#it's been literally a decade since I read great gatsby

[alenadragonne]

Heads up, this is probably our next event. Or a rerun.

[utilitycaster]

(Long ask warning)

Hello! I'm jumping on the appreciation train to say thank you so much for all of your meta and analysis! I just found your blog today, and you've already given me so much clarity and context for things I've been noticing in the CR fandom lately.

I quite literally spent my summer living under a rock (in the woods leading spelunking for scouts!) and so was completely out of the loop from early June through September. And while I am not yet caught up (I'm about to start ep. 65), I have been going through the tags and ao3, because I primarily engage with fandom through fic and I don't care about spoilers. And I can't help but notice that everything being written for c3 lately is just... monochromatic. The Hells have such interesting characters and premises. One would think they're ripe for creative and interesting fic. And yet even what little gen fic that I have seen since returning to civilization has largely been boiled down to reiterative mush with vaguely shippy overtones. I can totally see this being indicative of the cresting and waning of the Imodna and Callowmore shipping you've been discussing.

I've gotta ask though, is it really just shipping that is causing this problem? Or is there something else in the source material that you think could be affecting fic in particular?

This is the first time I've been in a fandom with ongoing source material in over a decade. I'm used to watching people beat dead horses in their own little corner, safe in the knowledge that I can block them and it isn't going to affect my experience in the slightest. I guess I'm just having a hard time believing/remembering that shipping can be this incidious.

So a couple of things: first, I was not heavily involved in fandom until Critical Role; I have a decent amount of background knowledge from being on Tumblr and because I do tend to look into/research this kind of thing because it's very interesting to me, but you will probably have better snapshot of what fandom looked like 10 years ago than I do. Second, fanfic has always been a tiny aspect of what I've engaged with and I do find the bulk of it to be dull and samey (which is why it is a tiny aspect), so again, you probably are a better judge of the quality of fanfic elsewhere.

With that said, as part of a much larger discussion of which I only have as mentioned pieces of the puzzle, I do think there's been a shift over the past decade or so of like...people expecting the source material to reflect fanfic-y desires, and resenting it when it does not; people not seeing the point in enjoying non-canon ships; and a broader theme of self-infantilization. This has to a small extent spilled over into published fiction, though thankfully there's plenty that isn't that. It's not just shipping (though that absolutely can be insidious to the point that people have been harassed and doxxed over it); I think it's a general taste for pablum that has been growing within fandom spaces.

I'll link a few posts I've made and a source that, while I cannot vouch for it per se I did read and found enlightening at the end but I think a really indicative example as of late was the fandom response to the show Good Omens (spoilers for Good Omens S2 in the next link if you are by any chance avoiding those). Obviously do not do anything obnoxious to the person who wrote this question, but there are a worrying number of people in fandom spaces who believe this unironically and uncritically: fiction exists to "save us from hurtful reality." And I do understand that the tumultuous politics and world events of the past decade are probably a factor; but I mean, have you looked at literature from the first half of the 20th century (or like. the second half, for that matter)? It is, in my opinion, only going to help put our modern world and issues in better context and honestly make you feel better in the long run if you read, say, The Great Gatsby or The Things They Carried instead of burying your head in lower case song lyrics ... (hurt/comfort, fix-it, happy ending, 6k) and like, to be clear, I have written a small portion of lower case song lyric-titled fics myself but most of them aren't terribly happy, and even so, god I'd be horrified if that was all people were reading.

We've seen it across fandom at large with the polls; I have not watched season 2 of Our Flag Means Death in part because I've realized with horror that this mentality has swept, plague-like, through that fandom; people are acting like having a canon queer ship on a small premium cable show in 2022 is world-changing and unprecedented while also kind of ignoring everything that isn't the central ship (including valid criticisms of how this takes a real-world plantation owner and turns him into a goofy fop, how there's precious few female characters and none in the main cast, and how the actually far more groundbreaking nb character is pushed aside in favor of the core M/M ship). Spoilers for Good Omens again (sorry in advance, Good Omens 2 was a realization point for me how deeply and widely this rot has set in in some places and I have a bunch of sources of people being like "guys stories require conflict and tension to be good" in response to the overwrought moaning that the story wasn't unambiguously happy) but this is another author responding to the "the desired endpoint of all fiction is obviously to have your ship living in a small house together in bliss and anything else is torment" mentality.

In addition to shipping another factor is, I think, people overidentifying with characters and as such being reluctant to actually put them through any sort of hardship, however minor. I recently reblogged a post about the origin of the concept "Mary Sue" and it led me to read a bit about its history, because it was in fact created by women. It was a woman in the Star Trek fandom who was sick of spending money to buy fanzines (pre-common home internet, let alone pre-Ao3) only to find the vast majority of the stories to be this "here is my self-insert who is perfect and beautiful and pure and every other character thinks she is the greatest even if that's entire OOC". It was a frustration with the abandonment of the characterizations in the original work. And that's true today - I have read a popular Imogen and Laudna fluff fic to see what the deal was and it stripped out so much of their premises and characterizations it was unrecognizeable as them but for the hair colors and occasional cringeworthy attempts to replicate Southern US dialect - but what was notable is that those people were at least being honest and writing OCs (though to be fair a lot of them were also young white teen girls and the only woman in TOS was black and that was probably also a factor). Now, you get people who cannot tolerate any analysis of characters that is less than flattering because instead of having an OC, they are identifying so strongly with, for example, Imogen or Ashton, that they cannot separate out the real character or understand this is not an attack on them (or, to be blunt, as someone who sees some of my own worse traits in both those characters, a necessary critique). It's not shipping, but it is that same "fiction should only ever be a soft blanket or a flattering mirror, never a dark mirror and certainly never a door" mentality.

I do place a little blame on fanfiction itself; I think having something that is roughly made to order and tells you exactly what it is up front means people start to think that is the only way, and that's why we have people claiming Chipotle is the height of cuisine while making gagging noises at the authentic Mexican restaurant except for fiction. I think fanfiction can be great; it's fun to write and I have read some great pieces. But a lot of it is mush and formulaic and as that Mary Sue history points out, always has been.

So anyway, to Bells Hells: I think past campaigns also had a lot of dull fanfiction; I think the Nein lent themselves more to poorly written angst than poorly written fluff but yeah a lot of that was really samey and bland in its own way. Fanfiction has always been formulaic to a degree but I think we're starting to see the generation of people who really have read more of that than like, books, and sure there are shitty books, but man there's a LOT of shitty fanfiction, and increasingly, I find that shitty published books are bad because they're too much like fanfiction. [If I get the chance today I have a post I want to write about the ignorance of fantasy tropes in the current fandom which I think is also driving some of this and which I alluded to in my post about shipping; like, I feel the almost automatic but oddly thought-free resistance to gods and fate and the 'right' way to respond to a tragic backstory comes from this ignorance; this also is a case in the D20 fandom when they've dipped into sci fi.] Shipping definitely is a factor, and I think again C3 has an influx of fans primarily here to ship in that "my ship must become canon and must 'win' for some arbitrary definition thereof" which is probably why so much of the fanfic sucks, but again, this is a larger self-infantilizing and entitled mentality that goes beyond mere ships.

Further reading (mostly my own posts but not exclusively)

The fandom echo chamber (also Good Omens spoilers in a broad sense), not by me

Some discussion on queerphobia being inserted only as a tool to assist with specific shipping narratives (I think this ties in again to like. people need obstacles to justify why the characters aren't already in their cottage by the sea but once the characters are together they discard these obstacles even if they are systemic and would still exist, which makes for really bad fanfic bc it's clearly poorly plotted and thought out)

Me on why this campaign isn't good for shipping but a lot of the fandom showed up primarily to ship (might be the post that prompted this ask tbf)

Fandom monocropping (not my post)

My treatise on Imogen and Laudna specifically which honestly, even now that they are canon, still largely holds up re: the fandom and a related one about similarly fluff-centric Change is Evil and the highest order of fiction is Two Blorbos In A House With Zero Problems mentality (not by me but I've been part of that discussion)

[fridayiminlcve]

I kinda see yr point re booktok but at the same time like........how different is it from pulp fiction that's been around for decades? there's the performance of reading element now (tho this probably existed in diff forms pre socmed) but I ultimately see it as like, not too different from the ppl who read every new James Patterson book or exclusively read Amish romance novels, like cheap, quickly produced fluffy reading material is by no means the new phenomenon here.

there was nothing wrong with pulp fiction by itself, you literally said it's always existed. the problem occurs when it becomes a part of the mainstream and theres a drastic drop in literature other than these kind of cheap novels. when you think of books written in the early 1800s, minds would immediately go to jane austen or the brontë sisters. likewise with the early half of 1900s makes you think of the great gatsby and to kill a mockingbird and if i asked you to name 3 books from 2005-2012 then you could do that very easily, with percy jackson and the hunger games. alongside these books, which would be read for generations over generations and go down as a cult classic, these colleen hoover/emily henry books can't hold a candle to the iconic literature of an era. sure, james patterson make a lot of these cheap fictions but how many people considering themselves "readers" actually read exclusively their books?

the current generation has devalued reading so much with the introduction of tiktok and instagram. since 2019 or so, there are so many books being put out of the exact fanfic-y nature that it destroys literature to a commodity and aesthetic to profit off of. none of these books actually have what it takes to be classified as literature. borrowing some stuff from @espressopdf 's reblog, when the consumption of books becomes so fast paced and meaningless at such a rapid rate with no intentions of slowing down, it is a bad thing. when these books are introduced as mainstream, they leave a lasting impression of literature of the 2020s. when future generations look back to these books and the craze they stirred up, they would try to imitate them and then every single book will be as senseless and bland as these current ones are on the pathway of being. it's not something that's harmless entirely, and the more people understand that is the better but lets be real here the people who read these kind of books exclusively are not going to listen to a word of what we have to say.

[storytime-reviews]

End of the Decade Favourite Book Tag

Thanks to @thereadingchallengechallenge and  @thelivebookproject for tagging me! This is going to be hard because I’ve always been a voracious reader so no doubt I’m going to forget half of what I’ve read because I’ve only been on Goodreads since like 2017. 

1. High fantasy books that are obsession-worthy.

I’m going to second @thereadingchallengechallenge here and go with the Lightbringer series by Brent Weeks. It’s honestly filled with so many plot twists that I’m always hungry for more and once I’ve re-read the rest I’m going to read the final book, which I got for Christmas!

Does Tamora Pierce count as high fantasy? Because everything she writes is brilliant!

2. Urban fantasy books filled with people you want as friends.

The characters from the Shadowhunter Chronicles! I honestly love the originals aka Clary, Jace, Magnus, Alec, Isabelle and Simon and love so many of the other characters in the various other series as well! 

3. Portal fantasy you fall in love with multiple times.

I mean you can’t go wrong with Narnia, just like @thereadingchallengechallenge and @thelivebookproject both included it as well! Inkheart by Cornelia Funke-not technically portals, but similarish. 

4. Novella that just makes you sigh cause it’s so lovely.

[skipped]

5. Historically inaccurate but laugh out loud.

[skipped]

6. Satire that makes you reconsider your whole world view.

[skipped]

7. Happy, happy, happy, and sad, sad, sad.

I’m gonna steal @thelivebookproject‘s answer, The Book Thief by Markus Zusak.

8. No, I’m not too old for kids’ books, what are you talking about???

Literally everything by Enid Blyton, Roald Dahl, Rick Riordan etc. A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket, Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer

9. I’m also not too old for picture books either and never will be.

I love fairytales, like every kind, especially because there are so many great fairytale picture books. 

10. Whoah, never expected that ending and to have that much fun!!!

Pretty much everything by Matthew Reilly and Dan Brown. Their thrillers really keep up the pace and I genuinely love the reveals. 

11. Like I’m scared, but I’m happy about it.

[skipped]

12. Classically favourite.

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen is my favourite book ever, so I have to include that here. 

But some of my other faves that are classics: The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Lost Honor of Katharina Blum by Heinrich Boll, anything by Shakespeare etc

13. Party in your ears.

I wanna say Simon vs The Homo Sapiens Agenda because the Love, Simon soundtrack is incredible. 

14. Boom!!! Pow!!! Wham!!!

The Four Legendary Kingdoms by Matthew Reilly. As someone who majored in ancient history, I noticed all of the foreshadowing and references and waiting for it to all come together was brilliant – I honestly think he did an amazing job putting it all together. 

15. Oh wow, this is me!!

Tbh I love OzYA set in highschool, both when I was in highschool myself and reading them now. I especially love Jaclyn Moriarty and Randa Abdel-Fattah. But recently read Amelia Westlake by Erin Gough and fell in love with it – I especially related to a lot of the private school shenanigans as I went to one, and I also really related to Harriet, one of the main characters, as I could be a lot like her at school!

16. I can’t stop thinking about this book.

Daring to Drive by Manal al-Sharif, The Sixth Extinction: An Unnatural History by Elizabeth Kolbert, Equal Justice: My Journey as a Woman, a Soldier and a Muslim by Rabia Siddique. These are some of my fave non-fiction books and they’re really important. 

17. A book you got from Tumblr that made it to your fave.

Red, White and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston, I Was Born For This by Alice Oseman, To Kill A Kingdom by Alexandra Christo, The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle

18. A book you had high expectations for and then the author OVER delivered.

Rich People Problems by Kevin Kwan. I honestly loved all the books but Kwan really brought out all the stops in the final one!

It would take me forever to write about all my faves as there are so many and not all of them even fit into these :)

Tagging: @myownlittlebookcorner, @backlogbooks, @flamingmirrorbookish, @beautifulpaxielreads, @literachel, @lornaslibrary, @doughtah, @darkestwings

and whoever else wants to do this! 

[tastelikesleepdeprivation]

Domestic Human!Jack Headcanons featuring his three dads:

-Sam : no dessert after dinner, it will rot your teeth and we don’t have dental insurance because, legally, Dean and I are dead and Cas isn’t human so he can’t have insurance

-Cas: *sneaks Jack a cookie under the table during dinner, winks*

-Jack, with tears in his eyes, “thank,,”

Jack sneaking back into the bunker:

-Cas sitting in a chair and turns the lamp on: “where have you been?”

-Jack: “uhh with Dean”

-Dean, sitting in a chair next to Cas, turning on another lamp: “wanna try that again”

-Jack: “uhh with,, Sam?”

-Sam, in another chair next to Dean, turning on another lmap: “wanna try that AGAIN?”

-Jack likes it best when Dean cooks cause Cas can’t taste anything but “particles” so it’s always bland and Sam just can’t cook but Dean makes the best burgers Jack has ever tasted

-Jack sometimes has nightmares about Lucifer but if it’s a really bad one it’s about Dean, Cas, and Sam dying while Jack is standing by, unable to do anything cause he doesn’t have his powers and he wakes up panting and in a cold sweat with Cas right by his side because Cas doesn’t need sleep and will always be there to make sure to wake up Jack and comfort him during his night terrors

-Sam introduces Jack to books and tears up when Jack gets super excited about them because finally someone else who reads (not countering the literal one book Dean has read) and his favorite thing is sitting by Jacks bed side while reading The Wizard of Oz cause Sam told Jack all about their badass friend Charlie and her girlfriend Dorothy who saved all of them and Jack loves hearing about this apparently very real magical world

-Jack is actually really observant for his young age so when he sees Dean shuffling into the kitchen, scratching at his two week old beard with bags under his red rimmed eyes from fitful rest he announces a vacation day which Dean originally objects to but when Jack gets Cas and Sam on board he caves and so Dean hops in Baby with Sam to his right, Jack behind him and Cas behind Sam and they just drive. Dean puts on some classic Rock and Roll to “culture the kid right, Sammy” and they stop at some greasy diner and Dean laughs over his burger while Sam grumbles into his salad, Cas flashes his gummy smile and Jack hides his grin behind his drink and looks at his family and just living in the happiness he helped create and is a part of

-Dean got to be a father twice before technically but it never really felt like this. Never really felt like anything with Emma and while he got to be with Ben for a couple months it never felt permant, not like this, not like with Jack. So Dean cherishes every small moment he gets to teach and pass on something to Jack, whether it be through how to rile up Sam with a quick joke, or how to correctly wash and fold Cas’ trench coat, or do some work on Baby. Teach him something that doesn’t involve killing or hunting. Something normal, something a normal father would pass onto his son

-One of Jacks favorite occurrences between jobs is when Dean would cook all of them dinner and he would be wearing the apron Sam got for him as a joke (but secretly loves) and Dean would put on some music and would loudly sing along, shouting the lyrics while wildly waving the spatula in the air.

-Sometimes, Jack would pretend to be asleep when he would hear footsteps outside his door because he knew that Cas always comes and checks on him after he goes to bed. Cas carefully cracks open the door, and while Jack pretends to be asleep, Cas will put a gentle hand in his hair and place a chaste kiss on his forehead and Jack would wait until Cas pulls the door closed to smile into his covers

-Shopping with Sam was Jacks favorite. Sam usually did the shopping because Cas would forget the human stuff like tooth paste and toilet paper and Dean would buy pie instead of vegetables because he “forgot ‘em, sorry Sammy” so Sam always did the grocery shopping and would let Jack tag along, letting him get ONE candy (he always got nougat)

-Watching marathons with Dean is one of Jacks favorite passtimes because while Dean was a closeted chick flick watcher, Jack was an out and proud chick flick fanatic so both boys would sneak away for a night every so often when a new movie finally came out on Netflix

-One of Jacks favorite memories was when everyone went grocery shopping together when Jack was first turned human to find out what kind of foods he liked so he could have it available at the bunker, Dean grabbed the chips and junk food for him to try while Sam grabbed the fruits and vegetables, Cas gave his opinion now and then about what he rememberd from when he was human, especially his like of pb&js.

-Jack would go through bouts of insomnia to keep away the nightmares and this was the beginning of his midnight trips to the kitchen for snacks where he was joined sometimes by Sam but mostly Castiel which he preferred cause they would stay up late talking about the beginning of the universe and the thousands of years Cas has lived and what he has seen.

-When he turns One on May 18th, Dean, Sam, and Castiel decide to throw him a party, in their own way of course. Dean bakes the cake which is chocolate and has writing in icing on the top which says “baby’s first birthday” and they have streamers from toilet paper and first-aid gauze hung up all over the bunker. Sam gets him a new flannel so that he “can officially become part of the team” and a new book called The Great Gatsby which he can’t wait to start. Cas gets him a mixtape he made from all the songs he noticed Jack bobbing his head to when Dean would blast the radio. And Dean. Dean gets him a necklace. Not like the one Dean had, he told Jack all about the one Sam gave to him. But a necklace just for him that had the angels symbol for protection hand carved into the wood

-Sam is the first one to call Jack son to his face. Sam had just finished the last chapter of The Great Gatsby and Jack was crying because he thought that Gatsby didn’t deserve that kind of end to his life. Sam had closed the book, set it on the bedside table, wiped the tears from Jacks face, kissed him on the forehead and said “ it’s alright son, his story isn’t over, just moved to a new place”

-Cas first called him son on the night of one of Jacks worst night terrors. Jack heard screaming and woke up in a cold sweat to Cas at his side holding him close and whispering “I’m here, Jack, I’m here son, it was only a dream, I’m here” in his ear. Only until the screaming in his ears stopped did he realize it was coming from him and it wasn’t until he had fallen asleep on Cas’ shoulder from exhaustion and woken up the next morning to feel Cas still running his fingers through his hair did he notice that Cas called him son

-Sam and Cas had called Jack son early on and while Dean knew in his head and in his heart that Jack was his son he couldn’t say it to him. Experience and pain had taught him that once he said it, it would be real and so would the pain he will feel if, when, Jack gets hurt or killed. So he avoided it, calling him kid, kiddo, sport, and every other dumb nickname under the sun but still not that word until one hunt. It was supposed to be a normal job (famous last words, Winchester) until it went sideways and the werewolf got a claw into and up Jacks stomach. Only when Dean had shot the bastard in the chest until his gun was clicking empty did Dean fall to his knees next to Jack, holding his hands over the kids wound shouting at Sam to “hurry up and get the damn car!” Only when he looked at Jacks closed eyes and the shallow rise and fall of his chest and sees his pale face did he whisper for only Jacks ears “come on son, hold on. You gotta stay with me Jack, you gotta wake up son, you gotta wake up, you have to wake up”

-When Jacks hair starts curling around his ears does Sam decide to give him a haircut. Well, it was Sam at first until Dean grabbed the scissors and hip checked his brother out of the way saying “with your mane, I’m surprised you even noticed Jacks hair getting long. Move over, Sammy, I cut your hair for twelve years I’ll cut the kids hair”

-it’s Fourth of July and Dean insists on taking Jack to see the fireworks. One of Deans best memories is of him and Sammy shooting them off in some abandoned parking lot decades ago so he thought that he could give Jack a memory just as precious. Sam packs a picnic with some snacks and Castiel stuffs the impala with blankets. They drive out to the nearest town and set up shop in front of a closed grocery store across from the park where the towns show was set up to go off. Castiel hadn’t seen fireworks up close before so he was also excited. Jack was practically bouncing in his seat asking “ are they really made from fire?? How do they work??” And Sam and Dean would laugh and tell him they were really loud and colorful. When the fireworks officially started, Jack was terrified. It was so loud and he could feel the reverberations in his chest, they would come in no random order so he was suprised by the POPS. But after a while he was soon enraptured by the colors. Cas was just as enchanted by the way they would appear one moment and be gone the next. Jack and Cas loved the show so much they asked when the next one was and both were just as confused when Sam and Dean just laughed saying not until New Years

-Since they can’t exactly call a cleaning service to come and mop their underground bunker filled with weapons and proof of the supernatural, Sam established a chores list. Some chores depended on the day, like if Dean cooked he didn’t have to do the dishes but every person was given a chore, no matter what. Dean always grumbled but everyone knew he preferred a clean bunker. Cas would simply nod and go about his work, sometimes humming whilst doing so. Jack was just glad he had something to do that was of use to his family. And ironically, Sam was the one who forgot to do his chores most often

-whenever Jack manages to join the older three men on a hunt he always gets stuck in the back seat of the impala. Dean always drives, Sam always gets shotgun, Cas always sits behind Sam and Jack sits behind Dean. He doesn’t mind that much because on the truly long rides, the cross country rides, Cas lets him put his feet in his lap so he can lean against the door or sometimes he puts his head in Cas’ lap while Cas runs his fingers through his hair, falling asleep to the sound of the impalas engine rumbling, the quiet humming of the radio, and the muffled rapping of Deans thumbs on the steering wheel.

