#he has literal stars in his eyes!! he is sun coded with all his passion and intuition and burning control

[not-equippedforthis]

this might be uncomfortably quick but your wall of tags on my post just made my heart sing :') thank u for understanding this quintessential fact of the universe

jfadgghjhdjadkdgh this is also making my heart sing thank youu!!! ^^^^^^ ive been peer-reviewed :33 i have a habit of leaving absolute walls of tags on posts because i have sooo much to say, so im happy its appreciated fjagdjg. especially about kirk. pretty kirk is so real, post was so real.

[tagsecretsanta]

From Vikapediathat

to @wonderavian

I do not own this piece of art/fiction. @vikapediathat  is the original creator and has agreed to this being posted on this blog for Secret Santa 2017.

Prompt 2: Alan and Snow

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Title: The Chill That Can Touch A Warm Heart

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Sometimes, just sometimes, Tracy Island is just too hot and humid to do the most basic of actions as the heavy air made one feel gross.

Other times, deep space is just too cold and boring making one go slightly insane.

So Alan knew, when waking up to another day, he had probably drawn the short straw. Would it be a feeling gross day or a slightly insane day?

However, there are days that no matter how much action he doesn’t see, how much rescuing he doesn’t do, Alan savours every waking moment: The snow missions.

The sun combating the white cold sheet draped over every mountain and rolled across the horizon is a sight he believes is the most beautiful. Well, except for seeing a planet from orbit that is, but snow comes very close! Speaking of space, Alan is primarily the astronaut of International Rescue, he doesn’t get to go on missions to Mount Everest or the Southern Alps; that goes to Scott and Virgil, and Gordon if it’s serious. So it’s the days where the missions are super duper, really, incredibly serious that Alan is needed for a snow mission; his favourite kind of day.

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Days such as Tibet’s December 2058 avalanche that buried a helplessly small village more than 6 feet under snow are those incredibly serious snow missions. All communications and scanners were lost from the earthquake beforehand and it was the boys’ jobs to dig survivors out of the snow. This avalanche was Alan’s first snow mission, probably his brothers’ thousandth time (totally not exaggerating) and he kept his excitement under subtle smiles of joy.

During the trip half way across the world, Alan pictured stepping out of Thunderbird 2 into Tibet. He had a strong belief that the cold was going to hit him like the way Thunderbird 3 experiences the temperature drop during launch breaching atmosphere. After all, space and snow had record temperatures under absolute zero. It would be a refreshing change from island weather, or endless stars light years away, and he was ready.

As Alan stepped out of Thunderbird 2 just outside the subdued village, he was in shock: snow was warm, warmer than space. This was either because he was restless with excitement during Thunderbird 2’s flight, or that his uniform mesh was twice as thick as his brothers to balance his body temperature in deep space, or both! He was calm and unnerved by the paper-like qualities of the snow: thin sheet, loud when tampered with and pure white that it almost hurt the eyes. If Europa didn’t hold alien life, then Jupiter’s coldest moon had nothing to play against Tibet’s picturesque snow.

Even Gordon shivered violently after he fell into a 2 feet deep hole the avalanche had covered, a clever trap Mother Nature laid for hunting these rescuers. They all fell into these frozen pits sometime or another, but Alan’s body felt no need to shiver. This feeling of dropping into the cold matter would become useful to help dig out the men, women and children succumbed to the collective particles of ice. Scott sped the digging process up another way; using Thunderbird 1’s retro-burners to melt the snow. Alan was amazed by the way the snow turned from something so strong and chilling in numbers, to a bubbling warm liquid mess in mere seconds. Ice and snow were stone-cold strong but also fragile like a glass window: astounding, Alan could say the least. Thanks to Thunderbird 1, Alan was able to firmly set his feet on the roofs of the first couple houses; hearing the cries of an alive family underneath.

The rescue was a success, as per usual, no deaths but some medium cases of hypothermia which called for some extra blankets or an hour in the Thunderbird 2’s heat bed. Thunderbird 2 managed to transport the small village into the safety of Tibet’s Capital City, Lhasa, where all 75 villagers would be able to seek refuge. A good rescue Alan would never forget, not only because of the faces of joy the villagers wore when Alan found them, but because he finally experienced snow for himself. It was so close to drawing with the views from orbit, so close.

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Alan loved that first snow mission, that memory. The other few snow missions Alan’s had haven’t exactly embodied that same feeling, that same experience, he had in Tibet. But now, he was stuck with a scorching hot December day on the island. No iced water, swimming or shade could cool him down. All Alan wanted to do was jump out of Thunderbird 1 into Antartica as a counter attack to the equator’s summer. But it was not meant to be, as Thunderbird 1 was busy saving a group of rock climbers in Australia.

The boiling summer days turned into humid summer nights where Alan’s family was too tired to talk because it was the most hectic time of the year, Christmas rescues. Gordon was asleep before he hit the reindeer pillow. Virgil could do was space out to the Christmas tree lights, just in case there was another rescue. Scott groaned from his sore muscles as he tried to fill out remaining paper work at Dad’s desk decorated with red, gold and green tinsel. Even John cut communications for the night because he just wanted some peace and quiet. Alan had been quiet all day, now he was bored of the peace.

