#lets begin Scarlett O'Hara

[christinered]

It's about to become most uncomfortable.

You aren't going to like this at all.

Oooooh but I will.

Ready?

~Red

[sliceroftpeirweirisles]

"I'm one seventeen-inch waist away from being Scarlett O'Hara" - Taako, Petals to the Metal

After having the Emilio Pucci Fall 2015 Galaxy Boots live rent-free in my head for ages, I finally found the perfect reference post to match. A day and a half later, and the sacrifice of my drawing shoulder from every tiny detail, this was born. I'm so elated with the results. In my personal headcanon, I'd like to imagine Taako has "100% That Bitch" energy after The Day of Story and Song. He doesn't let it get to his head, (he knows his humble beginnings) but he absolutely will give the Fantasy Paparazzi one hell of a show at any given moment.

I'd like to once again thank mellon_soup on Patreon for the use of their incredible catalog of pose references (Pose reference (public) | Patreon) which I link here so all you cool babes out there can see their work too.

[imaslutforwritingshit]

𝘽𝙤𝙧𝙣 𝙏𝙤 𝙆𝙞𝙡𝙡 ➫ 𝘼 𝙈𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙡 𝙊'𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙖 𝙍𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚.

⚠️WARNING-SMUT+VIOLENCE. 16+

This is my Wattpad story about Miguel;) please support me on that platform as well for more stories!

TEASER-

˚₊ "𝙎𝙩𝙤𝙥 𝙙𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚. 𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣'𝙩 𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙, 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙧, 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙙𝙖𝙮, 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙜𝙤𝙙𝙙𝙖𝙢𝙣 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩.

𝙊𝙥𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙮, 𝙎𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙩.

𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪.

𝙉𝙤, 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩.

𝙄 𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪."₊˚

𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

𝚂𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝 𝙰𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕, 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙽𝚎𝚠 𝚈𝚘𝚛𝚔'𝚜 𝚂𝚙𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛-𝚆𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚙𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚢 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎, 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏��𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕.

𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚝?

𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖?

CHAPTER ONE- THE DOOR TO HELL.

𝙼𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍,

𝙼𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗.

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎,

𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐,

𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐,

𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚎.

CHARACTERS-

-Miguel O'Hara

• Age- Mid-30s

•Height- 6'9 (This, in fact, is canon)

•Eye Color- Crimson

• Hobbies- Working out, fighting, saving the timeline, and cooking.

-Scarlett Allen

•Age-18-19

•Height-5'7

•Eye Color- Dark Brown

•Hobbies- Running on buildings, fighting, reading poetry, looking at nature, conversation.

MAIN SETTING: SPIDER SOCIETY- NEUVA YORK

MOODBOARD-

MIGUEL O'HARA

Reality mocks me. I hate the word. Hate it, because there's nothing real about reality. Nothing stable. Any moment now, the universe can tug on all of your hopes and beliefs about reality, and shatter them into nothing but fragments of glass.

I don't want to say the speech. Honest to God, I really don't. But he says it's "canon," and when that word comes out of his mouth, you should probably listen.

He told me to say it. And maybe I'm a irrational for doing everything he says. But he, he is the remaining weakness I have. And maybe that weakness is human.

And maybe, I'm clinging to the idea of weakness, so I don't lose the only sense of feeling I have left in me.

I promise, I'm as done with the speech as you are. Trust me when I say, I've heard it so many times I want to rip off my ears.

Hi. I'm Scarlett Allen. I was bitten by a radioactive spider. And for 3 years, I've been the one, and only Spider-Woman. Blah, blah, blah. Hope he's happy now.

I guess I should start at the beginning. I'm guessing you are a little confused.

2 months ago-

I think I'm falling for him.

Literally.

I'm falling down a 600 foot building, because the son of a bitch threw me off. I spotted the green monster when I was on my way home from the deli. I've been fighting it for over 15 minutes, and honestly, I'm getting bored.

The wind is strangely silent up here. It's almost comforting, blanketing my body with the summer breeze.

I wish I could stay here forever.

But I'm not just a spectator of the city- I have to be the savior. No one else will step up for the job, so here I am. After all, I'm wearing this suit for a reason. I look down at the purple spandex covering my body. Woah, my hips look great from this angle. No, not now. I shift my gaze to under me, where the ground is rapidly approaching my limp body.

My nose lets out a little huff of irritation. I really wanted this to be a normal school night, but of course E.T over here has to put on a little show. I hear the monster that threw me off the skyscraper digging it's claws in the glass of the windows. The ground is closer, the monsters claws are getting louder-

WOOSH. I swoop my body up the side of the building at the last second. My spiderwebs stuck to the glass, and I break them off quickly as I run sideways, towards whatever villain is ruining my night.

My breath is a steady pace I've managed to control, matching the light footsteps of my run on the windows. I peer through the stained glass to see women and men in ties, backing away from me, as paper flies around the office. I snorted a little as I jumped to the last floor of the building- the rooftop garden. I wonder why they were so afraid- no matter how strong alien guy here is, the walls are stronger.

The glass on these new buildings are my favorite area to bait the villains. The windows are sturdy enough to easily endure my weight, and pretty much every monster I've chased here as well. Since the skyscrapers are so high up, citizen casualties are at an all time low. Really, you would wonder why the police is still after me. I'm pretty much doing their job free of charge.

"I will kill you." The low rasp of the monster was snaking up the other side of the roof. I jumped on top of a greenhouse and stared down at him climbing up the walls. "I will kill you slowly, and then hang you in the sky for the world to see! This city will know my vengeance. You cannot escape-"

I yawned loudly on purpose. "Yeah, yeah, buddy. Let's get on with this. I'm really stuck on my calculus homework right now. Hey, can you tell me what the hell the slope of a function is?"

The monster bellowed a horrible roar, and charged up the rooftop. He  lunged up in the air, splaying his long arms out in a chokehold position no doubt for me. I rolled off the roof of the greenhouse, and grabbed a random pot full of succulents, then hurled it at the horned monster. The terracotta shattered instantly on his hard body, and it growled- a disgusting, ravaged sound.

I was over this shit. I could've been home, drinking my mother's supply of whatever alcohol I could get my hands on. My anger fueled me enough to find a blind spot. The monster turned around, grabbing a shard of the broken pot to throw at me, and I leaped to its back. His rotting muscles were moving under his skin, and he roared, but I was already twirling spider web strands around his neck. Cmon, more. My eyes narrowed in concentration as I looped the web around his neck just enough to force pressure, and I tugged. The monsters neck was as thick as my waistline, but I pushed against its ribs with my feet until I had enough momentum to choke him completely.

Success. I heard it's roars slow into heavy heaves for breath. One, two- my arms were straining. And then suddenly, the monster collapsed on its knees, and fell to the ground. I felt my fingers shaking. As I caught my breath, I discarded of the extra web on my finger gloves, and wiped my hands on my thighs.

The sun was setting now. No doubt my mother would be waiting for me. I heaved another breath, and looked around the small garden for any sort of weapon to finish the monster off.

Success again. I located a little ax laying near an open toolbox, and I fished it out. I fiddled with the small tool on my hand. I don't want to kill. And I don't think I'm a murderer. Because if I were to kill, to murder, I would have the blood of something alive on my hands.

But these- these horrible, parasites of this strange world- they had no heart. They weren't alive. The monsters started invading our world when I was 14. The same year I felt that sting of the spider in the dark alley of Brooklyn. The same year I trained myself to fight, to kill.

I twirled the ax in my hand one more time, and looked down at the monster. His mouth was open, brown teeth imperceptible in the fading sunlight. His nose was flaring, but he was still unconscious. I took the chance. I positioned the ax over his chest, and waved my hand in a goodbye gesture- as if he could see it.

And I hurled the ax into his heart.

The blade sinked onto his lungs. Despite the fact he wasn't awake, he wailed in pain, thrashing his claws in the air, and I dug the ax deeper into his body. Blood shot from his mouth, and after a few hard seconds of struggling, the body went weak.

I stood up, and shook my legs a little. The police always discarded of the bodies. Where- I didn't know. All I had to do was shoot a picture of my symbol- a spider made of my web slingers, on the side of whatever building I dropped the body off on, and boom- sirens would show in less than 10 minutes.

I checked the time on my watch. It was 8:40pm. The sun was gone now, a small sliver of orange fading behind Manhattan's skyline. I let out a small groan, sat down on the edge of the roof, and kicked my feet off the building. My cellphone was strapped in a secure pocket with a zipper. I began dialing my Mom.

"Where the hell have you been?" My mothers voice was scratchy and frantic.

My hands were covered in blood. "Um...martial arts practice. Yeah. Jujitsu." I cringed at the lie.

"Jujitsu? What the hell, Scarlett? Get back home, now. I can't trust you anymore. After this, you aren't leaving the house. You are grounded, for....Jesus, for as long as it takes for you to get some sense in your head. There's pasta in the fridge." The phone clicked.

I had no idea how to explain any of this to her. Lying just seemed easier. I've gotten used to lying to the ones I love. Maybe I've lost any sense of humanity left in me, but being a vigilante has its burdens. I just wish I could balance being a teenage girl with it too.

I'm 18. Graduating high school in a year. I'm pretty smart, decent at computer science. But how can I go to college, and leave this city to rot with horrible creatures, without the world finding out that I'm spider-woman?

I don't have all the answers. I don't expect to. But I wish it could all be...easier. I wouldn't feel less alone.

Three claps. Three slow claps behind me.

I whirled around and braced myself for a fight. And there....there I saw something, in all my years of fighting monsters I've never seen.

It was a guy. He had a strange mohawk, and a leather vest over his body. Spikes were on his wrist, but his style wasn't what caught me. He was made of...comic. His body was shrouded in glitching squares and newspaper article blending in with the night sky. I gasped softly. I have never seen something so animated in my life, in front of me.

And his eyes... he was wearing a mask that only I could recognize. My mask.

"Who are you?" I'll admit my voice was a little too shaky for my taste.

" I think you already know." His voice was thick with a British accent, and his tall body slinked over to me slowly.

"How...how do you have that mask...and how are you...." My words caught in my throat.

He groaned, and slumped a little. "Whatever. Let's go, love. Gwen'll explain everything."  He grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the edge of the roof.