-Now that Jack is fully human, his body starts being fully human too which involves shaving. Sam pointed out his stubble first and offered to pick up razors and shaving cream next time he went to the store. Jacks first attempt at shaving began and ended quickly as he had no idea what to do, so he went to Cas. Cas,, tried. Being an angel and his vessel remaining the same he had no reason to shave (besides the one time after purgatory which still doesn’t make any sense) but he doesn’t know how to manually shave, just, angel shave. And that’s how Dean finds them later, in the bathroom both with their faces covered in shaving cream and staring at the razor like it would come alive and attack them. Dean chuckled but refrained from making a joke and helped to teach both boy and angel how to shave.

-Cas’ signature Pat of Reassurance is on Jacks shoulder. He’ll just hold his hand there on Jacks shoulder for a couple seconds longer than necessary, pat twice and then walk away. Sams signature Pat of Reassurance is on Jacks head or the back of his neck. Most of the time it’s a solid weight, a comforting weight but sometimes it will be a playful weight, a ‘you did something good and this is how I show it’ weight. Deans signature Pat of Reassurance is on Jacks back, right inbetween his shoulder blades. Most of the time it’s more of a slap than a pat but when it really counts, when Jack yearns for a physical sign of a reassurance, Dean always seems to know and just holds his hand steady

[perlukafarinn]

Movies (I saw) of the 2010s, ranked

Because I had lots of better things to do but no inclination to do them.

As I went through all the new releases I watched this decade, a few things came to mind: 

I missed so much! Most recently, I still haven’t seen Parasite, The Lighthouse or The Irishman. I’ve also seen only one of Disney’s live action remakes, two out of four Star Wars films of the decade, and I’ve missed quite a few of Marvel and DC’s outings. My tendency to mostly watch older films came to bite me in the ass here. But c’est la vie, there’s only so many hours in the day! 

A huge part of my viewing history took place during film festivals, so festival movies are way over-represented here. I’m not mad about it.

There’s not too many outright bad movies on my list, because I tend to avoid movies that look bad or like I might not like them (shocker, I know). Even the ones in my bottom ten aren’t as dreadful as I was expecting. 

There’s no way I can rank all these films numerically! What about movies that I can tell are good but just aren’t for me? What about movies that are bad but enjoyable? How can you compare tired Oscar-bait with soulless blockbusters? It’s impossible!

Hence these categories. I’m doing a top 10 worst and best, and the categories go roughly from worse to better movies, but otherwise this isn’t based on quality so much as what clever category names I could come up with (or couldn’t, as the case may be). I’m also listing the movies within each category alphabetically because that’s even less ranking I need to do.

Buckle up, this is over 6000 words...

Oh, and if you don’t feel like reading the whole thing I still encourage you to reply with your own favorite movies of the decade! 

The Worst Exactly what it says on the tin. These movies aren’t just unenjoyable or disposable, they are actively unpleasant to watch. 

American Hustle (2013) Wait, this got how many Oscar nominations again??

The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug (2013) This movie is so bloated and yet they couldn’t find any time to actually develop most of the main characters? I had such a bad time watching this one, I ended up skipping out on the last part of the trilogy. 

Hurricane Bianca (2016) This looked like it might be enjoyably bad but it wasn’t. I still love Bianca Del Rio, don’t get me wrong, but her humor is not the kind you build a whole movie around, yet alone two. And yet…

Hurricane Bianca: From Russia With Hate (2018) Yeah, I watched them both. I’m a simple woman: I see Katya in a trailer, I watch. I really shouldn’t have bothered, this one is even worse.

Iron Man 2 (2010) Superhero fatigue got me bad in the past few years but even before then I hated this movie. Literally nothing enjoyable here, I was aggressively bored while watching. The Lack (2014) This is a movie about women, written and directed by a man, called “The Lack”. You might think I’m being uncharitable to say this movie is entirely about penis envy but the writer/director himself confirmed this at the Q&A I was at. This is why Q&As are always a bad idea, people!

Left Behind (2014) This one tips into “enjoyably bad” at times but in the end, it’s still two hours of your life wasted on a movie meant to make its Evangelical viewers feel vindicated in their horrible beliefs. Morgenrøde (2014) I have a fairly high tolerance for slow movies but this movie is sloooowwww and literally nothing happens in it. This is the movie that taught me not to trust it when festival brochures use the word “contemplative”.

Percy Jackson & the Olympians: The Lightning Thief (2010) Just dreadful. This is the worst kind of film in my books: the kind made to follow a trend, not to tell a story. 

Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides (2011) It’s been eight years since the fourth PotC movie came out?? God, it’s been a long decade.

The Utterly Disposable I didn’t exactly have a bad time watching these but they left no impression on me. 

Alex Strangelove (2018)  Netflix has released so many unremarkable-looking teen movies this decade. This is one of the few I bothered to watch and it’s cute enough, I guess. 

Fyrir framan annað fólk (2016)  I am Icelandic but I don’t watch a whole lot of Icelandic movies and I feel kind of guilty about that. Not guilty enough to give a boring movie a pass, though.

Ghostbusters (2016)  This super did not need to exist and not even my love for Kate McKinnon makes it any less disposable. 

The Great Gatsby (2013)  At least it’s pretty.

Hot Tub Time Machine (2010) I remember this getting a few laughs out of me but that’s about it.

The Imitation Game (2014) I think I just… don’t like Beneditch Cumberbatch? Sorry. This movie is the perfect expression of the bland, middle-of-the-road biopic, with the added mishandling of the subject’s sexuality.

Isn’t It Romantic (2019)  I love a good satire but this ain’t it, chief. This movie isn’t doing anything that Crazy Ex-Girlfriend hasn’t done 100x better.

John Carter (2012)  If you’re gonna throw this much money into something, you could at least hire a charismatic lead actor. Then again, it seemed to work for Avatar. Magic Mike (2012)  I did like that this sexy stripper movie kept showing how unhappy the main character is doing what he does as if that wouldn’t totally ruin the fantasy.

Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates (2016)  Watched this on an airplane, which is fitting. This feels like a quintessential airplane movie; it’s mildly entertaining but ultimately disposable enough that it has completely slipped your mind by the time you reach baggage claim.

Paul (2011)  Occasionally funny, I think? Barely remember it tbh.

Planetary (2015)     There’s some interesting points buried in here but the movie’s too busy trying to look important to actually get them across effectively. Also feels surprisingly padded for just 80 minutes. Valentine’s Day (2010) Taylor Swift was actually kind of funny in this, which was a pleasant surprise. Zero impact otherwise. 

“I Have No Memory of This Place” Movies I literally could not remember watching until I had read the entire synopsis, but for one reason or another was not comfortable calling “disposable”. 

Bobby Sands: 66 Days (2015), The Departure (2017),  Hell Is Empty: All the Devils Are Here (2016), Innsæi (2016), Last of the Elephant Men (2015), Late Summer (2016), Speed Sisters (2015), Una (2016), The War Show (2016) Lumping all of these together because they’re all festival movies I have hardly any memory of and that I may have in fact fallen asleep over.

Incendies (2010)  Chalk this up to me seeing it almost a decade ago. When I finally remembered it, I could vaguely recall finding it affective. Probably due for a rewatch.

Prisoners (2013), Rush (2013), Warrior (2011) Around 2012-2014 I was working my way through IMdB’s top 250 list and I saw so many forgettable movies about men committing various violent acts. Literally can’t remember a single thing about these movies.

I’m So Sick of Superheroes Dear God Make It Stop I’d probably like some of these more if not for superhero fatigue but that is the trade-off for total global dominance. A couple of superhero movies did escape this category and you’ll see them later on my list.

Thor (2011), Iron Man Three (2013), Thor: The Dark World (2013), Captain America: Winter Soldier (2014), Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Ant-Man (2015), Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015), Captain America: Civil War (2016), Avengers: Infinity War (2018) Lumping all of Marvel’s movies in this category together because I don’t really have a lot to say about Marvel anymore. Special mention to Winter Soldier for being the movie that soured on me the most and to Age of Ultron for in hindsight being the beginning of my superhero fatigue. 

The Dark Knight Rises (2012) Boy, this trilogy ended on a sour note.  Man of Steel (2013)  Confused story structure aside, this movie is utterly grey and joyless. It’s also army propaganda! 

X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) The only reason I watched this was because it was on IMdB’s top 250 list. Peter Dinklage was good in it, if I recall correctly.

Don’t Like This Nope.

12 Years a Slave (2013)  Very uncomfortable to sit through, which I get was the point, but I’m not sure it was the right choice. It honestly feels like misery porn.

Black Swan (2010) I’ve long made peace with the fact that Darren Aronofsky will just never click with me.

The Broken Circle Breakdown (2012) This movie is exhausting to watch because of the near constant country music playing. Loudly. 

Kate Plays Christine (2016)  This is a movie about a really interesting topic but instead of the real tragedy that actually happened it chooses to focus on an actress’s fictional struggle to connect with her role. I think the movie wanted us to think the struggle was real (heh) but for that they would’ve needed a better actress.  La La Land (2016)  I love classic musicals and I really wanted to like this movie but in the end I just couldn’t. As a movie it’s okay but it’s not a good musical and the whole white savior of jazz thing was……….. an odd choice.

Last Days in the Desert (2015)  I’m a sucker for good, thoughtful religious films. The idea of Jesus and the devil being played by the same actor was intriguing to me and I liked that the devil wasn’t evil so much as just tired. But ultimately, this movie felt a little too cold for me.

Magic Mike: XXL (2015)  I have no idea why every critic on the planet seems to love this movie. Strippers aggressively thrusting their crotch in your face is not sexy, it’s uncomfortable!

A Silent Voice (2016)  Melodramatic and not in the fun, over-the-top way.

Vonarstræti (2014) It’s good but it’s just not for me.

Wir Monster (2015) I saw this at a Q&A screening and decided I didn’t wanna stick around after the credits rolled. On my way out, I tripped and almost fell onto the actors as they were walking past me. That experience had a way bigger impact on me than the movie itself. Make of that what you will.

Guilty Pleasures/So Bad They’re Good An enjoyably bad movie is a better watch than a middlingly competent one.

#REALITYHIGH (2017)  Incredibly clichéd and tries way too hard to be “hip” or “lit” or whatever it is the kids were saying back in 2017. Don’t care, I’ve seen it four times. 

Bridget Jones’s Baby (2016) The first Bridget Jones is a highlight of the genre. The second one is just bad but the third tips over into enjoyably bad. I also loved having Renée Zellweger back on my screen!

A Cinderella Story: Christmas Wish (2019) Recently watched this with my sister while baking and wrapping Christmas presents. It’s a terrible movie but we had fun (mostly by making fun of it).

Descendants (2015), Descendants 2 (2017), Descendants 3 (2019) I’m not apologizing for this even though I feel like I kind of should. 

The Kissing Booth (2018) This movie is like a 13-year-old’s first fanfic come to life so of course I’m gonna love it. Even if the love interest is incredibly unappealing.

The Twilight Saga: Eclipse (2010), The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn - Part 1 (2011), The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn - Part 2 (2012) Who would’ve thought at the start of the decade that Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson would turn into indie darlings starring in one critically acclaimed film after the next? I love that for them.

Oscar Bait but I’m Not Biting Not sure the Oscars weren’t a mistake tbh.

The Artist (2011) I kind of enjoyed this but ultimately it’s watered-down Hollywood history made appealing to modern audiences and its aim is far higher than its reach.

Birdman (2014) It was a fun watch but it left no impression.

Darkest Hour (2017) Technically a good movie but such obvious Oscar bait I just couldn’t fully enjoy it.

The Help (2011) Let’s leave the white savior narrative behind in the 2010s, shall we?

The King’s Speech (2010) I love Colin Firth. I barely remember this movie.

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (2017)  Don’t love that the racist cop is the most fully fleshed-out character in this movie while the black characters are all unnamed extras.   

Whiplash (2014) It’s just drumming, J.K. Simmons, it’s not that serious. 

I Feel Like I Should Like This More This category is mostly three camps, as you’ll see. 

120 battements par minute (2017), 69 Minutes of 86 Days (2017),  Fire at Sea (2016),  I, Daniel Blake (2016) All important movies with a worthy message that I just couldn’t connect with on a personal level.

Adieu au langage (2014), Before We Vanish (2017), Bridesmaids (2011), Jagten (2012),  A Separation (2011), Timbuktu (2014), Transit (2018), Winter’s Bone (2010) Critically acclaimed, maybe it’s just me?

Her (2013) The rest is all movies I expected to like more than I did. I’m not sure what didn’t click with this one. It’s been a while since I saw it.

Get Out (2017) I wasn’t gonna watch it because I don’t really watch horror so when I finally caved, I knew pretty much everything about it. Watching a movie the first time  knowing everything that happens in it and after seeing it dissected for months on end by every critic on the planet does take a lot of the enjoyment away, as it turns out.

Gone Girl (2014) Really thought I’d love it. It’s good just didn’t click with me.

The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014)  It’s pretty. Liam Neeson is always fun. 

Pacific Rim (2013)  Mako is great and I enjoy the chemistry between her and Raleigh but ultimately this one just kind of slipped out of my mind as soon as I’d seen it. 

Toni Erdmann (2016)  It’s too damn long!

The Tree of Life (2011)  I just watched this the other day so it’s very possible my opinion will change. I was expecting to love it but I… didn’t. It felt like this movie was trying too hard to be profound and important, at the cost of actually saying something, well, profound and important.

No Strong Feelings One Way or the Other I actually have nothing to say about any of these movies and most of them are good but they had to go somewhere.

The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (2011), Boyhood (2014), Brave (2012), Creed (2015), Django Unchained (2012), Exit Through the Gift Shop (2010), Flavours of Youth (2018), Frozen (2013), The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey (2012), Interstellar (2014), Intouchable (2011), The Jungle Book (2016), Monsters University (2013), Rogue One (2016), Schaste moe (2010), Shutter Island (2010), Three Identical Strangers (2018), To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018), Undir trénu (2017), Wreck-It Ralph (2012)

Middling Festival Fare I have nothing to say about these either but I couldn’t lump them in with the others. I mostly liked them more than the movies in the previous category and they took bigger risks. Some of them might even be great, just very much not my cup of tea.

3 Tage in Quiberon (2018), Acid Forest (2018), Amateurs in Space (2016), Barakah Meets Barakah (2015), Der Andständige (2014), Disappearance (2017), Dreams by the Sea (2017), En fremmed flytter ind (2017), Føniks (2018), The Girl Down Loch Aenzi (2016), God Exists, Her Name is Petrunija (2019), Gods of Molenbeek (2019), Jag är Ingrid (2015), Já, Olga Hepnarová (2016), Looking for Oum Kulthum (2017), Mister Universo (2016), Neruda (2016), The Raven and the Seagull (2018), Rester vertical (2016), Slow West (2015), Sugar Coated (2015), Summer Survivors (2018), Tickled (2016), Worldly Girl (2016)

Maybe Not the Best But a Lot of Fun Better than those guilty pleasures but generally pretty flawed. Austenland (2013) A very cute little romcom. Extra points for Jennifer Coolidge, the most underrated character actress of this century.

Baby Driver (2017) I feel like revisiting this one might not be as enjoyable for reasons that have nothing to do with the film’s quality but I had fun watching it in the theater. 

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1 (2010) I was a fan of this franchise from the start so even though this movie is kind of dour and dark, it was still a blast to watch. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2 (2011) Do I love every choice this movie made? No. But I saw this at a midnight screening, in full cosplay with my friends, in a theater packed with fans. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

I, Tonya (2017)  For a movie that contains so much abuse and such a bummer ending, it’s surprisingly entertaining!

The LEGO Batman Movie (2017)    Lego Batman is my favorite Batman.

Nothing Like a Dame (2018)  I just really love Maggie Smith.

On - drakon (2015) This movie feels like it was pitched as “Twilight but with dragons!”. It’s fun, though, and it’s got an interesting aesthetic and a proactive heroine who gets herself out of trouble with ingenuity and bravery.

Sing Street (2016) I love the soundtrack to this movie and the characters are incredibly endearing. The story is very simple in not a great way but it doesn’t need to be deep to be enjoyable.

Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017) I like that they skip the origin story for once and keep the scope of it fairly limited. A very nice little slice-of-life teen movie combined with a superhero flick. Tom Holland is a good Spider-Man. Would’ve been better without Iron Man tbh. Star Trek Beyond (2016)  I feel like they got the characters right here, which was a problem for the first Star Trek of the rebooted trilogy. It’s a fairly inconsequential movie but it’s a blast.

Star Wars: Episode VII - The Force Awakens (2015) I’m not the biggest Star Wars fan so I don’t have a lot of opinions here. It’s fun! Not a lot more I want from Star Wars. Ultimately didn’t intrigue me enough to wanna see the rest of the trilogy.

Ten no Chasuke (2015) This movie is a little weird, a little goofy and a lot of fun. I like the guy who just constantly lives through different movie plots because the angel writing his life can’t think of anything original, that tickled me.

Good Movies I Don’t Have a Clever Title Here They’re good movies, Brent. 

Barbara Rubin and the Exploding NY Underground (2018)  An enjoyable, well-made documentary but considering its subject matter disappointingly conventional.

Black Panther (2018) This movie could have been much better had it not been under the constraints of the MCU. Still one of the best offerings of the genre this decade.

Boy Meets Girl (2014) We need more movies like this. Not just for representation (although that is important) but also because cinema needs a greater variety of stories than are currently being told. 

Brooklyn (2015) The scope of this movie is very small but the characterization is nuanced and every aspect of the film goes towards furthering that. 

Bugs (2016) The focus of this movie is split between its very interesting subject matter (the use of bugs as food around the world) and the chefs we’re following around who kind of seem like dicks and honestly drag the movie down a lot.

Captain America: The First Avenger (2011)  Steve Rogers is one of my favorite MCU characters, purely on the strength of this movie. In a world where no one seems to know how to adapt Superman to film, it’s nice they got this one right.

Cloud Atlas (2012) This movie has such lofty ambitions and I admire it for that, even if the execution is off at times. But the use of yellowface is..... bad. It’s very bad and the directors should have known better. 

Cold War (2018) I love the music in this, which is good because it is near constant.

Damsel (2018) I love a deconstructed western and I love Robert Pattinson. It’s a shame that the female character at the center of the story wasn’t better developed, considering how much screen time she got.

Damsels in Distress (2011) This movie is quirky and cutesie, which isn’t everyone’s cup of tea (and usually isn’t mine) but I love it. Some solid acting goes a long way.

Der kommer en dag (2016) This movie is two hours of children suffering yet it comes across as so optimistic? I think it’s the space race stuff. Who doesn’t love the space race?

Frantz (2016) I am always down for stories that reckon with the effects of WWI. 

Future Baby (2016) There’s a scene in this movie where a surrogate mother gives birth and it is both very graphic and heart-wrenching. If the rest of the movie were more like that one scene, it’d be on my shortlist for the best of the decade.

Fyre (2019)  How was Fyre Festival a real thing that happened?

Girls Don’t Fly (2016) Girls don’t fly because the man training them to be pilots is a dick and treats them horribly. It’s a bummer but important to uncover. 

Hidden Figures (2016) Kevin Costner’s character needed to be written out - black stories that don’t involve “good” white people are both possible and necessary. But I adore all three main actresses and they do some amazing work.

Hjartasteinn (2016) The subject matter is cliché but it’s handled beautifully. 

The Lego Movie (2014) Everything is awesome! Everything is cool when you’re part of a team!

Journey to the Shore (2015) I honestly wasn’t sure how to feel for most of the run time of this movie but by the end it got me.

On Body and Soul (2017) This movie feels like a dream and I mean that in a good way.

The Salvation (2014) Have I mentioned that I love deconstructed westerns? Mads Mikkelsen is always on point, even with garbage material, but he’s got some good stuff to work with here.

Searching for Ingmar Bergman (2018) This movie made me more interested in its director, Margarethe von Trotta, than Bergman himself. Everyone should check out The Lost Honour of Katharina Blum!

The Shape of Water (2017) This movie is very much like a fairy-tale, which means it’s not particularly nuanced or complicated, but it is beautiful.

Still the Water (2014)  This movie starts with a cow being graphically slaughtered and yet the only word I can think of to describe it is “gentle”. But maybe skip the first five minutes if you’re sensitive to blood or animal death.

Studio 54 (2018) How were the 70s even real?

Sumarbörn (2017)    It’s a rare feat to get such good acting out of child actors.

Thor: Ragnarök (2017)    The best MCU movie. It’s a lot of fun without once losing its heart, which is a rare thing for Marvel (just google the words “bathos” and “mcu”, other people have covered this already). 

Warm Bodies (2013) The cutest rom-com of the decade features a zombie as its main lead. I’m not mad about it.

Wild Tales (2014) The dissonance between the realist shooting style and the cartoonish violence often results in some excellent dark humor. The rest of the time, it just feels kind of off. 

The Wolf of Wall Street (2013) Jordan Belfast is both a lot of fun and utterly despicable and the movie is not afraid to go as balls to the walls as it needs to.

The Young Karl Marx (2017) So like... Marx and Engel were into each other? At least a little, right?

Great Movies Also No Clever Title

Andið eðlilega (2018) Okay so I don’t watch a lot of Icelandic cinema but from what I have seen, I am incredibly encouraged by the direction it is heading. Call this exhibit A.

Ága (2018)  This movie is very slow and not a lot happens but that’s kind of why it works so well. It hooked me in and had me genuinely interested in every uneventful scene.

Brecht’s Threepenny Film (2018)  I walked away feeling like I’d understood maybe one third of this film but it left me with a feeling of exhilaration that’s hard to define and that few films manage.

Les aventures extraordinaires d'Adèle Blanc-Sec (2010)  Adèle Blanc-Sec is like Tintin and Indiana Jones combined except way better. In a just world, she would be a much more popular character and the reported film trilogy would have actually happened.

En duva satt på en gren och funderade på tillvaron (2014)  This movie is delightfully weird and messed up. Nothing more to say here.

The Favourite (2018)  I was honestly expecting to be let down by this movie after all the overwhelming praise but as it turns out, it deserved all of the accolades and possibly more.