But there was always Brains to talk to, he was always upgrading MAX when he had the time. And Alan was right, down the main hangar Brains was upgrading MAX’s coffee machine.

“How about I taste test?” Alan asked, seeing Brains’ hands shake uncontrollably.

“T-t-t-t-that w-would be g-g-great Alan, t-t-t-thanks. F-f-f-four cups i-i-i-i-is enough c-c-caffeine for m-m-m-me.” Brains answered, stuttering way more than usual.

Brains really knew how to code a good coffee and MAX was looking like he needed a double shot himself. Seeing the milk swirl around on top of the liquified coffee beans reminded Alan of melting snow revealing the real ground underneath. Then with a little mix, the snowy white milk blended and disappeared. A sad thought but it gave Alan an idea.

“Hey Brains, any way you could build some machine to make it snow on the island?” He queried.

“A-a-a-alan, are you serious?” Brains replied, “The heat of the sun would make the ice melt in minutes.”

“So… would it be possible at night?” Alan asked again.

“W-Well, the h-h-humidity would m-make it melt much s-slower; So y-yes it would be p-possible.” Brains answered, the caffeine’s effects starting to wear away, back to his normal stuttering self.

“So, you can make a snow machine!” Alan exclaimed.

“Y-yes but w-why would we ever need o-one?” Brains questioned him.

“Well… it’s festive. Christmas always has snow, Grandma Tracy likes to go the extra mile with decorations. Christmas is her favourite holiday after all. And besides, snow is cool; literally.”

“I-I’ll see what I can d-do without creating c-complications to any ships l-launch.”

Alan smiled from ear to ear. “You’re the best Brains! Grandma’s gonna love it,” then he walked off back to his room for a good nights sleep. “And I will too.” He thought.

The next day went like clockwork; Alan failed to stay cool and was only needed once for a mission in orbit (some ship was flying out of orbit and needed to be dragged back, no biggie). The next night, the boys crashed on the couches and were ready to get some shut-eye -until Brains ruined their plans with a remote in hand.

“G-Gentlemen, Grandma Tracy and K-Kayo, Alan gave me a r-request last night for a final t-touch to our Christmas d-decorations that will certainly l-l-lighten your mood.” Brains declared from atop the lounging area. Alan’s eye lit up and focused intently on Brains.

“Brains, if it’s more fancy lights around the island, can it wait until after we get some rest?” Scott cried out.

“N-Not at all Scott, Alan has c-challenged me to do the i-impossible and I s-s-succeeded.” Brains replied. Virgil and Gordon stood up with their groaning joints and walked over to Brains.

“Overcoming the impossible is what you do best, Brains.” Virgil told him.

“So this is going to be very interesting.” Gordon finished.

“So stop stalling and show us the new decoration!” Grandma Tracy passionately ordered. Glancing in Alan’s direction with a smile on his face, Brains pushed the button. A whirring sound was heard high up into the island, but moments later the magic began.

White specks began to fall onto the roof of the villa, the leaves of the palm trees and the balcony of the lounge. All had their own unique design and chilling to the touch. Alan wanted to be the first outside with his close-first favourite particles of ice, but Grandma Tracy bet him to it. He wasn’t mad about it though, this was the happiest he had seen her.

“Oh I’ve missed this! I haven’t seen snow since... since... oh I don’t know when but that doesn’t matter.” She told her family with laughter to follow. The rest of her family joined her as the snowflakes made their hair white and the rest piling into little ant-hill sizes of soft slowly melting snow.

“Congratulations Brains, you’ve done it again.” Grandma Tracy acknowledged.

“D-don’t thank me, t-thank Alan for a-asking me t-to build this f-f-for you.” Brains replied. In a blink of an eye, Grandma Tracy’s arms were lovingly squeezing the life out of Alan. A few seconds later, and a bit of wheezing from the youngest, Grandma Tracy spared him.

“Thank you Alan, I’ve missed snow so much. You don’t know how much this means to me.” Grandma explained, obviously holding back a sob. Alan looked up to the starry sky now speckled with even more shining white stars that covered any trace of his own tears. He wanted to create snow for himself, using his Grandma as an excuse. But now she was overjoyed with the greatest present he incidentally gave to her.

Seeing her smile like a little kid as the snowflakes decorated her body made snow and space tie for second.

“Trust me, I’ve missed snow too. Merry Christmas Grandma.”

[arisefairsun]

Call me a weirdo, but I once imagined Juliet trying to carry Romeo around bridal style. (Romeo, of course, totally digs it)

Haha, I often imagine the same thing! You know what? Someone should draw this, because it’s the cutest thing ever if you ask me.

I do think it’s something that could easily happen, you know, because these dorks are very playful when they are together. It saddens me that they are often portrayed only as troubled, sorrowful star-crossed lovers, when in truth they are also euphoric children, their hearts full of enthusiasm, always governed by their teenage liveliness. Given the dark society they live in, their love inevitably turns into a story of woe… but before that happens, they do have fun together.