I shrieked, and attempted to twirl out of his grasp. "I'm not going anywhere with you!"

He ripped off his mask with one hand, and his eyes met mine. Brown hair flowed in his eyes, and his jaw was set in frustration. "Listen, I'm sure you're a tough girl, but I'm a hell of a lot stronger. Alright, let's go. Just orders, that's all."

He clicked something on his wrist, and light blinded me. I shut my eyes in the sudden burst of white, but when I opened them, a strange hexagonal shape was in front of me. It was a warping orange portal.

This had to be fake.

This had to be a dream.

Is this where the monsters were coming from all of these years? 

I turned to the guy next to me. He looked intimidating, but a twinkle of kindness in his eyes met mine.

I repeated, this time with a weaker tone,

"Who are you?"

And yet, all he did was grin- a flash of white to my eyes. He lunged, threw us into the portal, forcing me to follow through.

Light blinded my vision. A sharp white, sting surrounded my entire body. I could feel my insides swirling as I plunged through.

What the actual hell just happened?

CHAPTER TWO- THE FALLEN ANGEL

The ground solidified under my feet again. I exhaled in relief, and the man who had grabbed my wrist loosened his grip.

I dared, I dared myself to open my eyes. As I did, my mouth dropped in shock.

The room was red- pure red light coating the walls, floor, and ceiling. Up ahead, blue light slipped through the area, causing a strange purple haze to blur in my peripheral.

"Where....am I?" I was so amazed by my surroundings that I hadn't had time to even fight my captor. I twirled my gaze up the ceiling, to find a small, strange black platform in the middle of the air.

The boy stepped in front of me, and held out his hand. It was almost twice the size of mine. He had black fingernails, and when I met his eyes, he lazily smiled again.

"My names Hobie. Hobie Brown." His voice was so thick with an accent, I could hardly understand what he said.

I narrowed my eyes. "Answer my question." I felt my fists curling already.

He grinned, and pulled out a chair from a small desk hidden in the dark. He sat down, and lifted his legs up on top of the desk, rocking the chair back and forth with his weight.

"I don't think he wants me to spoil it, eh? Do you, Miguel?" He shouted the last words to the sky, and I focused my eyes to see what, or who, he shouted to. And there, on that dark platform in the sky, an even darker silhouette was sitting down- head bowed down, legs dangling off the platform.

It was a man.

The only way I could tell he was a man with the lack of light - was his broad shoulders, and defined arms holding his body up.

I called out tentatively. "Where am I?"

I needed to find my way back home- I can't even imagine how worried my mother is now. The only thing keeping me from beating up the punk kid "Hobie," is the information he has on wherever I am. And how the hell I just teleported.

The man said nothing. He didn't move an inch.

The dark red room was painfully silent, only a tap of Hobie's fingers on the desk.

More silence. I heard my breath quicken.

"Leave us." The man's voice vibrated across the room, bouncing off the walls, a smooth, deep sound.

I furrowed my brows and attempted to calm my pounding heart. "Uh...me? Leave you? Yeah, I'm okay with that, just... tell me how to get home. And how did I get here?" My head hurts at the impossibility at the fact I just jumped through a portal.

A low, deep snarl filled the room. "Not you, him." He viciously pointed a finger at the punk in the corner of the room.

Hobie rolled his eyes. "Ay, this bloke treats me like a pain in the ass. Really, if you just judged my character a little better-"

"Leave us." The man's voice vibrated through my body, and I tensed at the authority in it.

But Hobie didn't seem fazed. I watched as he rose from the seat, muttering things under his breath, and walked to two large doors on the opposite side of the room. He leaned his body through the doors, unnerving my heart with a wicked smile, and slammed them with a quick force.

And then we were alone.

I stared back at the man on the platform. His head was bowed, as if he were in defeat. But I could see the outline of clenched hands on the metal he sat on.

"I need to go back home." I could hear the shakiness in my voice, and I flushed with embarrassment.

He said nothing again. I could make out the sound of his heavy breath from all the way over here.

I raised my voice. "Take me home."

And then, slowly, the man raised his head. I saw a faint head of tussled hair. But that wasn't all I saw in the dark.

Two, piercing eyes of red were staring at me. I gasped.

"Your eyes..." I couldn't take my own off of them.

He tilted his head all the way up, and leaned on his arms, slouching backwards.

The room was filled in hot silence. My heart was beating even faster now. I have fought and killed robbers, petty thieves, monsters, aliens, you name it.

But no one radiated such terrifying power before.

"Home?" He laughed, a low sound escaping his lips. "I think you'll find this place a lot more inviting than that shithole you protect."

I felt anger rise in me, and I hissed. "I'm not staying here." My voice echoed in the large room. There was red, red everywhere. On the floor, in his eyes.

And I blinked, but suddenly, the dark figure wasn't anywhere to be seen. I frantically darted my eyes around the room. Where did he go??

WOOSH.

I felt a presence behind me. I whipped around to see him- the man standing two feet away from me. My heart caught in my throat.

He was easily a foot taller than me. Maybe, even more. I was 5'7, but his entire body towered over mine. His muscles were so broad, I felt as if I was half his size. Strong, defined shoulder blades and large biceps, a small waist with abdomen muscles tight under the fabric of a suit I recognized all too well.

It was my suit. For some reason, both Hobie and him have Spider-Man suits, and I have no idea why.

And I stared up into his eyes. The effort had me arching my neck all the way.

His eyes were blazing- fire melting my insides slowly. I watched the rise of his chest, the sharp fall.

"I can't risk you leaving." His voice was a rip on my heart, so rough that I felt my body shudder again.

I backed away a step. "I need to go home." My voice was just a whimper now.

His mouth twitched up in a predatory growl. "You have to make this your home. Trust me when I'll say you'll enjoy it." He stepped closer to me.

My body was gelatin, and a scream started building in my throat. I didn't even want to try attacking him. I have a feeling he could pin me down in seconds.

"What do you want with me?" My voice was breathless.

He tilted his head up, and a smile spread on his face. I gasped. Two sharp fangs poked out on his lips.

My legs were so wobbly, I wasn't sure they could support me anymore. Who was this man?

As if he read my thoughts, he tugged on his sleeve- and said, "I'm Miguel O'Hara. The leader. Of, well," he gestured two strong fingers to the room. "Of this. The S.S."

"The S.S? Social security?" I asked, with faint curiosity.

He scoffed. "That's less embarrassing, sure."

I growled. "You need to tell me where I am,

who you are, what the hell you want from me, and how I can get back to my city."

"Planet," he corrected.

"What?" My fingers started trembling.

He grinned again, painfully shiny fangs glinting in the red light. He stepped closer and cocked his head, and yet his eyes looked exhausted. "Planet. You are on a different planet." He clicked his tongue. "I hate orientation. It's a waste of my time. Ask around for Gwen. I'm done." He twisted and started marching towards the door. I chased after him.

"What do you mean?" I sounded squeaky and high pitched, but I didn't care. "Planet? As in a other planet?"

I jolted as Miguel flashed next to me. His eyes were piercing mine again, his lips too close to my forehead. I'm trying to stop my heart, I'm trying to stop my breathing. How he moved that fast, I had no idea.

"The only reason I'm even considering you is because Jessica said you were right for this job." His voice was a hiss trailing down my spine. It warmed my core, and I didn't want to consider why.

"I have no reason to even bother with another spider-girl. I have enough of those on my hands. And you," he shoved his index finger on my collarbone. "I hope you're stronger than you look, because, well, I could kill you with fingers."

I stared in bewilderment as he began towards the door again, and with a fatal slam, shut me in the room. I had no idea how to process the whirlwind of emotions in my body.

Who was he? Where was I?

Panic rose inside of my stomach, but I forced it down.

Fear does no good.

So my next option- find out what fuck is going on.

I guess I need to look for a "Gwen."

CHAPTER THREE- THE PRETTY PRISON

Not even the red room, filled with technology of the most advanced degree could prepare me for what I opened the door to.

I was in an airy, light modern area. Sunlight streamed through windows around the entire perimeter, and thick metal rectangles- perfect for shooting webs on- slanted on every wall and surface. It was strangely beautiful- a spiders haven, I felt. And as I focused on the people around me more, my mouth dropped. (For, like the millionth time since I've been here.)

Dozens, hundreds of people were slinging and jumping around me. Some were walking upside down on the rectangular metal, others were shooting webs and sticking to the ceiling. And almost everyone was wearing red and blue. My heart thrummed against my chest.

Everyone around me...was me. As if I was in a different body, a different reality. There were tall men, short girls, robots and animals, even cartoons somehow constructed into a real person. But despite their obvious differences, every single one of them reminded me of the person in the mirror.

I gaped at the people around me. A cat flew over my head, right before someone in a blue and red costume flew to the other side of the room. It was chaotic, full of spider men and spider women- but I felt a sort of comfort in the grand room.

I felt a poke on my shoulder, and my body flung to the person who had touched me.

She was blonde. A rough undercut, with dyed pink at the ends of her hair. Her eyes were sharp, feline.

But also kind.

She was wearing the exact same suit I had- just in white and black, and a white hood stuck out from the sides of her shoulders.

I saw a tentative smile reach from her lips. "I'm Gwen. It's nice to meet you. I take it, spider-woman? Me too. Good to have another girl around here."

My mouth had already fell. "Why are there so many....me's?"

She laughed a short, light laugh. "C'mon. I'll tell you everything."

Gwen was walking me towards a darker hallway, with hundreds of large staircases the color of the night. As we pushed up the staircase (which was unnaturally steep,) Gwen continued to speak.

"I know it sounds crazy at first, but I guess crazy is our world. Fighting bad guys and shooting webs. I mean, we should pretty much be used to crazy, but whatever. This," she paused, and gestured the building. "This is the S.S. Spider Society."

I furrowed my brows. "That's what it stands for? Miguel wouldn't tell me." I wavered at the sound of his name. Our interaction had been so strange. He was angry, tired, restless.

Every word he spoke was full of a tension that I didn't know how to release.

She snorted. "Yeah, he hates our little nicknames. Like the spider-verse, he hates that too."

"The spider verse?"

