#it's very indicative of her writing the movie from a totally fictionalized place i think

[whiskeyswifty]

that recent quote where she's talking about Down Bad where she says "And so the girl in the song..." hit me like a brick. if you've been around for a long time, you know that she always talks about her songs from the first person, saying "I was feeling that day..." or "That's what I did..." and the only exceptions are folklore/evermore where she explicitly said they were exercises in fiction. most of the time she both is writing confessionally and is openly talking about that. and this pinged for me as such a glimpse into how her writing process has shifted a bit. i mean she's always been hyperbolic and embellished or dramatized things to make a better story, yeah of course. but it was still her spelling out her own experiences and then discussing them as such in the press or what have you. it sounds like now there is "a girl in the song" and with that remove, she's able to detach herself from her own experience and maybe that helps her move on as well and not be so precious about it. idk, it was just such a shocking thing to hear her say, knowing this is a typical confessional album from her. really really fascinating that the girls in her songs are not necessarily herself anymore in her own mind, not even after the fact but perhaps as she's writing them.

[the-sappho-of-lesbos]

Hi, I'm doing a drama piece soon set in the 1980s wherein my character is a college aged lesbian who plays a lot of sports. Was wondering if you had any good ideas for costuming as there's a short bit where they talk about the character and saying that it's clear from her clothing that she's a lesbian (in a good way as she's trying to aks another girl out). I was thinking of maybe getting some vintage pins if I can find some but wasn't really sure what else just screams 1980s sporty lesbian. Hope that makes sense and I don't mean to put any pressure on you, I just know you often post vintage lesbian content which I just love and wondered if you may have any suggestions! x

That’s so exciting!!! I’m sure it will be an amazing read :)

Now I’m Australian so I just wanted to clarify that because I’m sure there are slight differences in experiences aha. But I went through some of my books and I found some photos of clothing and letters and feminist ideas from around the 1980s and the 1970s (I figure if she is in college in the 80s she would be have been old enough in the 70s to be potentially be shaped by what happened there). Just to give you an idea of the atmosphere!

Also , there is an Australian gay male movie called Holding The Man , obviously it’ll be a bit different since it’s about gay men and set in Australia, BUT, it is based on a true story and goes through the different time periods of these men, some of which also include the grater lgbt community. In high school one of the boys is also very into sports so it might be interesting to watch for that perspective as well. Honestly as soon as I got this ask the sports scenes from that movie where the first thing that popped into my head aha. (Just a heads up though the movie has a sad ending and deals with triggering content such as the aids crisis , homophobia and hate crimes ). It is one of my all time favourite movies though.

Also! With some of the things I’m about to post the working might be a funny. I’m not saying one way or the other about it I’m just showing it to highlight some of the ideas around that time! :)

So from what I can see a strong feminist scene was around this time in the community and ideas around what made a lesbian - (I’d recommend looking up the Lesbian Sex Wars - it delves more into the sociopolitical side of it) and I know politics becomes a bigger thing when you are at that college age. In saying that that absolutely not all lesbians would have participated in that or been involved with those types of movements or beliefs. I could be totally wrong (so take this with a grain of salt lol) but from what I have read it would seem the most “flagging” was done either in very feminist/political based spaces OR in the bar scene spaces. That’s where you would typically get lesbians wearing certain things or using certain terms to indicate their camps or political beliefs and or sexual positions and beliefs. So if you have someone who doesn’t partake in that and is just more of a lesbian in sexuality alone and not how she expresses her sexuality, you might find more women not doing those things. So I guess how much you want to include in that aspect solely depends on the type of character you want !

I can’t name any off the top of my head but maybe I good place to start would also be to read lesbian fiction that was written during the 80s - that way you might get more of an authentic look at how things in the community operated! Because I am by no means an expert on any of this stuff.

In saying that it’s also fiction!! So just have fun and write about women making out aha.

I hope this was able to help a little bit! Good luck with your story!! I have no doubt it will be amazing.

I hope you have a wonderful day 💕💕

[hyuckssunchip]

Reputation

Pairings: Johnny x Reader, ft. nct 127

Words: 4.3K

Warnings: Language (there is almost always language in my writings), angst, some fluff

Request:  Angst 42 and 48 ➵ “You promised.” “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t leave.” / @jungcherie​

(im so sorry i took so long.... i turned a drabble into a story... oops)​

Johnny Suh had a reputation that was unmatched.

There was no other way to put it.

And a reputation like his left trails of tears.

A pool of tears that you were currently drowning in.

It was obvious Johnny was dangerous, perhaps that’s why you were drawn to him. While every single one of your instincts had you fighting and rejecting him, you were desperate for him all the more.

It was March 13th that you lost your first will.

“Y/N, right?”

You turned around to find a familiar face towering over you.

“Yeah.” 

It was that stupid smile that had you. 

“Hey, we have have Communications together. I was wondering if you wanted to do that project together?” He scratched the back of his neck like he was embarrassed. “I just know that you’re insanely smart so... Sorry, wait, that sounds like I’m just talking to you for your grades.”

You giggled nervously, a habit that you did when you were uncomfortable.

“Look, I just... do you? You know, wanna do the project together? I mean, I’m a pretty smooth talker so I can do the presentation. I get good grades too...”

Stupid smile.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. There’s actually a little party at my frat tonight, you maybe wanna come? Get to know each other before we drown in work?” 

Fucking stupid smile.

“Yeah. I’d like that.” You blushed at the idea, cursing at yourself for being so obvious. 

Parties weren’t really your thing. 

But at the time Johnny Suh was.

Your ears were pounding because of the insanely loud level the music was at. You were actually shocked that no one had called the cops with a noise complaint, but the fact that they were on frat row made more sense.

“Y/N. You made it.” A arm was flung over your shoulder and, thankfully the lights were both dim and flashing enough that he couldn’t see the way that you blushed at the action.

“Yeah. Is it always this loud?” You asked, still not so comfortable with the atmosphere.

“What?” Johnny yelled, pointing at his ear, indicating that he couldn’t hear you. Of course he fucking couldn’t. Then he jerked his thumb to the right, nodding at the backyard, which was seemingly empty.

With his hand placed on your back, he guided you outside, your head already thanking him from the escape of noise pollution. It was far better outside of the house.

The two of you collapsed onto the swinging chair, sighing as you cleared your head.

“So parties aren’t really your thing?” Johnny leaned closer, noting the look of relief that you had donned the moment you exited.

“It’s not that I hate them... I’m just not a fan. I mean a bunch of sweaty, horny drunk people grinding on each other. I just like smaller things.” You explained, staring up at the dark sky, shivering slightly at the cool breeze.

“You didn’t have to come.” Johnny suddenly looked guilty, “I didn’t mean to force you into coming, I just... thought I’d invite you.”

You quickly backtracked, “No, you didn’t force me. If I didn’t want to come, I wouldn’t have.” You ignored the voice in the back of your head that begged to differ.

“Right.” He grinned, as if he could read your mind. “You’re not great at lying, but I’m gonna pretend that I believe you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“Were you playing beer pong?” You asked suddenly, causing him to look at you in confusion.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

You laughed, looking away from him, “You have quite the reputation Mr. Suh, even someone like me knows the extent of your skills.”

Johnny smirked, liking how easy you were making it for him. “Is that so? Is that the only skill of mine you’ve heard about?”

You raised your eyebrows, hating the turn that your mind took. “W-what kind of other skills did you have in mind?” You stuttered out.

Suddenly it felt like you were caged in, his arms tense around your frame, causing you to lean back against the back of the swing.

“Tell me what you’ve heard.” 

You averted your eyes, unable to take his heavy gaze. His eyes had turned dark, full of lust, and you tried desperately to forget the effect they were having on you.

As if sensing how uncomfortable you were getting, he backed off, dusting off some invisible dirt on his shoulder. He cocked his head to the side with a sly smile, happy with a new challenge. 

Things weren’t going to be as easy as he thought they were, but that’s what made it fun.

“No that’s so stupid. Are you kidding me? Robin could absolutely never beat Batman. Is that even a question?” Your hands were waving animately, far too much for an argument about fictional superheroes.

“Sure. I’m just saying that Robin could totally catch him off guard, like out of the blue, you know.” Johnny slurped on his drink shrugging his shoulders like he didn’t care. 

“No. Absolutely not. First of all Robin doesn’t have the guts to do something like that and second of all Robin doesn’t have any powers. How on Earth would he beat him?”

“Umm... Batman doesn’t have powers either.” He made a duh face at you, which you chose to ignore.

“Yeah, well he’s got money, and that’s basically a super power.”

“Let’s be real, Batman isn’t even really a real superhero. He’s just a hero. Period.” 

You huffed, rolling your eyes at the argument. “That’s a whole different story.”

“I’m just saying.” He sang back teasingly.

“And I’m just saying that this is stupid. How did we even get here?” You laughed, trying to remember how this conversation came about.

“Uh, you made the bold choice of saying that the Batman vs. Superman movie was shit. Very controversial by the way.” He frowned at the memory.

You let your bag fall heavily on the library table, earning you a few glares as studying students dug into their books.

You sent an apologetic look before sliding into your seat. “Let’s just get this presentation done. Our presentation date is the 23rd and I don’t even have a clue of what to write it on.”

“Well the topic is influencers that change your life. Do you have anyone in mind?”He asked, flipping through his notebook, which didn’t really have anything but drawings in them.

“Not really, is there anyone for you? I mean influencer is kind of vague isn’t it? We could pick like an athlete too, or a musician. Those are technically influencers right?”

He nodded, resting his chin on his hand. “Yeah. Influencers don’t even have to be famous do they? Like they can just be someone in your life that made a huge impact on you. Like your parents or something.”

“Yeah, I guess. But that’s kind of hard when you’re working in groups. Like you’re not gonna want to talk about my grandma, you know. Like you don’t even know her. It’s probably just easier to use a famous icon.”

“Okay, so who?” He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling like it would give him inspiration. 

“Hmmm... maybe we could do someone like Michael Jackson. Like he may not have affected us personally, but he affected the way that the music and performance was seen afterwards. That’s influential and life changing right?”

“I guess.” He cocked his head, “We could at least start with brainstorming ideas for him and then if we feel like it’s not working we can change it.”

“Cool. I guess we can start with that then.”

And you did. You spent every afternoon for the next week and half with each other in the library, and a little more outside of it.

“That one’s the big dipper.” 

You grinned following his finger, but had more difficulty finding exactly what he saw. 

“How do you know it’s not the little dipper?” You teased, squinting in to the dark, the scattered stars really just looking like paint splatters to you.

“Because that’s the little dipper.” He laughed, moving his index finger slightly to the right.

“Oh.” 

Johnny leaned back into your space, smiling at you look of concentration quickly falling as you gave up.

“Where’s the North Star?” You asked turning to face him, but sucking in a harsh breath when you found your nose just centimeters from his. 

Johnny lowered his voice, whispering and pointing without even turning away, “Right there, it’s the tail of the little dipper.”

It took more effort than you thought to pull away, eyes searching for it.

He leaned back, resting his body weight on his hands. “See it? It’s the brightest one.”

“No,” You pouted scooting forward, as if that would help you see it. “Oh, wait! I see it!”

Johnny couldn’t stop himself from grinning as he saw your face light up.

“Wow.” Suddenly your tone turned more mellow, still in awe. “I’ve always wanted to find the North Star.”

Johnny’s chest rumbled with laughter. “Why?”

“Well you know. They say if you get lost, just follow the North Star home.” You turned to face him, eyes sparkling with excitement, but the sound of your voice had gone quiet, almost somber. The smile on your face faded into a sad smile as you all but whispered your next words. “Now I can go home.”

Johnny frowned next to you, not liking the sudden turn in mood. He sat up, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you against his chest.

“What makes you think that you’re not home right now?” He mumbled on the top of your head, staring straight out in the dark.

“I don’t know. I can just feel it, you know? Like I’m just constantly uneasy.” You sighed, digging your face into his jacket. “I think I’ll be able to tell when I get there.”

There was something in Johnny’s chest that suddenly ached, and he felt a sharp drop in his stomach at the thought.

“Maybe you’ll only ever know once you’ve left home.” He muttered, “Then you’ll know that this is actually what it feels like, and it’s so much worse when you leave.”

You stilled against him for a moment before relaxing, mulling over the thought. “That’s so sad though. Why do we only know we’re happy once we’re sad?”

Johnny shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. Why does God make us hurt to only to help us heal?”

The sound of the wind passing through trees was the only thing that comforted you at the thought.

“I don’t want to have to heal, I don’t want to hurt in the first place.” You whisper out, feeling the most vulnerable you had in a long time.

“I’ll never hurt you.” He rubbed at your arms soothingly, feeling a lump in the back of his throat, but he pushed it away not liking the unfamiliar feeling.

“Promise?”

“Of course.”

You let your eyes fall, enjoying just the silence and comfort of each other’s arms and minds.

You woke up wrapped in Johnny’s arms, although it was an unfamiliar feeling you welcomed it with open arms. 

Lost in your thoughts for the time being you were suddenly reminded of the conversation you had a couple nights ago. 

Was this home?

You had never felt so safe before and it scared you. But you weren’t one to run.

“Good morning.” Johnny mumbled out beside you, his morning voice raspy to the ear.

“Morning.” You whispered back, letting his arm flop over your waist.

“Do you like pancakes?” He asked, letting his eyes fall close again.

“Pancakes?” 

“Yeah. Taeyong makes some bomb ass pancakes.” 

You giggled, “Yeah, I like pancakes. Especially bomb ass pancakes.”

But he didn’t move and it was only after you tapped him questioningly did he speak up. “Do you think he’ll bring them up if I yell loud enough?”

You smacked his chest. “Stop it. We should go down.”

“In a bit.” He answered, nose buried deep in the crevice of your neck.

A few minutes later you heard the clinking of kitchen tools from downstairs and you stirred. “Johnny?”

“Hmmm...”

“Johnny. Let’s go.”

“Five more minutes.” He mumbled, but he let you out of his grasp anyways.  

“Fine. I’ll meet you downstairs.” You paused as you passed by the mirror, eyes tracing over the marks on your neck that Johnny had left the night before. You blushed, realizing that you didn’t have anything to cover it up with, but quickly moved on, attempting to find your shorts that were discarded in the frenzy of last night.

“Check under the desk.” Johnny said, sitting up and watching you.

Sure enough that’s where they were, although you weren’t really sure how they managed to get there. 

You shrugged on the last of your clothes, turning to find Johnny doing the same. It took him less than three steps to get to you, landing a soft kiss on the top of your head. 

“Let’s go.”

Taeyong was undoubtedly the closest of Johnny’s frat brothers to you. He had this really calming and sweet aura about him that just made you want to be friends. 

“Good morning Y/N. Blueberry or chocolate?” He asked grinning as he took his eyes off the pan for a second. 

“Blueberry please.” You slid onto the bar across from him. “Do you need any help?”

Johnny rubbed your lower back comfortingly, “No, you don’t want to get in his way. That’s when he loses his temper.” He whispered the last bit to you, but Taeyong obviously heard it, sending a sharp glare at him.

“Only when there are incompetent people in my kitchen.” Taeyong muttered back.

Johnny ignored the comment, shaking his head at you, “I’ll have chocolate.”

“You’ll get what you get.” Taeyong piped at him, still not over Johnny’s teasing, who grinned in response. 

Both of them knew that Johnny was getting chocolate, Taeyong was really bad at being mean.

“Where’s the others?” Johnny asked, sipping on a cup of coffee.

“At school, as they should be because they are college students.” Taeyong answered, sliding a plate towards you. “Enjoy.”

You thanked him and bit into a piece, almost moaning at the taste. “Damn, Johnny told me they were good but I didn’t think it would be this good.”

Johnny swiped a piece from your plate. “What are you talking about? I told you he made bomb ass pancakes.” 

Taeyong slid a plate towards Johnny.

His grin widened. “Thank you. You’re my favorite Taeyong ever.”

“I’m the only Taeyong you know.” He put his hands on his hips. “I should be the favorite.”

Johnny sent a wink in his direction before stabbing a piece. 

“So I was thinking, that little bakery next to the park, do you wanna go? They just opened and I’ve been dying to try it.” Johnny asked around a mouthful of pancake.

“Yeah, sure. That sounds good.” You felt your stomach flutter, you were sure whether it was the pancakes or Johnny, but you had a pretty good guess. 

“Sweet, we can swing by your place first if you want to get a change of clothes or something.” 

You nodded, “Yeah, sounds good.”

“I’m glad that sounds good.” He teased you with a smile.

“Sorry, but it just sounds good. What else do you want me to say?” You pushed back, opting to add another piece into your mouth.

“I don’t know, maybe-”

“Okay, sorry to interrupt your little flirt fest, but can you start that after I leave?” Taeyong asked, making a few pancakes for himself.

“Sorry.” You giggled, sending him a genuine apologetic look.

“I’m not sorry.” Johnny said, shrugging.

You smacked him lightly.

“I’ll take away pancake privileges for a month.” Taeyong quipped, focusing on flipping the pancake.

“Sorry.” Johnny mumbled out under his breath, not one to admit defeat easily.

You laughed at the sight of a pouty Johnny, enjoying the view for the time being.

Waiting for Johnny had become a routine, but honestly you didn’t really mind it. Hanging out on the couch, you had met and befriended quite a few of his frat brothers. 

Currently you were sprawled out on the couch with Jungwoo, who was retelling a very interesting story about his trip to the grocery store last week that involved a cereal box and a banana. Although it was a bit of a reach, you nodded and smiled at the right times, not really following the order of events, or really the importance of them.

“What does the fact that you were wearing- and I quote - ‘an incredibly sick pair of joggers’ have anything to do with your story?” You asked, tilting your head in teasing confusion.

“Oh, it doesn’t. I just thought you should know.” He replied matter-of-factly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Right. And I’m so better off now that I know.” You taunted him, voice dripping in sarcasm.

Jungwoo shot you an annoyed, and yet hurt look, before finishing his story. “And that’s how Johnny found out he was allergic to shellfish.”

“Okay. What the fuck? I’m literally so confused.” You cut him off before he could recount his story again. “I don’t really need to hear it again though. Thanks.”

He whined before laying his legs over yours, giving up.

For a few moments, things were quiet as you checked the time. It had already been thirty minutes, where was he?

You rolled your head to the side, finally focusing on the whiteboard that had what scribbles of writing over it. 

“What’s the tally for?” You asked, scrunching your nose at the whiteboard that was situated on the far wall of the room.

“Hmmm? The tally?” Jungwoo glanced around looking slightly nervous which had you even more curious. “It’s just a game.”

“Game? What game?” You laughed turning back to see the strikes adorning the board. “It looks like Johnny’s winning.”

“Uhh...” Again with the nervous glances.

You giggled, “You’re losing, aren’t you?” The spot under his name had the fewest tallies and you figured that’s why he was being so shy about it.

Jaehyun entered the room, seemingly in a very important conversation by the way that he was speaking animatedly.

“The game’s over on Friday and Johnny’s gonna win.” 

“That’s so stupid. He hasn’t bagged any since Y/N, how is he still gonna win?” Yuta complained all but scowling at the floor, neither of them had yet to notice your presence.

You frowned at the mention of your name, not liking the term ‘bagging’ to be in such close proximity with your name.

“Oh, Mark has a new strike, looks like he finally got Claire into bed.” Yuta continued snorting, “Took him long enough.”

“Wait, what the fuck? How the hell did Taeyong get two strikes?” Jaehyun, squinted at the board.

Yuta snorted, “He had a threesome last night. Can you believe it? This close to the end? It’s like he’s actually trying to compete now.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You muttered, effectively catching their attention.

“Y/N.” Jaehyun breathed out, eyes wide and darting between you and Jungwoo who was obviously trying to get them to stop talking. “Hey... what’s up? When did you get here?”

“Ummm.... no. What the fuck is going on?”

“What do you mean?” Jaehyun cocked his head, doing his best to pretend like he wasn’t panicking.

“No, I don’t want your bullshit. Just tell me what this game is.” You were using anger to hide your fear. You could feel the pounding of your heart in your head, a throbbing sensation that gave way to a sinking feeling of realization. 

At that moment, when his eyes finally met yours. Not Jaehyun’s, not Yuta’s, but Johnny’s as he walked in the room with that fucking stupid smile you felt your last will got out the window. It was at that moment that everything came crashing down. 

“Y/N, please can’t we just talk?” Johnny chased after you, begging you to turn around.

“You promised.”

Johnny’s heart dropped at your words, and his chest started closing in in fear. The burning feeling in his throat had him choking, panicking in belated realization.

It wasn’t just the words that you said, it was the way that you said it. So defeated, so broken. So betrayed.

“You promised that you wouldn’t hurt me. Do you remember that? Did you even mean that?” You felt the tears brimming, and you fought the best you could to keep them down. But your wobbling voice let him know.

“Of course I meant it.” He answered breathlessly. “You know me, I don’t say things that I don’t mean.”

“Do I? Do I know you?” You huffed out. “Because I really thought you were someone different.”

“No, I- I’m still me. I’m still Johnny. I just...”

“You just what? You just lied about our entire relationship? If it was even that, because I was just another tally to you wasn’t I? Just another tally on a stupid whiteboard for a stupid game.” 

You choked back the tears that were burning in your throat, not bothering to wipe at the ones that managed to escape.

“You know what hurts the most? I actually thought you liked me. I actually thought that you meant all those things that you said to me.”

“I did mean it. I meant every single word, and I still do. Nothing was a lie, my feelings were real. Please just listen to me, I can explain.” He stepped closer, but you took a step back, keeping the distance.

“Explain what? I already heard everything for myself. What are you gonna say, that Jaehyun and Yuta were lying? Hmmm? That it wasn’t a game? That that’s not the reason that you approached me?”

“I...” He couldn’t find any words, because you were right. Every single word that you said was right. He struggled to catch his breath, panicking. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t leave.”

“I love you. I need you. I can’t- I can’t imagine life without you.”

“That’s not enough.” You clenched your jaw, face going slack. It was as if you were losing the will to even be heartbroken over this.

“Please, I-I’ll do anything, what do you want me to do?” He begged, eye brows nearly touching as they furrowed.

“I don’t want anything from you, just stay away from me.” You mumbled out, avoiding his eyes.

“Baby, please.”

“Don’t fucking call me that, I’m not yours, I never was.” You snapped at him, backing away.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled under his breath and he wasn’t sure if it was meant for you or himself.

“So I’m kinda going rogue here. I know you already hate me, but try not to hate me anymore than you already do.”

Johnny didn’t look anywhere except for you.

The professor seemed to humor him, allowing one of his favorite students to continue with an amused smile on his face.

You on the other hand did not. 

You stared at Johnny with a straight face, trying your best to not look flustered.

“The whole point of this assignment was to find someone that changed our lives. But my partner and I struggled to find someone. It’s not that we didn’t have great people around us, its not even that we don’t have people that we admired. It was because no one we came up with really seemed genuine to us. But I found someone. I finally found someone that I could trust, that I let in. But I did something really stupid and fucked it up- excuse my language.”

You watched him stand behind the podium, looking smaller than he ever did.

“You know, before I met you I didn’t think that my life needed changing. I thought I was doing just fine. But then I realized that I wasn’t. I was struggling to even feel normal, to feel like I was living for something. Y/N you helped me find home. Remember when I said that you only understand that you were already home until you lose it? Well I feel it now. And it feels like shit.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, a feeling in the back of your throat burning.