They love playing together. Did Juliet’s kiss purge Romeo’s sin? Then there’s a sin in her lips and she must give it back immediately; she needs to kiss him again. Love is a game, a trespass sweetly urged, a risky but exciting exchange of sins. They tease each other constantly: ‘I gave thee [my love] before thou didst request it, / And yet I would it were to give again’, she says. ‘Wouldst thou withdraw it?’, Romeo wonders, ‘For what purpose, love?’ ’But to be frank and give it thee again’. If he were her little bird, like ‘a wanton’s bird’, then she would let him ‘hop a little from her hand, / Like a poor prisoner in her twisted gyves, / And with a silk thread pluck him back again’. She wants to play with him, and so does he: ‘I would I were thy bird’, he answers.

She forgets why she calls him back. ‘Let me stand here till thou remember it’, he suggests. Then Juliet ‘shall forget, to have thee still stand there, / Remembering how I love thy company’. ‘And I’ll still stay, to have thee still forget’, he agrees playfully. Later on, when Juliet waits for the Nurse’s arrival, she imagines that she and Romeo are tennis players, the Nurse being ‘as swift in motion as a ball; / My words would bandy her to my sweet love, / And his to me.’ Fueled by their frisky youthfulness, they become friends: ‘Love, lord, ay husband, friend’, she says. (I’m aware that ‘friend’ means lover here, but she can be playing with both meanings.) He becomes her confidant. She trusts him, and so she learns to free herself around him. She reveals her insatiable passion. ‘I should kill thee with much cherishing’, she says. She believes her love is too rich to be measured, because ‘they are but beggars that can count their worth’. So were she truly free to be with him, I can definitely imagine her trying to take him in her arms, playfully, their loud teenage laughter filling the room, while Romeo is wholly absorbed by romantic idealizations and Juliet brags about how infinite her love is.

Interestingly, the Chorus says that she is ‘as much in love’ as Romeo, but ‘her means much less / To meet her new beloved anywhere.’ Indeed, Juliet is always confined to her father’s territory. First the orchard and then the crypt, it is Romeo who must fly ‘with love’s light wings’ in order to be with her, ‘for stony limits cannot hold love out’, he assures. She is a woman trapped by an extremely patriarchal society, but what’s so interesting is that in the private world Romeo and Juliet build together, they subvert gender roles to an extent. See how Juliet actively takes part in the lines I quoted above. She tends to take the initiative instead of waiting for Romeo to act. For instance, she proposes to him: 'If that thy bent of love be honourable, / Thy purpose marriage, send me word tomorrow…’

And Romeo is aware of Juliet’s force. While he must be the one to overcome the obstacles imposed by Capulet’s territory, inside those walls he finds a light within Juliet which, if it were free, would regenerate all Verona. 'Nothing can be ill if she be well’, he says. In his mind, she is capable of overcoming all physical limits and expand herself across the sky. She has the power to dethrone darkness: 'Birds would sing and think it were not night’. She is 'glorious to this night, being o'er my head’, shaming 'those stars as daylight doth a lamp’. Everyone would 'fall back to gaze on her’ while she 'bestrides the lazy-puffing clouds’. She is the fair sun, as powerful as 'a winged messenger of heaven’. In his dreams, she is free to come to him. 'I dreamt my lady came and found me dead’, he says. 'And breathed such life with kisses in my lips / That I revived and was an emperor.’ He literally dreams of being brought back to life by a kiss (Romeo wants to be a Disney princess 2k17). The dream makes him so happy he says it 'lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts’. So, honestly, if Juliet playfully tried to carry him in her arms, I think he would be delighted, and then he would just write a poem about it.

I noticed that in Zeffirelli’s movie, Juliet and Friar Lawrence wait for Romeo to walk down the aisle in the wedding scene. I thought that was a beautiful decision, because it befits their relationship wonderfully. Interestingly, Romeo agrees to 'deny thy father and refuse thy name’ so that they can be together. 'By a name, I know not how to tell thee who I am … Had I it written, I would tear the word.’ Here he still believes that it’s as easy as tearing a word—little does he know that he is fortune’s fool, or Verona’s for that matter. He is a dreamer living in a world where dreams are regarded as 'the children of an idle brain, / Begot of nothing but vain fantasy’. For the men, their identity as a Montague/Capulet represents their masculinity itself, but here Romeo is willing to get rid of his surname. Juliet is to determine his new identity: 'Neither, fair maid’, he says when Juliet asks if he is Romeo Montague, 'if either thee dislike’. However, he never asks the same from her and she never thinks of herself as part of his household. As his wife, she emphasizes her loyalty to him, but she never explicitly extends that love to other Montague members. Romeo, on the contrary, makes an effort to love Tybalt, whom he considers his kinsman already: 'Tybalt, that an hour hath been my cousin.’