She cleared her throat. "Yeah. Here's the crazy part. We are Spider-Men. As a collective. There are hundreds, thousands, even millions of realities- and each one has the one and only Spider-Man."

She turned to me, with a soft look on her face. "So just so you know, you aren't alone. Everyone has lost something, one way or another."

The night that I've tried to forget for so long flashed in my mind.

My father.

A shoot of pain covered my heart. Gwen cringed, as if she knew what I was dealing with by my expression, and she patted my shoulder for comfort. I cleared my throat.

"That's not possible."

She rolled her eyes. "And monsters are?"

I shook my head at the impossibility. Sure, I travelled here through a strange portal, and there were hundreds of Spider-Men jumping around the previous room, but I couldn't fathom the idea. Multiple realities.

That means I'm not alone.

"How?" My voice was small. "How is this real?" I stared at the palms of my hands.

We finally made it to the final step of a large staircase, and Gwen sighed from the physical effort. "I'm still trying to figure that out as well. It's best that you don't question everything. Makes living life a hell of a lot easier."

I turned to face her. "That doesn't answer why I'm here. Why did Hobie take me?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Hobie grabbed you? Not Jessica?"

I nodded, confused. "Who's Jessica?"

She smiled then, a breath of relief. "Oh, you'll like her. She's cooler than Miguel. But- you are very important to the mission." She looked around uncomfortably.

"What mission?" My voice felt low. "Why, why me?"

She flicked her head around the area. "Let's go to my quarters. I don't want to risk anyone hearing."

She began walking forward. A navy tunnel surrounded us, with small LED lights of white on the ceiling providing some sort of brightness, but otherwise, the hallway was dark.

Black and red doors with large locks were on each side of the corridor- every one with a small room number. I breathed sharply when I looked at one of them.

"100,024? How many rooms are there?"

She scoffed. "Don't even bother counting."

The realization hit me. There were millions of people just like me, in millions of different realities. A large part of me wanted to forget this even happened, and go back to my smaller high school problems. What happened to being the friendly neighborhood spider-woman?

We walked halfway through the hallway, and she stopped. My feet abruptly halted on the blue marble under me. 100,048. That was her room. She pressed a hand on the door, and a red light formed under her touch, scanning her fingers, and-

"Enter. Access granted." A high pitched female voice radiated from the now green imprint from under Gwen's hand.

"Woah...." My mouth was in a permanent O.

A smile twitched on a side of her face. "Yeah, that's Lyla. You're probably gonna like her too." The door hissed, and Gwen turned the knob.

I stared in shock at the marvelous room. A giant modern bed, with pink light emanating from under the frame. Large, white and black pillows were strewn on the white blanket. A drum set, red and blue, covered the other side of the room. Two electric guitars hung from the wall.

But the window....a floor to ceiling window covered a complete plane of the room. A balcony was perched right beyond it, and the view...

I would see the entire green city. Trees and lakes and mountains drowned the architecture of a familiar New York.

"Welcome to Nueva York." Gwen said from behind me.

Oh, right. Different planet.

"It's beautiful," I muttered, walking to the thick glass in a daze.

Gwen walked to my side. "Thanks. Your room has a similar layout, but, you know, you can design it whatever way you want." She hopped to a small marble kitchen diagonal from the bed, and opened a large silver fridge. You want anything?" Gwen fiddled with a box of what looked like protein shakes.

I shook my head, and turned to the view once more. This place was so foreign, but so, so beautiful. My body relaxed, and I slipped onto a small red chair she had near the window. Yet, sudden realization crashed into me- the reason I was here.

"What mission?"

Gwen sighed heavily, and jumped on the bed, kicking her legs and cracking open a bottle. "So you know now that there are multiple spidermen. Our goal here- is to preserve the canon." She took a sip of the chocolate liquid.

"Canon?" I questioned.

Gwen set the shake down, and sat up straight.

"There are events in the timeline of every Spider-Man. Certain realizations, villains, deaths..." her voice caught on the last word. "And in order to protect the timeline, you cannot, for the life of you, mess up a canon event."

I nodded, yet my head was still in a daze. "And what does that have to do with me?

She looked at me with a strange light in her eyes- as if she was feeling pride.

"Well, us- we protect the timeline. Certain Spiders have power that is greatly useful in the S.S. And you- you have the best fighting abilities of us all. Well, besides Miguel." She smiled with all her teeth. "But it's basically impossible to beat him."

"So, you want me to fight for people I barely know? Because I can lay a punch?" I bolted up from my chair. "I really can't be here. Calculus-"

"Calculus doesn't mean shit anymore." Gwen stood up to look me in my eyes. "This is the only thing that matters anymore. If you want, you can say goodbye to your mother. But otherwise," Gwen raised her chin. "This is your home now. The fucking fate of the universe is in your hands. I don't care how selfish you want to be- you have to help us. This isn't a choice anymore." She huffed and sat on the edge of her bed, slumped over her own body.

The shock of her words hit me like a fist I couldn't avoid.

"Fate of the universe?" My voice was weak.

Gwen nodded her head to gesture for me to sit down. "Alright. It all starts with a boy named Miles." She breathed in, with a hesitation I couldn't distinct.

I took a seat next to her, and she went on.

"Miles is-was- one of my friends. He was bitten by a spider, like all of us. But, that spider wasn't there for him. It wasn't canon. He's not supposed to be Spider-Man."

I nodded slightly. "But what does that have to do with me?"

She furrowed her brows, and looked down. "Miles... he escaped Miguel." She chuckled softly. "I guess he's the only one who ever has." Her expression turned dark again. "That's why he's so dangerous- his unnatural power. His anomaly"- She opened her hands in a sarcastic gesture. "It kickstarted a whole chain of other spiders, who are also forming mutational spidermen- and the entire multiverse is cracking."

She shook the hair out of her face, just enough for me to catch her hateful expression. "I wish he could've stayed. But that- that idiot..." she gasped quietly, and with surprise, I saw a tear drop to the blanket under us. "He ruined his chance for a happy ending. Maybe even a happy ending with....." Her voice trailed off. "It doesn't matter anymore."

Her face was set, stone filling her light eyes. "On the other hand, you don't disrupt the timeline at all, due to the invisibility factor you obtained."

"Invisibility!?" My eyebrows shot up. "I have an invisibility factor?!"

"Uh...yeah...you didn't know?" Gwen raised her  hand in a casual defense.

Silence dropped in the room as I tried to comprehend what she just drowned me with.

"Invisibility?" My words were meek. How, how could I have never noticed I had a power?

"Most spidermen have special abilities. With yours, you can infiltrate the plans of Evil Spiders, capture them, and leave without harming the timeline or yourself." She stood up straighter. "It's honestly perfect." Gwen tried for a smile, but her eyes remained sad.

"Wait...so I kill spiders? Just the bug?"

Gwen laughed. "Oh, Scarlett. I wish it were that easy." She slapped a hand on her thigh. "No, when we refer to Spider's, we mean spidermen. The ones you have to track down are rupturing the timeline. It's just a...more universal term. Yeah."

My mind was lost. It was all too much to process- all so much, so much that changes everything.

Gwen stared at the sun, just setting over the forest under us. The orange light melted on her face, eyes almost yellow with it. "I understand how you feel. I was the same way. We all were, once. Let's just...I'll show you to your quarters. I'll explain some more on the way."

I stared, too, at the setting sun. I couldn't deny the wonder I felt for this place. So many people that can relate to me, so many people I didn't have to hide my true identity from.

Beautiful rooms, a mesmerizing view, and an angry, but, in a way, enrapturing leader. My heart longs for an escape. I wouldn't have to hide anymore.

But my mother flashes in my mind. Her dark curls, twinkling eyes, melodic hum when midnight breaks, as she heats up pita bread over the stove. And my heart hurts at the memory of the city, vulnerable without me. I was a star, I was a savior, to my city.

I remember a long time ago when my Dad was still alive. He had told me that when the world relies on you, you must stand tall and listen.

And I know what I have to do.

So, as she keeps rambling about this new world I was shoved into- I nod at Gwen, fake a smile, then close the door of my dark room.

It would be so easy to stay.

But I must stand tall.

So when this building, all these people, will fall asleep,

I'm going to run away.

That’s it for this post! Look at my others for the rest of the story ;)

[lingshanhermit]

Lingshan Hermit: The Practitioner and Movies

Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche said: Movies are the modern thangka paintings. He is a great director himself and an amazing teacher. I think what he meant is that the art form of movies illustrates some of the most essential and profound concepts in Buddhism very well. I completely agree with this perspective.

I have always wanted to write a book about movies. Many people know me as a practitioner and writer, but few know that I am also a movie enthusiast. I have a large collection of Blu-ray discs. Other than practice, writing, reading and sleeping, watching movies is how I spend most of my spare time.

When you are sitting in a movie theater watching a film, do you know that the movie you see is just your own interpretation in your mind, and this interpretation is unique to you alone? You may watch Pulp Fiction with your best friend, but you will never see the same movie she sees, and she will never see the movie you see. There may be scenes that make you both laugh out loud, which further enhances the misconception, making you wrongly assume that you are seeing the same thing, that you understand each other perfectly. But it is impossible for you to see the same thing, because each person has a different life experience and karma, even if two people graduated from the same university, grew up in the same neighborhood, read similar books, and know mostly the same people, they would still be unable to see the same movie. The movie that each person sees is different. In the eyes of a hundred people there are a hundred Scarlett O'Haras and a hundred Walter Whites. Over the years, I have come to experience more and more how utterly impossible communication really is.

Let's first look at how we watch movies: When our eyes are watching the images on the screen, and our ears are hearing the sounds, what happens? Our eyes and ears will transmit the information they receive moment by moment to our mind. Our mind will then compare and interpret these images and sounds based on our life experiences and knowledge. And react accordingly. This may sound very mechanical to you. You probably feel you are not that mechanical. But according to Buddhism, we are exactly that mechanical. We are like pre-programmed robots that react differently to different situations. But because each of us has different karma, different mental afflictions, and different cultural backgrounds, when faced with the same information, we react differently. The same words, the same facial expression, one person's reaction may be to laugh out loud, another may feel utterly depressed, and yet another may be completely puzzled. This is very interesting.

