#i should do one for peter caricatures soon

[angelamontoo]

Opposite of my last Poll! If you had to kill off one of these Peter Lorre characters or otherwise change the film so they don't get as happy of an ending, which character would you let suffer?

Also please feel free to suggest ways X character could die/suffer in the notes!

[never-rpg]

Welcome to NEVER RPG! Please send in your url within 48 hours. Be sure to look over our checklist. We hope you enjoy, or at least survive, your time on the island!

Since this is our first wave of acceptance and we are not officially open for roleplaying yet, just a few reminders before we get to the acceptances. Our discord server won’t be sent out until a little closer to our second wave of acceptances. Once you’ve sent in your blog and we’ve posted here on main, you are good to start doing anything your heart desires on your character’s blog except for actual roleplay threads. Plot it up, share character development memes, post your edits and headcanons! Go wild and have fun! :D

Welcome to the island, CHARLOTTE! You been accepted as TINKER BELL with the faceclaim of Tamzin Merchant.

Tinker Bell is one of those characters who can so easily be portrayed as a caricature, but you have given her such dimension and depth! ‘- but as misfortune loves orphans and fire loves innocence, Tinker Bell loves Peter - and it was her that he needed to pull him out of the depths of his mind and bring the island out of its eternal winter. She is the ocean and he is the sand. She loves him continuously but with increasing apprehension and decreasing hope.’ Tragic and lovely, I can’t wait to see more! And have I listened to Tink’s playlist an unhealthy number of times? Yes, yes I have. No regrets!

Welcome to the island, DRYNNE! You been accepted as ISADORA BOOTH with the faceclaim of Ruby Cruz.

My heart aches for Isadora and all that she’s been through but also, damn, what a badass! As soon as I started reading your app, I knew we’d found our Isadora. ‘Fighting was far easier than being inside a cage of meekness’ that really is her in a nutshell and I’m so here for it! While Isadora’s violence is blunt and brutal, your writing painted her in intricate lines that interlaced with one another to create a full and dynamic character who I can’t wait to stalk the threads of on the dash!

Welcome to the island, ELLE! You been accepted as IANTHE with the faceclaim of Ayça Ayşin Turan.

First of all, your writing style is hauntingly beautiful! I might have audibly squealed in delight when reading about Ianthe’s tail because it’s just so good and suits her so well! You have spun such an intimidating and compelling character. I mean, ‘We all know intrinsically that the terrible and the terrific bleed into each other, that all life’s greatest pleasures lie on the other side of pain, that paltry is the passion that never makes us shudder. Ianthe is this thesis made flesh: Bone-chillingly horrifying and all the lovelier for it’. I’m equal parts enchanted and terrified and I absolutely love it!

Welcome to the island, LIOT! You been accepted as HOLLY with the faceclaim of Amandla Stenberg.

I am so invested in this puppeteering Small Folk already! There’s just something so wonderfully horrifying about the idea of Holly setting traps for unsuspecting Lost Boys so she can crawl into their minds. Should this line, ‘Holly had chomped at the bit to see Peter toss Charlie to the Many-Eyed, ghastly beasts that Holly had called their friends’, have made me go ‘aww!’ because I love seeing these exterminated beasties be appreciated? Probably not, but here we are. You’ve created an OC who feels like they were always meant to be a part of the group. We needed Holly and I cannot wait to see what antics they get it up to!

Welcome to the island, MADS! You been accepted as WENDY DARLING with the faceclaim of Kristine Froseth.

Gothic romance is my catnip and you gave it to me in spades with your application! As soon as I read ‘Peter would never give Wendy what she craved. She was so lovingly devoted to him, but he couldn’t love her back when he was too busy loving how she made him feel: adored, righteous, powerful.’ I got so excited to read more. And the more I read, more and more your depiction of Wendy just right clicked into place with every aspect of this roleplay! Wendy makes for such a lovely gothic heroine. I can’t wait to see what’s in store for her!

Welcome to the island, MAREK! You been accepted as NOD with the faceclaim of Leo Suter.

I loved that throughout your app, I could clearly see the rambunctious Lost Boy underneath and how the tragedies Nod underwent shaped him into the man he is now. ‘Nod never imagined a possibility of losing his brother, his twin, his other half - he swears to this day that when the shot tore through his brother’s body he felt it too’. This is truly gothic horror gold and I felt it in my soul! 

Welcome to the island, NYX! You been accepted as CECCO with the faceclaim of Aidan Turner.

My heartstrings feel abused after reading your app and I am not at all mad about it. There’s so much pirate romanticism here to revel in! For example: ‘Whenever a new ship finds its way to the shores and raise their white flag, they will ask for them to take their letters, tossing them into the sea as they sail away from the isle’. And I don’t want to spoil all of your headcanons, but I really hope the sketch they keep in the sheath of their sword finds its way into our discord server someday...Just sayin’.

Welcome to the island, SID! You been accepted as SAWYER with the faceclaim of Omar Rudberg.

You nailed every aspect of Sawyer’s skeleton bio and fleshed them out with such intention! I can’t imagine any other take on Sawyer because yours is so well-crafted. There are so many lines from your app I could have chosen to highlight but, 'So you run and scream and fight and play, all the while plastering a smile to your face and trying to lose yourself to the wildness that thrums through Neverland like a second heartbeat, that you want so desperately to course through you too’, feels like the perfect summarization of this Lost Boy!

Many people applied for Pan’s wanted connection concerning the ‘kiss’, it was a difficult choice, but we’ve decided to give this connection to Ianthe. Also, as a side note since a couple of apps referenced it, while J.M. Barrie could exist in our rpg’s universe, the plays and stories he wrote about Neverland and Peter Pan do not. 

All important pages on the main will be updated in the next several minutes to reflect these acceptances. Thank you so much to everyone who applied!! Our second wave of acceptances will be held on December 31st. Opening day, January 1st, can’t come soon enough! I can’t wait to write with every one of you!

[wrenhyperfixates]

Perfect

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: After much research and seeking out advice from Tony, Loki asks you on a date. Warnings: dialogue heavy and an adorably awkward Loki A/N: Thank you for requesting @akhansen2800! I hope you enjoy :) 

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

The common room was a mess, thanks to the trickster god. There was paper and books littered all over the floor. Not to mention bits and pieces from the computer he may or may not have smashed against the ground. It really was hardly his fault, though; it was the insipid machine that dared defy him.

“Woah, Reindeer Games,” Tony said, walking in, sidestepping the junk on the ground. “Did a tornado hit or something?”

“Oh, very funny, Stark. If you ask me, it is an improvement over this drab decor you have picked,” Loki quipped, eyes never leaving the page he was reading.

“No, how could you! My heart, it can’t take this,” Tony overdramatically gasped, flopping on top of the papers strewn on the couch. “Goodbye, cruel world.”

“Your theatrics never cease to amaze me,” Loki sighed, finally looking up at the man he’d come to call friend. “And that says a lot, coming from me.”

“You’re right, it’s high praise.” Tony picked up one of the papers he’d crinkled from laying on top of. “What is all this, anyway?”

Just because Loki considered Tony a friend, didn’t mean he necessarily wanted to say what he was doing. He was still a rather closed off person and, in all honesty, preferred to avoid any and all talks about his emotions. Which, of course, brings him right back to why he’s sitting in the middle of this mess, anyway. His emotions, which, despite his best efforts, he did still have.

Loki stood up and stretched his muscles, achy from being hunched over his reading material for so long.  He snatched away the page Tony was perusing, only for him to grab another one to skim. Realizing any effort to keep confiscating the papers one at a time would be fruitless, Loki moved it all to his room with a snap of his fingers. Then he sat next to his companion and began wringing his hands in that awful nervous tic of his. Truth be told, he could use some advice, but that only brought him back to square one of having to talk about his feelings. Tony leaned back on the couch while patiently awaiting Loki’s answer.

“I was doing some research,” Loki finally admitted. “On some Midgardian things.”

“That’s cute, Reindeer, but you could just ask me. Or maybe Peter if it's a pop culture thing.”

“It is not.” Loki wondered how much he could beat around the bush before he either had to give up on the conversation or genuinely say what was wrong. “It is just something I am not entirely sure how to go about.”

“I’m great at giving advice.”

“No, you are not,” Loki rolled his eyes.

“Sure I am!” Tony exclaimed, feigning hurt. “How would you know, anyway? You’ve never actually asked me for any.”

“Maybe not, but I have seen the way you live your own life, Stark.”

“That’s entirely different,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Come on, give me a chance. Fire away, I’m ready.”

Loki merely rolled his eyes again, though he was actually considering it. He hated to admit it—he really hated to admit it—but Tony had become somewhat of a father figure to him. That was absolutely ridiculous, of course, considering how Loki was a thousand years older than the man. But after his childhood, he’d be silly to reject that kind of relationship. Loki supposed that if he had to go to anyone with this problem, Tony wasn’t a terrible option. Besides, he should probably let himself be emotionally vulnerable very once in a while, right? That was supposed to be good or something, he thought. So, he steeled himself, and told Tony his issue.

“There is this Midgardian that I know. They are very sweet and kind and perfect... I mean, they are as bearable as a Midgardian can be,” Loki covered up, blushing slightly from how much he had just revealed. “I would like to ask them to spend some time with me, but I am not sure how.”

“Awww, you have a crush,” Tony cooed. “How sweet. You want to ask them out.”

“No,” Loki protested, stubborn as ever. Tony just raised his eyebrows at him. “Ok, fine! Yes, I would like to take them on a date, but I am dreadfully lacking in knowledge on Midgardian dating etiquette.”

“You’ve come to the right place,” Tony grinned. “Oh and take notes.”

And so, Loki spent the next two and a half hours listening to Tony ramble on. Most of it was just him going on rather useless tangents about his own endeavors in love. The God of Mischief rolled his eyes so many times, he began to fear they might roll out of his head. His notes, at least, were pretty amusing. Ok, to call them notes may be a little generous. They were mainly silly doodles of Tony monologuing, with the few helpful things he said jotted in the margins. He got so invested in one of his little caricatures that he didn’t even notice Tony stopped speaking.

“Hey, that’s not what I look like,” Tony pouted, peering at the drawing.

“Well nothing you were saying was helping, Stark.” Loki put the note pad in one of his dimensional pockets. “I am not like you. I am not a flashy person when it comes to matters of the heart.”

“Oh, so you want to go the be yourself way. You know, the sappy speeches and flowers and chocolates direction.”

Loki perked up a bit. “Yes. Yes, that sounds splendid.”

Tony sighed and gave Loki a list of movies to watch. And told him to speak from the heart. That troubled Loki; no one ever really cared to listen to him speak before. But, he dutifully watched all the assigned movies, supplemented by some of the books he was still combing through.

After a week of preparation and many, many drafts of a speech to say to you, Loki was finally ready to ask you out. Donning his best Midgardian suit, he walked out of his room, greeted by a bright flash of light. Tony was standing there, camera in hand.

“Look, at my little boy,” he fake cried. “All grown up.”

“Stark, will your antics ever stop?” Loki looked at the camera out of the corner of his eye. “And delete that photo, I was not ready.”

“Nope. It’s payback for all those unflattering doodles. Now, go get ‘em, Reindeer. Remember: Just be yourself.”

Easier said than done, Loki thought as he called upon his seiðr, teleporting to your street. You were an employee at Stark Tower; that’s how the two of you met. Loki had been looking for his brother, his search taking him into the cafeteria, one of his least favorite places in the whole building. It was always too loud and populated for someone who liked his silence and solitude. The sheer number of people in the room was overwhelming to the god that day, but he needed to speak with Thor, and he’d searched just about every other place his brother could be. He could not spot him in the crowd, but his eyes landed on you, off near a corner at a table alone and reading a book. He cast one last nervous look around the room before heading towards where you were, his social anxiety kicking in.

“Hello,” he said after clearing his throat.

You looked up at him with a dreamy sort of gleam in your eye that revealed how enchanted you’d been with your book. It gave Loki a little boost of confidence to know that that happened to you, too. That you could get so lost in a story that the world around you disappeared. It calmed his racing heart a little.

“Oh uh, hi,” you greeted with a chipper smile. Then more nervously, added, “It’s Loki, right?”

“Yes, that is correct. Loki of Asgard, pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said, sweeping into a small bow. “And you are?”

You told him his name, extending your hand for a shake. “How can I help you?”

“I am looking for my brother, but I cannot find him. You have not seen him around, have you?”

“I actually did see him earlier, though I’m not sure- Wait!” you suddenly exclaimed, and Loki followed your gaze. “He’s over there.”

Loki gulped. Of course his brother was at the table in the center of the room, surrounded by people. He really needed to talk to him about a mission, but the thought of going over there was making his stomach feel queasy. He tried to take a step forward, but his feet were apparently glued to the floor.

“Hey, if you’re nervous about going over there, I get it. Crowds can be scary,” you said, picking up on his subtle fidgeting. “The room usually clears out significantly in about ten minutes from now. I, um, was going to that little cafe over in the corner and get some tea or coffee, if you want to come.” Loki stared at you for a moment, unused to being invited places, especially by mortals he did not know. You seemed to mistake his silence, though, and rushed to assure him he didn’t have to. “Sorry, that was probably stupid. You’re under no obligation to say yes, of course. I understand.”

“No! I mean, yes.” He sighed and mentally smacked himself. Ever since moving to Midgard, his silver tongue was not what it used to be around strangers. “I mean, no that is not stupid, and yes, I would like to go to that cafe with you.”

And go to that cafe you did, launching into an animated conversation about reading. Loki even made you laugh, which felt like a huge accomplishment to him. The both of you sat back down at your table with your warm drinks, still chatting. There were very few people Loki ever felt so relaxed with, especially so soon after meeting them. You didn’t talk about anything groundbreaking, but he enjoyed talking to a kindred spirit. Somehow you even got a smile tugging at his lips, getting wider by the minute.

True to what you’d said, the room noticeably emptied nearly ten minutes later. With only a few people left and after such an amazing conversation, Loki was sure he could go grab his brother out of the room. But that was the problem; the conversation was too amazing, and he didn’t want it to end. And it seemed you didn’t either.

“Hey, um, maybe this is weird, but do you maybe want to talk again sometime? Like if you ever need a friend or are bored or anything?” you ventured.

“I would love that,” he genuinely replied.

You quickly wrote down your number and, after double and triple checking it, handed it to him. He tucked it safely away in one of his inner pockets before getting up and you bidding you goodbye. Then, in a better mood than he’d been in in a long time, Loki waltzed over to Thor’s table and successfully extracted him from the few people still clinging to his every word. He glanced back at you one last time before exiting, and you gave him a small, somewhat shy wave. He returned it along with a smile.

Loki kept that all in his heart as he walked up to your door, finger hovering by the bell for a minute. Maybe this was silly. No, this was definitely ridiculous. But, if he stood here any longer, your neighbors would probably think he was some crazy person.

Really, he shouldn’t be so nervous. You talked all the time since that day of your first meeting, and you’d never seemed bothered by him before. Not even when he started bringing surprise morning coffees to your desk. Or when he started leaving you books he thought you might like. Or when he started giving you little hugs when you seemed down. In fact, you seemed touched by all that. But this was all so new to him, so different from anything he’d known before. What if he was reading it all wrong? Before he could talk himself out if it, he rang the bell.

He heard you shout that you were coming in response. He quickly adjusted his tie and then stood with the flowers hidden behind his back. He made sure to get a bouquet of your favorites. You opened the door and your mouth made an adorable little “o” of surprise before your lips formed a sweet smile.

“Loki!” you greeted, smoothing down your sweatshirt. “I wasn’t expecting you. Don’t get me wrong, though. It’s great to see you. Um, do you want to come in? The place is kind of a mess right now, but-”

Loki whipped out the flowers from behind him, making you cut out in surprise. He stared at his feet and nervously mumbled, “These are for you.”

“Loki, these are so beautiful. This is so sweet. Thank you.” You gave him one of those shy smiles that he loved so much. “I feel bad, I don’t have anything for you.”

“That is quite alright. I have come here to ask you something.”

“Oh! Ok. I’m all ears.”

Loki smiled at the Midgardian expression, calming him a little. “We have been friends for some time now, and I have thoroughly enjoyed every minute—nay, every second—I have spent with you. You are the most kindhearted being I have ever met, beautiful both inside and out. And thus, I find myself wanting something more than friendship, if you will allow it. My dear, sweet, darling little mortal, will you do me the honor of going on a date with me?”

“Oh, Loki,” you breathed. “That was beautiful. I would absolutely love to go on a date with you.”

He cheered on the inside, and you hugged him close. After you pulled away, the two of you stood there for a minute, smiling like dorks. It seemed to Loki that no matter how badly he wanted to say something else, the only thought occupying his brain was that you said yes. He could hardly believe you said yes.

“So, uh, what are we going to do on our date?” you sheepishly asked.

Loki’s face dropped. He couldn’t believe how foolish he was. “I do not know yet. I knew there was something I was forgetting. I am sorry, darling.”

“That’s ok, Loki,” you kindheartedly laughed. “Tell you what, there’s a bookstore with the most adorable little cafe in it, just a couple blocks from here. Why don’t we go there?”

“That sounds perfect,” he replied, his smile returning already. “How does tomorrow sound? I can come pick you up around noon?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You stared at each for another minute, those same goofy grins that gave away how happy you were plastered on your faces. When Loki began to overthink how awkward he probably looked, he found it in himself to tear his eyes away from your beauty.

“So I shall see you tomorrow then,” he nervously said.

“Yup! See you then,” you replied, your nerves equaling his own.

After a quick hug and waving goodbye to each other, you parted ways. Soon, Loki was back home in the Tower, happily sprawled on the sofa, book in hand.

“Hey Reindeer Games,” Tony greeted. “So, how’d it go? Was I right, or was I right?”

“As much as it pains me to admit it, Stark, you were right.” Loki smiled to himself, already daydreaming about your date. “It was perfect.”