They also consummate their marriage in her bed, in Capulet’s house. The morning after, it grieves Juliet to hear the lark 'hunting thee hence with hunt’s-up to the day’. As far as I know, a hunt’s-up was, among other things, a morning song to serenade the bride the morning after the wedding. Here Romeo fulfills that role. There is also a subversive nature in the last scene: Romeo deliberately opens the crypt of the Capulets to die on Juliet’s chest—his last pilgrimage to Juliet’s being. In choosing his wife over the feud and his identity as a Montague, as well as taking his life in the crypt of her household, he subverts, as this critic said here, 'the traditional passage of the female over to the male house in marriage and betokens his refusal to follow the code of his fathers’. When Lord Montague finds his corpse, he complains his son was ill-mannered for dying before him, because that breaks the father-son patriarchal succession thingy: 'O thou untaught! What manners is in this? / To press before thy father to a grave?’

So in killing himself with poison, often associated with femininity, he distances himself from the hypermasculinity which is so prominent in his society. Juliet, on the contrary, uses a dagger. Her suicide is resolute, immediate, violent, 'manly’ in the eyes of her society. 'Then I’ll be brief’, she says. And I think that’s mirrored in Montague’s promise to 'ray her statue in pure gold / That while Verona by that name is known, / There shall no figure at such rate be set.’ Capulet answers that 'as rich shall Romeo’s by his lady’s lie’. That is, I think, Romeo’s innermost wish: to lie by her side, admiring her forceful brightness. The story is introduced as Romeo and Juliet but it concludes with Juliet and her Romeo through the subversion of their love.

So I love to imagine them like that—Romeo happily dreaming of being revived by Juliet’s kisses and Juliet bragging about how boundless she is. At the beginning of the story, she is quite inhibited yet, while he is more straightforward, because that’s just the way they were raised. (I think that Romeo’s whole infatuation with Rosaline is, at the end of the day, just a way of asserting his masculinity.) But when they begin to free themselves through the potency of their emotions, she becomes resolute and he becomes more and more fascinated by her. I think if they lived in a better world, where they were able to truly be themselves, Juliet would lovingly give him roses, ask him out to dinner in a modern world, bring him to beautiful places, what have you, and Romeo would be delighted. I think a good production should portray them as what they are: rebellious teenagers who want to have fun, in spite of the strict social conventions that surround them. So someone should just draw your headcanon because it’s just so adorable.

[sjohnson24]

Vampire Poison

Let us sit down together and drink the sustenance of the Gods. If the potion is sweet, it is the one we chose to drink. If it were like wine, we would be drunk on it. If it is like water, then we will sustain on it. Yet, if the words we read cut dark and deep below our tongues, we will choke on the bitterness. It would be like poison.

Here now, let me show you the way to enlightenment. A way to change your mind into a more powerful and efficient paranormal thinker. Let us grasp symbols, signs and omens to divine the future. Let the Gods foretell their truths in this universal expansion.

Death Omen

A bat appears from the cave – a secret place which is hidden, lest a mortal trespass here, they will be inviting themselves into the land of the dead. There are many portals to underworlds hidden within the deepest of caves and buried deep, with the bones of the past. Ancient secrets, this is where they do dwell.

Crows fly above me, cawing to each other, lest they become lost and alone. For they know all to well, the dangers of being weak and vulnerable to the wild world. They lead me on, throughout the sky, into the general direction of safety and comfort. This is where I do dream.

In my dreams surfaces the answers to the world which cannot be seen with my eyes, as they are blind to spirits. Only within myself, can I find this place where the spirits do reside with much harmony. The beauty of the night unfolds, as the prince of darkness himself tells his secrets through art, with ink and black feathers to create.

The devil tries to take our souls to his fiery hell, where hereto he remains forever the own fool of an immortal heart. One which does not fear death yet, rather encompasses the whole energy of it all. The beat of which trespasses into the whole symphony of our time. We rise and set like the sun. We disappear to the other side for a short while, all of us lights in a changed sky.

We mimic the worlds of our spiritual ancestors through our genetic imprinted memories. Our D.N.A. carries signals and patterns, of a map to a beautiful world. It encodes itself through our brains and we then translate to the outside, what we have been manifesting from the inside, through the blood, the life force, the purpose code and the source of all being…

Death Name

Your death name is not the name upon your grave but, the one that you earned in this life to spark you into the next one. How will we know each other then? Like Dracula, or Spike, those who die and rise again shall have a new name. Such is the like of the glorious days, according to the Holy Bible;

”The one who is victorious I will make a pillar in the temple of my God. Never again will they leave it. I will write on them the name of my God and the name of the city of my God, the new Jerusalem, which is coming down out of heaven from my God; and I will also write on them my new name (Revelation 3:12).”

In mortal defense: The one who achieves immortality can find God, for they have the ability and time to seek him everywhere, leaving no stone upturned.

Also; “Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches.To the one who is victorious, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give that person a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to the one who receives it (Revelation 2:17).”

A white stone is one which is untouched by blood, sacrifice or war. It is a symbol for purity and permanence. It radiates at a higher frequency then most.

  “The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; “ (Psalm118:22)

A city built unlike any other. Tombs dedicated to the dead and reanimated corpses.

“As you come to him, the living Stone-rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to him (1 Peter 2:4).”

