#if you have an affair while he's alive and they divorce and you marry her. that's incest! and your father in law will be waiting

[sforzesco]

"In some such families, brothers practiced what is known as temporary marriages, where several brothers would marry a single wife, who would bear heirs to all of them in turn. While the Roman ideology of the univira, a woman's devotion to one husband, seems at odds with the practice of temporary marriage, the way Crassus stepped into his brother's marriage suggests that his family may have opted to allow only two sons to marry in order to secure the family's future. When his brother died, Crassus took the opportunity to move from uncle to husband, a move that may have served his own interests as well as fraternal pietas."

[The brothers of Romulus: fraternal Pietas in Roman law, literature, and society by Bannon, Cynthia Jordan]

@p-clodius-pulcher showed me this crazy quote, wherein "his family may have opted to allow only two sons to marry" made me go "so you are saying in a later era, Crassus would be a priest".

OHHHH THIS IS DELICIOUS. every discussion revolving around Crassus' marriage to his sister-in-law is so so fun. we have archaic traditions & obligations, there's the matter of keeping the dowry in the family (which in turn lends to a fun exploration of the economy at the time, wrt to crassus' father's policy making), & combined together, there's something to be said for the reasoning that the brother-sister marriage records of roman egypt may have had more to do with keeping property in the family.

but now with fraternal pietas? HELLO!! new things to think about. I'm going to unpack this with a magnifying glass.

[queen-paladin]

disclaimer: yes, I am complaining about cheating in media. Because, yes, writers have the freedom to create what they want but if the morality in creation is free for all forms of media, but no piece of art is exempt from criticism, and that includes criticism on personal moral grounds. I betcha if I said Harry Potter is good, actually, everyone on here would flood my blog telling me I am wrong because of the author's intense prejudice. That being said, I am criticizing cheating in fiction, If you don't like that, don't interact

So often lately I see period dramas where the husband cheats on the wife (ex. Poldark, The Essex Serpent, Queen Charlotte, The Great)...and not only do I despise the cheating trope with every fibre of my being to where I get panic attacks when I consume the media...but specifically with period dramas...

Do these writers not understand the greater implications of a husband cheating on a wife during these periods? More than just the humiliation and heartbreak in the case of a loving, good marriage just like it is today.

In the Western world, probably until certain laws were enacted in the 1900's, if a woman married a man, she was legally his property. She had no legal identity under him. She was financially dependent on him. Any wages she made would automatically go to her husband. Her children were also not legally her children- they belonged to the father. If the husband died, even if the wife was still alive, the children were legally considered orphans.

Women could only rarely gain a divorce from their husbands. In England in the mid-1800's specifically, if a wife divorced a husband she had to prove he had to not only cheat but also be physically abusive, incestuous, or commit bestiality. On the other hand, a husband could divorce a wife just for being unfaithful. Because, kids, there were sexual double standards.

Getting married was often the endgame for a lot of women during that time. Sometimes you couldn't make your own living enough- marriage was a way to secure your entire future financially, with more than enough money to get by. If you were a spinster and middle class, you could get by with a job. But if you are an upper-class lady, the one thing a lady does not do is get a job and work. So upper-class spinsters basically were dependent on their families to get by (ex. Anne Elliott in Persuasion faces this with her own toxic family). As strange as it sounded today, marriage gave them some freedom to go about since a husband could be persuaded sometimes more easily than a father and one had a different home, their servants, etc. A husband was your foundation entirely for being a part of society, and standing up as your own woman.

So if a husband cheated on a wife, that was a threat to take all of that away.

He could give a lot of money that could be used to support his wife and children to the mistress. He could completely abandon said wife for the mistress. And since the wife legally couldn't get a job as he still lived, she would be dependent on any money he would said- and that is IF he sent over any money.

He could take her to court and publicly humiliate her to get a divorce away from her (look up the separation of Charles and Kate Dickens, he would call her mentally ill and say her cooking was bad and that she was having more children than they could keep up with all while having an affair and divorcing her to be with the misteress). And even if the wife was the nicest, more proper, goodest, more rule-abiding never-keeping-a-toe-out-of-line lady in town...as a man, the law was default on his side (look up Caroline Norton's A Letter to the Queen which details exactly that, the poor woman had her earnings as a writer taken by her husband and was denied access to her children from said husband)

So yeah...even if there was "no love" between them (and anytime the wife is portrayed as too boring or too bitchy so He HaS tO cHeAt is brought up is...pretty victim blamey)

So yeah. Period drama writers, if you have the husband have an affair ...just consider the reality of these things and address them, maybe punish the husband for once (*gasp* men facing consequences for their actions?!?!!), and if not, just please find other options and other tropes and devices for once.

[pocketramblr]

Absolutely love your writing for all the AU/5 headcanons asks. Can I ask: AU where Rei cheats on Endeavor with All Might? It happens after AM's injury, so she doesn't recognize him, and he ofc doesn't know that she's married in the first place, much less to whom

you make this very difficult for me by giving me a window of 6 and half years for them to have an affair and for every single moment of that window, Rei is institutionalized. how am i supposed to get them to meet, much less take their clothes off. ok. think. there are other fic writers who specialize in this kind of thing, surely. what would they do....

1- ok so. The fire alarm at the hospital goes off. Rei doesn't know if it's a drill or not, but she's been there for seven years and generally does not need a lot of support during something like this like other patients do, so the nurses wave her out and she stands around outside a bit waiting for the fire alarm to stop and them to go back in. (It isn't a drill, they wouldn't have evacuated everyone if it was, but Rei is on the other side of the building and facing away from seeing any smoke) (This smoke is from a villain attack that All Might is taking care of, though he's only got seconds left of his power to use that day. he quickly rushes off, deflating and stumbling out on the other side of the hospital. Where Rei is.)

2- Rei is like "huh that guy doesnt seem to be in good shape" and kinda waves attention at him, and a nurse who's passing out water to patients and keeping an eye on the road gives Toshinori some too, getting more concerned when he dazedly answers that he's All Might and coughs up blood, but the nurse figures he's concussed since he smells of smoke and must have been closer to the fight, and is just reeling from being able to see the number one hero in person. Then they get distracted and wave Toshi to wait nearby, where Rei offers to chill his water and asks if he's alright, if he breathed in any smoke.

3- They chat and then go back into the hospital as it's un-evacuated together, Rei hanging out in the lobby where he sits as the hospital staff focus on getting everyone else back to their rooms. It pays to be low priority sometimes. Eventually she tells him her name is Rei and that she's in room K18, if he ever wants to visit or call. She doesn't get to talk to anyone except doctors, family visitors, or other paitients, and most of them don't stay nearly as long as she does. It's been seven years, and she's very lonely. Toshinori is lonely too, and when he's out of time for a day and feeling useless with nothing to do, he likes to talk to a friend.

4- Rei has been in the hospital for eight years when it gets physical. At that point, Toshinori knows a bit about her family. She has kids, mentions visits from a son and daughter, and then quietly mentioned when her son turned seventeen- her daughter's already twenty. She's been there for so much of their lives. He asks if she's married, and she admits she isn't sure how to file for divorce in a hospital like she is, if she even can, if she wants to because she'd lose custody, if it matters when she's not raising them anyway. He doesn't ask much more, knows there is a dead child and a baby she says isn't safe with her there. Toshinori never called Nana 'mom' to her face while she was alive, and had a reason for it, and has a similar reason for not asking more, not asking for the other names when he gets Fuyumi and Natsuo's. Yes, the doctors and nurses all know Rei has a boyfriend who visits. they don't say anything. who would they even tell, anyway. I debated the humor of reusing the bit from candlelight shoto that Toshi and Rei could have a kid with a fire quirk, but yeah here? Rei ain't getting pregnant, absolutely not.

5- When Natsuo turns eighteen, Rei does actually file for divorce, or at least tries to get the ball rolling on that. Toshinori's trusted her that her marriage is over in all but name, but he's more at ease with it ended fully. Fuyumi is crushed but burying it all deep inside. Natsuo is like 'what are you talking about. divorce is the most normal possible outcome here.' But anyway, Rei also begins to bring up being discharged- something she never bothered with earlier, when it seemed like she'd never be able to go home while Shoto was there, and never would want to go back anyway. (Her parents are absolutely not an option either so where would she go once discharged? the hospital was her only security.) Toshinori then tells her at this point about his diagnosis, that he's supposed to be terminal, in a way. He doesn't have a lot of time he can give her. Rei says that's ok, she'll take what she can get. She moves in. Fuyumi still goes out to eat with her once a week, though Rei doesn't say she's moved in with a boyfriend, just says she's in a safe place and it's not Fuyumi's job to worry about it, please, let her do that, relax, be her daughter instead of a mother. Natsuo adds her to his cellphone plan and gets her one. Rei doesn't tell Toshinori her ex's identity. Toshinori doesn't tell her about OfA, though she does know he's mentoring a student for heroics and is very proud of him. (Toshinori is a secretary at Might Tower, he's a great mentor. Oh huh, he got a job position at UA at the same time as All Might, she wonders if they carpool.)

+1- OK THE REVEAL so the reveal is. Toshinori gets home from the SF. And Rei almost knocks him out by the door, eyes wide and panicked, asking if he's ok, if Shoto's ok. Toshinori is like "... young todoroki? yeah he's alright? i know his fight with young bakugo looked bad but- Rei???" And that's when it all clicks for him, he's having dozens of horrible realizations at once, all while Rei weeps over her youngest. Toshinori's been a hero for a very, very long time. He's felt hopeless, before. But even then, he's known what needs to be done, he just isn't able to do it. But now? he's at a complete loss with no idea what he should do.

[leiflitter]

ghost!chorus- Venetia reacts to (your choice of) CH39 intro with Felix crying and Ollie comforting him; CH42 with Felix and Farleigh and Felix and Lucia; or CH44 Felix tells the kids about Lucia’s affair? tysm!!!

OKAY so these sorta got mushed together with a general uh… Ghost!Vee perspective, but it’s fun so let’s go~

Perhaps it was, well, being dead, but with hindsight… It was honestly amazing that it had taken Felix this long to find out. Oh, yeah, he and Lucia had been spiraling slowly towards divorce before they were even married, but it was so obvious… Or maybe it was just that walls didn't mean much to her any more, and Venetia'd wandered into Farleigh's room the first night he'd shown up. Paying her cousin a visit had led to way too much information, thank you very much, and she’d been giving the little shit a wide berth ever since. She hadn’t cottoned on while she was alive, at least, because if she had… But there was no point in being vindictive. She’d tear Farleigh a new one when he shuffled off the mortal coil and showed up here.