“Y/N. You’re the person who changed my life. And I don’t even deserve that. But I’m here, standing in front of you like a fool because I’m whining about losing the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

For a moment you thought he was done, because the silence was deafening.

“Even if you sill hate me after this, I want you to know that you mean more to me than anything else. You are the person that changed my life. You are my person, and I want so badly to be yours.”

There was a beat of silence as he ended abruptly, taking a seat on the other side of the room, eyes still locked on you.

Your professor stood up with a clap. “Well, thank you Johnny for that... interesting presentation.” A wide smile was still on his face despite his word choice. “I guess we should end on that then. Second batch of presentations is on Friday, please be prepared.”

The students of your class stood, shuffling out the exit, voices murmuring to each other. 

You sat on the bench outside your lecture hall, watching as Johnny made his way nervously to you.

“You’re an idiot.” You told him as he approached you, bottom lip wobbling against your will. Eventually you broke. “But you’re my idiot.”

Johnny felt a drop of relief in his stomach as he felt like his heart would burst.

“You’ve totally botched our presentation by the way. If we fail it it’s on you.” You shoved him away teasingly.

Johnny grinned, throwing his arm over your shoulder. 

“Yeah? Well, I think we did better than you think. I think that things are gonna turn out just fine.”

(sorry, i was supposed to write a full angst, but i couldn’t help myself.)

© Copyright 2021. hyuckssunchip. All rights reserved.

[imnotwolverine]

LOVE IS LIKE - Sleeping Beauties and Working Life

< PART 1 | PART 2 Sleeping Beauties and Working Life | PART 3 >

A/N: It's snowing so I'm stuck inside..writing! Hope you all have a lovely Sunday ❤️

Summary: Back to work, Henry remembers his early days in showbizz. And the banana sock wearing woman appears to have found the sneakily shared phone number.

Word count: 2.179

The song: Chaka Khan - Like Sugar

Disclaimer: mentions of great age difference sex partners, stardom, loss of partner to cancer, dieting, physical/mental insecurity as well as Henry just really loving his work

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LOVE IS LIKE - Sleeping Beauties and Working Life

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Hey. Thanks for the book! I figured the number written in the book was your number? If not, I’m sorry and don’t mind this message. - 08.45

It’s Aurora btw. - 08.47

The name’s Aurora I mean. - 09.04

nvm - 09.05

Thanks for the book! Good luck with everything! - 09.06

And say hi to Kal from me - 09.06

‘Are you asleep?’ Fingers traced through Henry’s curls, their strands slightly sticky with hair products and sweat after one busy night between the sheets, the ceiling fan broken. Henry grumbled, indicating he was at least sort of awake, his lips curling in a lazy, close-eyed smile.

‘Again?’ He mumbled quietly with his young sweet voice. The woman laughed and propped herself up on one arm, eyes tracing down the soft morning silhouette of the kid who became a man.

‘No, no. You did well.’ She lowered her fingers to trace his brow, nose, cupid’s bow and lips, fingertips silky soft and gentle over Henry’s skin. Henry’s smile grew. Almost as if proud he had managed to please her.

For a moment the room was quiet. A very early Los Angeles sun was starting its slow rise over the hills somewhere far from this 70’s style abode with its paisley print curtains and yellow shag pile carpet. The interior fitted its owner quite well; her long sleek brown hair cut in bangs that hid those mysterious emeralds that had taunted his dreams ever since he met her on set. She was older. Much older. And perhaps those bangs were there just to hide her first wrinkles. But Henry rested easy beneath her trailing fingers, his eyes slowly fluttering open as she spoke again: ‘So how is Hollywood treating you?’ There was some concern in her voice and Henry looked at her. After getting busy all night they hadn't spoken quite so sincerely yet. He shrugged.

‘Hollywood is Hollywood?’

The woman moved her fingertips to his chin and used her hand to tilt his face more sharply in her direction. Her mouth opened to speak, but she hesitated. The concern had now spread to her eyes as they gleamed in the light of dawn. ‘Be careful yea? And if you ever need help with anything..? I can help..or get you help. Okay?’

‘Ok.’ Henry pushed himself up so he could cup his hand around her cheek, pulling her closer. She let him. ‘Thank you.’ He whispered, kissing her like the way they did in the movies.

Henry stretched out in his naked morning glory, the early London air chilly on his skin. Pushing the sheets off of him and with Kal refusing to wake from his doggy dream by the foot end of the bed, Henry padded over to the ensuite. Squinting in the burst of bright lights clicking on, he stepped beneath the shower, cold water jumpstarting his day, the very air pushed out of his lungs as the radio alarm cued exactly on time. 4.30.

'Li-like sugar, so sweet Good enough -- to eat,'

Gasping softly Henry pawed his hands over his crusty eyes, waiting for the water to become more warm and soothing with every massaging drop of water. From here on his morning routine was perfected to the minute. Coffee: brazilian. Gym: ACDC. Eggs: 5. Kal: walk. Cab: thankfully on time.

It was near 9 when he walked onto set in his full gear, ready for his first run-through of the day, Leah waving him off with Kal by her side. 'Be careful yea?' She chanted, smiling as he winked at her - she always said that no matter how totally safe the day's set would be.

'I will! Have fun today.'

'You too!' Leah wanted to turn around when she felt something buzz deep inside her bag of tricks, her hand having to angle for a bit before she found Henry's phone - kept there for safe keeping.

Whatsapp - 08.45 - Hey. Thanks for the book! ..

Leah smiled.

And there was the mysterious new book owner.

Henry let himself fall back on his bed, the frame squeaking. Suddenly Jersey felt too small. His bedroom too boyish. His clothes too normal. His dreams no fiction but real.

Flopping around on his belly he turned his attention back to his flip phone, his eyes roving over the call that had just finished. Hundreds of boys, hundreds of auditions. But he got it. He got it! Smiling only to himself he sighed, near missing the sound of feet walking over the floorboard landing.

Was that Charlie? With an excited little squeal Henry pushed himself off his bed to chase after his brother. It looked like his little brother had just lost a bet!

'HENRYYY!!! Henry!!!' Squinting his eyes at the flash of a camera, he stepped out of the hotel's revolving doors. By his side his trusty pal Kal looked up. Fans.

'Henry! Can I take your picture? -- Can you sign-' Some pieces of paper were shoved in his face and with the blinding glare of the flash gone he finally managed to throw a smile their way, his free hand scribbling some signatures here and there as he greeted them with a warm good morning.

Some girls squealed and as the excitement finally dissipated, Henry thanked them all and bid them a good day, some few last flashes following his silhouette as he pulled Kal in the direction of the nearest Parisian park.

It truly had become a Mission Impossible to just walk his dog. And Henry couldn't help but laugh as Kal snorted in what may be disapproval.

'I know I know. I won't forget about you.'

'Hey.'

'H-hi. Hi?'

'It's Henry.'

'Oh, of course!'

Henry smiled as Aurora's voice greeted him back through the phone line. It was a little past snacktime, his hands holding onto his tupperware with last night's pasta. He was hungry, but with her messages waiting for him, he had decided food could wait a moment.

'So I see the book has found a good home with you?'

'It has. Hahah. Thank you again. In fact..I kind of finished it last night, dodging around some particularly benign toothmarks I think I got the jest of the story.' She laughed again, making Henry smile back as he looked out over the set, some camera men in raincoats dragging around material.

'Well there's more where that came from.'

He hesitated the moment the words were out of his mouth. OH you donkey! That..that is not something you say to -- she laughed even harder.

'Oh why that sounds both terribly enticing and terribly inappropriate hahahaha.'

'Sorry that kinda - '

'Oh please hush.' Her chuckles subsided and after some loud clatter and a yelp her voice returned to the phone. 'Hey..eh..aherm..can I-eh, DAMMIT, can I call you back?'

'Something wrong?'

'J-just me trying to manage coffee and a laptop - and failing.' It sounded like this was just another Tuesday for her. She really was clumsy huh?

'Oh! Oh yes. Of course. Hope your laptop's alright..eh.. I'm off after..6..ish?' Henry looked to his left and saw Leah return with one exhausted Kal, back from their walk.

'Okay!'

'Alright. Goodbye..Aurora.'

'Byeeee!'

He was soo, soo hungry. Cutting never was his favourite part of dieting, though this time it was extra rough. For half a year he had just let go, not working out much at all. But then the one role that got away was back in arm's reach and for the hell of it; he couldn't let it slip by.

Gritting his teeth he focused back on the barbell on the gym mat, weights the size of two small children on either side. At least if Ellen wanted kids, I can manage them with ease, he thought, gripping his sore hands around the bar before he pushed off to lift it with all the strength he could muster. It wasn't enough. The bar only lifted halfway before his body sighed in defeat, the weight of it all crashing down on him finally as the barbell landed back on the floor with a loud thump.

Ellen hadn't called back in days.

'Remember me?' He felt stupid for calling, but he just needed it right now.

A warm voice responded like they called all the time.

'Hey! Henry! Of course! How are you?! Are you okay dear?'

Henry settled on the airport bench, waiting for his personal cab to arrive. Stardom was great, but in silent moments like these he felt terribly alone. He felt stupid for it, but her voice was near bringing him to tears.

'Yea ehh..' His voice broke and the small boy in this Superman body returned.

'Hey-hey. No problem darling no problem. Where are you right now? Are you safe?'

Henry nodded and looked through the haze of his tears in hope nobody would see him - thankfully he was alone.

'Talk to me.'

'I'm sorry for--' He wished to hang up, forget about it all. Ellen leaving. The stress. Fatigue. The travel. But he didn't. He just hesitated, waiting for her to speak again.

'I don't know where you are Henry dear. But you must know that you're not alone, okay? And if you happen to be in town; I'm making an absolutely delicious, mean and green lasagna.'

Henry wiped away a rogue tear and smiled. He could kill for a lasagna right now. And one cheat meal couldn't hurt right? Looking up as he saw a man with a clipboard sporting his name appear, he sat a little more upright.

'I--I might just take you up on that.'

'Okay.' Her lack of glasses and banana print socks made the woman before him near irrecognizable. She did however still have that dorky vibe about her, especially when she removed the awkwardly placed handbag before her; a stain on the right side of her tight dress appeared. She grimaced. 'It's bad isn't it?'

Henry chuckled and stood up from his seat, the chique bar a hushed daze of black furniture and fancy cocktails being carried by hipster bearded men. 'Hi Aurora.'

'Hi.' She let a chuckle escape her red painted lips and let him move out a seat for her. She smelled nice.

'I thought I could fit in one more business meeting and eat on the way. And..yea..that--' She shook her head and waited for Henry to take his seat, his face beaming with mirth.

'Stain or not, I'm glad you're here.'

'As am I.' She picked up the drinks card and immediately turned it to the snacks side. 'Do you mind if I order something on the side?'

'Oh no, no of course. I'd like some too actually.' He leaned in to look with her through the options, the both of them deciding on a cheesy snackboard.

'And here I was thinking all of Hollywood was on a diet.' She smirked, making Henry grin.

'Trust me: been there, done that. But no more. I like eating simply too much.' He winked and signaled a waiter to take their order.

'Good.'

He had initially spread his arms to keep his balance as he rushed after Kal on this slippery meadow of grass. But as Kal returned on Henry's call, leaving some racing off sheep behind, Henry kept his arms up like that. Like an eagle in flight he sniffed in the countryside air, feeling blessed cold air tingle his lungs. Life was good right now. Really really good.

Halting his feet and near slipping in the process, he lowered his arms to praise Kal for listening and returning to him. Sometimes, his furry son truly could be a handful. Today, he was a good boy.

'Chasing after the ladies again huh?' He rushed his fingers through Kal's thick warm fur. 'Well there's one thing you should know Kal; gotta give them some space every now and then.' Kal looked up. 'And don't forget to listen to what they want, mkay?'

Kal borked softly. Henry laughed, being bombarded with an in-the-face-tongue-kiss.

--

Drinks buzzed in their veins and between all the laughter and nerding out, Henry noticed something. First he thought it was a play of light. A figmentation of his mind. But he could see it clearly now as she noted his gaze and held up her left hand: no longer there, the left-over indent from what once had been a ring.

'I'm no longer married if that's what you want to ask.' She sighed and lowered her hand again, looking at it with an unreadable expression.

'Oh eh.. no, no. I couldn't be so rude to..-'

'No, you're very much allowed to ask, Henry. Please.' Aurora smiled and took a somewhat shaky breath before finding her comfortable, confident (though slightly clumsy) self again. 'He got cancer, died two years ago. We built the company together..'

'I'm sorry for your loss.'

She smiled. 'Thank you. I do miss him, but this is just life. Can't have the good without the bad. And it's okay now. I like where I am.'

'In some dimlit bar with some weirdo you met on an airplane?'

'Absolutely.' She snickered, then shook her head. 'But no haha. You're no weirdo Henry. In fact; you are perfectly, and surprisingly..normal.' And with that she reached out that ring-less hand and brushed it over his right hand opposite the table. Her hands were so soft on his.

A comfortable silence fell and were it not for the toasty heat of the indoors, Henry would swear he was on that meadow with Kal again, feeling like he was breathing truly for the first time in a long, long while.

He smiled.

--

Part 3 > 

--

General tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss​ @tumblnewby @magdelen69​ @thereisa8ella​ @darkbooksarwin​ @summersong69​ @madbaddic7ed​ @luclittlepond​ @maroonmolly @just-a-normal-fangirl18​ @hell1129-blog​ @agniavateira​ @tillthelandslide​ @elinesama​ @maddyreads14​

@beck07990​

[streets-in-paradise]

The Greek of New York

American Gods and Percy Jackson crossover - Part 2

Word Count: 2794

Characters: Zeus, Eira ( Vanir demigoddess OC), Wednesday, Shadow.

Pairings: Zeus x Eira. Platonical relationships of Wednesday's crew.

Warnings: Mentions of smoking and alcohol consumption. Heavy flirting, no smut but some sexy teasing and sexual tension. Zeus being a classy hot shameless asshole. Mentions of cheating. There is age difference because she is statted to be young . Of course, she is +18.

Summary: The crew's expectations get crushed in their meeting with the misterious man while Wednesday struggles in his goal to make him join their side.

Disclaimers: Please, don’t take this nonsense seriously. It’s just a fun piece i wrote to satisfy my needs for Sean Bean as Zeus. @yerevasunclair​ is my big inspiration for this and encouraged me to post it. Otherwise i would had never done it because of my total lack of faith in my attempts of writing fiction. This is a translation to english so, i apologise for any mistakes. 

Thanks for reading and i hope you’ll enjoy it. 

The trip ended on the facade of an imposing New York City skyscraper. Whoever this Theo was, Shadow got the impression that they were messing with someone really powerful. He was surprised to consider Mr. Wednesday's vast network of contacts and the variety of strange places he was taking them. Within minutes they were inside a luxurious apartment on the top floor.

The man for whom they were received was exactly the opposite of what they expected.

" Wednesday!! I was waiting for you. I knew you were going to come since the first rumours started spreading. What took you so long? " he welcomed in a tone equally playful and imponent. 

" I had other concerns to attend to. I didn't wanted to come to you with empty hands, my friend" Wednesday replied

Shadow and Eira were stunned. Theo was not at all the old stranger they had imagined. He was a mature man, but not exactly old. Blond, tall, elegant, of a distinguished royal bearing and very attractive. They realized that they had been tricked again. 

" I see you didn't" they heard him reply as he looked at them with a playful smirk. He didn’t seem to be paying particular attention to any of them yet Eira couldn't help to get the feeling of his stare all over her. It was the first trait she noticed in him, the charming ways of his beautiful green eyes. Shadow was seriously regretting the bet he did with their boss. 

They were barely paying attention to Wednesday's attempts of formality. 

" Allow me to introduce you. These are my servants, Shadow and Eira. " 

Theo saluted Shadow with a strong, confident  handshake and kissed Eira's hand without losing eye contact with her for a single instant during the action.

 All she could focus on was the intensity of his gaze and she quickly forgot about Wednesday's warnings. 

" We know who you are. You don't need introduction." 

He was perfectly capable of noticing the strong impression he left on her and it pleased him. 

" Surprised, little one? I understand it.  You must have been expecting to see an eldery man of long curly white hair and a matching beard. That damn Disney movie keeps ruining the general perception of most people. It's a price I have to pay for refusing to join the new paradigm. Although, my wife likes it. It portrays her in a far better light. The motherly way in which she always wanted to be seen, it also does wonders for our relationship. Of course, it's not because Media wanted to be softer with us... Marketing choice. Disfunctional families, half blood bastards and murder in divine induced crazyness is not Disney s style. Not exactly kids friendly fun" he joked, trying to come out as friendly so she would be able to calm her nerves around him.

" She is one of my special maidens" Wednesday replied, taking away any chance for her to keep the previous conversation. “ I don’t have the original upline anymore but I had been thinking in rebuilding a new one for modern times. She’s the first I got so far but i’m making plans for more additions.” 

" Those beautiful horse rider angels, right? Your best idea regarding orders of servants. " 

Eira wanted to keep talking to him. Not only because he was handsome, a strange push made her feel unable to shut up. 

" Actually it was my mother's invention. She was the founder of the institution and it represents her partnership with Wednesday. That's why I got selected"  she told, adding more details to her boss's simple explanation. 

Theo seemed to be even more interested in her after hearing that. 

" I knew there was something special about you. At first i thought it was just your radiant beauty but now everything makes sense. You are a halfblood. " 

Shadow wasn't able to understand most of the conversation but the sweet, friendly attitude of that man towards her was pretty easy to get , as well as his intentions. 

Getting excited, Eira kept telling him details about her. 

" My mother's fields are love, fertility, beauty, witchcraft and she shares war with Wednesday." she told him like if it meant something for someone. 

"Interesting.... very interesting" he stated, looking at her in the eyes with a thoughtful expression. Since he didn't wanted to intimidate her, he changed his tone quickly " It looks like the nordics finally started to follow our business model... and they had amazing results" 

Wednesday was so annoyed that he didn't took a lot of consideration in his answer 

" Her mother decided to keep her at her side. It's not a common choice between our kind but what can you expect from a Vanir? It's the softer side of the family. The rest of us aren't opening summer camps" 

" You should. It ‘s  a wonderful business that keeps growing. Nothing is stronger than the blind faith of a child and it gets particularly better when a parent is involved. I don't even need to have my own, all the cabins of the camp have to put their faith in me before their parents because i'm their leader. Every year more and more keep joining and we have entire generations raised in our ancient ways." 

Shadow started to wonder if Theo was a cult leader instead of a mob boss. 

" Did you make a fortune with summer camps for children? How? " he asked. 

" It's a surprisingly profitable business, i told your boss long ago that it was the solution to all his problems but he still stands in disbelief. You can even adapt the format to your particular cultural tastes. Want some advice? Replace the whole “giant palace with thousands of rooms” thing with a hotel. It fits better to your tale than a camp. '' he replied in a very relaxed mood. He sat on a small , fancy couch like a king would sit on his throne and gave Wednesday a condescending  smile while lighting up a cigarette.  

" I don't have intentions of converting to the touristic industry. My business is war. " he stated, proudfully. 

"it's a shame. Time should have made you more pragmatic. "  Theo teased him after exhaling the smoke of his cigarette.  

Both of Wednesday's assistants were thinking about how different his way of smoking was to Czernobog . Instead of the usual disgusting smell and creepy vibe this man was classy, smooth and the smoke he left behind felt like a different perfume to each one of them. Both cases being pleasant smells they enjoyed. 

He offered a cigarette to Shadow first. He got used to that sort of socialization code in prison so it wasn't a problem to him. When Eira received the same offer she seemed to hesitate. 

" I don't smoke. I never got interested in the habit despite, or maybe because, I have a fríend who is a heavy smoker. " she said, slightly embarrassed. She feared her reply would upset him but he was smiling at her.

 It was like her answer was exactly what he was expecting. 

" There is always a first time for everything"  he teased her,  seductively. " Come here and let me show you"

The girl stared doubtfully at Wednesday, but she understood she wasn't able to deny his request even despite her boss's disapproval. As courtesy, she had to obey. She sat on the dangerously close spot the man indicated for her,  the arm of his couch. She had the impression that, if it wasn't for the presence of Wednesday and Shadow, she would had been on his lap. The idea didn't seem so bad. 

Meanwhile they sat in another less magnificent couch, they had to stand the whole thing. 

Theo put the cigarette between Eira's lips, he lit it , and told her how to smoke it. He wouldn't stop looking at her and he smiled pleasantly when she exhaled , laughing a bit when she coughed briefly. 

Nerves made her laugh as well and he caressed her cheek and jaw with one hand, reaching her lips and tracing them with his index finger. It was his way to show her how pleased he was. 

" Good, you did it so good. Not bad at all to be your first time, eh?" he told her, in a sweet but sinful tone. " You must understand, dear. I made you do it for a reason. Some like alcohol, some meat, others prefer blood. What pleases me is smoke. Since you are in my house, or at least one I like to use temporarily, you must smoke at least a little bit for me." he explained as he reached her waist with his arm. 

Shadow couldn't believe what he was watching. Eira seemed entranced by that man. 

"You are such a sweet girl, soo well behaved. Your boss must adore you. " he kept saying to her in the same casual and calm but lust driven way. For such an elegant man, that behaviour was openly shameful yet he didn't seem to lose his royal vibe. He was like a shameless king seducing the unmarried daughter of a noble friend in a feast. 

" Not really, I'm a disappointment. He picked me because there was no one else willing to do the job. " she admitted to him. 

" Don't say that, you are such a good girl" he emphasized the last two words. " Do you want to know something more? You have really pretty lips, it makes the gesture of the offering even better. Why don't you keep trying with that cigarette? I like the sight as much as I like the feeling. " 

Eira rushed to pick it again and keep smoking.

 Wednesday was done with their bullshit and interrupted them. 

" I would like to discuss our common problem instead of watching you degrading my servant." 

" She is a lovely creature. Is she entirely yours?" Theo asked as he played with the girl's hair. 

" She doesn't serve me in the ways you are suggesting. Our bond is only professional with hints of familiar feelings on her part. Her mother is an important member of my family. She sees me as an old uncle because of this , i really don’t care. "  Wednesday explained. 

Theo seemed even happier. 

" That's so sweet. You are adorable! " he said to her. " Aren't you more comfortable now? I don' t want you to shy away from me, pretty thing. This feels so much better"

" I had never seen her like that. Is she alright?" Shadow asked

" She is a bit overwhelmed. That's all. She is enjoying herself, you don't need to worry. I think she likes me as much as I like her"  Theo answered. He was in a good mood, ready to hear whatever they were bringing to him. " So, going back to our business. What do you want from me?" 

" War is upon us, sooner or later it will affect every single one of us. I expect to count with you and your family on our side. "  Wednesday stated. 

" We live in perfect balance with the new people. They don't touch our worshippers" 

" For how long? Can you trust in an impulsive, unstable young brat like the Technical Boy? Your children would be his if you weren't in the way. How much do you think he would be willing to wait if he hears about the existence of a camp full of bored kids untouched by his toys? " the norse insisted 

" Mr World knows we have territories they shouldn't trespass" the greek pointed out. 

" With all the respect, sir. No one is able to predict what the boy is capable of doing if he is angry or offended enough. " Shadow added. " I had been there, you don't want to be his target." 