Stone formations symbolize the passage from one life to the next. A stone archway or a stone carved boat mark this spirit world journey and stand as vessels which then guide us from earth to eternity. Many cultures and religions use stone to symbolize the divine. This is because meteors fall from the sky and rock exists and endures in places humans cannot.

Demon Blood

The vampire is the opposite of the angel. It can be classified as a demon, or fallen angel. This is where they also tie into witches, as it is said that the most powerful ones can control them. It is held fast in thought that if a corpse is exposed to the moonlight, it may indeed turn into a vampire.

A fact that will shock you is that corpses can actually get goosebumps!I know that when I sense an otherworldly presence in the room that the hairs on my neck and arms stand up and I get them too! Perhaps it is another sense at work here.

These other forms of the devil, or of evil, all find great power underneath the moonlight. Mostly, they crave blood and other lustful things. Beware the curses of the dead side of the moon!

Loogaroo

In the west Indies, originates the story of the Loogaroo. It is the enchantment put onto an older woman by the devil, whereas she can shape shift into a light being and turn into a creature very similar to the werewolf (loup garou) to suck human’s blood. If she is injured in her energetic form, then she will reveal the illusion and turn back into her true self.

Vukodlak

Slavic vampire werewolf, which translates literally into “wolf’s hair.”

It is created forty days after a person dies. It enters the corpse and reanimates the person. It only leaves to drink human blood and have sex with them.

Superstition

A Romanian superstition is that if bats are flying over a grave, it signals a transformation of the dead person into a vampire. This omen was perhaps inspired by the rediscovery of the vampire bat in the 16th century. A mysterious and interesting creature to symbolize the times.

Crossroads

Some cultures have belief that a vampire gets their powers from the crossroads while others say that it may instead be a place of neutrality. Whatever the case may be, they do manifest a lot of energy. Ghosts and many other magical beings may haunt these places as well because it was known that those beings who are lost and sorrowful, such as sinners and suicides were not supposed to buried on sacred grounds, instead it was advisable to bury them at the crossroads instead, so that they do not wreak havoc upon the souls of the dead.

The devil causes us to feel passionately and with great force. To love and know so deeply, in turn makes it hard to pass onto the spiritual world. It is indeed a bad thing to attach to everyone in such a way that they become idol tools of despair, heartache and destitution which cause pain to us.

Vampire Poison

Take now your vessels and fill them with energy to sustain you. Be careful from which well you drink as many are toxic reservoirs. Our spiritual truths combine in order to evolve into a global culture. Let the patterns of the spiders who spin the webs of destiny be fulfilled in their purpose and design.

Our meaning to live and die will transform us into a new salvation. Each one of us has got something to offer each other to heal the Earth. Let us not poison our minds with false promises and irrelevant fantasies and carry on with the life of eternity…

Let us go on together to this inevitable quest. May angels protect you and fairies gift you with information and beauty. May your heart be the cup from which you drink these things. Let the stars and sky and dirt absorb you and trust them to bring you back to life too.

By Deanna Jaxine Stinson, Vampirologist Halo Paranormal Investigations – HPI International. www.cryptic916.com/ jazmaonline.boards.net/ http://www.facebook.com/#!/groups/HPIinternational/

[gretagerwigarchive]

Greta Gerwig: 'I'm at peak shock and happiness'

by  Tim Lewis, Sun 4 Feb 2018.

source: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2018/feb/04/greta-gerwig-lady-bird-interview-metoo-oscars

This year’s Oscar nominations were announced a couple of Tuesdays ago in Los Angeles at the frankly antisocial hour of 5.22am. Greta Gerwig, whose very personal, coming-of-age debut film Lady Bird was hotly tipped, lives in New York but happened to be in LA for work. She woke up first at 3.30am: “And I said, ‘No, it’s not time’ and I forced myself to go back to sleep.” When she eventually surfaced just before seven, the nominations were headlines around the world. Gerwig made herself a coffee, had a shower and ever-so-casually checked her phone. There it was: she’d made the cut for best original screenplay. And “achievement in directing”. Oh, and Lady Bird was in the running for best picture, too.              

“I started crying and laughing and screaming,” says the 34-year-old Gerwig, who, until now, has been mainly known as an actor, often in comic roles. “And it sunk in… It’s still sinking in. It doesn’t quite feel real. You’re still getting me at peak shock and happiness.”

The Oscar selections were a personal triumph for Gerwig and for Lady Bird – its stars, Saoirse Ronan and Laurie Metcalf, who play a squabbling daughter and mother, are also nominated – but it was an important moment for female film-makers everywhere. Gerwig, scarcely credibly, is only the fifth woman ever to be shortlisted in the best director category at the Academy Awards in its 90 years. If she wins on 4 March, she will only be the second, after Kathryn Bigelow for The Hurt Locker in 2010, to take the honour.

“I remember very well when Sofia Coppola was nominated for best director and won best screenplay [for Lost in Translation in 2004] and what that meant to me,” says Gerwig on the phone from New York last week. “And I remember when Kathryn Bigelow won for best director and how it seemed as if possibilities were expanded because of it. I genuinely hope that what this means to women of all ages – young women, women who are well into their careers – is that they look at this and they think, ‘I want to go make my movie.’ Because a diversity of storytellers is incredibly important and also I want to see their movies. I want to know what they have to say! So I hope that’s what it does.”