When I described how we watch movies, I said our eyes grasp and interpret those images and subtitles frame by frame, and our ears grasp and interpret those sounds. You should know all this happens in a split second, probably less than one-thousandth of a second. I have just slowed down the process thousands of times to demonstrate it to you. As for what exactly we can interpret from those images and sounds, that depends entirely on our life experiences, cultural background, karma and merits. Therefore, what we see is simply a projection of our own mind. Those images and sounds themselves have no inherent meaning. All meaning is imposed by us. They are empty in essence. Those images and sounds are empty. If they were not empty, how could there be thousands of ways to understand them? In fact, not only are those images and sounds empty, all things are empty in essence.

From the Dzogchen practitioner's perspective, the way movies operate is very similar to how our mind works. Each time we go to the theater and the movie starts, you see a beam of light shines from behind and projects onto the movie screen. Then the previously empty screen begins to show advertisements and stories of joy and sorrow. Our mind operates the same way. When we perceive anything, this is what happens: (let's again go into slow motion at a thousand times slower) Our eyes come in contact with an object, grasp the image of it (like taking a photo), then the image is transmitted to our mind, compared and matched with information previously stored, if a corresponding concept is found in the database, we project that concept onto the object. We recognize: this is a calligraphy knife. Then based on that, we develop further thoughts on whether it looks good or bad, what shape, color it is, where it was made etc. If we find it beautiful, we may generate the desire to own it. Afflictions ensue as such. Similarly, our ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind treat the sounds, smells, tastes, sensations, and thoughts they grasp in the same way. We affix conceptual labels onto every sound, every smell, every taste, every tactile sensation, and every thought. Our mind conjures up concepts out of thin air and projects them onto every object we perceive. This happens countless times every second, and in multiple sensory aspects simultaneously. Our eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body and mind incessantly grasp sights, sounds, smells, tastes, tactile sensations and mental phenomena, conceptualize them. Therefore, from the Buddhist perspective, the world we perceive is an extremely complex and uninterrupted 3D illusion manufactured by our mind. In fact, for ordinary people, except for a few exceptional moments, what they perceive their entire life is only the enormous illusion created by their own mind. They are wrapped in a world made up of concepts projected by their own mind. They have never seen things as they truly are. Our self-referential system is airtight. It blocks off almost all possibilities for us to glimpse reality. When we see an image, hear a sound, or feel a sensation, the self system immediately grasps, interprets, conceptualizes, telling us what it is. We can do this with almost no thinking at all on our part. All this happens in a split second – so fast that we cannot detect this process at all. We do not feel at all that there are innumerable concepts standing between us and the object, obstructing us from seeing it directly. We truly believe what we see is the object itself. We also truly believe the concepts about the object are inherent in the object itself rather than imposed by us. If your practice is right, you may slowly begin to experience this process. So far, all we have seen, heard, and felt is but an airtight web of concepts manufactured by our mind. This is how the self deceives us. According to the Dzogchen teachings, it is only when our delusory system momentarily malfunctions or freezes that wisdom briefly surfaces. It is only then that the conceptual world we carry around can crack open a little. But very soon, it gets sealed up again by the dense web of concepts. Our so-called practice can be understood simply as an effort to sabotage the operations of the self-referential delusory system. You pry open a gap in the conceptual web, and keep expanding it. That is the practice.

As just another sentient being called humans, we have always been deceived by illusions. As our eyes watch the movie screen, we think those images are real, that they form a continuum, when in fact, our eyes trick us – we only see a series of rapidly changing still images. When these images move rapidly, we feel there is continuity in the footage. We feel we have watched a whole movie. When in fact, what we call a movie is but a series of still images moving rapidly plus some sounds. It is said each second 24 frames (or 48 frames) flash by before our eyes. Our eyes simply cannot detect the gaps between the frames. We perceive other things the same way. As water streams down from the shower head, you cannot discern the gaps between water droplets. Another example is the iPhone – when we press down on the screen and swipe down, it appears that an actual page has been scrolled down by us. But that is just an illusion. The iPhone screen senses countless touch points, so when our finger presses down and swipes down, myriad points on the screen change at lightning speed, completely surpassing our eyes' ability to detect, thus giving rise to the illusion that an actual page is being scrolled down by us. This sufficiently shows how unreliable our perceiving consciousness has always been. The Buddhist masters of the past said: When we pass a clay pot from our left hand to our right, out of habit, we feel it is still the same clay pot, when in fact, once something has moved from here to there, the original clay pot no longer exists (of course, "no longer exists" is just a relative term, ultimately, there never was a clay pot at all). Impermanence does not mean the pot broke or decayed, even from a relative point of view, it changes completely moment to moment, arising and ceasing constantly. But our perception makes us feel it is still the same pot. That is how our perception tricks us.

When images are projected onto the movie screen, the screen itself does not gain anything, the projections do not impact the screen itself in any way. Just like how our projected concepts do not actually impact the objects themselves. When the projections stop, nothing is missing from the screen. Even during the movie showing, there is still nothing on the screen, it is just that when images are projected onto it, we can no longer see the screen itself, we can only see the projected images. If you can understand this, it is extremely important Dzogchen theory.

This is why I am so fascinated with movies, they always give me lots of inspiration. Of course here I am just talking about the art form of movies inspiring me. The content of many great movies are also tremendously inspiring in themselves. Some directors are practically emanations of Buddhas. I have always seen movies as one of my teachers. I have learned many things from this teacher. Over the years, I have been writing about the Dharma I perceive in movies. I’m sure many can relate to this, and I hope those who can come across these articles. But if you are not a seasoned practitioner, and have not genuinely practiced the Buddhadharma yourself, reading these can be quite difficult for you.

Written by Lingshan Hermit in December 2013, revised in August 2019.

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灵山居士：修行者与电影

[whoreofabaddon]

Good morning my love. Who are some of your favorite “feral women” in media?

This is going to be slightly hard to answer, because usually I have an attachment towards the other sort of female characters. I love the coolly cutting but outwardly collected women in media the most; dainty and underestimated women are my favorites in stories. Despite frequently loathing things she does, the first would actually be Cathy from Wuthering Heights. I used to hate her when I was younger, but as I grew up I began to appreciate the feminist points made by Emily Bronte. The fact is that Cathy is trapped by the societal pressures to let go of her past being free beside Heathcliff in the moors. This is when she is at her happiest and she is most genuine. She's wild and raw still. She's most honestly herself when she's beside him tumbling through the grass, but as she begins to grow up there's only one way that she sees to truly remain together. She believes that she has to conform in order to protect him, but she's sacrificing her integrity and his honor to do so because he would become nothing but her (for lack of a better word) mistress. The second is none other than Scarlett O'Hara from Gone with the Wind. This might seem like an odd choice to some, but I think that she's completely savage and that her survival focus certainly makes her 'feral.' As with Cathy, Scarlett is trapped by the confines of polite society and feels she is made into something purposefully helpless. It doesn't suit her and so she defies the norms when she's able to seek out her own (frequently decidedly selfish) desires. Ultimately, Scarlett discovers that there is very little that she will not do when given the motivation. And, because this is tumblr, I will add the disclaimer that I am fully aware of the revisionist nature of the book and not think Scarlett is a good person but rather an interesting and well developed character.

More questions about female characters please!!!

[decomarc]

Not too many actors or actresses can claim TWO Academy Awards: Leigh's first for what is considered one of the greatest roles an actress can have as the immortal Scarlett O'Hara in Gone With The Wind (1939, MGM) and her second award for her mesmerizing performance as another southern belle as Blanche DuBois in A Streetcar Named Desire (1951, Warner, Brothers). To begin with Vivien Leigh had two strikes against her: she was Bi-polar and she suffered bouts of Tuberculosis throughout her life and she would eventually die from the disease on July 8, 1967 at the age of 53. Can you imagine any other actress then Vivien Leigh in the role of Scarlett or Blanche? Most probably not, I cannot see another actress giving a better performance than Vivien did. In all of her portrayals of her film characters she was: unsentimental, detached, and never giving or asking or expecting any for sympathy. Perhaps she was predestined to make her mark in a film so sprawling, so epic as Scarlett O'Hara in Gone With The Wind. Scarlett was not a character that was likeable but she was tenacious, she was determined and she was strong-willed but you wanted her to see her come out on top. She was the center of it all when filming Gone With The Wind. Vivien's interpretation of Scarlett O’Hara is perfect – she never hits or makes a false note. We never see acting, we only see the character, as close to a real, living person to any actor could ever create for the screen. Vivien had the unique power of intimacy which kept her performances fresh long after many of her commentaries have faded away. With the possible exception of Paulette Goddard, the other leading contenders for the part would have had difficulty articulating One also has to give Vivien credit for being the main reason why Gone with the Wind is the most famous movie ever. She is in 99% of this 3 and a-half-hour epic, she has to carry this massive production on her shoulders. And boy, does she succeed! Another very interesting aspect of the film is Scarlett's friendship with Olivia de Havilland's role as Melanie Hamilton, they both have great chemistry between the two of them, Vivien is perfect in showing her mixed feelings towards Melanie, her dislike and admiration at the same time. I remember reading this quote and I could not agree more, "It is such a natural performance of a truly larger-than-life character that “Fidlee-dee-dee” seems to be the only word to describe it…I really give a damn!" In 1951 Vivien Leigh would receive her second Academy Award for another Southern Belle in A Streetcar Named Desire (Warner Brothers). While Streetcar was a professional triumph for Vivien, playing Blanche took its toll on Leigh’s mental health. Portraying and identifying with someone so near insanity was overwhelming for Leigh as she absorbed Blanche’s psychology in a way that was hard for her to let go of. Later, when she was ill, she would often recite lines from the play. As she put it, “Blanche is a woman with everything stripped away. She is a tragic figure and I understand her. But, playing her tipped me into madness.” The fact that both of Vivien Leigh’s Oscar-winning portrayals are some kind of Southern Belles would make it easy to see Blanche DuBois as an alter ego of Scarlett O’Hara but where Scarlett O’Hara had the strength to adjust herself to a new life, to new circumstances and situations, Blanche DuBois is exactly the opposite as she cannot leave the past behind, lets it haunt and torture her, influence her actions and finally breaks her. Vivien Leigh gave a performance that dug so deeply in this character’s mind and portrayed such unforgettable moments, that it is one of a few movie performances that can truly be called a work of art proofing once and for all the greatness of her talent and standing as a symbol for movie acting at its finest.