Loki found that after so much anxiety and uncertainness, there was finally one thing he knew; tomorrow was going to be perfect, too.

[not-wholly-unheroic]

Viewing Disney’s Peter Pan Through the Eyes of an Adult

Recently, I’ve seen several posts floating around talking about how Disney’s Hook is difficult for people to take seriously and is much too comical for what Barrie had intended. I grew up with Disney’s Hook. He was my first introduction to the character and the reason why I became interested in reading classic literature, writing fanfic, and seriously delving into the analysis of complex villainous/antagonistic characters, so he has a very special place in my heart and I’m prone to be quick to defend him. Rather than writing a long-winded reply to these individual posts, I decided to just make my own explaining why Disney’s Hook can be viewed as just as tragic and sympathetic as any other version. (You can also read some of my earlier posts defending Disney’s Hook here and here.)

*takes a deep breath* *cracks knuckles* Buckle up kiddos! You’re in for a long ride!

My view of Disney’s Hook as a tragic character lies primarily in my sympathy for him when he switches from a proud, elegant, dangerous character to a shivering mess of a man when the crocodile comes around. Let me attempt to elaborate--but first, a bit of a necessary digression.

Every film/book/play, etc. can be viewed from several perspectives. Typically, there is one character that we are meant to like and who becomes the primary focus of the story. Anyone who opposes that character is automatically an antagonist, if not a villain. Usually, even if the point of view is omniscient, we can still tell that it is not, perhaps, entirely objective in its portrayal of certain characters. This sort of situation happens all the time on the evening news--the interviewer is, in theory, supposed to be a neutral reporter on an incident, but it is often obvious that they favor one side of an issue over another, and as a result, the public's view of the situation and those involved is skewed. The lens through which we view a certain character tends to do the same thing. For instance, in Les Miserables (another favorite story of mine), Javert is viewed as an antagonist because the book is primarily concerned with the redemption story of Valjean; however, if the story was flipped and instead focused on the inspector's character and his transition from a strict legalist to a man so broken by the idea of morality that he commits suicide, he would, perhaps, be viewed instead as a tragic HERO instead of a tragic ANTAGONIST. Javert likely does many GOOD things in the name of the law as well during his career, but we don't see most of them because he isn't the main focus of the book. Similarly, I think Disney’s Hook can be more greatly appreciated as TRAGIC instead of COMICAL when we consider the lens through which we are viewing him.

Disney has always been geared toward children, so naturally, when they tell a story, they want the material to be attractive to a younger audience. This means not only that certain more frightening or upsetting elements of a story may be left out, edited, or altogether changed, but also that WE VIEW THE CHARACTERS THROUGH THE EYES OF A CHILD. (For example, in The Little Mermaid, King Triton's opposition to Ariel going to the surface world is presented in such a way that he seems extremely harsh when, in reality, he is father trying to keep his daughter safe. True, he DOES overreact, but remember, Ariel is only sixteen--not even LEGALLY an adult--and wants to run off with some guy she hasn’t even had a conversation with. But kids can relate to overbearing parents who, in a moment of disagreement, seem like they are being "mean," so that is how the audience sees Triton.) Peter Pan, especially, with its protagonist(s) as a child/children, really magnifies this perspective to the point where, unfortunately, some of the characters become almost caricatures of themselves. When children are legitimately afraid of something, they react one of two ways: Either they run from it/avoid it altogether, or they make-believe that whatever is frightening them is actually a lot less terrifying than it is so that they appear brave. I remember when I was younger, I used to be TERRIFIED of Monstro, the whale from Pinocchio. I couldn't watch the film without getting nightmares. But I didn't want to be afraid of watching the movie, so with my overactive imagination, I decided that I could fix that by turning him into a less scary version of himself and making him into an imaginary friend who more closely resembled Willy the anthropomorphic opera-singing whale from Make Mine Music than the terrifying creature we see in Pinocchio. Anyway, getting back to the point--I overcame my fear of the character by choosing to imagine that he was less scary than he was. This is what a lot of children do, and I think it's why Disney's Hook comes off as being comical.

The first time we see Disney Hook on screen, he actually comes across as pretty terrifying. He literally shoots his own crew member just because he didn't like the guy's singing! Rarely do we actually see Disney villains successfully kill another character on screen, but Hook does not even five minutes into his introduction. Immediately, we get the impression (or at least, a child should get the impression), that Hook is a genuinely dangerous guy. He also seems to regard his loss of a hand as "a childish prank," which further gives us the impression that he apparently has a pretty high pain tolerance and isn't afraid to do horrible, gruesome things to his enemies. If chopping someone's hand off is "childish," then what sort of serious damage does he inflict on his victims? However, this is Disney, and rather than having Hook gut someone or do something else which might scar a kid for life, we soon see he has a weakness...the crocodile. At this point, the Darling kids have been watching Hook for several minutes from their perch up on the cloud and are, probably, starting to have some second thoughts about fighting real pirates when they seem so scary...so what do they do? They do the same thing I did and turn him into a less-scary version of himself. They find his weakness and latch onto it. And since we're viewing things primarily from their perspective, that's how WE start to see Hook too. Hook's fear of the crocodile becomes comical for the audience because the Darling kids are trying to focus on that aspect of him so that they are can forget how terrifying he really is. We see this more frightening side of Hook come out a few more times, such as when he plans to blow up Pan's hideout...and at this point, we even catch a brief glimpse of the more sinister part of Smee when he asks Hook if it wouldn't be more humane for them to slit his throat...AND THIS IS SMEE WE'RE TALKING ABOUT HERE!!! The LEAST frightening of the pirates in ANY version. But I think Disney throws this in just to remind us that Smee is still a pirate, and if HE'S willing to do something THAT bad, Hook is a thousand times worse. However, for the most part, Hook still remains a rather softened, comical version of himself because we are viewing him through the child-lens. Remove that lens, though, and things become more complicated.

Forget, for a moment, that we are supposed to be rooting for the Darling children and Pan, and look again--not as a frightened child who is trying to laugh in the face of danger but as an adult who can feel Hook's pain. I remember one time when I was driving back from the airport in a busy city in the dark and the road was icy...I'm not used to driving in ice, and I'm a naturally nervous driver...At one point, I skidded into the next lane... I literally spent about the next hour hyperventilating, practically rocking myself back and forth, praying, and trying not to cry because I knew if I did I wouldn't be able to see the road. It was horrible... Take that sort of feeling, and I believe it's what Disney Hook is experiencing when the crocodile shows up. Through the "child-lens" it may be funny to see a frightening character in a vulnerable situation, but viewing it as an adult who understands just HOW helpless and terrified one feels in such a situation, you can't help but empathize with Hook. Every move he makes, every tremble in his voice, every look of absolute horror in his eyes tells you that he is not mentally or physically really functioning at the moment. He's on autopilot--he's in survival mode like a wild animal that freezes in hopes that it won't be seen by the approaching predator. Take away the crocodile's obviously silly "theme-music" and Hook's slightly overdone expressions, and you're left with something similar to what we see Hook experience in the novel near the end of the chapter, "The Pirate Ship." ("Very frightful was it to see the change that came over him. It was as if he had been clipped at every joint. He fell in a little heap...he crawled on his knees along the deck as far from the sound that he could go...'Hide me,' he cried hoarsely.") Now we can start appreciating him for the tragic villain that he is supposed to be.

Viewed through the eyes of the Darling children, Hook represents all that is frightening and bad about the grown-up world. If Peter is ice cream parties and summer vacations and catching fireflies in the dark, then Hook is cancer and broken dreams and being worried about being able to make enough money to put food on the table. Barrie, however, tells us that there is much more to both characters than that. Peter has a dark side--a selfish streak that forgets all pain at the cost of never learning from the past, never growing from his experiences and becoming a better person. He is stagnant not only in physically growing up but also in mentally facing reality, which is just as damaging as Hook's attitude of regretting a childhood apparently gone too soon. Hook, too, has a lighter side that loves soft music and flowers and other such things (representative of the good things about being an adult--falling in love, pursuing one's passions in a professional sense, having children of one's own). Disney, of course, doesn't quite do this to the same extent as Barrie since we're given a skewed view of the characters, but it DOES still make a few points which, when stripped of the "child-lens" effect, gives off a similar impression. Peter, for instance, brags to the mermaids at one point about cutting off Hook's hand and feeding it to the crocodile. Though we never get to hear him finish the tale, it is rather unsettling to think that Disney's Pan is capable of such horror. (Personally, no matter WHAT the circumstances of the situation were, I think any real-life child who took such great pleasure in slicing off a body part of another person and then having the presence of mind to feed said body part to a dangerous wild animal would probably be considered a psychopath in need of some SERIOUS counseling.) Disney, of course, glosses over this little inconvenience by having Hook show up before he can really get any further into the story. Again, the child-lens is going up; Wendy doesn't want to see this side of Peter, and neither does the child-based audience, so they choose to look away. However, we see a brief glimpse of this side of Pan again at Skull Rock. First, we see it resurface when he hands Smee a gun and then flies up directly in front of Hook--knowing that he can move out of the way in time. Again, through the child-lens of the audience, it seems funny to watch Smee doing his best (and failing terribly) to aim at Pan...but when you think about it from an adult's perspective, it's actually pretty disturbing. Peter legitimately wants Hook dead and doesn't care if it happens to be at the hand of one of his own crewmen (and arguably, in the Disney universe, Hook's only real friend). When Hook "dies," Peter simply takes the hat and says nonchalantly, "What a pity, Mr. Smee. I'm afraid we've lost the dear captain." It doesn't even phase him that a man might have just died and poor Smee is probably feeling absolutely HORRIBLE because it was (sort of) his fault. Even Wendy's child-lens falters a little here... While Peter is celebrating Hook's death, she at least, has enough of an adult's heart to have compassion on their fallen enemy and turn her face away with an, "Oh, how dreadful!" It happens again a few moments later when Peter is getting ready to kick Hook's hook off the ledge so that he falls into the waiting jaws of the crocodile. (The captain, at this point, is of course, squirming like--to use Peter's phrasing--"a codfish on a hook.") Again, Pan has no sympathy, but Wendy, who is starting to gradually open up her eyes to the truth that maybe staying a child forever isn't all it's cracked up to be and maybe adulthood isn't entirely bad, is losing her "child-lens." Not entirely. Not to the point where she doesn't continue to view Hook as comical to keep from being afraid. But enough to know that what Peter is about to do is wrong. She expresses this verbally when she shouts, "Oh, Peter, NO!"

It is at this point, shortly after the crocodile chase, that we start to see Hook become more of a legitimate threat (and a legitimately sympathetic character) again. Why? Because Wendy, as the protagonist and the one whose eyes we are looking through even more so than Pan, is starting to grow up and face reality for what it is--scary or not. As she sings "Your Mother and Mine" and tells her brothers that they NEED a mother--that Neverland has been fun but they NEED to go home--Hook is throwing Tinkerbelle in a lantern and planning to kidnap the kids and blow Pan to smithereens. And then we get the "slit his throat" reminder (mentioned above)... Also, as a side note, when Hook is ill after the crocodile chase, we hear him lamenting how Pan has made him look like a fool yet again. This is also something that I think we can appreciate more as adults. All Hook's crew wants is to go back to haunting the Spanish Main, but Hook refuses to leave Neverland because he feels that he has to remain there until he can regain his pride...which in and of itself is admirable, since many people who have been played the fool simply hang their head and walk away in shame. Here's this guy who has been bested by a child no more than twelve or thirteen--and possibly much younger... How must that feel? I have been in an emotionally abusive relationship where I was constantly reminded how I couldn’t do anything right, and it felt SO degrading. I literally just wanted to go hide away in my room and cry because I felt so incompetent and useless and just plain stupid. So how does Hook feel? Probably the same way. But he doesn't give up. If there's one thing we can say for sure about Disney Hook, he's a fighter. So, I guess you could say that, in part, one reason I find Disney Hook so sympathetic and tragic is because I can identify with him in his crippling reaction to fear and admire him for his bold attempts to reclaim his pride.

Anyway, getting back on track with the storyline... As we near the end of the film, Hook once again appears to lose face at the final showdown. At first, this doesn't seem to make sense if Wendy is, in fact, beginning to lose the child-lens. However, although Hook is defeated, we are never actually shown that he dies (and obviously, from the second film, in the Disney universe, he doesn't). I remember reading somewhere that when they were originally working on Peter Pan, Walt Disney chose to keep Hook alive and just have him "going like hell" rather than actually dying because, "the audience will get to liking Hook." And by this point, we have...those of us still looking through the child-lens love to hate him as a character we can laugh at, and those of us who are more grown-up love him for being just like us--an adult who is STILL growing up, in some ways, who is STILL afraid of certain things and hasn't always learned his lessons and isn't perfect but also isn't willing to give up even when everything is against him and everyone is laughing at him and nothing seems to go right.

Now, I said that at first, it doesn't seem to make sense for us to view Hook in a comical light in this scene if we are viewing the movie primarily through the eyes of the Darling children--particularly Wendy, who is starting to grow up and realize that adults are supposed to feel things like compassion for one's enemies. However, Wendy is still a child. She IS still afraid of growing up. In fact, she's terrified. And that comes out when the kids are all mocking Hook. He's still frightening to them. They still need the security blanket of pretend sometimes, of focusing on his more comical, vulnerable side...but they don't defeat Hook by killing him in this version, and I think that's significant. As representative primarily of the "scary" parts of growing up, Hook is temporarily cast aside and shoved to the back of their minds, but he IS NOT DEAD. The kids (and even Pan) know he may come back. They know he isn't gone for good. One day, they will have to face adulthood. One day, Hook--in the guise of mortgages and taxes and wars and sickly older parents--will return. But for now, they have defeated him...not just by pretending but by choosing to accept the responsibility of growing up eventually, in their own good time. Even Peter starts to reflect this theme by beating Hook, "man to man" without the use of flight. Wendy, who wants to be the good grown-up but who isn't quite ready to let go of childhood, warns Peter against it, thinking that it may be a trap. She even goes so far as to shout at him to fly when he has the chance even though he has promised not to. But Disney Pan is a bit more mature than some (maybe Wendy's better judgment is wearing off on him), and he keeps his word. He beats Hook "like a man" NOT like a boy. Pan's victory here symbolically reflects the Darling children's decision to face adulthood by going back to London. Thus, Hook is defeated because adulthood is no longer an obstacle which causes a fear is so crippling that the kids can't face it. When Wendy returns home, we get one last glimpse of this truth in Mr. Darling--the real-world representative of all things frightening and frustrating about growing up and, as I'm sure you know, also (significantly) voiced by Conried--who has done some "growing up" himself. Mr. Darling, it seems, is willing to allow Wendy a bit more time to enjoy life as a child, remembering his own childhood fondly, even as Wendy has chosen to accept the responsibility of growing up. Mr. Darling, who much like Hook, was viewed previously by the kids (and by extension, the audience) as a bit of a bully and an object of ridicule, is now the object of Wendy's affection as a mutual understanding is reached. Adulthood is frightening in many ways, but Wendy has also come to realize that it is necessary to take responsibility for one's actions and feel compassion for others just as Mr. Darling has realized that sometimes, it's okay for kids to be kids and enjoy the moment. Essentially, what I'm saying is--borrowing the idea that Hook and Mr. Darling are two sides of the same coin--Hook in Neverland, chased away by the crocodile, appears as comical in the last scene only because he effectively gets one last serious scene through his London counterpart, staring wistfully out the window with a loving wife and child by his side. Wendy isn't quite yet grown up, so she still sees through the child-lens on occasion, but she is learning, gradually, to embrace that which she once feared. She no longer needs Hook, an imaginary figure, to personify that fear. She now has her father back, and though she now RESPECTS what he stands for, she is no longer so terrified of growing up that she can't appreciate the GOOD side of the future (such as having a husband and a family of her own someday) and look forward to it.

[9worldstales]

INTERESTING POINTS TO PONDER FROM INTERVIEWS 1

Interviews might not remain forever available or not be easy to find so I’ve decided to link them and transcribe the points I find of some interest so as to preserve them should the interview had to end up removed.

It’s not complete transcriptions, just the bits I think can be relevant but I wholeheartedly recommend reading the whole thing.

And of course I also comment all this because God forbid I’ll keep silent... :P

Title: Tom Hiddleston On Set Interview THOR; Talks About Playing Loki, How He Got Cast, and a Lot More

Author: Steve Weintraub

Published: Dec 10, 2010

BEST BITS FROM THE INTERVIEW

ON LOKI

So could you talk about in the film how it’s being played?

Hiddleston: Yeah. Well we’re starting at the beginning; I think it’s safe to say. I start in the film as Thor’s younger brother and I think in the manner of all younger brothers I have a greater sense of freedom. I’m not the oldest therefore the parental expectations aren’t as heavy, so it’s like a lot of younger children in sibling groups; I think Loki has a bit more freedom. He’s not going to be King. He knows that. And so he’s freer to…he has less responsibility on his shoulders so he’s freer to have a bit more fun. And I think like everybody at Marvel has been very clear and brilliant about coming into this that Loki just has…they’re both enormously gifted. Thor and Loki are a 2-man team and they’re both going to run Asgard when Oden steps down, and Thor has an ability and a physicality and a presence—a physical presence that is…he’s the type of man you follow. You just do. In the same way they used to talk about all the leaders and the captains and the generals that came out of both World Wars that those captains and generals weren’t necessarily elected just in battles. There were certain men who were followed. You know, leaders were born and Thor is that guy. And Loki’s gifts are different in that he is sharper, he’s cleverer, he’s more interested in tactics and strategy. He’s capable of thinking ahead and he enjoys chaos. So he enjoys reacting to chaos and that affects how given that he’s the God of mischief. Mischief is essentially chaos. He likes stoking the fire of chaos and seeing what happens as a result. And so I think that’s where we start in that he’s just physically not as strong, but he has…he’s quicker and sharper and I guess that’s fair to say…

PUBLICIST I’m listening, don’t worry.