These have been a seismic few months for women in the film industry. The allegations against the producer Harvey Weinstein and others, while monstrous in their scope and detail, have led to the most positive kind of backlash: through the #MeToo and Time’s Up movements, and the 50/50 by 2020 initiative, which aims to have male-female parity in the business world in two years. There’s an optimism that Hollywood has changed for ever.

“I think it’s going to shift much more quickly now,” says Gerwig. “When studios are looking to hire now, they’ll ask themselves – as they rightly should – ‘Is there a woman who is qualified for this job?’ That’s tremendously important. And again, if I were running a studio, I would think that it’s just good business. Because I look at the audience response to films made by women about women that have done incredibly well and I’d say, ‘Well, that’s a reason right off the bat.’”

As for whether there are any plans for a co-ordinated style protest at this year’s Oscars, in line with the black gowns at the Golden Globes or white roses at the Grammys, both orchestrated by the Time’s Up organisers, Gerwig is unsure. “I am not aware of a dress code,” she says. But if there is, she’s in: “I’m in awe of the people who are collectively working on this.”

Gerwig insists she hasn’t dared yet think about how it would feel to win an Oscar. But if the Golden Globes, where Lady Bird took the prize for best film (comedy/musical), is anything to go by, she might well struggle to hold it together. “I had an entire speech prepared but once I got up there, none of it came out,” she says with a laugh. “I was looking down and I saw Oprah and Steven Spielberg and I just went into a state of sublime happiness. I think I just said ‘thank you’ a lot. So my guess would be, I’ll prepare and probably I’ll not say any of it – if it should happen. Because that’s just how those moments seem to go for me.”

When I first talk to Gerwig, on an otherwise regulation Friday during the London film festival, there is a surreal, even comic, imbalance in London’s Soho hotel. Movie stars, it appears, outnumber the rest of us. Bill Nighy stands at a urinal in the men’s room, director Alexander Payne sweeps through the lobby. In the lift up to the suite where Gerwig is doing interviews, who else? The great Christoph Waltz.

“Christoph Waltz is here?” she shrieks. The pair became friends when they were on the jury for the Berlin film festival and catch up every so often for dinner in New York. “He’s one of my favourite people; he makes fun of me the entire time,” says Gerwig. “On the jury, there was this one time where we had a meeting with Angela Merkel. So I wore something that felt appropriate for a daytime lunch with a head of state. And I showed up and Christoph looked at me and said – she slips into a strident Mitteleuropean accent – ‘Greta, are you applying for an internship with Angela?’” Gerwig cracks up. “‘Did you bring your resumé?’ I looked such a nerd.”

Payne she knows less well, but is an ardent fan. At the Telluride festival last September, there was a photocall for the film-makers in attendance and Gerwig collected a giant bruise on her leg trying to hurdle a bench to tell Payne how much she liked his latest movie, Downsizing. “I thought, ‘I must tell him it’s a masterpiece,’” she explains. “So as I’m jumping over the bench, it clipped my shin and I went sprawling. Everyone turned to look and I looked up at him and I said, ‘It was a masterpiece!’ And he said, ‘You could have just walked over.’”

Right now, there are plenty of people – rightly and properly, albeit metaphorically – tripping over furniture to tell Gerwig that she’s made her own masterpiece. Lady Bird is a beautiful, affectionate rumination on the mother-daughter dynamic that could well be this year’s Moonlight: an underdog that charms and surprises, and overshadows everything else.

It is not immediately clear how to square these achievements with Gerwig’s tendency towards self-deprecation. Physically, she mixes elegance with eccentricity. At 5ft 9in, with credulous sea-green eyes, and today wearing a pink, pleated cocktail dress with buckled black-and-white heels, she presents an image of impossible glamour. But she undercuts the effect by slouching a little, laughing unguardedly and demonstrating odd and endearing mannerisms, such as the stiff handshake of a Victorian industrialist packing his son off to boarding school.

“I arrived on a flight this morning at 6am, so this is all pretend,” she explains, smoothing an invisible wrinkle on her frock. “I don’t actually feel like this inside. People came to my room and made me look nice. I know, everyone needs it.”

In Lady Bird and before, Gerwig is drawn to dreamers: young women who believe they are destined for greatness, even when the audience finds plenty of cause to doubt that. The film follows Ronan as 17-year-old Christine McPherson, who’d rather you call her Lady Bird: when asked if it’s her given name, she clarifies: “It’s given to me, by me.” The year is 2002, the place is Sacramento, a mid-size city in California, and both these facts are a cruel disappointment to her: “The only exciting thing about 2002 is that it’s a palindrome,” Lady Bird sighs. She’s in her final year at an all-girls Catholic high school and, after graduating, she wants to move to the east coast to study, “where writers live in the woods”. This is one of many, though perhaps the most irreconcilable, point of contention with her mother, Marion (a heart-wrenching Metcalf).

