me.”These are the qualities that recommend a husband to her—that he impose no psychic demands whatsoever! All her energies are already absorbed in reminiscence lol. We find out he proposed to her with a speech worthy of Pride & Prejudice’s Mr. Collins, and that he possesses not a particle of passion. Which is exactly how Cathy wanted it:

I entered the marriage in a state of apathy; simply undergoing it because of Mamma’s pressure, and because there seemed no other real alternative apart from marriage open to me.

We were married in the winter of my thirtieth year.

I walked down the aisle in a state of complete inertia, my sense muffled by the laudanum … I wished with all my heart he could have been my brother.

File away that glancing reference to winter; more on that later. For now please focus on how numb she is—not discontent, just apathetic. Cathy insists the present brings her nothing but pain and insists she doesn’t regret the choices that brought her here. She’s unrepentant about loving Chris, and explicitly rejects the conventional moral framing that would view her past self as “sinning” and her present self as “redeemed”:

I could not rid myself of the old and over-riding passion of my childhood. I decided eventually that no one would ever, could ever, be what my brother had been to me.

If I could have felt then, and now, that there was some evil in what we did, then I could have borne it. But I could find no evil in it.

I would not be so oppressed if I could but feel my past was wicked and scandalous. If I believed that, i could gladly submit to the institution or the grave. But some buoyant spirit within me keeps insisting that what I had was fine, and contained elements of true beauty.

“The institution or the grave,” she says. Those are the choices. If you want to have Thoughts and Feelings and not just a Body, then your lot as a woman is to end up either in a sanitarium or dead in childbed. Only when she looks back at her childhood does Cathy perceive a time when it was different, when Christopher, at least, saw her as a whole-ass person. Yes, this is another entry in dr. thecloserkin’s ongoing “Incest vs. the Patriarchy” series; if you guys thought I was going to stay off my bullshit for more than ten minutes then joke’s on you hahaha. Here are some quotes that show she was getting her emotional needs met as a child (she’s borderline suicidal as an adult):

leaves me with only the memory of such complete intimacy. It is beyond my reach now, and perhaps I shall never agin recapture it though I live to be ninety.

there was no discord in our interests and desires.

We talked all the time. We never ran out of conversation; I never grew tired of his speech.

It never occurred to me…that we would not always be together. There seemed no need for anyone else—he filled out my present and my past.

Ok so if everything was so idyllic back then what the heck happened? How did it all fall apart? Slaughter withholds the crucial revelatory scene until close to the end, but the story up till then is permeated by a very Gothic sense of creeping dread. The elephant on the horizon is change. Cathy and Chris are on the precipice of puberty, which portends seismic changes in their bodies, and the accompanying changes in their roles as they inch toward adulthood. Cathy doesn’t handle it well:

the old fear. A fear of things changing; of his face looking at me in an unfamiliar way; of our world altering and growing cold about me.

There seemed no question why it should not always continue in this way, and no reason why our bodies or our minds should change or suddenly not fit.

Our life became a little cloister: and I never wanted to leave it. The idea of change haunted me.

I was insisting, always, like a child, the nothing must change; nothing must happen to destroy our life together.

And here is where I connect her fear of change with her favorite season, winter:

I was afraid of change. It seemed menacing. I realized the sadness and bleakness of the winter really suited my nature best. It made me feel more real; sadness now seemed more real than happiness; more permanent, and therefore easier to bear.

the seasons change and find me the same. Nothing touches me, nothing makes me laugh or weep. I have no real substance.

OMG SHE’S A FUCKING REVENANT

”You are so thin. Your limbs are slim as these winter branches.”

I have touched my roots, my beginnings, the things that have formed me.

This book is an anti-change pro-winter manifesto. Winter is the season of desolation, where nothing grows, and if there is one change she adjures above all others it’s the life presently taking root within her womb:

If I am a seed about to burst, if I am to flower, the old seed, my Self, must die. Some new thing will grow out of me; but I must perish. I cannot have it; I cannot allow it to happen. I must protect myself from this that would devour me.