Vivien Leigh, Oscar, 1940

[darklingichor]

Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell

Buckle in kids, this one has my analytical muscles flexing!

I always said that I absorbed some of this epic through osmosis. GWTW is my mom's favorite book and one of her favorite movies. I remember wandering in and out of the living room at least once a year while she watched it. I would listen with half an ear as I played in the other room. A movie so long as to have an intermission just couldn't keep my attention as a kid. Of course I knew the story, just like I knew the story of a lot of fairy tales that I'd never actually had read to me. I didn't actually sit down and watch the movie in it's entirety until I was in my 20's. I liked it. It was well made, the acting was great and the story for all it's wince worthy moments and the surface polishing of such an ugly period in american history, was compelling.

I've never been able to get through the actual book. The reasons are going to sound a little silly. When I was younger, I thought : Why read it? I know the story. Tara is a plantation pre civil war, Scarlett lives at Tara, she's spoiled, she marries out of spite, gets widowed, Atlanta burns, she and her family become poor after the war, "As God is my witness, I shall never be hungry again" she works hard, almost loses Tara, she marries for money, saves Tara, works hard, is widowed again, marries again, rocky relationship, a child passes, "Frankly my dear, I don't give damn", end credits. In between she pines over a guy she can't have, and manages to be all around an unpleasant person in general. Done and done.  I was probably too young to read it then anyway.

When I got older and realized that a book could be complex with horrible things in it. I thought I should read it. But, every copy of the book I seemed to find had tiny tiny print and no paragraph breaks (the later being a a typical writing characteristic in the past). Even with my glasses I have a hard time reading a book in that format. I skip lines, reread lines, I always end up,with a,pounding headache. No matter how good the story it's hard to get into when you can't physically read it. I had the same problem with Little Women. I eventually got through it but it was difficult.

Well, now there's audible. For once, I didn't have a book I was chomping at the bit to listen to and I thought: Why not? I listened to other books I couldn't get into for whatever reason. So, one credit and 48 hours (spread out over the last three weeks) later. I made it through.

Let me say, this novel is rich in language, as in it is well written and has much to analyze. But every time the n-word was said I flinched. Every time a black person was infatlized, or threatened, I felt angry, I was pissed off by the caricatures and happy slave narritive. Everything I have read about the author points to her evolving her views on black people after her novel, which is good. However, it doesn't make the characterization of black people any easier to read. There are racist things in the book, writing about a bunch of well to do people in the antebellum south, I'm not sure how an author could avoid it without Clorox-ing history, which honestly, she did enough of with her mythical view of the way enslaved people were treated and felt. It was a narrative I often heard in school, in the PNW, in the 90's.

The story went that depending on where someone fit into the hierarchy of slaves, some were well treated and loved. Because of this, when emancipation came, some slaves were afraid to be, or didn't want to be free. This of course served the purpose of making an awful period in US history seem softer than it was. "Sure it was bad, but it wasn't that bad."

As I studied more, this viewpoint was replaced with a "Nope, this was just bad, as in monumentally criminally bad."

I think Mitchell, when she wrote the book, thought she was being accurate, but considering she learned her history from veterens of The Confederacy, it is not surprising that she was wrong.

Because of the one dimensional way that black people were written, it's hard for me to really dig into the symbolism of their characters. I'm only marganially good at this, as you will soon see.

I will say this: I liked the book for many of the same reasons my mom gave me for loving it. For it's descriptions and it's style, for it's symbolism. I like it for it's depiction of a culture in flux, of the impact of war for those on the home front, of the all too human condition that one never sees one's self as the bad guy. I do not like it for the characters. Rhett is an asshole, Ashley has a lot in common with a wet towel, only less interesting. Melanie is okay but can at times, give one a toothache. Scarlett is a brat. The glorifying of a time when people owned other people is disturbing, full stop.

It was those parts that made me profoundly uncomfortable and I had to remind myself over and over that this was a novel about civil war Georgia and the rich people that inhabited it before, during, and directly after. This was how those people would think, talk and behave. It was wrong then, it's wrong now.

Now, I'm going to look at the symbolism in this book because I found it facinating.

Gone with the wind is far more complex than I thought when I was a kid or after I watched the movie. The collective consciousness holds Rhett Butler and Scarlett O'Hara's romance to be the heart of the story... But it's not. Scarlett herself is the heart of the story. Honestly, Rhett driffs in and out when Scarlett needs either a dose of levity, a hard dose of truth, or a leg up on a hard fight. He doesn't rescue her, he helps her get the tools, and shows her the path to rescue herself.

Scarlett is an odd character. She has so many good points and bad points that she is nearly neutral. She's self-centered, but will fiercely care for and look after those she considers family, or as she calls them "my own". She will, on the surface ( for as the book says, it was all surface with her) resent every step taken, dollar spent, or moment given but she will keep doing it. She's opportunistic and ruthless with it, but she doesn't do it for the hell of it, she does it when backed into a corner. She's inpatient with her children, but her actions show that she loves them. She wants to do right by the social customs she was raised with and that the South cling to even after the war, but she's far too practical to pay them any more than lip service unless they fit her purposes.

Katie Scarlett O'Hara *is* rural Georgia. The colors that are always used to describe the land and Tara are red, green, black and white. In Scarlett we have described, red lips, green eyes ("without a hint of hazel"), white skin and black hair. She often wears these colors as well. Scarlett grows and changes along with Georgia and in fact, the reader is treated to the change of Georgia in a way that makes it more important than the changes of the characters. There are long stretches of discription of Georgia, especially Clayton County where Tara is. Long passages of the feelings of Georgia's people, before, during and after the war. Scarlett's life story from age 16 to age 28 are placed in between, and I have to think that the composition of the book was deliberate (I've never read any literary analysis GWTW, this is just me rambling). 

Scarlett is told by her father, early in the book, that an Irishman's land is like his mother. Gerald O'Hara, an Irish immigrant, goes on to tell her that this kinship to the land is the same for anyone with a drop of Irish blood. In Scarlett, this goes further, for not only is the land her mother, she is,truly it's daughter.

Since she only swims in the shallow depths of her mind, she is unaware of her deeper waters. She does have them, she just pays no attention to what lives there. Weirdly, what lives there is what truly moves her. Early in the book the reader is told that although she didn't know it, she loved Tara, she was at peace there.

Nature is neutral,nature doesn't care about wars, politics or customs. At her core Scarlett doesn't care about these things either. Throughout the book the reader is told, that Scarlett doesn't care about anything that didn't directly affect her. This is true, and she is called out  fairly often by other characters for being self-centered. However, her selfishness has a different feel than say, Bella Swan, Veruca Salt, or various other literary brats.

Scarlett feels less like one only,out to further her own interests and more like one who is trying to maintain her niche in her environment. For a living thing to thrive, their environment must support them. When an environment changes, the living thing either adapts or dies. Scarlett adapted.

Unable to convince Ashley Wilkes to break his engagement to Melanie Hamilton, being more obvious about her feelings for him than she thought, facing shame and questions to her reputation that would devastate her social standing and also possibly damage her family, she took swift action. She married Charles Hamilton, Melanie's brother. Why? It would shut up those who thought her in love with Ashley, thus saving her reputation. Plus, she figured it would hurt those she saw,as a threat to her. Like a river wearing a path around a tree, she avoided the obstical and continued on.

So if Scarlett is Georgia what about our other big characters?

Rhett is change, and time, like Scarlett he's nearly morally neutral.

Ashley is the past, he's the southern gentleman that the culture out grew.

Melanie a sheltering force. She reads as sweet and proper, but is always supporting Scarlett, even when her choices do not line up with the social system.

So, let's look at each of these characters in relation to our green-eyed force of nature.

I’m going to start with Ashley. Scarlett is fixated on him from the beginning. One can make many arguments as to why. He’s the only man not falling all over himself to get her attention, he very much represents the white knight to her, having “fallen in love” with him when he rode up to Tara after being away from Twelve Oaks, the reason as old as time, because she can’t have him, and her father says he’s not a good match for her. All of these are true, but to look at it from the symbolism angle:

Scarlett is Georgia,. The land and the plantation culture, she’s comfortable in her world at the start of the book. She doesn’t care at all about the war. It’s something that’s happening around her, something she is dreadfully bored by. Ashley represents that comfort, being with him means keeping things the same, staying the girl who only has to worry herself with parties, and being a plantation wife. Life would be slow and easy.

Time goes on, when everything goes wrong and Tara falls into poverty, Scarlett adapts. This girl who only a few years before married a man to save face, had never expected to work, now has to bust her tail trying to keep everyone fed. She wants Ashley, still, because she desperately wants to go back to that past, to where things were simple, to where hunger was not an issue.

The problem is that, Scarlett views Ashley through a haze of sentimentality, and Ashley is, himself, the embodiment of rose tinted nostalgia. He is not like Scarlett, longing for that time, but functioning in reality. He cannot exist outside of it; he’s not wishing for a time when all he had to do was talk books and philosophy with Melanie, he is of that time and he can do nothing when its gone.

Ashley Wilkes is an embroidered cloth of the antebellum south. He's the neat picture that faces outward, the pleasent part that the one weilding the needle wanted people to see. What is hidden is the web of threads criss-crossing each other, the nests of string, the knots and the things those messy parts tell of. The pricked fingers, the broken threads, the bent needles, stitches that were undone, tangles. The work and the pain that went into making that pretty picture look effortless. In short, he's what Scarlett and others at the start of the book thought of their culture and society. The work of the slaves was just simply there, what mattered was the result. Scarlett, like the society at large, had to let that go, face what it was. Not a shining example to return to, but an impractical relic of the past.

Rhett on the other hand sort of drifts in and out of the awareness of the main characters, He is always sort of there. He sees the writing on the wall, knows that many of the social conventions are on their way out and nudges Scarlett in the direction she wants to go in anyway.

After Charles dies, and Scarlett is in mourning, tradition dictating that she wear black, Rhett buys her a green hat and tells her he will take it away if she has it dyed.