For the time being, it was initially far more fun to hang around Felix. It was what she normally did, when she was focused on the living. He'd been crying a lot, when she'd first crossed over. It had only seemed fair to comfort him; mum and dad were preoccupied with spectral dinners and parties and hobnobbing with Cattons Long Past. He was all by himself now, he needed her in the same way he’d needed her after he overdosed- it wasn’t Venetia’s fault that he couldn’t sense her. She’d sat beside him, pretending to stroke his hair and ignoring the way her fingers slipped through him as if he was liquid. Thicker than air but impossible to get a grip on. She’d read, somewhere, that you can’t actually feel wetness, that it was a weird collaborative illusion courtesy of the senses, but she didn’t have a physical body any more, so... What did it matter? Felix was distinctly soggy, and his moping had been starting to verge on boring.

She’d been a hair off of leaving him to it- maybe she’d hold out til after Christmas, maybe not- when things had taken a turn for the interesting. Felix had stopped crying, distracted by his phone, and what do you know? Vee had peered over his shoulder as soon as she noticed the change in him, from morose to giggly, and surprise! Her brother was texting incoherent, mushy messages to Oliver fucking Quick, squirming as he waited for a reply like a tween with a crush. Heart emojis and I love you, practically kicking his feet and twirling his hair. Oliver, returning? There wasn’t any point in wondering how the fuck he’d resurfaced; from her current position, it seemed inevitable. That summer had changed them all, and Oliver had been the catalyst. Of course he’d pop up again when everything had gone to shit. He could probably sense it, like a shark. At least, given her spectral condition, she wasn’t going to be their collateral damage any more; besides, she had to admit it was fun. It was basically a soap opera, after all, Venetia an intangible witness to her idiot brother happily smashing his life to bits. 

She'd even been watching them as they fumbled about. It was highly unimpressive, if she was honest, they kissed like they were trying to lick each other’s ears from the inside, but at least they were having fun. Yet it also showed that Oliver had changed. He wasn’t posturing the way he had with her; he’d had the audacity to grow up. Venetia had been expecting… Well… Ollie. The Oliver who’d sidled down those stairs towards her, as suave as a teenage boy in a borrowed suit could be. He’d tasted her blood, and she’d gotten off mostly on the taboo and how public it was, but it had been stupid to think he could be anything other than Felix’s property. He ought to have FRC written on the sole of his foot, like Woody in Toy Story, it was so blatant. This small, sensible man in the boring clothes was nothing much to look at, but he was still so devoted to her brother that it verged on pathetic. It would have been so pitiable, if Felix hadn’t gone off the deep end and kept on making increasingly poor decisions. 

Horribly, though, she had to admit that they seemed happy. It was fucking annoying, watching Felix fall in love as if he were some beleagured Disney princess rather than an adult man with a wife and children… But his wife wasn’t faithful, and she’d heard the pain in his sobs as he realized that his children may not be fully his. Venetia couldn’t have waited with baited breath- she didn’t need to breathe, after all, although she mimicked it reflexively- but she’d been wound so tight just watching. Waiting for Oliver to reveal his snakey little plan, to tell Felix to leave them, be with him, that the kids didn’t matter… 

Until he didn’t. 

What was his plan? 

Venetia wasn’t sure, but she stayed close, trying to piece it together. Oliver was consistent, she’d give him that, but all of his talk about doing it right for the kids just didn’t seem… Like him. He was a liar, he had to lie, but what was the angle? 

It hurt to consider that there might not be one. 

It had hurt to hear his confession, that he’d responded to her dangling herself like bait because of Felix and her mother’s casual cruelty. Venetia had already known it, of course, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting; so much so that she’d tried her best to appear before the both of them that evening as they tangled up in each other, vengeful and pointing, but had given up when Harriet cockblocked them far more effectively. 

It also hurt to look at them. The youth returning to their faces, despite the deeper creases around eyes and mouth. They hadn’t aged poorly, not at all, but it was bitter to see her brother grow younger. She’d be young forever, but nobody she truly cared about could appreciate it. It was bitter to think that Felix would grow old with someone, be in love and so sickening, and they’d show up here one day having shown her everything she’d never been able to find. They’d found extra reserves of life, hidden within how grossly soppy they were, and it felt like every slice of birthday cake she’d politely refused. 

The real Felix was back after a hiatus, back to devouring life by the fistful, and Venetia had watched him but never been brave enough to follow his example and gorge herself. 

Yet she’d watched. Waited. Hovered in the background, watching Oliver Quick hold her brother and comfort him- her job- and saw the looks they exchanged and heard the quiet conversations. Sat in the window seat while Felix and Oliver made muffled, animal sounds on the sofa bed. Mostly Venetia wondered if she ought to just… Go to where the others were. Slide away from the physical world into the endless summer of Saltburn After, join all of those accumulated souls in the whirl of parties and petty squabbling.

But she just wanted to be sure. Be there. Be part of it. She lurked around with Farleigh as he muttered and coughed in the cold, waiting for Felix to notice him. A shame that he didn’t notice her; she’d done her best to berate him, tried to lob a shoe at his head, but it was hard to keep up the energy when your audience didn’t react and your missiles didn’t connect… Then Felix was, as ever, about as capable of holding a grudge as a goldfish was at algebra. She’d tried to hold her nieces and nephew as Felix delivered the news of Lu’s bad behavior as deftly as a boot to the crotch, but it had been an exercise in frustration. She couldn’t stand passing through people; it was too much of a reminder of what she was, but she let her fingers ghost through Ru’s curls and tried to feel love at him. 

She’d seen the look on Oliver’s face when Lu confronted him. Blank, devoid of emotion, and oddly enough… That had helped her turn a mental corner. Set it into place.

Oliver was telling the truth. He didn’t lie these days, but honesty could be just as caustic. 

She sat, heavily, on the blue bed, watching them. Her brother was between Oliver’s legs, but that was hardly impressive. He sounded like a posh bulldog, panting away, and they hadn’t even gotten their boxers off yet. Idiots. They couldn’t even fuck tastefully, and she was trying to be maudlin. 

“Oh, fuck off.” 

Felix had shoved his stupid foot through her stomach, and that was- frankly- more than enough for Venetia. She’d come back tomorrow. 

“Just you wait, Felix Catton. Once you get here, it’s over for you.”   

[percabeth4life]

I’m sorry if this is a repeat, I have no clue if I sent this in before or not, but what is Aphrodite and Hephaestus’s relationship like, according to the myths and such?

It varies honestly. Like- from a lot of fragments we know he won Aphrodite as a wife by freeing Hera from the trap he made for her (and Aphrodite did agree to wed the one who did so, but supposedly she believed it would be Ares who succeeded).

There's some myths that show them as enjoying time together quite a bit

Apollonius Rhodius, Argonautica 1. 850 ff : "Kypris [Aphrodite], the goddess of desire, had done her sweet work in their hearts [and mated the visiting Argonauts with the widowed women of Lemnos]. She wished to please Hephaistos, the great Artificer, and save his isle of Lemnos from ever lacking men again . . . The whole city [of Lemnos] was alive with dance and banquet. The scent of burnt-offerings filled the air; and of all the immortals, it was Hera's glorious son Hephaistos and Kypris [Aphrodite] herself whom their songs and sacrifices were designed to please."

But in contrast she was definitely with Ares

Homer, Odyssey 8. 267 ff (trans. Shewring) (Greek epic C8th B.C.) : "Demodokos [the Phaiakian bard] struck his lyre and began a beguiling song about the loves of Ares and Aphrodite, how first the lay together secretly in the dwelling of Hephaistos. Ares had offered many gifts to the garlanded divinity and covered with shame the marriage bed of Lord Hephaistos. But Helios (the sun-god) had seen them in their dalliance and hastened away to tell Hephaistos; to him the news was bitter as gall, and he made his way towards his smithy, brooding revenge.

And they were shamed for it as "ill deeds never prosper"

I do find it interesting, as a side note, that Poseidon actually advocated strongly to Hephaistos to free Ares, and even offered to pay Ares' debt to Heaphaistos.

Continuing, though there are stories a plenty of their time, an awful lot of what we have actually comes from the Roman era. While these stories are undoubtedly at least partially based in older tellings, we seem to be missing a fair few...

However, in the Odyssey, they actually get divorced.

Homer, Odyssey 8. 267 ff (trans. Shewring) (Greek epic C8th B.C.) : Come, Father Zeus; come, all you blessed immortals with him; see what has happened here . . . You will see the pair of lovers now as they lie embracing in my bed; the sight of them makes me sick at heart. Yet I doubt their desire to rest there longer, fond as they are. They will soon unwish their posture there; but my cunning chains shall hold them both fast till her father Zeus has given me back all the betrothal gifts I bestowed on him for his wanton daughter; beauty she has, but no sense of shame.’"

This line is basically: give me back the betrothal gifts (so we're no longer together).

Notably, in the Iliad Hephaistos is married to Aglaia, rather than Aphrodite.

Pseudo-Apollodorus and Nonnus, Dionysiaca also mention that they divorced. They don't use the words divorce, but they are clearly separated and no longer considered together.

So, they had at least a period of time together, but as Aphrodite loved Ares (whom she'd wanted to marry) they had an affair which ended the marriage with Hephaistos.

Some mythos also mentions that he cursed Harmonia, daughter born of the Aphrodite and Ares affair, but I need to do more research on the origins of this mythos as the sources I've found are both Roman era.

Hope this answers your question!

[zutaralesbian]

Hi Danielle! 54 + 56 please? 💖

Thank you Calli!

54. Mickey’s mom is alive

56. Ian is close to Clayton

So I had to do a lot of thinking on this one. Ultimately, what I came up with is this: An AU where Monica and Clayton’s affair was exposed very early on and in response, Clayton decided to gain custody of Ian as a baby. (I know the idea of Ian not growing up with the other Gallagher siblings hurts but hear me out).

So Clayton raises Ian on the richy north side. And on the surface, Ian’s life is pretty great. He loves his father, his half-siblings, and even his stepmother treats him like one of her own despite the messiness of how he was conceived. But deep down, Ian grows up thinking there’s something different about him…like he doesn’t quite fit in with the very normal (and kind of boring) lifestyle that his family leads. He knows about Monica’s existence and that he has half siblings that live on the south side, but Clayton is pretty cagey with details about Monica and keeps Ian sheltered from that side of his family. But that doesn’t stop Ian from being curious about it.