My body continued to change according to its own will, nothing could shift the determined embryo within me … I cannot bear the thought of this thing growing within me, living off my blood … I feel nothing but doom, and a great fear if this shall finally come to pass.

The progress of her pregnancy is literally making her mentally ill. I want to link this horror imagery to child!Cathy’s musings on the decomposition of her father’s corpse:

I wondered if all the flesh had fallen off by this time. I imagined his bones growing into the wood of the coffin, and the trees growing into his skull, the roots twisting around his rotting limbs.

People who read this passage and think “this is a really tight horror aesthetic but what is it doing in the middle of my luscious love story” are missing the point. This is a horror story. But instead of framing the incest as the impure act that violates and threatens our accepted categories, we are invited to view the pregnancy as a gross & unnatural hijacking of Cathy’s body. Her body’s fecundity defeats and puzzles her. She actually tells us about her nightmare wedding before she tells us about her real wedding; in her nightmare she looks at her bridegroom and:

transfixed with horror because he is without the male member — all that resides in the space between his thighs is a burnt-out stub—like the hacked branch of a tree deadened and blacked by many winters.

So far we’ve had body horror associated with (1) her father (2) her husband (3) her unborn baby. Notice who’s not on this list? Notice who she always thinks of with tenderness? Notice who doesn’t ever evoke an iota of fear or horror in Cathy? That’s right! Her brother. The whole incestuous affair is really an own-goal on patriarchy’s part, because the same doctor who warns Cathy’s mother against Cathy’s “wild and unnatural attachment to her brother” goes on to say:

Little girls, Madam, are the scourge of the earth. They have no future, but to grow into that unhealthy state of womanhood, with its unclean festerings and grotesque swellings of the abdomen. I would that little girls could always stay the pure young things they are before the age of eight.

This is some next-level IT WAS EVE’S FAULT SHE ATE THE APPLE spin. Can you blame Cathy for taking this venerable authority figure at his word, and staying “pure” by staying a child, by warding off womanhood and childbearing altogether? goodforher.jpg

Real quick here are some lighthearted episodes from their childhood since it’s not all doom and gloom: Christopher marches next door to confront the Frenchman who is maybe sleeping with their mom and is definitely perving on Cathy. Christopher returns the Frenchman’s gift of silk stockings with a grand declaration of “My sister Catherine has no need for these.” That’s right shut him down Chris!!! Also: Cathy falls into a frozen pond and Christopher rescues her. Their negligent mother blames Christopher. Cathy is shaking with pneumonia and all she wants to do is “make the sad look leave my brother’s sweet face.” Christopher refuses to leave her side until she rallies from the fever. He is thirteen:

I think that Christopher and I half-died together in that terrible week, and afterward, when the terror had passed, we were never quite the children we had been before.

Congrats kids you have undertaken a symbolic journey to the underworld!!!! Good job.

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

It wouldn’t be a real incest story without a third sibling, an odd-man-out who helps us triangulate our main pairing’s relationship. Edward is a sociopath and a bully. Parents playing favorites always wreaks havoc with children’s sense of self-worth, but I think in this case it’s 90% down to Edward just being a bad egg (fwiw their father, when he was alive, did favor Christopher). Edward is a peripheral figure for most of their childhood; he appears only to “bang on our door to tell us to be silent for our giggling kept him awake.” That’s right, our door—teenage Catherine and Christopher share not just a room but a bed (!). Edward resurfaces as an adult to beg for Catherine’s intercession with his wife. He married an heiress, and now he seems to have soured on her. He talks about her “malady” and her “hysterical nonsense.” She has “phantom confinements.” They are “phantom” because she is barren. Sir you are literally a Victorian dude named Edward who keeps his mad wife locked up in the attic, you can sit allllll the way down. A heavily pregnant Catherine rolls up to Edward’s house just in time to witness his wife’s suicide: ”I had to make sure there was nothing inside me,” explains the poor woman, lying in a pool of blood after cutting her abdomen open with a knife. This seems fine. This whole society seems fine, right? Catherine reflects: “Ill-health or madness was her only solution, married as she was to a man who so complacently felt himself her superior” and “We are sepulchered alive in this close world, and want more room.” If this applies to her sister-in-law’s tragic fate it applies with equal force to her own situation. Cathy may not be physically barren but her inner life is empty af.