Gravity (2013)  This movie was kind of marketed as “realistic sci-fi” and while I can’t say it felt particularly real, the emotional arc sure as hell did.

Inception (2010) The complexity of this film was vastly over-hyped but it’s still the best work I’ve seen by Nolan (though to be fair, I still haven’t seen Dunkirk).  Kreuzweg (2014) The film is composed of just fourteen still shots, representing the Stations of the Cross. That could have come across as really gimmicky but it works because the shots are well staged and the material is just that good. Loveless (2017) This is the bleakest, most depressing movie I think I’ve ever seen.  The Martian (2015)  The best thing about this movie is the way it shows the world coming together just to save this one guy. International cooperation is the future!

Paradies: Liebe (2012)  This is a movie about sex tourism and it is as unpleasant to watch as that sounds. But it’s also incredible. 

Paradies: Hoffnung (2013)  The third in Seidl’s paradise trilogy (I missed the middle part, don’t remember why). Just as messed up as Liebe but mildly more palatable.

Une nouvelle amie (2014)  I saw this movie with my dad, which was kind of awkward, but that doesn’t take away from its beauty. We really do need more stories like this.

Tale of Tales (2015)  I am always here for a fairytale adaptation, particularly ones that stick close to the dark, gruesome, humorous tone of most traditional fairytales. 

Welcome to Norway (2016)  This movie is just really, really funny.

White God (2014) If you’re sensitive to animal abuse then this is not the film for you. The dogs in this movie actually won the Palm Dog Award and it was well deserved. They’re very good dogs! Tom of Finland (2017) How refreshing to see a movie about a historical gay person that isn’t all death and tragedy! It does have some of that, unavoidably, but it’s also a lot of fun and ultimately is a celebration of a very important sub-cultural figure.

Vinterbrødre (2017) I wasn’t expecting a movie set in a mining community to look this beautiful. 

Wonder Woman (2017) The best superhero movie of the decade, despite the slightly messy third act. It’s such an earnest, hopeful movie and unlike most films of the genre, it’s not afraid to take itself seriously or to come across as cheesy. Superheroes are cheesy! That’s one of the best things about them!

Amazing Animation I don’t like animation being singled out from live action as if it’s somehow less, but I wanted to highlight how many excellent animated films were made this decade. 

The Breadwinner (2017) I’ve seen this film’s production company, Cartoon Saloon, been called the Irish version of Disney but Disney has never made anything half this daring. Coco (2017)  The ending made me sob like a little kid. This movie doesn’t get enough credit for being one of only two Pixar films this decade to live up to their early work.

How to Train Your Dragon (2010) The flight scenes in this movie gave me actual vertigo and I loved it.

How to Train Your Dragon 2 (2014)  The rare sequel that’s actually better than the original! For all the franchises that exist out there just to continue milking that cash cow, it’s nice to see something get continued because the filmmakers had more stories to tell.

Loving Vincent (2017)  This movie has been criticized for a weak plot, to which I say: it’s an animated movie made up of oil paintings! Do you really care about the plot? Sometimes the spectacle is all you need, especially when it’s something that touches you as deeply as Vincent van Gogh’s art does.

Moana (2016)  Moana’s scenes with her grandmother and Te Fiti are up there with some of the most emotionally evocative stuff to come out of Disney studios. It’s a pity the rest of the movie couldn’t quite live up to that.

Rise of the Guardians (2012)  Mostly, this movie just looks incredible. I am also an eternal sucker for Chris Pine, even if his voice sounds weird coming out of a teenager’s mouth.  

Song of the Sea (2014)  This is the most beautiful animated film I’ve ever seen outside of Studio Ghibli’s best, both the look and the feel of it. 

Tangled (2010) I know I sound like an old fogy but this movie would’ve been much better if it had been traditionally animated. Still pretty good!

Toy Story 3 (2010) It’s been nine years since the third Toy Story came out?? Christ, this decade.

Your Name (2016) I really should be watching more anime.

Zootopia (2016) Disney’s best work since Treasure Planet, which is an underrated masterpiece. It’s almost worth the resurgence in furries (jk furries, you’re okay).

This Is Why You Guys Should Be Watching Documentaries Because documentaries are a seriously underrated art form.

Ama-San (2016) This is the kind of cinema vérité filmmaking I live for.

Behind the Curve (2018) The existence of flat earthers remains baffling (well, maybe not that baffling when you look at the rest of our society) but this documentary is excellent.

Dawson City: Frozen Time (2016)  This is a documentary about a cache of lost silent films that were found in the 70s and most of the movie is silent, with information being conveyed through text and images. It’s these kinds of choices that elevate a good documentary beyond just educational programming.

Exodus: Where I Come From Is Disappearing (2016)  Absolutely heart-wrenching. It’s difficult to watch but the issues it discusses shouldn’t be looked away from. 

Foodies (2014) There’s a foodie in this movie who rates his food on looks before he even tastes it and a chef whose signature dish is a dessert called “sex on the beach” which includes a very realistic-looking used condom. I wanted those two to meet but they never did and that is my one criticism of this film.

Free Solo (2018)  I developed a fear of heights after watching this movie.

The Great Green Wall (2019)  I had never heard of the great green wall before seeing this movie. It’s so surreal to get a window into a society where no one is arguing about climate change because they are already undeniably feeling the effects of it. And by strange, I mean incredibly sad and upsetting.

How to Let Go of the World: and Love All the Things Climate Can’t Change (2016)  Speaking of climate change. This movie takes on climate grief and shows why you can’t stop at that, why you need to push past it and keep fighting. I’d argue The Great Green Wall actually does that same thing and better but it’s still a very necessary message.

Into the Inferno (2016)  Werner Herzog is just. The best. Especially his documentaries.

Kismet (2014) This movie examines how art affects people by way of one of the least respected art forms out there (soap operas). I just really love that premise and the execution is even better.

Merchants of Doubt (2014) Honestly fuck every single person making money by hastening our descent towards climate catastrophe. Good movie, though.

My Scientology Movie (2015)  This was the first Louis Theroux movie I saw and it’s a great one to start with. For all they’ve been treated like a joke, Scientologists are actually pretty scary.

The Other Side of Everything (2017)  The personal is the political in this film. What an incredible look at the ways our past shapes our present and future. 

Pervert Park (2014) This movie fucked me up.

The Prison in Twelve Landscapes (2016) The conceit of this film is looking at the US prison system indirectly by keeping the camera outside the actual prisons and off actual prisoners. It works incredibly well, just astounding documentary film making. 

Push (2019)  Just when you thought you couldn’t hate the rental market any more!

Safari (2016) Fuck trophy hunters.

The Silence of Others (2018)  I didn’t even know about the Spanish 1977 Amnesty Law until I saw this movie. Maybe that’s just my own ignorance but I feel it shows how necessary documentaries like these are. 

Tower (2016) I cried like a baby watching this movie. Using rotoscope animation to tell the story of the 1966 shootings a the University of Texas was I think an excellent choice and made for a unique documentary.

Visages villages (2017) Agnès Varda is possibly my favorite director and it hurts to leave this one off the “best” list (call it an unofficial #11). Still not sure I shouldn’t have swapped out one of the actual top ten for it. 

Welcome to Sodom (2018) The world is so fucked up. 

It Stayed With Me Movies that left me reeling and that I couldn’t get out of my head for days after watching (call all of them an unofficial joint #12).

The Act of Killing (2012) Speaking of fucked up! It is absolutely surreal seeing these mass murderers try to justify their actions to the interviewers. “I was just doing my job” is no excuse and trying to use it as one is actually reprehensible. 

Arrival (2016) I didn’t actually see it until this year and I felt it couldn’t possibly live up to the hype but it did! It’s reminiscent of Interstellar in that in this ‘hard’ science fiction story the ultimate solution is based on an emotional revelation but Arrival pulled it off much better. The Congress (2013)  This is basically two movies in one; one is fairly grounded sci-fi and the other is just a straight up acid trip in film form. In any case, Robin Wright is absolutely flawless.

Carol (2015) Cate Blanchett please date me. Grüße aus Fukushima (2016)  I’m always gonna be a sucker for a movie about women connecting and helping each other through trauma. 

High Life (2018) I saw this one knowing nothing about it and ngl it shocked me a bit. The way it incrementally got more and more fucked up made me feel a bit like a frog being slowly boiled alive.  November (2017) The atmosphere this movie creates is unreal. Maybe not the strongest characterization but it balances a feeling of magic and wonder with just utter bleakness and it left me reeling. Paterson (2016) I can’t even fully explain why I loved this movie so much or why it stuck me. Mostly, it’s just so damn cozy.  The Square (2017) I mean, that scene with the ape man was fucked up right?  Tangerine (2015) I don’t think filming on your iPhone is the future of cinema or anything but it does show how accessible filmmaking is slowly becoming. Also, that scene of Alexandra performing Toyland is one of the best musical moments in cinema this decade and that is not up for debate. Team Hurricane (2017) I’ve never seen a movie with an aesthetic like this before (it’s very vaporwave) but this film is about and was mostly shot by a group of actual teenage girls. It’s a little melodramatic in places but at the same time that feels very sincere and the girls all clearly have a lot of talent and a lot to say.  Varda par Agnes (2019) This movie probably wouldn’t have stuck with me so much if Agnès Varda hadn’t died earlier this year. She is a truly unparalleled figure in film history.

The Best According to me, anyway. But I’m right.

Cameraperson (2016) This is a different kind of documentary filmmaking. What it most reminds me of is Beaches of Agnès (no, I’m never done talking about Agnès Varda) but even that is not a perfect comparison. It’s deeply personal while also covering an insane variety of topics.  Embrace of the Serpent (2015) This movie feels like a dream and I mean that in the best way possible. At turns beautiful, brutal, and absolutely baffling. The Florida Project (2017) I’ve seen this movie criticized for glorifying poverty and I can’t discount that opinion. For my part, I thought this movie did an incredible job balancing the world as seen through the eyes of a carefree child enjoying her summer and the dangerous, precarious reality of living in poverty.  Inside Out (2015) When Pixar gets it right, they get it really right. The Love Witch (2016) I just really, really love witches. The best looking live action movie of the decade. The fact that writer/director/editor/producer Anna Biller hasn’t made another film since is an actual crime.  Melancholia (2011) No movie has ever hit me this hard in such a visceral way; I was miserable for days after seeing it. Lars von Trier is an asshole but he knows how to film depression.  Mad Max: Fury Road (2015) Believe the hype, it is actually perfect. And I don’t even like action movies! Moonlight (2016) It’s rare to see a movie this deeply, devastatingly human. The final two shots of the film, paired together, are literally the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in a theater. Kona fer í stríð (2018) The best Icelandic movie that’s been made yet. Halldóra Geirharðsdóttir is a national treasure.  Shoplifters (2018) I mean, who’s expecting a movie called ‘Shoplifters’ to be so devastating? It’s such a painful film but it is also heartwarming and intimate.  Un couteau dans le coeur (2018) This movie is strange and funny and violent and gorgeous. I’ve never had such a good experience at a film festival as I did the two times I went to see this movie.

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

Secret-Diary Recommends Some Music

I’m not exactly a ‘music person’, in that I don’t know a lot about the mechanics that underpin it: I couldn’t look at sheet music and tell you what the tune is or describe the change in chords in a classical piece. I’m not even 100% sure what the difference between a Ukulele and a Banjo is, aside from the fact that one is played by coquettish islanders while I get shit-faced on Pina Colladas in the background and the other is played by Louisiana bootleggers from the 1920s with comedy accents. All that being said, I know enough to know that the overwhelming preponderance of music produced today is total crap. Every time I’m foolish enough to tune a radio to a musical station, there’s a new barely-pubescent twatwipe peeping about their feelings in a tupperware voice that strongly suggests they don’t actually have any. Either that or its some nominally grown-ass man or woman singing something that they imagine is sassy and empowering but actually just makes them sound like Gary from World’s End- only less charming, because immature, quasi-literate manbabies are infinitely more annoying when they’re real. The point is, it’s a fucking wasteland out there. Trying to find a band (from now or the past) who you’d actually want to listen to can be a chore. That’s why, as your gracious patron and benefactor, I’ve decided to share the fruits of my musical explorations with you and hit you with some recommendations. I’ve tried to be as eclectic as possible, since I want everyone who reads this to find something they’ll like, no matter how radically divergent their individual tastes are. Some of the entries on this list are famous, some are obscure and some were famous but have been made obscure by the passage of time. I’ve tried to limit myself to people whose music you might not be fully aware of, even if you’ve heard of them to some extent, but I’m not plugged into what is and isn’t popular with peeps nowadays, so don’t read too much into my choices if they seem either too obvious or too bizarre. Here goes.

1. The Orion Experience An ultra-camp synthesis of New Romantic music, bubble-gum pop and modern vocal stylings, The Orion Experience are unlike anything else you’ll have heard recently. They seem to borrow as much from the original Decadent tradition in art and literature as from later musical iterations, meaning that their lyrics are complex and sophisticated without being especially deep. They’re primarily concerned with building aesthetically-interesting and richly-evocative language-constructs rather than performing an emotion that no-one in the band is actually feeling. The deliberate artifice is deeply refreshing in a musical landscape of faked sincerity and forced emoting. I recommend starting with the songs The Cult of Dionysus and Sugar. If you like those, the rest of their stuff may also interest you.

2. Trace Adkins During an attempt to write a wild west/sci-fi fusion novel, I went on a musical odyssey, looking for apposite songs that would gel well with the world I was building (knowing a world’s soundtrack can help cement that world in your imagination- try it, if you’re a writer yourself). Anyway, I stumbled across Trace Adkins- a country singer with a palpable sense of humour about being a country singer and a knack for delivering a silly-but-well-turned phrase. Also, without getting technical, his tunes just flat-out rock. I have no idea how well known he in the Country and Western World, but since his existence came as news to me, I’m sticking him on this list. Start with the surprisingly sexy Honky Tonk Badonkadonk and graduate to Hot Momma and Whoop a Man’s Ass. You’ll know if it’s your sort of thing from the first minute of any of those songs.

3. Caravan Palace Have ye heard of a thing called Electric Swing? If you’re reading a blog post about music, you probably have, but just in case you haven’t, let me tell you it’s a fantastic genre. Imagine if The Great Gatsby owned a synth and took a fuckload of mind-squanching hallucinogens. Well, that’s Electric Swing. Few do it better than Caravan Palace, who also seem to borrow heavily from club music and other genres, adding these to their unique blend. For some pure Electric Swing, start with Susie. For something a little more modern, start with Lone Digger.

4. 11 Acorn Lane Speaking of Electric Swing, I can also recommend 11 Acorn Lane, whose lyrics can be a little more playful than those of Caravan Palace. They also have a somewhat more classic sound. Start with Let’s Face it I’m Cute for a great sample of their work.

5. The Fratellis Now, my UK readers have almost certainly heard of The Fratellis, since they actually got some traction on mainstream radio over here. I’m less sure about those of you reading along in America, so allow me to make an introduction. Their music is joyously and unapologetically grimy and proletarian, paring an unrivaled sense of fun and energy with a sly, low-key feeling of cynicism and detachment. The tunes and melodies evoke Rock, punk and New-Wave (think The Ramones by way of The Proclaimers) without wholly relying on any of them. Check out Chelsea Dagger or Henrietta to hear them at their most gleefully up-tempo-yet-jaded, or try Vince the Lovable Stoner for a more chill, tongue-in-cheek song.

5. Dionne Warwick You’ve probably heard of her in connection with There’s Always Something There to Remind Me, especially since it featured heavily in that one fantastic episode of Black Mirror. However, you might not have realised just how much she’s contributed to musical history: her soft-yet-powerful voice and classic Rock rhythms and tunes combine to create something archetypal yet unique. Leap right in with Do You Know the Way to San Jose and discover a fucking legend.

6. Rufus Rex Ever wanted to hear a freakishly talented man singing songs based on horror films and books (particularly the works of H.P. Lovecraft) in a style that evokes Goth music but defies genre on closer inspection? Then get your arse over to Rufus Rex and start plumbing the nightmarish depths of horror-music with the song World’s In Between.

7. Studio Killers Contemporary electronic music with surprisingly inventive and weird lyrics. That about sums up Studio Killers, really. Look, not everything on this list can be genre-transcendent or epoch-defining: some things are just very good examples of the type of music they belong to. If you haven’t heard of them, start with the song Eros and Apollo then check out Ode to the Bouncer, then compare and contrast: those two songs represent the two opposite edges of the musical spectrum they cover, so if you like either one, at least some of their songs will be for you. Also, treat yourself to the music videos on Youtube: they’re surreal and awsesome.

8. Fishbone A punky ska band from back in the day, Fishbone are on this list for one reason and one reason only: Party at Ground Zero. Party at Ground Zero is an upbeat, gloriously energetic song about nuclear war. It’s a total jam and you absolutely have to experience it for yourself.

9. Tomska Tomska... isn’t technically a professional musician. He’s a Youtube comedian, short-film maker and collaborative animator who became internet-famous for his ‘ASDF movies’. On the off-chance that you haven’t seen them, they’re short collections of animated skits and jokes rendered in a simple but immediately-compelling and recognisable style. Anyway, Tomska decided to create fast-paced, catchy songs about some of the recurring characters in his ASDF movies, and those songs turned out to be fucking amazing- being both laugh-out-loud funny and actually really musically ambitious and well put together. Check them out on his channel. I’m particularly fond of Mine Turtles, but you do you.

10. Paul Anka Big band and jazz musician Paul Anka once set out on a quest to create 1920s-sounding versions of famous rock ‘n’ roll songs and the results can only be described as ‘eargasmically epic’. His versions of Jump and Eye of the Tiger are, frankly, better than the originals.

Right, that’s everything I can thing of for now. I’m going to go make myself a big sandwich. By the time your read this, I’ll be settling down with two-slices of bread, some cheese and an unreasonably large amount of cranberry sauce. All the songs and bands in today’s entry are on Youtube, so go have a nosy. Until next time, peace out and fuck off!

[douxreviews]

The Great Gatsby (2013) Review

“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

This review proved nearly impossible to write because, the more I thought about The Great Gatsby, the more I felt I watched two films. The first tottered on the line between lush and garish while delighting me with its soundtrack and making me dizzy with its cinematography. The second was a beautiful and faithful retelling of a beloved novel featuring a truly, truly talented cast. (This review assumes you have read the book, all the way to the to the end, but not seen the movie.)

The first part of the film (until Gatsby and Daisy first come face to face) is a bit of a self-indulgent mess. I’m not kidding when I say it’s mostly CGI-assisted crane shots. The first few were beautiful, but it got old. Quickly. It also quite literally made me dizzy (and I wasn’t even watching in 3D!).

I read some reviews for the film before I saw the movie and one kept continually echoing in my head for the first half of the movie, “Yes, this is exactly what I would expect a Baz Luhrmann ‘Gatsby’ would look like” (Drew McWeeny). It was vibrant, it was loud, it oozed excitement, but I’ve seen it all before. Luhrmann’s style hasn’t evolved since Moulin Rouge. Excepting the different costumes, the party scene footage might have been swept off of that cutting room floor a dozen years ago. When Moulin Rouge hit, Luhrmann’s aesthetic was fresh and edgy. Now it’s a bit tiring.

The movie excelled where Luhrmann’s sense of spectacle was most minimal. The emotional scenes were fantastic. Had the director only managed to curb his Luhrmann-ness, the film might have been an Oscar contender. Unfortunately, understatement is not the man’s strong suit.

Sunbunny acting stars for every single member of the cast. DiCaprio’s Gatsby was even better than the Gatsby I imagine while reading, Tobey Maguire was flawless as Nick, and Carey Mulligan did the impossible by making Daisy Buchanan sympathetic. Newcomer Elizabeth Debicki (this is her SECOND movie role!) brought to life Jordan Baker, a character I have never really been able to get a handle on. Joel Edgerton played the stereotypical brute nicely, adding a bit of humanity to the nearly irredeemable Tom.

I really cannot say enough about the acting in this film, and about Leonardo DiCaprio in particular. Gatsby is a difficult character because the ‘real him’ is wrapped in layers of lies and affectations. DiCaprio shone in the role. I can’t say why, but in the book Gatsby’s death never really bothered me. Nick’s determination to find Gatsby just one mourner always depresses me, but his death itself never really registered. Gatsby is such a super human character, I could never really relate to him. Not so in the film. I fretted for most of the movie, waiting for his inevitable tragic death. In fact, his movie death might even be more tragic than his book death. The look on his face just broke my heart.

Carey Mulligan, as I said before, actually makes the eminently hatable Daisy Buchanan a (slightly) sympathetic character. The scene the morning of her wedding very nearly drove me to tears and I’ve spent nearly a decade despising her. They didn’t change her part in the plot and she still ends up (as Nick puts it) “smash[ing] up things and creatures,” but I did not at any point of the film wish horrible physical violence to be visited upon her. If only I could say the same of Mia Farrow’s “performance” in the 1974 version.

The movie adheres to the book almost exactly. The few changes that are made are, I think, for the better. More focus is given to Gatsby’s business dealings, which I find fitting for the economic realities of today. The relationship between Jordan and Nick is removed almost completely, but I didn’t miss it. It always seemed superfluous to the main love story. Luhrmann incorporates much of Fitzgerald’s narration brilliantly and to great effect. How he does it (no spoilers) surprised me, but makes perfect sense. It was a nice, non-intrusive addition to the literary classic. Gatsby and Daisy’s relationship is more detailed and much more romantic than in the book. This is fitting because the book’s format is confined to Nick’s point of view, whereas the movie very occasionally deviates from underneath Mr. Carraway’s watchful eyes.

A number of the reviews I read claimed that Fitzgerald’s message was lost in the glitter, but I disagree. Nothing will ever communicate the empty, forlorn feeling as well as the book (it’s Fitzgerald’s specialty), but Luhrmann does a creditable job. The scene where Nick walks through Gatsby’s mansion, now empty, cold, and being reclaimed by nature was breathtaking.

Bits and Pieces:

I think Hollywood should have a CGI-aholics Anonymous.

I always pictured Gatsby’s mansion as being a little less gauche.

I’ve heard several people fault DiCaprio’s delivery of Gatsby’s favorite phase, “old sport.” The only way it’s possible to say that phrase and not sound stupid is to be Thurston Howell III.

