#it’s not structured the way an ensemble movie is supposed to be so it just doesn’t work 🤷‍♂️

[baronessofmischief]

Rebel Moon on Netflix is sooooooo soso bad guys 😂 like at least there’s space Charlie Hunnam with a Scottish accent and sometimes the main character has a flashback where she has a better haircut AND there’s a sibling duo who have the best costumes in the movie but the story? The script? The movie structure? Cohesiveness? Absolutely terrible. And there’s still 45 minutes left

[gretchensinister]

Book Recommendations 2024!

Hello from someone who read 142 books this year! Time for favorites and recommendations!

First, however, you may say “How did you read 142 books this year?” Reading is my main form of entertainment. I’m not keeping up with movies, video games, TV shows, comics, etc. I have no qualifications with these recommendations except that I am a person who reads a lot.

Also, this year I completed my re-read of the Animorphs series, and those books are short, which will account for the higher-than usual number. I’m really glad I did this re-read, which I actually started in 2020 when the libraries were closed, and then paused for a couple of years. I find this series impressive for the way that it is very clearly written for a 9-12 year old audience (vocab choices, book length, story structure) but also obviously respects that audience and understands that kids at these ages are capable of thinking about difficult choices and issues. And I think this book series gives space for the intended audience to think about difficult things and come up with their own thoughts, even if their decisions are different from the ones the characters make. The ensemble cast and the extreme situations they face mean that different perspectives and questioning plans and decisions happen all the time. Of course I still have worldbuilding questions (secrecy would have been tanked at the start if any of the kids had had braces), but I know that’s hardly the most important thing to focus on.

I read Animorphs as they were being published, and something I didn’t think about then but I learned this year was that the last book was published in May 2001. And then I had The Summer I Was Twelve Before Everything Changed and then everything really DID change in September 2001 and not just because of turning 13.

Now, I know this is not connected, but I finished this re-read just a few months before another bad, major national event is due. So. Despite what my rational brain knows. I feel like I probably will not re-read Animorphs completely again.

Favorites, in no particular order:

Prophet by Helen MacDonald and Sin Blaché: This is a science-fiction story set close to the present day about a man with the unique power to see the truth about statements or objects and his government handler investigating a substance that makes it possible for nostalgia to produce physical manifestations. The reason it’s on my favorites list is that in addition to the main plot it also has a slow burn romance dynamic between the two characters I mentioned above. It’s the kind of thing that I rarely find in a form I like and this book did it very well.

Saint Death’s Daughter by C.S.E. Cooney: An alternate-world fantasy where the main character is a young necromancer with an allergy to violence (literally) who must navigate the loss of her ancestral home, political machinations, and protecting her niece from powerful magical assassins. I just had a really good time, it felt fresh, and I really hope there will be a sequel soon.

Textiles: The Whole Story by Beverly Gordon: Textiles are everywhere in the human world and in my opinion they really, really deserve more notice. This book is a great starting point for that, discussing textiles not only in terms of technology but also in terms of meaning and significance. It’s one of those books that shifts your perspective about the material world.

Work Won’t Love You Back by Sarah Jaffe: This book takes a close look at labor in professions that are supposed to be done for the “love” of it, such as teaching, non-profit work, art, and sports, among others. I think everyone who earns money on any level from work that is supposed to be “fun” or is something that is considered a gift/privilege to do (like art/sports) needs to read this to get more perspective on what/why capitalistic culture says what it does about certain jobs and how to like, see where it’s bullshit and not give work more than it deserves.

Feel It All by Casey Tanner: This book is excellent for unpacking negative cultural messages about sex and pleasure and giving a guide to finding ways to move forward positively without a focus on some singular endpoint where one is “healed.” I can’t explain it adequately in a few sentences, but I HIGHLY recommend this book. I found it very compassionately written, and written from a perspective that I felt was inclusive of many different forms of relationships without prioritizing any one kind. That is, being very chill with the idea that friend relationships may be the most important in a person’s life, for example. Also, I’m pretty sure this book was the one I read that talks about how it’s strange that “pleasure” so often means a particular kind of sexual pleasure and that opening up the idea of pleasure will help it be found in more forms and more places.

Come As You Are by Emily Nagoski: I’ve seen people recommend this book a lot, and they’re RIGHT. If you’ve ever had a vagina, ever interact intimately, or might ever interact intimately with someone with a vagina, read this book. Yes, the caveat is that the book is primarily written for cis women. The author acknowledges this, I acknowledge this, it is what it is (and part of the issue is that at this point in time, most scientific studies that consider vaginas/vulvas/clitorises only discuss cis women). This is a book with a lot of scientific data to basically say: there’s nothing wrong with you. It discusses how arousal works (several competing factors!) and gives practical ideas for being able to figure out what you want and feel more pleasure. However, I did think this book was somewhat more prioritizing of one primary sexual relationship as compared to Feel It All.

About Feel It All and Come As You Are: If you can read only one chapter, read the chapter on nonconcordant desire in Come As You Are. Whatever genitals you have, you need to understand this. If you can read only one of these books, read Come As You Are, which I say because there’s just so much foundational information in this book. But I really, really recommend reading both of these books because I think Feel It All goes beyond the scope of Come As You Are when it comes to how expansive the emotional landscape can be.

Other recommendations:

I Feel Love by Rachel Nuwer: This is a book about the history, present, and possible future of MDMA, also known as ecstasy, with hopes for its therapeutic and recreational use. The book doesn’t shy away from past issues with production and club culture, though.

The Golden Enclaves by Naomi Novik: This is the last book of the Scholomance Trilogy; I liked the whole series and this final book did a great job at tying together everything that was set up in the previous books. It’s only not in favorites because I don’t like including later series books there.

Solaris by Stanislaw Lem: This is a science fiction classic that I recommend to people who want to have a greater understanding of science fiction as a genre. But it is one of those stories where the main character’s perspective on women makes me doubt his ability to make accurate observations of other(s) who aren’t human at all.

The Just City by Jo Walton: What if Athena and Apollo caused humans to try to actually create the city as described in Plato’s Republic? People are plucked from throughout history to find out if the philosopher-king society can actually work. I found the book thoughtful it its perspective and recommend it to everyone who has had to read the Republic and was annoyed at any point.

The Fabric of Civilization by Virginia Postrel: There’s too much about fabric to fit in one book. So here’s another to blow your mind even MORE about cloth.

The Odyssey translated by Emily Wilson: I agree with a lot of the philosophy of translation as described in the introduction to this book, as well as the discussion of the balance that needs to be found between evoking a world very foreign to our own but also conveying a story that the original listeners would have heard as vibrant and exciting. I recommend this to anyone who is interested in The Odyssey but hasn’t ever read the original—it’s very different from every adaptation I’ve encountered.

Mirrored Heavens by Rebecca Roanhorse: This is the third and final book in the Between Earth and Sky series, which is epic fantasy set in a world that draws from non-Columbian Central America (and North America by this point, there’s more traveling in this last book). I recommend this whole series, especially if you like people having to deal with finding themselves named characters in apocalypse-level events unexpectedly (except for one guy, he knew about it, but it’s not really great for him either).

Dungeon Meshi by Ryoko Kui: You don’t need me to recommend Dungeon Meshi. It’s all over the place. It’s still really good, and now that I’ve finished reading the series I can’t wait to see it all animated.

And again, I’m deeply aware I’m not typical when it comes to book numbers. Just don’t worry about it.

[atopfourthwall]

Ive only recently gotten into classic Star Trek so I don't think I can properly answer but what is it specifically about Discovery and recent Star Trek that classic Trek fans hate?

Putting this behind a cut because... it's a lot.

Well, first of all a big rejection of it is just on an aesthetic level. Up until the 2009 movie (which was considered a reboot, even with time travel elements), Star Trek tried to treat the original series and how it was portrayed as pretty sacrosanct. Sure, they might occasionally make jokes about goofier aspects of it and discard some of the stupider stuff (like how in the final episode, penned by Gene Roddenberry himself, that women weren't allowed to Captain starships), but how TOS looked? That's how the 23rd century looked. Buttons and multi-colored outfits and boxy computers and smooth, undetailed ships WAS what was appropriate for the time. When Scotty came back in TNG, they had him on the holodeck and it was the TOS bridge. When DS9 traveled back in time to that era for an episode? They went onto the Enterprise and visited it. When in an Enterprise 2-parter we had a TOS-era ship? It looked like a TOS ship. They even did a 2-parter on Enterprise to explain why Klingons had smooth foreheads when later (and earlier) they didn't. Star Trek up until then cared about maintaining that continuity of appearance. But Discovery is set in the TOS era... but nothing looks like TOS. Even when we got the Enterprise and those uniforms and we saw inside the ship, it was an upgraded form. The only logic I've seen people try to argue about WHY it doesn't look like it actually did was "Well, audiences won't accept something as cheap as TOS being futuristic." Well, then you've got a few responses there: -Don't set in TOS era, then. -That's horseshit, because audiences from the 90s through the 2000s accepted it just fine. Even a piece of dialogue from DS9 explained it perfectly: "I LOVE 23rd century design." It LOOKS cheap, but it was just the aesthetics of the period. And the Enterprise 2-parter it still looked good in HD. Hell, arguably it looked BETTER in HD because they knew how to light it and create mood and its own unique flavor. -It's even more horseshit because people are STILL going back and watching it even today, as indicated by you saying you've started watching it, so clearly it's not that much of a barrier. But what's even more egregious is the TECHNOLOGY. You might be able to accept updated aesthetics if at least matches what was present during the period... and it doesn't. Holographic displays and communication (holodeck technology AT ALL, frankly - it's possible it was there, but TNG seemed pretty adamant that the holodecks were fairly new, very impressive technology), weapons not looking or acting like they traditionally did, Enterprise and Discovery having R2D2-style repair droids that certainly did not exist in TOS, the wrong sound effects being frequently employed, replicator technology for good-looking food instead of food dispensers that gave out marshmallows and cubes, and honestly the tech level shown in Discovery looks just as advanced - if not MORE advanced than seen on TNG 100 years later. And this is a minor thing, but despite the attempt to make the future LOOK futuristic, from a cultural perspective, the future looks... way too damn similar to now. The excessive swearing (it was said in particular in Star Trek 4 that while they certainly did cuss, it was less common and they sure as hell weren't dropping F-bombs), a party on Discovery that looked like a rave (when previously it seemed like the most popular music and culture of the 23rd/24th century was considered fairly high-brow entertainment [classical music, Shakespeare, great works of literature and plays, etc.] - and while you could certainly argue that that snootiness and love of that stuff is a problem with Star Trek and a sign of how sterile and homogenized it is, THAT is the future they presented and a character in Voyager loving some of the goofier parts of 20th century culture like jukeboxes and old sci-fi serials was considered unusual), and just the general way people talk betrays the idea that the writers aren't thinking about how society changes in the future. It's just the modern day, but with cooler technology. But hey, let's set aside the general aesthetics - some people aren't going to mind that and find

ways to handwave away a lot of stuff (even Discovery season 2 TRIED to handwave away stuff like the holographic communications, but did a piss-poor job of it). This brings us to the problem of the WRITING. And the problem with the writing is a big Michael Burnham-shaped indentation. To be clear, I don't mind Michael as a character or her actress - there are interesting aspects to her, centering a Star Trek show around the science officer is a neat idea (though that means you should probably NAME IT AFTER HER and not around the ship, because it suggests this is a standard ensemble group and not JUST her)... but the actual execution is that it feels like the entire universe bends over backwards for HER. She has a unique relationship with a beloved longtime character that is retconned in. She has unique relationships with several important characters to the point where the fate of billions of people hinges on her and the decisions she makes. She is presented as almost always correct about everything, and those that oppose her are often wrong, naïve, or active enemies. Now, this is less of an issue in the third season - but that has its own unique problems - but in the first season, the resolution of two major storylines (mirror universe and the Klingon war) revolves around her and her relationship to the Terran Emperor and Lorca. In season 2, her mother trying to help or save her is the basis of the ENTIRE friggin' plot with time travel and the like, with special knowledge and history having to do with her and everyone ready to abandon their lives for her so she won't be alone when she has to go to the future when arguably they barely know her (the timeline of the show is debatable). Season 3 has a few different problems with her - the first is that she keeps being involved in things that don't concern her (why is she going down to Trill?) and she keeps violating orders. Now, her violating orders is a problem throughout the entirety of Discovery - in fact, it's kind of the instigating factor OF the series. And arguably, other Star Trek characters are guilty of that and they face no consequences, just as she faces none... and yet it's the brazenness with which it happens, and in those other series it's arguable because the series tries to avoid excessive continuity changes for its episodic nature, so the status quo MUST return to normal... but Discovery is pivoted as one of MAJOR continuity, so her lack of consequences (and indeed eventual PROMOTION) is baffling to the point of frustration. Now again, let me be clear here - she is not a bad character in and of herself. Honestly what it shows is that being the science officer on a starship is not where her talents lie. She should be in a position where she has a lot more freedom to act and not in a major command structure... but being in that command structure, what we see in season 3 is that she lacks the discipline, emotional maturity, responsibility, leadership qualities, and general other traits necessary to be a Captain. Only once during season 3 did she display such a quality - putting the safety of the Federation above a friend and colleague... but other times she will happily disobey orders and put herself and others in harm's way, creating potential new problems. Now, again, Star Trek is rife with characters doing that... but usually not the Captains. And, in fact, when this happened once on DS9 with one officer disobeying orders and putting their own personal feelings above the greater responsibility, it was made VERY clear that the incident would mean that they would never be able to command a starship because of the unofficial reprimand. What's even more frustrating about her is that the character is ALWAYS shoved to the forefront so much to the point where we just get sick of her. SHE is the one giving log entries (usually pretty piss-poor ones, at that - very flowery and nonsensical and kind of dumb) and not the Captain. SHE is the one given so much focus and how the plot of the episode affects her. Barely anyone else gets any focus episodes - I STILL can't

remember the names of some of the secondary characters because they're so rarely said, and a PTSD-related plotline in season 3 for one of the secondary characters basically gets resolved OFF-SCREEN. Michael would be fine if we actually had a chance to miss her... but we never do. Arguably one of the best episodes of the show is in season 2, when it focuses on Saru and his people because Michael DOES take a back seat. It's his story and his development and problems relating to him and his people. And even if, again, we forgave the idea of so much focus on her even in plots that aren't about her... she never seems to really change that much. She'll TALK about how she's changed, but I see no real difference in the way she acts (MAYBE season 1 to 2, where in season 1 she was stiffer and more Vulcan-like, but that's it). But hey, let's assume that's not a problem for you - you really, REALLY like Michael and are fine with so much focus on her. Simply put, the writing of the rest of the show... is just kind of dumb. The ship is powered by magic mushrooms that let it teleport everywhere because the universe has super fungus capillaries throughout it that nobody can see and also it's magic and can resurrect the dead. The time travel plot of season 2 doesn't make any sense when you sit down and diagram it. Well-established Trek lore is just kind of sprinkled in, but now in ways that doesn't match what it was before or at least in ways that completely recolor how it's supposed to work, because it needs to serve THIS plot. Everyone remembering a murdererous monster fondly after she leaves because "Hey, she was coooool." The explanation for the big mystery in season 3 is just fricking stupid and one of the two big reasons why I've finally given up on Discovery, because it's just so absurd, doesn't match how anything works, and just feels like the writers giving the middle finger to the audience because they care more about "YOU MUST FEEEEEEL THINGS!" instead of it making sense. And indeed, there is certainly a balance to be made of plot vs. emotion-driven storytelling - some stories are dumb, but are forgivable because the character writing and emotion are so strong that they override how goofy the plot is... but sometimes a plot is just so dumb it overrides anything I'm SUPPOSED to feel. And it would help if I already liked the show, already gave it some benefit of the doubt... but I don't and it hasn't done enough to impress me. A little thing that's a problem with ALL of current modern Trek shows is that whole sprinkling lore thing - I don't think a single episode goes by in ANY current modern Trek series that doesn't have a random reference to classic Trek lore. A name, a line of dialogue, etc. It comes across like the creators don't trust you to enjoy it on its own merits, but want you to like it because "Hey, remember thing? We know about thing! Like us because we mentioned thing!" But hey, I recognize that these are things that other people may not have any problem with or just disagree in general. But for me and my family, these are the big ones that keep us from enjoying it. Hell, my brother and dad still watch it for hatewatching purposes, but I was done after season 3. I gave it plenty of chances to impress me, and while each season MARGINALLY got better as it went along, I'm tired of waiting to actually like it and to stop feeling like it thinks I'm a fucking idiot. If other people still like it, great - it clearly appeals to them in a way that it doesn't appeal to me and they are free to enjoy it. Other people probably have their own issues, but this long, rambly bit is the major stuff for me.

[lemonandtheart]

@gxmonth Day 18 - This Wasn't In The Rule Book!! vampire au vampire aU VAMPIRE AU~~!! I have always been such a sucker for monsters and magic lol. I wrote a little fanfic drabble a hot minute ago that I'll include under the cut!

There were rumors running rampant all through Domino. Breathless whispers through the crowds of its residents. They spread fear like the plague, but who could blame them? With all of the people who’d gone missing never to be seen again it was only natural such a fear would grow until it had reached an unprecedented proportion. Whether it was truth or not didn’t matter because to the people of Domino there was no doubt. A vampire was on the loose through the city streets after nightfall.