I’m going to talk about the breakup now. The climax of this book is the last time Cathy and Chris have sex. Contrast the arc of many slow-burn stories where the climax is the first time the main pairing has sex. Cathy’s menses doesn’t even arrive until after the incestuous affair is over! And what precipitates the breakup? Well, their mother decides to take the family on a seaside vacation. This is the summer when everything changes (Cathy’s favorite season is winter, and she abhors change). As for what changes, exactly, it’s kind of unclear? Wasn’t like they got caught having beach sex (which they had a ton of). The forces of change are wholly internal. They’re growing up. They’re waking up to the existence of social taboos that will brand their love “unnatural” & worse. As readers we can see that Catherine and Christopher’s attachment is as natural as breathing, and it’s actually the Incest Is Icky crowd that’s drawing harmful artificial boundaries. What happens is there’s a local girl who has obvious designs on Chris. She’s a nonentity but the mere existence of someone outside of Catherine and Christopher, someone who views one of them as an object of sexual desire, sort of punctures the bubble they’ve hitherto been living in. They can’t pretend society doesn’t exist or that what they’re doing isn’t immoral by its lights:

”We have never felt bad before. It just happened and there was no harm in it. I see no harm in it now—I cannot feel suddenly that it is wrong … but even if it is, why does it signify? Nobody knows.” ”Yes, but why does nobody know? It must be because we have deliberately tried to hide it?”

Christopher is the one who unilaterally decides that incest is wrongdirtybad and it has to end. Christopher is the one who seeks out Rando Local Girl and fucks her just to prove how serious he is about ending it with Cathy, which imo was inflicting a pointlessly cruel injury for no reason?? Wtf Chris I thought you were one of the good ones. What I love about Cathy is the steadfastness of her conviction—she accepts Christopher’s decision but she is far from convinced by his reasoning, his deference to social norms. Here’s Cathy’s take: “it seems to me that to live in a way that is contrary to one’s own nature, to live in a way that is false, that is the evil. The discontent grows like a cancer.” Authenticity ought to count for something, no? But these kids and their beautiful love are ultimately outmatched by, and broken by, the weight of social mores:

I could not bear to think of anything changing. I wanted it to stay the same dear way it had always been; ever since I could remember … but the spell was broken; we could not pretend any more. We had to stop being children. “Please. Once more.”

And that’s the breakup scene. It’s devastating. Cathy keeps staring at this one beauty mark on Christopher’s familiar well-loved face and she’s crying and I’m crying too. Recall that they’re still sharing a room/a bed up to this point? “The first night alone was the worst,” says Cathy. Imagine losing the person who is your whole world….overnight. Oof. There’s a time-jump of a few years, and Chris announces he’s off to—I think South Africa? I think this is around the time of the Boer War? I didn’t make any detailed notes and I’ll be damned if I’m going to fish for my copy of the book just to confirm what we already know, that it’s the 1800’s and the sun never set on the British Empire:

”I must get away from here and see something different; begin again…I cannot imagine a day without your face, or your sweet companionship. I do love you. But this must be for the best.”

Christopher goes off to doing colonial-settler stuff, initially. Here’s his first letter home:

I want you to be happy and grow up straight without me.

As opposed to growing up crooked, or growing up gay?? Here are subsequent letters where he seems to have done a complete 180:

thought it would be simpler to be away from you, from the constant temptation. It is not. My nightmares terrify me, they are eating my brain. I don’t know how long this can last.

AND THEN he writes he’ll be coming home for Christmas! I must’ve missed the memo where this story turns into a straight-up Folgers fic but that’s about where we are. It’s literally Folgercest. He goes to Africa explicitly to get away from her. Time and distance cannot suppress their feelings. He comes home to find her still waiting for him:

”Why have you clung to me, or rather the memory of me. For surely the memory is better than this twisted, pathetic creature before you?” “I have found no one better,” I said simply.