Everything comes into a head when a new family moves in across the street from them when Ian is around fourteen.

Laura Milkovich returns to Chicago when Mickey and Mandy are around sixteen and fourteen respectively. (I have a HC that Mickey and Mandy are full siblings that look like their mother with their dark hair/blue eye coloring while the rest of the Milkoviches had a different mother). Finally clean from having completed years of rehab and now happily engaged to a wealthy man. Using her fiancé’s money, she fights to obtain an official divorce from Terry and to gain custody of Mickey and Mandy, eventually succeeding. She and her fiancé marry and move with Mickey and Mandy to the north side.

Mickey and Mandy’s relationship with Laura is initially complicated. They still resent her for leaving them with Terry for as long as she did. And they now feel like fish out of water in this new north side life she’s put them in. As fucked up as it was, they miss the south side in a way because it was all they knew.

And then they meet the kid across the street.

Mickey, Mandy, and Ian surprisingly become fast friends. There’s something rough and adventurous about Ian that makes him more fun for Mickey and Mandy to be around than any of the other yuppies in their north side neighborhood. And Mickey and Mandy represent the excitement that Ian has always secretly longed for. They go on misadventures together and grow closer. (Ian and Mickey obviously eventually realizing that their feelings for each other aren’t just platonic). Mickey and Mandy eventually help Ian sneak out and finally meet the other Gallaghers. Ian helps Mickey and Mandy grow to understand Laura better (and that she was a victim of Terry in her own way too). Along with the Gallavich romance, there’d also be a lot of family and friendship angst and exploration in this idea.

[teddyonbumblr]

Rewatching some early Ninjago and genuinely. I don't understand why Wusako is a thing in the show, I just don't get it. Its one of the most unnecessary plot points and really just didnt need to happen. I'm very opinionated on this part of season 2 because it's quite literally an integral part to TWO of my favorite characters in the early seasons. The early love triangle was ok, you can have it. Just don't keep it going after marriage? And sure, if Wu and Misako got together during Garmadon's banishment that's fine too I suppose, I mean he was sentenced to LEGO hell, someone had to have thought him dead after so long. But I think the real reason why I hate Wusako so much is because of the dark island episode. Ya know, the one where Garmadon looses the evil persona in the presence of his wife, where he's clearly shown to be in love with her still? The whole episode is my main reason for not being able to stand it. And especially when Wu and Misako are supposed to be written as very good people who are kind but then they go and have this affair? Even when Wu knows Garmadon is still alive? I mean after Garmadon is purified, the two go back to being married. Misako in Corridor of Elders says that she's in love with him, but when he's taken to the Cursed Realm, she bounces right back to Wu. I guess their bounce back could have been justified with The Letter but even THAT plot point is unnecessary and makes no sense. The Letter is whole other topic because Misako quite literally studies writings for a living, she should have known that the letter was from Wu if she had been writing to both brothers for so long. And if the letter was THAT important, they could have just said that Garmadon had re-written it, so there isn't two sets of hand-writing on the paper. Its so stupid that I remember I'm watching a show made for kids. I don't think I'd mind it so much if the writers just had them be divorced the whole time and call it after banishment. It's not a fun watch and it ruined Wu for me for a LONG while before I got to season 7 and the oni triology. I think the writers kinda ditched the two after season 5 which is a win for me. It still sucks though because Misako is kind of a bare bones character. Despite everything she has going for her, she really doesn't do much, so the cheating arc is like one of the only big things she's ever done. I'll always plug my ears to Wusako and run away but it's really hard to when its plastered ALL over her wiki section. Ik this isn't even a hot take but it's something that I really think was a terrible move on the writers part and something I can't under the purpose of.

[ssweeterthanfiction]

OMG THE MARRIED READER/MARRIED BILLY THING WAS MINES. can i just add more pain … lol. like during these affairs she finds out camila is pregnant. i think that would also be a motivation for her cutting ties with him. billy is so fucking lost in himself at times, so lost in their moments he can’t think straight. reader couldn’t handle it, the idea she could be causing emotional stress to someone whose carrying. it makes her feel sick. guilty, even. made her realize for the first time her actions will affect others (in this instance.)

but also could you imagine a scenario in which her husband didn’t croak it. like let’s say they both still have their spouses and they keep seeing each other. the tension! because regardless of her husband retiring he still has eyes at the office. i can imagine one scenario in which there’s a big “family” dinner the company has. and by then theyre knee deep into the affair, and billy and reader are at her house with everyone LMAO. and god they can’t stop being stupid and giggling like idiots and staring at each other. and everyone’s just confused or put off by their behavior. later on (let’s say it’s a beach front.) they all kind of disburse around the house or out to the beach. i imagine reader a billy sneak off and they skinny dip or just stargaze.

things get emotional and they talk abt their marriages. reader says she thinks she’s gonna divorce her husband and billy WHIPS his head around. he’s like what??! she doesn’t see the big deal, and then it kind of leads to billy’s marriage. she doesn’t know what to expect but she’s needy, she needs him. this is the most she’s ever felt alive.

billy ofc is committed to camila, always will be. she feels absolutely sick at this thought, it aches so badly. and the conversation kind of trails off into random stuff again, more lighthearted things, easier things. but there’s this digging feeling in her chest like this moment won’t last forever. or it will be one of the few moments like this they’ll share in a while. so ofc desperate times call for desperate measures, she kisses him. she kisses him with so much urgency he’s surprised but instantly pulls her in, it leads to more… well more intimate things. things reader won’t ever be able to forget. it’s also almost like billy felt the same way… that this would be a very special moment, a moment that they might not have ever again.

and years from them reader still thinks about it, even as she has a shiny new ring on her finger, even as she sits across from billy, camila and the band at one of their company dinners. - 🫧

THIS IS TOO PERFECT OMG

the way i can’t like even think of how to explain/expand it more cause ITS JUSG SO FMDNDNDNSMJDJDN

BUT OMG 🫧 LITERALLY LOVE U AND UR ASKS ISTG

[mariacallous]

FIRST SOCIALITE (HUSBAND): “I can’t read this thing!” (Tossing aside Truman Capote’s magazine excerpt from his forthcoming novel Answered Prayers.)

SECOND SOCIALITE (WIFE): “But dar­ling, you must read all of it. If you don’t, we won’t have anything to talk to anybody about.”

The above exchange actually oc­curred, but as often happens with popular hot controversies, the princi­pals prefer not to be identified, even after telling the tale on themselves. The social stakes are too high. Being on the wrong side in one of these tempests in a teabag could be fatal. What if Kitty Miller never invites you again … or “Swifty” Lazar hangs up on you … or the Bill Paleys hear you didn’t step over the line at what has now become the Smart Set’s own Alamo? Or what if Truman Capote prevails and comes out on top? What if he writes a sequel that tells even more?

Staying alive and well in society means never zigging when you should zag.

“Whoever gossips to you will gossip of you,” goes the old Spanish proverb, and this one came home to roost for the International Set’s crème de la crème with the publication in the No­vember Esquire of Capote’s “La Côte Basque 1965” — the “tail” of the long­-awaited “kite” called Answered Pray­ers that is the writer’s next major work of fiction.

Society’s sacred monsters at the top have been in a state of shock ever since. Never have you heard such gnashing of teeth, such cries for re­venge, such shouts of betrayal and screams of outrage. Well, anyway, not since Marcel Proust flattered his way into the salons of the Faubourg St. Germain and then retired to a cork­-lined room to create a masterpiece, re­calling the details of the Baron de Mon­tesquiou’s “preciosities” and rendering him into the “Baron de Charlus,” setting down the vivid details of a world of le gratin where the rich see only one another.

What did Capote write that so en­raged so many? Oh, just everything he ever heard whispered, shouted, or bruited about — the same kind of sto­ries that have been wafting among the fine French furniture crowd since Maury Paul first saw the Blue Book dining out on Thursday and coined the phrase “Cafe Society.”

“La Côte Basque 1965” is a 13,000-word story about a luncheon between “Lady Ina Coolbirth,” a 40-ish multi­ple divorcée on the rebound from an affair with a Rothschild, and the inno­cent narrator, “Jonesy,” at Henri Soule’s exclusive Manhattan restaurant. While drinking Champagne and eating a souf­flé Furstenberg, “Lady Ina” gossips about the International Set, telling one “no-no” after another on one and all, including herself. Capote has peopled his story with real persons, using their real names as well as with a number of other real persons, using fake names. The most shocking of “Lady Ina’s” send­-ups are the stories about Cole Porter putting the make on an Italian waiter called “Dixie,” the one about “the governor’s wife” and her sordid sexual put-down of the climbing Jewish tycoon “Sidney Dillon,” and the histoire of trashy “Ann Hopkins,” who tricked a blue blood into marriage, then mur­dered him after he got the goods on her and threatened divorce.

Other naughty things in the story are the opening dirty joke … the bad breath of Arturo (Lopez Wilshaw) … the duch­ess of Windsor never picking up a check … Maureen Stapleton’s nervous collapse … Carol Matthau’s dirty mouth … Princess Margaret’s dislike of “poufs” … Gloria Vanderbilt’s failure to recognize her first husband … Oona O’Neill fluffing off the boyish J.D. Sal­inger … Joe Kennedy having his way with an 18-year-old school chum of his daughter’s … “Sidney Dillon” and his womanizing and social climbing .. . “Cleo Dillon” loving only herself .. how the famous TV comic “Bobby Baxter” goes off with a hooker and his pushy wife, “Jane,” has the last laugh … the weird young movie cutie who marries the son, then the father, only to find herself divorced because of a German shepherd … Lee Radziwill coming off better looking than Jackie Kennedy, who resembles “a female im­personator” … the love affairs of “Lady Ina,” how much she needs a man, and her envy of the domestic bliss of two attractive lesbians who reside in Santa Fe, “the dyke capital of the United States.”

Capote insists that the gossipmonger­ing central character, “Lady Ina Cool­birth,” is strictly an invention — but friends of Lady (“Slim”) Keith, Pame­la Harriman, Carol Portago, and Fleur Cowles are all nevertheless incensed. “Well,” sniffs Truman, “let them all martyr and identify themselves if they like … let them hang from the cross claiming they’re hurt … those who want to say they are models, that’s up to them!”

Other characters in “LCB ’65” are so thinly disguised as to be seen through tissue paper clearly — among them “Ann Hopkins,” undoubtedly representing Mrs. William Woodward Jr., who killed herself on October 10, seven days before Esquire hit the stands, and “the governor’s wife,” said to be the late Marie Harriman.