Hiddleston: Yeah, quicker, sharper, more playful and then I think over the course of the story and I can’t say the full story, but there is a kind of….a couple of major shocks about Loki and his history and who he is and why he is come to him. He’s made aware of for the very first time in the films. There are certain things that fans of the comics will already know, but hopefully you see Loki learn certain things about himself for the first time. So it’s a journey of self-awareness. He doesn’t, at the beginning of the film, know his own power and I think through the course of the film he comes to learn his true nature and the extent of his power. But with a propensity for mischief I think as soon as he knows how powerful it is that’s when it becomes dangerous.

We got to play with some of those fantastic weapons, how have you learned to wield them?

Hiddleston: It’s been fascinating actually. And one of the first things I did when I came on board was that we started with stunt training.  And we thought like what is…it’ll be boring if Thor was a tank. It’d be boring if Loki was another tank and they were just running into each other. So we thought if Thor is thunder and power and muscle and brawn and he’s got his hammer, Loki should be like…he should be so quick he’s like the wind. So if Thor is heavy, Loki is light. We thought what would be the weapon that Loki would be fighting with? So we thought throwing knives….because I think Loki doesn’t like to get his hands dirty in a fight. He likes to be quick, efficient and lethal. It’s like one blow—slam. So we thought it would be throwing knives. And I thought if there was a way…if Loki could fight in a way that was as impressive as Thor’s, but was completely different so in a way Loki is too quick and Thor can’t catch him, you know? I kind of conceived of Loki as a kind martial artist with these throwing knives. Someone who’s like a dancer. He dances his way out of combat and these knives are his way of keeping his foes at arm's length but it’s lethal. When you get one of those knives in, you’re gone. I had a great time actually, we were shooting on another set shooting a bit battle sequence. And the set was made of this stuff. It looked hard but it was soft. It was foam. And my stunt knives were rubber so they didn’t like take out the grip or the camera operator. But we found like…I’d always throw them and Russell Bobbit, the props master, would always go and retrieve them for me for the next take. And he couldn’t find one of the daggers and we were like looking all over the set for this dagger. And I’m like where the hell did it go? And like about half an hour later we’d thought we lost it somewhere in the green screen. And he said, Tom, and he pointed up and this rubber knife was stuck clean into the set, so I knew I was throwing them with some kind of velocity.

Does it affect your thoughts at all that maybe you could do this performance a 2nd, 3rd, 4th time? Did you bring any bread crumbs or anything like that?

Hiddleston: Yeah, I feel that way certainly. I haven’t started…I can tell you this for free. I don’t start the film with him like immediately gone to the dark side. I think it’s good to see that Loki is genuinely Thor’s brother and there is a complicated relationship there. So that it isn’t just like…he isn’t just an out and out villain. He isn’t all black. He isn’t someone who the audience can immediately say “he’s the bad guy” because I think it’s more interesting if… because no character in real life or in comic books or any play or film or anything, nobody thinks they’re a villain.  You always think there’s a complete logic to what you’re doing and you know what’s best and you know what’s right. And I think it’s really interesting to see Loki’s actions from his perspective and he’s just someone who becomes more and more damaged by, I think, a sense of isolation from his family and a sense of…it’s kind of a deep loneliness. I think when the world makes you feel rejected, you bite back. And I think over the course of the film that’s what you see in Loki. He feels continually cast out by different sets of people and his brother particularly and at a certain point he’s pushed too far and he comes back with a vengeance.

A lot of the actors have been talking about working with Ken, Shakespeare is definitely a touch stone, is that something that’s come up working with Ken? Of any characters you’re sort of…

Hiddleston: I’ve talked to him very much about subtlety because I don’t want to do any eyebrow twitching or moustache twiddling. I don’t want to do sort of like a caricatured villain. I’ve tried very much to make Loki psychologically plausible. Someone who’s damaged and very, very intelligent and is able to sow the seeds of deceit. Like he’s the Oscar winning liar, you know? He’d stand up there and you buy it. You’d buy anything from him. He’s the perfect salesman. Because my background is Shakespeare as well, I’ve done a lot of Shakespeare in London and Iago is kind of a touch stone for me. Edmund in King Lear, if you know that story. But I draw my inspiration from all over the place. I’ve been listening to lots of the Prodigy. Like there was an album they released in the ‘90’s called Music for the Jilted Generation, which has a real rage in it. It has a real kind of like don’t piss me off because I’ll bark at you. And I find myself listening to that sometimes. And there are some great performances. Ken talked a lot about some of Peter O’Toole’s greatest performances and how in “Lawrence of Arabia” or “The Lion in Winter” he is on the edge of darkness. He’s on the edge of sanity. You can see it in his eyes that he’s been pushed to the brink and you’re not sure if you can trust him because there’s a madness in there, you know? A greatness, too and a charisma and a power that you want to get close to and you want to see inside, but it’s a little bit dangerous. And so I’ve been trying to kind of… I drive to work every morning and I try and light some kind of bonfire under myself which is adrenalized and hot and alone. It’s a strange feeling when you’re playing a character that feels so alone.

Are there certain like iconic gestures or poses from the comic book that you’re trying to use, because when I think of Loki I always think of him kind of slouched in the throne and kind of brooding.

Hiddleston: Yeah, that’s definitely like…I recall that Ken talks about the racing mind. He said I want to see…he said every time I put the camera on your face, I want to see your brain going at the speed of light. But I don’t want anyone else in the scene to see it. So this is a very private thing of like someone who’s just thinking 10 steps ahead of the game every time, but not making it so obvious that it’d be like guys, somebody look at Loki because he’s cooking up something. Bad ass, you know? But I do feel like he’s a sort of person who never sleeps. His brain never stops working. And he’s always cooking up something. You’re never quite sure if you can trust him and….what was the question again?

Well, like were there certain…

Hiddleston: Yeah, facial expressions. Certainly there’s this fantastic shot of me on the throne where it’s like straight out of that sort of iconic image where he’s got the staff and he’s slouching in it. He’s like, got a problem with that? You know? But yeah, I guess as an actor I start from the inside out. Like the costume is enormously helpful but I always think like what makes him tick? What is human about this character? I don’t want to play a cipher. I look at someone who is damaged, broken, alone, isolated from his family, doesn’t feel like he belongs, someone who’s been lost, abandoned. And there are physiological tropes for those things, you know? And you see the lost and damaged and abandoned children of our world. It’s no accident that they grow up to be… to fill our prisons, you know? And that’s kind of who Loki is. He’s just really clever, you know? So he’s good at hiding his own intents I think. So I think the process of living through those emotions or feeling so angry with people because they don’t trust him. And feeling angry with Thor because he gets everything. He’s the favourite son. I think just the process of living inside that anger, that rage, that hurt every day creates an intensity on my face which I’m not aware of. So it’s not like I’m creating expressions but absolutely there’s a kind of a raw intensity that Ken said from the word go he said I want to see you every day with a layer of skin peeled away. I want to see that ticker tape machine inside your head like working at 1,000 miles per minute. Yeah, it’s great man!

MY TWO CENTS

I love to read Tom Hiddleston’s interviews because they’re always filled with extra information, which are often based on bits that didn’t make into the final cut but are still part of the canon or give an insight on the characters’ minds.

Like how he says ‘Thor and Loki are a 2-man team and they’re both going to run Asgard when Odin steps down’ because in the old script it was implied that, although Thor would be king, Loki would be his right hand man, giving him consueling.

On the differences between Thor and Loki’s fighting styles and how Loki is still dangerous. People might not get it from the movie, assuming Thor is the one with the fighting ability but here it turns out Loki too has his strenght, although it lays in different things, like speed.

Or how he remarks about Loki’s loneliness and sense of isolation, who feels rejected and that’s why he bites back, someone who’s really smart.

It’s all things that I love to hear about a character and that show a good care in creating him.

Of course through the interview he also say things that are more technical, related to how he got hired or how he found difficult to wear Loki's horns and so on and this too is very intriguing but what always win me are informations about the characters, their mind, their world. And he always share some of them in all his interviews.

[ducktracy]

181. the case of the stuttering pig (1937)

disclaimer: this review contains antisemitic content, stereotypes, and imagery. i in no way endorse any of this, but it’s just as important to bring awareness to these depictions rather than shove them under the rug. please, PLEASE let me know if i make any mistakes or say something offensive, i want to take responsibility for my actions and use this as an opportunity to educate myself. any outside commentary is more than welcome. thank you for your patience and understanding.

release date: october 30th, 1937

series: looney tunes

director: frank tashlin

starring: mel blanc (porky, the guy in the third row), billy bletcher (lawyer goodwill), sara berner (petunia)

just in time for the halloween season, we explore one of tashlin’s best directorial efforts to date. the case of the stuttering pig (its title derived from the case of the stuttering bishop, a warner bros. film released only 4 months prior) is the first of many warner bros. cartoons to take a jab at the ever popular dr. jekyll and mr. hyde. here, porky and his family (4 brothers and petunia, who serves as his sister rather than a love interest) are terrorized by the nefarious lawyer goodwill, the family lawyer who turns himself into a mr. hyde facsimile, hoping to kill the family in order to snag some inheritance money.

frank tashlin’s cinematography is in peak form as the cartoon opens to a ghastly exposition--william tell’s “the storm” rages alongside a furious storm. intricate camera angles include an upshot on a giant old house, trees whipping in the wind against the flashing lightning, and a close up of the window shudders snapping against the exterior. the snaps of the window shudders soon melt into the droning tick of a clock inside, an upshot exposing dynamic, drawn out shadows against the walls. tashlin handles the contrast between values exceptionally well. backgrounds are crisp, clear, and pronounced.

cue a vertical pan of porky’s siblings (patrick, peter, percy, portus, and petunia) all lined up against the wall in a row of chairs. each appear apprehensive, obviously on edge. not porky, though. porky’s at the very end of the row, looking on with a hilariously blank smile plastered on his face. 

suddenly, a knock at the door interrupts the silence. cue the famous tashlin jump cut: we only see volney white’s animation of porky jumping out of his seat, but the next shot reveals all of the siblings hanging from a chandelier, with porky trepidatiously inquiring “who-who-who-who-who-who’s theh-the-the-the-the-there...?” you can still feel mel’s attempts to distinguish his own unique porky stutter from the authentic stutter provided by joe dougherty--this delivery is more dougherty-esque than some of his others. 

billy bletcher’s syrupy sweet vocals ring out from behind the door, the disembodied voice introducing himself as lawyer goodwill. the decision not to showcase who’s behind the door is a smart one. suspense is absolutely rife all throughout the cartoon, and the beginning is no exception. with a peppy “okey deh-eh-eh-deh-do... oh-oh-okey deh-deh... okay!”, porky is followed by his siblings as he happily allows this mysterious lawyer goodwill inside. the suddenly calm, almost wholesome atmosphere inside, reassured by the self-proclaimed friendly presence of lawyer goodwill is disrupted as soon as the door opens, wind howling and blowing the entire family down the hallway as goodwill fights his way inside, his face (and head, for that matter) completely concealed by his hat and collar. tashlin plays on this as goodwill removes his hat, a mere nub placed where his neck should be as a waterfall of rain pours out from the hat. nevertheless, goodwill reveals himself, a portly yet good-natured looking fellow as he tells the children it’s time to attend to “business”.

lawyer goodwill gathers the kids around to discuss the matter of their late uncle solomon (a pig caricature of oliver hardy, just one of a handful) and his will. the animation is slightly blurred and jittery from the double exposure effects of the shadows--animation historian mark kausler has this to say (transcribed from his excellent commentary that i’m partially parroting):

“they used to hand crank the cameras here. this was before electric drive animation cameras--that’s why the shadows are so flickery, because they had to back the film up and then re-expose it to get the transparency of the shadow.”

uncle solomon’s will states that his heirs will inherit his money. however, if something were to happen to them, then lawyer goodwill gets the cash instead. goodwill exits the house, reassuring that nothing will happen to the kids... “...i hope!”

there’s a gorgeous, moody upshot of the porch as goodwill lumbers down the steps. volney white is at the hand of this scene, easy to spot thanks to his telltale speed: goodwill practically glides across the screen as he heads towards offscreen, only to whip back and put a hand over his hear, nefariously straining to hear if he’s being followed. volney’s pose and expression are as strong as ever--i made a reel of his animation awhile ago if you’d like to check it out!

bob bentley takes over to animate goodwill’s transformation into the monster--his animation is very meticulous and well crafted. a good way to spot him is to see if characters have thicker eyebrows in some scenes than others. goodwill swaps clothes in favor of a hat and cape almost effortlessly, gliding across the screen like butter. the flow isn’t interrupted, not even by the overlay of tables decorated with test tubes, skulls, etc. 

all of goodwill’s potential queries on how to transform into a hideous beast are answered with a bottle of “jekyll and hide juice” (starting at only $9.99! call now and get another FREE at no cost to you! it’s a steal, folks!)  nestled conveniently on his shelf of various poisons. he pours the concoction into a cocktail, acting like a regular bartender as he shows off by pouring the mixture from glass to glass. tashlin’s timing, both behaviorally and comically, are succinct as goodwill finally downs the mixture. he grips the table, taking heaving breaths, staring at the audience, until... nothing. he heaves a dubious shrug. 

instead, goodwill opts to use a milkshake mixer (a relatively new invention whose novelty value would have scored much bigger laughs then than it does today, but still remains amusing at the very least) to mix his concoction, downing it once more.

bob bentley’s animation of the monster is nothing short of gorgeous. well defined, well crafted, and dimensional. however, it does encapsulate antisemitic stereotypes and caricatures, from the big nose to clawed hands and pointy ears, as well as the desire for money. as skillful as the animation is, and as solid as the cartoon is, these are problems that still need to be addressed. understand that when i’m praising the animation, i’m focusing on the techniques themselves and the technicalities behind it, not the content that’s being animated itself. (thank you anon for taking the time to educate me! it’s much appreciated.) 

billy bletcher snarls in his trademark deep voice, even quipping “you wouldn’t think i was lawyer goodwill now, would you?” he talks directly to the audience, getting right close in their face, jabbing his spindly finger and bulbous nose. he even goes as far as to berate his public by screeching “you bunch of softies! YEAH, YOU IN THE THIRD ROW! ya BIG SOFTIE!” the fourth wall breaking is nothing short of genius. just IMAGINE seeing this in a dark, packed movie theater! the effect would be phenomenal! (especially if you were the guy in the third row! i’m sure all of the third-row-sitting patrons felt quite satisfied at these showings.) the monster vows to dispose of the family, sneering at our inability to help save our heroes.

said heroes are contentedly socializing in the living room, peppy porky talking about how safe and sound they are in their own little house. so, of course, that serves as the cue for a gnarly hand to grab the light switch and kill the lights. i love the detail of the shadow creeping along the wall before you even see the hand itself--little decisions like that go such a long way.

the lights go out, and all we hear is the pluck of an electric slide guitar. the lights come on, and one of porky’s alliteratively named siblings is gone, with an x cleverly marked in his place. the ritual occurs four times, with porky remarking each of the names of his fallen siblings (”peh-peh-patrick!” “eh-peh-peh-peh-eh-peter!” “eh-peh-peh-eh-peh-percy!” “puh-portus!”). the lights go out once more, and x’s mark where porky and petunia were just sitting prior. definitely an artsy and interesting way to convey the kidnappings--even more so when we see porky and petunia trepidatiously popping their heads out from behind the armchair after the camera trucks in on their deserted spot.

volney white animates the close up of petunia clutching to porky, stuttering (from fear, that is) “g-g-gee, p-p-porky, i’m scared!” her voice here is provided by sara berner as opposed to berneice hansell, who voiced her in her last appearance in porky’s romance. ironically, hansell would take over for petunia again after bob clampett adopted (and subsequently redesigned) her character. you can hear the evolution of her voice here. 

porky reassures her that they’ll find the brothers as we cue a clever pan from inside to outside the house, spotlighting the basement. the backgrounds are so gorgeous and moody! we find the pigs tied up in stocks, with the monster sneering about how he’ll do away with all the pigs once he nabs porky and petunia. once more, our ever-aware villain resorts to heckling the poor sap in the third row: “and if that guy in the third row comes up, I’LL FIX HIM TOO! you big CREAMPUFF!” again--this is exceedingly entertaining to watch 83 years later on a laptop screen, but imagine what a riot this would be in theaters! frank tashlin understood that the audience was paying to watch his cartoons, and he knew how to make it worth their time. the cartoons catered to the audience rather than the studio executives always make for the best ones--tex avery was especially keen of this, as we’ll soon explore.

back to porky and petunia, both cautiously traipsing down the hallway as porky calls the names of his fallen brothers, both straining to hear any signs of life. while the poses aren’t nearly pushed to the same extremes as they would be in tashlin’s second directorial stint from 1943-1946, they’re still quite nice and accentuated just enough. certainly stronger than the poses present in the other directors’ cartoons. seeing as tashlin was a newspaper cartoonist, his illustrative, comic look translates well into his own cartoons. it’s almost as if his comic art has leapt right off the page, but also meshes well enough with the animation to have a good sense of motion to it. it’s the best of both worlds.

while porky is unaware, petunia is yanked off screen by a hand protruding from a trick wall panel. suddenly, the villain himself tinkers behind porky, mimicking his movements. porky even manages to grab a hold of his gangly hand, assuming it’s petunia, going so far as to look him straight in the eyes and shush him. the volney white animated villain looks strikingly different than that of bob bentley’s--volney’s is exceedingly more streamlined and design driven, especially around the eyes. he’s not nearly as hairy, grotesque, or dimensional. not that that’s a bad thing! in fact, i love when animators are able to make their styles so distinguishable from the other animators. not only is it fun, it makes identifying animation much easier.

when porky finally realizes that he’s being stalked by the monster, he does the signature volney white eye take and runs for the hills, er, stairs. tashlin’s speed dominates as porky scales flights of stairs at lightning speeds--it’s dizzying to even watch! eventually, porky jumps right into the arms of the monster, clinging to him (thinking it’s petunia) as he describes what he just saw: “i eh-seh-saw the most teh-teh-teh-eh--awful leh-leh-lookin’ man, all beh-beh-big and beh-beh-eh-bleh-black... beh-beh-BIG teeth...” all the while, porky is grabbing onto the villain’s nose and clinging to him like a baby. the animation is positively hilarious, especially when porky recognizes who he’s being cradled by, actually connecting nose to snout as he lets out a scream and barrels down the staircase once more, the same footage from before just in reverse. a wonderful scene with great dialogue and hilarious animation. bob clampett would borrow this in his own jeepers creepers just two years later, with a ghost in place of the monster.

porky locks himself in the basement, discovering his siblings tied up in stocks (”leh-leh-land sakes alive!”), his attempts to free them interrupted by the sound of the villain knocking the door down. interestingly enough, after we pan to the monster infiltrating the premises, the next shot is the entire family huddled in a corner, indicating that porky did manage to free them after all. the technique is reminiscent of the cartoon’s beginning, where we see only porky jump out of his seat before showing all of the siblings hiding in the chandelier. 

just as it looks like the pig family is bacon, a random chair from offscreen is lobbed at the monster, sending him tumbling right into the stocks. the family is just as perplexed as the viewer, asking in unison “who DID that?”