Despite the lack of evidence, Jesse Andersen hoped the rumors true. He’d come a long way to hunt down this supposed dirty bloodsucker. His friend, Jim, had offered to come along on the journey too but Jesse had declined. They didn’t truly know if there was a vampire in Domino City. He’d certainly find out after dark. Since the people of Domino had been keeping holed up inside at night the past few months, he was sure the parasite had to be starved by now.

A chill settled in the night air once the sun fully disappeared over the horizon. Jesse pulled his thick, black jacket tighter to his chest. It would be a long night. He was glad he’s had the foresight of buying himself a hot coffee before the shops closed. It warmed him from the inside out as he perused the streets. Hopefully one of two things would occur: either there was no vampire and he’d be on his merry way after a quick report back to the Vampire Hunter’s Association or there was a parasitic lowlife lurking among the shadows that he would eliminate well before the sun would rise again. Either way Jesse felt that he’d be headed home within the next few days.

He paused underneath of a spotlight near a fountain. It wasn’t running and with the high-rise buildings surrounding he felt even the nearly silent sound of his pulse was amplified. It was quiet—eerily so. Not a thing in the whole city seemed to make any noise and the stillness of it was deafening. A soft, distant tapping of heels against pavement was a deliberate break in the silence. Jesse set his hand on the small stake launcher secured to his belt. The sound echoed and made it seem to come from everywhere at once. He slowly backed up to the fountain, craning his neck around to try and find the direction of the noise. Any direction would do. What he wasn’t expecting was the freezing hands on his shoulders matched with a silken, sultry voice from directly behind him. “Well, what’s a pretty thing like you doing here?”

Jesse jolted from the grasp and yanked the weapon from its holster, aiming it squarely at the chest of the man, no, monster he was looking for. He had messy, untamable, two-toned brown hair and a set of gleaming golden eyes staring hungrily at him. He wore a low-cut V-neck shirt that nearly slit down to his stomach, the two sides of the fabric held together by thin string tied crossways. The sleeves, he noticed, were ruffled when he moved his hands up to the sides of his head — palms facing forward in a show of submission. His pants buttoned and sat snugly on his thin hips before disappearing beneath his high-heeled boots at the knee. The heels dug into the stone of the fountain he stood upon; the streetlights the ideal backdrop for his cape he wore over the ensemble. It fastened just above his clavicle with a jeweled button. Jesse sneered in disgust at the creature, but more so at the choice of apparel. It was far too extra, making him look more like a movie villain than a bloodthirsty creature of night. “Hasn’t anyone warned you it’s dangerous to be out so late at night?” The vampire questioned.

“I could ask the same to you, vampire.” Jesse responded, gesturing to the launcher aimed still at his chest. The vampire chuckled.

“Perhaps, but I own these streets. The name’s Jaden by the way. Jaden Yuki. To whom do I owe the pleasure of meeting this lovely evening?”

“Jesse Andersen. Sorry to say, but these streets were never yours.” Jaden kept his hands raised but stepped down from his position atop the fountain’s rim. Jesse began backing up, his eyes and shot never leaving the vampire as he strutted towards him.

“Is that so?” He drawled, continuing his slow approach. Jesse’s fingers twitched on the trigger, the small movement pushing Jaden to respond. He kicked high, knocking the weapon out of Jesse’s hands and into the sky. It came crashing back to the Earth and hit the rock of the fountain with a horrendous crack, bouncing into the water in a jagged movement. Jesse’s eyes widened at the horror of being disarmed. He hadn’t expected to find an adversary of any remarkable skill on the streets of Domino. Now, only panic and fear pooled in his stomach as he kept his eyes locked on Jaden’s. “Care to tell me what brings you here, Jesse?”

“You.”

“Me?” Jaden asked, cocking his head to the side in an innocent way.

“Obviously! You’re the one who’s been kidnapping people for the past few months!” Jesse’s words only seemed to confuse Jaden more. He furrowed his brow hard.

“Wait, wait. Hold on a minute. First of all, I haven’t kidnapped anyone ever! I haven’t even been out from the lair in a year or so! I’ve been—”

“I thought you owned these streets?” Jesse sassed.

“Well, ehe, I thought it’d sound cool. Didn’t it?” Jaden admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“That doesn’t matter!” Jesse exclaimed, shaking Jaden’s shoulders. Jaden pouted.

“Fine, fine. Anyways, I’m not the one you’re after.”

“Great! Now I’m stuck in the heart of Domino with two vampires wandering the streets with no weapon.” He whined, coming to sit at the fountain. Jaden shrugged casually.

“There are plenty more vampires than that here, but okay.” An idea struck Jesse, fast and hard and stupid. So stupid, in fact, it just might work.

“You!” He exclaimed suddenly, rushing Jaden and squeezing his shoulders roughly. Jaden blinked slowly at him.

“Me?”

“Yes! You’ve got to know all the vampires around here!”

“So?”

“So, you must know the one responsible! You can help me!” Jaden’s eyes narrowed, intrigue taking over.

“Oh? And what’s in it for me?” He purred. Jesse gulped but didn’t let the fear register. He knew it’d make his job so much easier to play the enemy. If he could get Jaden to work with him, he could eliminate not only the immediate threat but Jaden as well. Killing two vampires with one stake. All he had to do was play his cards right.

“Would…some of my blood be fine enough payment?” He asked, playing as though he was embarrassed by such an idea. He’d noticed many vampires he’d dealt with in the past responded well if he pretended like he was new, nervous, and never before bitten. It was like the idea of being the first to drink from a human was a special treat that was rarely given. He’d been bitten plenty by vampires and honestly it wasn’t that bad. It only would become a problem should he take his lifeblood—the true way to turn a human into a vampire. Jaden pursed his lips as Jesse lowered the collar of his jacket, offering payment upfront for his cooperation. He closed in on Jesse, gripping his biceps and wetly licking a stripe up Jesse’s neck to his ear. Jesse hated the way his body shuddered at the feeling, both of the lick and Jaden’s hot breath now in his ear. Though, he was also grateful for it. It helped to sell the unspoken act of it being his first time. He bit his own lip, mentally preparing himself for Jaden’s fangs. It was always the initial jab that was the worst part. A short, single noise of amusement left Jaden’s mouth before his answer rang numbly in his ear.

“No.” Jesse felt his eyes widen when Jaden pulled back to look Jesse in the face, a casual smirk present on his lips. He had never once in all of his time dealing with vampires ever had one turn down a willing, easy meal. It was astounding and almost admirable. Jaden was on an entirely new level of vampire he’d never seen before. He could feel his cheeks flush with real embarrassment of being turned down so casually. What, was his blood not good enough? “I came up for a reason tonight, Jesse. Would you like to know it?” Words failed, so he simply nodded. Jaden closed the short distance between them and slotted his chin in the juncture of Jesse’s neck, lips less than an inch away from Jesse’s ear. He whispered like he was revealing a grand secret. “You see, I’ve very recently come of age. It’s time to build a court of my own, but to do that I have to prove myself. Know how?” His answer was a shake of the head. He could feel Jaden’s smirk grow. “I have to turn a human into a vampire in front of everyone I know. A little ceremony if you will. I was hoping to find myself a willing participant to join my court. My first member. That’s all I could ever ask for.”

The color that’d been building in Jesse’s face drained. He was terrified in the, albeit gentle, grip of a vampire that wanted to turn him. It was a good thing in a way. At least Jaden didn’t have any desire to kill him, and that made him feel a bit better. Still, with all the vampires Jesse’d seen he’d never truly spoken to one longer than necessary. In one short description from Jaden, he felt like he’d learned more of the societal structure of vampires than he had in his relatively short career. Jaden pulled away from him, making eye contact with Jesse. He could feel the icy cold of Jaden’s fingers on the skin of his face. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Jesse shook his head, hoping to tune back in. “What?” He asked. Jaden shook his head softly, tsking.

“I said that if you wanted to, we could have a little fun. Make a game of it. Only if you’re a willing participant of course. I’d hate to coerce you into a life you’re uncomfortable with.”

“A game of what?”

“Rewards! If you win, I’ll help you track the vampire behind the disappearances and as an added bonus I’ll leave Domino. But if I win, you’ll stay and become my first court member. We can still track the vampire down, that’s a given. Either way you’ll still benefit in one fashion or another.”

“And what game will we be playing?”

“How’s hide and go seek? I know it’s a bit unfair since I know the city better than you, so we can keep tally at the fountain. Say, five minutes to hide and ten to seek? We’ll play ‘till dawn, so twelve rounds. No rooftops, no going into buildings, no turning into bats. Sound fair?” Jaden extended his hand to Jesse. His heart pounded in his chest. He couldn’t believe he was even considering it, but it was true. Jaden was the best bet of actually locating the vampire he was looking for, and even if he lost Jaden didn’t seem like that bad of a guy. He was inclined to take Jaden’s hand, so he did. A searing pain ran up his arm and radiated through his body. “The oath is bound. I’ll seek first.” He turned his back to Jesse, covering his eyes with his hands. “One…Two…Three…”

Jesse ran as fast as his legs could carry him. The people of Domino were depending on him to end their blight. He had to win. He felt a sort of obligation to rid the world of these vermin. Yet, there was something about Jaden Yuki that’d drawn him in way too far for a first encounter. His initial presence had felt intimidating, domineering, and had in an instant become soft and genuine. It felt so wrong to see any good in one of those filthy creatures of the night, but Jesse couldn’t help it. He could sense the overwhelming good nature of Jaden and it made him feel inclined to believe that this would be a fair game.

That was five minutes. Jesse tucked himself tight into an alleyway. He slowed his breathing, trying hard not to give himself away. The click of Jaden’s heels against the concrete filled every crevasse and made it impossible to know how close or far Jaden really was. The gentle glow of the moon and the harsh lights of the city around were the only means Jesse had of sight. He wished desperately for the warmth of the sun. This alley felt like static on his skin. The clicking finally stopped. He held his breath, shifting slightly back behind the boxes he was obscured by. “Found you!” Jaden smirked. He’d moved so fast he’d nearly materialized out of thin air. “Alright! One to nothin’! Better catch-up Jess, unless you secretly do want to be a vampire!” He stuck out his tongue past his sharp teeth before taking off down the alley. Jesse couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face. This was actually kind of fun. Jaden, as dangerous as he had the potential to be, actually was making this unfortunate situation fun.

He found Jaden easily, far too easily. He’d been out in the open, almost waiting for him. With each passing round Jaden found him with unfathomable ease and Jesse him with increasing difficulty. It all came down to the final round – Jaden’s six to Jesse’s five. It was Jesse’s turn to seek. “Good luck, Jess. I can’t wait to see how good you’ll look on the ceremonial altar for me!” He winked suggestively and, in a flash, he was gone. Jesse closed his eyes and willed the color from his face. He was a grown ass man. He could deal with comments like that! He could! He began his count.

There was breeze now that brushed and caressed his skin with an all-new chill. It made him feel uncertain. Could he really find Jaden? He had been getting harder and harder to find. If he failed to find him, he’d still finish the job he’d come to the city to do. The only difference was that he wouldn’t be leaving. His heart fluttered in his chest. It was making him feel fuzzy to think about. He didn’t hate the idea; he hadn’t hated the idea from the start actually. If he had, he wouldn’t’ve agreed to play. Hell, he didn’t even hate vampires down to his core like most of his friends did. He’d mostly joined to thanks to Jim’s glowing reference and the promise of traveling about. You had to dehumanize vampires to bring yourself to kill them. He’d gotten good at it and he loved to be good at something. He didn’t think now though that even if a good opportunity showed itself that he could go through killing Jaden. He’d done an excellent job at humanizing himself from the start to Jesse.

His counted ended and the final chase began. He only had until the sun rose now. Domino was huge and for once that evening, he actually felt defeated. Still, he pressed onwards and kept his search going. Every alley, every street, behind every garbage can and every car. It was like Jaden had disappeared entirely until finally he reached the first place he’d hidden. “Jaden! I know you’re there!” Jesse bluffed. He heard a chuckle come from behind him and flipped around. Jaden was so close, leaning in towards him.

“So close and yet so far.” Jaden said, gesturing over his shoulder. The sun had already begun to slink over the horizon. He felt Jaden’s thin but strong arms wrap around him and a swirling vortex of black consumed them.

[especially-the-beans]

ok i know a normal amount about marvel and a lot about musical theater so here’s how i would write rogers the musical

putting this under a read more bc this is long af

ACT ONE: the whole first act is captain america the first avenger. i have not seen this movie since like 2014 so this is very limited by what i remember from that movie lol

Opening number is a big, worldbuilding ensemble number setting the scene in 1940s America, there’s a war going on, etc. This is also Steve’s “I Want” song, where he’s expressing how he wants to go to war bc he wants to be a hero. Bucky is here and is like "aw stevey leave the hero business to us big boy's bc i'm going off to war!" or whatever.

Steve joins the army and we have a “Be a Man” or “Put You in Your Place” type song with Peggy that ends with Steve jumping on the fake bomb. This reinforces Steve’s idea that to be a hero you have to be, y’know, a big strong soldier dude.

Peggy gets her obligatory girlboss number about how no one respects her bc she’s a woman (think “Watch What Happens” or “My Grand Plan”).

Steve gets the serum and becomes Captain America and we get a few verses of a soliloquy where Steve wonders what’s coming next and expresses his excitement that now he can finally be a hero.

Then after that i vaguely remember what happens lol so in general the rest of the act includes:

- a red skull villain song where he tap dances like voldemort in AVPM

- a USO number where all the girls are tap dancing and steve's like "i can't dance!" And then all of a sudden he starts perfectly tap dancing and says "i didn't know that came with the serum too!" (like in “Friend Like Me”)

- When bucky falls off the train steve has a sad soliloquy like Santa Fe from newsies and immediately afterwards there's an unnecessary steve & peggy romance number that makes him happy again

- Steve is in the plane crashing and as he's talking to peggy or looking at her picture or whatever he sings a reprise of his sad song that he sang when bucky fell off the train

- The act ends when he crashes and we immediately move to him waking up in present day and he looks around and goes like what the fuck? And then curtain closes.

ACT TWO: We do the rest of Steve’s story and throw plot and canon to the wind bc he’s the main character here and we have to parallel the narrative structure of the first act.

Opening number - “Where Do You Belong”/”Meet the Plastics “ but with the Avengers introducing themselves and teaching Steve pop culture references during the battle of New York. This is all we keep of The Avengers lol. Tony gets the largest solo in this song to introduce him as the other leader of the Avengers.

We move to beginning of Winter Soldier and Steve running laps around Sam and they have a little duet bonding over being soldiers and feeling out of place where they ended up.

We’re skipping all the Hydra stuff here. Isn’t important. Bucky shows up as the Winter Soldier and he has some rock villain song with Steve battling him. At the end of the battle Steve gets thrown to the ground and knocked out and despite denying he recognized him the whole time, Bucky pulls him out of the way of danger just like at the end of the movie before running off.

Steve gets up and talks to Sam and vows to find Bucky. While they’re talking the scene sets up behind them and Tony shouts “Steve! Are you listening?” and we move into the scene of the Avengers discussing the Sokovia accords. Steve and Tony argue about them. (Yes we’re fully skipping Age of Ultron bc Steve does nothing in that movie)

Steve reunites with Bucky and they have a short reprise of their opening number but it's in a minor key and their lines don't match up bc their relationship isn't what it once was.

We have some more infighting bw Steve & Tony & and the rest of the Avengers or whatever happens in the movie, leading Steve to have his “Who Am I?” song, thinking, “"where do my values lie? With my country or with my friends?" questioning what type of hero he’s supposed to be and if the choices he’s making are correct.

Rather than the big Civil War fight scene we focus on the scene where he's fighting with Tony, bc Tony represents all the Avengers, and Tony is like "why are you choosing this man from your past rather than the people who need you?" Very “The Confrontation” from Les Miz and the Russian supersoldiers are the ensemble.

Steve runs away and goes into hiding like the end of Civil War/beginning of Infinity War. Here we get our obligatory second act Mob Song of citizens turning against him/his reputation being ruined.

Steve’s all bummed out now bc he’s lost his reputation as a hero, he’s lost most of his friends, etc. We move Peggy’s funeral to here - he’s now at his lowest bc he’s also lost one of the last people from his past. He and Sam sneak in to the funeral and they hear Sharon give the “stand like a tree” eulogy (contrasting with Peggy’s act one Be a Man song, which gave the impression that to be a man/hero you had to be physically strong and aggressive, whereas here the message is to trust your gut and be emotionally strong). This heals some of Steve’s inner turmoil.

We move into Infinity War and Tony and the other Avengers have a scene like “The Election of 1800″ where they’re like shit this Thanos stuff is bad... we gotta bring back Captain America.

Then we just jump to the big Infinity War battle bc i don't remember what happens in this movie and the snap happens and we have a short reprise of the Meet the Avengers song but in a minor key and all their lines fade out as they get snapped. (Side note - Thanos should be like the giantess in Into the Woods; we never see his face and we just hear his voice echoing from offstage.)

HARD CUT to support group Steve! Then we screw the time travel plot and fully change the ending of Endgame (we’re doing the skinny Steve ending that someone came up with on here or Tiktok or something). Tony's like "we have to go get the stones again" or whatever and we have Steve go get the soul stone. He faces Red Skull again and Red Skull has a JCSS “King Herod”-esque song where he's like "you're Captain America huh?? Some hero! Can't even save your friends or your country! You suck!!" And asks "so what are you going to offer me for the soul stone?"