" What do you think, darling?" Theo asked Eira. " Should i trust in their advice? " 

" The boy lynched Shadow on his first day of work because he wasn't able to get information out of him. He is unpredictable and he doesn't tolerate when things don't go his way. Based on what we know he can see the system you had created to deny him access to your kids as a personal challenge to him. Young people are his biggest fans after all, specially little kids and teens in the age range of your lands' ' she answered. 

" Thanks for your honesty. You sound genuine in your concern and your observation is fair. Still, it is not enough to convince me. The young brat doesn't scare me. He is nothing without my electricity, his wifi goes around my sky and his phones don't do well in bad weather. Your boss will have to do better. "  he mocked him, making her a participant of it. 

" If you don't join us now they will come for you later and you will not have a backup. Once they end with us you are the next one. They want the whole market. They don't care who they are stealing from " warned Wednesday

" I'll not risk my family in a preventive war against an enemy that hasn't offended me yet. All I can offer you for now is a team of our halfblood heros as a  contribution." 

" We don't have Donar. We need the strength of the thunder with us and you are the only one who can replace him. Even if the rest of your people doesn't join we could use the help of your bolt. "  

" You are asking too much and I don't see a benefit. I'm sorry, my friend, but i can't help you this time." 

Shadow was pretty lost but he had a small fear regarding the route the conversation was heading. 

" Please, don't tell me you are thinking of trading Eira for his acceptance of the deal." 

" Don't be ridiculous. Of course i don't."  his boss denied. " She is not enough. The minimum he would accept is the mother. " 

" That is so rude. Are you always so demeaning to her? She is a servant you should be proud of." Theo complained. " Actually, i got the feeling that she is the only one who really likes to be here. Don't you, Eira?" 

" I do. You are very kind "  she agreed

" Well, if he keeps being so mean with you consider leaving him to serve me. I will value you a lot more, I can assure you that." 

The girl smiled while hearing his sweet talking. 

“ I give you two months before your wife finds out and kills her. She knows better. We taught her better” Wednesday teased him 

“Don’t scare her off like that. We are starting to know each other!” the greek replicated.” Don’t listen to him, sweetheart. She is not aware of my every step and she will not bother us if i don’t want us to be bothered.” 

“I don’t wish to bring troubles on a married man, or to enrage his wife.It’s not my style. I don’t have the experience required to deal with that sort of situation.” she declined politely. 

“ So naive, my shy girl. I have plenty of experience. I would love to keep teaching you stuff.” he replied, losing the few glimpses of shame he could had left. “ If the Vanir lady is your mother  i’m sure you must be like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. All you need is a push in the right direction to make the wilder side come out” he assured. 

Suddenly and without even being touched, the girl lost the balance in her seat spot. She wasn’t able to explain what made her do it. She ended up exactly where she imagined before, exactly where he wanted her: spreaded on his lap. In any regular circunstance she would have been extremely ashamed but the irresistable charm of the man was stronger than her shame. From her new point of view she had an even better access to contemplate the magnificence of the god’s face and she couldn’t help to feel entranced by him again. 

“ Shadow, go to my kitchen and get us some wine. You can pick whatever you like. I would do it myself but now i have this princess getting comfortable over here.”  she heard him requesting to her co worker. 

 During the rest of his excharge with Odin Zeus kept Eira on his lap, encouraging her to drink a few sips of wine from his own glass and keeping himself entertained messing with her without paying too much attention. He told him he was going to consider his idea just to get rid of him but he wasn’t on board with it. 

He would had kicked him out far sooner if he wouldn’t had picked an interest in his girl. 

[butterflyinthewell]

I’m gonna lose followers. Oh well... a rant by me.

People who harass others about SHIPPING FICTIONAL CHARACTERS are irksome.

Preface: if you say you don’t want someone role playing a NOTP with you or sending asks about it, or you don’t want secret Santa stuff containing it, if you ask people not to suggest fics with that pairing for your fic collections, if you stay out of your NOTP’s pairing tags, if you choose not to interact with material related to your NOTP, if you blacklist the pairing tag and ask people not to tag your fanwork with your NOTP, if you heed warnings and don’t click something with material you don’t like, I do not have a problem with you.

But if you write novel long posts about why a ship is gross to you and tag the pairing so shippers see it, send people hate over their ships, reblog fanworks of your NOTP with nasty messages to the op of the post, if you make a blog all about hating that ship and anyone who ships it, claim it must be grooming, or if you call people pedophiles or abuse apologists because they wrote something morally heinous in fiction that they will most likely never do irl, I’m not gonna have much respect for you beyond you being a fellow person.

Guess what? Shit you hate is going to exist on the internet. If someone tags their work appropriately or tags with appropriate warnings, you should not be clicking on it and harassing them! They have done what is necessary to protect those pearls you want to clutch.

Banning all questionable material is not going to save people who are targeted by predators and criminals.

Calling people pedophiles because they ship a fictional minor with a fictional adult gives actual pedophiles who go after actual minors a hiding place. These days you can’t tell if someone is an actual pedo or got called one over a ship they ship. Pedos are totally banking on that.

Fiction is supposed to break rules and let people explore dark subjects that are morally messed up because you can close a book or close a website if it gets too weird for you. A child with a predator’s hands on them right this moment can’t click an x or close a book to stop it.

Think about that.

No one is forcing you to go read morally messed up stuff. Not clicking on someone’s creepy fic with your NOTP is nowhere in the same realm as turning a blind eye to actual predators predating on someone.

Running someone off a website because your ass is on fire about them writing a pairing you hate or whatever is not going to stop the bad shit happening in the real world.

Predators and criminals will use anything, so someone’s freaky babyfur smutfic that they wrote to troll a fan website in 1999 is hardly going to normalize bad behavior.

I swear some of you insult the intelligence of people with your moral abuse garbage.

Teaching people to recognize predatory behavior and what to do about it will actually help. Teaching people what is and isn’t a healthy relationship will help.

Remember how people called out Twilight for how unhealthy Edward’s behavior towards Bella was? I’m sure a lot of preteen and teen girls learned to open their eyes a bit more. And I’m sure others still enjoyed the books and movies anyway because it’s fiction. It is the job of parents and guardians to teach their children what is and isn’t healthy in a relationship, but the unfortunate problem there is that can fail if the parents aren’t in a healthy relationship.

That’s why there needs to be more discussions about “this is healthy, that might be fun in a story, but that is not healthy in the real world and anybody who treats you like that is waving abuse red flags” rather than attacking somebody by saying “you’re a monster for shipping that”.

The whole point of art in any form is to create an emotional reaction in the audience.

Fucked up fictional shit exists on the internet. Get over it. I think the fact that people get freaked out by weird stuff in fiction is a clear indicator that it’s not being normalized by that piece of fiction. Flailing about it is not helping anything except your ego. It’s not gonna help survivors who write messed up stuff to cope, it’s going to make them go more silent.

Imagine being someone with an abusive pedo parent who takes comfort in the SessRin ship and being called a pedophile for it, or seeing people in the tag call Sesshoumaru a pedophile. That’s triggering as fuck for somebody.

Imagine being a Starkster going through sexual abuse who takes comfort in the ship, and being called a pedophile for it. Imagine seeing people in the tag call Tony a pedophile. That’s triggering as fuck for somebody.

Imagine having the heinous thing that happened to you being turned onto you as an accusation by people on a moral high horse who forget what pedophile means. That is triggering as fuck for somebody.

Nobody owes you a trauma history in order to be ‘allowed’ to create and post morally messed up fanworks. It’s on YOU to check for warnings and keep scrolling if it’s so offensive to your sensibilities.

What’s better? Discussion of tropes that are harmful if done badly. That’s a place to start. Save the accusations for people who are knowingly doing harm to people and not caring that they’re doing harm.

Go after shit that is actually exploiting actual people right now instead of harassing creators whose trauma you don’t know. Tell pedos their attraction to kids is not a sexuality and they have no place in the LGBTQIA+ community. Warn minors away from MAPs/NOMAPs. Expose predators who have exploitative materials of actual real children. Teach people to recognize predatory behavior like grooming. Find ways to get people out of human trafficking. Question adults if you see them touching or treating a child in a way that doesn’t look right. If you’re a minor and somebody keeps sending you porn material or pictures of their genitalia after you said stop, remind them that you’re a minor and expose the shit out of them. If you’re an adult and know somebody is doing that to a minor you talk to online, help them expose that person. That’s not all you can do, but I can’t think of everything. There’s a lot you can do that will actually help people!

But telling someone not to create something questionable because a predator might misuse it is utter horseshit.

I can bet you anything that every single person who hounds others about their ships has a whole bunch of fucked up stuff they read and never talk about because they know it will get them run off by the same people they use as shields against scrutiny.

I’ve read fucked up shit that I enjoyed because it was done well, but I can grasp that it is not okay to do the same thing in the real world and I would be horrified if I saw somebody doing the same thing in the real world. I am able to experience that moment of being horrified, sit with it and see where the fanwork takes me with that feeling.

I say this after I have just read an awesome morally gray Inuyasha fanfic called “Devour Prometheus” by ladybattousai on AO3. It’s gorey, there is murder, there is abuse, there is exploitation, there are allusions to animal trade and it’s the darkest thing I ever laid eyes on. My stomach twisted several times. It’s a fantastic lens on society right now. (Sesshoumaru’s speech about “don’t hold me to your hypocritical human morality” was epic af.)

And some of you are going to think the author is some kind of violence glorifying freak based only on that.

I feel like a lot of anti shippers and antis in general can’t get past that horrified feeling. They yell that they can’t enjoy the fandom if the material makes a hated pairing canon, so it’s like they don’t want anyone else to enjoy the fandom or the pairing. It’s very immature and scorched earth, and it hurts everyone.

Hey, guess what? I have written pairings with hella huge age gaps. Oh, the horror!

OptimusxMikaela? I headcanon Optimus as being 10 billion + years old, and Mikaela was 18 when they hooked up. Mikaela ages as the stories carry on through the years as my Danceverse series, so she’s in her 30s currently. They fucked and still fuck explicitly.

UnicronxStarscream? Unicron is as old as the universe, so 13 billion + (headcanon), and Starscream is probably 11 million or so (headcanon). They fuck explicitly.

Whouffaldi? The 12th Doctor is 2000+ and Clara is in her 20s. They fuck explicitly.

BeastGojixMiki? Godzilla has been alive for probably close to 65 years in the story, but he acts more like he’s in his 20s and he looks to be in his 20s when he turns back into a human. Miki is 18. They fuck in the story, but it’s written non explicitly.

Bowser JrxOC? Cherry is an oc who is 19. I aged Junior up in that story to be about 20. Their ages aren’t specified, but they’re mentioned to be adults. They fuck in the story, but it’s written non explicitly.

I have written fanfics with rape, abuse, murder, manslaughter, bdsm, stuff that’s morally messed up, etc, and I’m not a murdering rapist who eats children now, am I?

No, because I have no desire to do those things in the real world (because some are not possible...cuz I would date Optimus 😛) and I can distinguish fiction from reality. I can grasp the concept that fiction / art is not always endorsement.

Now get a grip on yourselves, put the pitchforks down and stop policing people’s imaginations.

[retroateez]

1980s horror film - s.mingi

hello all!!!

it’s been a lot longer than i intended, but a bunch of stuff came up and i both didn’t have time and didn’t feel like writing. this also wasn’t what i initially planned on posting, but life works weirdly and here we are. that being said, i wrote this in a way that is different to how i typically write so i apologise if it sounds/feels weird or awkward. regardless, i hope u enjoy! (also i didn’t realise it was all lower case so please ignore the inconsistency lmao)

//

pairing: song mingi x reader genre: unrequited love?? idk how to tag it oops word count: 1660 this is inspired by a song titled ‘1980s horror film II’ by wallows! 

//

mingi had been waiting for eons to score a date with y/n. way too long. all of his friends (mainly wooyoung), teased him constantly about her, but he had never gathered the courage to do anything about it.

they'd been friends for a long while, even hanging out a few times together at the cinema, or just going out for lunch before mingi realised he had an absolutely huge crush on her.

recently he'd been avoiding her like the plague, using volleyball practice, or band rehearsal with the boys as an excuse not to hang out with her. 

that was, until one sunny saturday afternoon, when she called him out of the blue. he took a few moments to collect himself, staring at the ringing phone in his hand like it was a ticking bomb seconds away from a devastating explosion.

"hey dingus!" y/n called down the phone once he had collected himself enough to answer. "what are you doing?" she asked.

"nothing. why?" 

"i'm bored." she declared. "wanna come over?"

"s-sure!" mingi agreed straight away.

"sweet. see you soon then!" y/n hung up, and mingi was convinced he might pass out.

he'd never been to her house before. maybe she really did like him back? oh god, he was starting to internally panic now; how was he supposed to act? he didn't want to be a creep but he didn't want to be painfully awkward either. oh god. oh god oh god oh god.

"get it together, mingi." he scowled at himself in the mirror, shaking his faded red hair side to side. he couldn’t make a fool of himself in front of her; he absolutely would not allow it. 

this could be his chance, to finally muster enough balls to ask y/n out before it was too late. yes, he'd decided; today would be the day.

-----

half an hour later, an exceptionally nervous song mingi knocked on the door of his highschool crush. he reached up and brushed a shaking hand through his hair, wondering whether his legs were numb from fear or the chilling bite of the surprisingly cold weather. 

a few moments passed, then the door swung open to reveal y/n. she was dressed in her usual style, comfy, stylish, beautiful, very y/n. in truth, she could be wearing a trashbag and mingi would still say she looked gorgeous.

she gave him a wide, toothy grin and stepped aside to let him in.

"welcome to mi casa!" she motioned to the hallway dramatically, one arm sweeping out in front of her and almost bashing her elbow into the kitchen doorframe.

"i wanna watch a movie!" she said, once she had recovered from the near injury. "i've already got the snacks ready, so let's go!"

she began bounding up the stairs, mingi following her before realising where they were headed and freezing abruptly in his tracks.

"we're going upstairs?" he breathed, anxiety flooding him from head to foot.

just what exactly was she expecting from him?

"yeah?" she shrugged. "is that a problem?"

"no!" he replied, perhaps a little too quickly. "no, that's not a problem at all."

-----

he was scared.

bordering on terrified.

y/n's bedroom was dark; having pulled the curtains before mingi's arrival to avoid the sun glaring onto the television.

as the minutes went on, mingi became less and less sure just what she was planning this afternoon.

she paced over to the tv set, opening a dvd case and slotting a disc into the player.

"it's a 1980s horror film," she explained. "i've been wanting to watch it for ages, but i didn't want to watch it alone... you don't mind, do you?"

mingi shook his head quickly. he did in fact mind, not being the biggest fan of the horror genre, but he'd made it this far, and backing out now was definitely not an option. plus, if wooyoung caught wind of mingi chickening out, he would never hear the end of it.

"here," she motioned to her bed; a double, with lilac sheets and an appropriate amount of cushions bundled up by her pillows. "take a seat."

unsure of whether he should, but not wanting to be rude, mingi crawled across her bed, sitting down amidst the cushions and crossing his legs like an obedient, yet timid child. he watched y/n grab her desk chair, dragging it across the room and placing it beside the bed, distanced but still close enough to mingi to completely throw him off his guard.

"don't you want the be-"

"nonsense!" she cut him off before he could even get the words out. "you're my guest, so you get the bed."

mingi was bewildered. never in his life had he expected to be in this situation. it appeared that y/n had absolutely zero intentions of doing anything romantic. which, don't get him wrong, was totally fine, but regardless he was still confused.

all the cheesy high school romance movies he’d watched, and all the young adult fiction novels he had read hinted that when you were invited to your crush’s house, alone, it usually indicated they wanted something romantic. or something more. absolutely nothing had prepared him for, or even suggested that the current circumstances would ever occur in a million years. mingi felt rather cheated, to be honest.

was she making him wait on purpose? deliberately staying away from him in the hopes that he'd just cave in and sweep her off her feet? y/n didn't seem like that kind of girl, but mingi had been wrong about a lot of things when it came to y/n. 

the movie began to play, and they sat surrounded by darkness, mingi decided he would simply go with the flow. he was a nervous wreck, but he wasn't a pervert; he wouldn't do anything unless y/n initiated it. the last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable. 

despite reaching a solution, he couldn't get it out of his mind how close they were in the moment. glancing to his side, he could very much reach out and gently touch her hair. or softly caress her cheek. 

obviously, he wouldn't, because that would be weird. and that was a vibe he was trying to avoid today.

halfway through the movie, y/n jumped up, explaining she had to use the bathroom and scaring the shit out of mingi in the process.

he kept his gaze fixed on the movie playing in front of him, but his mind wandered to other places. he sighed deeply.

he didn't even know what to say to her.

she's always on his mind,

and yet,

he's too afraid to say anything. how long would this pathetic pining go on for? surely it would be better for him to take wooyoung's advice and just go for it? otherwise he'll be playing this game for god knows how long. 

that was it.

he simply couldn't help the way he was feeling; he needed to get it out, to tell her how he truly feels.

and maybe, just maybe, she'd feel the same way too.

y/n comes back, and mingi gears himself up for his confession. digging into the deepest corners of his mind to find the right words to use. deciding to abandon his previous resolution to let y/n initiate, he convinces himself to take charge and follow the lead of every heteronormative teen movie in existence, and sweep the girl off her feet.

until she ditches the chair, motioning for mingi to scooch over and then she lays down right beside him. 

the bed is fairly large, but then again mingi is no regular sized teenage boy, his lanky frame taking up a considerable portion of the bed.. as a result, his right side and her left are pressed flush against each other, and poor mingi thinks he's about to explode.

but still, he inhales deeply, surveying the situation.

the lights are off, 

the mood was right.

perfect.

mingi lets her settle for a short while, which is really him internally psyching himself up, before setting his masterplan into action.

he turns his head slowly to look at y/n, noticing how invested she is in the movie and he pouts a little.

he wants her attention.

she still doesn't notice, so he opts for placing his hand on her cheek as gently as he can and guides her gaze towards him.

her eyebrows furrow together in confusion, but she makes no effort to move away.

frozen anxiety that mingi misinterprets as a green light.

his eyes fall shut, and his upper body leans forward the tiniest amount. he's so close. so close to finally being able to show y/n how he feels. he's seconds away from having a weight lifted off his shoulders. he can't wait to shove it in wooyoung's face either, all the times the younger boy had called him a pussy had pissed mingi off to no end, but look at him now wooyoung, look at him now.

all he needed was for y/n to bridge the gap between them.

but instead, a small hand on mingi's shoulder pushes him back, and his eyes snap open abruptly, and he feels his stomach fall straight through his ass.

"y/n, i-"

the look on her face stops mingi dead in his tracks, because he can't read her expression.

is she mad? is she super pissed that he tried to kiss her? he'd understand if she was, it probably wasn't the best course of action but it was the best he could come up with. is she angry? is she hurt? disappointed? he searches her eyes, burning into his, for answers but comes up short. all he can do is try and guess how she's feeling, but realistically he's no expert, he's no mindreader, how is he suppo-

"mingi, i'm really not that into guys." 

oh.  

[artemispanthar]

Tentative Title: Movie Date Originally written: 09/12/16 Word Count: 3,119 Intended plot: Pearl goes on a movie date with Mystery Girl.

Notes: Extremely self-indulgent Pearl/Mystery Girl ship fic written shortly after “Last One Out of Beach City” aired. I was actually super motivated to finish this one but the fall of 2016 was when I got really, really sick and almost died so it unfortunately fell to the wayside and I never got to pick it back up. This is a pretty good example of how I usually write, though, as I usually end up writing the beginning and end of a story first, write in the scenes I have a clear picture of, and then fill in the spaces inbetween. Since this is unfinished, it kinda just jumps between scenes midsentence, so I’ll indicate the scene changes with a — mark

I’m kinda tempted to finish this one too. It’s self-indulgent to the point of it being embarrassing but that made it really easy to write

Side note: You may or may not recall my big rambly post (here) about a fictional horror series called Helltel from a few years back. Well, it was developed entirely due to this fic and tbh it’s likely none of the information I made up was even going to come up in it, I just got carried away lol

It had been several weeks since the night of the rock show and Pearl had already experienced more of Earth and human interaction in that short time than in the last 6000 years she’d spent on the planet. Sure, it was mostly house parties and bonfires, but it was all so different and new and exciting. Part of her wanted to kick herself for not exploring this side of Earth life before, but another, more rational side told her she could never have experienced this way before now. She certainly wouldn’t have felt so comfortable shamelessly flirting with that mystery girl she’d met at the show, and that was really what made those social outings so enjoyable.

Pearl had seen the girl a total of three times after getting her number. The day after the show, after working up her nerve (and goaded on by Amethyst) she borrowed Steven’s phone and gave the girl a call. They finally exchanged names (hers was Sheena, which Pearl thought was lovely) and compliments. Pearl found her just as captivating on the phone as she was in person. After that initial call, Sheena began sending her texts, which Steven explained as short written messages people exchange on phones. They texted back and forth for a day (mostly idle chatter) before Greg stopped by and gave Pearl a new phone. He had said it was so she didn’t have to keep asking to borrow Steven’s and also “for privacy”, whatever that meant. Pearl had refused at first, but Greg insisted, “We can call it a late payment for when you fixed the van. Besides, what’s the point in having money if you can’t share it?”

 —

Pearl was shaken from her musings by someone tapping her in the back. She jolted slightly, startled, and turned to see a short woman with blonde hair. The woman took half a step back, pulling her arm away.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just wanted to ask if this was the line for the Splatterday event.”

“Oh, uhm…” Pearl looked around. She wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. But there was only the one line, so it had to be, right? “Yes, I think so.”

“Ah, thanks!” The woman said, giving Pearl an appreciative nod and a warm smile. Pearl smiled back. As she went to turn away, the woman spoke again.

“Hey, aren’t you one of Steven’s… uhm, one of the Gems Steven lives with? You're… Pearl, right?”

Oh! That’s why this human looked so familiar, she was a friend of Steven’s! She was one of the donut children from that donut shop Steven liked. She was the nice one, who was always kind to Steven.

“Yes! And you’re from the donut shop, correct?”

“Right! Are you here with Steven? Because I don’t think they’re going to let him in… Or is this a Gem thing? Should we evacuate the theater?” The woman laughed awkwardly, half-joking, half-completely serious.

“Oh, nono, it’s completely safe, especially with me here. And Steven’s at home, I’m actually here with…” Pearl said turning to point out her companion. As if on cue, Sheena was already on her way over. She stopped beside Pearl and handed her a small piece of paper.

“Here’s your ticket. Looks like they’re showing Helltel four and five tonight.”

“Oh dear, would I have had to have seen the first three for it to make sense?”

“Naw, they’re not gonna make sense anyway.” Sheena laughed, putting her hands in her pockets and nodding toward the woman Pearl had been talking to. “Who’s your friend?”

“Oh! Sheena, this is… uhm…” Pearl paused as it suddenly occurred to her she didn’t actually know this woman’s name, and though her knowledge of human social etiquette wasn’t the greatest, she was pretty sure calling her “the Donut Child” would definitely be peculiar.

Mercifully, though, the woman interjected.  “Sadie.”

“Yes, right, Sadie! She lives next door to the temple.”

“Well, I don’t live there, I work there. But I’m there so often it does kinda feel like I live there.” The woman, Sadie, laughed. “It’s the Big Donut. I think I’ve seen you in there sometimes, actually.”

“Oh, yeah.” Sheena said, nodding. “Cool place. Decent coffee.”

“Thanks, it comes from a big bag in the backroom.” Sadie said, causing both Sheena and herself to laugh. Pearl didn’t really ‘get it’, but laughed as well.