Many other names were dropped, some in passing, some to devastating effect. John Hersey has said that “the final test of a work of art is not whether it has beauty, but whether it has pow­er.” But try telling that to the friends of the late Cole Porter, or Maureen Stapleton, Elsie Woodward, Josh and Nedda Logan, Johnny Car­son, “Babe” Paley and her powerful husband, Bill. (I remarked to Truman that I didn’t know that his now ex-friend Mr. Paley had ever been an “ad­viser to presidents,” as “Sidney Dillon” is described in the piece. Truman just grinned and said, “I didn’t either.”)

Everybody written about in “LCB ‘65” has been guessed and second-­guessed at with little or no concession to Capote’s own thesis — that this is a fictionalized version of a world he knows very well.

For years Capote has been society’s adored and adorable resident intellect and court jester. In a world where parties are still often “given against someone” … where bitchery, snobbery, and hauteur are still prized right along with poise, manners, and money … where the merits of plastic surgeons are argued in the same way the reli­gious used to argue theology — gossip has always been the great staple, the glue holding beleaguered life-styles and sinking social values together. But it’s one thing to tell the nastiest story in the world to all your 50 best friends; it’s another to see it set down in cold Century Expanded type.

Capote has always been the gossip’s gossip nonpareil. He has been leaving them laughing and quaffing blanc de blanc with the best of them, ever since he came of age as an enfant terrible pet of the rich after Other Voices, Other Rooms catapulted him to fame in 1948. He has sailed on their yachts, master­minded their love affairs, and been such a focal insider that his Black and White Ball for publisher Kay Graham is still remembered as one of society’s best parties.

When the gorgeous women of the world’s tycoons and power brokers sat down to spoon up soufflé with Capote, or when Truman tickled the risibilities of the powerful tycoons themselves with his outrageous tidbits and fasci­nating possibilities, he was always the brightest, most entertaining little imp imaginable. Oh yes, of course, he was — well, everyone knew, “queer.” But in such an amusing classy way — in the manner of the great Italian count who remonstrated with an English lord for snobbery, saying, “My dear fellow, when your ancestors were still painting themselves blue, mine were already homosexual!” You know, that sort of thing. And then, of course, didn’t that more or less make dear “Tru” all the more manageable and “safe”?

Society always thought it had something on Capote, in the same way the French le gratin had Proust’s desperate desire to belong, his suspected inversion, and his Jewishness on him. What’s more, society believed Truman to be a lightweight climber who aspired to stay in its good graces. (Snorts Truman, “Yes, they have always made that mis­take about me! Why, if anybody was ever at the center of that world, it was me, so who is rejecting whom in this?” Summoning up an echo of Beau Brum­mell’s “In society stay for just as long as it takes to make an impression. After that — go!,” Truman continues: “I mean I can create any kind of social world I want, anywhere I want!”)

It seems simply never to have oc­curred to many people that the writer’s goddess might turn out to be not “Babe” Paley, but Truman’s own muse. He was, after all, so seductive, so naughty, so charming. He knew every­thing about everybody and — what’s more — had total recall. But now, the same people who listened so delight­edly and told tales out of school find themselves hoist by their own windi­ness. There they are, splashed through the pages of Esquire like hollandaise that has missed the asparagus. God! And that ain’t all — there’s more to come. It is all going to be bound be­tween hard covers into a book. A book!

Capote, meanwhile, is also a literary name. The almost universal acclaim for In Cold Blood lifted his reputation from that of a poetic mannerist into the pantheon of American belles lettres. So the Establishment world that reads and writes has also joined the hue and cry. The question whether Capote has indeed ruined his reputa­tion by stooping to writing gossip, as opposed to whether he is only doing the same kind of work attempted by ether famous writers in the past, will be argued for a long time. There seems to be no such thing as an indif­ferent opinion of “LCB ’65.”

Feuds and furors flash and die in these media-mad days, but the roar over Capote’s roman á clef vignettes, observed and recorded in explicit de­tail, rages on. “LCB ’65” was a one-shot last November, but its reverberating ripples still lash both coasts.

(Capote yelps: “When I was in New York a few weeks ago everybody was falling all over themselves being nice to me. The machinations going on be­hind the back of the people who are in the book you wouldn’t believe. Most of the attackers are just pilot fish, trying to outdo one another in being vicious in their sycophancy. They all want to stay in my favor but maintain a great front of animosity.”)

Capote rushed back to California from New York to finish up another 30,000-word installment for May pub­lication. The reaction to “LCB ‘65” in­spired him to crank that up to 40,000 words, and now, he says the literary Establishment can sit around waiting for their turn. They are “on” next, and then there’ll be four more magazine assaults before Answered Prayers ap­pears in hardcover.

Dissenters to what one social Don Quixote calls “Capote’s character as­sassination in the guise of art” have been pellucidly vocal: “Disgusting! It’s disgusting!” says society’s favorite extra man, real-estate investor Jerome Zipkin, shooting his immaculate French cuffs. “Truman is ruined. He will no longer be received socially anywhere. What’s more — those who receive him will no longer be received.”

Patrick O’Higgins, a writer and pal of Elsie Woodward — the mother-in-law of the late suicide, Ann Woodward — is himself one of the more exquisite tale-tellers of this same world, but he says: “Truman’s gone downhill. People think, ‘What a shame that a great tal­ent should be reduced to writing gos­sip.’ Some people are really hurt be­cause they’ve been kind to him. The Paleys were always so fond of him. But Elsie hasn’t been hurt. She didn’t even read the piece. She couldn’t care less. All she’ll say is ‘Je ne le connais pas!’ — isn’t that perfect?”

Columnist Jack O’Brian: “He knows what will sell in this market … he’s Jackie Susann with an education.”

Writer Wyatt Cooper, husband of Gloria Vanderbilt: “I hate talking when my feelings are negative. It isn’t constructive. I’m very fond of Truman. We used to have lunch, gossip, and it was fun. But lately it wasn’t. His vi­ciousness ceased to make it fun. I even talked to him about it two years ago and he thanked me later for caring. I think this destroys all the things he has built up. He can’t really pretend to sneer at these people in the Jet Set. He worked too hard to be ‘in’ himself. Of course Gloria is offended! He made Carol Matthau come out tough and bright, but has Gloria looking vapid and dumb, in a very unfair way.”

Wyatt, who collaborated with Tru­man on a television project and has known him for years, continues in his “more in sorrow than in anger” vein: “I had always wanted Truman to write a truthful, non-idealized version of his painful and strange childhood as an outsider. It could have been great. But, you know, he has always had a love-hate for all these beautiful women he has been close to. His mother was an alcoholic and killed herself, and children of alcoholic mothers often end up attacking women. Truman would like to be glamorous and beautiful. He has often acted out fantasies of his own by telling his women friends how to act, who to have love affairs with, by manipulating them. Now he has his ultimate revenge, by making them ridic­ulous in print.”

Gloria Vanderbilt: “I have never seen it and have heard enough about it to know I don’t want to.”

Director Peter Glenville: “Ignoble, utterly ignoble!”

Esquire’s own media critic, Nora Ephron, who didn’t even like the mild version of reminiscence and revelation dished out by Brendan Gill in Here at The New Yorker: “There has always been a disparity between Capote’s fic­tion and the public personality, and now finally the two have come together and the public personality has won.”

William and “Babe” Paley are said to have now instructed their distin­guished relatives to the effect that longtime pal Capote is persona non grata. And society’s favorite current story is of how Truman phoned Paley to ask what he thought of “LCB ’65.” Paley reportedly said, “Well, I started it and dropped off to sleep and when I woke up, they’d thrown it out.” (Zing!) When Capote protested that it was important that Paley read it, his old friend said wearily, “Truman, my wife [get that — “my wife,” not “your friend Babe”] is ill. I really haven’t time for it.” (Zowie!)

Truman found Wyatt Cooper unable to lunch with him when he was in New York over the holidays. (Cooper: “How could I — out of loyalty to Gloria. She says she’ll spit at him if she sees him.”) And Capote tells of being “cut” in Quo-Vadis by “a pitiful old society woman I often took about in Paris be­cause I felt so sorry for her. No, don’t mention her name — it’s too sad.”

Mrs. Josh Logan was said to be so incensed she rushed across a crowded room to call Dotson Rader a “traitor” just because he also writes for Esquire. Nedda Logan informed Dotson that “that dirty little toad is never coming to my parties again.” (Some dialogue in “LCB ’65” refers to a Logan soirée: “‘How was it?’ — ‘Marvelous. If you have never been to a party before.’”)

Then there are the artful diplomats, like those two brilliants who’ve won fame straddling the fine line between practicing journalism and personal social acceptance among the Upper Crust — yes, fashion’s elegant Diana Vreeland, as well as that friend-of-the-“400” (some­times now referred to derisively as “the 4,000”) Aileen (“Suzy”) Mehle. Told that Truman wanted to know why she had never written so much as a word in her syndicated society column about the only subject consuming “her crowd” since November, Suzy says: “Why? Why, there’s nothing for me to write. Truman’s done it all himself!”

And Mrs. Vreeland (rising high above the smoke of controversy just as a perfect hostess ignores a cigarette in the butter) dismisses the gaudy gossip, the sex scandals, the barely concealed identities, the homosexual revelations, the obscenity, the accusations of mur­der, and the matter of whether or not Capote has been “antisemitic,” “anti­-gay,” and/or “disloyal” to friends and playmates, by putting one unerring finger on just what she considers im­portant. “Yes — yes! The paragraph on the fresh vegetables and their size is really unique in the article. It’s a ravishing statement on the rich!”

Then there are the happy cynics like Emlyn Williams, distinguished Welsh actor-writer: “It was terrible, just aw­ful, but it was so funny-riveting. I couldn’t help laughing.”

Then there are the defenders of Art. Rust Hills, a former fiction editor: “Fas­cinating stuff. Yes, of course, it’s okay he published it all. I think the artist does have a supreme right to use any material. Remember, life is short but art is long” … Painter David Gibbs: “Oh, don’t be absurd — all art is revolu­tion! Why can’t people get that through their heads? This is brilliant stuff!” … Dotson Rader: “Marvelous, beautiful writing. It’s unimportant whether it’s true or not, since it is presented as fiction. Truman was always treated by these people as a kind of curiosity, ex­pected to do his act. That was humilia­tion coming from people who had no qualifications other than being rich and social. Everybody in the world has been telling Truman their deepest con­fidences for years and he never said he wouldn’t use them.” … Geraldine Stutz, a woman of fastidious opinions: “It’s only a scandal to a small insular world; most people won’t know, and couldn’t care less about who might be who. What counts is that it is a won­derful piece of writing and an extraor­dinary re-creation of the tone and tex­ture of those days in that world” … C. Z. Guest: “Everyone knows the man’s a professional and they told him those things anyway. He’s a dear friend of mine, but I wouldn’t discuss very private matters with him. I don’t even know who those fictional people are.”