I wonder if Leonardo DiCaprio is tired of dying in water. I would be.

The soundtrack to the film is very lovely and very Baz Luhrmann. My favorite song off of it is Lana Del Rey’s hauntingly beautiful “Young and Beautiful,” which is used several times in the movie.

Maybe I’m overly sensitive to this sort of thing, but I caught quite a few continuity errors and several times where the audio was not synched properly.

Tiffany & Co. custom designed many of the pieces worn by Daisy and Jordan. They are available for purchase and I would be happy with any of them, particularly this ring.

Final verdict: go see it. While the early scenes might prove to be a bit of an endurance test, the finely wrought performances of the extraordinary cast will make it worth your time, I promise.

three and a half out of four green lights

sunbunny

[silver-falling-star]

Sing me a song, o muse, of your bitter hatred against catcher in the rye bc SAME

Oooooh boy, I smell one of my long winded rants coming on. Strap in folks its about to be a wild ride.

So, Ima preface this by saying that I have NOT read it since I was forced to read it in 11th grade. For like, several fucking reasons. (the primary one being that I don’t want to, the 2nd one being I don’t know which bookshelf my dad stashed my copy on. He stashed all my required readings on various bookshelves after I was done with them. Because we were all given copies for free by the teachers that we were allowed to keep. I’ll chalk this up to private school benefits I guess? I’ve been out of the public school circuit since the end of 5th grade) So basically my memory of like, most of the events that take place in the book are foggy at best and unremembered at worst.

@ my mutuals and followers who like this book, that’s fine you do you, but I personally am not and probably will never be a fan of Catcher in the Rye. My feelings of why I dislike it are my opinions and I’m not gonna force them on you.

Problem 1: Main character is an unsympathetic asshole

My biggest gripe about the book is honestly a gripe I have about SEVERAL books. Unlikable characters, and I don’t necessarily mean written poorly (though I don’t remember being awed by how the book was written, I’ll be honest.) I mean unsympathetic asshole little bastards that make you want to just chuck the book across the room. Other books that share this problem are The Great Gatsby (that book is hot fucking garbage in terms of likeable characters and I WILL die on that fucking hill do not even @ me), Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie (Main character is an asshole little snobby bitch and despite being a murder mystery written in first person she literally figures things out at such a pace its not fun for the reader because she STILL ends up caught in shit situations she KNEW WAS GOING TO GO DOWN BECAUSE SHES SUCH A SPECIAL LITTLE SHIT- okay that’s a rant for a different post) and The King Must Die. (If you ever want to read a book with shit diction, pick it up.)

Now, as a writer/roleplayer of almost a decade, I’ve made plenty of characters that fall into the unsympathetic asshole role. My problem isn’t with the archetype, it’s often used and often done well (fandoms later trying to apologize for them aside) My PROBLEM comes when that’s either the archetype for the only character given any spotlight, or ALL the characters have that problem. (see, Great Gatsby.) Holden Caulfield(or however the fuck you spell it) is an unsympathetic asshole, and also the character who’s perspective is the only one we get to see, and the only character we really know much about. (Mainly cause he just doesn’t deign to care to give a legitimate effort in giving a damn about anyone else aside from how innocent children/his sister are. More on how creepy that shit is later.) Making a book like this means that I’m far less likely to enjoy it because I want to be able to root for someone. I can root for an asshole, so long as they’re likeable in some regard. Holden is a grade A fuckboy in the making and as such I am not a fan.

TL/DR: It’s possible to have likeable unsympathetic asshole characters, it is almost impossible to do that if that’s all you have exposure too in your cast.

Problem 2: I was really not in the best place to receive such a fucking depresso espresso lesson about life.

Switching gears momentarily from problems with the writing/book itself to problems with the timing of this book showing up in my life. High school was the time when all my trauma I’d successfully… repressed? Avoided dealing with? whatever, basically all my mental health shit suddenly decided to spring itself on me and yell “SURPRISE, YOU’RE MENTALLY FUCKED AND WILL NEVER BE THE SAME!” in 10th grade and it wasn’t until halfway through 11th grade that I even started getting a handle on shit. I almost failed high school and it was *bad*, especially for someone who was just trying to get to college so I could get to vet school and be qualified for a job that requires an ass load of education. So in walks this fucking book and it’s message of “adulthood is a sham, nothing matters and you really should just fuck around and do whatever because it’s all bullshit anyway. Childhood was where it’s at.”

Like???? Alright, that’s not what I need to hear when I’m barely passing high school. Go to fucking therapy and get some help, we all have trauma and therapy is the best path to work through it. I dunno like, yeah okay some people need to hear that message at whatever time in their life they read the book, but that message really wasn’t great to my Anxiety/Depression/ADHD struggling ass trying to just stay steady enough to get into college.

Honestly, even to this day I HATE HATE HATE books with depressing messages like that. I already deal with the struggle of being afraid of failure, getting where I want to be, all that shit. I don’t want that in my literature. Give me a person who struggles but still succeeds and finds some sort of happiness and self-worth in the end. Give me someone overcoming their traumas in such a way that they can at least have a good quality of life afterwards, even if the trauma will never leave, so long as they’re happy. I’m tired of YA novels that try and sell our generation and gen z the message that life sucks. Give me more hope, more heroes, more people making a difference because hell life is short so best make the most of it making a difference.

To quote GotG, why do I care so much about stories that revolve around saving the world, even if that world is just as small as a found family?

And my existence might as well be a happy one and have HOPE GOD DAMMIT.

TL/DR: If a book leaves me feeling like shit after reading it because it ends on a super shitty note, I’m generally not going to enjoy that book. And the fact that most YA novels these days that are given to highschoolers fall into this category is hot garbage when this is around the time they’re trying to find some sort of direction in life.

*Note: I realize that there are times and places for books that give more somber messages. Hell, I’ve even enjoyed some books with messages of such a tone. But media these days, and honestly for most of my life starting in mid to late teenage years (and maybe earlier) has started taking a turn towards the more depressing/somber stuff, and its overwhelming and just bad. And even back then when first reading it this was something I picked up on and didn’t enjoy. It just was not the right time in my life to hear a message so devoid of giving a shit.

Problem 3: Holden is honestly, super fucking creepy.

Okay, we back on the train of the actual book’s writing. Holden the dipshit is honestly, really fucking creepy. Towards women specifically. I have no direct quotes from the book specifically, but I DISTINCTLY remember the way he talked about women (or even young children/girls) being creepy as shit. Like, he waxes lyrical about his kid sister and her classmates and how innocent they are and how he wants to be the “Catcher in the Rye” to keep them innocent and to keep them from realizing how bad the world is. Great, lovely sentiment Holden. Except that the way you’re going about it comes across as being a pedophile.  You’re at the very least sexist as fuck, because you’re objectifying the fuck out of people anyway.

That scene with the sex worker in the hotel room is also one I remember making me feel super uncomfortable. Not because the sex worker is there, but because uh, just, god, that whole scene gave me the creeps. Probably because I felt bad for the woman, coming into the room expecting to be paid for work and there’s just this kid who breaks the fuck down, tells her some depressing shit, and maybe pays her? (does he pay her? I can’t fucking remember, I’d like to think he does, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t, because he’s an ass.) Actually, bigger question IS HE EVEN OF AGE TO HAVE SEX WITH HER LEGALLY? HOW OLD IS THIS KID? HES STILL IN HIGH SCHOOL RIGHT?

…. so I looked it up, he’s 17. SEVENTEEN. HE IS A M I N O R. I’m like 99% sure that the woman he hires is like, twice his age at least. That’s straight up illegal.

god this just gets worse.

TL/DR: Holden is a 17 year old creep who comes off as a pedophile in the way he talks about kids, and also definitely hired a sex worker while he was underage. Idk if that was legal at the time this book was written, but if it was (and I doubt it), that has aged very poorly.

Problem 4: It’s got a lot of male fans who fall into that all too dangerous category of having Fight Club or Rick and Morty being their favorite bit of visual media.

Okay, again, not a problem of the book. But when the majority fanbase (or at least, the most vocal part) are a bunch of abusive men who don’t realize that the message they took away from a work of fiction is incredibly problematic? Or worse, know and don’t care because they think their take is superior? Uhhh, how do I say, big yikes.

Like, this could be your favorite book, whatever, that’s you, I don’t care, but if your reasoning for it is because Holden is, in your opinion, an unflawed idealized version of yourself/your ideals?

thats a nope from me bro.

———-

That’s all I can do off the top of my head without going in and reading the book again. Which I probably won’t do for a long time, because I don’t need to hear that struggling to make a place for yourself is dumb and proves you’re just “part of the machine, the man has made you his bitch.” while I’m still trying to y’know, get to where I want to go.

But there you go, four solid reasons why I really really do not like Catcher in the Rye.

[i-just-like-commenting]

Reading list:

Romancing the Beat: Story Structure for Romance Novels by Gwen Hayes* The Double Bind by Chris Bohjalian (for my book group)** The Stone Sky by N.K. Jemisin*** Babel: Around the World in Twenty Languages by Gaston Dorren Fire and Blood by George R.R. Martin

Not depicted (on iPad):

Transmetropolitan Vol.1: Back on the Street by Warren Ellis (for my graphic novel book group, my first reread of it in a decade)

*I’ve been interested in this book since Dan Olson references it in his analysis of Fifty Shades of Gray, and that interest was renewed when I tried dissecting the wonky structure of Venom and wondered whether it really did fit better with romcom - my instinct is more buddy-cop structure, but as the cinematic masterpiece that is 22 Jump Street taught us those two genres often follow the same beats

**It is literally a nextgen fanfic for Great Gatsby, because when men do that it’s treated as serious literature.

***I would say that being on the third book shows how long it’s been since I posted one of these, but I read the first two in less than two weeks, it’s just that good.

[floralseokjin]

;the touch of silk (m)

In a world where vampires coexist with the living, there are many humans looking for a cheap thrill…you’re ashamed to admit you’re curious too, putting to good use a dating app you find…but Min Yoongi is nothing like you imagined a vampire to be…

pairing; min yoongi x reader genre/warnings; (slight) sugar daddy! yoongi, vampire! yoongi, smut, romance, blood mentions, but nothing too crazy words; 14,221

⇶ more; black honey—sunday mornings—small things

⤑ read over on ao3 here

The first time you meet Min Yoongi it’s in a crowded bar. He’s sitting in the darkest corner, the muted lights illuminating his pale skin. He’s beautiful, even better than the pictures you’d seen online. His skin is blemish free, glowing with a freshness a dead person shouldn’t have. For he’s a vampire. Has been for over 90 years in fact, if what he put on his profile is correct. He’s older than your grandparents but doesn’t look a day over thirty; youthful forever, on this earth for eternity. Or until someone sticks a stake in his heart or he burns in the sunlight.

You’re not nervous or afraid. You’re unsure why because everyone you know is too scared to be in walking distance of the night crawlers. Not you, you’ve been curious ever since they began coexisting with you guys. Most are just like humans you think. Of course you get your bad vamps but you also get your bad humans too. You can list infinitely more serial killers that have been human as oppose to vampire. Yoongi actually laughs at you when you tell him the exact same thing.

“What’s so funny?” You ask, face puzzled.

“You do realise half those serial killers you think were human aren’t, right?” He tells you. “Jack the ripper, Cleveland torso murderer, black dahlia—all vampires. That’s why they never got caught.”

“You’re lying,” you accuse.

“Why would I lie to you?” He chuckles. “The clue is in the crime. All committed at night.”

“But none of those victims had bite marks,” you puzzle. It didn’t make sense.

“Cute,” he smirks. “You think vampires only kill for blood.”

That’s the first reminder you’re dealing with a vampire. Of course, Yoongi is as harmless as one can get, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t hurt a person before, killed somebody once upon a time. You’re not dumb. You know how they work. It’s just some vamps get bored of the bloody and violent lifestyle quicker than others. They crave a normality to life only humans can have and some try really hard to follow the rules and make sure they’re as mortal as a vampire can get.

“Do you have a preferred blood type?” You ask.

Yoongi says he’s been drinking artificial blood ever since it came out, only choosing to feed from a willing mate for the real stuff. When he tells you that, your breath hitches because that’s what you’re here for right; a potential mate that will provide him company…and…other unorthodox activities that makes your stomach bounce around in desire. Min Yoongi is a good-looking man, even if he wasn’t a vampire, you’d bet the girls would be lining up for a go at him…and the men.

You watch him take the bottle in his hand and flip it around, the label now facing you and you see in big black text: A positive. That’s your blood type. It says so right on the dating profile you used to find him. If your mother knew her daughter was using satan worthy means to find a guy—or hell to that, find money, she’d go to her grave early. However, what she didn’t know won’t hurt her. After all, you were just having some fun.

“What does it taste like?”

Another question. At this rate he’ll think you’re interviewing him for a special piece in the city’s newspaper. He shrugs, dark fringe flopping in his face as he does so and you watch him take a large sip of the red liquid. He smacks his lips loudly, enjoying the taste as it laces his mouth and slips down his throat. For some reason, the sight makes your heart race; oddly erotic in the dimly lit bar and you know you have to control yourself. This is your first meeting, just to get to know one another. You are not supposed to be thinking about how beautiful he would look with his fangs extended and how much you would practically kill for that visual.

“Sweet,” he replies simply, a smile on his face, and you have to look away when your eyes lock, something about it too intense for you after all those thoughts. Sweet…did that mean you would taste sweet to him?

“Does the blood type really matter?”

“I mean, a casual vampire isn’t going to care about the blood type as long as the human is clean of diseases, but there are some who think they are the superior being and are owed whatever blood they choose. I have no time for those type of creatures,” he shrugs off, nose wrinkled in disgust and you’re surprised by the distaste for his own kind.

Granted, not every vampire is like he described. Some take to living life like normal humans; working beside you, dating humans, even getting married now the law had passed… But there are still some who think humans are inferior to them—whilst still taking all the privileges they can get from this world, you may add… You guess Yoongi has no time of day for those kinds of vampires, and for some reason that has you feeling some type of way.

“But you chose me because of my blood type, right? It says I’m A positive on my profile…”

For some reason you can’t shut up tonight. You should definitely feel more nervous, but instead, only a mild buzz of excitement flows through your veins. Some would say you’re reckless, but you see it as adventurous…

You watch him pause, placing his bottle down with a clank. When he smiles he looks you straight in the eye and your heart thuds against your rib cage. He’s breathtaking.

“No,” he shakes his head simply. “I chose you because I thought you were incredibly beautiful and I wanted to get to know you better. You are more than just a blood bag to me…”

And he stays true to his word.

You decide you want to see each other again and before you know it weeks have past, no blood taking in sight. He hasn’t even made a move in other ways … Not even a kiss. Of course there’s a hand on the small of your back when he leads the way and there’s definitely flirting going down. He can tell in your eyes you want him like no tomorrow but he’s a man of patience. He always seems to offhandedly mention he can wait eternity for things and you know deep down he’s teasing you. You wonder how long you have to wait…

You get along brilliantly though. He has a quick witted, dry sense of humour that you love. He can make you laugh till the sun comes up—quite literally. He also doesn’t seem to mind your fascination with him. He answers the questions you give to him with ease, but almost every time with a raised eyebrow, because well, you’re you.

“Have you ever killed someone?”

You whisper this question because you’re in a crowded art gallery. It still amazes you how businesses now open their doors at night as well as day. Although you aren’t surprised—double the business is always great. It’s while you’re viewing a pretty dreadful painting—not skill wise of course, just…content…a man covered in blood next to a dozen dead bodies or so, the question pops into your head. You’re comfortable enough to ask Yoongi, although whether he gives you an answer is another thing…

He raises that eyebrow slowly as you look up at him, expression innocent and he chuckles under his breath. “You are incredibly morbid.”

With a hand on your back he moves you along to the next painting—sunflowers, definitely more innocent and you guess he’s not going to reply. That is until you feel his mouth by the shell of your ear, breath hot as he whispers against it.

“I’m a vampire,” he tells you, as if it answers your question, and it does, for the most part.

But you’re curious, one day it could probably get you killed—in this world it could definitely get you killed…

“Of course I’ve killed people—humans, vampires,” he pauses as you hold your breath, in sudden shock at his frankness. “—never animals though, I love them too much.”

His hand’s still on your back, having dropped to the lowest point, just atop your bottom and it’s all you can feel, like it’s burning its way inside your body. His mouth is so close to your face you’ve never wanted to kiss him more, and you pray for it, even though it won’t happen in a place this full. Instead you bite down on your bottom lip and try to flush away the disappointment that fills you when Yoongi steps back and regains his position next to you, viewing the painting as if it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. You bet he’s seen so many wonders of the world… You want to ask, but you’ve already filled your quota for tonight.

It’s when you’re leaving the gallery he feels the need to tell you something, as if it’s been weighing on his mind the whole time after you asked him that very personal question.

“I haven’t killed anyone in thirty years. Not since I decided I wanted to live a normal life.”

For some reason, knowing he hasn’t killed in your lifetime eases you slightly. As if knowing he’s been a good guy for a while now would make everything better for your mother if she accidentally found out her daughter was getting paid to date the living dead…

You scoff to yourself. Nothing would make it better.

Another question you’ve been dying to ask comes out one night after you’ve watched a late night showing at the movie theatre. The Great Gatsby. A movie set in the 1920s. By your calculations, if correct, Yoongi was turned in that decade. So naturally, while engrossed in the movie you can’t take your eyes off him, wondering what he’s thinking about, his gaze intense, forehead furrowed, deep in concentration. He’s lived through all that, you think. He’s seen the real thing.

The question comes out as he drives you home.

“How did you turn into a vampire?”

His story is a simple one. Love. The simplest, yet also most complex emotion. He fell in love with a vampire and upon finding out what she was, made the decision to ask her to turn him. It’s that of modern day books and movies, but it’s real for him. Very real. He’s proof—more than ninety years on. You want to know if he regrets it, if only just a part of him…but you decide that’s a question for another day…

Despite getting to know him as well as the back of your hand, he’s still yet to make a move. You enjoy his company and he’s the perfect gentleman but you’re growing restless. Being around him lately is like being attached to a ticking time bomb. With every little thing he does; a look and a smile your way, a touch or even just a brush against your arm, you’re weak and in fear of combusting.

That’s why you take it into your own hands one night…

You’re in a restaurant when the waiter seems a little on the judging side. Vampires have been coexisting with humans for over three years by now but obviously some people just don’t like it. However, what some really despise are the humans that choose to associate themselves with the creatures. Vampire sympathisers, that’s what they call them. And that’s you, you guess, if you’re going by their logic.

It’s when the waiter is handing you your food, just after serving Yoongi his bottle of blood that he whispers—looking you directly in the eyes, hate driving through them— “Enjoy your meal, vamp fucker.”

Yoongi hears it, of course he does, he’s a vampire. The waiter’s more than stupid. And as he turns to leave you notice Yoongi slam his fist on the table, face stern as he breathes angrily through his nostrils. You’re still in shock but you think fast and reach for his hand, squeezing it gently to silently warn him. There’s no point in letting those hateful people think they’re right.

The rest of the meal goes by pretty tensely. Yoongi is silent for most of it, only speaking when you try to make conversation. When you leave, he doesn’t give a tip and it’s when you’re walking to his car, stopping beside the passenger’s door to open it for you, that he finally makes conversation. And it’s not one you like.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks, and when you knit your forehead together in confusion, he coughs, clearing his throat to begin again. “Me? Are you sure about me?”

“Or course I am—

But he’s not listening, shaking his head as he begins to talk over you. You’re not even listening too by this point because he’s talking rubbish. If he thinks one idiots’ opinion is going to make you change your mind, then he doesn’t know you at all. The weeks of getting to know one another must have been a waste then…

“I understand if you don’t want to carry on this agreement. No hard feelings…”

He’s still going on and you roll your eyes in irritation. For a vampire he’s not very head strong. He has it all wrong. What happened inside the restaurant doesn’t make you change your mind regarding him, more like another knock when it comes to the compassion of humans on this planet.

Yoongi is a gentleman. A kind, well spoken vampire, who could show them a thing or two when it comes to this world. To realise he thinks so lowly of himself that he would come to the conclusion you don’t want him anymore, just because of a rude imbecile’s comment is shocking. Yoongi is twice the man—yes man, because he’s more than a vampire— than that guy will ever be, and he needs to know it.

He’s still mumbling about god knows what when you go to kiss him. You don’t think too hard, because if you do, you know you won’t do it. His lips are soft, partially wet because they’re still parted. His breath hitches once he realises what’s happening, body freezing, but he doesn’t push you away. You peck at his mouth, once, twice, a third time, cautiously as you wait for him to kiss back and it’s as your lips press for a fourth, that he does.

He’s just as gentle, as if he doesn’t want to mess it up and you brave it, reaching out to press your palms against his shoulders, wanted to feel him a little. After a moment, he’s doing the same, reaching out to hold your neck, angling your chin so he can deepen the kiss.

His lips aren’t cold like you imagined, or hard. They’re plush and warm against yours, applying hardened pressure as he hums in approval. Both the sound and vibration do something to you, you’re unsure what, but you feel the tingling all over your body and gasp a little. The sticky sound as your mouth parts greater against his sounds in your ears and then his tongue hints across your bottom lip, seeking permission to enter.

The kiss isn’t greedy or eager. You’re just both enjoying the sensation—the sensation you’ve craved since you met him. There has been no doubt in your mind since the first time you met Min Yoongi, he’s different. There’s something about him.

He pulls away suddenly, turning his head away from you and for a moment you’re confused, until he whispers a sorry, and then it all makes sense. His fangs are out. You feel your cheeks heat up. If that’s not a for sure sign that he’s enjoying himself then you don’t know what is. It must be a bind to hide, but you don’t care anyway. Why does he need to hide from you?

Without thinking you take his face in your hands and make him look at you again. You’re in awe for a moment, eyes flicking over his face before they land on his protruding fangs. They shine in the moonlight and he looks beautiful. So beautiful in fact, you kiss him again.

He doesn’t pull away.

You kiss a lot during the next couple of weeks. But if you thought this was to mark a change in your relationship, you’re wrong. Kissing is all you do, and you’re losing your patience. How are you expected to keep your cool when you have to see him multiple times a week? You’re turning desperate, and he knows it too.