“ME!” mel blanc’s gruff, more natural voice rings out from behind the screen. the locked up monster ogles at the audience, pointing a gangly finger as he snarls “who are YOU?” mel’s tough guy new yoik accent snarls back “I’M DA GUY IN DA THOID ROW, YA BIG SOURPUSS!” iris out on a deflated, dejected villain--just IMAGINE witnessing this in real time in the theaters! 

this cartoon is one of the reasons why frank tashlin is one of my favorite directors of all time. it’s got all of the tashlin essentiasl. the effects animation by A.C. gamer at the beginning is lovely, doing a wonderful job of establishing such an eerie mood. the raging, wild storm juxtaposes perfectly with the unsettlingly still atmosphere inside the house. lawyer goodwill makes an excellent villain, topped off with billy bletcher’s vocals and bob bentley’s skilled animation. the constant fourth wall breaking with him... need i say more? it’s such a great way to involve the audience with the picture and really suck in their attention, especially that ending. the animation is excellent, the backgrounds are gorgeous, it’s absolutely rife with atmosphere. this is tashlin’s best effort thus far and one of his best efforts overall.

however, the antisemitic stereotypes and caricatures should be accounted for. while i do say you should watch this one to get an idea of frank tashlin’s mastery as a director, tread with caution and discretion. i absolutely don’t endorse these concepts. so, if you do want to watch it, you can go to HBOmax or click this link, just be advised.

[angieschiffahoi]

congrats on finishing? lol. personally still on depressionville over them. rebecca? deserved to live and be a lawyer(?). hannah? deserved to lived. in france with owen helping with a batter place and rolling her eyes at the name. dani? i cant even. dani and jamie lol i can't even. peter deserves to go somewhere worse than hell. so yea, what're ur thoughts?

I am broken. I honestly haven’t stopped thinking about it all since I finished it last night. 

“Dani would never”. HOW DARE YOU.  I didn’t even have nightmares with ghosts! I was just really, really sad. I feel like, in the end, this was a happy ending. Just not for everyone, and that’s the strenght of the Haunting series. Not everyone can live happily ever after, but they contribute to the other’s happily ever after. No death is cheap or played for shock, even though they are shocking and are revealed through twists. The journey to one’s death is the character’s and, even if it does serve the plot and functions a self-sacrificing catalyst to set the happy endings of the other characters in motion, it never serves just to further the story of a single other character and it’s never just for shock value. Death, even when violent, sudden, unburied, is always respectful and somewhat “sacred”. 

At first I thought it was weaker than Hill House, because I felt the Crains’ dynamic was compelling and kind of made the narrative (in the first five episodes, it litterally did). Then I realized that while this started as a “strangers happen to live together in a haunted house” it soon turned into a found family story and it was beautiful.

I still think The Bent Neck Lady twist, even though predictable, was executed in such a beautiful way, and that episode remains the most emotional, tied with Two Storms, which remains my favorite of the series. But DAMN. The Altar of the Dead was so, so good! I knew Hannah was going to be my favorite from the moment she showed up and I had a feeling there was something wrong with her (the fact that she could dream up new clothes was clever, because I was checking those from the start to see if she was a ghost), but how it all tied with the beginning of the story? Wow.

I’m not sure I liked the twist at the end, using completely different actors, but I did love Carla slipping into a bit of cockney while she’s talking to Bride!Flora, as if to try and test if she was going to remember. The kids deserved that ending, honestly, and it’s coherent with what we’ve seen on Hill House (those kids left their demons in the mansion and so they were haunted forever, these kids were able to destroy them and live happily ever after), but I kind of wished they’d remember something. 

Rebecca Jessel coming through in the end was beautiful How she understood Peter was asking too much of the children. How she was willing to live through drowning again for Flora. I wish she had bonded more with Dani, over their love for the children. Also the scene by the lake, with Rebecca’s body, her ghost, Flora and Hannah watching had me sobbing. As for Peter, I hope he’s still in that memory with his mom. He was probably abused as a child and that is terrible, but he killed two people out of selfishness and was willing to kill three more, to have his happily ever after. He was controlling, abusive and manipulative and I wished the show had tried to make him a bit more relatable, to show us his anguish better (Oliver did an amazing job, though), so that by the end I would be torn between him getting peace or justice. But they didn’t and he should burn. 

Anyway, I could talk about this all day. Overall, I loved it. In a world where it came before Hill House, I feel like I would’ve loved it more (even though I’m not sure I would’ve loved Dani as much, hadn’t she played Nell Crain in HH). The ghosts weren’t as scary, and I missed some of that suspance (even though I am glad I will be able to maybe sleep this time); they explained a little bit too much, while HH left some things to the viewer to figure out, and some of the twists were very predictable; the nods to HH were placed well, but I wish they stopped referencing it after the first two or three episodes - it seems to live in reference to the success of its precedessor in a way (also in the way they use the soundtrack); the ending was bittersweet (like HH’s) but borderline cheesy, which kind of killed the vibe a bit (I love romance, especially wlw romance, but it has to be subtle, and the “it’s not a ghost story, it’s a love story” felt a bit too... yeah, cheesy. But that’s just my preference). 

Small structure-complaints under the cut:

I only have two complaints:

- I feel like they wasted an entire episode on Viola, Perdita & Arthur, because all those explanations could’ve easily been shown in another way and the scenes spoke for themselves. Later I started to think the narration had been necessary, because when Dani became the lady in the lake, older Jamie would start reciting “and then she slept, she woke, she walked, she forgot, she faded away”. But there was no parallel and so, I feel, like that story could’ve been told without voiceovers, leaving something to the imagination, and in flashbacks during the finale, making it a two part. I felt a bit cheated into binging the last two episodes, because of that same cliffhanger. I actually wanted to give it more time and watch it today. I also did NOT like the B&W. It was probably shot in color and then colored in post and the coloring was terrible. It felt like a pre-made filter in Premiere. I think the could’ve easily used the HH flashback coloring, which is colorful, warm, bright and eerie. I loved Kate as Theo, but in this one she did nothing for me. Viola felt like a caricature and, in the end, I never ‘felt’ for her.  

- I didn’t completely feel the epicness of Jamie & Dani. While I feel they were a beautiful, beautiful couple and very refreshing to see on TV, I didn’t actually feel them love each other until Jamie dove into the lake. But maybe that’s just me. I was so focused on all the storylines, I might’ve missed something about them. In some ways, they developed Hannah & Owen more, even though we never saw them together (and maybe that’s why Owen caring for Hannah’s body and how she disappeard so suddenly without even finishing ‘the rest is just...’ hit worse than the second part of the finale). 

There’s also I couple of things I didn’t understand (why did Viola never hurt Dominic & Charlotte? They must’ve walked at night! And they were sleeping in the bed she went to! How did Henry’s doppleganger work? Why was he haunted so vividly by himself? This ‘ghost’ felt a lot like Eddie’s - born of guilt - but at least there was a dead person in the Dani/Edmund haunting dynamic; was he haunted by evil!Henry because Dominic wished it so before he died?; also, why is no one freaking out about the inevitable incest of Peter/Rebecca in the kids bodies?! I love you Becks, but yikes!). 

I need to rewatch both Hill House and Bly Manor. I wish I had done a PhD in cinema, just so I could do a dissertation on these two, honestly. 

[tetrakys]

Obey Me: first impressions

So... I’ve finally played the intro to Obey Me, honestly... I’m not sure if I’m going to keep playing. I know that everyone is super-hyped about this game and it feels like I’m the only one not into it, and... I don’t know... I’m trying to figure out why I don’t like it 🤔

I think the main problem is that I can’t take it seriously? I know it’s not a deep and serious game, but it feels extremely shallow. And part of it may be that I only played the intro and the cool stuff will come later, the lore, the moral dilemmas, the angst... Maybe?

But other than this, it’s the whole premise I can’t get behind. And now I will probably get hate from everyone but, I don’t know, the game feels pretty disrespectful? While the concept of demons exist in most cultures and religions, the game is playing specifically on Jewish and Christian lore (on the definition of the Seven Princes of Hell given by Peter Binsfeld if we want to be specific) and completely trivialising it. Whether one is religious or not, everyone always talk about cultural appropriation, and this doesn’t feel much far away from it honestly. 

But, okay, you Japanese company want to make an otome game using religious concepts from other cultures, why don’t you do it properly? Like... this should’ve been a dark game, a game that would’ve touched serious themes like what it means to be human, sin, redemption... and instead the characters are just a childish caricature of a stereotype. This guy is the avatar of gluttony so he must be eating all the time... yeah... -_-

I’ve seen the drama about consent and, honestly, now I understand it.

On one side these guys are demons, right? What consent? They should use and abuse MC however they want. On the other, this is not how this game is advertised at all, this is just a game about cute guys who do dance battles and are called demons because it sounds cool, just to attract customers. 

The problem is not the players who are naif and don’t know what demons are, the problem is the company that should stick to one style and atmosphere. You either go the full monster fucker route, add violence, non-con, dub-con, life-threatening situations etc, or you stick to pretty guys who do dance battles, (preferably distancing from any religious/cultural reference). Or you can even find a middle ground, watch Good Omens and see if you get any ideas, and yes even Good Omens was a bit ridiculous at times, but it was also meaningful, this is what good writing is about.

I’m not sure what to do... should I give it another go? I feel like it’d only frustrate me, but I also don’t like to judge too soon, maybe the game is going to surprise me in the future and get deeper.

[spookbusters]

Daddy’s Little Ghoul

Summary: Ray takes your daughter to the station for take your child to work day!

Pairing: Ray Stantz x Reader // Word Count: 1.7k // Warnings: None!

A/N: Sorry this took forever to get out! Should be getting back to work on some of my other requests soon :)

"Daddy, daddy, wake up! Wake up!"

Note to Y/N Stantz from Y/N Stantz, just get rid of your alarm clock. Your daughter has got this handled.

A sleepy groan hums in the back of your husband’s throat as he stirs. Your little girl was apparently loud enough to register with him, but not loud enough to actually get him up. "Elodie, honey,” you murmur, fully awakened by your child’s excited tone, "It’s before seven, you should still be in bed." Your five-year-old bounces over to your side of the bed and throws herself into your lap, knocking a bit of the wind out of you. She looks up at you with smiling eyes like those of the man you love. Her hair was frizzy from sleep; distinctly inherited from you, you knew the color and texture all too well. "But, mommy, it’s take your child to work day, remember? I’m gonna go with daddy!" The sentence makes you smile as best you can in your sleepy haze. She took after her father in many ways, and had been looking forward to this for days. "Yes, sweetie, I remember. You know I have something special planned for you." Elodie wraps her small arms around you in a tight hug, "I didn’t forget, I promise." You give your daughter a squeeze, and kiss her forehead. "Go ahead and brush your teeth and get dressed, I’ll get your surprise ready." She lets out an excited squeal, then jumps off the bed and runs to her room on the other side of the apartment. A massive, exhausted huff leaves your lips before you collapse back down on your pillow. Ray is still snoring lightly beside you.

God, you wished you could sleep as heavily as him. You prop yourself on an elbow and admire him for just a moment before you have to get him up. He’s a mess. His face is smashed against the pillowcase, and his hair is stuck to his forehead. It’s adorable, and you remind yourself how blessed you are to have him. Ray only wakes up after a full minute of you peppering kisses all over his face, and once he hears you giggle at the way he wriggles his nose sleepily, he knows he can’t waste any more time snoozing. You're greeted by a gentle hand reaching up to smooth out your hair and, before you know it, you're being pulled down for a loving kiss. A small noise of contentment seeps from your being at the feel of your husband. When the need for air rears its head, you pull away and press your forehead against his. "Elodie woke me up this morning," is the first thing you tell him. "Did she?" "She's beyond excited to go to the firehouse with you. Speaking of which, you need to get up, mister." Ray groans, muttering something about how he hasn’t even left bed, but he already misses it. One sleepy stretch later you’re out of bed, brushing your teeth and throwing some curlers in your hair. You go about your morning routine, getting dressed in your usual outfit of jeans, sneakers, and a button-down from your husband’s drawer. The routine continues with you setting out Ray’s uniform, then going to whip up a quick breakfast. You pull off all those morning responsibilities with perfected efficiency, and you’re finally able to unveil the surprise you had planned for your daughter. “Ok, Ellie, you’re gonna have to close your eyes for this one,” Ray explains, knowing full well what you’ve got behind your back. She seems to vibrate from all the excitement she has to contain, covering her eyes with her hands. Once you think the suspense has gotten to her enough, you unfurl the outfit and hold it in front of you. “Alright, sweetie,” you say, “Open!” 

The moment she gets sight of the jumpsuit, just her size, she lets out something like a screech and jumps out of her chair to inspect it. “It’s got your name on it and everything,” you explain, pointing to the new patch you’d been embroidering the past couple days. It looked just like the ones you had made for the original suits. 

It doesn’t take much effort to get the suit on over her leggings, and when she zips it up the middle you marvel at how much she looks like her dad. “I love it, mommy,” she chimes, “Thank you!” The way she hugs you tightly makes all the time you spent working on it so worth it. “You’re so welcome, honey.” You take a second to look at the watch on your wrist and it’s not until then that you realize what the time is. “I gotta head to work,” you gasp, “I’ll be late for opening!” You grab your purse and the keys to the car, which you toss to your husband. “Lunch for you two is in the fridge, don’t forget it before you leave,” you mention, walking up to Ray and readjust his constantly unruly hair. “We won’t,” he assures. With a kiss for him and your daughter, you’re off to manage Ray’s Occult Books, like you do every day. “C’mon, daddy, we gotta go too,” Elodie urges, lightly tugging on her father’s sleeve. Ray grabs the lunch from the fridge, handing his daughter the Slimer lunchbox she insisted on having for school. Truth be told, he was just as excited for take your child to work day as his daughter! He loved the fact she was so interested in the business and, deep down, he hoped Elodie would take it over one day. The drive to the firehouse was as it would be every morning. Except instead of having some typical pop songs fueling the journey, the cabin of Ecto-1 was filled by Elodie and Ray’s singing.

They had brought her favorite cassette along; Ellie’s little voice would take the lead and her dad would fill in what she couldn’t yet remember. Whenever he did those deep, caricature-like voices, she would giggle loudly. They had to be the two happiest people on the streets of Manhattan. Elodie had just finished a rather lovely rendition of the Unbirthday Song when they pulled into the garage of the firehouse. It took some genuine effort to prevent the young Stantz from launching herself from her car booster seat and taking off into Ghostbuster HQ. But Ray was successful in getting her in without her forgetting anything or getting ahead of herself. At least he knew if the guys needed to take the car for a case, none of her important stuff would get left in there. But when she got inside, it was a totally different story. There was nearly no way he’d be able to manage that much enthusiasm. He was borderline overwhelmed by the sheer will and exhilaration of his five-year-old. As soon as the rest of the guys heard Janine’s playful comment of, “I didn’t know there was a new Ghostbuster on the team,” followed by a small laugh, they knew exactly who had just arrived. “Guess who,” Ray said, the biggest smile on his face as he walked into the lab, Elodie right behind him. “In case you couldn’t guess, it’s my dad and me,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Hey, it’s the Stantz clan,” Peter said, dropping the file he was reading onto the lab table with a genuine smile. Egon glances over his shoulder for a moment before returning his attention to the odd contraption that sat like a helmet on Winston, “You brought my niece with you. Rather unusual.” Elodie skipped around the room saying 'hi' to all her ‘unca’s, managing to tell all three of them separately that it was take your child to work day and that she was spending it with her dad. It wasn’t completely atypical for there to be a child in the firehouse, as Peter had Oscar over plenty of times. But Oscar took after his mother who tended to be rather quiet, unlike Elodie who took after both her parents’ extroversion. So, it was always a learning experience for both her and the team when there was a kid around who was actually interested in what they were doing. Ray couldn’t have been prouder of her. He could see throughout the day’s activities that she was having tons of fun, learning a lot, and really putting the smarts he knew she had to work. She would end up having a lot to tell you when she got home. Like, how Winston would explain to her how to clean a trap once a ghost was caught in it. “This is how your dad taught me how to do it. Ok, so, after you’ve caught the ghost-.” “How do you catch the ghost?” How Venkman taught her how to negotiate when working with a customer. “Ok, so if you just caught the ghost in my house and I want to give you four pieces of candy, what would you think?” “Sorry ‘unca Venkman, but I’ll need five pieces of candy, because, uh... ghosts are expensive?” Or how Egon would explain total protonic reversal to her. “So, Elodie, when two or more particle beams meet, what happens?” “All the nearby molecules stop at the same time and blow up real fast!” For a five-year-old, she sure had a good grasp of that. “I’m really glad she came with me today, Y/N,” Ray told you that night. He sat on the island in your kitchen in his old, faded sweatpants. You were prepping Ellie’s lunch for school tomorrow. “She was so... invested in the things she was learning.” “Well,” you look up from the bag of baby carrots you were zipping up, “She’s been interested in it from the day she could walk.” Your husband kicks his feet a little, looking up to the ceiling with a hint of a proud smile on his lips. “She’s a genius, I think.” The refrigerator door creaks as you place the Slimer lunchbox in its usual spot. “I’m talking Spengler-levels of intelligence.” It’s your turn to grin as you turn to Ray and place your hands on the counter, nestling yourself between his knees. “That’s because she’s got one hell of a dad to take after,” you praise. Ray pushes some of the hair from your forehead, pressing a kiss to your warm skin. “She’s got some smarts from her dad maybe, but she’s really brilliant and beautiful like her mother.” You giggle and place your hand on top of his; the whole moment makes you feel cozy. “We made one great kid, didn’t we Stantz?”