This transforms (without the song really ending) into a deep Steve soliloquy where he's like "what do i even have to offer? I've lost everyone i care about, i don't even know what i'm doing anymore." His JCSS “Gethsemene”. And he decides to offer up Captain America

So Red Skull turns him back into skinny Steve and they go do the big Endgame battle and all the other Avengers are like trying to protect him bc he ‘s wimpy now but then he still can pick up Mjolnir and stuff and helps win the battle!!!

And then everyone comes back from the snap and we get like a finale ending song where they're all buddies and all the Avengers lift him up on their shoulders and are like "yay Steve you're a hero!!!" He reunites with Sam and Bucky and everybody and happy shit. This contains hints of a reprise of Steve’s opening number “I Want” song, as he now is sure that being a hero is about trusting his instincts to help and protect people and to be strong on the inside, not necessarily the outside.

[bimboamyrose]

Unfamiliar - A Metamy Fanfic (Ch. 3)

hi babes~ thanks to those of you that messaged me your thoughts on the first 2 chapters; it encouraged me to continue. just finished looking over ch 3 and thought i would post here as i still have not received my invite to ao3 (does anyone know how long that’s supposed to take?). enjoy and feel free to leave me your ideas and comments ❤️

Ch. 1-2 + synopsis here

Ch.3 – Jagged

Amy and Cream bustled around the kitchen, picking up after their lunch. Metal sat, watching and listening, occasionally looking back at the small whiteboard with his name on it. He pondered about his past silently; wondered what his relationship with Tails, Amy, and Cream had been. What little he could remember only added to the mystery, but for now their simple goodwill was more than appreciated.

“So Cream, what did you need help with?” Amy asked her.

Cream was drying the last of the dishes and handing them to Amy to stack away in the cupboard. “Oh, thanks for reminding me. Actually, I have some schoolwork I need help with. Mom was having trouble with it, too.” Cream didn’t attend a physical school but worked with a tutor occasionally to complete some remote learning at her mother’s behest.

“What kind of work?”

“Some algebra. I find it sort of confusing.”

Amy squirmed uncomfortably. She hadn’t exactly had a formal education and was more well-versed in language and history than math and science anyway. “Don’t you think this is more of a Tails question?”

“He can be so impatient!” Cream huffed.  “I asked him for help a few weeks ago but he got frustrated with me.”

“I can see that,” Amy sighed. Tails was passionate about his work to a fault. He was good-natured and caring, but a strong teacher he was not. The boy was easily exasperated when others failed to keep up with him and generally preferred to work on his projects alone. “You know he means well, Cream. He doesn’t realize what a weird little genius he is,” she giggled.

“I guess so. But do you think you could help me?” Cream pleaded.

Amy shrugged. “I’ll try. But let’s ask him if we get stuck anyway.”

The girls finished clearing up and sat back at the kitchen table with Cream’s notebooks. Metal watched them read from some worksheets and try to work out some problems. Amy guided her through the first two, challenging Cream to finish the equations.

“Okay, let me check if that’s right…” Amy wasn’t totally sure she knew how to solve it either, but was pleased when the answers matched. “It is! Good job, Cream,” she beamed at her friend.

Seeing this, Metal scraped away at the writing on his whiteboard and followed along as they read the next equation out loud.

Amy cleared her throat. “Okay, write this down. ‘5×2 + 6x = 3, solve for x.’ Hmm. Let’s take a look at your notes and see if we can figure this one out…”

It took Metal a second to solve it, and a few more to write it out on the little white tablet. He chimed at the girls, holding up his work for them to see.

Cream looked up from her notes to examine the whiteboard. “Is that right, Amy?”

“Let me see…. Yeah! That’s the answer.” She turned to Metal with an impressed smile. “You’re like a walking calculator, Metal.”

She said his name. She seemed proud of him. That was a strange feeling- but not a negative one. He chimed again as a sense of enjoyment overtook him.

“I wish I could do that! But I have to show my work and I’m not sure where to start…” Cream returned to her notes, trying to understand the steps to take.  

Amy put down the worksheet. “What did you do first, Metal?”

He searched his recent memory for the calculations and scraped the answer off the whiteboard to make way for his response.

“Hey Cream, doesn’t that look a lot like this?” Amy pointed out a sample in Cream’s notes that used a similar structure to Metal’s.

“Oh, I think you’re right.” Cream wrote down what she understood to be the next step to solving the problem and showed it to him. “Is this how you did the next part?”

Her writing matched his earlier calculations and he nodded. It was impressive that she picked it up that quickly, he thought.

“Look at you, Cream! You already know more than I do,” Amy giggled.

She watched as Cream and Metal completed the problem together, matching up each step of the process. It took her a few minutes, but Cream matched Metal’s work exactly each time, arriving at the correct answer. Amy was incredibly relieved at his help- she wasn’t convinced she’d be able to solve it on her own, much less guide her friend through the process. The three answered a few more questions together over the next hour; Amy mostly reading from the answer key to confirm their responses.

“That was the last problem. Finally, that’s out of the way!” Cream cheered. “You guys are lifesavers.”

“I would’ve been useless after the first two problems,” Amy chuckled. “Maybe I should get a tutor, too.”

“You have Metal; I bet he knows a lot of stuff.” Cream responded, packing away her schoolwork.

“I don’t want to make a habit of it…” Amy trailed off. She noticed how dirty the whiteboard had become. Metal had been wiping his palm over it roughly and left scratch marks and marker smudges on the surface. “I think we should get you a new white board.”

“Don’t worry about it, I have another one at home. Metal can keep it! Also, this might come in handy for erasing.” Cream pulled a small cloth out of the front pocket of her bag and reached over the table to hand it to the robot.

He moved to grab it from her hand but stopped. He noticed how his sharp fingers had damaged the tablet. What if he scratched her, too? Metal outstretched his palm for her to drop it in instead.

Outside, the day had grown dim. It was still early, but the snowfall intensified over the last hour to create a dense veil that darkened the house. Visibility was low. It was a minor snowstorm, but Amy still worried about Cream’s return home.

“Hey Cream, why don’t you stay a while until the snow lightens up?” she suggested.

Cream peered through Amy’s sliding glass door off the side of the living room. “Oh! I didn’t realize it was so snowy out…”

“Why don’t we put on a movie to pass some time?”

“Hmm…” Cream pondered. She wasn’t really in the mood to watch anything. “I have a better idea! Let’s play dress up- like old times!”

Amy groaned. “Don’t you think we’re a little old for that?” It had been at least 3 years since they raided Amy’s closet for an impromptu fashion show. The girls had spent many a rainy day during Cream’s childhood arranging outfits.

“Metal’s never played,” Cream reasoned.

Amy scoffed playfully. “I really don’t think my clothes will suit him.”

Cream pouted in response. Her pleading eyes glistened in the dim light, growing ever wider. Her fist pressed to her round cheek as she made direct eye contact with Amy.

Amy rolled her eyes. “I taught you that trick.”

Cream abandoned her pitiful façade just as quickly, clicking her tongue.

“But, I guess there’s not much else to do,” Amy finished.

A look of glee filled the young rabbit’s eyes. She shot up from the table and twirled its perimeter to stop next to Metal. “Come on, let’s find you something to wear!” She tugged on his arm which failed to budge.

Surprised at the sudden contact, Metal turned his gaze to Cream’s delicate hands around his arm. After a moment, he managed to prop himself up without it, still struggling to balance as she attempted to pull him toward the bedroom.

“Be gentle, Cream. His foot is messed up.”

“Oh, right! Sorry, I’ll go at your pace,” the girl beamed at him. She dragged him slowly across the living room into Amy’s room, detailing what color scarf she thought would suit him, and adding that maybe a hat would look good, too.

Amy chuckled to herself as she took in the unusual sight of a young girl attempting to lug a clunky robot into a makeshift fashion show. She cleared some eraser shavings from the table and soon followed.

 It was as if a tornado had blown through Amy’s closet with the express purpose of littering as many clothes around the room as possible. Amy sighed thinking about how she had two messes to clean up now. Her and Metal Sonic watched from the bed; he sat at the edge while Amy crossed her legs and hugged a large pillow in front of her chest. Cream had tried on just about every dress, every blouse, and each pair of shoes that Amy owned. She’d also managed to amass a pile of silk scarves around Metal Sonic’s neck, insisting that layering was all the rage. Cream completed his ensemble by placing a wide-brimmed straw boater atop his head. He looked a bit like a hat rack.

Amy turned to address Metal. “So, how you holding up?”

Metal didn’t look at her but let out a melodic grunt. Amy wasn’t sure what it meant but his stoic gaze surrounded by dainty accessories made her laugh.

“Amy, do you remember this?” Cream excitedly held up two intertwined clothes hangers housing a long pink tank top and a matching pair of flared joggers.

“Oh, wow- that old thing. I wasn’t sure I still had it.”

“I don’t fit into mine anymore,” Cream complained.

“Try this one on then.”                                    

Cream slipped back into the closet to change and Amy took it as an opportunity to get a head start on picking up. It had stopped snowing and there was only maybe an hour of sunlight left- it was time Cream got back home.

When she emerged wearing the athletic set, Cream spun around and posed. “What do you think?”

“The pants are still a little long, but it looks great on you. Why don’t you keep it?”

The girl’s eyes twinkled. “Really? You’d let me have it?”

Amy shrugged. “It doesn’t fit me anymore anyway.” Five years had passed since she last wore the set and Amy had grown a couple of inches taller in that time. It was enough that the pants now sat atop her ankles awkwardly. “Now get changed to your clothes, you should get home before dark.”

Cream thanked her profusely and disappeared back into the wardrobe for the last time. Amy hung as much as she could on the clothes hangers that were strewn about and laid it all on the edge of the bed.

“Do you mind?” She motioned to the hat on Metal’s head. He looked up momentarily and gently lifted it from around his ears to hand to her. “Let me help you with these.” Amy unraveled each of the silky scarves from around him, being careful not to snag the fabric on his pointed shoulders. It was in vein, however, as one of the corners of a gauzy red handkerchief caught around his left side where the tear from his missing arm was jagged. “Oh, shoot…” Amy lamented softly. Metal realized this and hung his head timidly.

When Cream came out, she held up yet another hanger. “Hey Amy, what’s this?”

A bomber-style jacket hung from the plastic frame. It was made of supple black and white satin and adorned with an embroidered rose emblem over the heart.

“Oh…” Amy turned and examined it. “I thought this would made me look tough, but I could never fill it out right,” she giggled. “I just never really wore it.”

“That’s a shame, it’s so nice.” Cream gazed at the jacket, admiring the floral patch. Then she looked up and caught sight of Metal Sonic, who was still sitting quietly on the bed. “Hey, I bet it would look nice on Metal,” she smiled.

“Oh, Cream, don’t bother him with that…”

She approached Metal anyway, holding up the piece. “Would you like to try it on?”

Metal Sonic took a closer look at the soft jacket. It was padded lightly around the shoulders. He stood up then, holding his hand out to her.

Cream gasped with joy, running around the back of the lanky robot. “Hold your arm back, actually!” She had to stand on the bed to slide it over him completely. “What do you think?”

Metal limped toward the full-length mirror that stood next to the wardrobe. He’d momentarily caught sight of himself in it earlier, but this was the first time he really examined his body. He observed his pointy nose and ears. His long, sharp limbs. The noticeable scratch in the paint at the top of his head and the exposed wires that dragged under his right leg. He was frightening. More than that- he was dangerous. Metal had taken the jacket in the hopes it would obscure some of his edges. The left side of it laid limply past the shoulder, but the jacket fit him otherwise and served to soften his appearance. The girls crowded around him suddenly, singing praises.

“It fits you perfectly, Metal.” remarked Amy.

“You look so cute!” Cream giggled.

Amy reached over to zip the jacket most of the way up for him and smoothed it over his shoulders. “I think you should keep it- if you want to that is.”

They both looked up at him expectantly. The unanticipated praise had moved Metal. A sense of nervous joy overcame him and although his expression couldn’t change, he fixed his gaze on the three of them in the mirror and nodded with unquestionable excitement. Metal then placed a palm gingerly atop Cream’s head as she giggled and cheered.

Amy packed up the muffins she’d promised Cream to take home and walked her to the door. Metal joined Amy in seeing her out, imitating the girl as she waved back at the pair. Once Cream was out of sight, Amy closed the door gently so as not to worsen the crack in the wood. Metal was reminded of his strength then, undertaking that he would continue to act tenderly as long as he was going to be under the care of the kind pink girl and her companions.

Ch. 4 (next) 

[comicweek]

It was well over a million feet of film that we shot for Suicide Squad, and it was such a big, big ensemble movie having so many characters that you have to introduce and set up their backstory and the end develop a camaraderie between them all. So, Suicide Squad was a challenge because we had so many characters and at some point we screened it for the studio and they wanted to take things in a different direction. [Warner Bros wanted the] origin of the characters to happen much closer to the beginning and insert a level of comedy into the film.

We ended up having to restructure how the characters were introduced. That was something that we toyed with right up until the movie was finished. In the original structure, the characters are kind of introduced in linear fashion and the way that it ended up, we spent the first 20 minutes like bam, here's this guy, bam, here's this person, here's their origin, here's their backstory. So we kind of shoved everything into the viewer's face right up front so that we could get the story going. Whereas in the original structure, it kind of happened in many events. So you're, you know, 45 minutes in the movie and now we're meeting this person and seeing their backstory. So we found a way to make the film more efficient as far as opening up and introducing all the characters.

I would like to see David's final version of the film. I saw what David was trying to do with the film and I thought it was a pretty bold film. It was less comedy. It was a much darker film. It was almost like a Black Hawk Down type thing. It was just very militarized, very serious. I mean, of course there were supposed to be comedic moments with Will Smith, but it was a darker film. I like where David was going with it and it would be really nice to see him be able to finish what he started. I don't know if that will happen now because of James Gunn’s reboot, which I haven't seen yet, but from the trailer it looks like a lot of fun. It definitely feels like a different vibe than what David Ayer would have made, but I am really looking forward to seeing what James Gunn did because I'm a big fan of his work.

- Kevin Hickman, Suicide Squad editor, on the putting the film together

[danganronpa-21]

B1 with komahina?

All Hajime wants to do is take a nap. Nagito intends to make sure that doesn’t happen.

___________

For Hajime Hinata, living on Jabberwock Island was regularly a test to his patience.

In defence of everyone else, though, he did do this to himself. Technically people wouldn’t have really noticed too much if he just went back out into the real world and started calling himself by Hajime Hinata, because hey, he only looks suspiciously like Izuru Kamakura. There was no proof that the two were the same person, right?

At least, that’s what the others told themselves, for the sake of justifying Hajime’s decision to stay with them. Really, they didn’t know why he chose to stay, especially when he seemed so overwhelmed with them sometimes. It seemed like every day he’d get caught up in one of Kazuichi’s hare-brained schemes, or get looped in to doing Hiyoko’s dirty work. And if he wasn’t serving and spending time with the other members of the island, he was usually being exasperated by what they did when he wasn’t around. On Jabberwock Island, you only made the mistake of doing something Hajime disapproved of once or twice a week. Otherwise, Mikan would start to fear for his blood pressure. And you’d start to wonder if he might really up and leave someday. Sometimes the other islanders would wonder if Hajime might leave, if it weren’t for his boyfriend. Well, that was more something that they joked about. They knew deep down that Hajime loved and cared for them. His relationship with Nagito, the most chaotic person on the island and the biggest test to his patience, would be proof enough of that.

And of course this particular day was no exception. No, he could not have one moment’s peace, so long as Nagito was around. After being put through a long day of anonymous charity work for Future Foundation, all Hajime had wanted to do was take a nap in his cottage. Considering all of the work he’d put in for the foundation, he figured he deserved it. To just curl up in his bed, with a plush pillow under his head and a soft blanket draped over his body… to sleep and sleep until he felt like he’d recovered from the poor sleep he’d had the night prior. That had been his ambition for the day; one that seemed like a foolproof plan. Except for, of course, one tiny problem:

He couldn’t find any pillows.

None!

The moment the realization dawned on him, he didn’t even bother fighting off the groan that tried to escape his lips. His eyes scoured the room desperately in search of at least something, a throw pillow, a neck pillow, a memory foam one… He couldn’t have cared less. He didn’t even care what pillow it was! It could have been one of Ryota’s creepy anime body pillows for all he cared! He just wanted somewhere soft to rest his head. Somewhere soft, and squishy, and comforting… Somewhere that would let him drift off so much easier than the old mattress that sat on his bed. Though he slept on it every night, he never cared much to think about where it came from. He was almost certain that it had been dug out from somewhere unmentionable. He was technically a prisoner, after all. They wouldn’t exactly be sparing him many comforts.

But damn it, at least they had the decency to give him a pillow! A pillow that someone had so rudely stolen. It had been there earlier in the morning after he woke up! What kind of jerk steals a pillow, Hajime grumbled to himself. All of the others should have pillows anyway, there isn’t anyone who should need more. And if they did, it would be a simple matter of asking the foundation for more. Clearly, whoever had stolen Hajime’s pillow was out to get him. That was the only logical explanation. Whoever they were, he was going to make them understand just how wrong it was to steal another man’s pillow, and he could be certain that they were really going to get it. It was just plain wrong to interfere with someone else’s nap like that! They were going to pay, no matter who they were.

Something Hajime had to tell himself twice, as deep down, he knew the pillow thief was probably Nagito.