Tonight you have your arms wound tightly around his middle, hugging him to your body that’s flat against your front door, mouth attached to his. He’d walked you to the threshold after your date, not expecting and surprised when you’d flung yourself at him dramatically. He’s into the kiss—you wouldn’t continue to embarrass yourself if you knew he wasn’t—he’s hard against your pelvis. The sensation only makes you more desperate, a wanton mess, before you try to pull him back when he breaks away. His fangs are out again and he’s partially out of breath.

“Let me see them,” you beg, tugging at the collar of his black coat.

“You have a fetish, Miss,” he chuckles, but he lets you have him.

Kissing when his fangs are extended isn’t as hard as you’d thought it would be. Each time they drag across your parted mouth or each time you run your tongue along them, you’re reminded of how much he’s into this—you. And oh, are you into him too. You want him. All of him. You want to feel what it’s like to be pleasured by him, taken by him.

But for some reason he thinks each opportunity isn’t the right one.

“Are you trying to end me?” He pulls away, voice affected terribly because you’ve just shamelessly ground against his erection. “We’re in public.”

“There’s no one about,” you shrug, straightening his collar that’s been pulled all shapes. “Besides, why don’t you just come inside?”

There’s a teasing to your voice that he hears but doesn’t do you any favours. Instead, it’s him doing all the messing around when he smiles and replies, “maybe another time.”

Before you can reply he has his hand in your coat pocket, reaching for your keys. In one motion they’re in the door and he’s turning the lock. You look up at him to see a smirk on his face and you scowl, to which he chuckles loudly.

“Goodnight,” he whispers, bending to kiss your cheek. “See you next time.”

And then he’s gone.

You don’t wait till next time. You mean business when you try and seduce him tonight. It’s halloween, and you know just the thing. Yoongi has mentioned in passing that he owns a nightclub. Not your average one at that. One for vampires…and humans. A place for folk to quench their curiosity. He’s told you the name of the place so it takes no time at all to google and find the address.

Club Dead.

It’s a little out of town but nothing that a taxi can’t solve and as you get out and pay the guy you stop to look up in awe. The building’s all black, door bright red and you can hear the blaring music and crowd from out here. It’s crazy to think Yoongi owns this place. It’s even crazier to realise he’s in there right now. And you’re turning up unannounced. Nerves fill you, but you carry on and step inside.

The place is pact, it’s hard to tell whose vampire and who is human. It’s even harder to find Yoongi. Maybe he’s in his office… Now that you’re here you realise you haven’t thought this out much… The club is loud and not your scene at all. Call him! That’s a great idea, but as you reach for your phone you’re interrupted when a large hand squeezes your ass.

“Hey there, pretty little thing,” the suspects voice leers in your ear and a bolt of dread flies through your body.

You twist on instinct, knowing it’s better to be facing this creep than have him behind you and you shoot him a look. Whatever he just did does not work as a flirting technique, it’s impossible to ever think it would. The stranger is middle aged and muscular, shaved head and from what you can see of his body, filled with tattoos. He’s still leering at you and you skin crawls.

“What’s a sweet girl doing in a place like this? Curious, are we?”

You swallow slowly, unsure if you can reply, but the more you stay silent the quicker he will realise he has the upper hand, and you can’t have that. While thinking, Yoongi suddenly pops into your brain and you wish he was here right now…maybe if you shouted, he’d hear you? You take a step back quickly, bumping into someone as they walk past. “I’m here to meet somebody,” you explain quickly, voice tight.

The stranger makes a show of looking left and right before a grin appears on his face. It’s not a nice grin, it’s unnerving and ugly, and you’re beginning to wish you’d never stepped foot inside this place. What were you thinking?

“I don’t think they turned up, babe. Why don’t I show you a good time instead?”

Whatever your retort was going to be, it’s wedged in your throat when you see the guy extend his fangs. He’s a vampire, and for some reason that makes this whole thing scarier. Just knowing that he’s definitely quicker than you, stronger than you and deadlier than you, has your heart beating ninety to the dozen.

“N-no thanks,” you speak up, trying to sound firm but the stutter gives you away and he laughs in your face, taking a step closer.

You shrink back, ready to scream if you have to, but then you feel an arm wrap around your waist. You jump, turning your head, almost expecting to see another one, but before you can see the new person’s face, you smell him. It’s Yoongi, and you’ve never been more relieved to see anyone in your whole life. His face is as hard as stone as he surveys the other vampire, and you almost shudder when you see how cold his eyes look.

“Get out.”

The stranger laughs again. “Who are you to tell me to get out?”

“I own this place.” Yoongi states, voice like ice, and you watch the shock appear on the vampire’s face for a moment, before he shrugs and smirks.

“Fine, but at least let the girl come with me.”

Your heart starts pounding again, afraid, because it looks like he’s not giving up. You shrink back into Yoongi further and he tightens his grip around your waist, reassuring you silently that he won’t let anything happen to you.

“She’s not going with you,” he chuckles darkly.

“Don’t you think it’s her decision?”

“She’s mine,” Yoongi snarls and even though you can’t see, you hear… His fangs are out and the stranger’s eyes widen in shock before he scowls, realising he’s lost and he storms away. Yoongi’s eyes don’t leave his figure until he’s out the club.

You go to say something to him, mouth open but before any sound comes out, he’s pulling you by the hand, making his way through the crowd. “Come,” he orders.

You follow behind him until you arrive at a door and he leads you inside. The room is square in shape, walls white with a desk in the centre. You guess it’s his office. The door clicks shut and you automatically turn to face him with a heavy heart, knowing he’s about to berate you. You’re not even half way done turning before you’re proven right.  

“What are you playing at?”

“I wanted to see you…” you tell him curtly, hands clasping in front of your lap.

“So you turn up unannounced?!” He exclaims. “This place is dangerous.”

Your narrow your eyes. “Why, because I’m a woman?”

“No.” He shakes his head tightly, “because you’re a human.”

You have no answer to that. He’s probably right. A club filled with vampires probably only means one thing and he proves it in his next statement.

“If you’re here, vamps automatically think you’re down for some fun.”

You are definitely not down for some fun—well, not with a stranger anyway… You’re here for Yoongi, and Yoongi only. There’s a moment of silence, an unspoken “I told you so,” hanging in the air before he has his hand on your hip, his head cocked to the side as he looks down at you, forehead creased in concern.

“Are you okay?”

You nod quickly. Now that Yoongi’s with you there’s no need to feel scared or worried. You know he’ll protect you, and you’ve never felt safer.

“How did you know I was in trouble?” You ask, mildly curious because you hadn’t seen him at all when you’d first stepped in the club.

“I think I’m finally tuned into your voice now,” he smiles briefly, but you’re hardly listening because you’ve just remembered something else… Something that had made your heart jump around like crazy for a moment back outside.

You must look like you’re in your own little world because you’re suddenly aware that Yoongi is looking at you slightly perplexed, wondering why you have such a massive grin on your face probably…

“What?” He wonders out loud.

“You called me yours,” you more or less glee, unashamed to tell him because, well, he’s the one who said it after all.  

He keeps a straight face and you watch him swallow before he’s taking a step closer. You’re hovering against the side of his desk when his arms wrap around your waist tightly, pressing your bodies together. “Are you not?” He asks, shrugging a little, a smug attitude that has your belly fizzing a little.

Even more so when he leans into kiss you, parting your lips instantly with his. His breath is hot and tickly, a sensation you will never get used to because he’s a vampire, he’s supposed to be dead! So why does kissing him feel so real? You could lose yourself in him and just when you’re about to, he pulls away. It’s always him pulling away, never you, because you want him. You crave him.

“What are you wearing?” He questions, one eyebrow raised as he holds you at arms length, eyes racking up and down your body, like he’s only now realised. For a vampire, he’s not very observant.

“It’s halloween,” you quip, tugging at the hem of your dress self-consciously.

“It’s not very scary,” he shoots back, looking at you as if you have two heads.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself a little before you carry on. “I wanted to dress up for you.”

It was true. You’d gone looking for the outfit yourself a couple of days ago, knowing exactly what you wanted to get. After watching that movie the other week with him, you couldn’t stop thinking about human Yoongi. In his element, in his decade. You’d wanted to be a part of that, or at least just a reminder of the past.

“Don’t I look good?” You press, feeling a tad nervous now that he hasn’t replied yet, still looking at you, but now features etched in deep thought. You tug at the hem of your flapper dress once again, feeling the dark embellishments graze against your fingers and fiddle with your hair. You hold your breath and wait, relief flooding you when he pulls you closer once more.

“You look amazing,” he beams, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose.

Your heart floods with warmth and it’s all you can do just to busy yourself and ask another question—changing the subject almost.

“What about you? Why aren’t you dressed up?”

“I’m too old for that,” he shrugs, going in for another peck at your lips and you kiss him back, all the while still trying to keep conversation going.

“I forgot you’re nearly a hundred,” you tease.

“Nearly 130 if we’re going to be exact,” he hums against your mouth, eyes catching yours as they dance with something… The atmosphere has changed by now, your voices low and breathing quiet.

“You look good for an old man,” you manage to get in with a grin before he’s kissing you with more vigour; eager and hard.

You latch onto him, arms around his neck as he pushes you against the edge of his desk, his hands traveling down your back until his palms are lying flush against your butt. It’s a new sensation. He’s never shown such keen interest like this before and your belly twists in delight, unable to stop yourself when a moan escapes your throat.

He likes that. His own gruff moan of approval sliding from him too as he pulls away for a moment to look at you, one of hands appearing again to cup your cheek. You try to keep his gaze but for some reason it’s difficult. His eyes are dark and intense, something you haven’t quite seen before and you end up shying away from him. He smirks, leaning forward, and you think he’s going to kiss you again—well, he does, just not on the lips.

His mouth feels foreign on your neck, wet tongue running against your sensitive flesh, plush lips sucking marks that stain your skin. You’re a mess now, a slave to his touch and you become weak in his arms, needing his body to hold you up. It finally feels like this is going somewhere. Something you’ve wanted for a while now and your heart is pounding at the thought. He wants you.

You’re able to think a little clearer when he pulls away again, letting him peck at your open mouth, both hands now holding your face. The first words that come out of your mouth are I missed you, but before you can wait for some kind of reply, you’re gasping in shock, taken by surprise when he grips your hips and pushes, lying you on top the desk in one fluid motion, his own body gracing over yours. You’re sure you’re lying on various things that are strewn

on his desk, stacks of paper, maybe even a pen digging into your spine—as your head falls back you realise you’re using a laptop for a pillow—but that doesn’t matter, not when you feel his mouth on yours again.

“It’s only been a few days,” he murmurs against yours, but you don’t mind. He must have missed you too if he’s acting like this and you grin against his lips, which he returns immediately.

You’re at a loss for words when his mouth trails down your chin and somehow he’s still kissing you. Feeling his lips and hints of wet tongue at your cleavage is enough to make you stop breathing for a moment, your body weak for his touch. You’re already squirming under him, his large hands clamping down on your hips as he holds you still and the heat between your bodies is almost burning you. You want him. So bad. And with the way he’s acting it seems it’s finally about to happen. You hadn’t expected it to be at such a place, but you want him so bad, you really don’t care.

“You really do look beautiful like this,” he awes, eyes locking when you look down to see him kissing at your stomach. The sensation is frustrating, wanting to know what it would be like without your dress working as a barrier. You want to feel him against your bare skin, and you’re beyond control, especially when he’s prying apart your legs to kiss just below your knee.

“W-will they miss you out there?” You manage to get out, although your voice is shaky by now.

It’s your way of trying to gauge what’s happening right now. Is this really going to carry on? You need to know so you can brace yourself. He shakes his head and carries on kissing your body, mouth behind your knee now, the most sensitive of places that has you gasping again, body jumping a little when you feel his fangs graze your flesh. You hadn’t even noticed they were out again, that’s how used to them you were, but now that you’ve felt them, you begin to wonder…

Yoongi had never discussed biting you, apart from when you’d first met at that bar and he’d told you he only feeds of humans if they’re mates, but you can’t say you’re not curious. You’ve heard during sex it’s the most divine pleasure and as you start thinking about it, and he’s still kissing up your leg, at your thighs now, dress falling up to reveal your skin, you begin to get more and more turned on; flesh clammy and breathing shallow. He’s so close to between your legs and your imagination only runs wild. You’re wet, you can feel it sticking to your underwear, see your nipples visibly poking out against the fabric of your dress. Your hands are getting ready to grip his shoulders, to get you ready for whatever’s about to come, but then—

“Yoongiiii,” you can’t help but whine as you feel him pull away from you.

“What?” He deadpans, acting none the wiser, when he knows exactly what he’s done.

You sit up slowly, dissatisfaction filling you as you realise what you want isn’t going to happen tonight. Your left turned on and annoyed, your wet thighs from all his kisses drying in the cold air, only adding to the memory that those few minutes are now.

“Did you think I was going to take you on my office table with an audience at the other side of the door?” He asks with a cocked eyebrow.

In more stable conditions, no, but he’d got you so riled up—on purpose, you may add, that you really wouldn’t have cared if he had. Just him saying the phrase ‘take you’ is enough to add to your colossal amount of sexual frustration, but you grin and bear it, standing up to face him, tugging your dress back in place.

“I should order you a taxi to take you home, I can’t leave this place until closing time and you’re definitely not staying in this cesspit one second longer,” he tells you, straightening up his collar. He pauses to watch you for a moment, a smirk widening on his face.

“You’re cute when you’re pouting,” he notes and you quickly rush to tell him he’s wrong. You’re not pouting, nope, not at all—even though yes, yes you are, but he doesn’t need to know that. However before you can, he’s making you gasp again, twisting your body to his so your back is against his chest. He does it on purpose, maybe to ease your worry—he’s hard under his slacks, because he wants you too. And that’s enough to get you home tonight without much of a fuss.

Your breath catches when you hear his voice against your ear, his words not helping your predicament at all. “…and when you’re trembling—desperate.” He enunciates each syllable clearly, making you wonder how it’s possible a voice can do such things to you and you collapse a little, just wanting him so much.

“I can hear your heart racing, your breathing’s out of control,” he carries on. “You deserve better than a quick fuck in my grotty club. You mean too much to me…”

You freeze abruptly, that one word swirling around your mind. Fuck, fuck, fuck….fuck. You feel like you’re dangling on the end of a string, your whole body burns with a want so deep it aches…and he loves every minute of it. Of course he does, for he has eternity to tease.

“Don’t worry,” he husks, his breath hitting your ear and it sends shivers up your spine, glad his body is behind you, so you can use him for support. You need it by the time he finishes.

“The wait’ll be over soon—but remember—I’ll have you when I say.”

The wait is over two weeks later. You nearly burst from all the wanting and longing when a package arrives at your apartment one morning and you open it to find a gift and a note inside. Yoongi’s note instructs you to open the large package first, tied with a black bow. You gasp when you unfold a stunning emerald green silk dress. You wonder if you can pull off such a piece, will it drape and flow in the right places?—Do you even have shoes that match? You’re too busy fretting that you nearly forget about the smaller package left in the box and when you open that next, you forget how to breathe. Lingerie. Staring at the items you reach out with a delicate hand, running your fingertips over the black lace, excitement and apprehension washing over you. His note now carries a different meaning.

Accompany me for dinner at my home tomorrow night. I’ll call a car for you. Remember to wear your gifts.

Forever yours, Yoongi.

.

.

You’ve never stepped inside his home in all the weeks you’ve been getting to know one another. It’s more than beautiful when you finally do, interior antique and gothic. Only what you would’ve guessed for Yoongi. It suits his aura, and now that you’re wearing the dress he’s purchased, you feel like you fit in.

To your surprise, he has dinner laid out for you on the dining table. It looks absolutely mouthwatering, and unless he’s hiding the fact he’s a chef now, you know he’s had someone cook for you. The fact that he’s pushing out all the stops tonight has your heart racing. You can’t help but wonder what’s going to happen next.

However, just like Yoongi, he plays it off cooly. He speaks about work, asking you all the small details, how you’ve been, what’ve you been up to… He’d casual and unfazed, sipping on his carbonated blood that takes the place of your champagne. You try to stay as collected as him, but you feel as if you’re on edge. Each nerve in your body is buzzing and you can’t seem to calm yourself. Your legs rattle anxiously under the table and you have to force your food down. You even leave half your lemon cheesecake. It’s heartbreaking. But you can’t seem to concentrate, under your dress the lingerie he picked out burns into your skin. Tonight is the night. It has to be. And you can’t keep imagining what’s to come.

After dining is done and you’ve had more than enough anxiety inducing small talk, that you can’t remember properly because your brain is fried, he asks if you want to see the rest of his house. You nod, unsure of what this entails, but a part of you knows the tour will end in his bedroom, so you wonder behind him, trying to practice your deep breathing exercises.

However, as soon as you step into one room—a music room of sorts, you guess—you see a musical instrument in one corner and gasp, all nerves disappearing for a moment.

“A piano,” you sigh in wonder and he nods—proudly you may add, and that makes you realise something. “You play?”

“It was…my occupation, shall we say, before I was turned into a vampire,” he explains slowly, He pauses while he thinks for a moment, and then he adds. “Want me to play something?”

“Yes please,” you half-plead. You’ve loved the sound of a piano ever since you were a little girl and to hear one right beside you—for your ears only, is a dream come true. Especially played by Yoongi.

You keep to his side as he sits down, hands hovering over the keys before he begins playing from memory, or maybe he’s just that talented the music flows from his fingertips. You’ve never heard the melody before and you wonder if it’s one of his own. Is he even more skilled than you first thought? Your heart fills with something at the thought, pride? It’s hard to pinpoint, but warmth floods your chest and you can’t help but sway to the tune a little on the spot.

He’s still playing when he turns his head to gaze at you, a smile appearing on his face. “You want to dance,” he realises, and stops playing abruptly. “Let me stop, play some music on vinyl so I can show you how talented I am at dancing too.” He jokes with a chuckle.

Your heart fizzes at the thought. He can dance, too? And you’re about to dance with him? He sets up the record carefully and takes your hands as the warm music fills the room. As he leads you, you almost forget that a moment ago you were aflame with nerves. Now you feel relaxed and at ease, gazing up at Yoongi as he grins at you. He looks beautiful, black hair styled against his forehead, the crispest of white shirts on, complete with a black bow tie. He looks radiant and you feel the same, it glows off you.

“I wish I could have seen you back then.”

The words fall out of your mouth before you can think. It’s something you’re curious about, and seeing him like this just makes you even more inquisitive.

“You forget,” he smiles, slowing your steps down.  “I never age. I looked the same then as I do now.”

“Still,” you argue, “just to see human Yoongi—to see if you’re the same.”

“Personalities don’t change no matter how many years go by.”

“So you’re saying you think you’re the same?” You ask sceptically.

“Expect for the insatiable need for blood, yes,” he jokes, halting all movement by now.

You’re still cynical. You don’t believe for one second a person would stay the same if they’ve been on the planet for over a hundred years—even more so seeing as said reason was because they were a vampire. Yoongi defies some of the things this world knows about the species, but you don’t think that doesn’t mean he hasn’t changed to adapt. Everything about him interests you and you can’t help but want to know more. You want to know everything about his life.

“Did it hurt when you got turned?”

Your question hangs in the air for a moment as he regards you. You can tell he’s not used to telling a person so much about his life, but when he opens his mouth to answer you, you’re filled with warmth, because he trusts you.

“No,” he shakes his head. “I was so in love I didn’t feel a thing.”

His reply surprises you. You know he turned for love, but imagining such a thing is incomprehensible. Not because you can’t imagine Yoongi loving someone, it’s just beyond fathomable to imagine loving someone so much that you’d want to live forever. That’s a commitment to make. One you wouldn’t take lightly. Was he that smitten that he became jaded?

“With your maker?” You ask, even though you know the answer already.

“Olivia,” he nods, “yes.”

He shifts on his feet and lets go of your hands. He’s not awkward, if anything it seems like he wants to talk about it, or at least wants to tell you. He’s just building himself up. Hearing her name makes her so much more real. You wonder what she looked like, beautiful no doubt, and you wonder—

“What happened to her?”

“She died,” he replies quickly.

“Oh,” you let out, shocked and instantly feeling like a fool. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—

“It was a long time ago,” he interrupts. “Before you were born. So I wouldn’t worry yourself with condolences.”

“W-what happened?”

He shakes his head and chuckles quietly, amused by something. “You really are curious. One day it could get you killed, do you know that?”

You’re silent in reply because he’s probably right. Your curiosity got you this far after all, and that run in at Yoongi’s club was pretty scary. Maybe you shouldn’t try to appease your wonder all the time.

“She couldn’t live without me,” he continues regardless and you frown a little. Where did he go? Why did they part ways, if they did at all?

“B-but…”

“I didn’t want her anymore. I didn’t love her,” he cuts in again and your eyes widen in shock, his honesty surprising you. How could someone who loved a person that much just fall out of love?

“I guess people fall out of love after years of bloodlust and bloodshed,” he shrugs, and things finally begin to make sense…

“I…I didn’t want to be that person anymore…a murderer—a monster…” he carries on, voice firmer, brave now. “Every time I looked at Olivia I was just reminded of all the terrible things I had done. I’m not one for blaming my actions on other people, but I knew without her I would be able to ease my conscience, or at least begin to anyway…”

“You broke her heart?” You whisper, not meaning to rub salt on the wound, but just to articulate your thoughts. That’s why she had died, because he wasn’t in love with her anymore… She couldn’t take it anymore…

Yoongi nods solemnly, sighing a little before he replies. “It turned out she still loved me as deeply and madly as she had the first day she’d met me, playing at a bar in France. In the end, she couldn’t bear life without me by her side…”

“How did you take it?”

“Would you think badly of me if I told you all I felt when she left was relief?” He asks you, regarding you seriously. “There was no more constant reminder of every horrendous thing that I had done in this world hanging over my head. I felt free. Being with her for so long sucked away all my humanity and it took me years to build it up again. Olivia had no humanity, that’s why she worked well as a vampire. I on the other hand…” he fades off, and you don’t think badly of him at all. How can you? The situation is a complex one and one you will never understand because you’d never lived it. You’re a human. It can never make perfect sense…

“I regret what happened—what I did to her in the end, but mainly I regret begging her to turn me,” he tells you truthfully and that’s one thing you can’t agree on.

“You shouldn’t regret it,” you argue, stepping towards him and cupping his cheek tenderly. “You’re an amazing, kind man.”