 —

They followed the crowd into a long, narrow room with a large screen. It had an aisle running down the middle toward the screen with about fifteen rows of four seats on either side of the aisle. After looking around for a moment, Sheena led Pearl to a row of seats to the left of the aisle, five rows from the back. Sheena motioned for Pearl to sit first, and she shuffled into the narrow space between the rows to get to her seat. She then paused, perplexed. The seats were very peculiar, they had normal fabric covered backs but the seats of it were strange, narrow columns that didn’t look at all comfortable to sit on. Nothing Pearl couldn’t handle, of course, so she went about trying to perch on the awkward seat, which proved rather difficult as it wobbled terribly. Then she heard a snort to her right as Sheena stifled a laugh.

“You gotta push the seat down and then sit on it. Like this.” To demonstrate, Sheena pushed down on the odd column on the seat closest to the aisle, causing it to fold out into a typical-looking cloth-covered seat. She then sat down on it, settled in, and gestured for Pearl to try. Pearl looked at the seat in front of her and gingerly pushed down on the folded seat. It folded out into a seat just as Sheena’s had. Pearl released her hold on it and it snapped back into its original, folded position. Fascinated, she pushed it down and released it a couple more times. It creaked audibly but otherwise seemed to operate perfectly. Finally, she sat down on it, testing her weight on it.

“Oh, it folds up when not in use to make space and it folds out for use, with one’s weight keeping it down. That’s very clever!” Pearl marveled. It was a simple mechanism, but she was always impressed by what humans were capable of building. Primitive, compared to Gem technology, of course, but humans always seemed to figure out ways to make what they needed or clever ways to engineer something to make it more useful. That was probably her favorite thing about humans. In the beginning they had nothing and they figured out how to make everything they needed, taught themselves how. In this way they kind of reminded her of… well, herself.

“Yeah, I guess it is kinda clever.” Sheena said, amused. She leaned on the armrest between them. “Y’know, you’re really cute when you geek out about this stuff. Makes me think about stuff different than I used to.”

“Oh! Well, I’m happy to hear that

 —

The room got louder and louder as more people continued to pour into the theater, taking seats and idly chatting. A human couple squeeze by Pearl and Sheena, murmuring ‘excuse me’s, and took the seats just to Pearl’s left. Pearl’s nerves prickled and she removed her arm from the armrest between her and the stranger, shifting slightly to be closer toward Sheena. She bounced her leg and absently scratched at the worn fabric on the armrest to her right. Pearl didn’t mind the crowds, really, she had expected it and prepared herself for it. But the noise level rising, the heat from all the bodies, the bright fluorescent lights, and the feeling of being boxed in… it was just a bit much all at once. It brought up unpleasant feelings and memories. She shook her head to dispel them, she wasn’t going to dwell on the past and ruin the evening,

“Are people going to be able to hear the movie with all this noise?” Pearl muttered.

“They’ll be quieter once the lights are off. It buggin’ you?”

“Hmm? Oh, no, I’m fine, I’m fine.” Pearl said. After a few seconds, she felt Sheena’s hand rest on her own. She stopped scratching at the armrest and turned her wrist so she could hold Sheena’s hand. It was comforting. She bounced her leg at a slower pace.

“Y’know, we could leave if you’re not feeling it.”

“No, no, I’m alright. I want to do this. I’m just nervous.”

“Hmm. Do you want to switch seats? You could be on the aisle, just get up and go if you need to.”

“Oh,” Pearl looked around. Maybe it would help to have that option. “Could we? If it’s alright with you.”

“Psh, yea, I’m cool wherever.” Sheena said, letting go of Pearl’s hand and standing up. She stepped into the aisle to allow Pearl to move over to her seat, then squeezed by Pearl and sat down.

Pearl sighed. It was such a little change, but it really did make her feel much better. She didn’t feel boxed in anymore, having that free space to her side was doing wonders.

“Thank you, this is much better. Sorry for being a bother.”

“Eh, it’s nothing. Sometimes you just gotta feel like you can go whenever. That’s what I like about my bike, I used to have a car but it always made me feel like I was stuck.”

“Oh? I’ll have to try that out sometime. I used to get that feeling when I’d pilot spaceships but… well I don’t get much opportunity to do that these days.”

Sheena laughed. “Well, I doubt it’s gonna feel like flying a spaceship. But it is pretty cool anyway. I could take you for a ride on in sometime.”

“Oh! That would be lovely. I-” Pearl stopped talking and sat up straighter when the lights suddenly turned off. The large screen lit up and after flickering for a few seconds began running advertisements for the theater.

Sheena leaned over to Pearl and whispered “It’s about to start, so we can’t talk too loud.” Pearl nodded. She did know that much (she got the run down of movie theater etiquette from Steven) but appreciated that Sheena thought to tell her.

The screen turned black and slowly faded into an image of a dilapidated hotel on a hill, shrouded in fog. Rain battered the building in a way that was clearly not actually rain, probably some sort of sprinkler set up. It looked very fake, in Pearl’s opinion. The movie cut to the interior of the building

—

Pearl turned to walk away, then turned back. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Sheena, wait.”

“Yea?” Sheena paused, her helmet partially on her head. She took it back off and hung it on the handle of her motorcycle.

Pearl took a few steps closer, wringing her hands for a moment before clasping them together, to stop herself from fidgeting too much. “I… uhm… I had a very lovely time tonight. Wonderful, in fact. I hope you did as well.”

“I did.” Sheena said, amused.

“Good! Good. And, well, after such a nice night I’ve heard it’s customary to… well, I mean, I’m not an expert on human dating practices by any means, of course, but I thought it would be nice if…”

“Yea?” Sheena closed the distance between them, causing Pearl to need to look up at her.

“What I’m trying to say is,” Pearl took a breath. She could do this. “I would very much like to kiss you, if… if that isn’t too forward. I completely understand if you would prefer not to, of course, I was just thinking…”

Sheena didn’t say anything, instead she brought one hand to rest on Pearl’s cheek, gently guiding Pearl to tilt her head up. She leaned down slightly and Pearl stretched up, their lips met and…

It was amazing. Sure, it wasn’t the bombastic fireworks like the first time she kissed Rose (which was the first time she kissed anyone, ever), after a hard won victory during the Gem War, but it still felt electric. Kissing a human was so much different from kissing a Gem, Pearl found. Gems can simulate the human body in many ways, simulate skin texture, teeth, saliva, all that. But it’s just a simulation, incredible but never quite the same. Humans… humans are cohesive yet imperfect. Always imperfect. There’s just no way to properly replicate the random imperfection of the human body accurately. Her lips were warm and soft, but not uniformly so. Some spots were softer, wetter, warmer. And it changed, very slightly, even over the short time they kissed. And that lip ring! Pearl wasn’t quite sure what that would feel like, in fact it had puzzled her because surely it would just be in the way? But strangely it wasn’t. It was noticeably there, yes, but it didn’t seem out of place. It was a cooler, harder texture comparatively, and interesting in a good way. Everything about this felt… right, imperfect and different yet completely right.

It felt like it lasted ages but it was only a few seconds before they pulled apart. Pearl stared up at Sheena, breathless. Figuratively speaking, of course, as she didn’t really need to breathe and yet felt out of breath all the same. “Wow…”

Sheena laughed, soft and low. “Yeah, wow… Y’know, I gotta tell ya, I’ve been waiting to kiss you for a while now. Not that I mind taking things slow, of course.”

“Oh goodness, I’m sorry! I wasn’t sure how long it’s customary for humans to wait.” Pearl blushed, embarrassed. Everything on Earth moved so fast! It was hard for her to gauge how time worked for humans. Gems, being ageless, didn’t really have need to rush. “I didn’t want to rush into anything or pressure you.”

“Naw, it’s alright, I get it. There’s not any customary way of doing these things, really. It’s just what feels right, I guess. Some people go fast, others go slow. It’s all good.” Sheena paused, thinking, then said “What’s customary where you’re from?”

“Oh, nothing. Gems don’t really… have these sorts of relationships. Not on Homeworld anyway. We weren’t meant to or allowed to. Romantic relationships were completely unheard of. Kissing as a concept doesn’t exist there, or didn’t, I suppose I’m not really up on how things are there now.”

“Damn, really? Wow. That’s… that’s really awful. I’m sorry.”

Pearl hummed in agreement. “It was. I was on Earth for several years before I learned what kissing was. And even more before I ever tried it myself.”

“Oh, you’re really behind, then.”

“Behind?”

“On kissing. You should’ve been kissed way more in your life. But I’ll be more than happy to help you catch up.” Sheena said, leaning in.

“Oh!” It was a line. Cheesy, maybe, but Pearl appreciated it. “Oh, I think I’d like that.” She leaned in as well and they kissed again.

They broke after a moment. Pearl sighed, happily. “You know, in the beginning, I thought the act seemed rather messy and unpleasant.”

“But you don’t anymore?”

“Oh, goodness no.”

“That’s good.” Sheena said, and they kissed again.

“Well,” Pearl started, when they broke for breath (for Sheena, anyway). “I suppose it still is but-” They kissed again. “-with the right people it somehow-” Again. “-feels right and it doesn’t bother me. But-” Again. “-if I think of it in the abstract I suppose-” Again. “-it is still somewhat unpleasant. So-” Again. “-it’s more about the company than the-”

“Pearl?” Sheena sighed, breathless (or perhaps just exasperated).

“Yes?”

“Not that I’m not interested, ‘cause I am, but I think this would go smoother if you stopped talking so much.”

“Oh, right, sorry!”

“S’alright, no need to be sorry. I just think you’d enjoy it more if you lost yourself in the feeling, y’know? Or just try it out, at least.” Sheena said. Pearl nodded. They kissed again.

“I’m just nervous.” Pearl said when they broke again. Sheena hummed sympathetically and they kissed again. “I have a tendency to ramble when I’m nervous.” Again. “I don’t even realize-”

“Pearl.” Oh, right, rambling again. They kissed again. And again.

“… Sorry.” Pearl squeaked out between kisses. She couldn’t help it, she had to! Sheena didn’t respond, but instead continued to kiss Pearl while laughing softly into her mouth. It was a kind laugh, not cruel or mocking, just… amused. It created a pleasant, humming sensation in Pearl’s mouth. It was infectious, too, and she couldn’t help but laugh along with her. After a moment they stopped and just continued kissing, with no further interruptions.

They continued like that for a while, and Pearl had to admit Sheena was right. It was rather nice to just… lose herself in the feeling. To just fall into that rhythm and that pleasant feeling of exploration and just being with someone. It was nice. They pulled apart again and neither felt compelled to continue, just allowing themselves to look at one another in silence, save for the sound of breathing.

“Alright.” Sheena sighed, reluctant. “I really should go now. Got work in the morning.”

“Ah yes, and you humans do need a certain amount of sleep to function properly! I’m sorry if I kept you from it.”

“Naw, it was worth it.” Sheena gave Pearl one last kiss before turning and walking back to her motorcycle. She straddled the seat and put her helmet on, adjusting the strap. “See you Saturday, probably.”

“Yes, with luck! And, uhm, catch you later!”

Sheena laughed. “Should I fall.” She started her motorcycle and drove off.

Pearl watched her drive away until she disappeared behind some buildings and the roar of her motorcycle’s engine could no longer be heard. Then she stood in silence for a moment, just breathing, just being. She was so… proud of herself. She was socializing with humans, she was experiencing Earth. Not for Rose and not even for Steven, but for herself. She went on a real official human date for the first time! She was nervous, but she did it. She felt happy at this moment, genuinely happy. Best of all, she felt little to no guilt about feeling happy. Out of everything, Pearl was probably most proud about that.

With a contented sigh, Pearl finally turned and walked to Greg’s car. The parking lot of the movie theater was mostly empty now and dead silent. She hummed softly, getting into the car and starting the engine. She flicked on the Earth radio, fiddling with the dial until she found a tune that sounded half-way pleasant, and set a course back to the temple.

[jadewing-realms]

Voltron S8 Thoughts

warning: there will be spoilers ahead

So, I wanted to give myself some time to ponder this before I threw my thoughts out... I don’t want to just say more of what’s already been said, and I don’t really have the brain capacity for a super long rant right now anyway, but... there are a few things I feel like I want to contribute if I can.

I’ve seen some people claiming that those of us who are upset about this conclusion to the show are only upset because “our ships didn’t happen.” Others seem to defend the “tragedy” of this ending as a positive element from an artistic vantage point. Those are the things I want to address mostly, I guess.

On the matter of ships: I’m a writer myself. I’ve been studying the art of story for 10 years now, so that’s usually the lens through which I view most shows and movies. And while I’m sure some might be upset over ships alone, from what I’ve seen, most have cited most of their problems with this season/the latter half of S7 as being from a story point of view. Which I have to echo.

For example: I don’t hate Allurance. Really, I don’t. It’s not my cup of tea, but I wouldn’t have had a problem with it if it felt... genuine/not rushed/not a rebound/not flat by comparison to the previous canon-confirmed ship that was Lotura. The problem with how Allurance panned out, to me, depends entirely on the context. 

Like, one of the major problems with the ship that I’ve seen is that Lance is a human boy from Earth, who loves Earth and his family there, and he’s never expressed interest in being a diplomat. Which isn’t a bad thing. 

On the other hand, Allura was the princess of a lost race, the last remaining relic of a culture that existed 10k years ago. She had dedicated her life to being a diplomat who would rebuild the universe. Once everything was said and done, she shouldn’t have been expected to abandon that role (this is, for the moment, ignoring the fact that the show did more than have her do just that). Ideally, she would have had to stick with it, lead New Altea, continue to seek peace as any good leader does.

If the Allurance subplot could’ve addressed some of these themes and complexities, I would’ve found that interesting, even if it’s not my ship. It would’ve been intriguing to see how a couple might face those kinds of challenges together. I can get behind any character relationship if it’s done well, has depth, and makes sense.

For me personally, the execution of Allurance (and then of course, Shiro and his unnamed SO that seemed to get tossed in as an afterthought) had none of these things. My distaste for these is not due to the fact that my chosen ships weren’t endgame; in the end, that’s not what it comes down to for me. It’s more about the characters and what feels right for them in context of the show as a whole, and their pre-established character arcs. 

The way it was actually manifested, Allurance felt shallow and rushed to me, Shiro seemed tacked on to the season as a whole, and all in all, I was left with a feeling like the characters themselves were not done proper justice (regardless of who they ended up with). That their potential had been let down hard.

Then in regards to the tragedy element, I’ll start by saying that I LOVE a good tragedy. I live off dark themes, it’s what I love to write myself. One of my favorite shows is Attack on Titan. All in all, I don’t mind seeing things ending horribly for characters, okay? 

But it has to be executed properly, or else tragedy just ends up feeling like blatant manipulation. Like a bid to make the viewers feel something in an otherwise shallow emotional context. 

Viewers of Attack on Titan could never complain about the brutality of that show because it establishes itself as brutal from Episode 1. It sets the tone to tell viewers ‘this is gonna get ugly, don’t get comfortable’. It prepares viewers for a rough ride, so that when we see characters die in horrible, gruesome ways, it’s not as jarring as it might’ve been had we had no warning.

Season 8 of VLD seemed to fish this tragic element out of left field. The show was not built to be a tragedy; up until the end of Season 7, there was no indication that that’s the direction we were going to take. If there HAD been evidence of it, the subtle laying of the foundations of darker elements, it would’ve been fine. But because there was no precedent for how horribly things went, it had all the emotional tact of a freight train barreling down a city street with no tracks (Inception reference, anyone?).

Lotor and Allura both became critical victims of this (though the entire main cast suffered from this ultimately). They both deserved better, and I don’t mean from their universe. I’m talking from a story point of view, as characters, they deserved better from their writers. Even if they both still ended up dying, they were both well-done characters who deserved for their arcs to reach satisfying conclusions. Especially as representative characters.

Lotor specifically spoke to me on a more personal level, as a victim of paternal abuse/neglect myself, as someone who’s constantly checking myself and my flaws because I share that fear of becoming the person who hurt me so deeply. It’s always felt like there’s no way anybody could truly understand what it was like growing up in the environment I did. Like I have to bear it alone. 

So to have a character presented with hints of these same struggles was really validating, especially when it seemed like these things were going to be called out. Addressed. Dealt with. Other characters would find out the truth about the depth of Lotor’s suffering and he would find peace and solace in newfound friendships. Such an ending is idealistic, yes. But it’s a nice thought that even if I struggle to find that kind of peace in my own life, it happened to this character. And maybe some day, it could happen to me.

Instead, Lotor is betrayed so wholly and completely by those newfound friends, based solely on circumstantial evidence, that his fragile state of mind can’t take it. Guilty or not isn’t relevant; the Voltron team stuck him in the Rift and FREAKING LEFT HIM THERE TO DIE and that was never once addressed as a problem. The Voltron team was painted as The Good Guys who totally did the right thing, until the very end when Allura (who incidentally was the one previously shown to be the most incensed/angry/bitter over what Lotor did) conveniently acknowledges that Lotor was just trying to do what was right and that he deserved better--which just fell flat coming from her, who up to that point, had not been shown to feel any sort of guilt over what she and her team did to him. Even that acknowledgement was not any sort of admission of fault on her part; only an admittance that Lotor thought he was doing the right thing.

All in all, this does not paint a hopeful picture for me as a victim. It creates a theme of inescapable pain... the idea that my trauma might haunt me so thoroughly, only death brings an escape. Heck, even if Lotor still had to die unfairly (if they had to show us those flashbacks, confirm what a horrific life he’d led, and then show us his melted corpse), the least they could’ve done is dealt with the ramifications of that... show the Voltron team realizing how wrong they were, feeling guilt and shame for their drastic, cruel actions, and THEN admit that even if Lotor had done some horrible things, nobody deserved the fate they dealt to him.

Instead, the message presented is the idea that Lotor, the manifestation of the pain Zarkon caused over the course of ten thousand years, was unable to endure his suffering. That there was no hope for him. He was unable to defeat his upbringing, and was then sentenced to a torturous death for the resulting crimes. And the people who were both betrayers and executioners felt absolutely no remorse for it. And yet I’m supposed to think of them as the Heroes. 

I don’t know... maybe all of this is just circumstantial. Maybe I’m biased due to my chosen field of study and my own personal background. But I don’t see how this season was in any way satisfying on a plot or character level... and I certainly can’t bring myself to see any beauty in the injustice of my own childhood, so it stands to reason I can’t see value in the needless tragedy of Lotor’s suffering. Or even Allura’s death (the necessity of which is debatable, btw; there was literally no explanation for WHY she absolutely HAD to die).

I can’t speak for everyone, but the thing that originally kept me watching this show was the characters. Not the plot, not the space battles or giant robots or weird aliens. I watched for the people--for Lance, Pidge, Hunk, Keith, Shiro, Allura, Coran, Lotor, etc, etc--and how they interacted, how they got to know each other and understand each other and help each other. How they made each other better. Because that’s really all any of us can hope to get out of life, isn’t it? To be known, to be validated, to be understood, to love and be loved. This is what I read/watch fiction for, because if I have a hard time finding those things in real life, then at least I can watch it happen to characters I care about.

In the end, though, this season left me in the depressing state of wondering what the point of it all was, which is probably the last place any content creator should want to leave their audience. What was I supposed to take away from this, if not the idea that this show, which obviously fell in love with itself somewhere along the line, pretended to represent many varied facets of the human condition, only to conclude those facets with pat answers, hasty romance, cheap monologues, and shallow tragedies?

I’m not angry. I am simply disappointed.

[hoeassproductions]

Break A Leg: Chapter 6

Masterlist

A/N: Disclaimer, this is a work of fiction. I do not own, possess, or have any links to Chris Evans, nor do I profit off of this work. Any claims otherwise are grossly misleading. This work is not to be posted anywhere else without my explicit permission.

If you would like to be added to the tag list, reply here or send me an ask. I’d be happy to add you! Happy reading!

Word Count: ~1,600

Self Preservation

Monday comes and goes. Chris and I only see each other in passing.  Which is probably for the better. Since Saturday when Hannah called me out for liking Chris, I feel like an already complicated situation got even worse.

Seems like our M O. Are you even surprised?

A few days pass and more of the same. Chris is busy with meetings with the other directors and I'm busy with the welcome distraction of making concept art for new costumes. It works in both of our favors.

Avoiding him won't make my feelings go away but a girl can damn sure try.

Eric and I are getting along phenomenally as usual. I ask to see his portfolio of work and he shows me props and costumes he’s helped with dating from before he started at this company 5 years ago. I can tell he’s very talented and i can stand to learn a thing or two from him. He will be a great asset to me for sure, and an even better work friend. We look over the designs I have so far and we agree that he can make a few adjustments before we send them to the head seamstress for approval.

Just after lunch on Thursday, I am able to find a few minutes of quiet by myself as I sit on the edge of the loading dock. The first time I���ve really taken a moment to myself since this week started. Listening to my music with one ear bud in and enjoying the sunshine caressing my skin, I get lost in the sway of the rhythm. I begin to do a little jig in my seat. 

Enjoying this moment of freedom doesn't last more than a few seconds when I begin to hear a loud, deep laugh from behind me. I turn around and catch a glimpse of Chris engaged in a full body hysterics as he tries to get words out.

“You just… you're really… “ he says between laughs, tears now brimming his eyes.

I begin to chuckle at the scene before me. “You alright over there?” I ask. After a few moments of continued laughter, I stand up and address the man who is beside himself in front of me. “Get it together, Evans.”

Chris stands up straight as he wipes the tears from his eyes. “Okay, I'm good. Sorry but man that dancing was something else. I was not expecting that. It was exactly what i needed.”

“Ha ha ha, I'll have you know that I'm an excellent dancer,” I say as I narrow my eyes at him.

Chris walks closer with his voice low, never breaking eye contact. He says “I'd like to see that.” With a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, he inches even closer now standing only a few inches in front of me. As I look into his eyes, I realize that the underlying huskiness in his voice indicates he’s thinking of something a little deeper than a few dance moves.

Words fail me and I can't think of anything else than standing here with him in this small moment of uncertainty .

As we continue looking into each other's eyes, a loud bang breaks us from our trance. Coming back to reality I realize the noise is from a truck being unloaded on the dock opposite from us. In an attempt to stifle my inner weirdness from finally coming face-to-face with him after realizing my feelings, I look at my watch and begin to turn to leave when he grabs me by the arm before I can make a clean getaway.

“Y/N, wait.” I slowly turn and raise my eyes to meet his. “It’s been such a busy week, I haven’t gotten a chance to really see you. Is everything OK? You seem… different. I can't put my finger on it.”

“I'm fine. Just adjusting to everything. It's all so new and I'm still settling in.”

He stays quiet, then whispers “Why don't I believe you?”

I stop dead in my tracks.

Damn it to shit.

I’m now slightly irritated, not ready for him to know anything, and i’m not prepared to accept it myself. Giving him any indication will only add more confusion. He can’t know. Not yet. I need this conversation to end. Now.

In an effort to brush off his comment, I overcompensate. “I don't know Chris. We've only just met. Maybe you don't know me as well as you like to think you do.” With his jaw now on the floor and myself in a pissy mood of my own making, I walk off.

For the rest of the week, we mostly avoid each other. Only acknowledging when necessary, which isn't too hard.

I have a quiet weekend at home without much going on. Zero distractions lead my mind to drift to Chris and how I treated him last we interacted. I felt instant regret the moment the words came out and I could see the hurt in his eyes before I turned away.