Asdfdfkdfjd this reunion scene is heartbreaking bc Christopher and Catherine are barely five minutes in each other’s company before Edward intrudes, claims to have found them in a compromising position, claims to have suspected all along about the incest, almost comes to blows with Christopher, tells him to get out. And Chris does. Cathy doesn’t even get to say goodbye. Edward’s presence is so clearly a case of entrapment—he was expecting Chris to come to her, he was expecting to catch them doing something “inappropriate” even though it sounds like they were only embracing—that there is no doubt in my mind Edward’s intent was to hurt Cathy and Chris, rather than to protect Cathy’s reputation or whatever bullshit he was spouting. We have seen from Edward’s abuse of his wife that he is no kind of moral authority. He does, however, succeed in “making me feel unclean, and dirt was attaching itself to me with every foul word he said.” In this scene Edward is handy synecdoche for patriarchy, which berates Cathy with accusations of sinfulness while actively stifling her every creative impulse and intellectual endeavor. If this book has a villain (and I don’t think it does; it’s not that kind of book) Edward is it. I find that edifying. It’s not Cathy’s husband who’s the primary antagonist standing in the way of her self-actualization—the husband is no more than an empty suit—it’s her other brother. One brother saves her and the other damns her.

After Edward runs Chris off and Chris goes back to Africa there are a few more letters, including this one: “that nothing has changed in my heart. That I love you with the passion of our youth, with the strength of all these long, long years.” Thank you for the affirmation Chris! I needed it even if Cathy didn’t. But the war is ramping up and Chris is headed into a combat zone and the odds of his survival do not look good. Cathy is already preparing to grieve him. She’s also preparing to go into labor any day now. These two threads, her brother’s impending death and her child’s impending birth, merge in the final pages of the book where Cathy is just clearly SO OVER IT:

I have nothing to fight, yet the waiting is most terrible … I have nothing to do but wait. I have nothing to leave.

It is hard to go on. How can I escape this life, this round of boredom and other births? O, that I could be ten and happy!

That’s the end but come on. Raise your hand if you don’t think this girl will 100% yeet herself into the sea and they’ll rule it “postpartum depression”? Anybody? No?

[wornoutspines]

Anne Rice's Mayfair Witches | Trailer

I'm only five chapters in but the book is already fascinating and DETAILED! I can't wait for the series to come, Alexandra Daddario seems great for the part. #MayfairWitches #NYCC #AMC

Writers: Anne Rice (Novel), Esta Spalding, and Michelle Ashford (Creators) Stars: Alexandra Daddario, Harry Hamlin, Tongayi Chirisa, Jack Huston Synopsis: Follows a neurosurgeon who discovers that she is the unlikely heir to a family of witches. She must contend with a sinister presence that has haunted her family for generations. If you’re interested in the source material, help us by…

[fleabaged]

I was one of the "don't come to this show for a happy ending people" but I never thought KE would be so stupid as to only kill one of them. If they'd killed both eh that does make some sense. Hate it, but like. Makes some sense. But their fates are so tied together that that was just so fucking stupid.

I agree that I think the two ideas are getting conflated it’s not “happy ending” (most) are upset about, it’s the cruelty and unsatisfying nature of the choice.

Villanelle didn’t even get final words. This iconic character did not get to go down in glory. It was shit writing. Total shock value ending. “Gotcha!” And a slap in the face to her entire arc.

They sent multiple bullet wounds to make sure it wasn’t ambiguous. It was disgusting!!!!!

Oh, and then cherry on top, remember when she was celebrated for her sexuality, her escapism, her confidence, her everything- yeah just slaughter that queers can’t have any fun or any wins in the end. She was bad!!!! Wait Pam, Carolyn, Eve all killed too and didn’t die?!?! No you dont get it villanelle was more eviler :) (wait what’s that about a 2 season arc of her wanting to do good and a better life- SHUT UP HOMOSEXUALS STOP BEING SO ANGRY 😂)