Now, to be fair, he sort of did tend to assume that everything that went wrong was Nagito’s fault. Not because he didn’t love Nagito — the two had been dating for almost a year now — but because he tended to be a little bit of a troublemaker. While the foundation had done a successful job in getting him some treatment for his more… unusual tendencies (such as his confusing desire to construct bombs on the regular), he still held a tendency to be a bit of a prankster. Especially to Hajime, who he claimed was “obliged to put up with him” on account of their courtship… which was sort of true. But if he were being completely honest, Hajime sort of liked all of Nagito’s little pranks. He always found that there was something charming about his boyfriend’s fit of cute giggles when he was being mischievous. Like his whole face lit up with this sort of glee that he didn’t always show otherwise. After all, Nagito did spend more time than what was healthy talking about what a pathetic person he was. So those moments where he could see his expression twist into one of merriment, where there was little worry on his mind, they meant the world to him. 

However, just because he loved him didn’t mean that he would get away with being a pillow thief. As nice as it was to help people, Hajime dreamt of this nap all afternoon. So whether or not Nagito was cute when he played pranks or not became irrelevant. He fully intended to get his pillow back, and take the nap of the century… whether Nagito liked it or not. He didn’t get a say in the matter.

_________________

Nagito knew he had a say in the matter.

As captor of all of the island’s pillows, truthfully, Nagito did manage to get a lot of say in how these things played out. 

In his defence, his pillow thievery wasn’t to torture his boyfriend. Oh no, quite the opposite. Knowing that Hajime would have probably had a long, hard day, Nagito just wanted to do whatever would allow his partner the opportunity to just relax for once. So he stole his pillows, as well as the pillows of everybody else on the island. Which sounds like something a jerk would do, but he hadn’t done it with the intent to hurt anyone. He did it with the intent to make Hajime happy. He did it with the intent to build his boyfriend the pillow fort of his dreams.

If he were allowed to toot his own horn he would confess that his fort was starting to look pretty darn good. It had seen a sturdy construction, a cheerful decoration, and a meticulous refinement from the inside out. He’d managed to use everyone’s pillows in such a way that would compliment the structure, and keep it from tumbling down with the two inside. Akane and Nekomaru’s pillows were used for the outer walls; they preferred flatter pillows on firmer mattresses, so they were better for support. He’d tossed in Mahiru and Ibuki’s pillows on the outside, too, for the sake of adding a little colour. The two of them had such exciting pillowcases, he’d remarked, his eyes dancing over the green plaid and splashes of neon colours. Such fun reflections of the girls’ personalities! His own pillows were supportive pieces to the ensemble, just as boring as basic as he found himself. But hey, at least they gave support to what spaces needed it. He figured that they should carry the brunt of the weight, so that the more exciting pillows could shine just like their owners did. 

Hajime’s pillows were kept on the inside. They would probably find the best use in there. He found it funny how alike they were to Hiyoko’s or Fuyuhiko’s… all soft and plush, smelling like clean bedsheets and ocean breeze. He couldn’t help but sigh as he breathed in the scent — Hajime always smelled like that. Always smelled like a peaceful calm that Nagito had never known. He couldn’t help but relish it. Just like he hoped Hajime would, when he came in and discovered this pillow fort of solitude. 

The fort was close to completion. All decked out in pink fairy lights and “borrowed” bed sheets, with everyone’s pillows all around to support it… Just a pillow or two more and he could start making the hot chocolate he’d been planning on brewing. Actually, should he do hot chocolate? Jabberwock Island was already hot enough on its own, especially considering it was the middle of the summer. It certainly didn’t help that Hajime was also the hasty type. He’d probably get so excited about having something nice done for him that he’d burn his tongue within the first four seconds. Maybe a different beverage would be the superior choice.Would lemonade be a suitable option? He stopped to ponder the thought. Lemonade was cold and refreshing. He was pretty good at making it, too. His luck always allowed him the perfect combination of sour and sweet, but he usually ended up spilling some of it. He’d need to ask someone else for help with delivering it to the fort, to avoid that unfortunate course of action. But who would be a good choice for that…? Most of the others were busy. Perhaps he could ask Peko, he thought. She had been kind enough to lend him a hand a couple times as of late, when she wasn’t trailing after her new group of friends. If he did decide on lemonade, she’d be the first person he called over.

He supposed he’d need to get access to Hajime’s  laptop somehow, too. Being one of the survivors of the simulated killing game, he received certain privileges that the others did not. One of such privileges was his personal laptop, which he was technically expected to use for work rather than personal leisure. It was a producer of documents and phone calls to mainland (usually to Makoto Naegi, who kept in contact despite his resignation). In this case, though, Nagito hoped for it to be a producer of movies. As a reward for good behaviour, he’d managed to get a couple of movie discs to watch. He and Hajime would use them from time to time when they were bored, but since they actually had this whole set-up now, he figured that there would be no better time to use them. Thankfully, his boyfriend’s laptop would probably be where he expected it to be, in his cabin. He often took it home after doing the day’s work, so Nagito thought perhaps he could beat him back to grab it.

Underline word here being “thought”. A familiar pounding at the door silenced that thought almost just as soon as it was born.

“Hmm?” The former lucky student mumbled, lifting his head from his pillow fortress of extreme joy. Though he knew it was exactly who he thought it would be, he still felt inclined to call out. “Hajime, is that you?”

The answer from the other side of the door was sharp and blunt. An even further proof of what Nagito already knew. “Yes,” He snapped, “I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

Because your pillow is gone, Nagito thought to say, but he didn’t utter them. Instead, he chose to plod up to the door and open it, being greeted by Hajime’s unchecked exasperation. His brows had lowered over his hazel eyes, and though he tried to hide it, Nagito could see that the other man’s jaw was clenched. His lips were even curved downward, a displeased frown apparent on his typically neutral face. It was unlike Hajime to frown quite so intensely. If he had been more vain, he might have worried about frown lines, with the way he was scowling. I must have gotten him bad this time, Nagito thought. 

“Quit stealing all of the pillows!” 

He blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the outburst. What a drama queen, he snickered to himself. He couldn’t help but melt into a relaxed smile at the other’s frustration, mostly on account of the fact that he knew it was flimsy. That grouch wouldn’t last three minutes against Nagito’s pillow fort of love and happiness.  “Hello to you too, Hajime.” 

“Don’t give me that!” He threw his arms up in the air dramatically for a second, following promptly by folding them across his chest. The chest that he’d puffed up a bit, Nagito noted, to show that he meant business. Still, he could barely believe it. He could act big, but everyone knew he was a teddy bear on the inside. “You know exactly what you did, at least own up to it when I confront you.”

Could he take this further? Seeing how sour Hajime was, he kind of wanted to. His ability to push all of the right buttons just made him think about how perfect they were for each other. If he couldn’t mess with him in this way, he might have worried that they weren’t meant to be. It was good that he could tug on his lover’s leg.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

Hajime’s eyes narrowed. “Bullshit!” He gestured to the area behind Nagito, which did, in fact, make all of the stolen pillows incredibly visible. He almost snorted at the mental image of how this whole thing probably looked. The only thing that kept him from doing it was the want to push things further.

So he pretended not to see them. “What are you getting so worked up about? Tough day?”

“Yes,” The other party answered, his scowl slowly transitioning into a childish pout, “I’ve had a long day and I’m exhausted, Nagito, so I just want my pillow. I just want to relax.”

Nagito let out a cheerful hum. “That’s why I stole it.”

“Seriously? You would steal my pillow when I’m tired just to antagonize me?”

He couldn’t help but laugh at his partner, bopping him playfully on the nose. “You’re silly, you know that? Of course I’m not doing it to antagonize you,” He moved aside, gesturing towards the fortress, “I’m trying to help you, see?”

It was almost funny how quickly Hajime cycled through expressions when he caught wind of what Nagito had actually done. At first there were the parted lips and double take of surprise, then the flushed cheeks and the rubbing of his neck, and then finally the bright eyes and warm smile of admiration. That was all it took for Nagito to know that he’d done incredibly well. I wonder if he’s all that embarrassed, he wondered internally, having accused me of toying with him when all I wanted to do was help.

When he finally spoke, his voice came out soft. “You… built me a pillow fort?” So soft that Nagito had barely caught it, amongst the roar of the waves and the cries of island birds. “So I could relax…?”

He nodded, sticking his tongue out at his boyfriend playfully. Sure, he didn’t want him to feel bad about how he’d reacted, considering it was justified. But he definitely did want to tease him about it, just a little. “Yep! I was thinking we could do like, a movie night or something. I was just going to see if I could sneak in and grab your laptop.”

If Hajime hadn’t been embarrassed before, he was now. Nagito could see it in the way that he averted his gaze, turning his head more towards the ground. He never did like to admit too much when he’d made a mistake.

“Are you going to say sorry, now?” 

“Sorry.” 

“Sorry for?” He pressed further, bouncing on the heels of his feet. 

“Sorry for getting all high-strung about the pillow thing… You were just trying to do something nice for me.”

Nagito couldn’t help but giggle, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to Hajime’s cheek. He swore he could feel the other man’s face heat up at the action, still unaccustomed to such affections somehow. The fact that he would still blush madly despite their almost year of dating only made him giggle more. 

“It’s okay. I know what you’re like when you’re sleepy. Now what do you say we go get your laptop and some lemonade, and settle into our pillow fort?” 

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Hajime replied, giving a cheeky wink, “Maybe we can even sneak a couple of cookies out, too. Mahiru was in the kitchen baking some last I checked.”

“Ooh! I like the way you think, Hajime!”

[letterboxd]

Bong Hit!

Today Parasite overtook The Godfather as the highest-rated narrative feature film on Letterboxd. We examine what this means, and bring you the story of the birth of the #BongHive.

It’s Bong Joon-ho’s world and we’re just basement-dwelling in it. While there is still (at time of publication) just one one-thousandth of a point separating them, Bong’s Palme d’Or-winning Parasite has overtaken Francis Ford Coppola’s Oscar-winning The Godfather to become our highest-rated narrative feature.

In May, we pegged Parasite at number one in our round-up of the top ten Cannes premieres. By September, when we met up with Director Bong on the TIFF red carpet, Parasite was not only the highest-rated film of 2019, but of the decade. (“I’m very happy with that!” he told us.)

Look, art isn’t a competition—and this may be short-lived—but it’s as good a time as any to take stock of why Bong’s wild tale of the Kim and Park families is hitting so hard with film lovers worldwide. To do so, we’ve waded through your Parasite reviews (warning: mild spoilers below; further spoilers if you click the review links). And further below, member Ella Kemp recalls the very beginnings of the #BongHive.

Bong Joon-ho on set with actors Choi Woo-shik and Cho Yeo-jeong.

The Letterboxd community on Parasite

On the filmmaking technique: “Parasite is structured like a hill: the first act is an incredible trek upward toward the light, toward riches, toward reclaiming a sense of humanity as defined by financial stability and self-reliance. There is joy, there is quirk, there is enough air to breathe to allow for laughter and mischief.

“But every hill must go down, and Parasite is an incredibly balanced, plotted, and paced descent downward into darkness. The horror doesn’t rely on shock value, but rather is built upon a slow-burning dread that is rooted in the tainted soil of class, society, and duty… Bong Joon-ho dresses this disease up in beautiful sets and empathetic framing (the camera doesn’t gawk, but perceives invisible connections and overt inequalities)—only to unravel it with deft hands.” —Tay

“Bong’s use of landscape, architecture, and space is simply arresting.” —Taylor Baker

“There is a clear and forceful guiding purpose behind the camera, and it shows. The dialogue is incredibly smart and the entire ensemble is brilliant, but the most beautiful work is perhaps done through visual language. Every single frame tells you exactly what you need to know while pulling you in to look for more—the stunning production design behind the sleek, clinical nature of one home and the cramped, gritty nature of the other sets up a playpen of contrasts for the actors and the script.” —Kevin Yang

On how to classify Parasite: “Masterfully constructed and thoroughly compelling genre piece (effortlessly transitioning between familial drama, heist movie, satirical farce, subterranean horror) about the perverse and mutating symbiotic relationship of increasingly unequal, transactional class relationships, and who can and can’t afford to be oblivious about the severe, violent material/psychic toll of capitalist accumulation.” —Josh Lewis

“This is an excellent argument for the inherent weakness of genre categories. Seriously, what genre is this movie? It’s all of them and none of them. It’s just Parasite.” —Nick Wibert

“The director refers to his furious and fiendishly well-crafted new film as a ‘family tragicomedy’, but the best thing about Parasite is that it gives us permission to stop trying to sort his movies into any sort of pre-existing taxonomy—with Parasite, Bong finally becomes a genre unto himself.” —David Ehrlich

On the duality of the plot: “There are houses on hills, and houses underground. There is plenty of sun, but it isn't for everybody. There are people grateful to be slaves, and people unhappy to be served. There are systems that we are born into, and they create these lines that cannot be crossed. And we all dream of something better, but we’ve been living with these lines for so long that we've convinced ourselves that there really isn’t anything to be done.” —Philbert Dy

“The Parks are bafflingly naive and blissfully ignorant of the fact that their success and wealth is built off the backs of the invisible working class. This obliviousness and bewilderment to social and class inequities somehow make the Parks even more despicable than if they were to be pompous and arrogant about their privilege.

“This is not to say the Kims are made to be saints by virtue of the Parks’ ignorance. The Kims are relentless and conniving as they assimilate into the Park family, leeching off their wealth and privilege. But even as the Kims become increasingly convincing in their respective roles, the film questions whether they can truly fit within this higher class.” —Ethan

On how the film leaps geographical barriers: “As a satire on social climbing and the aloofness of the upper class, it’s dead-on and has parallels to the American Dream that American viewers are unlikely to miss; as a dark comedy, it’s often laugh-aloud hilarious in its audacity; as a thriller, it has brilliantly executed moments of tension and surprises that genuinely caught me off guard; and as a drama about family dynamics, it has tender moments that stand out all the more because of how they’re juxtaposed with so much cynicism elsewhere in the film. Handling so many different tones is an immensely difficult balancing act, yet Bong handles all of it so skilfully that he makes it feel effortless.” —C. Roll

“One of the best things about it, I think, is the fact that I could honestly recommend it to anyone, even though I can't even try to describe it to someone. One may think, due to the picture’s academic praise and the general public’s misconceptions about foreign cinema, that this is some slow, artsy film for snobby cinephiles, but it’s quite the contrary: it’s entertaining, engaging and accessible from start to finish.” —Pedro Machado

On the performative nature of image: “A família pobre que se infiltra no espaço da família rica trata a encenação—a dissimulação, os novos papéis que cada um desempenha—como uma espécie de luta de classes travada no palco das aparências. Uma luta de classes que usa a potência da imagem e do drama (os personagens escrevem os seus textos e mudam a sua aparência para passar por outras pessoas) como uma forma de reapropriação da propriedade e dos valores alheios.

“A grande proposta de Parasite é reconhecer que a ideia do conhecimento, consequentemente a natureza financeira e moral desse conhecimento, não passa de uma questão de performance. No capitalismo imediatista de hoje fingir saber é mais importante do que de fato saber.” —Arthur Tuoto

(Translation: “The poor family that infiltrates the rich family space treats the performance—the concealment, the new roles each plays—as a kind of class struggle waged on the stage of appearances. A class struggle that uses the power of image and drama (characters write their stories and change their appearance to pass for other people) as a form of reappropriation of the property and values ​​of others.

“Parasite’s great proposal is to recognize that the idea of ​​knowledge, therefore the financial and moral nature of that knowledge, is a matter of performance. In today’s immediate capitalism, pretending to know is more important than actually knowing.”)

Things you’re noticing on re-watches: “Min and Mr. Park are both seen as powerful figures deserving of respect, and the way they dismissively respond to an earnest question about whether they truly care for the people they’re supposed to tells us a lot about how powerful people think about not just the people below them, but everyone in their lives.” —Demi Adejuyigbe

“When I first saw the trailer and saw Song Kang-ho in a Native American headdress I was a little taken aback. But the execution of the ideas, that these rich people will siphon off of everything, whether it’s poor people or disenfranchised cultures all the way across the world just to make their son happy, without properly taking the time to understand that culture, is pretty brilliant. I noticed a lot more subtlety with that specific example this time around.” —London

“I only noticed it on the second viewing, but the film opens and closes on the same shot. Socks are drying on a rack hanging in the semi-basement by the window. The camera pans down to a hopeful Ki-Woo sitting on his bed… if the film shows anything, it might be that the ways we usually approach ‘solving’ poverty and ‘fixing’ the class struggle often just reinforce how things have been since the beginning.” —Houston

The birth of the #BongHive

London-based writer and Letterboxd member Ella Kemp attended Cannes for Culture Whisper, and was waiting in the Parasite queue with fellow writers Karen Han and Iana Murray when the hashtag #BongHive was born. Letterboxd editor Gemma Gracewood asked her to recall that day.

Take us back to the day that #BongHive sprang into life. Ella Kemp: I’m so glad you asked. Picture the scene: we were in the queue to watch the world premiere of Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite at Cannes. It was toward the end of the festival; Once Upon a Time in Hollywood had already screened…

Can you describe for our members what those film festival queues are like? The queues in Cannes are very precise, and very strict and categorized. When you’re attending the festival as press, there are a number of different tiers that you can be assigned—white tier, pink tier, blue tier or yellow tier—and that’s the queue you have to stay in. And depending on which tier you’re in, a certain number of tiers will get into the film before you, no matter how late they arrive. Now, yellow is the lowest tier and it is the tier I was in this year. But, you know, I didn’t get shut out of any films I tried to go into, so I don’t want to speak ill of being yellow!