It’s true that you didn’t know him all those decades before. You don’t know what he’s done, or what he’s capable of—you can only imagine. However, what you do know is the here and now and the man that’s stood in front of you is breathtaking. He’s worked hard to change his life and because of that, you’re deeply proud of him.

“Man?” He questions, looking confused.

“Yes, man,” you smile. “That’s what you are to me.”

His forehead is crinkled as he thinks your words over and then he’s smiling back at you, holding your hand that’s gripping his cheek.  

“You’re sweet—too sweet for a man like me,” he tells you, leaning in to place a kiss on your lips.

“I don’t think so,” you murmur, rubbing your nose against his and then you’re kissing him yourself, hard, trying to show him how you really feel with actions because words are sometimes hard to express.

You don’t stop at his mouth, pulling away to kiss at his cheeks, nose, eyelids, whatever you can reach and he laughs and lets you. The sound is different to what you’re used to, more like a giggle, innocent and full of life and now you don’t feel anxious at the thought of spending the night with him. All this time you’ve been desperate to take it to the next stage but you’d missed the point; all this time was taken to get to know each other and now you’re fully comfortable with whatever happens next. Your relationship may not be a real relationship, Yoongi may buy you things and pay you to keep him company, but that doesn’t matter. There’s a friendship there, an attraction—a connection, and it’s special. Truly special.

Yoongi pulls away for a moment, out of breath and gasping. “When I’m with you,” he awes, “when I kiss you,” and to signify his point he kisses you again, breaking away with a groan, clutching the back of your head as he holds you to him. “I feel human again.”

Your heart clatters about in your chest, the blood rushing to your face, loud in your ears, his confession catching you off guard and it’s all you can do but to kiss him again, breaking away with a grin and your own admission.

“When I’m with you I feel invincible.”

He pauses for a moment and then he’s grinning. “The perfect match then,” and you nod. It’s true, at least it feels like it is. You’re kissing again, hands running over one another’s bodies. It seems natural tonight—no rush, no urge, just a mutual understanding. A mutual want, that’s finalised when Yoongi stops to regard you, eyes dark and loving as he asks the last question.

“Do you want to see the rest of my home—my bedroom?”

.

.

His room is spacious and dark, a large four poster bed on the back wall. It smells like him. You also find it funny how he needs such a place when he doesn’t even sleep up here, but it’s beautiful either way. You wonder behind him, hand latched in his as he leads you to the foot of the bed and he turns to face you, placing one gentle kiss on your mouth before he’s behind you, hand at the zip of your dress. You shudder in anticipation, chest heaving with adrenaline as you try to calm your excitement, pressing your palms to your lap in a bid to stay still.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” He murmurs and all you can do is nod, not trusting a single word to come from your mouth. Every sense is heightened right now, you can hear him begin to drag the zip down, the noise sending goosebumps down your spine, his other hand holding the top of your arm, hot under his touch, and then his breath hits the shell of your ear and it’s all over.

“Green is your colour, but I know black will be too.”

The zip hits the small of your back, straps falling down your shoulders to reveal the back of your bra to him, the black lace snug against your skin. Your heart is drumming loudly, waiting patiently for him to push the silk down your hips and finally his hand is leaving your arm to hold the fabric. He moves slowly, letting your straps fall fully down your arms to land in front of you and then he pushes downwards, the smooth silk sliding around the curve of your hips and ass. It glides off your body. He barely touches your skin which only makes you crave him more, and before you know it you feel a puff of air as your dress falls from you, pooling at your feet. There’s a pause as you wait for him to say something and you jump a little when he leans forward and kisses your cheek.

“Turn around for me,” he husks against your ear and you belly starts doing somersaults.

It seems like it takes a lifetime to face him, goosebumps appearing across the surface of your skin even though the room is warm. You lift your gaze once you’ve made it, catching his eye before his fall to your body, soaking in the sight of your lacy lingerie. Your brain tells you, you should feel self-conscious, but that’s far from the truth. You feel the most comfortable you’ve ever felt, even while he stands before you fully dressed. It’s exciting and you gasp a little when he places the palms of his hands on your hips, skin colder than yours.

“Beautiful,” he awes, and your heart swells, waiting with bated breath for his next move, every nerve in your body vibrating.

He leans in to kiss you, once, hard on the mouth before he’s pulling away and telling you to get on the bed. Again, time seems to move slowly as you climb on top the mattress, it’s like you’re on pins, willing time to go faster so you can finally feel him.

“Can you sit against the headboard?” He asks as he watches you move and you nod, sitting up so that your back is half leaning on the silk covered pillows and half against the wood of the large carved headboard. The cold is a welcomed relief against your flush skin.

You watch him admire you for a moment, feeling a little overwhelmed, your legs unsure of what to do as you slide your feet against the bedsheet, looking for an appropriate way to place them. It seems too nerving to spread them, knowing he has a perfect view between them, so you settle on lying them flat to the bed. He smirks at something, you’re unsure what, maybe at your obvious fidgeting, and proceeds to unclip his bow tie, dropping it to the floor as he loosens a couple of his buttons with one hand—the large hand, the veins visible. Everything about this moment has your stomach dancing in anticipation.

You’re squeezing your thighs together by the time he joins you on the bed, crawling over you like an animal, still fully dressed and he uses his knees to spread your legs apart, fitting between them perfectly, the texture of his pants brushing against your bare skin. You go to open your mouth to speak but he’s on you again, kissing you hungrily, hands on either side of shoulders, gripping the pillows tightly, a growl leaving him. Your tongues mash together, messy and powerful, fighting to taste every last bit of one another. It has you moaning, finally all that pent-up tension being realised. He has you here, on his bed and it’s only going to end one way.

“You look good on my bed,” he rasps, sliding his mouth down your chin. “Maybe you should stay here forever.”

“That doesn’t seem like a bad idea,” you admit, unable to think of anything better at this moment in time, and you go to tell him that but end up gasping when his tongue runs along your collar bone, fangs grazing against the bone. Your body jerks up, unable to control itself, it craves him and you can’t stop it. You don’t what to stop it.

He’s kissing across your chest now, the swell of your breasts getting all the attention, but he still doesn’t touch you with his body; hands still gripping the pillows and body hovering away from you, a barrier that you don’t want to exist. You want his body against yours to ease the pressure, to feel him. You moan loudly when he starts sucking one of your nipples through the black lace, your heart falling back and hitting the headboard with a thud. Your hands shoot out to grip him—his hair, head, neck, whatever you can reach but he growls and grabs at them, pinning you down as he links his fingers with yours.

Kissing your chest feels pleasurable but it’s also sending you crazy, the pressure between your legs building up as you twist and turn, trying to relieve it desperately. He likes that, chuckling against your chest, fangs nipping at your breasts and that only sends you further out of control, belly plummeting as you feel the obvious wetness form inside your panties. The idea of him piecing your flesh is too much, sucking your blood, tasting the rich liquid you want to give him so badly…it’s making you whine, uncontrollable in his grip. You want that pleasure—you need that pleasure.

He pulls away with a gasp, surprising you slightly when he leans towards your face to rub his nose against yours, leaving go of one of your hands to run through your hair. His mouth is open as he pants loudly, fangs displayed for you to see perfectly. He looks divine—mouthwatering, and with your chest heaving you reach up with shaky fingers to touch his them, gliding your fingertips over the sharpest point. He shudders at the action, eyes closed and when he finally opens them again, they’re as black as the night sky, bearing into your soul, pleading almost.

“Let me taste you,” he whispers and you let out a breath. Is it that everything you want tonight will come true?

“Please,” he adds, looking hopeful, and you nod.

You’d want nothing more. Leaning up to kiss him, he smiles against your lips. It’s chaste before he pulls away and whispers in your ear, his hot breath tickling you, sending shivers of pleasure up your spine.

“It won’t hurt, I promise,” he tells you, and his caring attitude knocks you a little, heart swelling inside your chest. You’ll never get over how chivalrous he is, even when he’s begging to bite you…

“It’ll feel good,” he carries on, placing a kiss against your neck. “I’ll make you feel good.”

His voice is low and effects you immensely. You want him to make you feel good, you really do. It’s all you can think of, and then you’re pulling him back to you, kissing him slowly, smiling shyly when you pull back to divulge something.

“I want to make you feel good too.”

He chuckles at that, kissing your forehead before straightening up, running his hands down your sides, finally touching you and you sink further down the bed. “You are already—trust me,” he lets you know and you smile wider, only to shriek suddenly when a hand travels to your chest and rips your bra in one clean movement, lace snapping in half to reveal your breasts, cold air hitting your nipples.

Your speechless at his strength, something he hasn’t shown you properly before and your heart pounds in your chest, looking up at him in awe. You only ease up when he begins kissing down your stomach, large hands wrapped around your waist and you moan when he runs his tongue upwards, muscles spasming under his touch, chest heaving as you watch him intently, goosebumps spreading against the surface of your skin as he grazes his fangs against the flesh before dipping his tongue inside your navel.

“Yoongi,” you gasp, unsure of what you want to say, you just need to get words out, to express the pent-up pressure inside your body and what rattles your mind. He squeezes you harder in return and you jut your hips towards him, needing some sort of relief, your feet failing to grip the bed as they slide along the sheets.

He growls, moving further down your body until he’s kissing your thighs, head forcing your legs wider. The pressure builds. He’s so close to your core the excitement is too much for you, your skin is hot and sticky, nerves tingling as he continues to lick and nip at your legs. You feel a sharp pain for a millisecond and realise he’s pierced the first layer of flesh, just deep enough for a couple drops of blood to spill out and he lets it settle on the surface before he laps at it. He sighs in great pleasure, like his thirst has been quenched and his tongue glides across the insertion, healing it before your eyes. You’d heard that a vampire’s saliva had healing properties, but to see it with your own eyes in something else and you ogle him in amazement, heart stilling in your chest for a moment. you almost forget your practically naked and desperate on his bed right now. Until he’s speaking again, and you’re very much thrown back in at the deep end.

“You taste delightful,” he praises. “Just like I thought. I can’t wait to have more…but first,” he hums, suddenly thoughtful, hands trailing down to hover over your clothed core. “…I want to taste you in another way.”

Your heart stops jumping around again, fingers gripping the sheets in anticipation. This time he tears your panties, the ripping noise sounding around the room as he tugs the material from you, exposing your soaked centre.

“They were new,” you pout.

“You’ll have to get used to it,” he tells you, unable to tear his eyes away from the one place he wants the most. “I’ll buy you more.”

Your belly fizzes at his admission, wondering to yourself what you’re getting into. If sex with Yoongi is like this every time, you don’t think you’ll be able to handle it. He’s still dressed, the polar opposite to you, who is now naked, the only thing hanging on your body the split bra. The sight turns you on even more. Your slouched now, your head the only thing leaning against the headboard as your back uses the pillows for support.

He’s silent as he makes a move, the pads of his index and middle finger brushing against your folds, parting the sticky flesh. You gasp silently, mouth open as you concentrate on his ministrations, eyes practically rolling back into your head when he begins to run circles against your clit. You’re sensitive, the sensation making you wriggle about; pressure almost too much but not enough… You’re so wet you can hear it, it squelches against his fingertips and he smirks.

“You’ve waited patiently,” he admires, sounding proud of you. “The wait is what always makes a thing better. I praise myself on my patience, but you,” he chuckles darkly, fingers stilling, “—you tested that. You made me fight myself until I couldn’t hold off anymore.”

His words are sending you into a pit of madness, an inferno aflame in the pit of your stomach as you try to get a grip off yourself. You’re tense, unable to wind down and it’s all you can do but to bite down on your lip, breathing loudly from your nose as you watch him descend between your legs. You have just about enough time to brace yourself, to feel his breath against you before his mouth’s attached.

The pleasure is instant when you feel his tongue glide against your folds and his fingers begin to rub circles against your clit once again as he practically makes out with your core. The hints of tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves has you squirming around the bed, sensory overload. It’s when he trails the muscle down until he reaches your hole, tracing around the flesh until he’s back to your clit again, repeating said action multiple times, you really feel yourself lose it. The graze of his fangs doesn’t help either, just adding to your desperation.

“Yoongi, please,” you beg, and you don’t even know what for.

He knows that too. Chuckling as his tongue is still attached to you, he pulls aways to speak, looking you directly in the eyes which only makes your stomach plummet, toes curling. Without him pleasuring you anymore, you’re back in square one, body burning for him, walls pulsing together in longing just to feel him. It’s frustrating and painful and you hate that he knows he has this much power over your relief.

“Begging and you don’t even now why,” he hums.

“I just want more,” you exasperate. “I want you to give me more.”

He chuckles again, the sound sending the tiny hairs on your body on end as he shuffles for a comfier angle. “What did I say earlier…always so curious…impatient, even…”

Your belly is jumping around like no tomorrow; the way he’s speaking, the way he’s acting…it’s doing things to you. Everything about him is one big tease and you almost want a chance at breaking that… You’re pulled out of your thoughts when he clamps his hands just above your hips, essentially locking you in place—at his mercy.

“First or all,” he silks, “if you want more, you need to stop moving around like I’m electrocuting you. How do you expect to enjoy it when you can’t take it properly? And second of all—” and when he pauses he looks you in the eyes, something flashing around in them—you don’t know what, but it makes your breath catch—before carrying on.

“—remember, you asked for it.”

You gasp loudly as he buries his head between your legs without a warning, tongue taking the place of his fingers. He takes no mercy, making sure your legs are as wide as they can get, feet planted on the bed. You need to hold onto something, but think better of using his hair, so you clamp onto your own thighs, digging your nails into the flesh as you squeeze, moans falling from you like no tomorrow. It’s when he begins sucking on your clit you can’t take it anymore, face buried against you and your walls clench for some other type of relief, but you are unable to move because you’re leaded down by his hands, squeezing your waist tight. You feel helpless and that only turns you on even more; you should feel frustrated, but the desperation only fuels you further. You become greedy, and you don’t care.

“What are you whimpering for?” He husks, pulling away slowly, a trail of his saliva dangling from a fang before it breaks and falls.

You hadn’t even realised you’d been whimpering, but by now you’re shameless, so it’s nothing when you admit to what you really want.

“Fingers,” you tell him. “I really want to feel t-them.”

“Is my tongue not enough?” He teases, smirking.

“But if you use your fingers, you can get me r-ready for your cock.”

You’re unsure what has gotten into you. You never usually talk like this, but it’s Yoongi. You lose yourself around him. You seem to have gotten to him too, because at that exact moment, upon hearing your words, he’s moaning deeply, eyes shut as if he’s trying to control himself. His fangs protrude over his bottom lip, chin coated in your arousal. It shines in the moonlight and he looks beautiful. Your stomach stirs once again. You crave him.

“Are you trying to weaken me?” He asks you, voice quiet. He sounds strained and for a moment you feel gleeful.

“Please,” you nod, hands reaching out to touch his face. “I need you.”

He watches you for a moment, leaning into your hand as if he’s considering your request. You open your mouth to add more but you’re cut off when he’s pouncing at you suddenly, hands leaving your waist as one snakes between your legs, fingers only after one destination. You moan out, the sound turning muffled when his mouth finds yours, tongue ramming inside, fangs clashing against your teeth. It’s messy, but urgent. You can feel how much he wants this and for once, he’s not as controlled as he usually is.

He wastes no time with pushing two fingers inside you, and your vagina takes them greedily, welcoming them inside and hugging them tight as he begins to push them in and out, sloppy noises filling the room because you’re so wet. You take him easily as if you were made for him, as if you were waiting your entire life for him. You can’t help the wanton noises that leave you because you’re so overwhelmed and you’re so happy at this moment in time. You feel full and you never want it to stop.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pulling away to kiss up your neck and inside your ear, coating you in his salvia and your used arousal. You can even taste yourself on your lips and that just turns you on even more. “Fuck, I need you too. Can you feel?” He groans, pressing his clothed erection to your thigh.

You nod madly, moaning loudly. He’s so close to you, your pressed against the bed, a mass of sweat and tangled limbs as one of his legs pins you down, your head rammed against the headboard, hair a mess by now no doubt. But all you feel is pleasure. It courses through your body, burns out your veins.

“I want to feel you, I want to fuck you.”

His confessions are falling from his lips now, he’s a mess and you can feel how desperate he is with every word. Fangs nip at your earlobe and you wince, body jerking as he husks deeply into the shell, “I want to feed from you.”

His fingers fuck up into you faster, powerful actions that have you squeezing around them. He’s no doubt trying to control his urges with a distraction and you’re sure at the rate he’s going to make you come. You can feel the tightening of your stomach, feel the burn between your legs.

“You’re gonna cum,” he notices too, and you can’t get any words out to agree, just inhuman noises falling from your lips.

He greedily laps them up, mouth back on yours again and for a moment you can’t breathe, fighting for air, chest heaving when he begins using his thumb to rub at your clit, grunting against your mouth as fucks into you rapidly. It feels like you’re drowning in the pleasure, overcome, floating but sinking at the same time, limbs trembling, toes curling into the sheets.

“Watch my hand,” he grunts, breaking away from the sloppy kiss to look between your body, temple pressed against your clammy forehead.  “Watch me make you cum.”

The sight is enough to tip you over the edge. His arm between your body, the sleeve of his white shirt folded up to reveal the large veins that lace his creamy skin, traveling all the way down his hand, which is wedged between your legs, two of his fingers buried inside you while his thumb plays with your clit. The sight is too much to take in, especially when your gaze drops to your thighs, seeing them pushed wide opened and red, shaking rapidly with the forced of your impending orgasm.

His deep panting against your face is what finally does it and before you know it, you’re crying out, vision blurring as your head explodes and you’re coming all over his hand, clenching around his fingers, a gushing feeling leaving your body. It obliterates you and you’re left feeling weird, frail—weak, shaky, but deeply satisfied. You’re wetter than you were a moment before, feeling the sheets below you dampen your ass. It takes you a while to realise you may have come a little too hard. That’s never happened to you before, no wonder it feels so different.

Yoongi carefully removes his hand from between your legs, pushing your legs together with sticky fingers in a bid to relieve some of the ache in your joints as he massages them, and he grins, still panting loudly, kissing your cheek.

“You’re full of surprises,” he awes and you feel yourself blush—maybe it’s an immediate reaction to the unknown. However, as soon as he shifts to sit up, instantly undoing his shirt buttons, you forget all that.

And just like that, you want more.

He undresses swiftly before your eyes, revealing his marble like chest before he’s unbuckling his belt, the clanking sound sending fresh shivers of desire rattling up your body. And just like that he’s knelt on the bed, naked before you. Your mouth is watering as you sit up straighter, reaching out to touch him. He stops you, cupping your hands with one of his.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you let out, trying to touch him again but he shakes his head.

“This is your night,” he affirms, smiling when you go to argue. He takes his other hand to cup your face, his thumb gliding over your bottom lip and he pushes, the pad smooshing the flesh slightly. “This is just the first…you can show me how good you are at sucking dick another time. Right now, I want you fully.”

You gulp, affected by his words. You’re literally seconds away from what you’ve been craving for so long and you don’t know how to pace yourself, because you know as soon as he enters you, things will be totally different. You’ll be smitten, not that you aren’t already. You take a deep breath and nod, giving him permission to carry on as you lay your head back against the pillows. He crawls over you and you widen your legs once again, the glowing need for him back again.

He enters you slowly, taking it inch by inch and you tense your body, trying to ease up with the stretch. It feels amazing and you can’t help but grip onto the tops of his arms, anchoring him to you as he fills you completely. You lock eyes and share a smile; however you end up giggling when you accidentally squeeze around him and he groans, eyes closing, face pinched as if it’s almost painful pleasure. When he opens them again he leans down and kisses your mouth, voice strained as he speaks.

“You feel amazing—now I won’t ever want to stop fucking you.”

At his change in attitude, your stomach flips, getting ready to brace yourself for what’s about to come and before you can even think straight, he’s pulling out of you just to drive back in. A torturous pace soon turns monstrous as he snaps his hips against yours. You pin to his back, your nails leaving crescent marks in his perfect skin. His flesh is colder than yours which seems to help you. He acts as some kind of cooler, saving you and helping you keep a clearer mind. It allows you to concentrate on every little bit of euphoria he’s giving you. The carnal sounds of pleasure—moans, deep breaths, the slap of skin in skin—it all fills your ears.

You almost forget that he asked to bite you, only remembering when you feel his fangs graze along the column of your neck as he buries his face in the crook. But then it’s all you think and feel. Your whole body burns with the need for him to puncture you, taste you. You want to make him feel good, like you said, and you know this is the truest way. He’ll feel no pleasure like it, and you want that to happen with everything you have. As if he reads your mind— or maybe it’s the way you keep jutting your neck out, trying to rid the hair that covers the flesh, ride him into temptation—he groans to himself, nosing the supple skin between your neck and shoulder.

“C-can I?” His voice is shaking slightly, his arms that hold himself up tensing visibly and you wonder how much self control he has? It’s sexy that he can hold back so powerfully. Always a gentleman. And with that thought, how can you say no?

“Do it,” you whisper, fighting to turn your head to look at him as he stills all movement inside of you.

He looks comically surprised when he lifts his head to look at you too and you would probably giggle if you weren’t so wound up right now, so nervous, so excited…just a mess of emotions really… He catches your mouth with his passionately, catching you off guard for a moment, but you welcome it, running your fingers through his hair as your tongues clash together.

“It’ll feel good,” he hums, pulling away to trace little kisses down your chin, throat, and finally back to the spot he’s chosen. He kisses once, twice—runs his tongues along the clammy flesh and then kisses a last time.

Your heart thuds against your ribcage. You don’t know what to expect, but you do know you want this to happen. You want it more than anything. You slide your hands back down his back and wait patiently. He’s still inside you but hasn’t moved since you asked him to bite you and you try to concentrate on the pleasure of feeling so full. You and he are connected. It won’t hurt, he’s already told you that and you trust him. You trust him with your life. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.

“Ready?” He asks and you nod, realising he can’t see at the last minute so you let out a croaky yes, throat dry. His hands move to cup your sides, giving them a gentle squeeze, he can feel you trembling so he’s trying to ease your nerves.