 “You know what, Stantz,” he mimics your playful tone, “I think you’re right.”

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 6 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29   

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Gene and Paul go to the legendary punk dump CBGB in search of the groupie.

Paul and Gene didn’t talk much for a long time after Peter left. Just sat in the living room half-watching T.V. Gene ordered a pizza about three or four hours later. Paul ate a single piece, drank two Tabs, then tried to head back to his room like a forlorn kid.

           “Hey,” Gene said, taking his arm as he got up to leave.

           “Gene, he didn’t know me. I’ve known him for five years and he didn’t have a clue.”

           “You couldn’t have expected him to.” Gene swallowed. “He was trying to stick up for you.”

           “I didn’t think he cared that much.”

           “Are you serious?”

           “Yeah, I’m serious.”

           “Paul…” Gene stared, shaking his head. “Paul, you two used to talk every damn night. It was obnoxious. You were like teenage girls.”

           Paul snorted.

           “Yeah, and I was the frontman of KISS, too, but look how that turned out.”

           “You’re still the frontman,” Gene rattled out, irritably. “What’s with you? Did you really think Peter didn’t give a shit about you?”

           “Right now, I wish he didn’t. He’s gonna be looking for me all over town.” Paul took a deep breath. “I blew it. I dunno why I even tried to tell him.”

“If we can get this reversed quickly enough, it won’t matter.”

“It will. Peter’ll be all hacked off and telling me about how my girlfriend was cheating, then I’ll have to figure out some lie—blow him off—”

“Don’t worry about that right now.”

“I’m tired of blowing Peter off. I can’t keep this up. If I run into anybody else I know while I’m like this, I’m gonna screw up.”

“Paul—”

“I won’t do it on purpose. But I’ll do it. And maybe nobody’ll figure out who I am, but they’ll know something’s wrong. And—”

“We’ll get you fixed before that’s an issue. I’ll—shit, I don’t know. I’ll make up an excuse for Peter.” What he could possibly tell him, well, Gene had no idea. With any luck in the world, Peter would get a few lines in him and forget all about this afternoon. With any luck. Right. “We might as well get ready for the club. You still want to go, right?”

           Despite himself, Gene didn’t think Paul looked like he was in the shape to go. He had that steeled-up look about him that Gene had seen before, after phone conversations with newly-minted exes and conniving execs and, sometimes, after talking to his parents. He’d keep going, after, but it’d be bitterly. And bitterly was not how he wanted Paul approaching the nightclub. Especially not in the form he was in right now.

           “Yeah.”

           “Yeah?”

           “I’ve been like this for six days. I don’t want it to be seven.”

“Paul, are you—”

“I’m sure. I’m positive. Aren’t you?” Paul’s mouth twitched, as though he were about to say something else, then his lips pursed and he turned on his heel. He didn’t slam the door into his bedroom, but Gene could hear the sound of him locking it. It stung.

Gene changed clothes in the guest bedroom. He hadn’t tried too hard at the punk bit himself, and he knew he wasn’t convincing in just a leather jacket and a black tee, and a pair of plaid pants. Nearly half his purchases. Hopefully, the rest wouldn’t see the light of day. Paul’s guest bedroom was furnished with a weird scattering of Paul’s stuff—on the nightstand were a few notepads filled with his standard dick drawings and caricatures, and the mirrored dresser was loaded with tour knickknacks. Gene picked up a small rag doll some fan had made of Paul in full Starchild regalia, finding tubes of mascara and eyeliner underneath where the doll had lain.

           Punk had started from glam, right? Might as well put on the eyeliner, at least. Paul could keep the mascara. Once Gene was satisfied, he stepped out and headed back to the living room, turning on the T.V. again while he waited. Fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes, and then Paul finally came out of the bedroom.

           He’d teased his curls mercilessly, to the point they probably added back some of the height he’d lost, and the stiff smell of Aquanet emanated off of him. Red lipstick, eyeliner, faint patters of blush, just enough to make his high cheekbones stand out. The jean shorts and fishnets showed off his long legs to much greater effect than the dresses from earlier. He was finally wearing a bra, the shirt was tight against his chest, the fabric straining. Shit. Shit. If Paul didn’t still have a bit of that tense look from earlier, Gene would’ve complimented him. Would’ve teased him. Might have even been tempted to say he was beautiful. Instead, he just stared.

           “Are you ready?” Paul asked tersely.

           “Yeah.”

           Once they got in the car, Paul turned on the radio, which surprised Gene. He hoped nothing of theirs would come on. Manfred Mann started up as Paul turned up the volume—that guy was like a groundhog, poking back in with another hit nearly ten years after his last—and Paul was tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. He’d painted his nails, too, Gene noticed, the black lacquer reminding him suddenly of vinyl. Paul was half-humming, half-singing along under his breath, getting half the rhymes wrong. There’d always been a certain unevenness to his voice that hadn’t helped him, especially as the songs he wrote relied more and more heavily on screamingly high notes. But right now, Gene could tell Paul could hit those notes easily, if he’d let himself.

           He wanted to tell him, stupidly, that he could still sing. He could still play guitar. But Gene stopped himself. Telling him that would be crappy. It would be like telling Paul to give up, that it wasn’t worth it to try to find the girl at all. And it would be selfish, too—selfish to Paul, to Peter, to Ace—everybody connected to KISS, even himself. And for what, so he could indulge himself like a teenage boy on a handful of glimpses? Stare at his best friend’s tits? Have a pretty little thing in bed he wasn’t even sleeping with, when he had hundreds of girls willing to give it up for him every night? It was a lousy trade-off. Anyway, he’d never have to consider it again after tonight. Paul would get the curse reversed and it would be done with.

           Gene looked over, and realized Paul had gone quiet again, after the Chopsticks solo. Half the song was still left.

           “Hey, keep going.”

           “What for?”

           “I like hearing you.”

           “C’mon, Gene, you’ve been hearing me for years, you can’t really—it doesn’t even sound right, like this—”

           “You sound just fine.”

           “I’d be better singing along to Olivia Newton-John at this point,” Paul mumbled, turning down the volume. “‘Maybe I hang around here a little more than I should…’ God, could you get any cheesier?”

           “Face of an angel, heart of a degenerate.”

           “Me or her?”

           In response, Gene poked a finger against one of Paul’s fishnet-clad thighs. Paul surprised him by not shifting his leg immediately. Just took his right hand off the steering wheel, letting it rest on Gene’s for a few seconds. Then he reached over to change the radio station and the moment dissolved.

           It wasn’t long before Paul pulled into a dingy lot not far from CBGB. A drizzle was starting up, the rain droplets like fat stars against the windshield. Paul didn’t bother to turn on the wipers.

           “You might wanna park the car somewhere else,” Gene said finally.

           The car’s interior was dim, but he could still catch Paul’s fragile grin.

           “Is a Spanish Harlem schoolteacher telling me I’m in a bad part of town?”

           “I don’t think punks like fancy cars.”

           Paul laughed just a little, tossing Gene his own Aviator sunglasses before turning off the engine and getting out. Gene put them on, grabbing Paul by the arm almost as soon as he’d locked up the car. Paul threw him a questioning look, but didn’t argue.

          They lined up around the block by the entrance, something Gene wasn’t used to doing. The rain was getting worse, Paul’s frothy curls giving way to pure frizz with every minute they stood out there. Gene’s wasn’t looking any better. The streetlamps and passing cars and buildings were all that lit up the line, but they didn’t seem to have been as far off-base with their outfits as Gene had figured. That, or latecomers like them were wannabes.

          “I thought you said this place wasn’t as crowded as Studio 54.”

          “It’s not. But I never had to wait outside to get in before. I just told Hilly and the bouncer I was—” Paul stopped short. The guy behind them was listening with interest. Paul leaned in against Gene’s arm abruptly. “Well, it doesn’t matter.”

          “Wait, she got into Studio 54?” The guy snorted. “Who’d you have to flash your tits to, huh?”

          Paul flinched but didn’t say anything.

          “I think you owe my girlfriend an apology,” Gene snapped. He didn’t even think about it; the words splattered out like all the lousy come-ons he’d ever bothered with, forthright and obvious as ever. Beside him, Paul let out a nervous breath.

          “Gene, c’mon, it’s fine.”

          “It isn’t fine.”

          “You’re not getting into a fight over this—”

          The guy just rolled his eyes and started to laugh. He was around Gene’s height, but not build. More wiry. Probably drunk.

          “You’re right, I’m not,” Gene said, and took off Paul’s sunglasses. The guy was still chuckling for a few seconds, before his eyes widened in hesitant recognition.

          “H…hey, you can’t be… you can’t be that Gene…”

          As a tight, frozen smile spread its way across Paul’s face, he sunk his elbow square into Gene’s ribcage, just as Gene had been about to demonstrate his tongue. The sharp ache radiated through his side, and he barely managed to keep from doubling over, his slightly-strangled hiss of “what the hell was that for” probably going unheard by Paul. The damage had already been done, anyway. The guy backed off—practically shrunk off, honestly, forfeiting his place in line, but not before screaming—

          “It’s Gene Simmons! He’s here!”

          It was like Moses had parted the Red Sea, if the Red Sea were comprised of scrubby-looking punks and hangers-on. Every eye was on them. Gene put the sunglasses on, more for the sake of disappointing anyone with a camera than really trying to slip back into hiding. No point now. The crowd shifted, crowded toward them, everyone forgetting their places in line as they craned and crammed in for a better view, tried to run up to him, the words scattering like glitter.

          “Is it really you?”

          “It’s him, it has to be Gene! Gene, Gene, oh my God, I love you! I love you!”

          “Can I have your autograph? I have a pen! I have a napkin, please, I—”

          The turmoil lasted five minutes or more, easily. People kept trying to push past Paul, who eventually ended up leaning against Gene, with Gene wrapping an arm around his waist, just to keep from getting trampled. The heel of one of Paul’s boots was on top of his own—digging in unnecessarily hard, Gene thought—for the duration of impromptu autographs and stammered-out praise, occasional begs for a kiss. For once, Gene didn’t go for it. Maybe it was just hard to get in the mood to fool around with Paul grinding his heel into his toes. Maybe it just would’ve been lousy publicity, flirting while he already had a girl he’d brought with him. A couple lousy one-armed hugs were all any of the chicks got. He didn’t have time to really think on it for long, as the crowd started to disperse again, like reluctant scattershot, in the face of someone of higher status. At least, to the club patrons. Hilly Kristal, the owner himself, had come out onto the sidewalk to meet them, with an umbrella and two bouncers in tow.

          “I haven’t heard this much noise out here since Paul Simon checked us out.” He stuck out his hand. Gene shook it. Hilly paused for a second, tilting his head, then offered his hand to Paul, too, who took it without a word. ���Sorry I didn’t catch you sooner. C’mon back.”

          They followed Hilly and the bodyguards to the front entrance of the club. Paul was still simmering.

           “You asshole! That was so embarrassing!”

           “We skipped the line, didn’t we?”

           “I didn’t care about the line! They’ll be all over you now! How could you do that?”

           “He hurt you. You’ve had enough of that today.” Gene swallowed, realizing suddenly that despite Paul’s complaining, Paul hadn’t dropped his arm from his waist yet. It was a little unwieldy, but Gene appreciated the brief brushes of Paul’s chest against his side as they walked. He wouldn’t be getting that if Paul was just holding his hand. “And your hair was getting destroyed.”

           Paul’s free hand went to his scalp on irritated automatic. Hilly’s umbrella had come too late for him to resemble anything more punk than a waterlogged poodle.

           “You don’t look like a Prell commercial yourself,” he retorted. Gene just laughed. One of the bouncers held the door open, and they walked in, instantly encased in the deafening sound of electric guitars and raspy, screaming vocals. Whoever CBGB had headlining tonight had clearly dragged in more than enough amps. The clubgoers, whose attention had probably turned to the front entrance as soon as Hilly and the bodyguards had first walked out, were staring and talking to each other against the din, not approaching them yet. They would soon. Gene was sure of that. Paul must have sensed it, too, from the way his grip on Gene’s waist tightened. “C’mon, Gene, you only let yourself get recognized ’cause you wanted to get laid, right?”

           Gene didn’t answer. He didn’t know why he didn’t answer, any more than he knew why Paul kept pulling him in closer while yanking him away verbally. Maybe that wasn’t exclusive to Paul, either. Maybe.

           “I don’t think anyone else is going to bother you now,” he sidestepped instead. “Let’s find that groupie.”

[the-desolated-quill]

BBC’s The War Of The Worlds blog - Episode 1

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. If you haven’t seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)

I was very much looking forward to the BBC’s adaptation of the H.G. Wells sci-fi classic. How could I not? It’s the definitive alien invasion story that jump-started an entire genre of science fiction  Not to mention this is the first adaptation made by a British film company and actually set in the time period it was written. I was very excited. Nothing could possibly dampen my spirits... until I learned who was writing it.

Peter Harness is a writer I’ve been less than kind to in the past. For those who don’t know, he wrote some of the worst episodes of Doctor Who. Remember that stupid story about the moon being an egg? Yeah, that was him. He also has a penchant for writing painfully forced and thinly veiled allegories with all the grace and subtlety of a ballet dancing rhino in a glow in the dark tutu. Kill The Moon, for example, was a pro life metaphor that portrayed the other side as being irrational baby killers, and his Zygon two parter was about Muslim immigration and integration, with the slimy repulsive Zygons being used as stand-ins for Muslims and non-white immigrants.

Harness’ ability to write allegorical stories about sensitive topics is... under-developed, to say the least. So naturally he’s the perfect candidate to adapt one of the most beloved sci-fi stories ever written. I mean, why not? The BBC have already ruined Sherlock Holmes, courtesy of Steven Moffat. Why stop there?

In all seriousness, while I wasn’t excited about the prospect of Harness getting his grubby mitts on War Of The Worlds, part of me hoped that maybe he could pull something out of the bag. You may recall I held a very similar negative view toward Chris Chibnall, and his first series as showrunner of Doctor Who was an extremely pleasant surprise. Maybe Harness could achieve his own metamorphosis.

He doesn’t.

The first episode of War Of The Worlds was fucking tedious to sit through. It actually looked quite promising initially. We get some nice moody shots of the surface of Mars as Eleanor Tomlinson recites the famous opening lines of the book. But then just after the opening titles, it all goes downhill.

I was sceptical when it was announced that this would be a three parter because that just seemed too much. A feature length film you could do. Maybe a two parter, at a push. But three episodes? Each an hour long? That’s going to require a lot of padding, and that’s exactly what Episode 1 is. We see the Martian cylinders launch from the planet at the beginning of the episode and it’s not until the forty minute mark where we get our first proper glimpse of the Tripods or the heat rays. So what do we get in the mean time? Mostly pointless shit.

The original War Of The Worlds book isn’t exactly remembered for its characterisation. Outside of the astronomer Ogilvy, none of the characters even have names, but to be fair to Wells, the characters themselves weren’t really the driving force of the narrative. The Martians were. The narrator, a journalist, was merely there to relay and facilitate the plot, giving us a first hand account of the subjugation of Earth. Fine for a book, but somewhat harder to get away with in a film or TV series, which is why most don’t even try. Every single adaptation of War Of The Worlds attempts to expand on the central characters to varying degrees of success, and the BBC version is no exception. But where Harness really miscalculates is in anticipating how much the audience is going to care about the characters, to which the answer is ‘not that much.’ We don’t want them to die obviously, but we’re not so interested in who they are or where they come from because they’re not the main focus. The Martians are. So to have a significant chunk of the episode focusing on their day to day lives is quite baffling. Not to mention unbelievably boring.

George, played by Rafe Spall, is living out of wedlock with Amy, played by Eleanor Tomlinson, which causes their neighbours’ tongues to clack and net curtains to twitch. The only person supporting their union is Ogilvy, played by Robert Carlysle, which is how they learn about the mysterious goings on the surface of Mars. This is all established in the first five minutes, but as I said, the Martians don’t properly show up until the forty minute mark. Until then we’re subjected to painfully forced and tediously dull ‘right on’ posturing and irrelevant social commentary that adds nothing to the core narrative.

Here’s the thing. I’ve got nothing against the idea of expanding the characters. I definitely have no problem with giving the narrator’s wife from the book more development and screen time. In fact I’m all in favour of it. What I do have a problem with, however, is when that expansion and development comes at the expense of the plot.