So, spirits are still high in the yellow queue before going to see Parasite. I was with friends and colleagues Iana Murray [writer for GQ, i-D, Much Ado About Cinema, Little White Lies], Karen Han [New York Times, Vanity Fair, Vulture, The Atlantic] and Jake Cunningham [of the Curzon and Ghibliotheque podcasts] who were also very excited for the film. We queued quite early, because obviously if you’re at the start of a queue and only two yellow tier people get in, you want that to be you.

So we had some time to spare, and we’re all very ‘online’ people and the 45 minutes in that queue was no different. So we just started tweeting, as you do. We thought, ‘Oh we’re just gonna tweet some stuff and see if it catches on.’ It might not, but at least we could kill some time.

So we just started tweeting #BongHive. And not explaining it too much.

#BongHive

— karen han (@karenyhan)

May 21, 2019

Within the realms of stan culture, I would argue that hashtags are more applicable to actors and musicians. Ariana Grande has her army of fans and they have their own hashtag. Justin Bieber has his, One Direction, all of them. But we thought, ‘You know who needs one and doesn’t have one right now? Bong Joon-ho.’

And so, you know, we tweeted it a couple of times, but I think what mattered the most was that there was no context, there was no logic, but there was consistency and insistence. So we tweeted it two or three times, and then the film started and we thought right, let’s see if this pays off. Because it could have been disappointing and we could have not wanted to be part of, you know, any kind of hype.

SMILE PRESIDENT @karenyhan #BongHive pic.twitter.com/Dk7T8bFYtv

— Ella Kemp (@ella_kemp)

May 21, 2019

But, Parasite was Parasite. So we walked out of it and thought, ‘Oh yes, the #BongHive is alive and kicking.’

I think what was interesting was that it came at that point in the festival when enthusiasm dipped. Everyone was very tired, and we were really tired, which is why we were tweeting illogical things. It was late at night by the time we came out of that film. It was close to midnight and we should have gone to bed, probably.

Because, first world problems, it is exhausting watching five, six, seven films a day at a film festival, trying to find sustenance that’s not popcorn, and form logical thoughts around these works of art. Yes! It was nice to have fun with something. But what happened next was [Parasite distributor] Neon clocked it and went, ‘Oh wait, there’s something we can do there’. And then they took it, and it flew into the world, and now the #BongHive is worldwide.

I love the formality of Korean language and the way that South Koreans speak of their elders with such respect. I enjoyed being on the red carpet at TIFF hearing the Korean media refer to Bong Joon-ho as ‘Director Bong’. It’s what he deserves!

I like to imagine a world where it’s ‘Director Gerwig’, ‘Director Campion’, ‘Director Sciamma’… Exactly.

Related content:

Ella Kemp’s review of Parasite for Culture Whisper.

Letterboxd list: The directors Bong Joon-ho would like you to watch next.

Our interview with Director Bong, in which he reveals just how many times he’s watched Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho.

“I’m very awkward.” Bong Joon-ho’s first words following the standing ovation at Cannes for Parasite’s world premiere.

Karen Han interviews Director Bong for Polygon, with a particular interest in how he translated the film for non-Korean audiences. (Here’s Han’s original Parasite review out of Cannes; and here’s what happened when a translator asked her “Are you bong hive?” in front of the director.)

Haven’t seen Parasite yet? Here are the films recommended by Bong Joon-ho for you to watch in preparation.

With thanks to Matt Singer for the headline.

[beatriceeagle]

no pressure if you're busy but i was wondering - is titans good? or is it more a show where you're like it's not /good/ but i like it? i thought it looked interesting but then everyone was so negative about it i kind of got put off. And then your (really excellent btw) video resparked why i thought it'd be interesting to watch in the first place. thanks!

I haven’t paid a ton of attention to what fans have said about Titans, although I’m aware that there’s a general negative vibe around it. I suspect that whether Titans is worth watching for you depends a whole lot on what you want out of Titans.

I went into the show having never read a DC comic in my life. I was coming off of a week-long Wikipedia binge on Batman and his associated characters—the Robins, the Batgirls, some dude named Signal—and was talking to @thirdblindmouse about how it had become overwhelmingly clear to me that we’ve been doing Batman all wrong for decades, and the way to tell the story is as an ensemble family drama about intergenerational trauma. And she was like, “Uh, have you seen Titans?” So all of my pre-existing understanding of the characters comes from Google and selected comics scans.

I suspect that the show’s interpretation of Dick Grayson, in particular, is... skewed? I’m almost certain, based on scans of comics I’ve seen/the half a season of Teen Titans I watched a lifetime ago, that its interpretation of Starfire is highly nontraditional. There are certain storylines that I know they’re adapting, but like, they are playing very loose with the adaptation of even some of the characters’ basic personalities. (I’m pretty sure—again, not really a DC comics fan!)

So if you’re very committed to a generally cheerful Dick Grayson, Titans will not give you that. If you have a vision of Batman as a generally decent man, Titans will really not give you that. In general, I think that the show would be better if it erred more towards a lighter tone for Dick—there are moments where he has shades of Quentin in season three of The Magicians, when Q was kind of endearingly hapless, and the show is better for it. But I think it earns its ambivalent stance on Batman, and uses it well. Batman in Titans looks and acts like your dad whose office you’re not allowed into. And Titans!Starfire is really amazing. Like, Anna-Diop-is-a-revelation, fuck-now-you’ve-got-me-shipping-against-my-will amazing.

The bigger issue that Titans has—and this is not unrelated to Dick’s characterization, I guess—is its relationship with violence. Titans is a really violent show, especially in its first season, and it’s off-putting. Pretty much every superhero show involves the heroes beating up bad guys; not every superhero show involves the protagonist mutilating someone in the course of a fight.

This is not unthinking hyperviolence. Titans (which is actually annoyingly pretty good about tracking character through action sequences) is trying to make a point: The compounding traumas of Dick’s childhood resulted in an explosion of rage. Batman funneled his anger into Dick; Dick funnels his anger into whatever bad guy he’s fighting. The show isn’t subtle about this idea. Dick says it out loud several times. Nor (after the first fight) does the show endorse Dick’s over-the-top violence. Everyone from Donna Troy to Dick himself remarks on it with, at minimum, concern. And over time, Dick’s fighting style changes; he consciously leaves the hyperviolence behind, until his final fight of season two is primarily evasive.

But Dick is not the only Titans character who is working out his rage on the criminals he apprehends, and the show is considerably less coherent in its tonal approach to other characters’ violence. Hank and Dawn—the masked hero team Hawk and Dove—have an origin story that plays out like the the backstory of a serial killer couple, their interlocking trauma and rage and grief finding expression and acceptance in each other. The show is aware of the dynamic, but it’s not clear that it’s aware of how disturbing it is. Hank and Dawn are, primarily, people who need to cause violence in order to be at peace in their own heads—and only secondarily, people who want to protect others from danger. Season two does do some work exploring this idea, but the exploration is confused by the fact that, in the end, the show wants both of them on the cast.

Which is kind of the problem with any superhero show that sets out to explore the ethics of superheroism—at the end of the day, the characters aren’t gonna retire to Wisconsin, you know? So Titans presents hyperviolence, presents it as problematic (sometimes), presents it as almost an inevitable consequence of traumatized teenagers deciding to pursue vigilante justice... and then builds a superhero team of traumatized teenagers and young adults. As is its basic conceit.

And on a more fundamental level, the hyperviolence just sort of makes the show feel very grim. It’s already an aesthetically dark show, a lot of the time, and then you’ve got people getting mutilated, and Batman’s an asshole and Dick Grayson’s got anger management issues, and it feels like the show’s grimdark. 

I don’t think it is, though. First of all, despite everything, Titans actually has a sense of humor, both in general and occasionally about itself—I mean, it’s not Legends of Tomorrow, but it understands how to crack a smile every now and then. (They have a superdog. He shoots lasers out of his eyes!) But more importantly, at the end of the day, Titans is hopeful. Yeah, it’s a show about anger and violence and intergenerational trauma—but it’s more specifically about moving beyond those things. At its heart, it’s about being a better parent to your children than your parents were to you.

That central relationship between Dick and Rachel—Dick trying, and sometimes failing, but always caring and trying to be better for Rachel, and Rachel’s absolute fury with him when he fails, but her unshakeable devotion to him for being there, the unbelievable amount of sway he holds in her world—that’s what makes the show work for me. There are other vital relationships, too—Rachel and Kory, especially, but also all of the pseudo-familial relationships built up between all of the characters—but it all comes back to Dick and Rachel.

I mean, it’s a found family show. So much so that in season two, there are like, three separate speeches about how this is a family, not one of those stupid biological families, but a family we found, and isn’t that the important kind? And how grimdark can a found family show really be?

The other thing that might throw some people off—but which is actually one of my favorite things about the show—is the structure. If you take a look at the Titans episode list, you’ll see that roughly 75 percent of the episodes are named after a character or characters. Season one of Titans is basically about Dick, Starfire, Gar, and Rachel (Raven from the comics) traveling the midwest, picking up the people who will eventually form the main Titans team. When they encounter those people, they get a spotlight episode. So in episode two, “Hawk and Dove,” when Dick and Rachel lay low at Hank and Dawn’s, the episode starts out with an extended cold open, entirely disconnected from the main characters, just introducing us to Hank and Dawn as characters. Episode eight, “Donna Troy,” sees Dick go to visit his old friend Donna in Milwaukee, and... basically just hang out with her for half the episode, while the rest of the cast does plot stuff. Occasionally, these spotlight episodes stop the plot completely: Towards the end of season one, an episode ends on a cliffhanger. the next episode, rather than showing the outcome of the cliffhanger, is “Hank and Dawn,” an episode that flashes back to show the story of how Hank and Dawn met and became masked heroes. (There’s an in-episode device that eventually makes it clear why this story is related to the cliffhanger.) Season two uses the cliffhanger-into-a-flashback-spotlight-episode structure two more times, once with a character we’ve never met before.

I can see this being deeply frustrating to a viewer watching week-by-week (and I would not recommend watching Titans in that manner). And it’s certainly an unconventional way to structure a season of television. But honestly? I think it’s half of what I like about the show. The spotlight and flashback episodes are good—often some of the best the show’s produced. They don’t stop the plot for no reason; in season two, in particular, they provide context and backstory and characterization in a way that would be almost impossible to do, or to do so well, without the space of a full episode. They make the show more episodic than it would otherwise be—always a joy, in a television landscape full of 10-hour movies—and give it space to experiment with tone and genre. They make the characters richer, and the relationships more complex.

Does it slow down the plot? Absolutely. But Titans is not overflowing with complex plot, and I don’t really think it should try to. The plot of Titans hangs together juuuuuuuust enough to make the themes and characters and relationships work. It’s coherent—we’re not talking Teen Wolf, here—but it’s not brilliant, and honestly, that’s fine by me. But I suppose if you want your plot to be really good, this may not be the show for you.

Finally, I’ll say that Titans, though not what I would call a feminist show (it has a primarily male writing staff and I think it shows) does have a kind of surprisingly large female cast? I wanna say it’s five men, five women, by the end of season two? (Yeah, it’s a fucking enormous cast.) And the women have actual relationships with each other, ones that the show puts some effort into maintaining and remembering. I realize this is damning with faint praise, but honestly I’d just expected a show like Titans to not do that, and was prepared to ignore it, and was kind of pleasantly surprised when I didn’t have to.

In summary: I told my sister that Titans is 10% men in spandex standing on cars, 30% team as family, 30% intergenerational trauma, 20% an uncomfortable relationship with is own hyperviolence, and 10% Krypto the Superdog. I think that tracks. That show, despite having Anna Diop’s glowing presence, has a lot of flaws, but it also really worked for me on some soul-deep level. I am exactly on its wavelength.

I do not think that Titans is a fantastic television show, but I also don’t think it’s a very bad one. I think it’s generally competent show that is very interesting in some aspects, is weak in some areas, falls prey to some inherent trappings of its genre, is thoughtful about familial trauma, is not thoughtful enough about violence and criminal justice, has a lot of very compelling performances, is really poorly lit a lot of the time, pays a lot of attention to its visual language, kind of thinks Batman’s an asshole, and has Krypto the Superdog. It really worked for me; I can see why others might not be into it; it might work for you!

[ill-skillsgard]

Against the Rules - Henry Deaver x Mistress

Warning: 18+ overall. Mentions of sex/cheating/spousal conflict/mature themes. Please read at your own discretion.

Note: Thank you all for the asks and for following me on this ridiculous journey. Hope you enjoy this part. Let me know your thoughts. Any and allreblogs/comments are very much appreciated!

Read more Henry x Mistress here >   Masterpost

Everything was changing so fast. One day you were pouring coffee, wiping down tables and getting stiffed on tips in a hotel cafe and the next you were taking the elevator to the top floor standing next to Henry who looked great in his new suit.

It took some restraint not to tell him how good he looked in the slim-fitting ensemble. You had approved the look during a shopping trip he had taken you on a few days prior. It stood out in his wardrobe but wasn't flashy enough to attract too much attention. There was just something different about him. A bubbliness, a lilt, a brightness that erased the exhaustion from under his bi-coloured eyes. His employees and colleagues complimented him, unsure of what it was about him that seemed different. All they knew was that Henry Deaver looked great.

You knew what was different. Henry was happy.

His office was in the Easternmost corner of the top floor of a building that dwarfed many other prestigious surrounding businesses. Half the office was floor-to-ceiling windows and the rest of it was painted starch white. He had a comfortable desk and chair, all recent modern design, functionality and no compromise on style. The artwork on the walls were soulful glimpses of foreign lands festooned with lights, cobblestone, rolling hills and squat brown, red, yellow and orange structures.

"Wow," your voice echoed in the office.

"You can see why I try to spend as little time here as possible," he gestured around the wide room.

"I don't see why... This is a beautiful office."

"Really? Feels like a prison to me."

"A five-star prison," you laughed.

Henry shrugged his shoulders, shelving his large hands on his hips with a soliciting smile. "It's basically you and I in here occasionally. You met the receptionist out front but the desk just outside is yours whenever we're here. Nobody walks through these doors unless authorized."

"Unless they have an appointment," you recalled.

"That's right," he nodded. "See? Told you this was going to be easy."

"Except when somebody asks me a question about what to do or where to go."

"It's not your job to know. Your job is simply to take my calls if I'm busy, pencil in meetings, schedule my flights, book hotels and reservations. You know... Anything that has to do with me while I'm occupied. You are an extension of me. And don't look so worried, you'll get to know my clients quickly. My phone isn't ringing off the hook like some of the other guys in here."

"That's good to know," you completed your walk around his office and stopped a few feet from him.

His eyes climbed down your body and then back up. The pleasant smile softened, taking on a tinge of lust. "God, you look so good in that skirt."

"Mr. Deaver... I won't be needing to file a harassment claim so soon, will I?"

Henry snapped his fingers, remembering an important piece of information that trumped any kind of romantic exchange that may have continued. "That reminds me... You'll have to go talk to Helen in HR to go over some things. Sign some papers. Probably a whole lot of other Human Resource-related things. So, why don't we do that before heading to lunch?"

"Sure," you smiled.

Henry walked you through the office and brought you to a contrite little woman with a tight bun and grandmotherly features. Helen took you aside and had you sign a few documents, read a few pages and then handed you a page about workplace relationships and harassment.

"Now, we don't scrutinize what you do in your personal life, but it is against company policy for any employee to engage in romantic relationships with any performance-appraising figure. Now, since the only person you answer to is Mr. Deaver, that narrows it down a bit," the woman chuckled.

Your skin flared as a nervous breath left you in the form of a strained laugh. "Yes, of course."

"He's married, anyway. I don't think we have much to worry about. Nevertheless, you must sign to state you understand and accept the policy. You'll also have to complete a one-hour workplace harassment course. It's nothing really. Just an old, out-dated video with a multiple-choice test that you can't fail."

"Right," you nodded cooperatively.

Helen had you sit down and watch the workplace harassment video right then and there while she input all your information into a computer. The video was on a DVD and you couldn't remember the last time you had heard the crack of a plastic movie case being opened. The media format was youthful compared to the age of the video and you snickered at some of the campiness of a low-budget sexual harassment training video. Some parts made you cringe, and others made you sweat.

"If you ever feel assailed by your boss, you can speak up! If your employer withholds raises and promotions from you because of your refusal to accept romantic advances, you CAN speak up! If a co-worker makes inappropriate comments about your race, gender, sexual orientation or religion, you CAN speak up! There are laws in place to protect employees from unwanted advances. Remember... You CAN speak up! Your Human Resources officer will assist you and provide you with the proper steps..."

You lost yourself in daydreams and hardly paid attention to the video after a while. Henry had been strolling by the HR office every few minutes to flash you a look. It was cute to see how eager he was to get the ball rolling. The formalities were more painful to him than they were to you. When you were finally released from Helen's charge, Henry met you outside of the office and sighed.

"Jesus, what did you do in there? Watch all of her home movies?"

You laughed at the hint of a pout that tugged at his bottom lip, making the dimple on his chin appear and fade. "I had to watch a video on harassment in the workplace and I have to tell you... I learned some very interesting information watching all those poor, shoulder-pad-wearing employees being assailed by their bosses."

Henry clamped down on the inside of his cheek for a moment, shoulders rising with a silent laugh. "Right. Assailed."