It has been a common assumption that Lady Bird is Gerwig’s teenage diaries transcribed. She, too, grew up in Sacramento and attended a Catholic school there, before escaping to the other side of the country, to Barnard College in New York, where she studied English and wanted to become a playwright. But, Gerwig notes, not sniffily, that there are plenty of differences, as well. She didn’t dye her hair pink or assume a strange name or even argue that viciously with her mother.

“Even though it isn’t literally autobiographical there’s a core of emotional truth that’s very resonant,” says Gerwig. “Again, it’s not what literally happened, but it does rhyme with the truth. It’s close in a way. And it doesn’t bother me, because it’s the assumption people make and in a way maybe they make that assumption because it feels very real. So it’s not dissimilar to when people think a character is you. Which you could be offended by or you could also think, ‘Well, then I’ve done my job. You’ve believed it. You think that’s me.’

“But I don’t know,” she continues. “I think one thing about doing this for a period of time is that you learn how to live through either misconceptions or correct conceptions and just continue doing the work. Because then you figure, ‘Well, in the end, I’ll just be an old lady one day and then they’ll think, Oh, she’s an old lady.’ And they’ll be right!”

What, then, are some solid, hard facts about Gerwig? She is the eldest child of Gordon and Christine, a loans officer for a credit union and a retired nurse respectively. As a child, she was a diligent student with an obsessive streak: her first passion was dancing; later, she would become skilled in the sport of fencing.

“I loved ballet,” says Gerwig. “I always knew I wasn’t the most naturally gifted of anyone who was doing ballet. I didn’t have quite enough turn out, my feet weren’t quite right, but I did work harder than anyone else. And I think that’s something I have maintained. There’s no substitute for hard work.”

Gerwig acted a little at school but became more serious at college. She saw herself as a theatre person, but when she was rejected from graduate programmes in playwriting, she started working on films with her friends. These no-budget projects became notorious in arty, hipster circles and then beyond, where they were, somewhat derisively, called mumblecore; they were sketched out, but not scripted, and the makers were involved in every aspect of production.

“Those became kind of a makeshift film school for me,” says Gerwig, referring to LOL (2006), Hannah Takes the Stairs (2007) and Nights and Weekends (2008), which she made with Joe Swanberg. “When I went into pre-production for Lady Bird, I’d been working in films in different capacities for 10 years. Especially on the early little ones because it was an all-hands-on-deck situation. If you weren’t doing something on camera, you held the camera.”

These early films, too, led in a roundabout way to Gerwig’s acting breakthrough. Swanberg knew the director Noah Baumbach and he then cast her in his 2010 film Greenberg, opposite Ben Stiller. The film received mixed notices, but Gerwig’s performance caught many eyes. In the New York Times, critic AO Scott described her style as a method without method. “Ms Gerwig,” he wrote, “most likely without intending to be anything of the kind, may well be the definitive screen actress of her generation, a judgment I offer with all sincerity and a measure of ambivalence.”

Greenberg was a life-changing experience personally as well: after it wrapped, Gerwig and Baumbach began dating, for a while on the down-low, these days more openly, though Gerwig tends to refer to him as “Noah Baumbach” or “Baumbach” in our interview, suggesting they keep their work and private lives quite distinct. They soon began collaborating and their first film as a writing team was 2012’s Frances Ha, a warm-hearted, black-and-white comedy about a dancer, Frances (Gerwig), who doesn’t seem wholly cut out for the real world. They followed that with Mistress America in 2015, which has a similar vibe: Gerwig plays Brooke, who has a million creative ideas and a very low strike rate.

Gerwig’s writing, first with Baumbach and now on her own, has a naturalistic tone that is funny without having jokes, heartbreaking without being schmaltzy, highly specific and yet clearly universal. She is so particular about how the dialogue sounds – the “music” of speech – that there is a not a single line of improvisation in Lady Bird, not even an added “like” or “you know”.

“I like language that sounds quotidian but poetic,” says Gerwig – the perfect description. “Something that maybe the character doesn’t even know is as beautiful as it is. That’s something I was working through when I was writing with Noah Baumbach and I just kept moving in that direction. That was always what I liked. That quality of stumbling into beauty and then it’s gone.”

It is a timely moment for Gerwig to emerge as a director and for her debut to have such an assured, idiosyncratic voice. Despite the success of Lady Bird at the Golden Globes in January, Gerwig was a glaring absentee on the best director shortlist. Natalie Portman, presenting the award, made the point succinctly, announcing: “And here are the all-male nominees.” Likewise, the Baftas have a five-man shortlist.

Of course, this is just one facet of the soul searching that the film industry is now going through. In the week that I meet Gerwig, the first allegations of sexual abuse have been made against Harvey Weinstein, and it was clear that Gerwig found the revelations upsetting and deeply shocking.

“I felt so badly for all those women,” she says, “and I felt so understanding of where they were, especially the young women, the women who were in college, the women who were just excited about movies and film-making and found themselves in a position that they didn’t know how to say no, but they didn’t know how to leave and that they felt overpowered and then they felt scared to say anything.”