A man and a woman shacked up together in defiance of society is all well and good, but what does any of this have to do with War Of The Worlds? It’s not even as if Harness tries to connect this back to the story’s main themes of imperialism and colonialism. It’s mentioned that Amy was born and raised in India. Maybe if she was an Indian woman, it could have been more thematically relevant, but no. Once again we have a period drama with no people of colour because, as we all know, non-white people weren’t invented until 1962. Also, while I get that society at the time was very strict, I’m not entirely convinced George and Amy’s relationship would have been that scandalous to the point where it would have affected his career as a journalist. That just seems like a step too far and is merely there to add some artificial tension... in a story about Martians invading the Earth.

In the end it all comes down to this. Why the fuck should I care? What’s the bloody point of this? Yes it expands the characters, but it doesn’t contribute anything to the narrative. It just wastes time. Again, I must stress, we don’t get our first Martian until forty minutes into an hour long episode. Previous adaptations never felt the need to bore the audience to death with pointless shit because they knew what audiences came to see. Martians blowing shit up. Steven Spielberg’s adaptation of War Of The Worlds from 2005 didn’t piss about giving us needless exposition about Tom Cruise and his family. We’re given the basic info about the characters and their relationships within the first ten minutes before the Tripods emerge and the action gets going. The BBC version, in contrast, is just painfully slow, dictating every tiny thing about these characters even when it’s not relevant to the plot.

And the thing is, once we actually get to the bits from the actual book (you know? The bits people actually want to see?), it’s actually pretty good. The Tripod looks incredible, as was the scene in Horsell Common where we saw people getting killed by the heat ray. Unfortunately we have to slog through all this other crap before we can get to the good stuff.

Eleanor Tomlinson probably gives the strongest performance as Amy. It’s just a pity the character is so utterly uninteresting. Like I said, I’ve got nothing against giving her a bigger role than she had in the book, but it feels like Harness is more interested in showing off his feminist credentials than actually telling a story or creating a believable or likeable character. Her being an assistant to Ogilvy I think is a great idea, but it soon becomes clear that this was only done so other male scientists could comment on how unusual it is to have a woman digging up a crashed cylinder, which is kind of ridiculous because I’m pretty sure female scientists did exist back then and you don’t exactly need a penis to use a fucking shovel. Then things turn really stupid when George’s brother, played by Rupert Graves, starts blaming her for the Martian invasion, saying that everything was going fine until she came along. Exploring 19th century sexism is one thing, but this is just daft. There’s no interest in actually exploring the root causes of sexism back then. Instead Harness seems content with portraying men as being the equivalent of cartoon caricatures foaming at the mouth.

George, meanwhile, goes from being a fairly boring character to a downright hateful one when it’s revealed that he and Amy aren’t just living out of wedlock, but that he cheated on his missus because she was infertile. So not only do I not care about him, I now straight up want him to die because what the actual fuck?! And this is not helped by Rafe Spall’s incredibly wooden performance. Seriously, I’ve seen corpses with more life in them. When the Tripod first emerges, we see him stare at it in what I assume was supposed to be shock, but instead he just looked gormless. It’s honest to God one of the worst performances I think I’ve ever seen. There’s no emotional range to him whatsoever. He just blunders around wearing a confused frown on his face. It’s as if he had just wandered onto the set by mistake.

The biggest problem with this first episode is that Harness is focusing on all the wrong areas. A large segment is dedicated to George investigating the Dogger Bank incident, which seems to be an attempt at making a parallel between the UK’s tenuous relationship with Russia then and now. What this has to do with War Of The Worlds, I don’t know. There’s so far been no attempt at exploring the themes of the source material as we’re too busy with this shitty romance. There’s even a moment where we see the characters dig up the cylinder and take a photo only for the same exact scene to happen five minutes later. I mean for fuck sake!

And then there’s the pointless plot twists. First we get the cliched pregnancy reveal, then it’s revealed that the scenes we thought were on Mars turned out to actually be a post apocalyptic Earth with Amy and a seven year old kid who is presumably her son. Wait, how long has this fucking invasion been going on for?! It only lasted a couple of weeks in the book! What happened? Did the Martians get vaccinated? This just highlights to me how inept Harness is as a writer. He can’t just do a straight adaptation of War Of The Worlds. He has to engineer these pointless and utterly idiotic cliffhangers to get people to keep watching because the story and characters clearly aren’t doing that.

If I wasn’t committed to reviewing this mini-series, I honestly wouldn’t watch the rest of this. This first episode is legitimately terrible. Boring, poorly thought out and utterly, utterly clueless. Just like everything else Peter Harness has ever written. I don’t understand why he was chosen to adapt War Of The Worlds and I don’t understand why he chose to adapt it in this way. Why so much focus on pointless exposition? Why over-complicate the lives of the main characters? Why can’t they just be a normal married couple living a life of privilege until the Martians come and trample all over it? It makes no sense! Some could defend this saying it was building tension until the Martians emerged, but there’s a significant difference between making an audience nervously anticipate the Tripods arrival and making them wait impatiently for something, anything, interesting to happen.

[ibisfarrow]

How More Progressive Advertisements Have Contributed to a More Progressive Society

(Essay from my 2018 sexuality and gender studies class)

Historically advertisements and television have been used to reinforce traditional ideas of gender and sexuality, ignoring the changing times, in order to promote ideas that they believe will bring them the most support. The true effect of media and its ability to sway the masses was not utilised, instead it may have done harm by further promoting conservative ideas and isolating those who didn’t fit quite their standards, making them feel even more like a minority. Huang & Hutchinson assert that ‘persuasive communication’ is a key component of advertisement, so historical ads have not only used this method to persuade the public to buy certain products, but also strengthen any traditional ideas presented (2008, p.98). Would feminism still be considered such a dirty word if there wasn’t consistent ‘hostility from sections of the media,’ such as the various anti-feminist postcards available in the early 20th century attacking the suffragist movement (Curthoys 1994, p.16)? And would people still be insisting that ‘there were no homosexuals in the Australian armed forces’ if it weren’t for the large number of hypermasculine, heteronormative enlistment posters (Willet, G. & Smaal, Y. 2013)? Recently there has been a change in the way media and advertisers view controversial and taboo topics such as gender and sexuality, many having realised how beneficial supporting progressive ideas can be for their business through the attention it can bring. This essay will be addressing three different ways business have used progressive ideas in marketing and the effects it has had both on the business itself and the related cause/group, and along with this it will give a brief history of Gay representation in television, it’s critical reception, and how this influenced the directions of future TV shows.

During and prior to the 2017 marriage equality postal-survey many businesses put posters in their windows announcing that they were voting ‘yes’. This served two purposes, firstly, it was a show of solidarity towards the LGBT+ community; and secondly, it was a marketing ploy. Not only did it aim to make the businesses appear more welcoming to queer customers, and therefore be chosen over their competitors, but it also drew media attention to many of the companies, such as the various businesses mentioned in a Broadsheet article, which included big name corporations like Amazon, eBay, Testra, and Wordpress, as well as a plethora of small cafes and restaurants. An entire article on Techly was devoted to a Melbourne Subway store after it started printing pro-marriage equality messages on its receipts, which increased sales exponentially. Of course, I am by no means saying these acts of support were bad or selfish, even if they led to financial gain, because they likely had a hand in the postal survey’s positive results. The constant presence of the ‘vote yes’ posters may have caused what is known as the socialisation effect, a form of herd behaviour which is described by Teraji (2003, p.162) as when we are ‘influenced in our decision making by what others around us are doing’ and is a common way that humans deal with ‘environmental uncertainty’, meaning that those who were undecided on which way to vote may have chosen to vote ‘yes’ because the advertisements made it appear like the most popular option. This demonstrates how advertising’s recent indulgence of more controversial issues can both benefit the company and make society more progressive.

The first openly gay character on primetime television was the one-time character Steve (Philip Carey) on All in the Family. Steve appeared in the episode ‘Judging books by covers’, which received extreme backlash, with at-the-time president Nixon even stating in a 1971 interview that he ‘had to turn the goddamn thing off’ because homosexuality should not be glorified ‘anymore that you glorify whores’ (RICHARD NIXON TAPES: Archie Bunker & Homosexuality 2008). Despite the outrage, the episodes high rating, historical significants and praise from the gay community – which was still fairly new in the public eye – broke the ice, in a sense, and in 1972 The Corner Bar introduced the first ever recurring gay character in a primetime television show, Peter Panama (Vincent Schiavelli). Peter was largely criticised by the gay community, who saw him as little more than an offensive caricature, but that didn’t change the fact that producer Allen King was trying something that no one had had the courage to try before.

In 1994 Ikea began running the first ever television commercial to feature a gay couple, which showed the pair discussing how they met and their differing tastes in furniture while picking out a dining room table. Despite it’s late night runtime (beginning at 10pm), the ad still saw quite a bit of backlash, particularly from religious groups, with Reverend Donald Wildmon calling for an Ikea boycott and one New York store facing a bomb threat. According to an LA Times article, the Ikea headquarters were flooded with ‘hundreds of phone calls and letters’, mostly complaints but also some commending the company for its open-mindedness (1994). This wasn’t the first advertisement to feature openly gay individuals, however it was the first TV commercial to do so. It broke the ice, in a sense, and opened the door for more ads starring gay individuals. A European study on the impact of alcohol advertisements on teen drinking habits found that ‘exposure to televised alcohol advertising was found to be a significant predictor of drinking behavior’, meaning that, according to their research, teenagers who were exposed to alcohol advertisements were more likely to consume alcohol. Multiple other studies have made this same connection between tobacco advertisements and cigarette smoking in youths. While there have been no studies done on the effects of gay couples in commercials, it can be assumed that this advertising exposure effect can be applied to pretty much everything that is advertised. While gay people in ads cannot turn people gay, like so many religious organisations fear, it does normalise it and may, in the same way alcohol ads promote drinking, promote acceptance of LGBT+ individuals. Along with the increase in support for the LGBT+ community, these ads have also put pressure on other companies to create more inclusive advertisements – or at the very least remain quiet about their prejudices. A bakery that refused to serve a lesbian couple in 2o13 was forced to close its storefront and move online soon after the controversy, then close completely in 2016 due to continued backlash and poor sales brought on by their discrimination. It’s unlikely their actions would have prompted such outrage if it weren’t for other companies promoting the acceptance of the LGBT+ community. Up until 1994 the only times homosexuality had been mentioned in television advertisements were in fear-inducing Public Service Announcements about HIV/AIDS that directly or indirectly blamed the disease on ‘the depraved activities of homosexuals’ (Sendziuk, P. 2003, p11), such as the way the 1987 Australian AIDS PSA (Grim Reaper Bowling) specifies that ‘at first only gays and IV users were being killed by AIDS’, an unnecessary distinction considering the ad itself is about how anyone can contract it (Grim Reaper [1987] 2006). The ways LGBT+ rights are treated on television has a direct impact on how the public sees the matter, and so advertisements that normalise the LGBT+ community help to foster an accepting society.

Disney Channel’s live-action series ‘Good Luck Charlie’ went down in history as the first kid’s show to depict a gay couple, with the 2014 episode ‘Down a Tree’ showing the protagonist’s parents entertain a lesbian couple while their toddlers have a play-date. This episode aired near the end of what was already confirmed to be the show’s final season, so the writers did not have anything to lose from this decision. Reception for the episode was mixed, but ultimately the positive outweighed the negative and other series have followed Disney’s example. Since 2014 three non-Disney series have featured LGBT+ characters and relationships, and Disney has made history a second time with Andi Mack, a live-action show that features a gay main character. Each of these series has received media attention and polarising receptions, leading more people to discover the shows and increase their ratings, while also making queer children feel more comfortable with themselves by finally having characters to relate to.

In 2015 Target made what some considered to be a bold move by removing gender labels on their toy aisles, an act that elicited outrage from many conservative parents who didn’t seem to trust their own children to pick gender-appropriate toys without this signage. These complaints changed nothing, and soon Kmart and Toys ‘R’ Us followed Target’s example. While these stores still pack all of the traditional boys and girls toys in separate aisles, there are no labels, and so nothing to cause shame in children who wander down what some might consider the wrong aisle. This change coincided with a societal shift that brought gender politics into the spotlight, with both Caitlyn Jenner coming out and the transgender bathroom debate reached the US courts that year. This demonstrates the company’s understanding of social issues and willingness to take risks in order to appeal to a more evolved, modern audience then their previous store set-up. This became even more apparent in 2017 when Target released an ad showing an adolescent boy with their nail polish, subverting gender norms in a way that no other mainstream company has done on Australian TV since. This change reflects how society itself is becoming more open-minded, and instead of playing it safe and pandering to conservative views, companies are realising how diverse their consumers are and altering their advertisements to be more relatable.  

To summarise, the ways companies advertise has moved from promoting safe and traditional values to more controversial, yet modern subject matters. This has not only benefitted the businesses by giving them an edge their competitors don’t have, but has also helped to normalise the different identities and lifestyles being featured in these advertisements, which in turn assisted in creating a more inclusive society. Changes in representation in television programmes has had a similar effect, reflecting our current society more accurately now than ever before, and therefore to normalising certain identities and more accurately representing society than ever before.

 Sources:

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Hobson, C. & Hobson, P. 1910, Postcard, University of Northern Iowa, Cedar Falls, Iowa

[flamboyantly-incompetent]

Neuron, Ch.7

Bucky x Named (Mutant) Reader

Warnings: swearing (all of my fics are going to have swearing I’m sorry), some general awkwardness, me trying to write a remotely romantic occurrence... good luck

Masterlist

Word count: 2960

Note: Gif isn’t mine, but it is beautiful.  This series is getting big, and to be perfectly honest, it’ll keep getting bigger because I’m now attached to these people and their stories.  So.  In light of that I’ll hopefully be posting a master list and replacing the chapter links with a link to that master list shortly.

“You know, you don’t have to be a super soldier all the time.”  You sat next to Bucky in the sand under the shade of a conveniently located arch. His sweat-drenched hair flopped against his equally sweaty face as he leaned his head haphazardly on the cool stone, laughing mirthlessly.  “I’m serious, Bucky.”

“I’m fine.”

“That wasn’t the question.” Bucky gave you a side eye, his Adam’s apple bobbing ever so slightly.  You sighed and continued, “All I’m saying is that you don’t have to be fine all the time.”  When he didn’t respond you angled yourself towards him sitting cross-legged.  “Please don’t shut me out.”

“And you?”  His eyes met yours.  He managed to hide himself impressively well, and in his face, you saw a sea of calm, but behind that, turbulence.  “You walked right into a trap on purpose.  You could have died.”

Now that you hadn’t considered.  Of course, he was right; you could have.  But you didn’t.  You weren’t sure if you were supposed to be bothered.  It didn’t seem real.  On top of that, you’d done the things you’d sworn you’d never do.  Twice, three times if you counted that incident with the General as a separate occurrence, for one man.  And by that you were bothered, or rather, bothered by how you were unbothered. You started to say, “I would do it for anyone,” except that was utter bullshit, there were maybe five people on that list.  Bucky was one of them.  Instead, you said, “I would do it again.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

“You changed the subject.”

“I am a hundred and two years old.  You don’t need to worry about me.”

“You are my friend. It is my job to worry about you.”

He looked away again. “Now you sound like Steve.”

You swatted his arm. The metal one.  Ow.  “That’s a low blow, Buck.  But, for real though.  You okay?”

“Yeah!” he said just a little too fast.  He heard it too and sighed dramatically.  “I’m okay now.”  His head swiveled back around to you.  “Thank you.” You hrked, in your head, thank God.

Reaching out, you put a hand over his metal one that rested on the ground between you and looked out towards the ocean; the steady rush of crashing waves settled your stomach.  The arch sat too far from the water for any of the sea’s spray to reach you, but the air still smelled of it; salty and fresh. In your peripheral Bucky’s gaze flickered between you and your hands; they didn’t look so different since you still wore the suit.

“Denna,” he started.

“Denna!” said Steve from the suit’s comm.  You liked it much better when Bucky said your name.  “ETA in two minutes.  Where are you?  Is everyone okay?”

“You’re gonna want to land along the coast, because the coast is clear.”  Tony groaned in the background.  “We’ll meet you there.  I’m fine, but Bucky probably needs some medical attention.”

Bucky wrinkled his nose. “I do not.”

“Yeah, yeah, tough guy. Let’s go,” you grumbled, getting to your feet and offering him a hand up.  He seemed sturdy enough on his feet, still, he’d lost a fair amount of blood and you watched him closely.  Under the sun again, you felt like a wet noodle, trudging along in the sand. “When’s the last time you ate something?”

“Dunno, day before last?”

“While we were in Pennsylvania?”  The realization seemed strange, it felt like so much time had passed since then.

He massaged his neck with his right hand.  “Yeah, guess so.”  A low and distant hum built up around you, and soon the sand did the same.  The jet landed, the hatch opened, and several distressed superheroes came flooding out.  At least Peter was happy to see you.

Steve clapped Bucky on the shoulder, “Glad to see you, Buck.”

Bucky replied, smiling, “You too.  Looks like we both made it out in one piece.”  A whisper of guilt made a pass over Steve’s face.  Bucky continued, quieter, “I’m fine.”

“You look like a Stormtrooper!” Peter exclaimed, trotting up to you.  You mirrored his excited grin.

“I feel like Captain Phasma.”

“What?  You have a cape?  Dude, that is awesome.  Mr. Stark why don’t all your suits have capes?”

Tony quirked an eyebrow. “Kid, I’m not dignifying that with a response.”  He surveyed the dirt marks on the cape in question, billowing around your legs dramatically.  “You found the catch feature.”

Earnest, you nodded, “I did. It’s quite brilliant.”

“Well it was inspired by a friend of mine.  But he’s not here, so thank you I will be taking the credit.”  Wanda, Vision and Sam stopped behind Stark and Peter.  Tony continued, “How’s it looking in there, Champ?” Everybody turned their attention to you. You were not prepared.

“Uh, well,” you looked up at the huge building.  When you’d arrived you were blindfolded, so you hadn’t noticed how intimidating the facility was.  “Honestly, I don’t know.  Mostly everybody in there was unconscious when we, ah, made our exit,” you trailed off, gesturing up to the broken window.  It stood quite high up off the ground, two stories at least.