He goes slowly. Nothing like you’ve seen in movies or even just imagined. He punctures the skin cleanly and groans as he has the first taste. You hardly feel a thing, akin to pin prick just more intense, and the sucking motion as he lets your blood run down his throat only heightens the pleasure. You can hear it as he swallows and you moan a little, surprising yourself. He moans back pulling away slightly to begin thrusting back into you and that’s when the euphoria becomes out of this world.

He runs his tongue along your flesh, collecting the red liquid that spills out, grunting to himself as he fucks you faster, losing himself almost, and his hands leave your body to clamp ahold of the headboard, muscles in his arms taunt, veins set to burst as he uses the leverage to go harder. You’re moaning now, loudly, spreading your legs wider, needing him as deep as he can go. You feel drunk almost, drowning in serene and you run your fingers over his chest, wanting to never let him go.

When he pulls away from your neck to look at you the sight of your blood running down his chin makes you gasp. You’ve never seen anything so beautiful and you want to kiss him. Oh, you want to kiss him so badly, it aches. His eyes are black, blown out and urgent and you guess he wants to kiss you too because before you know it, he’s on you, tongue pushing its way into your mouth and you taste the familiar metal against the muscle. It only makes you wonder what you taste like to him. By the way he’s affected, it must be good. That makes your heart swell. Especially when he begins gushing.

“You taste out of this world,” he practically moans. “Why have I waited this long to taste you?!” And this time you can’t help but giggle, feeling like you’re floating in the air. He seems mesmerised, maybe even drunk himself.

When he finally breaks free from your mouth—because you won’t let him, of course, his gaze is like fire, face serious—determined, and he begins fucking you with more force, roughly into the bed, hands still clutching the headboard as it rattles behind you. His skin glows in the moonlight and you’re in awe. He’s beautiful. Sculpted like a statue. He’s going so hard you know you’re about to come again. You can feel the familiar stretching in your stomach and you’re moaning louder and crazier, his name falling from your lips like a mantra.

“Again?” He questions, amused. His strength and stamina are more than any human and you’re finding it hard to keep up. It will take some getting used to, that’s for sure.

Before you can even think to nod he’s picking you up, his arms sweeping under your body to flip you on top of him. It’s so fast you’re out of it for a moment before realising you’re straddling him. He’s inside you and he’s sitting up too, holding your hips. You’re glad because by now you’re incredibly tired, body worn out but still chasing that pleasure you never want to burn out.

“I want to make you feel good,” he pants and you realise he’s probably nearing his release too. “So tight and wet and mine, all mine…” he rasps.

He’s fucking you faster this time, not as hard but definitely with more speed, wanting you to come around him. When he bites you the second time you’re taken by surprise, crying out. He’s rougher, snarling as he throws his head back to latch onto your left breast with vigour. Your orgasm hits you instantly, unbelievable to think that a bite could give you such immediate pleasure. It’s startling and powerful and you cry out louder, gripping onto Yoongi’s shoulders as he carries on sucking the red liquid from your flesh. It runs down your chest, you feel it trickling before it dries, and all you hear is the suckling and gulping noises that come from him as he takes you, still fucking you through your orgasm, thrusting his hips into you, bed jolting with the force.

When he fills you with his seed after a few more snaps, you feel invincible. Like nothing on this earth can harm you. You feel full, you feel sated and you could die happy.

You’re a mess when he pulls away and out of you, lying you on the bed as he hovers over your body. You’re tired, worn out, limbs aching and trembling, dried blood staining your body, but he’s healed your wounds. You only have the buzz in your veins to remind you of his marks. Like you’re high on the most wonderful drug. Min Yoongi.

“We should have a shower,” he chuckles. “You’re a mess.”

“I can’t move,” you pout, eyes half closed.

“I’ll carry you,” he quips.

And he does, strong arms wrapping around you to take you into his bathroom. You don’t remember much after that. He runs the shower, cleans you and takes you back to bed. Somewhere along the way he’s removed the soiled sheet and replaced it with a new one. The bed like new and now you’re inside, as warm as can be. Yoongi sat beside you on the edge as he runs his fingers through your damp hair—something he had tried not to get wet, but had failed miserably.

“Was I worth the wait?” He murmurs. You’re struggling to keep your eyes open but you manage to squint at him for a moment, getting him into focus.

“I want more.”

He laughs loudly at that, halting movement to push the sheet over your shoulders and tuck you in. “You’re delirious. I think I took too much blood.” He lays beside you as he speaks, burying his head in your neck. “But I couldn’t help it—you’re just too goddamn tasty,” he jokes, his voice contorting to that of a man speaking to his pet. It’s weird, doesn’t suit him, yet does at the same time. You giggle and embrace him.

“I’m not a steak.”

“Hm. That’s true. But you’re mine.”

You smile passively, too tired to give him more of a response, although your heart does feel warmer at his words. You don’t understand it, you’re just a human, so this possessive vampire talk goes over your head, but maybe deep down you should question the way his words make you feel… Not tonight though, you’re exhausted, and his bed is just too comfy to try to fight the sleep that wants you…

“I won’t be here when you wake up.”

You’re aware Yoongi’s speaking again but it’s wavering in and out of volume as you sink closer into slumber. You hum in reply. You get it, it will be daylight and he’ll be asleep himself.

“Will you stay here tomorrow, so we can spend the night together again? I’ll only be in the basement. There’s things to eat in the kitchen if you’re hungry…unless you have plans?” He adds, sounding unsure of himself, as if he’s just realised he’s babbling too much.

You reach blindly for his face, trying to find his cheek to cup with your eyes closed and when you do, you tap it reassuringly, clumsily… “I’ll stay.”

“You will?”

And you nod, literally seconds away from falling asleep. He gets that, finally, and wraps his arm around your shoulders, hugging you to him as he kisses your hair and you inhale, taking comfort in his scent; he smells like the lemon shower gel he’d used in the shower. You’ve never felt so relaxed, despite your tired and aching limbs.

He hums against your hair, squeezing you gently.

“Goodnight, sweet dreams.”

[taytay4ever]

Amid So Many Stories About Bad Men In The Media, Taylor Swift Strikes Back With ‘Reputation’

In the run-up to her sixth album, Reputation, Taylor Swift has been discussed first as a global brand, with the media analyzing her every machination and whether it has induced her possible “obsolescence,” and then as a musician. But now that this record is finally in the world, let’s start with Swift’s music for a change.

Reputation is a cold, convoluted, often surly record, heavily weighted with overly complicated prog-R&B arrangements, awkward attempts at rapping, and lyrics that underline every reference to Swift’s casual hook-ups and late-night binge-drinking. At the risk of libeling Swift’s usual stable of expensive pop-auteur collaborators — headlined by Max Martin, Shellback, and Jack Antonoff — some of the songs seem almost pasted together, with verses barging indelicately into pre-choruses as tempos shift in jarring fashion. The elegance of previous Swift blockbusters like 2012’s Red and 2014’s 1989 has gone missing.

And yet, Reputation adds up to a fascinating and often moving, self-portrait. On the biggest possible stage, Swift has fearlessly exposed some of her rawest vulnerabilities. For the first time in years, Swift seems like a rather ordinary human being, with all the unattractive flaws and nagging hang-ups that suggests.

As was the case with Reputation‘s bewildering first single, “Look What You Made Me Do,” the album is initially off-putting, as sour and difficult to like as Swift’s previous pop album, the candy-coated retro-pop showcase 1989, was sweet and catchy. Swift is nothing if not a pop-music prodigy, a seasoned hitmaker at age 27 who already displayed preternatural gifts for crafting heart-rending earworms more than a decade ago, at a time when her peers were struggling to write essays on The Great Gatsby (which Swift pointedly references on Reputation) in high school.

Swift’s franchise is creating the types of songs that people like without even trying to like them. And yet Reputation is decidedly not in that tradition — sure enough, the album’s early singles have not captured the public’s imagination the way those undeniable world-beaters of 1989 did. It seems intuitive that this represents a failure on Swift’s part. But then you dwell on this album’s lyrics, which are laced with violent imagery and obsessed with control and score-settling, and all of a sudden the turbulent, herky-jerky music makes more sense.

Reputation doesn’t fail at being likable, because being likable for once doesn’t seem to be Swift’s agenda. Rather, this album succeeds at expressing a litany of deep, intractable resentments by a world-famous pop star who seems alienated from all but a tight circle of trusted confidantes. “Here’s a toast to my real friends,” she crows on the album’s bitterest track, “This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things.” You suspect she’s not addressing more than a few people.

Who is Taylor mad at? Who do you got? No specific names are mentioned in the lyrics to Reputation, so instead there are opaque references to “older guys,” “the world,” “what I can’t have,” and “the liars.” But, above all, what haunts Taylor is the proverbial “they” — in “I Did Something Bad,” they are “burning all the witches, even if you aren’t one.” In “This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things,” Swift loves her baby because “he ain’t reading what theycall me lately.”

The songs on Reputation don’t necessarily lend themselves to the sort of “Which boyfriend is this one about?” parlor games that people usually play with Taylor Swift albums. The animus instead here feels intangible and existential, which is why Swift’s belated embrace of hip-hop, while artistically tenuous and bound to be viewed cynically by those who believe Swift is an opportunist, is such a crucial development on Reputation.

It’s easy to laugh at Swift’s stilted flow in “…Ready For It?” or puzzle at the ill-advised “street speak” of the chorus. (“I, I, I see how this is gon’ go.”) But the overt feistiness of rap allows Swift to front-load emotions that she has previously kept concealed behind frothy pop hooks and that iconic “Oh, I can’t believe my good fortune!” award-show face. “I bury hatchets, but I keep maps of where I put ’em,” Swift spits in “End Game,” which shoehorns cameos by Future and Ed Sheeran that would seem preordained by a streaming-service algorithm if Swift were more enthusiastic about streaming. (Reputation is not yet available on any streaming platform.)

Swift has written similarly barbed lyrics in the past, of course, but back then there was usually a trace of playfulness. When she refers to herself as “insane” in “Blank Space,” you can sense the self-deprecation and implied eye roll. But Reputation — aside from that stray cat joke in “Gorgeous” — is mirthless. This time, when Swift buries a hatchet, she draws blood.

Swift has been a magnet for criticism lately — some of it fair, much of it not. The media narrative has turned so rapidly against her that it’s almost hard to remember that, for much of her career, Swift was a darling of the press. As late as 2015, the New York Times was still inclined to refer to her as an “underdog,” and there were no shortage of Swift defenders in the press eager to call out perceived slights, whether it was an indie-music site not reviewing 1989 (even as virtually every other outlet on the planet lavished the album with coverage) or the sexism of Ryan Adams covering the album in its entirety.

But nobody sees Swift as an underdog in 2017. Now, she’s an establishment foil for Cardi B, whose scrappy smash “Bodak Yellow” removed “Look What You Made Me Do” from the top of the pop charts after “just” three weeks this fall. “Look What You Made Me Do” has sunk precipitously ever since, along with the followup single “…Ready For It,” which peaked at No. 4.

Certainly, it’s worth noting that these songs haven’t made the impact that singles like “Blank Space” and “Shake It Off” did. But the whispers that Swift is now finished as a pop star, as Spotify-powered rappers storm the charts seems a tad premature, given that Reputation is projected to move an impressive-in-any-era two million units in its first week.

Did anyone really expect Swift to keep on churning out 1989-sized pop bangers in perpetuity? Who faulted Beyoncé when Lemonade — which like Reputation is clearly conceived as an album rather than a playlist of singles — also didn’t produce any lasting chart hits? (The highest charting single from Lemonade, “Formation,” peaked at No. 10. At least Taylor spent the better part of a month at No. 1.)

Here’s a criticism I agree with: Swift should condemn the alt-right cult that reveres her as some sort of blonde Aryan goddess. Her apparent stubbornness on this issue is strange, considering that sending out a press release against Nazis is literally the easiest thing in the world to do. (I suspect she doesn’t deem it necessary to declare her anti-Nazi bonafides, as opposed to being reluctant to anger conservatives, a frequent charge from critics. But letting the controversy linger nonetheless is nonsensical.) However, the larger argument that Swift’s stock as a pop star has slipped because she’s maintained a largely apolitical public persona doesn’t wash.

Swift, like virtually every artist, is a narcissist. And, by and large, that’s why people like her, because when Swift sings about herself, she does it in a way that makes millions of people believe she’s actually singing about them. That is the job of a pop star. This weird insistence that a musician who has previously shown no inclination to be a political commentator must suddenly register her yay-or-nay take on Donald Trump, Black Lives Matter, or Hillary vs. Bernie says more about our displaced reverence for pop stars than it does about Swift’s supposed moral obligations.

Isn’t it possible that Taylor Swift genuinely has nothing to say on these matters? And isn’t that okay? If given the choice between performative wokeness and authentic non-engagement, I’ll take the latter, please. Besides, as we’ve seen demonstrated time and again lately, the personal is political, particularly when it comes to one of Swift’s primary subjects: The power struggles between men and women.

Reputation arrives in the midst of an ongoing moral apocalypse in the entertainment industry, in which sexual harassment and assault have been properly re-contextualized in the popular consciousness as expressions of dominance and humiliation, typically by straight white men over women. Swift herself has been victimized by this power imbalance, by a Colorado radio DJ who groped her during a station visit in 2013, when Swift was 23. (Swift won a civil suit against the DJ this summer.)

It might be hard to conceive of Swift, one of the world’s most famous women, as somehow subordinate to a faceless radio jock. But consider how country radio has suppressed women, or how chart success (which is still enabled greatly by radio airplay) has come to dominate, dubiously, how we determine relevance or even artistic merit in popular music. If the fallout from the Harvey Weinstein scandal has taught us anything, it’s that even famous women can be abused by much less famous but nonetheless well-connected men behind the scenes.

But with Reputation, I sense that Swift is finished with that. In her new songs, Swift always has the upper hand. If anyone is going to get broken, it’s the guy in the equation, who’s typically an older (and therefore patriarchal) figure. (“I’ve been breaking hearts for a long time / And toyin’ with them older guys / just playthings for me to use,” she seethes in the dirge-like “Don’t Blame Me.”) If she does decide to settle down, it’s up to the other person to accept her shortcomings, not the other way around. (“Even in my worst times, you could see the best of me,” she sings on “Dress.”) Either way, she gets to be the dominant one, the person who always gets what she wants, including the last word.

After listening to Reputation, I think I understand why Swift’s been seemingly indifferent about her recent bad PR choices, including her threat, via a lawyer, to sue a blogger who criticized her silence on the white supremacist issue. And I get why she’s retreated from the media to the comfort of her massive cult on Tumblr, an audience inclined to perceive her venting and femme-fatale posturing as cathartic, rather than merely petulant.

If Reputation had a nutgraf, it would be, “Why should I have to explain myself?” To Swift, going through the paces of tending to her “perfect” public image seemingly provokes the most resentment of all, since it only seems to make people expect even more from her. Haven’t they already taken enough?

Uproxx

[vitalmindandbody]

Tragic, fascinating, brilliant- life of’ wild child’ Zelda Fitzgerald revisited

Two films and a TV series out soon portray the life of the jazz-age novelist and spouse of F Scott Fitzgerald

She is thought of as the original wild child, a pearl-twirling party girl who died at the age of 47 after a flaming broke out in the North Carolina sanatorium where she was a patient. Now Zelda Fitzgerald, the countries of the south belle changed jazz-age protagonist, dubbed the first American flapper by her husband and partner-in-drink Scott, is to have her own Hollywood make-over two cinemas are in the pipeline and a television series will air on Amazon Prime early next year.

All three programmes have starry mentions affixed: Jennifer Lawrence will take the lead in Zelda , a biopic directed against Ron Howard and based on Nancy Milfords best-selling biography; Scarlett Johansson will bob her fuzz for The Beautiful and The Damned ; and Christina Ricci will play the young and impetuous Zelda in the Amazon series Z: The Beginning of Everything. The name of the Tv succession comes from Scotts awestruck provide comments on satisfy Zelda: I cherish her, and thats the beginning and result of everything.

So what is it about Zelda that mesmerizes virtually 70 years after her tragic intent? In persona it is that the disturbances the couple lived through find an resemble in our own hectic times.

Interest in the Fitzgeralds has definitely been on the increase not only since Baz Luhrmanns film of The Great Gatsby in 2013 but likewise from the many similarities between their lives and operate and the period were living through right now, says Sarah Churchwell, author of the critically acclaimed Careless People: Murder, Mayhem and The Invention of the Great Gatsby .

Its a floor of boom and bust and it reverberates as “weve been” grappling with our own boom and bust, our own worries about the cost of our excess and our own social loss. The lives and fates of Scott and Zelda peculiarly simulated their eras: in the 1920 s they were roaring for all they were worth, but with the crash in 1929, everything fell apart.

It helps, more, that Zelda was so vibrant a anatomy. It begins with her elegance, says Churchwell. But too with the stories told in the 1920 s about the high jinks and fun she and Scott seemed to have. Parties really liked her: she was surprising, intelligent, astute, funny and adoration a good party. She likewise liked to be the center of scrutiny, and so had her detractors too. These stuffs combined to draw her a legend.

Scott frequently returned to their relationship in his myth, most notably in his second fiction, The Beautiful and Damned , which details the heady early days of their matrimony; and his mournful fourth, Tender Is The Night , in which the gilded daydream has faded into a more tawdry world. Zeldas exclusively novel, Save Me The Waltz , presented the relationship from her side.

They were arguably Americas first luminary pairing: a carefree golden couple who wrote their practice into the spotlight, developing their own mythology of gin-soaked dates and fun-filled nighttimes, simply to persist too long once the light-footed had started to dim. Their recklessness acquires the floor exciting and stunning, says Churchwell. But they paid a the highest price.

After a few giddy times, all the boyish promise crumbled away, leaving Scott a stunned and drunk jobbing hack in Hollywood and fetching Zelda to breakdown at the age of 30, a diagnosis of schizophrenia , now widely thought to be a bipolar affective disorder, and their own lives in and out of sanatoriums.

Her story is both fascinating and unfortunates, says Therese Anne Fowler, on whose novel Z the Amazon series is based. Here we have a woman whose knacks and vigour and ability should have stirred her a brilliant success, who was determined to be an fulfilled creator, columnist and ballet dancer in an era where married maidens were supposed to be spouses and moms, interval. Her devotion to Scott was, in many ways, her undoing[ although] he was just as imprisoned as she was. Had they cherished one another less, they might both have come to better ends.

The idea of Zelda as a bright woman captured by her duration has gained traction in recent years, with a number of occupations re-evaluating her through the prism of feminism although it is not always the easiest of fits. As early as 1974, the couples daughter Scottie balk such claims, writing the purpose of which is to vistum her father as a classic put-down spouse, whose efforts to express her sort were frustrated by a typically male chauvinist spouse were not accurate.

Writing in the New Yorker in 2013, Molly Fischer concurred , mention: Saving Zelda Fitzgerald is no easy proposition …[ she] does not want to be anyones domesticated, and theres something mortifying about the literary readiness to domesticate her, to transform an irritating girl into an appealing heroine.

The new cinemas may well further Hollywoodise Zelda, sanding away her bumpy boundaries and reinventing her as a relatable heroine for our modern times. The molding of Lawrence so often described as Americas Sweetheart in the Howard biopic is no accident.

A report about the upcoming Johansson film in the Hollywood Reporter showed it would draw on previously unreleased textile to indicate that her husband misappropriated his wifes opinions as his own.

Mark Gill, chairwoman of Millennium Films, the yield companionship behind The Beautiful and The Damned , concurs : She was massively ahead of her time and she took a vanquish for it. He plagiarized her ideas and threw them in his works. The matrimony was a codependency from inferno with a jazz-age soundtrack. The movie has, nonetheless, fastened the co-operation of the Fitzgerald estate.

Fowler agrees that there is a changing predisposition to refer our own concerns to Zelda. We do anoint her as a kind of proto-feminist heroine, even though she didnt hear herself as a feminist and didnt fully replace at anything, she says. But her original reputation is based on conventional paternalistic the terms and conditions of what the status of women, father and partner ought to be and do. Her ambitions and her insistence on engaging them were considered inappropriate and unhealthy; after her psychopathic disintegrate she was literally told that this insistence had created her divide recollection and that the path to a cure lay in giving up all aspirations that didnt conform to the paternalistic ideal.

Scarlett Johansson, Jennifer Lawrence and Christina Ricci are all set to play Zelda Fitzgerald in the forthcoming products The Beautiful and the Damned, Zelda and Z: The Beginning of Everything. Composite: Getty Images

The backlash against this image is intelligible given that popular opinion of Zelda was initially driven by Ernest Hemingways notoriously caustic descriptions in A Moveable Feast , published posthumously in 1964, in which he dismissed her as insane and accused Scotts developing dependence on booze on his wife.

Our perception has very much changed, says Churchwell. We have come to sympathise with her frustration, to recognise her talents and to be more fair-minded about her selects. That said, she carefuls against attempts to create a Team Scott/ Team Zelda subdivide, as is so often the occurrence in far-famed literary partnerships. Its important to say that they always loved one another and wouldnt have appreciated parties taking surfaces Fitzgerald wrote a few years before he was dead that it was a moral responsibility that their friends understood the latter are a duo, a group and would abide that practice, even if her illness intended they couldnt live together.

Churchwell is likewise scathing about attempts to suggest Zelda had a larger role in her husbands operate than previously presumed. “Theres” those wanting to recognition Zelda with Scotts work, which is just silly and doesnt do females any preferences, she says. Its not a zero-sum activity: we are in a position recognise both of them for who they were.

Zelda had many abilities, but where writing was pertained she was probably more ill when she started to hone her knacks, and while it is true that Scott didnt especially want her to write partly out of territoriality but partly because medical doctors told him it was bad for her its too true-blue that her work isnt in the same class as his. Her individual sentences are often lovely, and she can create a mood and has clever revolves of word but her studies tend to be sketches rather than full fibs. If they had induced different options, maybe she could have been an important scribe, but the reality is that she wasnt.

Perhaps, then, the real key to Zeldas continued pull on our imagery lies not in her study but in her modernity. I dont want to live I want to adoration firstly and live incidentally, she proclaimed and it is that vitality and avarice for all of lifes knowledge, both good and bad, that extends down over the decades, granting each generation to see something new.

Z: The Beginning of Everything will air on Amazon Prime early next year

THEY SAID

I have rarely known a woman who uttered herself so delightfully and freshly: she had no ready-made words on the one handwriting and no striving for gist on the other. Critic Edmund Wilson

I fell in love with her spirit, her candour and her blaze self-respect, and its these occasions I would believe in even if countries around the world indulged in wild ideas that she wasnt all that she should be.