When Tara is about to be lost, and Rhett refuses to give her money, Scarlett, without shame and with ruthless practicality, steals and marries her sister Suellen's suitor.

Why? Because she knew that Suellen would not have used any of the money she might have come into to save Tara.

Scarlett then takes over her new husband's business. She has a talent for it, and does well. Rhett encourages this unconventional behavior by lending her money to buy a sawmill which she runs.

This loan is interesting because it has a condition. He loans her the money as long as it isn't used to help Ashley.

This could be seen as an opportunity that would only really work if not given over to the conventions of the past. This plays out some what when it turns out that Ashley really sucks at doing... Well anything useful, really.

When Rhett and Scarlett eventually marry, he is proud to have a smart wife.

Rhett, as change, sees that Scarlett can and should break free from the social expectations that hem her in, when she does, she tends to do well. They are prosperous. What gets her in trouble is her constent looking back, pineing for Ashley, for the past that never was what it seemed, and the lost future that never would have been what she thought. Case in point, Scarlett and Rhett have Bonnie, who Rhett adores, Scarlett seems contented in her marriage. Then what happens? Ashley tells Scarlett that he is jealous of Rhett. And Scarlett promptly demands that she and Rhett sleep in separate rooms.

Later, we continue to go all soap opera when Scarlett and Ashley share an embrace and Ashley's sister, India, spreads a rumour of an affair. Melanie kicks her out of her house, but Rhett has heard. Enticements of the past impeding the progress to the future.

Rhett is near his breaking point with Scarlett and her focus on Ashley. He forces himself on her. Change trying to force itself on the culture through a vile and violent act. That is not a way to move forward, however.

Scarlett becomes pregnant, argues with a fed up Rhett, and falls down the stairs, losing the baby. Scarlett doesn't want anything to do with Rhett after this happens, understandably.  A lot of change made in violence is resented and rejected. This leaves Rhett at a loss.

When Bonnie dies (it could be argued that she represents a new south, one that is not held back by convention, but is ultimately killed by the strong hold that those conventions had on the culture) Rhett is broken. And just when Scarlett is willing to embrace change, Rhett decides to leave, to find his own version of south that Ashley had been clinging to. This could be interpreted a couple of different ways. It could be seen as, that change  is brought about by time and acceptence, and that the lack of the latter means that the former will not be effective and pass you by. Or, and this is the interpretation that I prefer, the fact that time, in regards to culture, repeats. Every generation has experienced this. You spend your youth laughing at the way things were done “back in the day” maybe even proclaiming that when you’re older, you won’t talk about “Kids these days…” but then one day you find that everything that was familiar to you has become outdated and you don’t understand, and therefore don’t like what is happening now and you find yourself wishing for the time when you were so sure and you understood everything. Ashley represents a past after a major upheavel, Rhett, is simply the march of time that every now and again will turn around and walk backwards to see where he’s been. Now, one could argue that Rhett is going to end up like Ashley, afterall, he’s looking for his past again. But I feel that Rhett is retreating into the past because of the trauma he experience in losing Bonnie and giving up on Scarlett. It’s a respite, rather than a permanate state of mind, like it is with Ashley. Ashley’s mind was always in the more idealized place, no matter the circumstsnce. It was the war that rattled his viewpoint of the world. Rhett is grounded in reality, he just wants to go home. Ashley is a rerun of an old tv show, Rhett is a nostaligia inspired reboot.

And Melanie. Ahh, Melly, silk wrapped iron, she is.

If this book has one "good guy" it's Melanie. If Ashley is pulling Scarlett (Georgia) back and Rhett is marching her forward, Melanie is a sheltering force, and  Scarlett's counter point. Melanie has a streanth of her own and it is a perfect compainon to Scarlett's straightforward determination. While listening to this book, the phrase "speak softly and carry a big stick" kept coming to mind when it came to Melly. There are times that a soft spoken assurance, a politely worded insistence can be more powerful than anything else and Melanie shows that. The two prop each other up. When Scarlett kills the Yankee that invaded Tara, she helped bury the body. When Scarlett is demanding and short-tempered in regards to work being done around Tara during the lean times, Melly backs her up, but sweetens the tone. It takes a quiet fortitude to keep the peace in a way that still allows for getting things done and  Melanie enables Scarlett to do just that. She knows the ins and outs of society rules and can weave her way through them with more ease than Scarlett. As such, she recognizes when Scarlett has to bend or break those rules to ensure the family's survival and knows just the right way to phrase it to give her sister in law enough wiggle room to keep her on society's good graces.

She Dances with Rhett for the cause even while in mourning? Melly insists she's doing it out of memory of Charlie. She does more than sit and home and be a widow? Melly points out that Scarlett is young and should be allowed some leeway.

Ashley's sister spreads a roumor about Scarlett and Ashley while the former is married to Rhett? Melly banishes her from the house.

When Melanie dies, Scarlett realizes how much she has meant to her and I would argue that it is her sisterhood and partnership with Melanie that is central to the story, rather than Scarlett's relationship with Rhett.

Each of these main characters are either rejected or leave just as Scarlett's deeper motives and thoughts float to the surface where she pays attention to them.

Melly dies when Scarlett is finally ready to stand on her own, because the social rules are being phased out, she doesn't need Melanie's gentle protection any more. With the phasing out of those rules, Ashley  is outdated and unappealing and finally, Rhett and time move on, now that they have had their effect. And what is left standing is a changed Scarlett O'Hara in a changed world.

[yocalio]

I 100% stand by all you have to say about Dany/Jon/actors being dumb/Emilia being adorable and I love your blog as a whole, but on the Witcher front... I read 1 ½ books, and watched the Netflix series... And Yen is so different. In the show she's like a whiny teen who can't own up to her choices, and the books she's.. well, a bitch, but a likable one. I fell in love with her when she bamboozled geralt. I hear w3 isnt great for her either, but much better than the show. Do you differentiate them?

First off thank you for the support! I'm beginning to get a little controversial on here these days I guess lol.🤷‍♀️ I'm very glad you're enjoying the blog! 😁

This is a fun ask! Yes, I do differentiate them. The book is law and the rest are just adaptations to me and I try and judge them according to the medium in which they're told. I guess I never thought of show!Yennefer as whiney because I have that history with Yen. I always knew where she was coming from far before the show needed to explain it and I think they've done alright with her thus far. I bet this next season we'll get more of the calm, softer side to Yen. Season 1 was just a crash course introduction. Anya has quite frankly stolen the show for me and I wish her all the success in the world for landing such a coveted role. Yennefer is like the new Scarlett O'hara. She's a gift to play for any serious actress.

As for TW3, I think it's my favorite on screen adaptation of the character thus far. She may be stuck in her "Last Wish" persona a bit too much for my taste and they really skimped on the importance of her and Ciri's relationship, but overall it was pretty damn spot on and the way her and Geralt's dialogue is written is perfection. The voice acting for the character done by Denise Gough is alone some of the best work done in a video game to date. That's fact. If you think book Yen is a likable snarky bitch, then TW3 won't let you down. She's just so - 🥰❤😍

[funkymbtifiction]

What are your favorite enneagram pairings in fiction and why? I loved to hear all the mods opinions :) I remember there were posts about favorite mbti couples, I hope you can do one for enneagram too.

Gosh, all the possibilities! I have a ton of favourite pairings, some of which are canon and some of which are not. Some of them are romantic pairings, while others are not. So, don't @ me. In no particular order, here are some of my favourite pairings.

1. Rhett Butler (7) and Scarlett O'Hara (3) - These two Positive, Assertive types complement one another perfectly. His freedom loving nature and expansive generosity gets through to her cool, calculative, attention seeking personality.

2. Simba (3) and Nala (6): As cubs, their rapport is adorable since her seven wing lends itself easily to go along with Simba's sense of exploration and curiosity. As an adult, she is able to draw on his 3's growth connection to 6 helping him realize that he has to come home and fulfill his duty.

3. Marianne (4) and Colonel Brandon (1): Here is another example of a couple where one's type happens to be the growth point of the other. Brandon is able to balance out Marianne's dramatic nature, while providing stability along with the companionship she seeks. Colonel Brandon helps temper Marianne's fiery nature, eventually managing to protect her from her worst instincts.

4. Dylan Reinhardt (7) and Lizzie Needham (1): Fraught with tension over his typical 7 like skipping over the rules, these two types eventually come around to understanding and respecting one another. Dylan begins to appreciate how being meticulous and rule oriented Lizzie is, while Lizzie is able to benefit from Dylan's expansive, fun loving and unique insights at crime scenes.

5. Nymphadora Tonks (7) and Remus Lupin (6): Lupin is typically negative and looking at all the possible ramifications of bring with her, but ultimately she is able to bring him out of his head and let himself be happier, reconnect with his lost marauder self.

6. Jane Lane (4) and Daria Morgendorffer (4): These two outsiders are able to understand one another so well and be sensitive to each other's emotionality. Daria's five wing provides some grounding to the flamboyant Jane, while Jane's extroverted three wing brings Daria in touch with the more practical and social engagement side of teenage.

7. Detective Conan (7) and Shiho Miyano (5): Shiho is able to frequently reign in Conan's rather reckless behaviour at times but she amuses herself at his general buffonery and appreciates the way he is able to make connections all across the board. Conan on the other hand respects Shiho deeply for her intellect and unique perspectives. While they may not always see eye to eye, they are able to celebrate their differences and work together brilliantly.

- ENTP Mod.

[bookandslugclub]

literary first lines

Pride and Prejudice: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

Moby Dick: Call me Ishmael.

Anna Karenina: Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

1984: . It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.

A Tale of Two Cities: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.

Farenheit 451: It was a pleasure to burn.

The Time Machine: The time traveler (for so it will be convenient to speak of him) was expounding a recondite matter to us.

Catch-22: It was love at first sight.

The Bell Jar: It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn’t know what I was doing in New York.

David Copperfield: Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show.

Slaughterhouse-Five: All this happened, more or less.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the western spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small, unregarded yellow sun.

The Martian: I'm pretty much fucked.

The Great Gatsby: In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since.

The Catcher in the Rye: If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how

my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.

I Capture the Castle: I write this sitting in the kitchen sink.

Scaramouche: He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad.

Cat's Eye: Time is not a line but a dimension, like the dimensions of space.