I know I fucked up. I got scared and took it out on him.

Laying in bed Sunday, I begin to think up an apology for hurting him when he’s really innocent in all of this. It's not his fault I've developed feelings and are managing them like a little bitch.

He doesn't need to know that though.

As I turn out the lights and settle into bed, my phone lights up on the nightstand. It's a text from Chris.

C: I know we haven't said much to each other as of late but I took my mom to that restaurant we went to. She loved the food so much she said it gave her family recipes a run for their money. Thank you.

I read and re-read this before I hit the dial button. He answers after the first ring.

“Hey-”

Before Chris can get much else out, I start my apology.

“I'm so sorry for how I treated you. I was a bitch and you didn't deserve that. I was frazzled and what you said caught me off guard. I just… it's hard for me to let people in and you’re you. It's not like you're some random nobody...you're a freaking movie star that actually cares about me and is my friend. In a general sense, and many others, you kind of scare me.”

“Y/N, why didn't you tell me? If I would have known, I could have helped. I'm not entirely thrilled about my celebrity status myself. I know it makes all of this, even just being...friends, more complicated. You know how many roles I've turned down or people I've avoided to try to have some semblance of a normal life? Trust me, it's a blessing and a curse but if there's one thing I've learned it’s that sometimes you have to lean into the fear. Trust someone is there to catch you.”

“That's what I'm afraid of,” I say just above a whisper.

“I didn't catch that. What did you say?”

“I said that makes sense. I'm sorry I'm not so easy to be friends with. Totally understand if you say ‘This bitch is crazy’ and want to call this friendship off.”

“Y/N, I promise you, you're worth it.”

After wiping a tear from my eye and composing myself, I ask Chris about his experience at the restaurant with his mom. We discuss how his meetings have been going and we talk for about an hour before saying our goodbyes. Laying my phone back on the nightstand I feel a weight has been lifted off my chest. I actually feel excited to see him tomorrow.

Don't kid yourself, you're a goner for sure.

Walking into work the next day, I feel lighter. Once I get into the shop, I find a covered plate on my desk with a note.

“Just a little something to start your day off right. I'm happy we cleared the air. Find me later.” - C.

I uncover the plate to find a big slice of banana cream pie topped with whipped cream.

How did he know? 

I eat half of the slice before I go to find Chris. After a 20 minute search I find him backstage talking to the stage manager. As they end their conversation, Chris’ eyes land on me. He stuffs his hands in his pockets as he walks towards me.

“Hey.”

“Hi” I reply with a smile on my face.

“I'm guessing you found your surprise” he says with a cheeky grin.

“Yes I did. I already ate half of it. How did you…?”

“Y/N, did you just get here?” Adam asks coming out of nowhere.

“Yes, why?”

“Where are your bags? We need to get them on the bus.”

“Adam, what are you talking about?”

“The two week all company/all staff annual retreat. It happens every year at the beginning of the season. We leave within the hour. No one told you?” He says.

“Clearly not. What do I do? I have nothing here.”

“You can ride with me” Chris pipes up. “I arranged to drive down later tonight because I have a few business things to attend to before I leave. If you go now, I can pick you up at your place around one.”

“Are you sure? It’s very last minute.”

“Yes, I’m sure. Now get your butt in gear!”

“Thank you, you're the best!” I say as I hug him.

“Great!” Adam says as he claps his hands together. “I'll let them know we are ready to go then. See you guys down there.”

Adam turns and walks from whence he came leaving Chris and I alone, and I realize that I willingly committed to that before thinking about the implications.

Fuck. Me. Why can't I catch a break?!

Previous Chapter

A/N: These two just can’t get it together! It’s always something! I know it’s been a bit since i posted. The holidays and whatnot, but i was feeling a little uninspired with all of the distractions. Anyways, let me know what you think! Thanks!

Tags: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @beccaheartschrisevans @avenger-nerd-mom @mycapt-ohcapt-writes @mad-for-marvel @vanillabeanlattes @captain-ariel-barnes @emilyevanston @thewife101cevans @loricameback @plussizeappreciationfics @a-tale-of-two-comics @melodramaticfanatic @writingcreatingstorytelling @kirstie-lotr @mywritingsblog @disney-fire-fox @harrinoodles @lookwhatyoumademequeue @janeyboo @aglarelen

[tolkien-fandom-history]

Interview with Angela P. Nicholas--author of "Aragorn: J.R.R. Tolkien's Undervalued Hero"

We were very excited to have the opportunity to interview author Angela P. Nicholas. Her book "Aragorn: J.R.R. Tolkien's Undervalued Hero" is an extremely detailed, in depth examination of Tolkien's Aragorn--his life, his relationships, his achievements, his skills, and his personality. It is a very worthwhile addition to any Tolkien library. She has some fascinating insights into Aragorn, book vs movie representations of the character, thoughts on the upcoming Amazon series and fan fiction as part of the Tolkien fandom. Hope you enjoy reading it!

1. How did you first become interested in Tolkien?

Answer:

Although The Lord of the Rings was very much in fashion during my student days in the late sixties and early seventies I wasn't interested in it at that stage – probably because I didn't tend to follow fashions! It was not until a few years later, in 1973, that a friend persuaded me to read it. He stressed that it would be a good idea to read The Hobbit first and promised me that I was "in for a treat". I was hooked immediately and when I got together with my future husband soon afterwards I wasted no time in introducing him to Tolkien's works as well! I re-read The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings several times during the seventies and bought The Silmarillion as soon as it was published in 1977. Further readings have followed since, especially while working on Aragorn, extending to Unfinished Tales, the twelve volumes of The History of Middle-earth and Tolkien's Letters as well.*

2. Aside from reading the books, have you had any other immersion in the Tolkien fandom? Online, through societies, other venues?

Answer:

My Tolkien-related activities include membership of the Tolkien Society since 2005, leading to attendance at Oxonmoot (most years) plus a number of AGMs, the occasional seminar and the event in Loughborough in 2012. I've contributed several articles to Amon Hen and also gave a talk about Aragorn at Oxonmoot a few years ago. In addition I attend meetings of my local smial (Southfarthing) which is actually a Tolkien Reading Group.

3. There are so many richly written, deeply compelling characters in Tolkien. How did you decide to focus on Aragorn?

Answer:

There wasn't really any decision to make, as right from the start I found Aragorn the most complex and appealing character in the book. Every time I re-read The Lord of the Rings - including delving into the Appendices - I found new depths to his character and significance.

4. What prompted you to write this book? How did the impetus to write about him, in such rich detail, come about?

​Answer:

The actual impetus came from Peter Jackson's Lord of the ​Rings films. Although I enjoyed his portrayal of Aragorn in some ways, it ​was clear that there were significant differences between the film and book ​versions of the character. For my own satisfaction I decided to re-discover ​Tolkien's Aragorn by studying all the Middle-earth writings and making ​detailed notes on anything of interest. I did not, at that stage, see myself ​actually writing a book.

5. Did you initially plan such an exhaustive and detailed study of this character, when you first decided to write the book?

Answer:

No, I didn't envisage anything so detailed. It just got out of hand: the more notes I made the more ideas I had and the thing just grew exponentially!

6. The title makes use of the word ‘undervalued’—how do you define that in terms of Aragorn and how did you come to associate that word with him?

Answer:

While studying Aragorn it became clear to me that his role in the story is a lot more significant than is immediately apparent. This is partly because the book is “hobbito-centric”, to use Tolkien's own word [see end of Letter 181 in The Letters of J R R Tolkien edited by Humphrey Carpenter], so is largely written from the hobbit viewpoint. For this reason Aragorn's ancestry and earlier life are only described in the Appendices, which not everyone reads. Thus his deeds - and their significance - are often overlooked, causing him and his role to be undervalued. Chapter 1.5 of my book in particular aims to address this problem by concentrating on the story of The Lord of the Rings from Aragorn's point of view. He does many crucial things behind the scenes, for example: the lengthy search for Gollum; standing in for Gandalf as shown by the secret vigil he conducts over Frodo during the months before the latter's departure from the Shire; and - the most significant achievement - confronting Sauron in the Palantír of Orthanc thus implying that he himself has the Ring and so diverting Sauron's attention away from Frodo.

7. If you were to consider writing a similar book about another character from Tolkien’s legendarium who would you choose to focus on?

Answer:

I find Finrod Felagund, Galadriel and Elrond interesting, especially in the light of their impact on Aragorn and his ancestry. Among the hobbits, Merry Brandybuck is rather appealing. However I have to say that I am not planning to do another book on this scale!

8. What were your thoughts on the portrayal of Aragorn in Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings movies?

​Answer:

Given “book” Aragorn's lengthy struggle to regain the kingships of ​Arnor and Gondor and to be deemed worthy of marrying his beloved ​Arwen, it was extremely disappointing to be presented with the image of ​“Aragorn the reluctant king” who breaks off his engagement so Arwen can ​sail west.

​In general I felt there was too much emphasis on Aragorn as a fighter, ​along with almost total neglect of his formidable healing skills, impressive ​foresight and knowledge of history and lore.

​Another great disappointment was the omission of the challenge to Sauron ​in the Orthanc Stone. Yes, this incident was included in the extended ​version of The Return of the King, but it appeared in the wrong place and ​also gave the impression that Aragorn lost the confrontation. (The credit for ​seeing the enemy's plans in the Stone was actually given to Pippin!)

​In addition I found the beheading of the Mouth of Sauron particularly ​disturbing.

9. Did you find Viggo Mortensen believable and appealing as Aragorn?

Answer:

In spite of my answer to the previous question I liked Viggo Mortensen's performance. He did actually look something like my image of Aragorn and he seemed to capture the sadness, remoteness, physical courage and protectiveness I associate with the character. Basically I thought that Mortensen did very well with the part he was given to play - but the part was not that of Tolkien's Aragorn!

10. Amazon has bought the rights to the appendices of the Lord of the Rings and is planning a 5 part series. Rumor has it that the first season will focus on young Aragorn. What do you hope to see in this adaptation and are there any particular incidents/scenes/events that you think merit particular attention or inclusion?

Answer: The following seem to me to be important:

- Putting Aragorn's early life in the context of “Estel”, the Hope of the Dúnedain, who has been prophesied to be the one who will atone for Isildur's failure to destroy the Ring, and who will restore the kingship of Men.

- Some emphasis on his family members: Ivorwen, Dírhael, Gilraen, the death of Arathorn, subsequent fostering by Elrond, and training by Elladan and Elrohir. Some indication of the close relationship with his foster-father would be good: Elrond loved Aragorn as much as his own children but this was not made apparent in the Peter Jackson films.

- The scene when Elrond tells the 20-year-old Aragorn his true identity.

- First meeting with Arwen

- Friendship with Gandalf from age 25 onward

- Betrothal to Arwen, and Galadriel's involvement: he was 49 by this time, so that may not be considered part of his early life (though 49 would be young for one of the Dúnedain!)

- Perhaps some reference to the events of The Hobbit in 2941-2 when we know that 10/11-year-old Aragorn was living in Rivendell.

11. What do you find most inspiring about Tolkien’s world?

Answer:

The depiction of such a complete and seemingly realistic world, and the fact that one can pick up extra hidden depths in both story and characters on each re-reading. There is always something else to discover or a new interpretation of a familiar passage.

12. Are you involved in any more projects involving Tolkien?

Answer:

Not at the moment. I have one or two ideas for possible short articles.

13. What advice would you give to those first encountering Tolkien’s work and wanting to learn more about Middle-earth and its inhabitants?

Answer:

Speaking from my own experience I would say: Read The Hobbit first then The Lord of the Rings several times, including the Appendices, before delving into other works: The Silmarillion, Unfinished Tales, The History of Middle-earth and Tolkien's Letters, plus critical works, etc. - and of course online sources which were not available when I first became interested in Tolkien.

14. In the preface to your book you mention discovering the online Tolkien fanfiction community—what are your thoughts on Tolkien fanfiction? What time frame was this and did you join the fanfiction community at that time?

Answer:

I started writing fanfiction during 2003 and continued doing it until about 2007 which was when I made the decision to write a serious work about Aragorn. One piece of fanfiction appeared in Amon Hen, and the rest on a couple of websites which I think no longer exist.

My main thought about fanfiction is that it was this which started me off writing. It was very much an experiment as my last attempts at creative writing dated back to my school English lessons in the 1960s! Without trying the fanfiction first I don't think I would ever have got round to writing articles for Amon Hen, let alone my book.

15. Did encountering fanfiction or even writing it have an effect on your thoughts on Aragorn and the salient points of his character that truly defined him?

Answer:

Yes - because the chief aim of the fanfiction (mine and, I suspect, that of other fanfiction writers) was to fill in the gaps in Aragorn's story. I scoured the text for possible motives and feelings of the people I was writing about. My fanfiction was always based on the “book” version of the story and characters (never on the film version). I did sometimes use invented characters but only to add detail and interest to the story. For exampIe this approach was used when writing about Aragorn's Rangers and when describing his interactions with the inhabitants of Bree. Some stories were actually based on invented characters, in order to try and see Aragorn through the eyes of others. This probably helped me when writing the “Relationship” chapters [see next question.]

16. One aspect of your book that to me is truly unique is Part 2, where you study and interpret his interactions and relationships with the other races and individuals he encounters in Middle-earth. What made you decide to pursue this format?

Answer:

It just seemed the most logical approach. I couldn't study Aragorn's relationships properly without also studying the other half of each different relationship. There was so much to be revealed about both parties in these studies, many of which were based around families and generations (such as in Rohan, and Gondor, and in the Rivendell and Lothlórien communities).

17. Aragorn as a character brings together elements and bloodlines from the First Age into the Fourth Age—you outline these genealogies and relationships quite thoroughly in your book. How do you think this knowledge of his genealogy affected him in his transition from youth to Ranger to King? Is there a character from the earlier Ages that you think had a more significant impact on him or that he resembles the most in character?

Answer: Aragorn would presumably have learnt about these people as a child during his history lessons, but would not have connected them specifically with himself until he was made aware of his true identity at the age of 20.

Elendil, Isildur and Anárion stand out as the obvious significant ancestors whom Aragorn would have striven to emulate - plus, in the case of Isildur, also to atone for his failure to destroy the Ring.

Other ancestors who may well have inspired admiration and/or gratitude in Aragorn include:

- Elendur the self-sacrificing eldest son of Isildur. A passage in Unfinished Tales refers to Elrond seeing a huge similarity between Elendur and Aragorn, both physically and in character. [See footnote 26 at the end of The Disaster of the Gladden Fields.]

- Amandil, the father of Elendil, who advised his son to gather his family and possessions in secret and plan an escape from Númenor in the event of a disaster, before himself courageously setting out for the Undying Lands to plead for mercy for the Númenóreans. He was never heard of again, but the Númenórean race was saved due to Elendil's successful escape to Middle-earth after following his father's instructions.

- Tar-Elendil the 4th King of Númenor and his daughter Silmarien. The royal line of Númenor and its heirlooms only survived via this female line.

- Tar-Palantir the penultimate King of Númenor who resisted the influence of Sauron and tried to turn the Númenóreans back to friendship with the Eldar.

Another notable ancestor for a different reason was Arvedui, the last King of the North Kingdom, who tried to claim the throne of Gondor as well but was rejected and ended up losing both kingdoms before fleeing to the frozen north where he died in a shipwreck. Aragorn must have regarded his own mission to reunite the two kingdoms just over 1,000 years later with some apprehension.

Ar-Pharazôn would clearly have served as a dire warning!

I wonder if Aragorn felt any unease about his namesake, Aragorn I, being killed by wolves!

A comment in Appendix AI(i) of The Lord of the Rings states that the Númenóreans came to resent the choice of Elros to be mortal, thus triggering their yearning for immortality and their subsequent downfall. Did Aragorn ever resent his ancestor's choice? Personally I think he would have had the knowledge and wisdom to understand Ilúvatar's purpose in reuniting the immortal line of Elrond with the mortal line of Elros (through the marriage of Arwen and Aragorn) in order to strengthen the royal line prior to the departure of the Elves and the beginning of the Age of Men.

18. What are your thoughts on the original premise that Aragorn was Trotter, a hobbit?

Answer:

Eeek! The grinning and the wooden shoes! I don't think that the book could possibly have had the same impact, depth and sense of history if the main characters had all been hobbits. I seem to remember that the name “Trotter” still survived for a while after he became a man. “Strider” sounds much better. I'm so glad Tolkien didn't pursue the original idea.

19. Do you have any advice for budding Tolkien acolytes and scholars who are first delving into the legendarium?

Answer:

Read and re-read, record thoughts, ideas, passages worth quoting. Read what JRRT wrote and what others have written. This worked for me, over a very long period - more by accident than design.

*this answer is the same as Angela's answer in the Luna Press interview with her as it has not changed! Take a look at that article for more information on Angela and her book. https://www.lunapresspublishing.com/single-post/2017/09/04/Aragorn---A-Companion-Book

Interviewed by @maedhrosrussandol

July 14th 2018

[artinmovingframes]

The Bitter Irony of Commander Lawrence’s artworks in The Handmaid’s Tale

[CW: physical and psychological violence against women, violence against minors, murder, racism]

These are my thoughts regarding the relation between the art displayed in the set and the tv show The Handmaid’s Tale. Over-interpretation is part of the reflexion, but please let me know if anything I said may have hurt you or seemed to be completely misconstrued.

In the 12th episode of the second season of The Handmaid's Tale, we were introduced to a new character, Commander Lawrence, who "welcomes" Emily (Alexis Bledel) into his house. The whole setup is somewhat disorienting and the artworks displayed are an important part of it, so I would like to give you my train of thoughts when we were introduced to the house and its inhabitants.

Aunt Lydia (Ann Dowd) accompanies Emily and comments on how no-one wanted her, following her history of revolt. Of course we are intrigued as to whom would open their house to her, in the context of Gilead. And when the door opened for the first time on a one-eyed Martha, Cora, I had two very opposite insticts, which were then kept up during the episode:

first I thought the Commander would be a cruel cruel man, taking the women nobody wanted anymore to do whatever he wanted to them, a sadist even worse than the "norm" in Gilead.

then I hoped it'd be a kind and considerate man, trying his best to help the scorned, tortured women, (since Emily has also suffered inhumane mutilation).

We then enter the house, a cluttered house full of trinkets, books, paintings unlike the ones we've been accustomed to before (naked bodies, abstract and expressionist art etc.). Quick side-note: most of the art on display in Commanders' houses so far were Impressionnist works, Monet in Waterford's office, Pissarro in Emily's previous commander's bedroom.

Aunt Lydia is surprised, as we are. The maid freely "jokes"(?) and talks back to the Commander as though there wouldn't be any consequence, or maybe she doesn't care about the consequences.

In the staircase, two paintings:

"Julius Caesar on Gold", Jean-Michel-Basquiat, 1981, Sotheby’s "Dark tree trunks", Georgia O'Keeffe, 1946, Brooklyn Museum

Contemporary art in these households?

But then, Commander Lawrence appears. And of course we know Bradley Whitford from The West Wing, but the role which he's now associated with is that of Dean Armitage in Get Out (what, you haven't seen Get Out? Go watch it and come back thanks). In Get Out, his racism (and that of his family) is for the first part of the movie contained to a "fascination" towards black people, hypocrite statements and intrusive behaviour. And the same uneasiness transpires through his character in The Handmaid's Tale.

During this episode, we learn from his wife, seemingly mentally broken and abused, that he is the founder of the Colonies system. We also learn that she was an Art professor.

“Life didn’t turn out the way she wanted it to. She was an art professor. She wanted everything to be beautiful.”

And like Mrs. Waterford who's in charge of the decoration in her home and chose impressionnist paintings (we can assume stolen from museums) to reflect her love of watercolor, it might be an indication that she at least participated in the decoration of the place, maybe even collected these pieces before Gilead existed. However, like everything in this world, and an earlier scene of Commander Waterford supervising the hanging of a family portrait reminds us, men are in charge, and the art surrounding them reflects on the taste and character of these men.

According to me, the art in the Lawrence household is very loud, and talkative.

The Handmaid's Tale has handled very poorly its treatment of race relations (or lack thereof), even though the Colonies are a shameless parallel to slavery and plantations. Here, the casting choice of Bradley Whitford combined with the artworks is voluntary, even though no explicit commentary is made. The irony of a Basquiat representing a black Julius Caesar hanging in the home of what would clearly be described as a white supremacist is not lost on us. O'Keeffe's paintings are known for their erotic symbolism, but here, deprived of any woman agency, the dark trunks might be an echo of a (black?) woman's body, dehumanized. This point of view is reinforced when Commander Lawrence forces his wife back to (her or their) room, and you can see in the background a painting representing two naked women, akin to the orientalist harem paintings of the late 19th century.

This manipulation of art, described as "the elite absorbing the Rebellion" is also evident in the painting by Sidney Nolan featured in the dining room during their last talk.

“After Glenrowan Siege (Second Ned Kelly series)”, Sidney Nolan, 1955, MoMA

The artwork depitcs Ned Kelly, a bushranger, an ambiguous figure of Australia's history, a defender of worker's rights, also associated with the killing of policemen. As an ultra-conservative religious system based on strict order, we could hardly see them align with the politics of Kelly; but as a sectarian minority who imposed their law by force, they might see themselves as rebels (remember the right always complaining of being oppressed by people wanting to be treated equally and respectfully...)

Gauguin is featured as well, surrounded by sculpted women torsos. in my opinion joining the contradictions of this Commander. The painting is that of christian Britton women in a landscape. For the post-impressionnist, Britanny was already an elsewhere, a place of wonder, deep religious fervor even though he was anticlerical, but not enough. He then traveled to French Polynesia where his "fascination" for the autochtones led him to abuse women, minors. We remember the art as one lauding the simple state of nature, with bright colors, celebrating pleasure and harmony, even though that art emerges from his imperialistic and machist desires and abuses.

“Landscape with two Breton Women”, Paul Gauguin, 1889, Boston MFA

The invasive and creepy conversation imposed by Commander Lawrence on Emily is ambiguous at best. I have little hope that we are presented with a respectful, righteous man. Even though in his turns of phrases he seems to disregard the hypocrite politeness of Gilead, and even their beliefs, as he seems to recognize Emily as a woman married and with a child, and not a gender traitor. But his interest is that of a man who maybe enjoys the brutality itself, celebrates genius and intellect and thinks art strives only from pain. So he appropriates that struggle, that of the artists, their history and fights. He is as entitled as the rest. His wife, complicit to a point, may have understood too late, may have felt guilt over their actions (her panick is shown as an illness when she is a voice of reason). She participated in that art deal, because she felt she could make the world beautiful, evidently according to her vision of beauty, so she bought, decorated, put varnish on a system that stripped creators from their agency, perverted their voice, or hid away their true nature.

At one point, Emily, who, as a woman, is not allowed to read, leaned over an open copy of Art Spiegelman’s Maus. The graphic novel is (as best as I can remember), about the artist learning about his family's history, the Shoah. This, too me, is as perverse as the game gets for Lawrence. He purposefully let that book open, at a page where people are shown hanged. We can imagine in this world how "provocative" art could be burnt, destroyed; maybe Aunt Lydia thought so when she entered. Commander Lawrence knows how Gilead could be compared to Nazi Germany (interestingly enough, right wing conservatives who call everyone nazis for wanting gun control, abortion rights etc. always feel offended when Trumpism and their "free thinking is called out as fascist, but I digress). Lawrence shows the totality of his power, how he controls her no matter how free she thinks she can be (by reading). He controls the narrative.