Screenwriter Joel Schumacher, himself one of the Beautiful People: “If Tru­man had written a glittering vision of society, he’d have been termed an ass-kisser and his work a piece of crap by these same people. They always want some candy-ass lie written about them­selves. This same world thinks it sup­ports art and artists, but never under­stands that all a writer has is his ex­perience. These people feel a good press is owed them. Why? In the fame-­and-fortune game, whether it’s society, show business, big business, or politics, everybody lives on a plane of incom­parable elitism, more money, more privilege than others. So why are they so shocked when somebody tells even a slightly unattractive truth about them?”

So, speaking of Beautiful People, the night before flying to Los Angeles to interview Capote I’m at Pearl’s with seven of them (or what I call semi­-B.P.s, in that most of these work hard yet are still “social” enough to be writ­ten about and invited everywhere). After the lemon chicken has been served and Pearl has stopped clucking over us, the question goes: “What’s the one thing each of you would like to know from Capote?” They told me.

In this gathering, these youthful realists were amused and entertained by Capote’s daring. Most of them thought the writing was important. Only one of the seven Beauties completely disapproved of the piece. This Frito-colored hair and the women with was the most “social” — by whatever terms — person there; also the richest: a person who found “LCB ’65” “disgusting, unnecessary, mean, bitchy, Truman, like some Napoleon on spiteful, disloyal, and not even very well written.”

General laughter and the retort: “We’re sorry you can’t express yourself more definitely.” But such dissenting opinions were in the majority in the weeks to come. And always, the final clincher by Capote’s detractors was that this hideous, disloyal, tasteless thing the writer had done was bad enough in all its aspects, but its chief minuses were that it was “boring” and “wasn’t even well written.”

A society that habitually enfolds ennui and stinging cultural criticism around its shoulders like a familiar sable wrap could make such pronouncements and still not talk about anything else for two solid months.

Beverly Hills: La Côte Basque 1965 may have been a place, as Esquire noted, “where the plat du jour is seated somewhere in sight,” but La Scala, late 1975, is a place where Henri Soule probably wouldn’t have sent his enemy Harry Cohn. La Scala’s food is indifferent and its service based on benign neglect, yet it offers a carelessly culti­vated charm and ambience of New York–in–California. Once inside, out of the relentless 73-degree sunshine, away from the gas-fed fire burning in the Beverly Hills Hotel lobby, away from the denim-tailored suntanned men with Frito-colored hair and the women with smart-looking Mark Cross–type bags that read “Bullshit,” a person can al­most imagine being in New York.

Truman, like some Napoleon on Elba yearning for the East (I fancy), suggests we meet here. He has a day off from his acting role as the portly eccentric who lures facsimiles of the world’s most famous detectives to his mansion for sinister purposes in Neil Simon’s movie Murder by Death.

Enter reporter, tape recorder cocked, to find Truman talking with the depart­ing screenwriter Peter Viertel. We slide into a booth and Truman, looking more and more like a diabolical ver­sion of the character actor Victor Moore, says nix to the recorder. “I’ll have more to say if you don’t use it.” I protest that I haven’t his fabled total recall. “Oh, you’ll do all right. You’ll see, you’ll get a better story this way.”

Already the interview is out of my hands into the subtle control of Capote. Only around Truman do I ever feel a real kinship with those glamorous women like C-Z, Jackie, Lee, Gloria, Carol, Slim, Babe, Kay, Fleur, Pam­ela, etc. He inspires a compelling intimacy. I begin to tell him every­thing. I spurt confidences, betray my instincts, and allow myself to be drawn out. For each question I ask, Truman asks two. “Seductive” is how one long­time friend described Capote, and she is right. I cling to the edge of the table to keep it from turning completely.

Then he orders a double Russian vodka with no ice and a tall orange juice on the side. Oh well, that makes me feel better. If he’s going to drink like that, I’ll be okay. (When the inter­view ends, two double vodkas, a half-bottle of red wine, and four J&Bs on the rocks later, Truman is as fit as ever and I am still in his power.)

Truman answers the questions put by Pearl’s diners. He punctuates his softly drawled, easily imitated, and widely recognized vocal mannerism with bursts of irrepressible laughter. And some amazed and genuine out­rage. He begins most of his sentences with a drawn-out “W-e-e-e-l-l-l…”

WHY DID HE DO IT? WHY GO QUITE SO FAR? asked the retailer.

“Why did I do it? Why? I have lived a life of observation. I’ve been work­ing on this book for years, collecting. Anybody who mixes with a certain kind of writer ought to realize they’re in danger. [Chuckle.] I don’t feel I be­trayed anybody. This is a mere nothing, a drop in the bucket. To think what I could have done in that chapter. My whole point was to prove gossip can be literature. I’ve been seriously writ­ing this for three and a half years. I told everybody what I was doing. I discussed it on TV. Why has it come as such a great big surprise?”

IS THERE REALLY MORE COMING, OR IS THIS ALL? THEY SAY YOU CAN’T FINISH THE BOOK, asked the fashion arbiter.

“This thing was only a chapter. My God, what will happen when ‘Un­spoiled Monsters’ comes out? [Don’t you like that title?] I’ve never before heard it suggested that this wasn’t part of a whole book. Even my ‘Mojave,’ published in Esquire before this, was part of Answered Prayers, though we didn’t publicize it as such. ‘La Côte Basque 1965’ is certainly no short story. Of course it’s a book! [Exaspera­tion.] Lord, I have a lot to say, baby! I haven’t even begun to say it, though the book is 80 percent written.”

IS IT TRUE YOU ARE DYING OF CAN­CER? asked the art dealer.

“Irving Mansfield likes to go around telling everybody I’m dying of cancer, but I’m well now. Oh, that reminds me of a story.”

Truman cocks his platinum head so I get a good view of his flat baby-pink ears, which seem to have come in a child’s size and never grown.

“When Jackie Susann died, the Times called me for a quote. I was reminded of a judge who once ruled against Fa­ther Divine in some property dispute. Later the judge dropped dead of a heart attack and when they asked Fa­ther Divine to comment, he said, ‘I hated to do it, but …’ “

Capote explodes with roars of laugh­ter that rumble up out of his ample belly into a series of hah-hah-hahs. “So I just told the Times, ‘I hated to do it, but …’”

DID YOU WRITE THIS JUST TO MAKE MONEY AND TO SOCK AWAY SOMETHING FOR A LOVER, AS THEY SAY? asked the producer’s wife.

“I have never in my life done any­thing just for money. I’ve never had any reason to. Why would I need mon­ey? My God, I made over $3 million from In Cold Blood and I haven’t spent it. I sure haven’t made any mon­ey out of ‘La Côte Basque 1965.’ That’s absolutely cracky! You know you don’t make money from magazines.

“As for my personal life, I don’t care what anyone says or writes about me personally. I have been a public exhibit all my life. So let them go ahead and make me a monster. I was a beautiful little boy, you know, and everybody had me — men, women, dogs, and fire hydrants. I did it with every­body. I didn’t slow down until I was 19, and then I became very cir­cumspect. But everybody knows where everybody else is sexually. There are no secrets, and that’s why I don’t un­derstand the shocked response to ‘La Côte Basque 1965.’ What is all this business? Are these people living in some other medieval century? I’d never sue anyone for anything, but I’ve been lied about my whole life. I’m just sur­prised they don’t hire a hit man.”

We stop to order. Truman has steak sliced thin as prosciutto, special mayon­naise, fettuccine Alfredo, and Brie. He is emphatic that he won’t be driven out of New York or sell his U.N. Plaza apartment. (“No, no. that’s not so.”) Nor has he bought a house in Topanga Canyon. (“I guess they think that be­cause that’s where the Manson family lived and I’m a monster, too.”) I no­tice a slight tremor to Truman’s tiny hands as he lifts his glass and feel a pang for his strain.

WERE YOU TAKING REVENGE FOR ALL THOSE YEARS IN SOCIETY, LIKE A PET DWARF KICKING THE ROYALS IN THE SHIN AT LAST? asked the WWD biggie.

“I didn’t mean anything vengeful, not even remotely. And I’m disap­pointed in these people, with all their pretensions for reading, art, theater, and culture that they’re so stupid and can’t see it as a work of art. This book is a serious work of art — if you don’t see it as that, then you don’t see it as anything. I’ve always done good things. Would I actually sit down and write about something like that as a joke, as revenge?”

I ask, “But didn’t it really occur to you that you’d be called a traitor and disloyal for publishing this specific kind of work, using people’s names?”

Truman sighs: “Well, it is true no­body likes what you write about them. Even those I was sympathetic to in In Cold Blood didn’t like themselves in print. Loyalty wasn’t the question, but on the other hand, I don’t care. I really don’t. If that’s the mentality — tant pis … I haven’t lost a single friend I’d want to keep in any event. These people say­ing these things weren’t friends of mine to begin with. Nedda Logan has always hated me, ever since I published that Brando piece in The New Yorker. What do the Logans have to do with anything, just because they once gave a party for Princess Margaret, who everyone knows is a terrible bore!”

IS IT TRUE ESQUIRE LAWYERS SHOWED THE “ANN HOPKINS” PART TO ANN WOODWARD FOR LEGAL CLEARANCE AND, RECOGNIZING HERSELF, SHE KILLED HERSELF? asked the designer.

“The most vicious thing about all this is that story! It’s absolutely untrue that Esquire showed her the copy. That’s ridiculous. Of course nobody showed it to her, as it would have been tantamount to admitting it was about her. I never let anybody read it in toto, and that’s why it was impossible for her to have seen or heard of it. The manuscript was kept in a bank vault. I was very careful with it; sometimes I let a few people read part of it with me sitting there. The new portion, ‘Un­spoiled Monsters,’ I’ve never shown to anybody. This book wanders in all di­rections. It’s not just about the ‘Côte Basque’ people, and my God, of course I’m not taking out after Babe Paley in the next part. She isn’t even mentioned. How do these things get started? The book is really about ‘Kate McCloud.’ And nobody but me knows who she is, and nobody is going to know.”