There are tears in her eyes; her voice cracks. “I’ve felt for so long that there just need to be more women in positions of power,” Gerwig goes on. “Not that women are magic or perfect beings, but that they need to have a seat at the table because then I would think that things like this would have far less chance of happening.”

When Gerwig realised she was writing about mothers and daughters, she started thinking about movies that covered a similar theme. There were hundreds of films on the father-son relationship, including some excellent ones by Baumbach, but she struggled to think of stories told from the female perspective: James Brooks’s Terms of Endearment (1983) and Mike Leigh’s Secrets and Lies (1996) were among the rare inspirations. “There are surprisingly few movies about it,” says Gerwig, “and I think that speaks to the fact that there are surprisingly few female film-makers.”

In preparation for shooting Lady Bird, Gerwig created dossiers for her lead characters. Timothée Chalamet, for example – who plays Lady Bird’s crush Kyle and is also Oscar-nominated this year for his role in another coming-of- age drama, Call Me By Your Name – was directed towards the films of Éric Rohmer and a collection of theoretical essays, The Internet Does Not Exist. Kyle is a pretentious mansplainer: he lectures Lady Bird on how mobile phones are tracking devices for the government and that clove cigarettes have fibreglass in them. At one point, he puts down Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States to announce, “I’m trying to live by bartering alone”.

Kyle’s a pseud, but Gerwig clearly has a soft spot for him. “I am not a fan of phones,” she explains. “I talked for a long time with Timothée about his character’s beliefs, and he said, ‘The funny thing is that everybody is going to think you’re Lady Bird, but you’re Kyle’.” Gerwig laughs, “And I was like, ‘I know! I am secretly Kyle.’ I have all of the same paranoias as Kyle does.”

Gerwig is technically a millennial, but not spiritually so. She grew up pre-internet and has no social media presence: “Sure, I’ll lurk. But I don’t participate. I’m just a Peeping Tom.” Part of the reason for setting Lady Bird in 2002 is that it’s not “cinematic” to shoot screens. She longs for the pre-phone era when you couldn’t get hold of someone instantly, and the only way to find them would be to drive around to all the locations they might be. We rarely allow ourselves to become properly bored, Gerwig believes, and the internet and smartphones are in part responsible.

On the wall of her bedroom, Lady Bird has the Leo Tolstoy quote, “Boredom: the desire for desires.” “Boredom is, I think, pretty useful,” says Gerwig. “You need to reach a level of boredom to make anything. Because I don’t know if you remember, being bored as a kid, just so bored. You were at a grocery store with your mom and you were like, ‘It’s just excruciating!’ But then you get to a point where you start making up a game for yourself or you’ll start imagining things or whatever it is. But I worry that we’ve lost that capacity, which I think maybe erodes some creativity as well.

“I’m just as bad as anyone,” she admits. “Because it’s like your flitting brain can be completely satisfied by this machine that can give you feedback for all of your passing thoughts. Like, ‘Where can you grow avocados?’ I don’t know, let’s find out. And then, ‘Oh, how much water does an avocado tree take every year?’ Let’s look at that. And then, ‘Different crops and the water usage for each of them.’ You are creating this weird feedback loop for yourself.”

This is a very Gerwigian conundrum: hem-hawing about restricting access to the internet because she’s worried she’ll waste time Googling avocados. But she’s not saying it to be cute. It clearly concerns her. One of the strict directives on the set of the Lady Bird was that it was entirely phone-free. “And not just for the actors, for the crew,” she says, “because it’s quite depressing for an actor to be doing an emotional scene and look over and see someone checking Instagram. It’s a real bummer. But it was quite impressive, because I had a lot of young people in this movie and none of them ever brought their phones to set. Saoirse set the tone: I never saw her on her phone, never once.”

Gerwig is effusive about her two stars, Ronan and Metcalf. Everything in the film, she says, comes back to “the central love story” between Marion and Christine, mother and daughter. “For all of time it’s probably been the most rich, fraught relationship. Something with Laurie and Saoirse that I loved was that they were the same height and I gave them the same haircuts so that when they were in profile, you say: ‘Oh, you’re so at odds with each other but actually you’re the same. And that’s why the fighting is so intense because you guys can both bring it.’

“So I knew I needed actresses who could punch the same weight class,” Gerwig adds. “They give extraordinary performances and they should get all the statues and prizes. Work like that should be rewarded.”

For her part, whatever happens, Gerwig insists that little will change. She will keep acting – when the project and specifically the director is right – and she wants to collaborate with Baumbach again: “I hope Noah and I will write another movie together because it’s really, really fun.” She also wants to start her own production company one day. “It’s important that if you have any kind of a platform and it matters to you that you should figure out how to bring other people along,” she says.

As for the Oscars, she is not about to pretend that she’s not freaking out a little. “I grew up watching all the award shows and I’d put on a fancy dress and watch it with my friends,” Gerwig recalls. “It’s thrilling and it’s also part of what the dream of making films is.”

Then Gerwig’s eyes narrow; these are defining moments both for her personally as a director and also as an inspirational member of the too-small band of female film-makers. “But awards are not important in terms of whether or not I’ll make another film,” she says. “I’ll keep making films, no matter what.”