There is something potent in art, especially when we consider who owns it. Because there we either see the limit of the works, or that of the owner's honesty. The apparent failure of a piece brings about that of the person who chose to select it. Therefore, the failure, the crackling varnish, is not only that of Lawrence, whose perversity filters through his presence onscreen and not just because of how the artworks mirror his ambiguity, but a failure of the show itself, either because I gave them too much credit where it is not due, or because this awareness reflects on its previous flaws. I really hope I am wrong about this character, that he is in fact charitable, that the art is there for the wife, and allowed because he’s such an important member of Gilead (think of the high ranking officials who kept artworks for themselves in Nazi Germany). However, I wanted not to give a diagnostic but merely to try and think of ways to interpret art as reimagined in their fictional surrounding. For more debate I invite you to check the Handmaid’s Tale subreddit (as I did... after writing all this down urgh) here here and there. Other mentioned artworks I seem to have missed include Cézanne, Klimt (another wink at Nazi spoils)...

[elizas-writing]

Thirteen Reasons Why is Torture Porn; Using Graphic Violence to Make a Point

CW/TW: Mentions of suicide, rape/sexual violence, physical assault, and everything the Thirteen Reasons Why crew were told NOT to do by mental health experts

If you are in a crisis, don’t let a poorly written TV show tell you what to do; call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255) or the Suicide Crisis Line at 1-800-784-2433. Surround yourself with people who will support you without judgement and are willing to take the extra step to understand. If you’re struggling to find regular mental health resources, check out here for more options. You still have a life ahead even if it takes some trial and error to figure out what the hell to do.

So Netflix released the second season of Thirteen Reasons Why, and, what a shock, people hate it for upping the graphic violence and rape. I have no plans to watch it myself after reading through all the triggers, but suffice it to say that so little was learned from the first season. Plus, I’d rather not subject myself to that much distress for a TV show I knew there was no point in continuing after the first season. Everyone’s accounts across Twitter and Tumblr of the new season seem to match up, so I’m going off of that for this piece.

If you haven’t seen my review of the first season (with and without spoilers), I found that it definitely went too far to make a point and had really confusing characterizations, but there were select scenes, when they were done right, were kinda worth the wait-- keyword being “kinda.” There was a germ of an idea begging for good writing, but got sucked into shock value for the sake of shock value. And the second season offers no promises to improve.

Of the multiple graphic scenes of this season, the one which sparked the most outrage was the final episode “Bye” as Tyler (a serial stalker) is brutalized and raped by his male classmates. As a result of being pushed too far, he brings practically a whole arsenal of guns to shoot up the school during a dance, but Clay peacefully disarms him before he can go through with it.

So apparently the creators saw the criticism of season one and thought, “So, you want to see more graphic violence, rape, and terribly confusing characterization?”

In an interview with The Hollywood Reporter, creator and showrunner, Brian Yorkey, wanted to explore more of Tyler’s psyche and “how a troubled man might be driven to consider this very difficult choice” after the bullying and ostracization he experienced in the first season. While I’d never wish rape on anyone, even fictional people--and a bunch of characters who mistreated him are total hypocrites--, Tyler is still beyond redemption for never understanding how his behavior destroyed Hannah’s sense of safety. The show puts him through that much brutalization to force audiences to feel sympathetic towards him while never critically analyzing why his stalking and coping mechanisms were wrong and unhealthy, regardless of what else was going on in his life.

It also promotes the dangerous idea that social outcasts and/or victims of bullying are likely to eventually become school shooters, which completely ignores factors like toxic masculinity or racist associations-- as was the case for shootings like Parkland and Santa Fe from this year-- which contribute to a white male sense of entitlement. Even though the lapses in logic are all over the place in the show-- particularly Clay having an emotional breakdown with Tyler, even though he made things worse in the first place by sharing revenge porn--, people had every right to distance themselves from Tyler as much as possible.

He’s a creep in how he objectifies his female classmates, constantly collects sensitive photos for blackmail, and his main outlet for anger becomes shooting guns at bottles and live animals, because society as a whole tends to only show men how to be emotional through anger and nothing else. This doesn’t help that when he testified, he apparently wanted to befriend Hannah to take photos of her to which she rejected (rightfully so) and thus his stalking began. It’s already so back-and-forth among viewers if Hannah committed suicide out of revenge or actual mental health deterioration, and subtly putting blame on her for rejecting Tyler is up there as one of the worst things they did to her. Not to mention throughout the second season, Tyler is anonymously putting up polaroids around the school of incriminating evidence in the case, particularly with Jessica, who is already stressed as is coming to terms that she was raped by Bryce.

It’s upon these scenes that I realized Netflix’s Thirteen Reasons Why can’t decide who it’s supposed to be for. It’s not for teenagers with how unrealistic and unidentifiable the characters are, especially coming from an adaptation of an 11-year-old book with an outdated understanding of teen mental health, bullying and suicide. It’s most definitely not for mentally ill folks with a history of suicidal thoughts because it’s so graphic, violent, and triggering, and on top of which, is grossly inaccurate on how depression works. Are they making it for the same people who can stomach Game of Thrones easily?

Above all else, does graphic violence have any point in film or television?

As mentioned in their first Beyond the Reasons special, the writers argued about needing that authenticity for Hannah’s rape and suicide scenes “to be painful to watch,” but it’s really not worth it if it has nothing else to say besides “look at this excess violence; you need to feel bad.” If you need to spoon feed your audience an explicit rape or suicide scene to emphasize how horrible those things are, it’s bad writing. They made the same mistakes with Tyler’s brutalization, which like I said, only exists to make you feel sorry for him and almost forget he’s an irredeemable character.

Film and television are super creative visual mediums; there are ways to convey an emotion or theme without triggering content or alienating your supposed intended audience.

I mentioned this before in my first review, but Perks of Being a Wallflower did incredibly well in portraying child molestation and an attempted suicide without going too far. The scenes of the molestation are cleverly cut and mostly in shadow where all you can see is Charlie’s aunt rubbing his leg and hear her whispering “Don’t wake your sister.” And when he’s mentally breaking down and suicidal, the camera just pans to the knife slowly before immediately cutting to the police breaking in, and then Charlie wakes up in the psychiatric ward. It’s a gut-wrenching scene every time, but it’s also smart in remembering the intended audience and walking that line before it becomes too much. It’s a great depiction of an anxiety attack where everything overwhelms you at once, and sometimes there’s gaps in your memory in what happened while in that state of panic. It’s never addressed what happened between the police arriving and Charlie waking up in the psychiatric ward. But it doesn’t need to give those answers; what matters most is that Charlie is safe and finally going to get the help he needs.

A scene can be way more powerful in what it omits rather than what it explicitly shows. What you imagine might happen can be more exciting and/or terrifying than what any director could have put on the screen themselves.

Early horror and thriller films are among the most successful of this, especially if they’re directed by Alfred Hitchcock, the Master of Suspense. Sure, these films seem pretty cheesy when we in the 21st century are used to seeing much more violence and body horror, but they have their mark on cinematic history for a reason, and for an audience in the 1960s, this was horrifying. Take the famous shower scene from Psycho.

Instead of showing the knife penetrating flesh, it’s all edited in near-rapid cuts of “Mother” missing, Marion screaming and trying to defend herself, and shots of her feet with blood dripping into the water. It focuses more on the vulnerability of the situation, when there’s no chance for escape as you’re cornered against the wall and how quickly it all happens before you can react, complete with fast-paced editing and those high pitched violins. That kind of defenselessness freaked out actress Janet Leigh so much that she couldn’t take showers again without locking the doors and windows and leaving the shower door open. Hell, that still tends to be a common reaction for a lot of people who see this movie, and all without needing to show actual stab wounds.

And this trick in omitting some elements and highlighting others works well across genres for any scene motivated by any strong emotion. There’s probably about 50 different Disney films I can cite that do this well, but the one that sticks out the most is Tarzan.

Aside from Phil Collins singing, some animal noises, and a baby cooing, there is no spoken dialogue for the first 7 minutes, which is a really long time for an animated family film. Yeah, the song kinda hamfists in the themes of family and love from the get-go, but it’s otherwise a great introduction. You see these two families just starting out before they’re cut short by tragedy; one with the death of a baby gorilla and the other with the death of Tarzan’s parents, both at the jaws of Sabor. The former is only indicated by the sounds of the baby gorilla’s screams echoing in the jungle while we only see the aftermath of the latter through Kala’s perspective when she finds Tarzan.

Obviously with it being a Disney family film, they’re not going to actually show Sabor tearing up a baby gorilla or the human parents. As such, they have to rely on context clues for the audience to pick up and piece together everything else with their imaginations. When you think about it long enough, it’s a really dark beginning on how quickly unexpected tragedy can destroy everything you hold dear. And it’s all accomplished without going too far.

Does this mean we need to omit graphic violence entirely for a film? Not necessarily as it very much depends on what the film is and your target audience. But omission is a great practice in a story to explore what else you have to say besides “Look at this traumatizing shit. You should feel bad.” Of course, we’ll always have mindless films which just exist to be violent, and historical narratives and/or social commentaries in some cases need violence to portray the reality of a situation. But when you’re making something about mental illness with intent to help those like your characters, it helps to listen to what your audience and mental health experts actually want to see in such a narrative. And like I said before, the Thirteen Reasons Why creators completely ignored criticisms of season one and continued making the same mistakes just to milk their product beyond the source material. It has nothing else to say or do besides being needlessly gritty as opposed to creating likable characters or understandable motivations.

The only exception to this rule I can even think of is Deadpool 2.

I know it seems counter-intuitive to compare Deadpool 2 and Thirteen Reasons Why given the former’s more excessive violence, but bare with me here. I stand by that Deadpool 2 is way better at handling themes of suicide and violence in two hours than Thirteen Reasons Why ever did in 26 episodes.

The major differences? The intended audience’s expectations and well-written characterization.

Most everyone going in already knows what Wade Wilson is like. And this is definitely not the first time he attempted suicide in such grandiose and gratuitous fashion. The first film established itself as a wildly violent parody of superhero films, and the sequel continues that by poking fun at recent trends of these films going darker and grittier. In any other film, this would cross the line, but because it’s Deadpool, the excessively grotesque violence is to be expected. It succeeds in capturing the shock and dark humor (i.e Wade blowing himself up with his apartment, knowing fully well he can’t die) while still maintaining the weight of his emotional turmoil.

We actually get to know who Wade is and why he acts the way he does. There’s no drawn out mystery or fact-checking other sources or confronting side characters we don’t care about. We get his perspective alone, and that’s all we need to see his grief over Vanessa escalating to self-destructive behaviors and how he tries to find some family and meaning in life without her, even though her death is retconned in the end anyway. It’s all played for laughs, but you can’t help but feel sorry for Wade because he loved Vanessa so much, and they were a wonderfully sweet couple.

Another thing Deadpool 2 does significantly better than Thirteen Reasons Why is not forcing gray morality where it doesn’t belong, particularly when Wade tries to save Russell. It doesn’t matter if his actions lead to a horrible future; he’s just a traumatized kid who needs a proper family who will guide him. A lot of X-Men films try to play the heroes as the bigger people who are above murder and revenge. Yet Deadpool 2 doesn’t punish those like Russell with understandable hatred and motivations. It is very upfront that if you harm children, you deserve whatever hell comes your way-- which really hits home as Russell was put through metaphorical gay conversion therapy.

Meanwhile, I can’t even be bothered to care about anyone in Thirteen Reasons Why. The second season out of nowhere piles on excuse after excuse to justify the characters’ actions without them ever facing guilt or consequences. Anyone else with a remote chance at sympathy is just put through more emotional torture without rhyme or reason. I don’t care who has a drug problem, who’s gay, who dated who, the he-said-she-said, etc etc. If you’re trying to preach the ever-tired “it gets better” bullshit, when does it actually start to get better?

Sadly, Thirteen Reasons Why can’t find that point, and I don’t trust it will given how little the creators learned from the first season’s criticisms. They don’t care about creating a narrative to help mentally ill teens. They have nothing else to say or do than to make money and shoe-horned in so much graphic violence under the guise of being “authentic” to compensate for a tired Degrassi knockoff which would’ve disappeared if it wasn’t based on a well-known YA novel. Graphic violence in media is a tool to be used carefully, and of course it will vary project to project. But if it just exists to pad your “deep, meaningful” story instead of developing characters, motivations and relationships, then it’s cheap, lazy torture porn, and it’s bad writing.

If you enjoyed this analysis and what I do here, consider buying me a ko-fi to show your support!

[plussizeingenue-blog]

RomCom Recipe

Excited to have written a new story, this time with a preexisting fictional character. I have a lot of ideas for turning this into a series, so please let me know if there is any interest in this!

Also follow me on instagram @plussizeingenue, for writing snippets and prompts as I come up with them.

Pairings: disabled female reader x Bucky Barnes

Description: Reader has cerebral palsy and is invited by Tony Stark to come interview to work with the Avengers. But the reader ends up seeing Bucky every time she goes to the tower, and things...well....develop.

You remembered your first day in the Avengers tower, and the way everything smelled. It had that obsessively-cleaned smell mixed with that fresh, out-of-the-box anti-staleness that you couldn't quite describe, but that everyone universally understood. The place was taken care of. You had moved yourself up to the receptionist desk on the first floor, which was, unfortunately, nowhere near wheelchair height. You sighed, resigning yourself to be happy that there were several wheelchair enrances and exits in the tower, which was more than could be said for most places. "Hi, I have a meeting with Tony Stark?" The woman at the desk, a slender brunette woman with hair like a flight attendant, graciously stepped out from behind the counter to address you directly. "Ah, Miss Y/L/N, yes? Mr. Stark has been waiting for you." You had been your own kind of superhero up to this point. While your cerebral palsy affected a lot of the motor function in your legs, your upper half was pretty strong. You'd been out on the streets, in the car your brother had designed. It was the size of a Smart car, if not smaller, and tailored to work with your wheelchair. It gave you extra speed, and helped disguise the wheelchair in case you made any enemies. There was a full working computer, top of the line facial recognition software and police scanners. All the weapons were non-lethal as well, and there was a one-person seat behind yours in case you had to drop anyone off to the police. Plus, the top came down so you had the pleasure of personally punching bad guys when you could get close enough. Your brother was currently interning for Stark, and was the one who had brought your alter ego to his attention. "Mr. Stark, I think you'll like this guy. They're really efficient at research and ass-kicking, which are two very important things for a team of superheroes..." It had taken Stark time to decide to bring you in, mostly because he had lots of other potential new teammates. But, ultimately, you were the only one who presented something unique that no one else could offer. You were not jaded, like everyone else in the tower. You were happy, and thriving, and most importantly...you were kind. The flight attendant lady led you to an elevator that she rode on with you. You saw her daintily press the button for the penthouse, and you went up, up, up into the sky. "Mr.Stark has told me so much about you!" Flight attendant lady offered. "He says you're stronger than everyone else on the team." You smiled fondly to yourself. "I work hard, when I can. I'm humbled by his noticing me." When you finally reached the top, flight attendant lady stayed on the elevator and went straight back down to her post. You pushed the joystick on your chair forward, marvelling at the look of the place. Everything was red and sleek and modern. The room you ended up in first was a large common area, and in that area were two people: Bucky Barnes and Captain America. Cap was watching some old cartoons on the television, and laughing at them. You chuckled to yourself at the display. When you looked over at Bucky, he was sitting, curled up, reading. You felt a tightness in your chest as you looked at him. He was magnificent, with long, dark hair and a creased brow, indicative of his being lost in whatever story he was reading. You blushed when you realized you'd stared far too long, and cleared your throat to get their attention. Cap was the first one up. "Oh, hi there! Are you Y/N? We were waiting for you!" Steve put out a hand for you to shake, and you grasped it firmly. You smiled as he shook it. "Yes, I'm really excited to be here. I'm really excited to be given a proper chance." Steve nodded warmly. "Aboslutely. We're happy to have you. This is Bucky!" He turned towards Bucky, who had just approached. You turned your eyes to him and almost forgot to breathe as he extended a hand. Your shake was a bit weaker this time, but no less friendly. "Nice to meet you Bucky." you finally managed. He gave you a little smile. "You too, doll." "Steve clapped his hands together, breaking the tension. "Let me get you to your meeting with Tony, then. See you later, Bucky!" You were sad to leave Bucky, but followed Steve anyway. You didn't see Bucky's eyes trail after you.

The next time you arrived at the tower, it was for your first mission. You and Natasha were partnered together for a simple recon, as a sort of training mission to see how you worked. You glided into the common area, this time empty, and waited for Natasha to gedt you so you could be briefed. As you waited, you flipped on the television and channel surfed until you found a dumb romantic comedy. It happened to be one of your guilty pleasures to watch those types of movies. They made you hope for a happy ending of your own. "I love that one." came a voice from behind you. You whipped your head around to see Bucky there, in sweats and a t-shirt, looking very handsome. "Oh, uh...yeah, I watch them occasionally. Sometimes I'll even pay attention." Bucky laughed, and the sound was breathtaking. "I probably pay attention too much. I just like their...the way they're the same. You know what's going to happen." You nodded, turning your chair slightly so you could get a better glimpse of him. "Predicatability is the safest, most soothing thing in the world. It's like a drug." He took a seat next to you, on the end of one of the couches. "Have you seen this one before?" You shook your head. It was completely unfamiliar. "Well, this one's all about a woman who lost a child, and her husband leaves her, and she thinks she'll never be happy again. But that guy..." he pointed to the conventionally attractive man on the screen. "He changes her mind." "Seems like a heavy plot for a romcom." Bucky seemed confused. "Rom...com?" You giggled. "It's short for romantic comedy." His eyes widened in wonder. "Oh wow. Never heard that before. I'll have to add it to my list." You couldn't help yourself. "You have a list?" "Yeah..." he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "A list of stuff I missed. Being....away for so long." Just then Natasha came in. "Y/N! Sorry I'm late. We should get started." And so you left Bucky there once again, but this time you looked back and saw that he was doing the same thing. You had ventured in and out of the tower several times over the weeks, and every time you had bumped into Bucky somehow. Whether it was on your way to a briefing, in the common area, or grabbing a botle of water from the fridge, he would pop up somehow. Most times you were in a rush and could only say hi, but other times...Other times you would forget you had to be somewhere and you and Bucky would get lost in conversation, only for Wanda or Sam to find you, huge grin on their faces, and lead you back to what you had to do. But worse than those times were the times Bucky was in on the meetings. Then you had to struggle to focus, and not marvel at his adams' apple, or his hair or the way his eyes lit up. It was complete torture. As you were leaving the tower one Saturday, chatting with Wanda about your brothers' latest developments with your car and if you'd had any progress on picking a name for yourself, a hand tapped gently on your shoulder. Wanda was quicker to turn around, and she smiled knowingly at who she saw. You turned your head, and Bucky stepped into view. "I'll let you two talk..." she said, sauntering away. "Hi Bucky. Is anything wrong?" Not that something needed to be wrong for Bucky to talk to you. Right? He was totally your friend...You hoped... Bucky looked around, waiting for the leftover Avengers to disperse. When he appeared to feel comfortable, he looked you dead in the eye. His dark brown eyes were full of unidentified emotion. "Y/N..." he started. "I think you're a wonderful person." He took a step forward and grabbed one of your hands, stroking the back of it. You involuntarily tensed. While you lived a happy, fulfilling life, there were always those people who felt they needed to distance themselves from you because of your cerebral palsy. As if it was something that made you worth less. And you never let any of those people get to you, because the majority of the people in your life were nothing like that. But Bucky being one of those people? You didn't know if you could take that. "Buck-" "Please, Y.N...will you go out with me tonight? On a proper date?" You were so floored by the question you didn't have time to formulate a response. Bucky seemed to take your silence negatively, and began drawing away. You finally broke from your stupor and tightened your grip on Bucky's hand just as he was about to pull away. "I...wasn't expecting that. But I would love to go out with you. Truly." Bucky's smile was wide and you couldn't help but give him a big one back.

[easyfoodnetwork]

The Lack of Flavor in ‘Emily in Paris’ Is Only Emphasized by Its Meals

Courtesy of Netflix

Among the Netflix series’s set pieces are a boulangerie, a brasserie, and a bistro, which represent Paris as artlessly as the show’s American protagonist

Democracy in the United States is either in its death throes or just a very painful midlife crisis. We’re a country led by a very sick, very silly old man. Meanwhile, a non-ideological virus is metastasizing thanks to ideological idiocy, and a fly is the star of the vice presidential debates since it is slightly more meme-able than systemic racism. Meanwhile, I’m trying to decide whether to pay for COBRA or child care. Recession turns deeper, expressions turn dire. Sartre looks like a Hallmark card. And amid all this chaos, more chaos: Netflix releases Emily in Paris.

What could have been, and should have been, a blissful escapist confection, the Darren Star — he of Sex in the City and Younger — production is instead a croissant of poop and pee that proves, as Sartre entitled his play, there is no exit. The remit of this review, like all Eater at the Movies, is how food plays into the show. In this case, all of Emily in Paris’s ineptitude can be refracted through the show’s boulangerie, brasserie, and bistro, which, like every other aspect of the city, is simplified into inane simulacra, a fetishized form whose richness and texture has been stripped away through Instagram filters and the willful trite presuppositions, not to mention arrogance and cupidity, of the titular character, Emily.

Though the series bursts with an admixture of Parisian errata and cliche, the first true food moment doesn’t pertain to Paris at all but to Chicago, the former home of Emily Cooper, the social media manager hero (with fewer than 50 Instagram followers?) who has left the Windy City for the City of Light. Upon meeting her boss’s boss at the Parisian marketing firm to which she has been assigned, the man says, apropos her home city, “I know Chicago. I’ve had the deep-dish pizza there.” Emily begins to say how proud Chicagoans are of it when he interrupts, “It was like a quiche made of cement.” To which Ms. Cooper replies, “You must have eaten at Lou Malnati’s.” There are literally endless fictional pizzerie to slag off. Combine any vowel-heavy chain of syllables and you have a mediocre joke that would land almost exactly the same. And yet, no, Emily in Paris chose Lou Malnati’s, a deep-dish institution in Chicago since 1971. Sure, it’s a chain, but a small one, and there might be (certainly is) better deep-dish pizza out there, but why pick on Lou? This isn’t David versus Goliath as much as Goliath flicking boogers on David, and to what end? In a bid for insider specificity, the series shat on a small business. And if the argument is made that any publicity is good publicity, that simply proves that the inherent ickiness of the character is, sad to say, true to life: that all we have is spectacle.

We are, I think, quite rightly in need of some sort of frothy fantasy. I mean, how many times can you refresh the New York Times or rewatch The Social Dilemma or listen to the next NPR Politics Podcast? But it is equally true that in times as trying as these, which are — and here is a truth out of which we can not wriggle — a consequence of our dysfunction, the hitherto benign escape routes we previously took reveal themselves as not quite as benign as we thought. Would Emily in Paris hit differently if it weren’t also true that we are watching in real time how social media has rendered reality subservient to our easily shared interpretations of it? I dunno, does smoking look so cool on film when your grandfather died of lung cancer? I think not. Despite the beauty Paris has to offer, the show is built on an ugly and insidious premise. Everything is content. Nothing is real unless extruded into a social media algorithm, ratified in its existence by the likes of others. There is no present. There is only post, and posting.