I tell Truman that Elsie Woodward herself does not feel Ann committed suicide for any reason having to do with him. He says, “You see …. “

DON’T YOU CARE THAT ALL THESE PEOPLE ARE GOING TO CLOSE THEIR DOORS TO YOU? asked the play producer.

“Well, in the first place, I don’t think all these people will. I maintain the people who are really mad are the ones left out. Jean vanden Heuvel said, ‘I hope it isn’t true I’m not going to be in by name. “La Côte Basque” was de­licious and I hereby propose myself for another section.’

“Look, I’m not using Proust as a model because what I’m doing is in the latter half of the 20th century as an American. But if someone like Proust were here now and an American, he’d be writing about this world. People say the language is filthy. I think that’s the way people talk and think now — ex­actly. I think it’s beautifully written. This thing about me never being in­vited again just shows such an igno­rance of human nature that I can’t be­lieve it. People don’t understand how their own minds work. No matter what happens, you have to respect some­body because he is an artist, if you have any pretensions to culture. There’s a fantastic ingratitude in America toward its artists. I mean, you do mar­velous things and they just …

“Well, France is loyal to its artists, England to its artists, even Russia to its artists [chuckle], when they are dead. No other country treats its crea­tive people like we do. Here they wait for you to fail. They love it. If people think I’m just a bitch, then I surely am 100 percent misunderstood. I con­sider myself a fine artist. I drove down here from working in British Columbia to start work on the movie and found the world had exploded. This place has been in the same uproar as New York.”

I say that maybe people in Holly­wood are afraid they’ll be next.

Truman laughs. “Oh, they’ll get theirs!”

He turns serious: “Look, my life has been dominated by my own levels of taste in art, especially the art of nar­rative prose writing, wherein my par­ticular art lies. I have never compro­mised that. I may have compromised other things in my life, personally, emo­tionally, or whatnot, but never that. This book, this whole thing, has been the ultimate of my art. You have to be true to your work. I’ve always said there’s no such thing as writing down. Writers always do the best they can.”

We go out into the sunshine. I take a good look at Truman and am infected perhaps by his own line describing Henri Soulé as “pink and glazed as a marzipan pig.” We walk toward the Beverly Wilshire while I think only in food clichés. I note Truman’s new but­ter-colored moccasins … his apricot-yogurt sweater … his Champagne lick of hair … the strawberry-colored heels of his tiny French carroty hands … his pale raspberry-tinted sunglasses … his soft Cardin hat with its gingerbread texture. l’m relieved to see that he is wearing an ordinary unappetizing pair of trousers that make him look as if he has been hit in the ass with a shovel.

Truman carries his current over­weight bulge before him like some de­frocked Santa Claus. He gives several autographs en route. He tries to buy a denim vest covered with pockets, dis­covers that an expensive camera comes with it, and shrugs, “They should give it to me.” At the hotel we fall into the El Padrino bar and Truman asks for a telephone. Disturbed by reports of Diana Vreeland’s displeasure, he dials her direct.

He calls her “darling,” “angel,” “pre­cious one,” and tells her twice that he loves her. He hangs up triumphant and exclaims: “She says it’s the only important and interesting thing she has ever read about the rich!”

Burbank, Stage 15: I am watching Truman “act.” He stands on a step ladder reading Murder by Death lines in a singularly hideous dining-room set. Peter Sellers, Elsa Lanchester, and Timmy Coco play the scene with him. As far as one can see, Capote makes no effort to “act” but simply plays himself. When the heavy chandelier falls, smashing the table and almost causing serious injuries, Capote quips: “The ghosts of Gore Vidal and of Jackie Susann, no doubt.”

In his mobile dressing room, I ask about this acting bit: “Oh, I just thought it would be fun to do some­thing different and I really liked the script. It’s going to be a good movie. I probably won’t act again. It was just for a change from working on the book, and I knew I didn’t have time to take a vacation. How am I as an actor? [Chuckles.] Let’s see, just say, ‘What Billie Holiday is to jazz … what Mae West is to tits … what Gucci is to loaf­ers … what Schlumberger is to enamel bracelets … what Cartier is to tank watches … what Guerlain is to perfume … what Roederer is to Champagne … what Chekhov is to the short story … what Seconal is to sleeping pills … what King Kong is to penises, Truman Capote is to the great god Thespis!”

Truman is suddenly struck by an idea. “My agent Mr. Irving Lazar has given several parties of late and didn’t invite me. So maybe you’re right. May­be I am a social outcast. Tell you what — call him up and ask about it!”

I’m reluctant, but Truman pays no attention to me. He gets Lazar’s phone number, he dials, and hands me the telephone. I give my message to the secretary, who says “Swifty” will call back. When I hang up, Truman is exasperated. “No, that’s not what I want you to say.” He re-coaches me in my lines. Before Lazar can return the call, Truman is called to the set. When the call comes through I tell Lazar that his client is now a social outcast and ask if this applies in Hollywood, since Truman has not been invited to Lazar’s parties.

Lazar says, grimly, “I wouldn’t have any comment about that.”

Floundering, I say, “You wouldn’t have any comment?”

Lazar: “No.”

I stumble, “Okay, well, I’ll tell Mr. Capote what you said.”

Lazar’s voice rises. “I didn’t tell you to tell Mr. Capote anything.”

“Yes, I know,” I reply, weakly, “and I will tell him that you say you have no comment.”

Lazar screams: “I don’t want you to tell Mr. Capote I said anything. Dam­mit, I knew I shouldn’t have taken this call!” (Slam.)

Truman loves it. He roars over hav­ing discomfited the agent of Richard M. Nixon. Two weeks later he calls New York to ask what people are saying now. I sense that he is anxious. He speaks bitterly of what he calls “the ‘walkers’ … my vociferous critics … what do they have to do with me … with my work?”

Soon it comes out that now the Paleys, the Whitneys, Gloria Vander­bilt, Mike and Jan Cowles, others who were indeed real friends, have drawn the line against Truman. Unlike the Baron de Montesquiou writing to Proust for reassurance that he is not the model for “Baron de Charlus,” Lady Keith does not get in touch with Capote at all. No, she has gone on a trip to the South Pacific with — the Irving Lazars.

Where does all this leave our hero? “Well, I won’t retire to my cork-lined room yet,” says Truman. “I’m just going to a Palm Springs spa to take off 20 pounds before a college lecture tour. Then I’ll drop the other shoe.”

I remind him that nobody can really judge a literary work for 50 years. “This won’t even be dated in 50 years!” says Truman with a bulldog tenacity.

Then I tell him the story of how Gertrude Stein, with all her artistic pretensions, didn’t like the portrait Picasso painted of her and made the classic hick comment: “But it doesn’t look like me!”

Picasso then said, “But it will!”

Truman applauds. He says, “You know. I’m beginning to think what’s happening now is better than the book!”

[zalrb]

I don’t know what to think of Logan and Marcia. Because I get why they’d be in to each other, why they’d marry each other and stay married. Logan has money and Marcia is composed, clever, and conniving and I think Logan would like that (so long as she didn’t attempt to usurp him). I never got the vibe that there were any real feelings involved, which is why I was so surprised that Marcia left Logan after Rhea (controversial opinion, but I don’t think Logan and Rhea were ever a thing, Rhea seems too well-adjusted for that IMO). I can get Marcia’s cattiness with Kerry, and obviously I get Logan fucking around but I never understood why it was with Kerry because she brings nothing to the table the way Marcia, Rhea, and even Caroline do.

I’m also interested in her loyalty to Logan. Part of it was that he had all the power, but Marcia’s very big on betrayal and even used the word “traitors” a few times, which made it seem more personal.

I’m curious about why Shiv dislikes her so much (but Shiv hates everyone, so…) and I’m interested in Marcia’s beef with Willa and her weird kinship with Greg. I think Marcia thinks people see her as an older Willa and resents that bc they’re on different levels but I do not get why anyone but Tom would like Greg lmao.

Logan and Rhea weren't sexually involved

and she was also clearly playing him

but I think it's clear they were still a thing

especially because being romantically involved with someone and playing them is kind of expected in this world at least to Logan, he says it about Marcia

and it's to the point that Logan doesn't know if his judgment is impaired because he's so swept up in her

which also happens with Kerry, he pushes for her to become an anchor

and it's only when he repeatedly sees how people are making fun of her audition tape that he's like OK well kill it

which is actually an interesting aspect of Logan, particularly since he can eventually admit to being worried about not thinking clearly because he's infatuated with a woman

Marcia leaves because Logan isn't discreet, everyone knows that he's infatuated with Rhea and it's even worse than with Sally-Anne, and she has a sense of dignity. It's one thing to have affairs, it's another thing to flaunt them

It's also interesting you never got the vibe that there were real feelings involved with Marcia and Logan when I thought it existed at one point because one of the most, if not the most, vulnerable scenes we see of him when he's alive is with her

yet I don't think loyalty is why she stayed, they negotiated more money and more power in the company for her in season 3 when Logan asks her not to divorce him because of the optics, they had an arrangement

In terms of Kerry, it's interesting because she kind of just shows up one episode and then her screen time grows with each season little by little and we don't have much backstory but when we see her talk to Greg we do see her have the same type of sharpness, no bullshitting attitude

while also being someone who is taking care of him, like Marcia isn't there anymore, he isn't going to rely on his kids, so not only does she sometimes act as an intermediary and a translator to the siblings,

she's doing the things Marcia used to do, like when she knows about his UTI plus she's young and ambitious and probably won't say "awesome" too much.

Shiv's dislike of Marcia comes down to power plays and control and who has more of it. Shiv likes to try and take control of situations and she's repeatedly told to stay in her lane by Logan or by Kendall,

even by Roman (though I'm thinking more of this latest episode)

and that's something she continuously navigates abd pushes back against but she's used to it coming from her brothers and her father and men but then there's Marcia -- and to Shiv, who is Marcia, really? just some other woman -- who plainly tells her that she's not in control

and that's also coupled with the access Marcia has/had to Logan that Shiv couldn't/can't get her own father

like when she wants to go see him after he comes out of the hospital and Marcia won't let her upstairs, Shiv talks to the staff and says "I'm Logan's daughter, I just wanted to thank you for all you do" as a way to establish that she's the authority and they should be taking their cues from her not Marcia

combined with the fact that unlike the old guard who will act sycophantic, Marcia expresses the contempt she has and it's specifically to Shiv about Shiv

[kankuroplease]

I'm still trying to understand this whole tsau thing, but I want to know if Michi's family likes Lee, why can't Michi and Neji get a divorce?