Sam leaned towards Bucky and mumbled, “Do I want to know?”  Bucky shook his head in response.

You continued, “That was about ten minutes ago.  Strucker said something about a director coming today for, well, for us.  But there are several prisoners in there we need to release before that happens.”

“I thought there were no prisoners with Hydra,” said Sam in a caricature voice, “Only order.”

You shook your head hesitantly, “They’re building an army of mutants.”

Wanda looked up sharply, “Again?”

“Yeah, but instead of making them, they’re ‘recruiting’ them.  Pretending they’re some sort of special employee.  Hydra’s going corporation.”

“Speaking of which,” said Bucky, “anybody know where the door is?  What?  I was unconscious.”

Your hands rose up defensively, “I was wearing a sack hat.”

Steve’s face twisted with confusion, “Why would you be… you let yourself be captured?”  He crossed his arms angrily.

“Well, I didn’t exactly have a better plan, Steve.  This place is a maze, can we get this done, please?”

“We are not done talking about this.”  Swallowing that eye-roll tasted like swallowing a raw egg drenched in sriracha, but you held Steve’s gaze.  After a long moment, he finally continued, “There’s an entrance on the West end, and there should be another farther along this wall.  Tony and Sam, you two sweep the building through there,” he pointed to the smashed window, “Wanda, Vision, Peter, you three enter through the West, find the prisoners.”  He turned to Bucky.  “You wanna sit this out?”

Bucky scoffed, mouth set in an easy grin, “Hell no, my favorite shirt is still in there somewhere.” An inexplicable tension worked its way into your gut.  Why did he always do this?  Sure, he was a grown-ass man, he could make his own decisions.  But for fuck’s sake.

Steve clapped his hands and the team dispersed, he and Bucky following the wall of the building.

Not knowing who to follow, you trotted after Bucky.  “Wait,” you called to Steve, “does someone need to watch the General?”

He replied, “Not unless you want to,” eliciting a scowl and a groan from you.  You followed closely at Bucky’s heels, feeling suddenly very much like a child.  “How’s it looking in there, Sam?” he asked.

Sam’s response echoed between your comm and Steve’s, “Everybody up here’s still out, Cap.”

Steve advised caution; after all, they’d be more than a little agitated when they came to.  Then, he asked the other group if they’d found the entrance.

“Yeah, yeah.  We’re in,” Peter replied, “Man, you weren’t lying – this place is a maze!”

Finally, the three of you came upon a smallish, dark wooden door.  Steve gestured, “Buck, if you would.”

With a breathy huff, Bucky planted a hard kick to the door, breaking it nearly in half.  Damn.

Steve went in first, he had to duck.

“That’s my move, Barnes,” you said, trying to mask how impressed you were.

He smiled lightheartedly at you.  “Hate to break it to you, doll, but that’s always been my move,” he said before following Steve into the building.  This guy was gonna be the death of you, easy. The room you stepped into seemed to be some sort of training facility.  The three of you fanned out.

Along the wall sat all sorts of things for run-of-the-mill training: punching bags, weights, a thick rope that hung from the ceiling swaying slightly.  There were also some questionable, possibly training related items, namely a huge iron freezer and a still-warm bed of coals.  But, thankfully, no people.

Steve came up behind you silently, making you jump a little when he whispered, “You’re worried about him.” This time, you couldn’t suppress the eye-roll.  He continued, “You heard him, he’s fine.  He’s survived worse than this.”

Unable to stop yourself, your voice swam with bitterness and guilt, “What skin of his isn’t bruised or burned is covered in blood, and he hasn’t eaten anything for two days.  And, for the record, the only thing keeping me from putting his ass on the jet right now is the fact that I do, in fact, know that he can handle himself. You both still need to learn the difference between alive and fine.”  God, you felt so dramatic, and ashamed for how possessive you sounded. Sure, you knew you were technically right, but did that give you the right to point it out?

Continuing along the wall, you came across a locker room in a small alcove.  Inside, a gigantic first aid kit sat in a cage bolted to the wall.

“Hey Buck!  C’mere a minute,” Steve called before ripping the cage from the wall and putting it into your arms.  “Make it fast.”  He clapped Bucky on the shoulder as they passed each other, you stood there helplessly trying to ignore Bucky’s quirked eyebrow.

“I don’t know what to do with this; I’m a software engineer not a nurse!”

Bucky opened his mouth to speak, but before he could Vision phased through the ceiling.  You blinked a few times as he said, “Denna, we’ve found the prisoners but they’re refusing to speak to us.  You may have more luck.”  He took the kit from your hands and gestured for Bucky to sit down. Okay, good.

“Stairs?” you asked, backing away.  Vision pointed and you ran for it.  “Let’s go Steve, stairs this way.”

The spring reinforced feet on your suit let you run faster than you’d ever thought possible, and you kept pace with Steve easily.  He took the stairs two at a time.

The staircase put you in one of the hallways that led to the other enormous window in the facility, this one looking out at the countryside.  Finally getting your bearings, you led Steve to the wing with the holding cells.

Peter, relieved to see you, said, “No one will come out of their cells.”

Wanda, less relieved but not uncivil, cut in, “Maybe you can convince them that we’re not Hydra.”  You and Steve shared an acknowledging look before he left you to handle the situation and continued on into the facility.

Nodding at Wanda, you decided to liberate Diego, Perla and Sharkbait first, assuming they were the ringleaders here.  Their cell was already open, and when you looked in Diego threw his head back and clapped his hands together.  “Denna Reese. When the screaming stopped, we feared the worst,” he said, “I assume your friend is still with us?”

You smiled, “Yeah, Diego, he’s… he’s alive.”  He seemed to know exactly what you meant.

Sharkbait smiled sheepishly at you, “I couldn’t smell you, either of you.  Then we heard the plane landing, and I thought we were being tested again.”  Again?

“So that’s why everybody’s hiding from us.  And we thought we were just scary,” you said, adopting a silly tone in an effort to make the boy smile.  You were not disappointed as he giggled, not a bit nervous.

Perla, less sure, wrapped an arm around her young brother.  “Then it is safe to assume this is not some Hydra trick?”

“It is absolutely not. You’re all free to go,” you gestured out into the hallway, “Could you tell the rest of these guys that?”  The three siblings nodded and you moved aside to let them through, Diego first, then Perla.

As soon as he stepped out of the cell, Sharkbait stiffened.  “Someone’s here.  They’re really old,” he said, breathing deep, “They don’t belong here.”

You hesitated, “Well we do have two hundred-year-old men with us.  It could be one of them.”

He gave you a cryptic look. “Be careful, Denna.”  Diego shrugged at you before making his way to another holding cell, poking his head in.  Perla held a hand out to you, which you shook eagerly, and then to Wanda. The two began a conversation, Sharkbait glued to Perla’s side, that you casually tuned out.  A few people from each cell followed Diego out and allowed him to turn them over to Peter, who promptly smiled reassuringly and led them down the hall.

A loud crash echoed from the basement and Bucky swore, “What the hell?”  Your stomach and heart collided.  Dear God, what was going wrong this time?  You didn’t give yourself a moment to think about it before you were sprinting back to where you’d left him and Vision.

Some loud, metallic clanging continued sporadically, getting louder as you got closer, until by the time you reached the alcove, panting, Bucky and Vision were both giggling hysterically.  Bucky looked much better, the blood was gone and his other injuries appeared to be less angry.  He held his metal arm in his right hand; the thing spasmed intermittently eliciting new rounds of giggles.

Flabbergasted, you asked, “What’s, what’s going on?”

Finally, Bucky managed to look at you.  His face didn’t hold the buried anxiety you’d seen earlier, which set you at ease a bit. Still laughing, he explained, “Whatever electrical mumbo-jumbo Strucker did to me didn’t agree with it.  Tried to take the damn thing off, nearly punched through the wall.  Knocked over a bunch of shit and everything.”

You had never seen Vision laugh.  It perplexed you.  “The sound you made,” he said, making some sort of yelping thunk noise that sounded much like a robotic cat being sprayed with a hose, “Brilliant.”

“I’m glad you approve, Vision.  Means a lot to me,” Bucky replied.  You took a moment to breathe and leaned against the wall, closing your eyes and willing your heart rate to slow down.  Really, you had to get a grip.  It was one thing to be protective of a friend, and that’s exactly what Bucky was. A friend.  But it was another to want to shield him as much as you did, to let yourself believe that he needed you.  That’s what this was, right?  You being overprotective?  But that didn’t even come close to explaining the weightlessness you felt when he laughed, or the bubbling energy when he said your name like it was his own sentence.

When your eyes opened again, Bucky was staring at you, biting his bottom lip.

Goddammit.  This was so not the right time to make a move.

Vision cleared his throat. “I think my work here is done.” You held Bucky’s gaze as Vision floated back up through the ceiling and, had you had the presence of mind, you would have wondered how it was possible.

Instead, you muttered, “Fucking hell.”  This was going to happen; it had a mind of its own and there was no way you could stop it now.  The distance between you closed in an instant to still managed to last far too long. In another instant, your right hand tangled in the hair at Bucky’s neck, your left hand gripped his shoulder, and your lips caught his desperately.  A small gasp of surprise escaped him.

Oh.  Right.  You couldn’t just go around kissing people.

Face very flushed, you pulled back and put some distance back between you.  Afraid to meet his gaze again, you folded your hands behind your back.  “I’m sorry, that was probably uncalled for.”

“I’ll say,” he snorted, “If you’re gonna kiss a fella like that, at least let him put his arm down.”  He approached you cautiously as you looked up, trying to grasp his meaning, and set his arm on top of a row of lockers. Immobilized by a hearty mix of fear, desire and embarrassment, there was no sound you could hear that you could focus on but his footsteps.

“I didn’t realize there was a protocol for this,” you croaked; it was hard to speak with him this close. He smelled like blood and sweat, and you didn’t have the presence of mind to wonder why that seemed good to you.

He nodded very seriously, “It is the general rule of thumb,” earning a nervous smile from you.  He brushed a tangle of hair out of your face with his flesh hand.  “Denna.” There it was again, jump starting your heart.

“Denna?  Buck?  Where’d you go?”

“God fucking dammit Steve, what do you want?” Bucky grumbled, resting his forehead on the locker behind you.

You shushed him gently and said into the comm, “We’re, ahem, we’re still on the ground floor.  What’s going on?”  

“I’m in Strucker’s office. You guys are gonna want to see this.”  Bucky’s arm snaked around your waist.

“Roger that, Cap,” you squeaked.  As soon as he switched off you burst out laughing.  Bucky followed suit, grudgingly, his whole torso shaking.  You just couldn’t catch a break.

[leviathan-supersystem]

ooh this is fun

i’ve long positied that the lesswrong/rationalist ideology is specifically inimical to marxism and leftism in a way it’s not inimical to other political ideologies, and also that the lesswronger ideology has a profoundly anti-democratic undercurrent. so it’s nice to get both of those confirmed by the second banana himself.

now on to dissecting it:

Mistake theorists treat politics as science, engineering, or medicine. The State is diseased. We’re all doctors, standing around arguing over the best diagnosis and cure. Some of us have good ideas, others have bad ideas that wouldn’t help, or that would cause too many side effects.

Conflict theorists treat politics as war. Different blocs with different interests are forever fighting to determine whether the State exists to enrich the Elites or to help the People.

this here is a shoddy dichotomy which vastly oversimplifies reality- people don’t break down neatly into the “mistake theorist” and “conflict theorist” camps, because virtually everyone is in the middle range, because this is reflective of observable reality- in which some disagreements are caused by mistakes of fact, and some disagreements are caused by conflicts of interest. any reasonable person would go on a case by case basis, and thoroughly evaluate the evidence to determine if a particular political issue hinges on mistake or on conflict, and not pre-suppose one or the other.

scott’s framework here is strawmaning marxists as viewing all political disagreements as matters of class conflict, which is ridiculous. for one thing you have to at the very least have to acknowlege that marxists generally don’t view debates with other marxists on these terms.

however, scott’s this framework isn’t completely useless- while very few people actually fall close to his categories, and most are somewhere in the middle, there are occasions in which one side of a debate views the debate as a conflict of interest, and the other as a debate over mistake of fact. however, this has no bearing on how they’d be positioned in other debates.

furthermore, scott’s use of this framework is somewhat revelatory- the fact that scott proposes this sort of dichotomy for his framing, and doesn’t hesitate to align with the “mistake theorist” side, shows that scott really does have a knee-jerk tendency to view all disagreements as mere issues of error of fact. scott is so strong in this knee-jerk tendency that when he encounters someone saying a particular debate is centrally about conflict of interest, scott is unable to parse that person as having a nuanced view, and assumes they are as knee-jerk as himself in the opposite direction, and they must view ALL debates as conflicts of interest.

there are some holes in his strawman, though- even this imagined “conflict theorist” he’s created has to acknowlege that most people on the other side are simply mistaken:

Conflict theorists think this is more often a convenient excuse than a real problem. The Elites get giant yachts, and the People are starving to death on the streets. And as soon as somebody says that maybe we should take a little bit of the Elites’ money to feed the People, some Elite shill comes around with a glossy PowerPoint presentation explaining why actually this would cause the Yellowstone supervolcano to erupt and kill everybody. And just enough People believe this that nobody ever gets around to achieving economic justice, and the Elites buy even bigger yachts, and the People keep starving.

in this scenario, even the strawman conflict theorist acknowledges that the people who believe the powerpoint are mistaken, and could be won over through reason and debate, thus undercutting the narrative scott is presenting in which strawmen “conflict theorists” are generally uninterested in debate.

while he briefly touches on the idea of there being a spectrum between “easy” and “hard” conflict theorists toward the end (with easy conflict theorists viewing all conflicts as battles to the death between good and evil, and hard conflict theorists viewing them as clashes between differing but comprehensible worldviews) the essay at large mostly ignores the existence of the latter group in order to make his strawman a more exaggerated anti-rational stereotype. the whole tendency to caricature opponents as anti-rational also plays in to his assumption that conflict theorists would be anti-intellectual, which ignores that in the context of a conflict, having intelligent people working on your side to win the conflict is obviously desirable.

relating to the way in which the imagined “conflict theorist” archetype is exaggerated into an anti-rational strawman:

What would the conflict theorist argument against the Jacobite piece look like? Take a second to actually think about this. Is it similar to what I’m writing right now – an explanation of conflict vs. mistake theory, and a defense of how conflict theory actually describes the world better than mistake theory does?

No. It’s the Baffler’s article saying that public choice theory is racist, and if you believe it you’re a white supremacist. If this wasn’t your guess, you still don’t understand that conflict theorists aren’t mistake theorists who just have a different theory about what the mistake is. They’re not going to respond to your criticism by politely explaining why you’re incorrect.

while i’m not a “conflict theorist”- as i’ve pointed out, in reality no one is- i imagine i’m somewhat close to what scott has in mind with the term, as i am (roughly) a marxist. and i would hope my response to this post would show that this is not accurate, and i am in fact interested in responding to scotts criticism by explaining why he is incorrect.

even if i do think scott amounts to the hypothetical “Elite shill” with a powerpoint saying yellowstone will erupt, proving his claims wrong on a technical level is still my first and most important priority if i want him to not be a successful shill. simply accusing him of being a shill, and pointing out the $1,627,000 which MIRI (which scott is affiliated with) has received from Peter Thiel would be useless if i couldn’t also demonstrate to people that he was incorrect. the insinuation that viewing a particular disagreement as a conflict of interest presupposes any possibility of engaging on a factual level is ludicrous. even if i think the “conflict theorist”/”mistake theorist” is just a cheap rhetorical trick to sell people on anti-democratic ideology, i still need to demonstrate that it’s not reflective of material reality.

also, there’s the way in which scott frames the issue to exaggerate the anti-free-speech tendencies of the “conflict theory” strawman, while glossing over the anti-free-speech tendencies of his “mistake theory.” he says:

Mistake theorists think that free speech and open debate are vital, the most important things.

but earlier, he says:

For a mistake theorist, passion is inadequate or even suspect. Wrong people can be just as loud as right people, sometimes louder. If two doctors are debating the right diagnosis in a difficult case, and the patient’s crazy aunt hires someone to shout “IT’S LUPUS!” really loud in front of their office all day, that’s not exactly helping matters. If a group of pro-lupus protesters block the entry to the hospital and refuse to let any of the staff in until the doctors agree to diagnose lupus, that’s a disaster.

note that even if his hypothetical pro-lupus protesters were not to block the entry of the hospital, and were to engage in a less disruptive form of protest, this would still be viewed within his framework as a complete waste of energy and a public nuisance, to be eliminated for efficiency sake- as, indeed, would all protest. this is not actually an especially pro-free speech framework! while viewing a particular political debate as a conflict is certainly compatible with an anti-free speech perspective, it doesn’t necessarily imply it- while conversely, the mistake theory framework does firmly imply an anti-protest stance, making his claim that mistake theorists are champions of free speech more than a little questionable.

i do like how he acknowledges the strong anti-democratic undercurrent of his analysis:

When mistake theorists criticize democracy, it’s because it gives too much power to the average person – who isn’t very smart, and who tends to do things like vote against carbon taxes because they don’t believe in global warming. They fantasize about a technocracy in which informed experts can pursue policy insulated from the vagaries of the electorate.

gotta stop that electorate!

i like the use of global warming as an example though- it shows what the undercurrent of the whole lesswronger/”rationalist” framework is, which is trying to sell profoundly anti-leftist ideas toward a progressive-leaning audience by dressing them up in progressive shibboleths- in this case, trying to sell anti-democratic technocracy to environmentalists by presenting it as a way to prevent climate change. it’s very clever, i gotta admit. 

at the end of the day, this whole framework is just a cheap trick to convince people to ignore the material reality that conflicts of interest exist in politics, by trying to claim that anyone who acknowledges conflicts of interests must view everything in terms of conflict, and then saying that the only way to avoid becoming this “conflict theorist” boogeyman is to become a “mistake theorist”, which implies an anti-democratic, anti-leftist stance.

it’s ludicrous, completely lacking in nuance, and doesn’t hold up even remotely to scrutiny. 