Almost countless times through the first three episodes, Emily and the other characters demonstrate a complete disregard for reality in preference for the platforms of social media (in the show, these posts float on screen, complete with followers and hashtags, like ethereal projections.) Paris isn’t Paris but, as Emily tells her Chicagoan boyfriend while Facetiming as she walks, “The entire city looks like Ratatouille.” Meaning that the character’s entire frame of reference is itself a cartoonish recreation, a copy of a copy of a copy.

In another instance Emily’s friend Mindy Chen, one of the very few people of color to make an appearance in this unrelentingly white show, says, “Have you ever had ris de veau?” to which Emily replies, “Why? What is that, rice with veal?” to which Mindy replies, “That’s what I thought too. I think it’s brains or balls, but it tastes like ass.” As a frequent and fervent eater of ass, I can say affirmatively this is not the case. Ris de veau, which are sweetbreads, are not brains, balls, nor ass, but the thymus. This isn’t Chef’s Table and we don’t need a slow-motion disquisition on it but, for the love of God, would it hurt to close the loop on that in some way so that the error, and yes, defamation of a protein doesn’t stand uncorrected? No, and the reason is that reality doesn’t matter.

Now, it should be mentioned that Emily’s paramour, Gabriel (Lucas Bravo), is a chef; in fact, he is the chef at the bistro at which the ris de veau conversation takes place. He is incredibly handsome. So handsome. Like if Armie Hammer procreated with one of the sturdier barricades in Les Mis — Gabriel would be the gorgeous offspring. I mean, even though I’m quite upset about this true excrescence while contemplating his torso and face, I’m filled with jouissance, with all its Barthesian overtones of orgasmic joy. And I guess the contemplation of his beauty has put me in a good mood too, because honestly the acting throughout the series is really strong and Paris’s beauty does emerge from the shitshow unscathed and even if the boulangerie are nothing but blank parodies of themselves and the scenes within them are riddled with continuity errors, to see such vast array of batards, baguettes, pains au chocolat, croissants, and brioche is enormously pleasurable. But anyway, as angelic as he is, Gabriel can’t save this carnival of fart smell.

Look, there is smart-dumb and dumb-dumb and the archetype of an ingenue American in Paris is well-trod territory both in the hands of Star himself (viz. the “An American Girl in Paris” episodes of Sex in the City) as well as by luminaries such as Godard in A Bout de Souffle. Sometimes a naif from the Midwest is a divine fool, recognizing truths unseen by those accustomed to them. But Emily in Paris is dumb-dumb. That is to say, the show is silly in ways that I can’t imagine they meant to be. Consider the croissant. At one point, as an indicator of Emily’s rapier wit, she takes a picture of a gaggle of French women, fresh from spinning, enjoying a post-workout smoke. “#Frenchworkout #Smokin’bodies” she writes in a judge-y Instagram caption. Unremarked upon is the fact that Emily, still clad in her running outfit (which reveals, it might be noted, a totes shredded six pack), is holding a croissant — which is totally fine, but an indulgence all the same. This falls into a pattern that presents paradoxes without comment and which seem sloppy rather than provocative. The most egregious example, I think, takes place at the bistro where, unbeknownst to Emily, her potential new boyfriend Gabriel works as head chef. In a trope as well done as a Shake Shack patty, she sends her steak back, complaining it is undercooked. This is then followed by a brief very American diatribe about how, in America, the customer is always right. Is she supposed to be ridiculous or relatable? At any rate, the steak is sent back to the kitchen and then presented almost immediately with the predictable reply that the meat is cooked as the meat should be cooked. Emily is on the edge of advocating for herself when she catches sight of Angel Gabriel and, in an act again of unremarked-upon deflation, quickly backtracks to say the steak is perfect as it is. What are we left with but an increasingly futile hope that this is all pretext for a massive late-season volta in which Emily, like Oedipus or Creon, realizes her shortcomings, gouges out her eyes, and exiles herself to the periphery? No, this fantasy holds as little promise in Emily in Paris as it does in Washington, D.C.

There’s an early scene when Emily first meets her new best friend, Mindy, who is working as an au pair despite (or in spite of) her familial wealth. In this scene, the pair are sitting in a Parisian park and Mindy’s charges, two towheaded French children, are playing by a fountain. Without asking, Emily snaps and shares a picture of the kid to her account @emilyinparis, demonstrating her growing habit of photographing and Instagramming people without their consent. In this instance, I got so mad I had to get up and do a lap around my living room. What irked me so much was that taking a picture, let alone sharing it, of minors is so fucked up and, as it happens, illegal according to France’s Penal Code (Sec 226.1) and yet here passes without mention as if it were de rigueur. The gesture takes something beautiful and alive and, with an unthinking sense of entitlement, pins it like a dead monarch for the display and edification of others, imprisoning it behind hashtag bars and digested in the maw of a rapacious feed. And this gesture, which is essentially one of disrespect, is at the heart of every line, in every bite of every morsel of every meal that is served in Emily in Paris. To see something you know is beautiful made to bow in order to enter through the narrow aperture of idiocy makes one lose one’s appetite. Sure, Paris is a city of lights, of beauty, of love and, yes, croissants. But the more you love Paris, which is to say, the more you love life, with all its complexity, nuance and agenda- and metric-defying splendour, the more you’ll find Emily in Paris unpalatable, if not downright degueulasse.

Joshua David Stein is the co-author of the forthcoming Nom Wah Tea Parlor and Il Buco Essentials: Stories & Recipes cookbooks and the memoir Notes from a Young Black Chef with Kwame Onwuachi. He is the author of the six children’s books, most recently The Invisible Alphabet, with illustrations by Ron Barrett. Follow him on Instagram at @joshuadavidstein.

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Courtesy of Netflix

Among the Netflix series’s set pieces are a boulangerie, a brasserie, and a bistro, which represent Paris as artlessly as the show’s American protagonist

Democracy in the United States is either in its death throes or just a very painful midlife crisis. We’re a country led by a very sick, very silly old man. Meanwhile, a non-ideological virus is metastasizing thanks to ideological idiocy, and a fly is the star of the vice presidential debates since it is slightly more meme-able than systemic racism. Meanwhile, I’m trying to decide whether to pay for COBRA or child care. Recession turns deeper, expressions turn dire. Sartre looks like a Hallmark card. And amid all this chaos, more chaos: Netflix releases Emily in Paris.

What could have been, and should have been, a blissful escapist confection, the Darren Star — he of Sex in the City and Younger — production is instead a croissant of poop and pee that proves, as Sartre entitled his play, there is no exit. The remit of this review, like all Eater at the Movies, is how food plays into the show. In this case, all of Emily in Paris’s ineptitude can be refracted through the show’s boulangerie, brasserie, and bistro, which, like every other aspect of the city, is simplified into inane simulacra, a fetishized form whose richness and texture has been stripped away through Instagram filters and the willful trite presuppositions, not to mention arrogance and cupidity, of the titular character, Emily.

Though the series bursts with an admixture of Parisian errata and cliche, the first true food moment doesn’t pertain to Paris at all but to Chicago, the former home of Emily Cooper, the social media manager hero (with fewer than 50 Instagram followers?) who has left the Windy City for the City of Light. Upon meeting her boss’s boss at the Parisian marketing firm to which she has been assigned, the man says, apropos her home city, “I know Chicago. I’ve had the deep-dish pizza there.” Emily begins to say how proud Chicagoans are of it when he interrupts, “It was like a quiche made of cement.” To which Ms. Cooper replies, “You must have eaten at Lou Malnati’s.” There are literally endless fictional pizzerie to slag off. Combine any vowel-heavy chain of syllables and you have a mediocre joke that would land almost exactly the same. And yet, no, Emily in Paris chose Lou Malnati’s, a deep-dish institution in Chicago since 1971. Sure, it’s a chain, but a small one, and there might be (certainly is) better deep-dish pizza out there, but why pick on Lou? This isn’t David versus Goliath as much as Goliath flicking boogers on David, and to what end? In a bid for insider specificity, the series shat on a small business. And if the argument is made that any publicity is good publicity, that simply proves that the inherent ickiness of the character is, sad to say, true to life: that all we have is spectacle.

We are, I think, quite rightly in need of some sort of frothy fantasy. I mean, how many times can you refresh the New York Times or rewatch The Social Dilemma or listen to the next NPR Politics Podcast? But it is equally true that in times as trying as these, which are — and here is a truth out of which we can not wriggle — a consequence of our dysfunction, the hitherto benign escape routes we previously took reveal themselves as not quite as benign as we thought. Would Emily in Paris hit differently if it weren’t also true that we are watching in real time how social media has rendered reality subservient to our easily shared interpretations of it? I dunno, does smoking look so cool on film when your grandfather died of lung cancer? I think not. Despite the beauty Paris has to offer, the show is built on an ugly and insidious premise. Everything is content. Nothing is real unless extruded into a social media algorithm, ratified in its existence by the likes of others. There is no present. There is only post, and posting.

Almost countless times through the first three episodes, Emily and the other characters demonstrate a complete disregard for reality in preference for the platforms of social media (in the show, these posts float on screen, complete with followers and hashtags, like ethereal projections.) Paris isn’t Paris but, as Emily tells her Chicagoan boyfriend while Facetiming as she walks, “The entire city looks like Ratatouille.” Meaning that the character’s entire frame of reference is itself a cartoonish recreation, a copy of a copy of a copy.

In another instance Emily’s friend Mindy Chen, one of the very few people of color to make an appearance in this unrelentingly white show, says, “Have you ever had ris de veau?” to which Emily replies, “Why? What is that, rice with veal?” to which Mindy replies, “That’s what I thought too. I think it’s brains or balls, but it tastes like ass.” As a frequent and fervent eater of ass, I can say affirmatively this is not the case. Ris de veau, which are sweetbreads, are not brains, balls, nor ass, but the thymus. This isn’t Chef’s Table and we don’t need a slow-motion disquisition on it but, for the love of God, would it hurt to close the loop on that in some way so that the error, and yes, defamation of a protein doesn’t stand uncorrected? No, and the reason is that reality doesn’t matter.

Now, it should be mentioned that Emily’s paramour, Gabriel (Lucas Bravo), is a chef; in fact, he is the chef at the bistro at which the ris de veau conversation takes place. He is incredibly handsome. So handsome. Like if Armie Hammer procreated with one of the sturdier barricades in Les Mis — Gabriel would be the gorgeous offspring. I mean, even though I’m quite upset about this true excrescence while contemplating his torso and face, I’m filled with jouissance, with all its Barthesian overtones of orgasmic joy. And I guess the contemplation of his beauty has put me in a good mood too, because honestly the acting throughout the series is really strong and Paris’s beauty does emerge from the shitshow unscathed and even if the boulangerie are nothing but blank parodies of themselves and the scenes within them are riddled with continuity errors, to see such vast array of batards, baguettes, pains au chocolat, croissants, and brioche is enormously pleasurable. But anyway, as angelic as he is, Gabriel can’t save this carnival of fart smell.

Look, there is smart-dumb and dumb-dumb and the archetype of an ingenue American in Paris is well-trod territory both in the hands of Star himself (viz. the “An American Girl in Paris” episodes of Sex in the City) as well as by luminaries such as Godard in A Bout de Souffle. Sometimes a naif from the Midwest is a divine fool, recognizing truths unseen by those accustomed to them. But Emily in Paris is dumb-dumb. That is to say, the show is silly in ways that I can’t imagine they meant to be. Consider the croissant. At one point, as an indicator of Emily’s rapier wit, she takes a picture of a gaggle of French women, fresh from spinning, enjoying a post-workout smoke. “#Frenchworkout #Smokin’bodies” she writes in a judge-y Instagram caption. Unremarked upon is the fact that Emily, still clad in her running outfit (which reveals, it might be noted, a totes shredded six pack), is holding a croissant — which is totally fine, but an indulgence all the same. This falls into a pattern that presents paradoxes without comment and which seem sloppy rather than provocative. The most egregious example, I think, takes place at the bistro where, unbeknownst to Emily, her potential new boyfriend Gabriel works as head chef. In a trope as well done as a Shake Shack patty, she sends her steak back, complaining it is undercooked. This is then followed by a brief very American diatribe about how, in America, the customer is always right. Is she supposed to be ridiculous or relatable? At any rate, the steak is sent back to the kitchen and then presented almost immediately with the predictable reply that the meat is cooked as the meat should be cooked. Emily is on the edge of advocating for herself when she catches sight of Angel Gabriel and, in an act again of unremarked-upon deflation, quickly backtracks to say the steak is perfect as it is. What are we left with but an increasingly futile hope that this is all pretext for a massive late-season volta in which Emily, like Oedipus or Creon, realizes her shortcomings, gouges out her eyes, and exiles herself to the periphery? No, this fantasy holds as little promise in Emily in Paris as it does in Washington, D.C.

There’s an early scene when Emily first meets her new best friend, Mindy, who is working as an au pair despite (or in spite of) her familial wealth. In this scene, the pair are sitting in a Parisian park and Mindy’s charges, two towheaded French children, are playing by a fountain. Without asking, Emily snaps and shares a picture of the kid to her account @emilyinparis, demonstrating her growing habit of photographing and Instagramming people without their consent. In this instance, I got so mad I had to get up and do a lap around my living room. What irked me so much was that taking a picture, let alone sharing it, of minors is so fucked up and, as it happens, illegal according to France’s Penal Code (Sec 226.1) and yet here passes without mention as if it were de rigueur. The gesture takes something beautiful and alive and, with an unthinking sense of entitlement, pins it like a dead monarch for the display and edification of others, imprisoning it behind hashtag bars and digested in the maw of a rapacious feed. And this gesture, which is essentially one of disrespect, is at the heart of every line, in every bite of every morsel of every meal that is served in Emily in Paris. To see something you know is beautiful made to bow in order to enter through the narrow aperture of idiocy makes one lose one’s appetite. Sure, Paris is a city of lights, of beauty, of love and, yes, croissants. But the more you love Paris, which is to say, the more you love life, with all its complexity, nuance and agenda- and metric-defying splendour, the more you’ll find Emily in Paris unpalatable, if not downright degueulasse.

Joshua David Stein is the co-author of the forthcoming Nom Wah Tea Parlor and Il Buco Essentials: Stories & Recipes cookbooks and the memoir Notes from a Young Black Chef with Kwame Onwuachi. He is the author of the six children’s books, most recently The Invisible Alphabet, with illustrations by Ron Barrett. Follow him on Instagram at @joshuadavidstein.

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[ariabauer]

Carmilla Movie Theory

You’ve asked me to tell you a story, to weave you a theory. My inbox sings with your requests to try and jumble everything together. You ask. I’ll deliver. 

I’ll give it my best shot because there’s nothing I like more than a challenge. We’re sticking to the usual plan of trying to make the most ridiculous but still kinda plausible theory possible. To start us off, here’s what canon information I have to work with.

The Existing Carmilla Mythos - So we naturally have everything from the 3 seasons to work with. You’ve seen the web series. You know.

The Original Trailer - This is the one on the beach that announced the movie. Frankly, I’m curious as to how much of this will actually apply because from my understanding it was put together before they had a script. As a scene, it’s probably cut.  I’m treating the information as canon because I don’t have enough material to be cutting ANY of it.

The New Cast Information - Literally yesterday, we received the names of three new cast members. Seeing as I’m going to make the case that these are all literary references (stay tuned) just their names alone give me info. They are:

Emily Bronte

Charlotte Bronte

The Woman In Black

Now we do our magical conjecture and fun fact building to try and whip it all together into a coherent story. Basically, I’m going to write you a movie because I’m a novelist at heart and a story structure buff. We’re going to try and figure out what we can expect when the movie releases in the fall (?). Buckle up, creampuffs.

 This is going to get 7k words worth of messy from parents to exes to fish gods to old school novellas. 

 We Need Some Vampires

So Carmilla’s not a vampire any more. Let’s just get that one out of the way. This leaves us with a question: how on this green earth can you make a Carmilla Movie, a Carmilla the iconic lesbian vampire movie, with NO VAMPIRES.

Answer: You can’t. It’s a betrayal of the premise.

So Carmilla may not be the vampire but I’m going to propose that they have to add in a vampire or two somewhere, just to stick to theme. I mean, if I didn’t know the webseries and just picked this thing up, I’d be expecting vampires.

Since I’ve heard nothing about retconning Carmilla to keep her a vampire, I’m going to assume she’s human.

So where to find some vampires?

Well the biggest baddest vampire of the series is the infamous Matska Belmonde. Problem is, she’s dead. Like deader than vampire-dead dead. Literally a ghost. That said, if the picture of Sophia and Jordan means anything we may be seeing Mattie lurking around but we’ll talk about that later. Regardless, Mattie is dead and a ghost and not a vampire.

There’s Danny. Our tallest redhead was turned into a vampire at the very end of s2 and maintained her vampirism as she strode out the library door in s3. Theoretically, she’s still very much undead. However, Sharon is the one person that didn’t show up in the day 1 behind the scenes shots plus Swerve is shooting at the exact same time and we KNOW she’s part of that.

So while Danny may pop up, I’m not counting on it. If she does, it’s most likely going to be a smaller role.

There’s JP but he also seems very dead if the sacrifice at the gate during s3 is any indication.

All the webseries vampires seem to be dead, ghost-dead, vanished, or human. 

We need new ones. Lucky we have 3 new cast members who could take on the role! Let’s see if any of them could be our new vampire extraordinaire. We’ve got 2 options the Bronte sisters or the Woman in Black.

If you all thought we were going to start with The Woman In Black then you’ve got another think coming because I have a hunch that her identity is going to be the question of the movie. So naturally, I’m saving her for the end.

Plus, we know like nothing about her so we’ve got to build everything else up first then see where she fits in. You know the drill. Facts first. Conjecture second.

So we start with the Bronte sisters.

What’s Up with The Bronte’s?

I’m sure all my literary nerds got very excited when they saw the name Bronte pop up on the cast sheet. Just as Carmilla started as a novella by Sheridan Le Fanu, the name Bronte pops up in the same way. It’s a direct reference to authors from the 1800s. Specifically, Bronte is the last name of several famous writers.

The Carmilla Movie has cast two of these authors: Charlotte Bronte and Emily Bronte. Sisters. You may recognize their work.  Charlotte Bronte wrote Jane Erye (plus lots of other things actually) and Emily Bronte wrote Wuthering Heights. I’m happy to see them show up.

Except. It’s kind of weird no?

Carmilla Karnstein is a fictional character. Jane Erye is a fictional character; I’d expect Jane to show up. Instead, we’re getting real live actual people. That’s like Sheridan Le Fanu walking into the middle of season 3. We’re getting writers; not characters. How are they even suppose to integrate into this 2017 story?

Ask a question and the internet already has two theories for you:

FlashBacks or Time Travel?

When your canon is a supernatural webseries full of literal gods and alternate universes, it does nothing to close doors on literally anything happening. Which is fun for fanfic and a nightmare for predictive theories. Still, the internet has used its collective power to offer two options:

Flashbacks: Carmilla is 300+ years old. She’s got a lot of history and the idea is that we’re going to get literal flashbacks of her past. In these flashbacks, she’s going to have met the Bronte sisters and interacted with their lives. Honestly, I find this perfectly plausible as it’s like a high production value s1 puppet show. The only downside is it means we get scenes with no Laura who definitely wasn’t alive in 1848. Also I just personally don’t like flashbacks but that’s a whole other story.

Time Travel: Considering the library literally popped Laura into an alternate universe, it’s not too much of a stretch that it could pop Carmilla and Laura round in time. Basically, our 21st century girls end up in 19th century England. From the BTS pictures this is looking like more and more of a possibility. Frankly, I’d love to see Laura hurled back in time to see some of Carmilla’s past. That said, I can come up with half a dozen reasons why we’ve seen her in somewhat old timey clothes that don’t include time travel either.

Now flashbacks or Laura timetraveling to the past would allow us to see some of Carmilla vampire in this movie which is something that you’d expect to see from a Carmilla movie.

If forced to choose, I’d probably go with flashback even if I’d prefer time travel just because I don’t have any proof that there is time travel involved. That said, plain old flashbacks are MUCH too boring for our pledge to ridiculous theories and we’re going to spice it up. Personally, I think we’re going to be getting some flashbacks regardless but I don’t think flashbacks are going to be the only place we see the Bronte sisters.

May I Offer You A Different Bronte Theory?

I’d make them our vampires. Or ghosts. But vampires seem more on theme and I’ve already got an idea about the ghosts. Stay tuned.

For now, vampires. If we make the Bronte’s supernatural creatures then they can easily still be kicking around in the 21st century to interact with our cast - no time travel or flashbacks needed (although you could totally still do both).

Plus, if they’re supernatural, long-lived beings it fixes our whole writer vs character problem.

Think about it, it’s already kind of weird that we’ve got authors and real life people stepping in beside our fictional characters. The only way it’s not weird… is if they’re fictional too. So here’s what I’m proposing, Emily and Charlotte Bronte are a mix of themselves and their characters. Their books, like Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights, are semi-autobiographical. Emily actually went to Rochester mansion and then wrote a book about it. Rationale?

Every single one of the Bronte books are written under a pseudonym. You know who likes pseudonyms? The vampire Carmilla Mircalla Macrilla Arcmilla Von Karnstein.

All the Brontes were actually governesses like their characters

It would explain why all of their protagonists are so similar. It’s just them over and over.

Moms are always dead in real life and the books

All their stories take place in creepy old mansions. You know who likes creepy old mansions? Supernatural beings

Sidebar - the creepy house in the BTS photos is probably either the Bronte House or Eel Marsh House which Hollstein + Crew are investigating

You don’t think after 300 years, Carmilla couldn’t write a kickbutt novel about her life? I do. I could probably write it for her if you gave me enough time. Imagine it. The Bronte Sisters are these immortal vampires who kill time being governess for kids and happen to run into supernatural stuff. Jane Eyre is probably a tamed down version of the time Charlotte was teaching some kids and discovered some weird lovecraftian demon in the attic.

Carmilla is known for mixing up it’s ‘canon’ material. They’re the ones who put gods into a gothic novella, not me!

Plus this lets me kill two birds with one stone. I get vampires and I get to explain why a 19th century author is suddenly in my fictional story. Occam’s Razor. This is the one we’re going with. Also, it’s waaaay more fun to think of this awesome literary ladies as undead fiends.

Now this means that we don’t technically need flashbacks OR time travel to have the 19th century Brontes interact with our modern day characters. They’ve just kept right on living through history and now Hollstein can waltz over and chat with them. Honestly, looking at Day 1 set photos and Grace in that lacey dress while everyone is wearing leather jackets, it seems plausible.

Again, the Brontes could definitely be ghosts instead of vampires as ghost stories are a HUGE thing in our source material but, quite frankly, I like the vampire idea better. Regardless, it doesn’t change the idea that the Brontes are still around as some kind of supernatural being in the 21st century.

Simply because Carmilla is a vampire story, I’m going with the vampires over ghosts.

Now, of course, this just creates more questions. If they’re vampires, how are they vampires?

How To Make A Vampire

The easiest answer is that the Bronte’s are just Mattie 2.0 and more girls that Inanna turned into vampires for her evil plotting needs. Basically, they’re Carmilla’s vampiric sisters that she’s just never mentioned ever. They were just made the normal way.

Well… Carmilla’s normal way.