While the Uchiha are fine with love marriages, it’s not that simple do to the fact it’s Michi and they’re dealing with criminal organizations with laws and bloody histories.

The Hyuga and Uchiha are barely friendly, they’re not warring over territory as much as they use to back when Tajima was younger. Their relationship is fragile do to valid concerns from both sides that the other will gain more political advantages and take down the other.

So there’s several reasons divorce isn’t a great idea for them, but the most important are;

They had to fight for this to even happen (Michi speaking up for herself and Neji bringing up the benefits of securing an Uchiha bride of note). All that work for a divorce when both of them knew divorce wouldn’t be an option for either of them after they received both sides cautioned blessings

Neji and Michi have a diplomatic marriage that Shisui is itching to have fail as this would absolutely lead to a gang war, in which he hopes to obliterate the Hyuga. Michi getting ‘thrown aside’ for another woman is an insult he can easily work Madara up over.

Neji would have to answer to the elders as to how and why he failed to keep this valuable asset he found (Michi). As long as Madara’s alive, the head of Uchiha, and Michi is in Hyuga territory, they have a slight edge over him. He wouldn’t do anything that would put his precious daughter in jeopardy. And if they find out the divorce was over something as idiotic as “not being in love” he’s as good as dead. They have Hinata and believe in execution of the weak amongst their own.

Even if they divorce, neither could actually be with someone they want to be. Lee is friends with the next head of the Hyuga, he’d be an early target for the Uchiha, especially Shisui who knows who his little sister holds dear. no Lee? Michi will be compliant enough to set aside to marry off to someone that will benefit himself in the future.

If the Hyuga didn’t kill Neji, they’d definitely kill his weakness (aka Tenten). Like I’ve stated before; having low status affair partners in the Hyuga isn’t frowned upon. Marrying below their status and divorce is. He’d still have to marry someone else of high status and most likely someone the elders arranged for him to marry.

Like you think Hinata really wants to marry Toneri?? She picked her poison and is doing her part for the Hyuga - gaining a connection with the Otsutsuki. One of the wealthiest families around with their hands in many political pockets. This is why even his cousin wouldn’t back him in the case of a divorce.

Madara would be insulted. The Hyuga have always acted like they were better than them and a divorce would basically be saying that they still think that way in his eyes. She can try to reason with her dad, but that would only spare Lee. Neji is her friend too and she wouldn’t want anything to happen to him (neither would Lee)

They actually have more freedom together. Agreeing to get married settled so many concerns on both sides and both are free to live their lives as they wish to for the most part while together. Two buddies, two beds, no war, and one roof is a pretty sweet deal.

In short;

If they divorce, they are knowingly signing themselves and a lot of people up for problems they probably won’t live to solve.

[nalooksthrough]

Welcome to Strangetown! Where everyone is related to each other in some way, shape or form. 

Unless your name is Aja Loner. 

Read below for the full run down. 

I’m not going to go into all the premade relations. If you familar with Strangetown as a whole, you should know them. As for everyone else. 

Lets start at the beginning with Pascal and his first daughter Star Curious. As we all know Vidcund has his alien baby a few days after Pascal’s baby is born which is Star’s half-brother/cousin Dusty Curious. 

Loki and Circe. When she was still alive. Had a son called Thor Beaker. While Circe was in the early stages of her pregnancy, Loki got abducted. Which is how Thor’s half-brother Cosmo Beaker was born. Cosmo is also the half-brother to both Star and Dusty Curious. 

Kristen Loste and Checo Ramirez start having an affair. Which eventually leads to Lisa and Checo divorcing. He then marries Kristen, making her now Kristen Ramirez. Making her the step-mother of Checo and Lisa’s daughter Tessa. I couldn’t fit Kristen in the tree

While that’s going on Lola Curious and Buzz Grunt get involved and the two are now having an “oops” baby together. Buzz’s three other children aren’t on here. Because once again I couldn’t fit them.

Johnny. Having not gone to college. Meets Erin Beaker at a club. Johnny and Erin fall in love. And the two are soon Wed. Johnny Smith becomes Johnny Beaker. The two then have a son called Odin Beaker. Which is Thor and Cosmo’s cousin. As well as Jenny and the late 9#’s grandson.

Pascal marries Nervous becoming Pascal Subject. Him and his daughter Star move in with Nervous and Nervous’ zombie mother Olive Specter. Who both moved out of the Beaker resident as soon as Olive was resurrected viva genie wish. Pascal gets abducted and has another daughter named Nova Subject. And he was abducted again and impregnated with his third unborn child. 

Lisa Ramirez also has an affair. This time with Lazlo Curious. Soon after Lisa and Checo divorced, Lazlo gets abducted. He marries Lisa, making her Lisa Curious. And moves her and his new step-daughter daughter Tessa Ramirez in with him, his brother and his nephew. Lazlo then has a daughter named Luna. Who is Tessa’s step sister. Star, Dusty, Nova, Unborn’s cousin/half-sister. As well as Cosmo’s half-sister. 

[bookworldofmeghan]

The Teacher by Freida McFadden

woah...

Spoilers Ahead!!!

I don't know if I have any words. I started my Freida McFadden journey with The Housemaid. I absolutely devoured it and loved it. I have heard so many great things about her books and since the first one I read was amazing, I had high hopes. I am a full time high school teacher so I was very intrigued to where this was going.

I am truly and utterly disappointed in this book. First off the POV that they switch between is Addie and Eve for part one, Addie and Nate for part two, and maybe all three of them for part three (I can't remember). Eve and Nate are married and teachers at the same high school. I hated Nate from page one, he refused to touch and even have a conversation with his own damn wife. The way that I thought this might potentially turn into a relationship where the husband alienates the wife from her family was crazy, even though I knew from the beginning that he would end up having an affair with a student (YUK!). You couldn't hear how hard I hit the keyboard for that yuk but trust me I SLAMMED! Nate is a thirty-eight-year-old English teacher who teaches poetry to the juniors. Eve teaches math at the same high school with the same grade. Addie is a sixteen-year-old junior who lost her dad and struggles in math, but guess what? Her favorite subject is English. Wait... you're never going to believe it. Her favorite topic is POETRY!

Addie ends up being in both teacher's class. She already has rumors flying around from her issues last year between another math teacher and herself. Well, well, well, Nate ends up falling for her. Addie joins the poetry newspaper that he runs and one day stays after school. Nate ends up kissing her and they rendezvous every week/day after poetry meeting. Meanwhile, Eve goes home to her lonely house and grades work and shops for her shoes. She ends up having an affair with a shoe salesman and dreams of running away with him, even though they both know it can't happen.

Addie eventually repeats old habits by stalking Nate and gets caught. Eve catches Addie and Nate kissing in his classroom and she takes a picture for proof. When she confronts Nate, after telling her lover (Jay), she asks for a divorce and for him to resign. Eve finds Addie inside their kitchen and they talk about Nate taking advantage of her, Addie gets defensive and hostile and whacks Eve over her head with a frying pan. Thinking she's dead, she calls Nate and he comes running. While Addie is busy and out of the kitchen, Eve wakes up and Nate strangles her. But doesn't tell Addie, leaving her to continue believing she killed her. Nate comes up with this idiotic and dumb plan to get rid of Eve's body, with Addie's help of course.

While they are digging a hole in this abandoned pumpkin farm, Nate abandons Eve to be left at three am in the middle of nowhere, stranded. She ends up finding her way home with Jay, her ex-best friend. Nate sets Addie up to take the blame for his wife's disappearance. Meanwhile, someone is leaving reminders of Eve in his house. Addie is investigated, but her nemesis, Kenzie, comes to talk to Addie about her involvement with Nate. Turns out, the girl that's been bullying her was jealous. Nate started having an affair with Kenzie when she was just fourteen years old. They team together and do the brave thing of going to the detective and admitting what has been going on.

Just you wait, Eve is alive and ends up planning her revenge with Jay (her mister). They get revenge for burying her alive, by killing and burying Nate (alive? can't remember, I think so) in the same exact spot. The investigation goes away and everything with Addie and her ex-best friend (Jay) returns to normal, and Addie ends up being really close to Kenzie.

I was grossed out every step of the way. And wait, I forgot, Nate got with Eve when she was fourteen. He's not attracted to her when she turns thirty, because he's only freaking attracted to fourteen and sixteen year old girls. This book never should've been written. This was horrendous and volatile subject matter that is just disgusting and deplorable. I am so glad I didn't waste money on buying this book. Let's ignore the subject matter, I found this book to be so predictable. I knew that everything was going to happen chapters before. Normally there is a huge plot twist with Freida McFadden's books, and there just wasn't one in this. No shocking moments. No mouth dropped moments like there usually is, and that was disappointing, that's what makes a Freida McFadden book.

Goodreads overall 4.01 star rating

My rating: 2.0 stars

[glaciiermonarch]

❀ *◦ sen mitsuji. genderfluid. he/she/they. demiromantic homosexual. ⇝ hey, isn’t that takaharu mochizuki? i think that the thirty-five-year-old from adelaide, south australia, works as dj at the boom boom room, music producer & engineer, and drummer of vain rogues & the ghost orchestra; but outside of that people describe them as perpetual busyness to prevent the chance of an emotion occurring; a pristine but empty-feeling mansion with too many rooms; perfectly pouty lips pulling up in a smirk over a private joke; and a robin's egg blue drum kit with every possible bell and whistle on the market. i hear they are moody & distant, but they are also known to be cerebral & generous. consider giving them a visit at their home in winterwood estates and get to know why they’re called the ice queen.