[spideyxchelle]

Freshman year of high school Peter Parker and Michelle Jones orbit each other as not-quite-friends but more than acquaintances. Sophomore year of high school Peter Parker and Michelle Jones become sort-of-teammates because he is crap at keeping secrets and even teenage superheroes need help. Junior year of high school Peter Parker and Michelle Jones are inseparable but not in love, no matter what everyone thinks. Senior year of high school Peter Parker and Michelle Jones dance around what college could mean for them, for their friendship. Luckily, freshman year of college is in the same city so they stop worrying about distance ruining anything. Sophomore year is much the same and they are weirdly and wonderfully happy. Junior year of college they move-in together and start dating, but, uh, not each other. Senior year of college they break up with Gwen Stacy and Harry Osborn and finally, finally get together.

This is what happens after. 

The cameras flash, insistent and scrutinizing, as Tony tries to hold his ground behind the podium. He attempts to find his voice but beyond the cameras and the endless stream of reporter’s questions his thoughts are with Peter back at base waiting for him to wake up. Tony can almost see the ruthless, bloody scratches ravaging Peter’s body and his suit torn to shreds when he looks out into the sea of lights capturing his photo. Pepper touches his arm to help him find his strength and, more importantly, his voice and he finally addresses the crowd.

“My long-time colleague and friend, Norman Osborn, was killed in a laboratory accident last night at approximately 8:35. I have not lost only a cherished friend but the world has lost a brilliant, pioneering mind. I ask, on behalf of his son Harry, that we give the Osborn’s the room and time to process their grief.” He swallows the bile and adds, “Thank you.”

The reporters immediately begin to clamor for more, more, more. A sea of inquiries wash over him as he tries to leave the stage, but one question penetrates his imaginary forcefield and stops him in his tracks.

Tony takes off his glasses and grinds his teeth, “Excuse me?”

“Mr. Stark,” the reporter repeats, “What do you have to say to the reports that Norman Osborn was killed by the Spider-Man?”

“I would say that’s nonsense. The Spider-Man is a valued member of the Avengers.”

“Yes, but,” the reporter hastily jots down Tony’s statement, “the reporter goes further to say that Norman Osborn was masked criminal the Green Goblin.”

Tony hesitates for a beat too long and the reporters descend into a flurry of chaos with lights flashing to support them. Pepper steps between Tony and the hounds and loudly states, “That will be all. Thank you.”

When the get backstage Tony’s weak knees give out and Pepper gracefully helps him to the nearest seat. His breathing comes on fast and uneven and tragically apt for his age. Pepper smooths back his increasingly gray hair and kisses the crown of his head. He shrinks into the comfort of her touch. “You,” She chastises, “are an idiot.”

“I know,” he nearly cracks.

Pepper’s face softens and she leaves a trail of kisses down his nose to his lips. “He’s going to be okay, Tony.”

“I should have listened to him,” he says. Then, smaller, he says, again, “I should have listened.”

His wife shakes her head, “You couldn’t have known Norman was the Green Goblin.”

“Peter knew,” Tony points out. “And now that kid is strapped to a hospital bed fighting for his life on some second-rate breathing tubes.”

“It’s the best medicine can buy,” she gently corrects him.

Tony stands on shaky legs, “Its not good enough.” He turns his watery eyes on Pepper, beseeching her like a child does with miles of false hope to run down. “Pep, I can’t lose him.”

Michelle Jones holds her unconscious fiancé’s hand as wheezy, unreliable machinery breathes for him. She has a puzzling crease between her eyes as she makes certain his chest continues to rise and fall, as she makes certain that Peter Parker lives for her. “Come on, baby,” she nearly spits, “Open your eyes for me.”

He doesn’t.

She runs her finger across his scratched up engagement ring. When she had given it to him seven months ago she had told him not to wear it into battle. She had reasoned that it would get all tattered and scratched up, but he had given her his signature sloppy grin and indulgently kissed her face and said, “I’m never taking this ring off, Jones. Deal with it.”

Looking at it now, she supposed it had character with all of the scratches and dents and grooves. It was as bumpy as their relationship had been and equally as precious to her.

Michelle wipes at her face with the back of her hand, “You dying isn’t going to work for me. I am not moving our couch into our new place by myself.” She chokes back tears, “What good is super-strength fiancés if they can’t move the furniture?”

She can almost imagine his laughter, then. Peter’s laughter sparkled, she had told him once. She refuses to imagine a world where she doesn’t spend an afternoon wrapped up in his arm as his laughter sparkles and dances through the room.

A knock pulls her from her ardent plea. She turns and sees Ned standing awkwardly in the too skinny door. “MJ,” Ned rings his hat anxiously in his hands, “I came as soon as I heard.”

Ned’s face has always been more open than Peter’s somehow and ten times more generous. There is not a single malicious or jealous or mean bone in Ned Leed’s body. He lives his life in the light while most people in MJ’s experience struggle in the grey hues of an unfair world. Her face breaks at the cautious optimism painted on Ned’s and he takes the two long steps to envelope her in a hug.

She buries nearly her entire body in his arms and rides out the shocking, unrelenting waves of her sobbing. “Shh,” he whispers in her hair, “It’s going to be alright.”

Harry Osborn is static electricity. He lays dormant for hours on end until he crackles to life and inflicts momentary chaos on the world around him. In the laboratory his father had left him in the night before, hours before he had met his end at the hands of Spider-Man, Harry Osborn breaks things. He breaks machines and test tubes and experiments with millionaire dollar price tags. He wrecks havoc on the four walls of the room he was left in to become an orphan. 

A brave few Osborn employees visit him every few hours in the throes of his grief. “Mister Osborn,” one tried three hours earlier, “Mister Stark is holding a press conference.”

He had thrown a computer at that man without so much of a thought about his safety.

But now he sits in front of the one still-working computer in the lab and watches Stark speak. He lies through his teeth about the Spider-Man using his status as an Avenger to shield him from justice.

Spider-Man had killed his father. Yes, he knows, Norman Osborn had not been well and the Green Goblin, the caricature that had stolen his father’s good sense, had committed atrocities but murder seemed a steep price for justice.

When Potts drags Stark off the stage to the safety of whatever titanium fortress the Avengers were protecting Spider-Man in, Harry loses control.

He catapults the computer across the room and it hits an electricity box.

In the moments before the entire lab implodes, Harry Osborn thinks of one name: Spider-Man.

It takes Peter three additional days to recover from his fight against the Green Goblin. In those days he dreams of their fight in a loop. He sees Norman grapple for control against his manic alter ego and win long enough to blow the building they were fighting in to smithereens. He remembers yelling for Karin the moment he realized what Norman intended to do and, then, nothing.

All is darkness.

When he wakes in the light, MJ is sleeping in the car beside his bed and Ned is wearily doing a crossword. His voice is scratchy from disuse, “N- ....Eh?” It is the closest thing to Ned he can manage.

It is enough because Ned’s head snaps up and he squeals in delight, “Peter?”

[suit-lady]

PS ~ A Peter Parker Story that Begins with Notes

Summary: This is a fluff piece college AU where reader and Peter are in the same English class. They start passing notes because Peter misses class one morning. And then,,,,,, a study date??? And nervous Peter???

Warnings: Swearing. The first word is a curse word. This is who I am.

Female Reader

Word Count: 2365

Part Two

Fuck.

Peter Parker woke up to the sound of his roommate’s alarm, which meant that Peter was late. He must have been too tired the night before to set his alarm. Sighing, Peter reached for his phone. He knew that Ned showered before class, so maybe he had enough time to—Nope. Class had started about ten minutes ago. There was no way, even if he could get ready in under ten minutes. Begrudgingly, he pulled his exhausted body out of bed and took his sweet time getting ready; he had almost four hours before he had to be anywhere.

Classes flew by as usual, but it seemed incredibly odd to Peter to begin his Thursday without his English literature course. In a passing thought, he hoped that he hadn’t missed anything terribly important. He really enjoyed the material in that class, so he more cared that he missed the quality discussion spurred on by the prof than actually missing any potential assignments. After all, Dr. Terrance always followed his syllabus to a T, so Peter had nothing to worry about.

Regardless, he was sure to set four (more than the usual three) alarms before going to sleep.

-

Peter hurried to get ready so that he could arrive in Dr. Terrance’s classroom early and personally apologize to him for being absent the day before, but the kind professor blew him off and offered a quick debrief if necessary. He declined but made the effort to pay twice the amount of attention in class that morning. Dr. Terrance was obviously appreciative; sometimes, talking about literature at eight o’clock in the morning just isn’t all that appealing to a bunch of eighteen-year-olds.

The bell rang before Peter even realized what time it was, but he was zapped from the classical world by a notebook plopping down on his desk. The spiral-bound book was opened to a page topped with the date and what Peter assumed to be the lecture title of the day before. In the middle of the page was a pale pink sticky note that read “Here, in case you want some half-decent notes to copy.” in your handwriting. He looked up to give a thank-you, but he had no idea who had given him the notebook in the first place.

-

Peter made sure to copy all the notes Sunday evening so that he could return the notebook to the owner before class. Making sure to get there a bit earlier than usual, he set the notebook, which was open to the same page, on the corner of his desk. He got out his sticky notes and scrawled “hey, thanks for the notes” on the pale yellow paper. Then, as an afterthought, he wrote, “your handwriting is beautiful btw” and just signed it with his initial: “-P.” Satisfied, he sat back and waited.

A girl sat in the chair to his right. Peter’s attention wasn’t drawn to you until you cautiously reached across his desk and took the notebook. After your eyes scanned over the note, you looked up at Peter with a kind smile. He smiled back at you, half being courteous, half because he couldn’t help but return a smile as pretty as that.

While you didn’t make eye contact with him for the rest of the period, you passed him another pink note right as the bell rang. You’d folded the note so that the sticky part kept the note closed. As he walked out of the classroom, he slipped the note into his pocket and didn’t read it until he was back in his dorm room. “nah, especially not my note script. Dr. Terrance talks so fast during lecture that my pencil basically flies across the page. –(Your First Initial)”

Peter spent most of the evening wondering what he should write back. He’d started the note, on a classier blue sticky note this time, but he only had “whatever. I like it” and a little emoticon face that had its tongue sticking out. Once he’d finished his homework for the evening, he gave up on coming up with anything half decent. He drew a stick figure shrugging and saying “I don’t know what else to say” in a little speech bubble. Mimicking the folds from the note he’d gotten from you, he folded the paper and placed it in his notebook for the next morning.

-

You had arrived before Peter, so he took out the note and passed it to you as nonchalantly as possible before the bell rang to begin class. He stole a glance at you as you stifled a giggle at his poor drawing skills. After class, you passed him a tightly-folded piece of notebook paper. He unfolded it, filled with curiosity, to find that you’d doodled a little caricature of him during lecture. Underneath, in faux calligraphy, read “Peter Parker”. He was surprised to see his name; this girl that he’d barely looked at before knew who he was. Taking out his notebook, he began to pen a note much longer than any you two had shared thus far.

-

He had to wait until Thursday before he could give you the note (no class on Wednesday), and received a long letter in return at the end of class on Friday. In the letter, you told him all about yourself. You started with your name, your favorite color, and a few other random things. You told him what your major was and what you dreamed about doing after college. Then, you wrote about how to spent time outside of the classroom. Lastly, you said you knew who he was because, according to you, “everyone knows Peter Parker, super smart kid with great humor.” He took it as a compliment.

He wrote a letter over the weekend telling you that he was Peter Parker, even though you already knew that. His favorite color was tied between red and blue, but he might like blue just a tiny bit more on cloudless summer afternoons. While at college, he was studying physics, but he hadn’t really decided what he wanted to do after graduation yet. He spent a lot of time doing nerdy things with his best friend and roommate Ned, like having sci-fi movie marathons or building the newest LEGO sets. He ended the letter with a short apology for not knowing who you were.

-

There was a new spring in Peter’s step as he walked to class on Monday. Over the weekend, he’d learned all about the girl who sat next to him in his English class, and he took some time on Saturday to go to the city and fight a little bit of extra crime. Being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man in a college town wasn’t all that exciting; he ended up mostly protecting defenseless young women from creepy assholes at frat parties. While it was rewarding, Peter was always itching for something more. He and Ned would hang out in Chicago on available weekends, taking down all sorts of baddies that weren’t expecting any sort of superhero to be there to stop them.

He handed you the note as soon as he sat down in class and watched you from the corner of his eye as you carefully put the note in your bookbag. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth: he was more than happy to see that you wanted to keep the note both safe and away from your prying eyes. After that, English was thoroughly uneventful, but confusing for Peter. For some reason, he just kept stealing glances at this girl. You’d captivated him; Peter refused to admit it, but he was done for.

That evening, Ned finally couldn’t take it anymore. Peter had been super jittery for straight up a week and a half, and had kept it from Ned. “What’s going on with you?” Ned asked the first time he saw Peter smiling at the ceiling.

“I met a girl,” Peter said definitively, like that was that.

“Okay… Details? What’s she like?”

“Well, actually, she can tell you about herself,” Peter said ambiguously as he pulled your most recent note out of his bag.

Ned read over the letter and encouraged his friend to go for you. “She seems really nice. You ask her out yet?”

Peter coughed awkwardly. “We’ve actually never spoken before. She let me borrow her English notes that day I missed class, and we’ve been writing notes to each other since then.” He pulled out the few other notes he had from you as proof.

“Dude,” Ned said as he shook his head, “you’ve gotta use your words, buddy. She sounds great, and you obviously like her. Are you really just gonna let her slip through your fingers? You realize it’s the end of the semester and you might never have a class with her ever again, right? This university is pretty damn big, Peter.”

Peter’s eyes widened. He hadn’t thought of that. “I’ll ask her the next chance I get.”

-

The next day in class, however, he was too nervous to actually talk to you. His voice got all caught up in his throat, and he felt like he’d been chewing on cotton balls all morning. Sighing as he sat, he decided he’d ask you for dinner the next time it was his turn to give you a note… Thursday. He was so busy contemplating how he wanted to ask that the bell made him jump. When he heard a giggle coming from his right, and saw you covering your mouth, your shoulders shaking. Dr. Terrance had already begun speaking, so you mouthed a quick “sorry for laughing” before paying attention to the prof for the rest of the period. Peter was so embarrassed that he didn’t notice your return letter until almost halfway through the lecture.

The letter said that you were glad to know more about Peter Parker other than that he was a nice and funny guy in your English class. You made a comment about how pretty the skies had been now that the rainy April weather was clearing up and the temperature was getting warmer. You said that you loved studying outside and invited Peter to study with you the next day. You ended the letter typically with your initial, but, underneath, you had written a PS: “text me with a yes or no so that I can tell you where I study x” with your number underneath.

Peter crashed through the door of his dorm room shouting, “NED!”

“What? Did you do it?” excitedly came Ned’s reply from his position at his desk.

“Well, sort of.” A quick pause. “No, not really.”

“What the fuck, Peter.”

“No, no! It’s still great! She asked me to study with her tomorrow!”

“She did?” Ned jumped up and hurried over to where Peter was still standing…in the open doorway.

Peter enthusiastically gestured to the letter and handed it over for Ned to read. As he read, Peter shut the door and began pacing around the room. What was he gonna say? Which subject should he take to study? Differential Equations, to show that he was ahead in math? Or should he take his Spanish homework, to show that he was working on becoming bilingual? Should he even worry this much about impressing you? What if you—

Peter’s thoughts were interrupted when Ned asked, “So did you text her?”

“Oh my God.”

“You idiot. Text her right now,” Ned scorned, returning the letter to Peter.

He texted you, “hey, it’s Peter! I’d love to study together tomorrow!”

You replied within minutes, “Great! I usually sit on the hill by the lake. I bring a picnic blanket, so don’t worry about having something to sit on.”

He texted back something about that sounding lovely, and the smile didn’t leave his face for the rest of the afternoon.

-

The next morning, he picked out a tee shirt that he figured would make you laugh. The shirt had a picture of iron’s chemical symbol and the word “MAN” underneath it. When he was going to be spending time with Mr. Stark, he was always sure to pack that one. He picked out dark jeans and grey sneakers and was out the door.

The late spring sun was hotter than Peter expected, and his black shirt absorbed a lot of heat. His pace quickened, as he worried about sweating too much before greeting the girl from his English class for the first time. He saw you sitting alone on the hill, reading a thick novel of some kind, your face mostly hidden by a large straw sunhat. He took the opportunity to sneak up on you (maybe cheating a bit using his super stealthy spider skills).

“Hi there!”

You jumped a little, earning an accomplished chuckle from Peter. “Oh, hello. I didn’t hear you walk up. Make yourself comfortable anywhere.”

Peter did so, and the two of you sat in a lovely silence as you read and Peter worked on his DE homework. On the way out the door, he’d decided to go with impressive advanced math. You, however, were too invested in what you were reading to really notice what he was doing at all. He listened to music as he worked, but left one earbud out in case you wanted to talk to him ever. After about half an hour of holding his breath every time you turned the page, of waiting for you to say something, he couldn’t help himself anymore.

“Do you maybe want to go out for dinner Friday night?” he blurted, a little too loudly and a little too high-pitched. Fuck. He hadn’t realized just how nervous he was.

You laughed, a beautiful sound, and looked over at him, saying, “That was a bit sudden.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, much quieter, beginning to backtrack, “you just seem so sweet and funny and lovely and I’d really be—”

“Peter,” you said, cutting him off, “I’d love to.”

You both turned your blushing faces away from each other, both afraid the other would see, and worked in happy silence for the rest of the afternoon.