So as a reminder, Carmilla likes to play with what canon is in big ways. In this instance, it’s that vampires aren’t made in even slightly the conventional way. Rather than the usual biting/poison bit that we see in pop culture, Carmilla vampires are the results of the Goddess Inanna using her magical powers to bring a dead person back to life. Vampires can’t make other vampires. Only Inanna can do it cause she’s the god.

(this is your reminder that carmilla turning laura into a vamp in s3 was always literally impossible. Inanna would have had to do it.)

So for the Bronte sisters, Inanna could have turned them back in the day and they’re estranged from the family or something which is why we never see them kidnapping girls. Fine. It’s not like Carmilla is particularly forthcoming with the family info and we don’t have any other options so.... Oh wait.

We totally do.

Remember s3 when they first find out about Inanna being a god and Laura’s all “That’s like your nemesis is Zeus or Odin. And Zeus and Odin aren’t real. Wait- are Zeus and Odin real? Shouldn’t we have known if gods are real?” The implication then goes on that if Inanna is real then yes Zeus and Odin are probably real in the Carmilla universe.

Which on one hand I have questions but on the other hand OH LOOK MORE BEINGS WITH THE POWER LEVEL NEEDED TO MAKE VAMPIRES.

To which I hear your cries of “that’s pure conjecture, Aria.” First all, this is all pure conjecture. But second of all NOPE. Because Zeus and Bronte are a thing and I’m such a mythology nerd for knowing this.

Now most of you probably know what cyclops are and some of you may know that one of the eldest cyclops is named Brontes. So technically I supposed Charlotte and Emily could be cyclops. That would definitely be a twist.

However, I’m going to go with ANOTHER mythological Bronte. Charlotte and Emily are sisters. Zeus has two shieldmaidens who are sisters (twins but semantics) who are named Asprate and BRONTE. Yes, That’s right. Bronte. 

Coincidence? I think possibly.

But another part of me thinks that Zeus decided to make his own immortal peons when he saw Inanna do it and this included the two women we know as Charlotte and Emily Bronte. Their job is basically translates to thunder and lightning so these are not sisters you want to mess with.

Plus, I think it’s very on brand for Carmilla to throw some more mythology in here.

So we have the boring (Inanna) and the ridiculous (Zeus) ways that the Bronte sisters could have feasibly become vampires. Since I’ve got nothing that can prove this wrong, we’re rolling with it!

Now I’ve been ignoring the slight screams from some of the literary fans in the background reminding me that “THERE WERE MORE THAN 2 BRONTE SISTERS ARIA. EXPLAIN THAT.” (i promised @kaitlynsgonnakait​ that i’d address this somehow)

Fine. I will.

The Third Bronte Sister

So technically there were 6 Bronte siblings. The two oldest girls died of disease when they were still kids. Then Charlotte Bronte who is in the movie. Then their brother Patrick Branwell who tried to be a writer, mostly failed, and became an alcoholic instead. Then Emily Bronte of Jane Eyre fame who is also in the movie.

And finally Anne Bronte whose works Agnes Grey and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall are considered classics just like her sisters. You can often buy the works of all three Bronte sisters together. It’s like a package deal.

So where is she? Carmilla only cast two sisters.

Easy answer is that they DID cast her and she’s ‘The Woman in Black’ who has been lurking around this document all mysteriously. Boom Bam. Problem solved.

Except, sorry. I don’t think so. My first reason was simply I had a more ridiculous/better theory for The Woman in Black (who we will now refer to as TWIB because I’m lazy).

So where’s Anne Bronte?

My problem is that when you’re taking characters from the 1800s and putting them into a story where you have a canon character who was ALIVE in the 1800s, it seems silly to not have their paths have overlapped before. Certainly, Carmilla could go to these ‘people she’s heard about from Mattie yet never met’ but that’s a missed excuse for conflict. Stories live and die on conflict. How much more interesting would it be if Carmilla had history with the Bronte sisters?

And considering the thing our cast is missing is villains, I’m guessing it’s not a good one.

I’m proposing that it’s Carmilla’s fault that Anne Bronte is dead.

Linkage to Carmilla’s backstory

So let’s be realistic here. Carmilla was not a nice vampire. Even in canon, she spends the second half of season 2 literally killing people off camera and appears drenched in blood more than once. So it’s totally feasible that there’s a hundred different ways she could have killed Anne Bronte.

Probably with Mattie only because I want a flashback with Mattie and Carmilla together.

Actually, with some slight creativity with dates (and let’s face it, Carmilla has always been bad on matching their dates (jp/ell date debacle)), you could 100% make Anne Bronte part of the sacrificing ritual to Lophiiformes. In real life, she dies at 29 in 1849 which isn’t far off from the canon ritual year of 1852/1854.

After all, the Bronte story does sound like one that Carmilla’s mother would want to throw her glittering girl into. Picture it, a carriage wreck outside a lonely Thornton estate. A home with 3 girls whose mother passed away only years before in 1842 to leave their father to try and best manage their education. The historically kindly man takes in the young Mircalla after her carriage wreck and entrusts her to his slightly older daughters. Anne, the youngest and closest in age to Carmilla, becomes fast friends with her but becomes ill. The doctors diagnose her with tuberculosis (which is what real life brontes died of) but she’s then trundled off to the ritual and dies.

ALternative options: Carmilla gets in a carriage wreck outside some place where Anne is being a governess. The same thing happens except Carmilla seduces a governess because of course she does. Who’s really going to notice if the governess goes missing on the moors?

Here’s the kicker guys. The real life Brontes LITERALLY TOOK IN A GIRL WHO WAS IN A CARRIAGE CRASH. In ‘The Letters (1829-1847)’ which is a collection of letters by Charlotte Bronte she notes in a footnote that “a carriage accident occurred on EN’s return from Haworth”.

Okay. Look. That’s neat okay and even if I’m wrong about all of this (which i probably am) IT’S STILL VERY NEAT.

This scenario is literally exactly what happens in the Carmilla novella… except Carmilla gets her head chopped off too. Semantics.

After all, this is our pre-Ell Carmilla who is still pretty big on the killing thing. Let’s say that Emily and Charlotte Bronte get their Laura Hollis on and try to save their sister Anne but fail.

Either this is where the Dean changes them in vampires OR this is where they make a deal with Zeus to give them immortality OR where they die like normal people but the vengeance/sadness/feelings in their souls allows them to hang around as ghosts.

(Somewhere in there has to be a Bronte Sisters: Vampire Hunters story. Consider that option D, very Vordenberg. Hey. We have like no information on this movie. You can’t prove it wrong!)

Regardless, I’m proposing that Carmilla’s got history with the Bronte’s and it’s not a good one. That also fits with why she looks terrified enough to climb up a pole in that BTS picture. Whatever’s lurking in that house is probably got some kind of beef with Carmilla. Our now very human and somewhat defenceless Carmilla.

I just think that if you have a character with 300 years of backstory then you USE IT.

Now of course, there’s so much of Carmilla’s backstory that I have no way of knowing and who knows what the writers decided to use. However, there is one more piece of our little puzzle here that I can pop into place in Carmilla’s backstory.

Let’s talk about the Woman in Black.

It All Comes Back to Carriages

Not who she is! No no. Still too early for that but we can talk about what this is a reference too. The Woman In Black is a 1983 horror novella written as an imitation of the traditional Gothic novella that Carmilla is. Basically one precludes the other. So they already have a link right off the top. You may seen the Daniel Radcliffe movie. It’s also one of the longest running plays which makes sense when you consider that Carmilla writer Jordan is a playwright.

So we’ve got a play/novella to tackle.

While Carmilla was concerned with vampires, The Woman in Black is a story about ghosts. A basic plot summary is that this lawyer goes to this creepy old house (Eel Marsh House) belonging to an old lady who just died so that he can handle her estate. No-one in the village will go near this place but no-one will tell him why. He attends the old lady’s funeral and there’s basically no-one else there except this woman who slips in about halfway through. She’s wearing all black but it’s sort of old fashioned and when he gets a look at her face he describes it as pale and horrid. Even creepier, like 20 children follow her around and just stare at her.

At first, he thinks nothing of it but she keeps appearing and disappearing. When he stays in the old lady’s house there’s all kinds of creepy noises and a one point he hears a child screaming and the sound of a carriage crash.

A CARRIAGE. WHAT OTHER STORY DO WE KNOW THAT USES CARRIAGE CRASHES?

Eventually he figures it out. So the ghost is the sister of the old lady who owned the house. Her name was Jennet. Back in the day, she had a son but it was super scandalous to have a kid when you were unmarried so Jennet had to give the boy to her married sister to raise on her behalf. However, they couldn’t bear to be separated so Jennet lived in this shack on the edge of the marsh and her sister would send her son to her so that they could see each other sometimes.

Pro tip: do not build houses in marshes.

One day, when the boy is travelling to see her, the carriage sink into the marsh and boy dies while Jennet is forced to watch. Unable to help him. Jennet herself dies and returns as a ghost.

The Woman In Black.

She appears to people right before a child dies. The screams that the lawyer heard while he in the house are those of her son, trapped and eternally dying. The lawyer peaces out of there but years later he sees TWIB and then his son dies.

The end.

What fun!

Now we talked about how TWIB is imitating gothic style stories like Carmilla however, it’s strongest predecessor according to the author is a 1898 novella called Turn of The Screw which is a contemporary to the Carmilla novella (1872) but is a ghost story. Turn of The Screw is a ghost story about this governess whose charges are haunted by the ghost of their old governess and her lover. At the end of the story, the boy dies.

Governesses. That sounds familiar… because Turn of The Screw is basically the ghost story version of the Bronte novels published 50 years earlier. For example, Jane Eyre makes it seem like something supernatural is going on but it’s just a lady in the attic. Turn of The Screw makes something really supernatural actually happen inside the same premise.

Basically if you mashed the Bronte works, the Carmilla novella, and Turn of the Screw together and waited 100 years, you get The Woman In Black. Neat.

Could Turn of The Screw just be another novel written by the immortal Bronte sisters as they travel through immortality? You tell me.

Most of them involve governesses, most involve children, most involve bad things happening to children, and most of them have carriage crashes. These stories have a lot of links and we’re developing some pieces that our Carmilla movie writers might have pulled on to bring these characters all together.

With the inclusion of TWIB in the movie, we can assume that she’s going to be lurking around creepily and foreboding death. She could be a vampire but I like her as a ghost.

Why? We’ll get there. You wouldn’t buy it yet. Still, with her carriage crash history it’s likely that this is another lady with some kind of grudge against Carmilla Karnstein because that’s a place the writers could link both stoires.

Now this is all well and good but we still have absolutely no reason for Hollstein to up and go investigate anything. All we’ve got is that Carmilla probably has some tragic backstory with some vampires/ghosts and there’s a specter that appears sometimes before kids die. The Bronte’s and TWIB have been holding status quo for hundreds of years while Carmilla killed people and got buried and met Laura.

What changed?

Enter the Carmilla web series with it’s god killing, apocalypse preventing shenanigans.

Let’s Crack Some Eggs

We haven’t talked about the teaser trailer yet and as this is the part where we start getting out of backstory and into modernity again.

So the motorcycle bit is completely useless to me but we do get a tiny bit of dialogue that I can use. Laura pulls a multiple choice card out of the box of creampuffs and says, “Dear Professor Hollis, you’re going to come and help us because a) you’re a nice helpful lady and it’s what you do b) you’re probably pretty curious about this whole mysterious message thing c) oh god oh god it laid eggs d) if you don’t a lot of people are going to die, starting with your friends. Talk soon.”

Pushing aside the question of how in the world Laura went from a first year undergrad to a professor in like 6 years… it’s c I’m most interested in because it sounds like plot.

It laid eggs.

Okay… so we need something to lay eggs. What animals are available in Carmilla? I mean, no-one had a parrot or lizard or ohhhhhh.... Well then. I can only think of one thing with a prominent role in Carmilla that can lay eggs.

Lophiiformes. The giant god anglerfish that Vordie apparently killed in s2.

Except you can’t really kill a god, can you? That’s the whole reason they had to lock Inanna up (fyi hastur/dumuzi is a whole separate thing). So even if they killed Lophii, she’s going to find a way to come back and preserve her godly power.

It’s actually fairly in line with mythology to think that she lays eggs which stay dormant until her death when her godly powers transfer to them and start activating. It’s very Phoenix (dies and comes back as a baby). So let’s say that when Vordie killed Lophii in s2, he started her eggs going. Anglerfish lay their eggs in this gelatinous material in deep holes in the ground (a pit perhaps?). Then the eggs hatch into larvae and start wiggling around, growing on the surface until they return to the deep as mature anglerfish. The circle of life.

This isn’t the first time we’ve heard about little anglerfish worms either. Remember, in s1 it wasn’t the vampires who retook the girls. The little Lophii worms in their brains brought them back to Lophii automatically. So what happens when you have tiny Lophii babies swimming around?

Bad things.

Please recall, that Lophii keeps her power by feeding on the girls every 20 years. If she didn’t get the girls, then she’d leave the pit and go find them herself which is why the Dean kept feeding her. If she gets food then she doesn’t have to look for it and just eat people herself.

But no-one is feeding the baby Lophii’s girls on a platter. They’ve got to go find lunch. Which brings us to the first half of option D on Laura’s card - a lot of people are going to die when the little Lophii’s creep out of their eggs.

If Laura doesn’t get a move on and stop it, someone’s going to start killing her friends first.

So that seems like a pretty good reason for Carmilla and Laura to return to Silas  or wherever Laf/Perry and other “the friends” seem to be. Now, it’s hard to say who would have written this note to Laura. It’s probably not any of Laura’s friends because I find it hard to swallow that one of them would have turned villain and someone being possessed is too Dean Perry.

Could be the Bronte sisters. Could be someone we don’t know.

Could be The Woman In Black.

Hard to say though when we don’t know who TWIB is?

Who Is The Woman In Black?

This will likely be one of the big questions of the movie just as it’s the big question in the original novel. Who is she and what is she doing? I like this because it earmarks back to s1 of Carmilla and it gives me something concrete to try and figure out.

Let’s look at our options:

Mattie - If you just gave me the name “the woman in black”, Mattie would be my answer every time. Just look at her in s3. She’d literally dressed in all black. Problem is that we already know that Dominique was cast in the role and she’s definitely not Sophia so we know it’s not Sophia under the veil.

Literally anyone else we’ve already met - It simply can’t be Danny or Laf or Perry or Mel or Kirsch or anyone whose face we’ve seen because, and i repeat, WE KNOW IT’S DOMINIQUE’S ROLE. That means it has to be a character whose face we’ve never seen before.

Ereshkigal - Look, if you can’t have Mattie then the goddess of the underworld who Mattie spoke also seems like a good candidate. She’s literally the original TWIB. That said, it feels like the web series did a good job of neatly packaging away the god stuff and to pull her in would require new viewers to catch up real quick. Plus, I can’t see why she’d bother. Possible but doesn’t seem plausible.

Anne Bronte - as previously discussed, the missing Bronte sister is the easiest candidate for our TWIB. I’ve heard a few comments that the three new cast members don’t look like sisters, which is valid, but also Mattie and Carmilla looked nothing alike either. My biggest problem with this idea is that I just don’t think it’s interesting

If you’re going to create the question of “who is the woman in black” and likely build it up for 25-50% of the movie then the reveal has to mean something. We don’t know the Bronte’s. Maybe the movie could build them up enough so that we have the emotional punch at the reveal but it seems unlikely with such a large cast. Better if it’s some we (and the characters) already know under there and can react to. The more connected to Hollstein specifically, the more we’re going to get those feels.

Laura’s Mother - I know. Weren’t expecting that one now were you! (Except @ukulelekatie literally 1hr before i posted this!) However, if we’re looking for mysterious characters then Laura’s mother/other parent and her complete lack of mention seems like one of the biggest holes.

Laura, even in the novella canon, has some weird traits that haven’t really been explained. In the novella, she has a dream about Carmilla 12 years before Carmilla even shows up which is literally a predictive/foreboding dream and TWIB is a predictive/foreboding figure. In the social media at the very beginning of s1, Laura mentions that the student roommate assignment services (aka the library aka Enki the literal god) found her aura ‘weird’. Which… I mean if you had one supernatural parent that might make your aura a little odd. Laura’s also the only one to have anglerfish dreams after she’s no longer been chosen. Finally, even though I’ve explained the whole living without a heart thing before via the Death Power Drain Theory, it could explain her resiliency there. Again, possible. But unlikely.

I’m not going to say that Elise and Dominique kind of look the same but THEY KIND OF LOOK THE SAME especially with Elise’s dark hair.

So hypothetically Laura’s Mom died and came back as a ghost or was turned into a vampire. While I think it would be fascinating my problems are that it doesn’t really link into Carmilla’s backstory OR into the whole Lophii eggs thing…

UNLESS you figure that Laura’s mom was ALREADY a vampire when she had Laura (ive given up trying to figure out undead biology) and she had to leave because people would have noticed she wasn’t aging. If Papa Hollis knew that may explain his raging paranoia. This is Laura reconnecting with her mother. Which frankly… so cool. But again… I don’t know why she’d be involved with anything to do with Lophii or why she’d be dressed in all black instead of just being like “hey. What’s up. Need some help with the fish?”

Also you could TOTALLY COMBINE THEM. If you make Laura’s mom a vampire before she has Laura then she can be as old as you want. You could totally make Laura’s mother the missing Anne Bronte who is parading as the TWIB. Sure, that creates the above challenges again but it’s a neat idea.

So this didn’t help narrow it at all. Maybe if we do a little more digging

What other loose ends do we have lying around? The anglerfish babies are rising and out to kill. The Brontes are probably mad at Carmilla for some reason. We’ve got a creepy old house.

What do we know about TWIB? She’s a warning figure of death She doesn’t actually kill anyone. She’s related to a bunch of children and her whole journey is started by a carriage crash. She’s a ghost and her clothing is a key trait about her. Her reveal has to matter because it’s a plot question but she can’t be anyone whose face we’ve seen before. At the same time, she has to be connected to our main cast so that we get the emotional punch.

So I need a ghostly girl related to Lophi who has angsty history with a carriage and our cast while acting as a warning of death and is someone we viewers have emotional connects to even though we’ve never seen her face and-

Oh.

Oh no. Creampuffs. We just mentioned this and I blew past it because I was looking at the wrong end.

Carmilla - “The charm should have chased the dreams away.”

Laura - “I don’t think it’s the vampires. It’s the girl. The girl in the nightdress…. She said maybe not to go into the light ‘cause the light is hungry.”

Creampuffs, I think The Woman in Black is going to be Ell.

Carmilla’s long lost love whose face we’ve never seen but we’ve heard her tragic tale of woe straight from Carmilla’s mouth so we have emotional investment. It would take about 5 seconds of movie time to remind us of that and educate new viewers. Ell was swallowed up by the anglerfish but she’s always been different from all the other girls. She’s always been the one who has been reaching out and trying to warn new targets to flee away.

What if she never stopped?

We never learn what happens to the souls after Lophii dies. We know Carmilla sees Ell at the pit but we never heard anything more of her. Carmilla spent years trying to drive girls away.

So did Ell.

What if, upon the anglerfish’s death, Ell stays either to save others or for typical “unfinished business ghost reasons” or because she’s tied to the gods power and has to. She gets enough of the power lying around to take on a ghostly form and when the anglerfish babies start growing and getting free, she tries to warn people by appearing before them. TWIB in black has never killed people, she’s always been a warning.

A warning for children. So that what happened to Ell will not happen to them.

Her white nightdress transformed into black robes after everything she’s seen.

Can you imagine that story? A story where Carmilla and Laura are living happily together until they’re summoned back to Silas to save the day once again by a mysterious letter threatening to start killing their friends. Where they arrive to find news of a stranger woman in black appearing right before people start dying and Laura wants to stay to try and reason with the specter. Get to the bottom of it.

After all, “we’ve already been through the apocalypse, Carm? What more could happen?”

A story where Carmilla just shakes her head with a sigh and a smile while she fiddles with the engagement ring in her pocket where only the camera can see. Their search brings them to a creepy old mansion and they rent it out because “creepy mansions are like obviously supernatural, carm!” and assemble the team to help them. Laf and Perry and Kirsch and Mel and even though Laura has tried to find Danny, the vampire does not want to be found.

Something about this house rings familiar in Carmilla’s mind and raises the hair on the back of her neck but she chalks it up to being human and carries on. More interested in the way, after 5 years, Laura still listens to her heartbeat when they sleep.

Until, as they sleep, the supernatural begins to take hold. Smoke and fog. Shrieks and silence. A bronte sister is the first to appear, bringing words of history and telling them to leave. For although they have tried to be peaceful, she will kill Carmilla for past grievances if they stay too long. Perhaps the vampire Bronte’s are still playing the game. Bringing back the fish and letting it feed it’s fill. After all, that’s what the Dean made them for.

The Woman In Black will come and go but never to Carmilla. It is only Laura who gets to see her face. It pings familiar, like something from a dream, but she doesn’t know where. She tries to speak but the woman says nothing back but warnings.

People keep dying. TWIB always appearing as a warning before. They will assume TWIB is the one killing them. Hollstein has made these assumptions before. This time Laura knows better. 

Laura resolves to capture her. She’s got the truth that way before and she can do it again. Yet the plan goes awry and when Laura reaches out to grab, TWIB whisks her away. She whisks her away to 1872 where Laura ends up in a period dress and sees a familiar face who she knows but does not know her. The vampire Karnstein is too enamored with Ell to see anyone else and Laura realizes who TWIB actually is.

Ell is as lost to time as Laura is. 

Somewhere, Laura will realize Carmilla has a type when it comes to the girls she loves and even though she knows it’s irrational. Her heart will throb a little as she watches Carmilla dance with Ell even as Laura is there in flesh and blood.

Carmilla meanwhile has known Laura’s disappearances before and while she may be a vampire no longer, she is still a moth to a flame. She barges into the Bronte’s home and demands their help. Demands explanations.

Laura returns and the reunion is tinged with a hundred different feelings. Laura who has seen her Carmilla and alt Carmilla but has never known a Carmilla who didn’t love her. She knows now. Carmilla will consider proposing but ultimately will hold off because Laura deserves only the best moment.

The Bronte sisters will show them the anglerfish eggs but the revelation will pale in the light of Laura’s admission that TWIB is Ell. The scenes between Laura, Carmilla, and Ell will break all our hearts. Together they’ll save the day and fight back the Bronte sisters looking to finish the Dean’s work, unaware of her change of heart.

Ell will finally see all the girls sent to freedom and, as she fades away for what is truly the final time, she will pick up the ring where it fell out of Carmilla’s pocket and press it into Laura’s hand with a sad smile.

And Laura will propose to Carmilla in the dust and ash of their victory.

And we will all break in the best way.

You asked me to write you a theory. You asked me to tell you a story. There are a hundred different versions and a hundred different possibilities because we have so little information. So this is the one I choose to tell today. Tomorrow I may rewrite this tale where the woman is Laura’s mother, where Ell is a descendant of the Bronte’s, where Elle is a Bronte and laura’s mother, where Laura turns evil, where twib is evil, where gods come back, where the world burns again, where brontes are ghosts, and TWIB is a vampire.

But today I choose to weave a theory that makes a love story. Where Carmilla gets the closure with Ell that she’s been waiting for and where Laura gets to understand a carmilla she never thought she’d see and love her all the more. This was always a love story. Our story written in Hollstein’s veins and the larger story around it written in Inanna and Hastur.

Love will have it’s sacrifices but love still always wins.

I’m @ariabauer and that’s The End.