Don Quixote: Somewhere in la Mancha, in a place whose name I do not care to remember, a gentleman lived not long ago, one of those who has a lance and ancient shield on a shelf and keeps a skinny nag and a greyhound for racing.

The Princess Bride: This is my favourite book in all the world, though I have never read it.

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone: Mr and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.

Peter Pan: All children, except one, grow up.

Howl's Moving Castle: In the land of Ingary where such things as seven-league boots and cloaks of invisibility really exist, it is quite a misfortune to be born the eldest of three.

The Hobbit: In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland: Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, `and what is the use of a book,' thought Alice `without pictures or conversation?'?.

The Color Purple: You better not never tell nobody but God.

One Hundred Years of Solitude: Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendia was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.

Scaramouche: He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad.

Notes from Underground: I am a sick man... I am a spiteful man.

Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea: The year 1866 was signalized by a remarkable incident, a mysterious and inexplicable phenomenon, which doubtless no one has yet forgotten.

Charlotte's Web: 'Where's Papa going with that ax?' said Fern to her mother as they were setting the table for breakfast.

Frankenstein: I am by birth a Genevese, and my family is one of the most distinguished of that republic.

Of Mice and Men: A few miles south of Soledad, the Salinas River drops in close to the hillside bank and runs deep and green.

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe: Once there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmond, and Lucy.

The Trial: Someone must have slandered Josef K., for one morning without having done anything truly wrong, he was arrested.

Gone with the Wind: Scarlett O'Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it was caught by her charm as the Tarleton twins were.

The Stranger: Mother died today.

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest: They're out there.

Neuromancer: The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.

2001 A Space Odyssey: The drought had lasted now for ten million years, and the reign of the terrible lizards had long since ended.

Jane Eyre: There was no possibility of taking a walk that day.

The Outsiders: When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I only had two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home.

A Clockwork Orange: That was me, that is Alex, and my three droogs, that is Pete, Georgie and Dum, Dum being really dim, and we sat in the Korova Milkbar making up our rassoodocks what to do with the evening, a flip dark chill winter bastard through dry.

To Kill a Mockingbird: When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow.

The Hunger Games: When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold.

Life of Pi: My suffering left me sad and gloomy.

Invisible Man: I am an invisible man.

Mrs Dalloway: Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself.

The Old Man and the Sea: He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish.

Cat's Eye: Time is not a line but a dimension, like the dimensions of space.

Midnight's Children: I was born in the city of Bombay...once upon a time.

Good Omens: It was a nice day.

The Handmaid's Tale: We slept in what had once been the gymnasium.

The Hunger Games: When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold.

Kindred: I lost an arm on my last trip home.

Never Let me Go: My name is Kathy H. I am thirty-one years old, and I've been a carer now for over eleven years.

Gravity's Rainbow: A screaming comes across the sky.

Lord of the Flies: The boy with fair hair lowered himself down the last few feet of rock and began to pick his way towards the lagoon.

Ulysses: Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed.

Rebecca: Last night I dreamt I want to Manderly again.

Murder on the Orient Express: It was five o'clock on a winter's morning in Syria.

In Cold Blood: The village of Holcomb stands on the high wheat plains of western Kansas, a lonesome area that other Kansans call 'out there.'

The Picture of Dorian Gray: The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.

The Knife of Never Letting Go: The first thing you find out when yer dog learns to talk is that dogs don't got nothing much to say.

IT: The terror, which would not end for another twenty-eight years - if it ever did end - began, so far as I know or can tell, with a boat made from a sheet of newspaper floating down a gutter swollen with rain.

[iatheia]

A shameless repost, from a long-deleted livejournal, originally by dybji. Based on 2005 Tsukigumi version of Elisabeth.

SCORE: *begins* LUCHENI: *stagger-sways onstage* VOICEOVER: Lucheni! Elisabeth! Hapsburgs! Murder! Anarchists! Trial! LUCHENI: No, no, no. It goes, "Trial! Delayed! Angry! Anarchist! Explanation! Death!" DEATH: *appears* AUDIENCE: *various jokes about how, indeed, he must be Death, for they have all been slain on sight* DEATH: I am here as a witness. Luigi Lucheni killed the Empress on my orders, because she loved me. VOICEOVER: I do not feel you are correct on this front, Mr. Tod. DEATH: Of course I am correct. She was too coy to say it, but I know deep down inside she wanted it. VOICEOVER: ... I think the multifaceted irony of that observation has stunned me into silence for the rest of the musical.

LUCHENI: When in doubt, rock'n'roll. Eliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiisabeth! ELISABETH: *appears* PAPASABETH: In spite of the fact that I am a landed gentleman with manors, a title, and pondsful of money, I find my obligations to take part in polite society and talk to my own relatives stifling. It is unspeakably unjust, my daughter. AUDIENCE: Tell that to your serfs. ELISABETH: When I grow up, I want to be just like you, Papa! AUDIENCE: This explains so much. SOPHIE: My cough of evil clearly establishes me as a heartless political machine. INTEREST GROUPS: May we please ply our power over the Emperor, shamelessly and nearly-irrevocably tearing power away from the throne? SOPHIE: Oh yes. Please do. FRANZ-JOSEPH: ... Mother, you do realize you are not actually a heartless political machine so much as a heartless idiot, right? DEATH: Christine, I lo-o-ove you … Er, I mean, Elisabeth. Elisabeth, I love you. ELISABETH: I feel strangely fond of you, as well. And, for the benefit of all the Freudians out there, I’ll express these thoughts by reprising the song I just sang for my father! FREUDIANS: Aww, fanservice. We feel so flattered. REST OF AUDIENCE: We feel a little horrified, actually. SOPHIE: We have set up an engagement date for you, son! MAMASABETH: We have set up an engagement date for you, daughter! Elisabeth, you can come along too. FRANZ-JOSEPH: Elisabeth, your artless beauty has completely stolen my heart! ELISABETH: And that diamond necklace has stolen mine. PAPASABETH: This will not end well. SOPHIE: No, it won't. PAPASABETH: Let's sit back and watch, shall we? SOPHIE: I'll get the popcorn. DEATH: Your final dance shall be with me! I am your destiny! ELISABETH: I admit the smoldering eyes do make a good case. SOPHIE: I am a bully. FRANZ-JOSEPH: I am spineless. ELISABETH: I am in despair! DAGGER: *appears* ELISABETH: O happy dagger! Here is thy sheath! FREUDIANS: (nodding excitedly) And thereby the dagger becomes a phallic impersonation of Death! ELISABETH: What? Phal ... oh my god! *flings dagger away* DEATH: Curses. ELMER: Hungary, independence, imperialist pigs. HUNGARIANS: History! Death to Elisabeth! ELISABETH: *reveals Hungarian flag dress* I am the Scarlett O'Hara of Austro-Hungarian history. HUNGARIANS: History! Long live Elisabeth! ELMER: Curses. ELMER: I plan a retaliation. It involves a gun! DEATH: Oh, no, Elmer. Guns represent manhood, and nobody in this story gets to have a manhood except me and Lucheni. And that’s only because he’s in my employ. ELMER: That’s logical. Here, take this. I don’t need a manhood anyway, my only love is Hungary. FREUDIANS: *wipe tears of affection* DEATH: I incite the people to revolt. LUCHENI: This will have no effect on Elisabeth's future life, nor on her eventual death. You really shouldn't look so smug. DEATH: Of course I should look smug! These scenes are the ones that make the historically-inclined middle schoolers drool! Who cares if it has no bearing on the rest of the musical? LUCHENI: Good point. SOPHIE: Your kids are mine! I must raise them instead of you, as is customary in royal court! ELISABETH: I. Hate. You. FRANZ-JOSEPH: Elisabeth ... I am spineless and heart-broken ... please open the door. DEATH: Elisabeth ... I am lonely and heart-broken ... come and make out with me. ELISABETH: Both of you, please shut up. DEATH: Revolt, peasants! PEASANTS: We never actually do revolt, but damn do we look good singing about it. FRANZ-JOSEPH: I defy my mother, and prove it by stealing her trademark cough. ELISABETH: Oh, baby, that's sweet. Let’s reconcile. DEATH: ... You owe me your life, woman. ELISABETH: Don't you realize my trademark power ballad depends upon my ignoring that fact? ACT TWO LUCHENI: History, history, history. Kitsch! DEATH: History, history, history. Pope hat! ELISABETH: Shameless power ballad about when I—er, “dance.” DEATH: Sexual tension about wanting to—uh, “dance.” FREUDIANS: *look bored* REST OF AUDIENCE: *nod appreciatively* SOPHIE: I must oust this young female with her influence over Franz-Joseph. PRIEST: Because it is lessening your power at court? SOPHIE: No, because it is tearing down the Hapsburg dynasty! SOLDIER: … And you weren’t? SOPHIE: (coldly) She is tearing down the Hapsburgs in a different way than I was. SOLDIER: We hire Madame Wolf and her posse of ladies of the evening. We must explain to Franz-Joseph that there are other fish in the sea! PRIEST: Or chickens on a plate, as it were. MADAME WOLF: Ha, I like that. I shall use that metaphor as the basis of my pimp song. FRANZ-JOSEPH: I am moved by the clever metaphors of your pimp song and the mermadian looks of Shirosaki Ai. LUCHENI: I can hardly blame you, sir. Say cheese! ELISABETH: I do not have anorexia! ELISABETH: *collapses* Fine, I do have anorexia, but it’s totally under control! DR. ZABLE: This is in an effort to keep the Emperor interested, isn’t it? You should probably know, he’s cheating on you. ELISABETH: He is most certainly not! PHOTOGRAPH: *appears* ELISABETH: Curses. ELISABETH: … I … I don’t know what to do. DR. ZABLE, shockingly revealing himself to be DEATH: Shineba ii! ELISABETH: No. DEATH: I don’t understand how you consistently fail to follow the impeccably logical solutions I am always presenting to you. DEATH: *taunts Elisabeth with dagger* ELISABETH: *reaches out hopelessly, yearning for dagger* DEATH: *fondles dagger himself* FREUDIANS: *inhale* REST OF AUDIENCE: Say one word and we will cut you. Ayana Oto as YOUNG RUDOLF: Angst! DEATH: Inappropriate touching! AUDIENCE: And so was the infamous red dress foretold. RUDOLF: Visions of greatness, including the overthrow of his father while rushing to Elisabeth’s embrace— FREUDIANS: *inhale* REST OF AUDIENCE: Yeah, no, we got that one. Don’t bother. WINDISCH: I’m in a madhouse, I wear white, I have delusions of being someone I’m not! ELISABETH: Oh, young lady, I would change places with you. THE GHOST OF WILKIE COLLINS’ WOMAN IN WHITE: … You could, you know. ELISABETH: My life has nothing, nothing! LUCHENI: Except paparazzic opportunities for me. ELISABETH: Curses. RUDOLF: Contemplates suicide. DEATH: Contributes ideas for this contemplation. RUDOLF: Revolts! REVOLT: Fails! ELISABETH: Returns! RUDOLF: We’re so alike, Mama. You shun all responsibilities and want to belong only to yourself, I am lonely and want to stop belonging only to myself. Also I try to fix this country’s problems in an effort ostensibly to help the country, rather than to prove to Death I don’t need him. We are perfect mirror images! ELISABETH: … Rudolf, my boy, I think you’re a couple NTs short of a synapse on that one. RUDOLF: What? My logic is impeccable! DEATH: Hey, honey, why don’t you ditch the old lady and come with me? RUDOLF: No, that sounds like a really bad ide—wow, you’ve got smolderingly gorgeous eyes, sir. DEATH: And lustrous hair. And pouty lips. And a mighty gun— RUDOLF: Well, that’s that! I can’t possibly be expected to resist you with your pouty lips and mighty gun! ELISABETH: … Rudolf? Rudolf? CRICKETS: Chirp. ELISABETH: … You made out with my son? You crazy freak, why would you— DEATH: (eagerly) Are you jealous? You’re jealous, aren’t you! Come on, admit it, I’ll still take you, you and Rudolf can be in my harem— ELISABETH: I can be with Rudolf if I die? Oh, do take me now! DEATH: … You are one incestuously-inclined family, you know that? FRANZ-JOSEPH: I reappear. Oh, Elisabeth— ELISABETH: No, stay away, please. I’ve had just about enough of having people sing that name out to me. FRANZ-JOSEPH: I can change, baby, I promise— ELISABETH: We are as two ships in the night GOOD DAY, SIR. FRANZ-JOSEPH: *dies* DEATH: Lucheni, I am entrusting you with my mighty dagger. You know what this means. LUCHENI: … Actually, I think I’m completely overloading on the innuendos at this point. FREUDIANS: *have been gagged by rest of audience* LUCHENI: Come on, this one’s really ambiguous. Couldn’t you just let them explain— REST OF AUDIENCE: No. DEATH: Don’t worry, Lucheni, it doesn’t mean you’ll have to do anything questionable with imperialist pig-dogs. You just need to kill Elisabeth. FRANZ-JOSEPH: She doesn’t love you, you great poof! DEATH: That’s it, you’re getting buried in anthropomorphized sheet-people now. Furthermore, I am Death, obviously I’m bisexual. And heterosexually lesbian at the same time. ... It’s pretty complicated, actually. DEATH: (afterthought) And also, she totally loves me. Imperialist pig-dog. LUCHENI: *Fails to stab Elisabeth.* DEATH: *appears* ELISABETH: O happy dagger! Here is thy sheath! No, for real this time. LUCHENI: Grande amore! DEATH: Crossing the deep waters of Styx together, la la la. ELISABETH: No more tears and suffering, la la la. TRIAL FOR LUCHENI: *apparently, remains in limbo* LUCHENI: Curses.