You followed Henry back to his office where a laptop had appeared on his desk. He sat down in the desk chair and motioned for you to approach. You looked down at the screen he had up and didn't recognize even a square inch of what you saw.

"I have a bit of a database on my clients that you can use. It might be useful for when you get those phone calls. They won't assume that you don't know them, so you can use this to get a better idea of who they are, where they come from and our roles. Might make you sound better on the phone... not that you don't sound good on the phone."

You bit back a smirk, but it showed anyway. "Sure thing, Mr. Deaver."

He used his long legs to push himself out from under the desk. "Since it's getting kind of late, I figured we could order lunch in and just sit around. You know... Go over some stuff. I'll have to brief you on the current project. We'll be heading to Prague next week, so I'll have to get you the company card and all of that."

The day matured, the sun started to go down and five o'clock had come and gone along with nearly every person on the floor. Nobody came by to bother Henry, so you had several uninterrupted hours of learning. And he maintained his professionalism even during the times you tested him. When it came down to work, he was a tough man to distract. It was only the first day but you couldn’t resist trying to irk him a little bit.

Henry got up, shrugged out of his suit jacket and took a few stretching steps around the office. The skyline was starting to melt into purple that would then turn navy blue as a bruise, swivelled toward the door and went to peer out.

"Guess everyone's gone for the day," he said under the distinct locking of the door.

"I suppose so. We stayed late."

"It's necessary. We need to get you up to speed as soon as possible. We fly next week. How are you feeling about everything? Is there anything that still confuses you?"

You thought about all he had taught you in those hours and shrugged. "If I think of a question, I'll ask you, sir."

Henry flashed a sage smile that soon faded as he looked out over the darkening city line. "You hungry?"

"Only for your cock."

"Babe... Come on. It's our first day."

"Not my first day wanting every inch of that--"

"I'm serious!" He turned from the windows and approached the desk.

His lack of playfulness was disconcerting, but you respectfully shut your mouth and waited for him to circle the desk. Henry pushed the chair you were in to make some space between you and the desk. Sidestepping, he came up close, peering down with that same humourless expression.

"Get up," he muttered.

"Why?"

"You're questioning me already? Get. Up." He hammered out the last two words.

"Okay," you murmured, rising from the chair.

"Bend over the desk," he then whispered.

When you were resting your weight on the flat surface, Henry took a step behind you. No contact was made, and you turned your head to see what the reflections in the windows told of. He let his palm slide flat against the back of your skirt before it pulled back in a flash and clapped you.

Henry had never done that to you before. Jaw distended and eyes wide, you looked back at him and couldn't tell if you should make light of it or entertain the perversity by playing along.

"When you're in my office," he began. "You follow my rules. Out there you get to be whomever you want. Mistress, sex kitten, the innocent-looking girl from the cafe... But in here... You're fucking mine. And you listen to me. And you never ever question my authority. Do you understand?"

Had Henry been capable of this the whole time or had he picked up this trick from hanging around with you too much? Either way, it sent excitement trilling all over your body, manifesting between your legs as pure arousal. Hearing his voice darken and those domineering words sliding down the back of your neck as his hand squeezed your ass made you shiver.

"I said... Do you understand?" His groin pressed into you from behind.

"Yes, sir."

"That's right." He undid his belt and sat down in the desk chair that you had previously occupied. "Oh, I love having my own naughty little office slut."

A trickle of his usual pleasant tone returned, and you smiled at him. The jangling of his belt falling away caught your attention and you watched him pull his cock out of the pants you had been admiring all day.

"Come sit on your boss' cock."

"Sir... Isn't that against the rules?"

"Do I look like I give a shit? Go ahead and run to HR and tell them about how your pussy got so wet from the thought of fucking your boss that you simply couldn't help but..." He reached out to hike up your skirt and wrench down your panties. "Slide your panties off and have a seat on his lap."

You indulged him. Of course. Because indulging him meant indulging yourself and the thought of Henry fucking you in the middle of his office, after hours, in front of a mammoth pane of glass while the city twinkled below was not a fulfillment you could take off the shelf any another day but today. It had to happen right then and there. So much of your time had been spent fantasizing about how delectable it would be to fuck Henry in his office. But this was even better. Henry was playing conductor this time.

"Come on, don't worry," his words rang sweetly. "Door's locked. Everyone's gone home. You and I can have a little more private time, right? I could have fucked you twenty times already today and nobody would have known."

"Why didn't you?"

"Oh," Henry chortled, not so easily derailed by your challenge. "Trust me, sweetheart... Daddy was thinking about it."

Your mouth opened but a quip could not follow how he had addressed himself. Shit, Henry had it in him. It was you who normally initiated the depravity. You wanted to be proud of him, but you could do that later.

Cashing in on that fulfillment, you relaxed against him like he was but part of the chair. He hissed when he spotted the right angle and slid every inch of himself into you dreadfully slow. He breathed next to your ear and hummed with delight when you sat flush against him, thighs spread out over his. The cold metal of his belt poked you too, but you didn't care. It was filthy and evocative of the spit in the face of professionalism that Henry seemed to hold so high.

Dark reflections in the window became an extradimensional porno playing on a crystal projector screen in the foreground of the city you had grown up in. Henry wasn't the quiet, apprehensive man-in-black that you met at your old job. And you weren't the girl with a simplified life of frugality and the less-than-average sex life. You had joined together at the right moment to cause this.

"Oh my god, Mr. Deaver... That’s so much. You’re so big," you whimpered.

The depth of the chair didn't allow for much leverage, even if he scooted himself and you down to prop himself on planted feet. You rose up suddenly, afraid you might fall forward until he encircled you, holding you to him so he could then splay you out over the desk. From his new standing position behind you, he used both hands to yank you down to meet his pelvis. Your skirt inched up your waist as the slapping of skin kept time with your pulse.

Four long fingers stroked your throat, squeezing gently to guide you up. He needed to tell you something, but he couldn't bear to stop the assault on your pussy from behind. You were glistening wet and the sounds of him slipping in and out of you made his balls tighten.

"Who's the boss of you?"

"You are sir," you choked beneath the grip on your neck.

"Yes, little lady. That's correct. You answer to me. You do as I say."

"Yes," he shook a gasp out of you.

Henry nipped the side of your neck and you jolted from the sting. "My nasty little assistant. What would I do without you? What would I do without that tight, tight pussy to shoot my fucking cum inside?"

"I don't know, I don't know!"

"Well, now I don't ever have to go without. I can have you any time I want. Oh, yes... You're mine all mine."

"I'm yours, daddy."

[plainlylaney]

laney was pretty sure the last time she’d had a moment of peace was the night before, nestled in jackson’s bed. ever since she’d slipped back to her house half an hour before sunrise, she’d been subjected to party preparations and instructions to keep the dog from getting underfoot and to stay away from the doors, as they were constantly opening and closing as caterers and assistants and friends came in and out with decorations and food and liquor. and once everything was neatly draped and hung and centered, laney and her mom and liam’s girlfriend--well, fiancee--were spray-tanned and manicured and expertly-styled and made up and could easily pass for vintage hollywood actresses by the time they parted to dress. laney intentionally took her time, discouraged by the chatter of early arrivals, sabrina’s family gushing over her marilyn monroe-esque red dress and employees from the distillery coaxing pre-party drinks out of her parents. she meandered behind her closed bedroom door in her underwear as long as she could stand, peering just slightly around the curtains of her window to see if she could glimpse jackson getting ready too, but afraid of actually seeing him looking back and knowing he made her more nervous than she’d ever let on. 

she finally dressed as the party-goers’ conversation was drowned out by the tinklings of the pianist on their baby grand, and spent a few extra moments admiring the smoothness of the satin before she added some vintage drop earrings and a diamond bracelet she’d gotten when she turned eighteen and then barely ever worn again, on account of never going anywhere that such a bracelet wouldn’t be endangered. her hair was in victory waves, her brows made sharper, cheeks artificially-peach, and lips lined just so to accentuate the cupid’s bow of her lips. compared to sabrina’s approachable attention-grabbing get-up and her mother’s classic look, laney would appear exactly as dark and severe as she’d need. which was good, because she’d exited her bedroom in the same moment a swarm of liam’s friends entered from the balcony, all the same tanned too-rich-to-care-about-college types, hair slicked back to go with the theme and cheering too loudly for an upscale engagement party. most of which she’d at least kissed if not at most entertained a months-long fling with. she was absorbed into side conversations here and there, her parents’ employees thinking that being nice to her was gonna get them further ahead and extended family who knew she had a disease and look at her too pitifully for her liking. her brother, already formidably intoxicated, pulled her all the way downstairs to his bedroom because the bowtie she’d bought him was apparently too bright to match sabrina’s dress and “girls understand colors better”. after she’d located a darker red bowtie in his closet and tied it for him, he passed her his mint julep as thanks, which she downed and handed back.  

as soon as she had a moment to herself, she went searching for ziggy. her parents thought it most polite to keep the dog locked away during any social events and laney thought it was cruel, especially since all he ever wanted was just to make friends, and had a habit of releasing him mid-party when her parents wouldn’t care enough to put him back. thankfully he was not locked away in the laundry room, but allowed to stay on the balcony right outside the party, alternating between sniffing each new guest with interest and curling up on a chaise to chew on his new pork-chop bone courtesy of the catering. a nice attempt to meet laney’s pleas halfway, laney begrudgingly thought. she scratched behind his ears delicately and tied her brother’s discarded bowtie around his neck so he’d fit in with the guests until his attention was caught by a newcomer. laney stood to see it was jackson, starkly handsome and matching her emerald dress and looking way more like a movie star than any aspiring writer from oregon had a right to. her probing gaze was shortly interrupted by some of her mother’s artist friends entering behind jackson and she stepped aside to say, “don’t worry, you’re not late. everyone gets here early to get the really expensive booze before it runs out.” 

voices sounded from the side of the house, girls her age heel-clicking around the house to the balcony, sabrina’s friends. once they’d spotted laney and jackson huddled on the moonlit balcony in their matching ensembles in a rather romantic-looking tableaux, they slowed and quieted, tittering and shushing each other in a way that made laney think that what they were saying would not make her happy to hear. “let’s go,” she said with a slight roll of her eyes, taking his arm in a very theme-appropriate way and tugging him into the party. her parents, looking for her, cornered them and did lots of hand-shaking and complimenting and thanking that was only so formal because they were surrounded by people listening in and liam gave jackson a typical drive-by clap on the back and thanked him for showing up, as if jackson was there for him and not laney. determined to have a few moments with him unbothered before people started dancing and making toasts and getting misty-eyed, laney lead them between a long buffet table with carefully-labeled food and the pianist and sighed heavily. “you look nice, by the way.” it sounded lackluster after the exaggerated praise he’d just been given, but to say much more would make her self-conscious. even though she technically wasn’t supposed to, she plucked two highballs from a passing caterwaiter for them and relaxed gradually as she handed his over, her fingers not shy about brushing his. “i like parties, but these types of things stress me out. it’s too structured. i’m pretty sure sabrina’s mom was in the guest bathroom earlier practicing her toast, crying on cue and everything.”

[shawnsorangeglasses]

The Opposition - Part 3.1

3.1k words

Shawn is a tightly wound, Type A law student in college. For the most part, he has his life figured out and planned to the minute. Then comes Caroline, a charming Type B and his unlikely equal.

thank you all for being so patient. ...

It's Wednesday. Shawn fears the closer he gets to Friday, the less motivated he is to crash the frat party. This morning, Caroline sent him a text riddled with lowercase letters and several typos to discuss the plan. He's meeting her in front of the library a few hours after his first class. On Mondays and Wednesdays, it's ethics and his third criminal law course in the afternoon. Tuesdays and Thursdays is legal writing and criminal behavior. He loves the work, but it’s nice to do something else, even if it is scheming.

He walks by a group of senior women on the way. They smile and wave flirtatiously, but he keeps his eyes low and walks faster. They laugh.

Caroline is waiting for Shawn on the back of the library's lion statue, conducting her hands to music only she can hear through her earbuds. Of course that's where she is, Shawn thinks to himself. Her sweater, the one from last night, is tied around her waist. She doesn't notice him at first because the song is up at full volume. Bright yellow socks are the only vibrant color she's chosen to wear today in an otherwise plain ensemble.

"You're not supposed to sit on those," he tells her.

Her head snaps around, "Oh, it's just you. Where's Harry?"

"Theater club until 6 PM."

Caroline grunts and groans, rolling rather ungracefully off the metal beast. "How the hell am I supposed to sit through this without him?"

"I'm sure you'll manage." Shawn leads towards the double doors, but a tiny hand latches onto his elbow, stopping him short.

"Can't you just tell me right here in the sun? It's freezing inside."

Shawn taps his heel on the pavement impatiently. "I suppose we can go to the old greenhouse out back."

Caroline cocks an eyebrow. "Oh, he's taking me out back. How scandalous."

"Relax, it's not in use anymore and half the windows are smashed. It's the furthest thing from romantic.

"She circles him, "Uh huh, sure it is."

"It is."

Shawn takes her down a path that’s gone undisturbed for a long time. The greenhouse is obscured by a wall of untamed trees and shrubbery. The only entrance is a gate overrun by vines and ivies. Shawn unlatches the lock and its rusty chain falls limp with a clang.

"After you," he says, permitting Caroline to enter first.

"Are we allowed back here, Mr. Rulebook?"

"This is the only rule you'll ever find me breaking."

Caroline gazes up at the quaint structure in all its decay and ruin. Branches extend in and out of broken windows. She can just make out a misty rainbow in the fog at the very top of the roof. Ironically, it’s probably the prettiest part of the campus she’s seen so far.

"How'd you find this place?"

"Ms. Attie brought me here my first semester. It used to be kind of panic room for me, but I haven't needed it lately."

She takes two steps forward. "Is it safe?"

"There's broken glass and exposed wires everywhere, but you're smart enough. I think you'll live."

“Aw, you think I’m smart?”

He has to smile at his slip up. “I think you’re adept. Don’t get a big head.”

Shawn pats her shoulder and moves ahead. Caroline jogs after him, trying to keep up with his long strides in the tall grass.Inside are only vague reminders of what the greenhouse may have looked like before the wilderness reclaimed it. All kinds of weeds have pushed through the ground floor. Unchecked foliage has made the once spacious house small and humid inside. Caroline picks up one of the few plants that are still in a solid pot, then sets it back in its dust ring.Shawn stops at the iron staircase leading to a platform above.

"This way. Attie said the steps are too corroded to be safe, so we have to use the ladder."

The ladder leans against the second floor ledge with cinder blocks at its feet to keep it in place. It goes straight up into a sunnier ledge, closest to the ceiling. It's the only part of the greenhouse with all the windows still intact. Caroline again goes ahead of him, but loses her footing on a loose rung. Shawn's quick to catch her, grabbing onto her hip. He doesn't let go until she's regained her balance, and even so his fingertips linger on her midriff.

"Any other surprises," she huffs.

"I don't know, maybe? It's been a while."

She smirks down at him, then continues to climb. Each step, she tests the rungs with a few taps before proceeding. Shawn is trying to keep from looking, but she's right there above his head, in shorts. He concentrates on his own steps.

Caroline's feet patter around the platform. "Hmm, I don't know Mendes. This looks pretty romantic to me."He's about to protest again until he makes the top of the ladder. A picnic is set up on one of the metal tables, but clearly abandoned. Shawn sighs.

"Harry must have been here recently with some guy or girl, most likely showing off." He can feel Caroline's eyes on him. "Which is not why we're here, for the last time."

"Alright. Did he leave any non-perishables?"

Shawn sifts through the picnic basket's contents. Every single bag is torn to shreds. "No, looks like the raccoons came through— oh wait, there's a jar of raw honey."

"I call dibs."

"You can have it," Shawn chuckles. "Harrison keeps our kitchen stocked with the stuff."

She takes the jar, holding it up to the sun. "Why did we come here, again?"

"Going over the plan."

"Oh yeah."

Caroline hops up onto a shelf in between two flower bushes, securing her jar of honey at the bottom of her bag. Sun spills shafts of light on her hair, making them a rich brown around the edges.

"The party's on Friday and I know I'm your plus one. We definitely shouldn't stay too long though. What's our out going to be?"

"I could get 'sick' or 'too drunk' and you have to take me home."

"That could work. I say we try to avoid attention altogether though. Kate knows I don't do parties and I won't know how to explain myself."

Caroline pokes a fern and its leaves retract. "Just say you're doing research on college party scenes and how they affect academic accomplishment or something."

"That's...actually a good idea."

She flips her hair and shrugs. "I know."

"Okay, don't get cocky." Shawn nibbles on his thumb. "I guess we're ready?"Caroline tilts her head at him. "You don't sound ready."

"I am very nervous, yes."

"Well don't worry. Just think of it as extreme eavesdropping."

"There's still so many margins of error," he mutters to himself. "Argh, this is why I hate parties. I have no way of actually preparing for this. What if something stupid happens? What if the cops show up? Cops always show up in the movies. Listen to me, comparing real life to the movies-”

"Hey," she slides down from the shelf and puts two hands on his shoulders. Her inky brown eyes penetrate his own. "Don’t spiral. That's why I'm coming with you. We can always improvise. It's gonna be fine. In the name of love, right?"

Shawn takes a deep, shaky breath. She'd been saying this to him since Monday. In the name of love. But Shawn isn't even positive he loves Kate, whatever that means. She just makes him tingly all over. All girls make him a little nervous once they show an interest in him. It isn't even all about love at this point. He just wants everything to go back to normal.