➙ this character uses he/him, they/them, AND she/her pronouns freely! the writer will be using ALL of them, sometimes within the same paragraph, so please extend the same courtesy! ➙ taka is attracted to men and masc-presenting enbies and just calls themself gay!

full name: takaharu mochizuki ➙ this is in "western" order since taka grew up in english-speaking countries ➙ kanji: 望月 貴陽 (Mochizuki Takaharu)  望 (mochi) meaning "wish, desire" and 月 (tsuki) meaning "moon;” together meaning “full moon” 貴 (taka) meaning “precious” and 陽 (haru) meaning “sun”

nicknames: taka, taki, tako, haru, mochi-san, tsuki-san

dob: 17 august 1989

place of birth: adelaide, south australia, australia

languages: japanese (native); australian english (native); korean (advanced); german (advanced); arabic (advanced); hindi (strong); mandarin (strong); okinawan (some)

education: bachelor’s degree in philosophy and asian & middle eastern studies, duke university

strengths: educated; cerebral; generous; loyal; resolute; shrewd; creative; captivating; wise; patient

weaknesses: cold; moody; gloomy; judgmental; harsh; disconnected; distant; crass

hobbies: playing drums, guitar, piano, and clarinet; surfing; skateboarding; playing video games; smoking weed; napping; reading

likes: warm weather & beaches; fashion;

dislikes: messy people; uncreative people; children (friends' kids are an exception)

disabilities & health: major depression; chronic back and knee pain

even the silverest of spoons being in your mouth when you're born doesn't shield you from the unhappiness of life, but it does slap a bandage over a festering wound so you can ignore it a while longer. kenta mochizuki, a dermatologist originally from japan. beth mcnulty, general legal counsel for one of the biggest energy companies in all of australia. married a little later than either of their families would have liked, but in their defense, they were both busy being successful. and they barely slowed down long enough to have their only child, takaharu.

though of an ornery countenance since birth, taka was always still popular and favored because he was pretty and rich. clarinet lessons, piano lessons, drum lessons, surfing lessons, she was set up for success from the very beginning. her childhood memories are mostly accompanied by nannies and tutors, though her father, an earnest and excitable man, always made an effort to be present in his child's life, eager to see her succeed.

there was always a distance between taka and their mother, though; taka knows now that beth never wanted to be a parent. this attitude became clearly evident when she didn't show up to taka's tenth birthday dinner. it was soon revealed that she'd forgotten, and more of the truth came tumbling out: she shirked her parental duties for an affair. and this apparently had been going on for quite some time, seeing other men that weren't her heartbreakingly devoted husband.

a divorce ensued, and taka sided with his kind, loving father, who had also always made an effort to keep japanese culture alive in the home. when taka was barely into her teens, her father sat her down to tell her about a woman he'd met online, one he'd fallen in love with. the catch was that she lived in malibu. taka was given the choice to live with her mother or move to the united states with her father. she easily chose the latter.

lashonda rhimes, successful anesthesiologist to the stars, and kenta's second wife. she was a few years younger, though not egregiously so, but still childless. and she treated taka like her own child, which might have been externally brushed off by the surly teenager, but taka came to appreciate it. he was popular in his new home, with his accent and his money and his looks. being so intelligent, the transition to a new continent wasn't difficult at all, and he finished high school near the top of his class.

he didn't really have a plan for his life, and all his parents really wanted out of him was just for him to go to college. an acceptance to duke university was sweetened by some scholarships, and whatever those didn't cover was easily made up for by the wads of cash his family had. taka had started smoking weed not long after landing in the US, but she branched out into new drugs while in durham, north carolina, for college.

acid trips were unpleasant every time she tried dropping; and she didn't like injecting anything to leave marks behind on her pretty body. but she soon found a bad habit in cocaine. she would sniff a few lines, party for several hours, go home and do homework, go to class, and go to modeling shoots, and do it all over again. somehow, using sheer ambition probably, she finished college within 4 years, even with a double major and a couple semesters spent studying abroad.

bouncing around the US for a year or so; living with his aunt in japan for a couple years; and then landing in anchorage for the next adventure around 2016

these days, taka keep busy in any way she knows how: too long with her own thoughts can be dangerous and make her itch to return to her cocaine habit. but they've done a good job of staying clean. taka doesn't need to work for money—his mother sends him gobs of money to curry his favor, and his father and stepmother have nobody else to spoil—but he does work to stay busy, spinning tunes at the boom boom room; modeling for small indie publications and brands; and gaining some traction as a music producer.

with more money than one person should ever need, taka gives a lot of it away. there are a few charities she routinely makes generous donations to; but she also likes to take care of her friends. she'll buy her closest friends whatever they want, buy their groceries, offer to pay rent or even let them stay in her house, offer to pay their medical bills... seriously, what is one lonely person gonna do with all those digits in their bank account? besides, spending money is the only way she knows how to show love.

[where-theres-smoak-2]

I don't know if you've ever seen the legend of Manolo, but if you haven't, well you should. I warmly recommend it to you. It's a very good animated film with let's say... a dynamic that reminds me a lot of Darklina.

Or what I would like / what she could be if they lived a very long time as immortals.

The whole story is based on the fact that two immortals. First, La Muerte, who watches over the land of beloved souls, made of sugar and loving human beings, convinced that their hearts are naturally pure and sincere. Then we have Xibalba, ruler of the Land of Forgotten Souls, made of tar and all the disgusting things in the world, disliking human beings, convinced that they are as deceitful and evil as he is.

La Muerte and Xibalba then make a bet about three humans, ie a girl and two boys with the stakes of who will end up with her. Everyone chooses their champion and if Xibalba wins, he recovers the management of the kingdom of La Muerte, the country of beloved souls, while she will have to recover hers, the country of forgotten souls. If La Muerte wins, however, Xibalba will have to stop meddling in human affairs, the only real distraction he has. In sum, they both make a bet determining the fate of Men.

And what's funny about it, while with such a description one might think that the Muerte and Xibalba are natural enemies, well in fact they are a fucking couple ! 😂

They behave as if they were married (which wouldn't even surprise me). And what makes me think of Darklina is this whole notion of them looking like a divorced couple who are having a hard time separating. Well, throughout the movie, in fact, we know that La Muerte is angry with Xibalba because during their last bet, he cheated on her.

Because yes, Xibalba is a cheater and cannot be trusted. He cheats again with this bet during the film. There's a scene where Manolo, the mortal hero, comes to La Muerte to tell her that Xibalba cheated, and... It was so funny to see her angrily yelling him name, then seeing Xibalba land in mode " Yes my dear ? " with wine, all to see that Manolo is there and to throw everything away. 😂

At the end of the film, the two reconcile.

But it's very funny, because they still behave like a couple during a period that could be interpreted as a breakup. They give each other loving nicknames. Are seduced. Make themselves jealous. Etc. All this while still being in opposition to their roles for humans.

They are the most interesting part of the film, although they play in the background.

To say, I find that their screen time was too short and that they deserve a film just for them.

But I loved it and I completely imagine Darklina could have that kind of dynamic if they stayed alive and immortal.

A few excerpts if you're interested :

https://youtu.be/-B_N9xoCS2A

I haven't seen it before but from the excerpt you attached it does look really entertaining so I'll be sure to check it out. You are right they do give of potential darklina vibes.

[that-darn-clown]

had. a thought about Maya, Claire, and Maya's general mistrust/hatred of William ever since she met the guy.

like i've said before, while i try not to focus too much on stuff like racism in my Fnaf stuff...i also want to make it historically accurate. so-

fun fact number one!! William and Henry would've been going to college sometime in the early to mid 60s.

so y'know. Fun.

the way i imagine how Henry and William met Anna and Claire (respectively) was at a diner. but y'know. just about everything was still Segregated.

so, Henry mostly frequented the diner (and started flirting with the owner's daughter) while William stayed back at the dorm...up until William finally decided that he wanted to go out to eat. so what does Henry do? drag him to the diner.

it was...a bit awkward at first, for reasons you can probably imagine. but Henry talked about William enough that they kinda knew he was just an awkward (and pretty obviously sheltered) guy.

enter Claire Emmerson: a young ballet teacher who's having a rough time in life, who would like to be a mother, but that requires ✨marriage,✨ which is. Not a thought that excites her too much (< incredibly aromantic. not aroace. just aro). because most men she's met haven't exactly been the greatest. she just wants one guy who doesn't suck and respects her desire to both raise children but also keep her dream of being a ballet teacher alive.

so uh. William and Claire are the embodiment of the "Me and the bad bitch I pulled by being autistic" meme. who's who? unimportant.

fast forward a few years (early 1966), and William's showing up to the Emmerson household to both ask for the family's blessing and to, hopefully, propose to Claire by the end of the night. while Claire's parents were basically that one meme of "this is the guy my daughter's into. he looks a little gay, but whatever makes my princess happy <3"...Maya was a lot less happy about Claire's choice in boyfriend.

mostly because she detected William's Bad Vibes and didn't trust that shit. not with her little sister.

while she didn't exactly step in to stop the engagement or anything, she did pull William aside later that night to give him a little "talk." and by "talk," i mean she basically told William that if he were to ever mistreat Claire or any kids he happened to have with her, then she would, and i quote, "rip his dick and balls off."

a year of living together later, after interracial marriage was legalized, and William and Claire were now able to be legally married.

Maya tried to interact with William as sparsely as possible; which meant that she generally didn't talk with him or anything unless it was a holiday or on one of the kids' birthdays.

and, one day, Maya learns that her sister now has another child; a little girl that, supposedly, William "adopted."

it's when she goes there for Thanksgiving later that year, she just. has a bombshell dropped on her: Elizabeth was the result of an "affair," technically. with Henry, a man Maya had only really met in passing. he'd seemed nice enough, from what Maya could gather, anyway, but....Christ.

Maya tries getting some answers out of her sister; was she seriously okay with that? had she known the whole time?? and Claire just shrugs and goes "yeah pretty much" and...well, Maya knew Claire never really wanted to marry anyone. that her little sister viewed her own husband more as a friend than, well, a husband, and her marriage as more a "Friends With Benefits" situation. but...still.

and then, as the years go by...Claire just sounds more and more tired, more weary, and she's at her wits end with her husband. Maya helps her every step of the way with the divorce over the phone.

and then her sister dies in a car accident. were it not for the fact that it was a very public ordeal that the whole town knew about, then William would've been a dead man within the month.

Maya ends up in town for her sister's funeral. she doesn't speak a word to him, and doesn't want him to speak a word to her, either. she doesn't understand what he's not getting; flattery's not going to win her over or anything. she's never liked him, never will. she gives Mike and his siblings as much comfort as she can, and learns that...Stuff's Certainly Been Happening In Hurricane.

she gets a chance to actually sit and talk with Henry...who she learns is also grieving someone rather close to him (Charlie). she gives him her number; they might not know each other well...but she thinks they know each other well enough.

she keeps finding herself returning to Hurricane, not for holidays or birthdays anymore...but funerals. this time, her younger nephew's.

died in an accidental fire (well...they sure hope it was an accident, anyway). shook the whole town up. at an annual Halloween festival, too...

Mike hardly says a word to her the whole funeral. sure, she's heard of the...Incident just a few months ago...but the poor kid. just as he was trying to fix things...just as things were starting to look up...

so you can imagine her shock, confusion, worry, and mild rage at getting a call from Henry out of the blue in like February of 1985 just telling her that she needs to get custody of Michael, and Soon, because Something Doesn't Feel Right.

EXPLODES!!!!!!!