F Scott Fitzgerald

I did not have a single pity of insignificance, or shyness, or suspense, and no moral principles.

All I crave is to be very young ever and very irresponsible, and is of the view that my life is my own to live and be happy and succumb in my own way to please myself.

Other publics ideas of us are dependent mainly on what theyve hoped for.

Read more: www.theguardian.com

The post Tragic, fascinating, brilliant- life of’ wild child’ Zelda Fitzgerald revisited appeared first on vitalmindandbody.com.

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[vitalmindandbody]

Tragic, fascinating, bright- living for’ wild child’ Zelda Fitzgerald revisited

Two films and a Tv series out soon portray the life of the jazz-age novelist and spouse of F Scott Fitzgerald

She is thought of as the original wild child, a pearl-twirling party daughter who died at the age of 47 after a shoot breaks out in the North Carolina sanatorium where she was a patient. Now Zelda Fitzgerald, the southern belle swerved jazz-age heroine, dubbed the first American flapper by her husband and partner-in-drink Scott, is to have her own Hollywood make-over two movies are in the pipeline and a television series will air on Amazon Prime early next year.

All three projections have starry refers attached: Jennifer Lawrence will take the lead in Zelda , a biopic directed by Ron Howard and based on Nancy Milfords best-selling profile; Scarlett Johansson will bob her “hairs-breadth” for The Beautiful and The Damned ; and Christina Ricci will play young persons and impulsive Zelda in the Amazon series Z: The Beginning of Everything. The entitle of the TV sequence comes from Scotts awestruck comment on session Zelda: I cherish her, and thats the beginning and end of everything.

So what is it about Zelda that mesmerizes nearly 70 years after her heartbreaking point? In place it is that the disturbances the couple lived through find an resemble in our own stormy times.

Interest in the Fitzgeralds has definitely been on the projected increase not only since Baz Luhrmanns film of The Great Gatsby in 2013 but too from the many parallels between their lives and effort and the period were living through right now, says Sarah Churchwell, generator of the critically acclaimed Careless People: Slaying, Mayhem and The Invention of the Great Gatsby .

Its a storey of thunder and failure and it resonates as we are grappling with our own boom and failure, our own worries about the cost of our excesses and our own social loss. Human life and fortunes of Scott and Zelda peculiarly mimicked their ages: in the 1920 s they were roaring for all they were worth, but with the disintegrate in 1929, everything fell apart.

It helps, extremely, that Zelda was so vibrant a flesh. It begins with her knockout, says Churchwell. But likewise with the tales told in the 1920 s about the high jinks and fun she and Scott seemed to have. Parties really liked her: she was surprising, smart, clever, entertaining and adoration a good defendant. She too liked to be the centre of attention, and so had her detractors very. These concepts combined to reach her a legend.

Scott repeatedly returned to their relationship in his fiction, most notably in his second tale, The Beautiful and Damned , which details the heady early days of their matrimony; and his doleful fourth, Tender Is The Night , in which the gilded fantasy has faded into a more tawdry world. Zeldas only novel, Save Me The Waltz , presented the relationship from her side.

They were arguably Americas first fame pairing: a carefree golden duo who wrote their method into the spotlight, making their own myth of gin-soaked days and fun-filled nights, merely to dawdle too long formerly the light-footed had started to dim. Their recklessness represents the tale exciting and dramatic, says Churchwell. But they paid a the highest price.

After a few giddy years, all the youthful hope deteriorated away, leaving Scott a stupefied and drunk jobbing hack in Hollywood and introducing Zelda to breakdown at the age of 30, a diagnosis of schizophrenia , now widely thought to be a bipolar affective disorder, and their own lives in and out of sanatoriums.

Her story is both fascinating and lamentables, says Therese Anne Fowler, on whose novel Z the Amazon series is based. Here we have a woman whose aptitudes and energy and intellect “shouldve been” prepared her a brilliant success, who was determined to be an fulfilled master, scribe and ballet dancer in an era where married girls were supposed to be spouses and moms, interval. Her devotion to Scott was, in many ways, her undoing[ although] he was just as imprisoned as she was. Had they adoration each other less, they are likely both have come to better ends.

The idea of Zelda as a bright lady captured by her duration has gained traction in recent years, with a number of projects re-evaluating her through the prism of feminism although it is not always the most wonderful of fits. As early as 1974, the couples daughter Scottie resisted such pretensions, writing the purpose of which is to viewpoint her father as a classic put-down wife, whose efforts to express her quality were thwarted by a commonly male chauvinist pig partner were not accurate.

Writing in the New Yorker in 2013, Molly Fischer agreed , note: Saving Zelda Fitzgerald is no easy overture …[ she] does not want to be anyones pet, and theres something disconcerting about the literary readiness to domesticate her, to change an infuriating wife into an appealing heroine.

The brand-new cinemas may well further Hollywoodise Zelda, sanding away her bumpy borders and reinventing her as a relatable protagonist for our modern times. The casting of Lawrence so often described as Americas Sweetheart in the Howard biopic is no accident.

A report about the upcoming Johansson film in the Hollywood Reporter proposed it would draw on previously unreleased material to indicate that her husband embezzled his wifes notions as his own.

Mark Gill, chairwoman of Millennium Films, the yield company behind The Beautiful and The Damned , concurs : She was massively ahead of her period and she took a lash for it. He stole her ideas and employed them in his notebooks. The marriage was a codependency from blaze with a jazz-age soundtrack. The movie has, however, fastened the co-operation of the Fitzgerald estate.

Fowler agrees that there is a flourishing bent to pertain our own concerns to Zelda. We do anoint her as a kind of proto-feminist protagonist, even though she didnt investigate herself as a feminist and didnt fully succeed at anything, she says. But her original honour is based on conventional paternalistic the terms and conditions of what the status of women, mother and spouse ought to be and do. Her aspirations and her demand on prosecuting them were considered inappropriate and undesirable; after her psychopathic disintegrate she was literally told that this insistence had created her split psyche and that the path to a panacea lay in giving up all passions that didnt conform to the paternalistic ideal.

Scarlett Johansson, Jennifer Lawrence and Christina Ricci are all set to play Zelda Fitzgerald in the forthcoming makes The Beautiful and the Damned, Zelda and Z: The Beginning of Everything. Composite: Getty Images

The backlash against this image is comprehensible given that popular opinion of Zelda was initially driven by Ernest Hemingways notoriously corrosive descriptions in A Moveable Feast , publicized posthumously in 1964, in which he dismissed her as insane and accused Scotts changing dependence on alcohol on his wife.

Our perception has very much changed, says Churchwell. We have come to sympathise with her resentment, to recognise her knacks and to be more fair-minded about her choices. That said, she precautions against attempts to create a Team Scott/ Team Zelda fraction, as is so often the lawsuit in famed literary partnerships. Its important to say that they ever cherished one another and wouldnt have appreciated beings taking backs Fitzgerald wrote a few years before he was dead that it was a moral imperative that their friends understood they were a pair, a section and would remain that space, even if her illness aim they couldnt live together.

Churchwell is too scathing about attempts to suggest Zelda had a larger role in her husbands cultivate than previously presumed. There are those wanting to ascribe Zelda with Scotts work, which is just silly and doesnt do wives any promotions, she says. Its not a zero-sum recreation: we can recognise both of them for who they were.

Zelda had numerous abilities, but where writing was concerned she was probably too ill when she started to hone her knacks, and while it is true that Scott didnt particularly want her to write partly out of territoriality but partly because her doctors told him it was bad for her its too true-blue that her work isnt in the same class as his. Her individual convicts are often lovely, and she can create a climate and has clever alters of phrase but her works tend to be sketches rather than full tales. If they had realized different alternatives, perhaps she could have been an important writer, but the reality is that she wasnt.

Perhaps, then, the true key to Zeldas prolonged pull on our imagination lies not in her wreak but in her modernity. I dont live their lives I want to cherish firstly and live incidentally, she exclaimed and it is that vigor and gluttony for all of lifes suffers, both both good and bad, that extends down over the decades, giving each generation to see something new.

Z: The Beginning of Everything will air on Amazon Prime early next year

THEY SAID

I have rarely known the status of women who carried herself so delightfully and freshly: she had no ready-made terms on the one mitt and no striving for impression on the other. Critic Edmund Wilson

I fell in love with her gallantry, her seriousnes and her flaming self-respect, and its these events I would believe in even if the whole world gratified in wild surmises that she wasnt all that she should be.

F Scott Fitzgerald

I did not have a single impression of inferiority, or shyness, or suspense, and no moral principles.

All I miss is to be very young ever and very irresponsible, and to feel that my life is my own to live and be happy and croak in my own lane to delight myself.

Other publics ideas of us are dependent largely on what theyve hoped for.

Read more: www.theguardian.com

The post Tragic, fascinating, bright- living for’ wild child’ Zelda Fitzgerald revisited appeared first on vitalmindandbody.com.

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[vitalmindandbody]

Tragic, fascinating, bright- living for’ wild child’ Zelda Fitzgerald revisited

Two films and a Tv series out soon portray the living standards of the jazz-age scribe and wife of F Scott Fitzgerald

She is thought of as the original wild child, a pearl-twirling party girl who died at the age of 47 after a burn broke out in the North Carolina sanatorium where she was a patient. Now Zelda Fitzgerald, the southern belle made jazz-age protagonist, dubbed the first American flapper by her husband and partner-in-drink Scott, is to have her own Hollywood make-over two movies are in the pipeline and a television series will air on Amazon Prime early next year.

All three activities have starry refers fastened: Jennifer Lawrence will take the lead in Zelda , a biopic directed against Ron Howard and based on Nancy Milfords best-selling biography; Scarlett Johansson will bob her hair for The Beautiful and The Damned ; and Christina Ricci will play the young and impetuous Zelda in the Amazon series Z: The Beginning of Everything. The deed of the Tv serial comes from Scotts awestruck provide comments on fulfill Zelda: I cherish her, and thats the beginning and terminate of everything.

So what is it about Zelda that mesmerizes almost 70 years after her lamentable terminate? In part it is that the agitations the couple lived through find an resemble in our own tumultuous times.

Interest in the Fitzgeralds has definitely been on the projected increase is not simply since Baz Luhrmanns film of The Great Gatsby in 2013 but likewise from the many latitudes between their lives and cultivate and the period were living through right now, says Sarah Churchwell, generator of the critically acclaimed Careless Beings: Assassinate, Mayhem and The Invention of the Great Gatsby .

Its a narrative of thunder and failure and it resonates as we are grappling with our own boom and failure, our own worries about the costs of our plethoras and our own social outages. The lives and lucks of Scott and Zelda peculiarly simulated their periods: in the 1920 s the latter are roaring for all they were worth, but with the disintegrate in 1929, everything fell apart.

It helps, too, that Zelda was so vibrant a figure. It begins with her beauty, says Churchwell. But likewise with the fibs told in the 1920 s about the high jinks and fun she and Scott seemed to have. Parties really liked her: she was surprising, smart, shrewd, funny and desired a good defendant. She also liked to be the center of notice, and so had her detractors very. These happens combined to reach her a legend.

Scott repeatedly returned to their relationship in his story, most notably in his second novel, The Beautiful and Damned , which details the heady early days of their marriage; and his sorrowful fourth, Tender Is The Night , in which the gilded reverie has faded into a more tawdry reality. Zeldas simply novel, Save Me The Waltz , presented the relationship from her side.

They were arguably Americas first fame pairing: a carefree golden duet who wrote their behavior into the spotlight, creating their own mythology of gin-soaked periods and fun-filled darkness, merely to remain too long formerly the light-headed to begin to dim. Their recklessness moves the narration exciting and drastic, says Churchwell. But they paid a the highest price.

After a few giddy times, all the youthful predict crumbled away, leaving Scott a stunned and drunk jobbing hacker in Hollywood and introducing Zelda to breakdown at the age of 30, a diagnosis of schizophrenia , now widely thought to be a bipolar illness, and a life in and out of sanatoriums.

Her story is both fascinating and appallings, says Therese Anne Fowler, on whose novel Z the Amazon series is based. Here we have a woman whose expertises and vitality and ability should have shaped her a bright success, who was determined to be an attained master, novelist and ballet dancer in an age where married wives were supposed to be brides and moms, age. Her devotion to Scott was, in many ways, her undoing[ although] he was just as imprisoned as she was. Had they adored each other less, they are likely both have come to better ends.

The idea of Zelda as a bright girl trapped by her day has gained traction in recent years, with a number of projects re-evaluating her through the prism of feminism although it is not always the easiest of fits. As early as 1974, the couples daughter Scottie refused such assertions, writing the purpose of which is to view her mother as a classic put-down spouse, whose efforts to express her nature were thwarted by a often male chauvinist husband were no longer accurate.

Writing in the New Yorker in 2013, Molly Fischer agreed , observe: Saving Zelda Fitzgerald is no easy proposition …[ she] does not want to be anyones domesticated, and theres something embarrassing about the literary readiness to domesticate her, to change an exasperating woman into an appealing heroine.

The new cinemas may well further Hollywoodise Zelda, sanding away her rough peripheries and reinventing her as a relatable heroine for our modern times. The molding of Lawrence so often described as Americas Sweetheart in the Howard biopic is no accident.

A report about the upcoming Johansson film in the Hollywood Reporter indicated it would draw on previously unreleased substance to indicate that her husband stole his wifes thoughts as his own.

Mark Gill, chairperson of Millennium Films, the yield busines behind The Beautiful and The Damned , concurs : She was massively ahead of her time and she took a flogging for it. He embezzled her ideas and threw them in his works. The marriage was a codependency from hell with a jazz-age soundtrack. The film has, nonetheless, locked the co-operation of the Fitzgerald estate.

Fowler agrees that there is a thriving partiality to refer our own concerns to Zelda. We do anoint her as a kind of proto-feminist heroine, even though she didnt learn herself as a feminist and didnt amply replace at anything, she says. But her original reputation is based on conventional paternalistic the terms and conditions of what the status of women, father and spouse ought to be and do. Her aspirations and her insistence on prosecuting them were considered inappropriate and unhealthy; after her psychotic escape she was literally told that this insistence had created her separate memory and that the path to a dry lay in giving up all desires that didnt conform to the paternalistic ideal.

Scarlett Johansson, Jennifer Lawrence and Christina Ricci are all set to play Zelda Fitzgerald in the forthcoming makes The Beautiful and the Damned, Zelda and Z: The Beginning of Everything. Composite: Getty Images

The backlash against this image is understandable bearing in mind the fact that popular opinion of Zelda was initially driven by Ernest Hemingways notoriously corrosive descriptions in A Moveable Feast , wrote posthumously in 1964, in which he rejected her as insane and accused Scotts ripening dependence on glas on his wife.

Our perception has very much changed, says Churchwell. We have come to sympathise with her frustration, to recognise her endowments and has become still more fair-minded about her alternatives. That said, she precautions against attempts to create a Team Scott/ Team Zelda segment, as is so often the subject in famed literary partnerships. Its important to say that they always desired one another and wouldnt have appreciated people taking sides Fitzgerald wrote a few years before he died that it was a moral imperative that their friends understood the latter are a duo, a unit and would stay that style, even if her illness connote they couldnt live together.

Churchwell is also scathing about attempts to suggest Zelda had a larger role in her husbands cultivate than previously presumed. There are people who want to credit Zelda with Scotts work, which is just silly and doesnt do dames any promotes, she says. Its not a zero-sum tournament: we are in a position recognise both of them for who they were.

Zelda had numerous aptitudes, but where writing was concerned she was probably more ill when she started to sharpen her endowments, and while it is true that Scott didnt specially want her to write partly out of territoriality but partly because her doctors told him it was bad for her its likewise true-life that her work isnt in the same class as his. Her individual convicts are often lovely, and she can create a mood and has clever swerves of word but her undertakings tend to be sketches rather than full storeys. If they had constructed different picks, perhaps she could have been an important writer, but the reality is that she wasnt.

Perhaps, then, the true key to Zeldas sustained pull on our resource lies not in her operate but in her modernity. I dont want to live I want to desire first and live incidentally, she proclaimed and it is that vigor and avarice for all of lifes experiences, both both good and bad, that stretches down over the decades, earmarking each generation to see something new.

Z: The Beginning of Everything will air on Amazon Prime early next year

THEY SAID

I have rarely known the status of women who expressed herself so delightfully and freshly: she had no ready-made terms on the one handwriting and no striving for result on the other. Critic Edmund Wilson

I fell in love with her fortitude, her sincerity and her flame self-respect, and its these happens I would believe in even if countries around the world gratified in wild ideas that she wasnt all that she should be.

F Scott Fitzgerald

I did not have a single pity of insignificance, or shyness, or disbelieve, and no moral principles.

All I crave is to be very young ever and very irresponsible, and to feel that my life is my own to live and be happy and die in my own practice to delight myself.

Other people ideas of us are dependent predominantly on what theyve hoped for.

Read more: www.theguardian.com

The post Tragic, fascinating, bright- living for’ wild child’ Zelda Fitzgerald revisited appeared first on vitalmindandbody.com.

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[disease-danger-darkness-silence]

I've been involved in fandom since the early to mid 90s and ever since kids started using the Internet, this is going around a LOT. Back then only adults could afford fanzines, merch, cosplaying, and internet access. It was expensive and you had to have a disposable income that summer jobs and after-school jobs just didn't provide. Every now and then you'd get some pearl-clutching but mostly we were all here to write whatever the fuck we wanted. We gave content warnings and then it was up to the reader to decide whether they wanted to read it - kind of like how it's up to the reader to choose whether or not to read a real book.

Burning a book because you disagree with its content is almost universally understood to be bad. We read Mien Kampf in order to recognize fascist ideology (something some of you could fucking use an education on, by the way). We read Lolita to understand what an abusive scenario can look like (and the ways horrible people justify horrible actions on their part). We read The Perks of Being a Wallflower to understand our own trauma and how memories don't really repress, so much as change as a defense mechanism. We read The Great Gatsby to understand how obsession can so easily be mistaken as love, and will inevitably destroy you (and also to learn the basics of how to say FUCK CAPITALISM).

You can say that sure, but this is just fanfiction. My dudes, I am almost 40 and I have completely changed my world, multiple times, because fanfic made me think about shit that I hadn't previously.

So... Yeah. Think about why you think a story can't contain (insert forbidden subject here) and still have value. Lolita has pedophilia, Wallflower has molestation of a male character, Mien Kampf is quite literally written by Adolf fucking Hitler, and The Great Gatsby glorifies self-harm and delusion and obsession. And there's important, valuable shit in all of them.

I once accidentally read a (badly tagged) wincest fic (actually Team Free Love but it was just tagged destiel and sabriel), and while I didn't particularly enjoy that bit, the nature of love and loss and death and life in that fic has resonated in me for almost a goddamn decade. And I'm not exactly stupid.

So yeah. I'm not saying go read shit that squicks you. I'm saying, really consider why you're banning certain topics, and then getting angry when people decide that this is lovely, you have fun, but we're gonna go play over here instead.

No need to reply if you don't want to. I just wanted to express my support for boycotting censored fanwork exchanges. I guess I'm Old School and this is the first I've heard of content restrictions. Boggles my mind, that's what tags are for.

I didn’t even intend this to be a crusade or boycott or anything, I was just truly horrified and dismayed by the fact that there seems to be this new idea in fandom that heavy, subjective censorship is the default way to be inclusive.

Like, that’s the worst part-- the EBB people seem to genuinely think I and those who agree with me are on this weird crusade to force them to look at our trash. I’ve honestly had overwhelmingly positive responses but the occasional outliers are just frothing about the-- here’s the thing, I chose to summarize my fic to make it clear what kind of content I wanted to create, which I was fairly certain was what that exchange was actually looking for (I am not a darkfic or trashfic writer! No shade, that’s just not what I do), and the responses are like “ew her gross scat rape fic” and that is so clearly something they’re bringing with them to this, and I don’t know where they got it.

(Genuinely, I know some trashfic writers-- I’d fallen out of touch! 2020′s been dark! I don’t even read that stuff lately! but in these dark times we need to rekindle connections sometimes-- and I can’t think of a single one who’s into writing scat. It’s a weird, weird fixation, which does not originate within the trashfic community, I promise you.)

There is this wide, deep movement within our culture in general and fannish culture specifially that is wildly pro-censorship. It’s a kind of Purity Culture creep that’s startling, to those of us who’ve been here a while, and is just the latest wave of the Strikethrough bullshit. What’s stunning is how deeply mired within fannish spaces it has become; all kinds of people I’d blithely assumed were generally common-sensical are up in arms over this and are clearly not reacting to what’s actually been said, but what it’s said has been said, which--

I don’t even know who the mods of the EBB are? I don’t hang out on Discord servers generally and that seems to be where the younger set does its wheeling and dealing, though I’m not sure even of that. I only know what’s been publicly posted on Tumblr and even that, only what’s been reblogged into my sphere, so I have no idea who’s actually said what, but as far as I can tell, the drama is entirely that they feel attacked by this.

I’m not attacking anyone. I wrote that entire post inwardly-directed; I feel excluded, I am sad to be excluded, I am upset at this bizarre trend. I didn’t want to attack anyone, and I’m not even interested in drama.

But I definitely felt that if we can’t put our feet down against pointless self-censorship (don’t like don’t read is a phrase as old as fandom and if we lose that we lose ourselves) in an extremely adult-oriented fandom, then we’ve lost the beachhead entirely. 

Censorship is NOT normal. It is NOT normal and no, not everyone’s going to just “know what you mean” when you say “no dead dove”. (IIRC Dead Dove actually really just means “tagged thoroughly and accurately”, though my source on that is, you know, watching the meme develop, so maybe The Kids use it differently now, but I do feel like the original meaning’s kind of important.) No, appealing directly to the mods to review every story concept is not sustainable or fair or NORMAL it is NOT NORMAL. That is not how ANYTHING works. That is a new change. 

It’s a slippery slope, and I genuinely don’t want to hurt people’s feelings about it but oh my GOD no. This is an 18+ canon, and you cannot POSSIBLY run a general-interest event that you censor MORE STRICTLY THAN CANON and then have the absolute blind nerve to say this is “for inclusivity”.