"Right," he says anyway. "In the name of love."

"Okay then," she gives him shake and lets go. "How much time do you have?"

Shawn checks his watch. "About two hours."

"Wanna go eat?" …

The dining hall is flowing with students coming and going. All the major groups have found their respective tables for the hour. Caroline seems to know at least a few people in every clan they pass by on the way to the kitchen, and every person is happy to see her or has some inside joke to share.

"Uh Caroline," Shawn taps her shoulder, "What exactly is your major?"

"I don’t know yet. I really like everything. Why?""

You just seem to know...well, everyone."

"Oh, I had psychology last year. Between surveys and case studies, you kind of meet people. And I made mine so they could be interesting and fun, so they’d come back."

Shawn gazes at a few of the people they passed. Music majors, science majors, even the business majors knew Caroline. A few are looking in his direction. Most people know Shawn from the mock trials because they get published in the school newspaper. His serious reputation has preceded him for quite some time. So naturally, they'd be curious as to why he's suddenly at breakfast with Caroline.

"Everybody's staring," he tells her in a hushed voice.

"Well yeah, it's me standing next to you," she said much louder, already having read the room.

Shawn has noticed the physical contrast of him Caroline before. His lean and broad figure just barely towering over her stocky, compact build is something to behold. They couldn't be more different.

"They might also be staring because of your face," she says as she makes a beeline for the pasta trays.

"What's wrong with my face?"

"Literally nothing. That's why they're staring, genius."

Shawn squints at her. "You have very interesting way of paying me compliments."

She gives him a tender pat on the shoulder. "What are friends for?"

He has to admit to himself, she is entertaining without trying. The honesty that comes with Caroline's words is refreshing. The few girls he's come across in the past hardly ever say what they mean or feel. Kate was one of them.

"Let's sit over there," Caroline nods at a small corner table well lit by a wall of windows. Empty booths are scarce in the cafe. A few feet away from that spot is Jared Price with a handful of law majors. Shawn grabs Caroline’s arm and pulls her behind a wall next to the vending machines. Without meaning to, he’s pinned her into a corner.

“What the hell’s your problem,” she snaps. “I almost dropped my pasta.”

“Shush,” he hisses.

It’s only been a few times that a guy has had Caroline on the wall in this fashion. Shawn’s approach is, of course, in no way romantic and definitely clumsy to say the least. Though she knows it’s probably not intentional, she can’t help but feel the tiniest impulse to misbehave right now.

Shawn’s still tensed up and peering around the corner. She takes a peek. There’s plenty of people to look at and her heart was kind of hoping to see Kate floating in between some of the tables. No one seems to fit the description Shawn’s given her in recent conversations. In fact, his panicked eyes are completed transfixed on a table surrounded by what look like carbon copies of him.

“Must be a law thing to dress like the dean,” she says. “Don’t you want to talk to your kin?”

“Not necessarily,” Shawn says with a shake of his head.

"Well, do you mind," she says looking him up and down. "I'm kind of stuck between a vending machine and a... well, a hard place."

A harsh blush seeps into Shawn's face and neck as he realizes the position he's put them in. Caroline holds her takeout box of food close to her chest in one hand and pushing back on his abs with the other. A wry, all-knowing smile pushes her dimple deeper into her cheek. Shawn bolts backwards.

"S-Sorry, I wasn't trying to-,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, hoping his thoughts would gather up easier that way. “I'm not- I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry."

"No worries Mendes," Caroline pats his chest. "If I have to pinned against a wall by anyone, I'm fine with it being you."

Shawn shields his face with his hand, which is already starting to get clammy and prickly. "Why do you have to make everything so weird?"

"It’s only weird in your head, Shawn. Come on.” She nods in the direction of the other exit, away from the law school table and the rest of the cafe. “We can go eat on the lawn.”

She trots over to the double doors. Her thick messy curls bounce on her shoulders in a manner that's almost teasing. With one backwards shove, she pushes the door open, making room for Shawn to follow after her. He unbuttons his collar, then trudges through the uncomfortable air he’s made for himself. It amazes him how nothing else in the room changes after an encounter so awkward.

The outdoors presents a hot and dry midday heat. As nice as it would be to sit in the air conditioning and eat, Shawn would rather sweat than be stuck arguing about the ethics of this assigned case with Jared Fucking Price.

“Right over here,” Caroline says.

She’s pointing towards one of the few crepe myrtles on campus in the middle of a green lawn. The tree is still young, so it’s shade is small and requires them to sit close if they want to cool off. She’s already made herself at home on the petals scattered at its roots. In any other setting, this whole picture would seem staged, but Caroline looks like she belongs there more than anyone. Shawn takes this brief moment waiting for her to sit down to observe again. Another nuisance of a sensation settles in his gut. He dismisses it as a hunger pain.

He crouches down at her side stiffly. Even in such limited space, he maintains the usual respectful distance. The shaded parts of the grass are soft and cool beneath his palms. Shawn expected to just eat in silence since that’s usually what happens when he’s out with someone other than Harrison. Every time he’s met with Caroline in the past few days, she’s allowed the silence to happen. Now, she’s practically itching to talk.

“So,” she sighs, “are we gonna talk about what that was?”

“I already said I was sorry. Please drop it.”

“Not that,” she sighs. “You totally ghosted your friends the law majors’ table. Why?”

It almost slips out, how much he hates Jared and his elitist herd of followers. Caroline has this way of talking that makes you forget you have secrets. It’s for this reason that he bites his lower lip and chooses his next words carefully. The law department is already a tough enough crowd without them knowing he doesn’t enjoy their miserable company.

“I didn’t ghost anybody worth calling a friend.”

“Oh,” she says, light and flippant in her tone.

“Oh what?”

“It’s just a little cold,” her eyes skirt around his face. “Even for you.”

“You don’t know them, Caroline.”

She throws her hands up. “Hey, I get it. That law department is quite the dickhead factory.”

He shakes his head, well aware that she was throwing him into that lot. “Touchè,” he mutters.

“You always this distant with peers?”

“Do we have to talk about it?”

“No. We don’t have to talk about it,” she eventually says, and she almost sounds sad when she does. “But Shawn, we’ve had these meetings for a few days now. I get that you don’t talk much, but it’s kind of weird not knowing you at all by now.”

"Funny. I believe I've said more about myself in the last four hours than I've told anyone in the last year."

It’s one of those jokes that Shawn thinks is funny at first until no one laughs. It’s even worse in a conversation with only one other person.

“How generous of you,” she deadpans. For the first time since they’ve met, she sounds genuinely irritated with him.

He looks around the environment as if he’ll find something to talk about there. Nothing appears of course and Caroline is still quietly pulling weeds from the grass. Quiet was the intention, but not if it meant her shutting down. He leans back on his hands in the mulch and dirt to stretch his legs out into the sun.

“I wanted to be a musician, you know.”

Caroline’s ears perk up. “That’s...random.”

“Guitar and piano was as far as I got. Long time ago.”

“Were you any good?”

“I was told I was good. I always thought I could’ve been better.”

She snorts, “Yeah sounds about right.”

“Obviously, I changed my mind. Got into debate and ethics in high school.”

“Is that what changed?”

He nods. “So many times the system gets it wrong and sends innocent people to prison. It’s insane, I mean, the amount of laws we have overlapping and changing everyday would surprise you. No scenario is ever so thought out. Not to mention ethics aren’t always in black and white. I could talk for hours about the-”

Shawn grinds to a halt when he finally notices the smile slowly breaking his face. Caroline’s given him her full attention. Somehow, he’s leaned in closer to her, like he does every time he goes on a tangent.

I’m getting carried away,” he sighs.

“No, it’s wonderful,” Caroline cooed. “I’ve never seen you so happy.”

He cocks his head to one side. “Nobody likes a rambler.”

“Guess that makes me the biggest nobody of all.”

She shoulders his arm, rocking him slightly. Shawn’s ears start to burn. He looks down. Caroline’s sweater sleeve has ended up in the mulch somehow. He carefully picks it up, pulling the wood chips gently from the threads before setting neatly onto her thigh. She doesn’t say a word while this is all happening. In fact, she watches his movements intently. He’s going to ask and she wants to be ready.

“I have a question,” he says. “The other night, when you came back to my room for your sweater, why were you— well I thought you were, I don’t know. Maybe I was seeing things-”

“Bawling my eyes out?”

A faint grimace flashes across Shawn’s face.

“I’m not touchy about it,” she assures him. “Short answer is that it belonged to my mom. Then Dad gave it to me when I graduated high school.”

Shawn steals a look at her and she’s smiling softly. “Can I have the long answer?”

Caroline leans back. “It’s a real sob story,” she says loftily. “I’d hate for you start feeling sorry for me.”

“Please, ‘sorry’ is the last thing I’ll ever feel for you, Caroline,” Shawn quips

“Shawn,” says a familiar voice. “Shawn Mendes?”

Shawn looks up and to his disappointment finds Jared Price standing over them casting a condescending shadow at their feet. The other law majors aren’t far behind, coming closer to their spot under the tree. ...

taglist:

@tnhmblive @rulerofnocountry @matchamendes @damselindistressanu @gxccicoffee @yoelleex @5-seconds-of-mendes @darling-shawn @imaginesofdreams @nervousaroundmendes @hiyabich @sinplisticshawn @peterbrokenparker @sauveteen @allaboutthatdrummer @particularnarry @shawnwyr @1am9root

[cctinsleybaxter]

2019 in books

The year’s contenders for the good, the bad, and the rest. I used to make a list of the ten best books I read all year, a tradition encouraged by my mom as far back as high school, but out 2019′s twenty-six mediocre offerings it didn’t really come together. Instead I’ve decided to break my ‘honorable mentions’ category into three subsections that I hope you’ll enjoy. In order of when read, not in order of affection:

Honorable mentions [books I liked; 3+ star material]

The Fifth Season by N.K Jemisin was given to me as a Christmas present last year, and I wasn’t sure how much I would like it since I don’t really do high fantasy. Rules need not apply; I loved the world building and narrative structure, and the characters were so much better than I’m used to even when their arcs seemed familiar at first glance. I guessed what was going on with the formatting maybe a little too quickly, but even then it was emotionally engaging and I was eager to keep reading and see what happened next. Haven’t devoured a book that way in years.

The Periodic Table by Primo Levi has been on my list for a while; as a memoir told through short stories it’s hit-or-miss, but so worth it. I especially loved getting to read his early attempts at fiction, and the chapter Phosphorus regarding his first real job as a chemist in 1942 (his description of his absolute disgust at having to work with rabbits, the feel of their fur and the “natural handle” of the ears is a personal favorite.) This excerpt is one I just think about a lot because it’s full of small sweet details and so kindly written:

“[my father] known to all the pork butchers because he checked with his logarithmic ruler the multiplication for the prosciutto purchase. Not that he purchased this last item with a carefree heart; superstitious rather than religious, he felt ill at ease breaking the kasherut rules, but he liked prosciutto so much that, faced by the temptation of a shop window, he yielded every time, sighing, cursing under his breath, and watching me out of the corner of his eye, as if he feared my judgement or hoped for my complicity.”

Slowing Down from Mouthful of Birds by Samanta Schweblin is a one-page short story, but I’m including it because it’s the best in the book and one of the better stories I’ve read in general. I won’t spoil it for you since it’s more poem than anything else (and you can read the whole thing here.)

A Short Film About Disappointment by Joshua Mattson deserves to be lower in the order because it’s like. Bad. But I couldn’t help but have a self-indulgent kind of love for it, since it’s a book about white boy ennui told through movie reviews. It definitely gets old by the end (one of those things where you can tell the author lost steam just as much as his leading man), but parts of it are so well-written and the concept clever. 80+ imaginary movie reviews and psychosomatic possession by your traitorous best friend. 

The Gone-Away World by Nick Harkaway has one of the greatest twists I’ve ever read in a novel, and no that’s not a spoiler, and yes I will recommend it entirely on that basis. It does its job as a multi-year sci-fi epic; reminds me a lot of Walter Moer’s early stuff in that it’s a bit Much(tm) but still a good mixture of politics and absurdity and absolute characters. Tobemory Trent was my favorite of the ensemble cast (but also boy do I wish men would learn how to write women.)

My Only Wife by Jac Jemk is a novella with only two characters, both unnamed, a man describing fragmented memories of his wife. It has me interested in Jemck’s other writing because even though I didn’t love it she writes beautifully; reading her work is like watching someone paint. The whole thing has a very indie movie feel to it (no scene of someone peeing but there SHOULD be), which I don’t think I’ve experienced in a story like this before and would like to try again. 

Mentions [books I really wanted to like but my GOD did something go wrong]

Bad Blood: Secrets and Lies in a Silicon Valley Startup by John Carreyrou is the most comprehensive history we have of Elizabeth Holmes and her con-company Theranos. It’s incredibly well-researched and absolutely fascinating, but veers into unnecessary pro-military stuff in one chapter (’can you believe she tricked the government?’ yes i can, good for her, leave me alone) and carries an air of racism directed at Holmes’ partner and the Pakistani people he brings onto the company. Carreyrou works for WSJ so I don’t know what I expected.

Circe by Madeline Miller was fun to read and goes down like a glass of iced tea on a hot day, but leaves a bit of an unpleasant aftertaste. It says a lot of things that seem very resonant and beautiful but ultimately ring hollow, and the ending is too safe. Predictable and inevitable. 

I was also bothered about Circe’s relationships with Odysseus and Telemachus as a focal point, not because they’re father and son (Greek mythology ethics : non-committal hand gesture) but because it’s the traditional “I used to like bold men but now I like... sensitive men.” Which as a character arc feels not unrealistic but very boring. You close the book and realize you’re not nine and reading your beat-up copy of Greek Myths, you’re an adult reading a New York Times Bestseller by a middle aged straight white woman.

Reservoir 13 by Jon McGregor could have been the best thing I read all year and I’m miserable at how bad it ended up being. The concept is excellent; a thirteen-year-old girl goes missing in a rural English village, and every chapter chronicles a passing year. I knew it would be slow, I like slow, but nothing happens in this book and it ends up it feeling like Broadchurch without the detectives. Plus, McGregor, you know sometimes you can take a moral stance in your story and not just make everything a grey area? Especially with subplots that deal with things like pedophilia and institutional racism?

Paul Takes the Form of a Mortal Girl by Andrea Lawlor is about a twenty-something who moves from Iowa to San Francisco in the 90s and explores gender and sexuality through shapeshifting. It was something I really thought I would like and maybe even find helpful in my own life, but I couldn’t stand a single one of the characters or the narration so that’s on me! It does contain one of my favorite lines I’ve read in a long time though:

“And anyway, weren’t French boys supposed to be like Giovanni, waiting gaily for you in their rented room and actually Italian?”

Dishonorable mentions [there’s no saving these fellows]

The Butterfly Garden by Dot Hutchinson was supposed to be a fun easy-to-read thriller and what can I say except what the jklfkhlkj;fkfuck. It very quickly goes from ‘oh hey I read books like this when I was 15’ to ‘oh the girl who intentionally gets kidnapped by a wealthy serial killer is accidentally falling in love with his son and can’t stop talking about his eye color now huh.’ I felt like I was losing my mind; why did grown adults give this 5 stars on Goodreads.

The Beautiful Bureaucrat by Helen Phillips is supposedly surrealist horror fiction about working an office job in a new town, and reminded me of that rocky third or fourth year when I really started hating Welcome to Night Vale. All spark no substance, and even less fun because you know it’s going nowhere. I’ve also realized this past year that I cannot stand stories about women where their only personality trait is the desire to have children. People will throw the word ‘Kafkaesque’ at anything but here it was just insulting. 

The Great Believers by Rebecca Makkai alternates point of view between Yale, a gay man living in Chicago in the late 80s and watching his friends die, and Fiona, the straight younger sister of one of those friends now looking for her erstwhile daughter in 2018. It was nominated for the 2018 Pulitzer, and part of my interest was in wondering how we were going to connect the plot lines of ‘the personal cost of the AIDS crisis’ with ‘daughter lost to a cult.’

The answer is that we don’t. The book is well-researched and acclaimed beyond belief, but it is SUCH a straight story. Yale’s arc is fueled by the drama of his boyfriend cheating on him and infecting them both, Fiona is painted as a witness to tragedy and encouraged to share their stories with her own daughter. “You’re like the Mother Theresa of Boys Town” one of the men complains bitterly of her, and the claim goes undisputed. It’s a story that makes a lot of statements about love and families and art that I feel we’ve all heard before to much greater effect.

[marsixm]

edit sorry this post is both long (if the readmore fails i am truly truly sorry) & longwinded im just reflecting and thinking; (another edit: u can probably just read the tl dr and get it)

anyway allow me to spin some very personally based theory here for a mo while i put off/warm my fingers up from the cold in preparation to email my therapist

so growing up i had, i think only, het ships, but i never quite had the ones you were (narratively speaking) “supposed to” have

in most media i recall when i was a kid, there were like, 2 diff structures of character romance plot arcs in media i consumed, there was the main lead and 2 best friends model, where thered be the star of the show who had outside romantic leads and the 2 best friends (who were always a boy and a girl) would have their secondary romance, OR there were ensemble shows where there was a more clear romance set up between the main boy and main girl, then side characters whod pair off in whatever ways ended up happening. in the first, see: hannah montana, the second, see: zoey 101. obv this isnt a hard rule and there were loads of exceptions but like, lets just say i tended not to care for the romances set up for the main girls in the trio models, or quite as hard for the main boy and girl in the ensembles, and in general if there was an obvious romance between two leads i either didnt care or outright hated it

basically i never liked the ships they set up for us in straight media, as a kid (namely, a girl) i liked being that “ew pink!” “i hate valentines day” sort of contrarian, but what i remember actually disliking was the predictability of it, because i clearly still shipped characters, so it wasnt /really/ that i hated romance, per se

looking back on it i think it was probably or at least to a degree more like that i hated the hetero expectation of it- i can nit pick down to more specific examples of why i disliked the main pairings (kataang, for example, i thought was weird bc katara acted like a mother/older sister figure to aang, and i didnt feel like there was romance between them at all except where it felt shoehorned in) - maybe it was also that i thought it made more sense for a main character to be with someone they clearly already spent a lot of time with and not some random new hot boy in town (i very distinctly remember shipping miley and oliver on hannah montana, and i believe that was the first time i ever read fanfiction @ age like... 11 lol) as is often the case w like these things.

theres another level to this though, which is that i notice i tended to ship characters who were more vaguely similar to each other, like, physically (ie, similar heights, or hair colors mainly) obviously this is funny now since my main pairing is johnlock which is such a physically different ship we can construct them from basic shapes and colors and theyre still recognizable as who they are, but i have some thoughts about this- but i think there might be two interesting things about this again in retrospect

first of all, this sounds silly ik, but shipping the vaguely similar ones as a child’s way of queering heterosexuality is an interesting concept and not that difficult, like, two boys are also vaguely similar to each other in a similar way a boy and a girl with the same hair color and height might be, which is something i thought of a while ago

the other way in which this is really interesting to me now, that i think might have been more actually pertinent to myself as a trans child, is that i think i shipped the characters i did in an attempt to morph the concept of boy and girl? to find the boy counterpart to every girl??? that second one makes more sense actually. anyway, i digress

2 start off i definitely had gender feelings starting from a very young age so i think these observations ring more true than just reflections, PERHAPS

so the first thing i remember shipping, ie wanting them to be together, thinking about it an inordinate amount of time outside watching the films, even imagining them eating ice cream together in their pjs (i was NINE DHFJGghfkg) was jack sparrow & elizabeth swan from potc (basically my franchise of choice as a kid bc i never read harry potter) now this doesnt quite fit the “visually similar” thing bc actually orlando bloom looks more like kiera knightly and is prob due to them like making out in one movie, but i think this works for the “shipping as gender expression” theory, because elizabeth swan dressed up as a boy, spent most of that movie wearing boy’s clothes, etc- meanwhile jack was a wacky pirate which like hello duh i’d want to be. so i wonder if beyond the fact that they kissed and flirted, there was something to this concept of me wanting two characters to be together, meant i wanted to marry together two conceptual things happening with two characters, or absorb the cool dude and the boyish girl characters into each other to make one whole archetype for myself? i likewise shipped aang and toph (toph who, normally doesnt really have anyone to be shipped with, since she likes sokka but he has a gf) who we all know is the VERY boyish girl character, so boyish im p sure her actually being a trans dude later in life is a p decently accepted headcanon (i dont actually delve into aatla fandom though so i can only hope) 

another thing about this ship thing, is most of my ships had brown hair (like miley and oliver), just like i always have, and in certain cases the girl character would look a LOT like me (i also shipped logan and quinn on zoey 101, which to my surprise n delight actually came true later (although looking back im like... 11 yr old me is glad they made out a lot but adult me is like uhhh why were the kids on this show making out a lot? anyway thats another issue) and i def was a weirdo girl with glasses and long brown wavy hair) which sort of further fuels my feeling that this was an attempt by my brain to do 1 of 2 things, if my own involvement really was a greater motivating factor in this thing, 1. ship MYSELF with a boy (which is like def possible for my gay kinnie ass, but not quite my thesis here) or 2. morph these boy and girl counterparts by imagining them together, seeing them together, etc

for example, i realize now, when i was a kid i drew an avatar sona for myself and said sona looked an awful lot like how id imagine a katara/zuko fusion would be, and the fact that i shipped zutara (very hard lol) was what lead me down this thought path rn

i feel like even to me this concept sounds weird and far fetched but like, gem fusion made enough sense for someone to write with its clearly, usually, romantic implications and we all “get” that, so whom knows???

another thing ive noticed while writing this is for a good few of these ships you can argue the boys in them can be read gay, like jack sparrow and zuko and aang, which feels even more strongly like me trying to marry my gay boy feelings to my tomboy realities [thinking emoji]

the biggest reason i think this makes sense to me is because when i was 10 i became obsessed with the idea that this boy i was friends with and i were secretly twins separated at birth, like i was so into the concept that we looked alike, i like hoped and wished so hard for it to be true, i wished a christmas miracle would happen for fucking real and a magic door in my house would open and be his new room and itd all work out perfectly! and you might think this was a manifestation of my difficulties with my family and wishing to leave it, but in my dream world my parents were still my parents and he came to live with us- which makes me think the obsession of ME looking like this BOY was a manifestation of my gender feelings, which i think can maybe be traced to this concept of pairing a visually similar, possibly gay, brunette boy to every brunette and/or tomboyish girl

anyway. if you actually read all of this id love it if you lmk somehow (doesnt need to be a like) like this is clearly very long and strange but i hope it makes sense. i think i stop myself a lot from ever commenting on gender or theory or whatever but i am a living breathing trans person who has experienced things and i have opinions and i dont think im claiming anything destructive with this lol i think its not unusual to reflect on the way you interacted with the world as a gay/trans kid

also im obviously not saying that shipping straight things is somehow inherently queer, im not trying to retroactively claim something about straight ships, like, those two characters are still functionally straight, and i definitely also shipped probably all of them for normal shipping reasons (although, kid ones, so less “oh theres a lot of ACTUAL romantic subtext between these two” but rather “oh theyre friends and would be cute together!” (or like they kissed and i was like O: )) but im just trying to theorize about something its possible my tiny trans brain was trying to express- and who knows maybe im not the only one!

anyway i guess the TL;DR is: when i was a kid i had a lot of “unconventional” straight ships- i already observed that i eschewed the main canon pairings in kids media in what was probably my tiny baby brains rejection of hetero culture, but i also actively shipped side characters who looked like me, and also looked like each other (ie, both tall and brunette, a boy and girl counterpart of Each Other) OR characters who seemed to be a gayish boy and a tomboyish girl, and im theorizing that maybe the reason that was was my tiny trans brain wanting to gem fusion those two together because of my Gender Feelings and fuse the boy with the girl and this desire manifested in shipping therefore thinking about a lot these pairings of boy and girl counterparts

[imaginedmelody]

I think I’m finally ready to try and write my “The Magicians” season finale reaction post.

I’ve been collecting my thoughts on this for the last almost-week, because I knew that this post would be a difficult one; it’s hard to sort through all the opinions and feelings and put them down in a way that makes sense. I’ll try to hit on my major takeaways under the readmore. Bear in mind that my reaction is mixed. Conflicted is the word I’ve been using. I really sympathize with the pain that much of the fandom is feeling, even if I don’t feel it on a level that’s the same (or perhaps comparable) to theirs. I’ll try to dig into that in this post a bit.

I’m a new viewer to this show, as I’ve said many times before. I tried to watch it two years ago, and found it confusing in that I felt like it failed to resonate with me even though I still felt strangely drawn to it. I would watch an episode, feel unsatisfied and only barely interested, but then the next day I would feel oddly compelled to watch the next one. After about 5 episodes of season 1, I gave up. I picked it back up again about 9 weeks ago; I guess I was one of the many viewers who came along because of 4x05, although I didn’t realize that was why I was pulled back in- I just started seeing more and more about the show on my social media again, and it was enough to make me want to give it another try.

This time, I was hooked. I marathon-watched the whole show in probably 4-5 weeks and loved almost every moment (except for a couple of the really distressingly disturbing ones). I was so moved by 3x05, “A Life in the Day,” that I wrote this post about how the show felt like a missing piece had slotted into place at the end of that episode; like a photo that you don’t realize is slightly out of focus until someone adjusts the resolution and it just resolves. I got caught up enough to livetweet somewhere around episode 7 or 8 of season 4, and have been enjoying my integration into the fandom, although I’m still very peripherally a part of it.

I say all this because, as a new viewer, the fallout of 4x13 has been...confusing. Not confusing as in “I don’t understand why this is happening,” but in the sense that the fandom’s collective grief can feel kind of alienating to new viewers. That’s not intentional on the part of seasoned fans, and it’s not something that anyone should feel responsible for or obligated to change. It’s just difficult because we have only just invested in the show. We may be devastated at the loss of Quentin, many of us for the same reasons longtime viewers are (the loss of queer representation, for instance, or the way it seemed to counteract the positive development of a mentally ill character). But at the same time, a lot of us are more positive overall, even if we think killing off that character was a bad choice. We’re still kind of wrapped up in our enthusiasm, so that our grief just feels like another strong emotion we’re feeling, rather than a betrayal. And it can be awkward because we don’t want to express that too boldly or strongly, because we don’t want to appear to be trivializing the grief of other fans. I think that’s an unfair position that the show, not the fans, puts us in. We’re already new to the community, and now we feel less engaged in what is very much a communal emotional response. Positivity feels like rubbing salt in other fans’ wounds. So we’re not sure where we stand.

I was in shock when the show killed off Quentin. Like most viewers, I couldn’t believe it. I waited for them to find a way to reverse it. It was like a hole forming in my heart when they didn’t. I mentioned on twitter later that night that I cry all the time when I watch TV and movies- literally, if something is in any way beautiful, or sad, or exciting, or happy, I’m getting teary-eyed. But once the credits roll and the story is done, my emotional response is usually finished too. If I’m gonna react to it in any other way, it’ll be intellectual (through meta or fanfic) rather than emotional.

But when this episode ended, I finished my cup of tea, went upstairs, and got in the shower. And all of a sudden, before I even knew it, I was crying. It had been 15 minutes since the episode ended and I was still emotional enough to cry. Since then, because I’m a glutton for emotion who likes to lean into anything that makes me feel strongly, I’ve rewatched the episode once and the “Take On Me” scene like eight times- and every single time I’ve cried, even if it’s just a little. It touches some raw emotional place in me that very few shows get to. And I think I’m in awe of that as much as I’m in pain because of it.

I never quite got to the outrage that other fans did, though. That could be for a number of reasons- less prolonged attachment as a new viewer (although I feel very attached to the show and characters); greater privilege to not feel personally attacked by the loss; just having more emotional energy to engage with the scene. But I felt simultaneously anguished and energized by the episode, including the death. It broke my heart, but it also pulled me in. It’s very confusing. I’m angry at how things increasingly seem to have been mishandled, and I’m disappointed at the fallout this has for the show and the fans, and I’m in disagreement with the validity of the choice. But I still feel engaged and almost excited by it. That’s a hard balance to reconcile.

It really does seem to me like the writers dropped the ball. The fact that they knew they were killing Quentin off bothers me, but actually, the thing that I find most galling is that the other actors weren’t in on the plan. We have it on good authority that they filmed a fake scene, where presumably Q comes back somehow, and all the actors were led to believe that was what was in the episode until two days before the finale, when they were told the truth for the first time. My question is: why? Did they not trust the actors to keep the secret? I can kind of understand faking out the audience, but why play that mind game with your actors, who are part of the creative team and should know what’s going on? Why deprive them of the chance to say goodbye to Jason Ralph as a fellow cast member? So far, in every interview, no one has really explained what the point of that fakeout was. If I was an actor on the show, I’d feel really upset about that.

The other thing that’s really been grinding my gears is something that I saw mentioned in comments before I ever saw it in context in the article (and thank you to everyone who helped me find the source). It’s a quote from John McNamara, one of the showrunners, from an article in the Hollywood Reporter, in which he says this about the decision to kill off Q:

“... in a way, I'm not sure what we would have done with the character had he lived.”

I took issue with that statement for two reasons. The first is from a writing craft perspective. I understand wanting to take risks and shake up expectations, and I understand that “kill someone off” is common writing advice when you get stuck in a project. But it’s my firm belief that the main character (and even on an ensemble show like this, yes, there is a clear lead character) should pretty much always be safe. Because the premise of the show is structured in some essential way around him; that’s why he’s the lead. And that’s why almost every show that gets rid of its main character, either by recasting or just removing and replacing with other characters, goes downhill in quality- because that original character was integral to the story.

I’ve said before that literally the only story I can think of that is better for having killed off its protagonist is friggin’ Julius Caesar. When I teach that play, we discuss at that moment in Act 3- and then again at the end of the play- what it means for the narrative if your title character dies halfway through his story. What it means that Marc Antony is the lead for the rest of the play. How Caesar is still so central to the plot even though he’s dead. Part of the reason this doesn’t work on TV- the reason the plot can’t still centralize the character they killed in the narrative- is because a play is a single self-contained entity that you consume all at once, and a TV series is, well, serialized. The show can’t keep centering a character who’s no longer present, because it wouldn’t resonate in a long-form narrative that you consume in small installments. That’s why shows that kill off characters don’t keep bringing them up. They throw in a couple of heartfelt moments that directly or indirectly reference the character, and then they move on and you’re supposed to let them go. A protagonist has to live to keep being important to the story.

So I am of the firm belief that if your main character has outlived his usefulness, the problem is with your narrative as a whole, not with that particular character. If you can’t think of anywhere meaningful for that character to go, you don’t need to kill him off- you need to restructure your whole story so that it’s responsive to him again. It doesn’t have to revolve around him all the time- the show has frequently centered around other characters prominently and effectively, and Q doesn’t have to be in the spotlight all the time- but if he’s no longer relevant? Your whole story has a problem.

But the second thing that aggravates me about that comment is this: not only do I think Q should not ever become decentralized and disconnected from his show’s narrative, I don’t think he has. The events of this season provided so much room to develop that character. He learned his discipline (minor mendings), which has tremendous practical usefulness as well as symbolic significance. “Escape From the Happy Place” reopened a potential relationship that contains a whole wellspring of emotional resonance as well as complication. His father died- you can do a lot with the grief related to that. His reconnection with Alice felt hollow to me, but even that could be useful narratively (especially if she goes on to lead the Library, which could create a layer of separation and potential for either teamwork or conflict of interest that could sustain several intriguing narratives). Even his tendency toward suicidal self-sacrifice could have been brought up; the conversation he had with Penny about whether he was trying to be a hero or just finally finding a way to kill himself could be had after a failed self-sacrifice attempt just as meaningfully as a successful one.

Quentin has been filled with potential this entire season in the storyline. All of this plus his emotional reckoning with Fillory in the scene where he brings the garden back to life... it seemed like the writers spent the whole season re-establishing all the potential Q had. It didn’t read like a season in which the writers didn’t know what to do with him any more. So the decision to kill him off does seem purely like an effort to challenge themselves as writers and wrong-foot the fans. Which I don’t think is enough of a reason to do it.

Because here’s the thing: I’m a writer too, and I understand that the dichotomy of pursuing your own writing vision and capitulating to the fans’ wants and needs is a delicate one. Writers hate being told what to write, and with social media and fan conventions and other very close forms of engagement, fans have more ways to make their desires known than perhaps ever before. They have every right to make the choice that supports their creative vision, and to do things that force them to stretch their limits as creators. But this feels like it went wildly off its mark. It feels less like an experiment and more like a careless move, and I think they could have approached it a lot better.

I wouldn’t rule out seeing Q again on the show one day. I think if they’re willing to fake us all out once, they’d do it again. I’m comforted by the fact that they appear to have consulted the author early in the process and gotten his blessing, although his comments since then seem to walk back his involvement or contradict what the showrunners have said. (Whether that’s because they’ve overstated his involvement or enthusiasm, or whether he was involved in the decision and is now trying to distance himself from the fallout, it’s impossible to say.)

What is less heartening for me is that some of these writers/creators come from Supernatural, a show that has gone on for far too long and has been retreading tired old ground for years. I only watched to about season 8, but it just feels like an endless cycle of similar plot arcs and killing off and resurrecting the same characters over and over again. The Magicians, admittedly, feels a lot more well-crafted, so I don’t think they’d get as lazy as SPN seems to be- but it’s still a worry, all the same.

(Side note: I am often adamant that unless it’s a legacy franchise like Doctor Who, most shows should intentionally be constructed to be a maximum of 5-7 seasons. I think a lot of broadcast shows are less high-quality because they are just vague pitches that get riffed into a show; the writers and creators don’t come into it with an endpoint in mind, so the show goes on as long as they can add any material at all to it or until they get cancelled, whichever comes first. That means that the plot feels aimless and unstructured. The difference between “prestige TV” and “regular TV” is not just better writing and acting overall- it’s that those shows tend to have a very defined arc, and they know where they’re going, so everything is in service of a common idea. Not just a vague and easily sellable premise that can have a ton of stuff derived from it with little effort. I think The Magicians sits above most broadcast shows in quality, but this is where it is starting to show its weak points. And that’s why I think the creators need to be very deliberate about making sure everything going forward contributes to a very defined arc.)

So that’s where I am right now. Emotionally a wreck; disappointed in the process of this choice and feeling the grief other fans feel; strangely invigorated at the same time? Unsure where to go from here, really. Still committed to watching the show as much as I ever have been, but wary at the same time. It’s complicated. But I’m ready to embrace the complexity of it.