[gh0stlyfixation]

Southern belle

Requested: Can you write a reader and Elijah imagine where they first meet at an elegant party in a pre-civil war era, and the reader is a southern belle like Scarlett O'Hara? They stare at each other from across the room in the beginning, dance together for a while, sneak off to a balcony and realize how smitten they are with each other?

Your parents sent you off to this elegant party in hopes of you finding a decent man. A man with money. Alongside was your sister and her husband.

"Why do mom and pa do this? I mean goodness, I don't need a man." You said annoyed.

"Yes but, the richer the man the happier pa is. Come on now." Said your sister with a nudge.

All your pettiness went away when a young man maybe in his twenties with brown hair and a nice suit walked in. You couldn't help but stare at him and in return, he looked back.

"Looks like you found yourself a man." Your sister nudges again

"A very handsome one at that," you said with a grin.

The man started to walk over and your sister started to walk away leaving you alone with him. "I couldn't help but notice you stare." He said to you.

"I'm Y/N, please to let you." You said courteously

“I’m Elijah, a pleasure." He Stated.

“I say, I’ve never seen you around here? Where are you from?” You asked

“New Orleans. Moved here for family reasons.” He explained by gesturing with his hands.

“Ah, the party city. I’ve always wanted to travel there.”

“Perhaps one day. Care for a dance?” Elijah asked.

You agreed and the two of you danced for hours completely lost with his voice and his elegance. He who was lost in your beautiful eyes.

“Come with me.” You said. You grabbed his hand and lead him up the stairs to a room full of books. “This is the library, a place I spent most my childhood with my friend, Y/F/N.” You said as you lead him to throw another door to the balcony.

“This is my favorite spot.” You said as you let go of his hand. You didn’t want to, but you did. You were amazed by him.

“You’ve traveled the world?” You asked as you sat down in one of the chairs.

“I have. I’ve been to France and England the most. I grew up there.” He Stated.

“How amazing. I’ve always wanted to go to France but father is always too busy. He’s been trying to marry me off to a man that is wealthy. My sister thought that if I met a man just maybe my father will accept him.” You Stated.

“You are a beautiful girl. I’m sure any man would want you. I know I would.” He said as he grabbed your hand and kissed it. You looked into his brown eyes, you knew it was him. He was the one. He smiled.

[nitrateglow]

"Give Me a Character": Scarlett O'Hara, Rhett Butler, and Letty Mason

Scarlett O’Hara (Gone with the Wind)

How I feel about this character

Myfeelings on Gone with the Wind itselfare incredibly complicated (memorable characters, but then there’s the wholelet’s defend slavery and be racist as hell thing; a great first half, and thena very soap-oper-y second half), but if there is one thing I adore withoutshame, it is the character of Scarlett O’Hara. Book or movie, I LOVE HER. Youcould almost classify her as a villain-protagonist: she’s selfish,manipulative, steals her sister’s fiancée, uses prison labor, is incrediblymean. Yet she’s also brave and willing to get down and dirty to save her familyand her home. We see her warts and all, and I admire that so much. She reallydoes feel like an actual person; you can take her or leave her, but she’s trueto herself, no matter how virtuous or vile. She’s also admirable in how shechallenges society’s ideas of how a woman should behave, eschewing widow’sweeds (and therefore refusing to define herself by the husband she lost forseveral years) and forming her own businesses. Not saying the book is a bigprogressive work (see: defending slavery as an institution), but I cannot helpbut love Scarlett. She is a badass.

VivienLeigh’s turn as the character is also just perfect; I cannot imagine anyoneelse in this role. Who knew an Englishwoman would be able to so convincinglyinhabit this most southern of Southern Belles? Okay yeah, so in the book we’retold from the first line that “Scarlett O’Hara was not beautiful” and VivienLeigh is like an actual goddess, but I don’t care! Like Malcolm McDowell withAlex DeLarge, Leigh was born to play Scarlett and every time I see that movie,she mesmerizes me.

All the people I ship romanticallywith this character

Nosurprises here: Rhett Butler. Those two are tempestuous and insane, but youknow they could only ever be with one another. Though honestly, the idea ofScarlett and Melanie together would be adorable as hell too because of thewhole opposites attract thing (a more-mature, well-adjusted Scarlett withMelanie would make for one hell of a power couple), though I also just lovethem as having a sisterly bond. Which brings me to my next question—

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Scarlettand Melanie. Though she hates her at first, Scarlett does grow to love Melanieeven though she doesn’t realize this until it’s too late. Their sisterly bondis fascinating and I think Melanie’s death is what crushes me most in thestory, because I feel even if Scarlett could never get Rhett back, she couldhave had a great relationship with Melanie for the rest of their lives. Theircut-off friendship just—oh man, it’s depressing me just thinking about it now!

My unpopular opinion about thischaracter

Idon’t really have any.

One thing I wish would happen / hadhappened with this character in canon.

Iknow it would defeat the drama of this part of the story, but I so wish she hadgotten to say goodbye to her mother before the woman passed away! One thingthey don’t really explore in the movie as opposed to the source material isScarlett’s relationship with her mother, Ellen O’Hara. Ellen is the epitome ofmature southern womanhood and Scarlett really wants to be like her: pious,classy, strong, kind. However, these two women could not be more dissimilar. Ellengave up a passionate love when she was young in order to marry Mr. O’Hara,since her family approved of him. Scarlett is less likely to give up her desiresfor social propriety and often flouts conventions. Still, she wishes she werelike her mother and is haunted by her mother’s memory throughout the story.

 Rhett Butler (Gone with the Wind)

How I feel about this character

He’sRhett Butler. He’s iconic. And he’s actually quite fascinating as a character. Inpopular culture, he’s seen as the ultimate bad boy dreamboat, but he possessesqualities that undermine this classification. He can be quite cowardly, notwhen it comes to physical danger, but when it comes to being emotionally openwith the woman he loves, who happens to be the often-cold-blooded Scarlett O’Hara.Rhett likes to act like he’s too cool for life and that he’s a cynical bastard,but deep down, he is a sentimentalist scared of being hurt. This contrastbetween self-presentation and who he really is deep down makes Rhett a dynamiccreation. And while some people these days claim Clark Gable was miscast in themovie, I could not disagree more. His onscreen persona was tailor-made for thecharacter and I think he shows his acting chops to great effect in thosemoments where he has to be vulnerable.

All the people I ship romanticallywith this character

Scarlett,of course and for the reasons I listed above. However, I have always found theidea of him having a thing for Melanie intriguing as well. I’m sure she wouldseem like a much better option than Scarlett at times, given how nasty Rhettand Scarlett’s marriage became toward the end. A few years back, I read a fantheory that Melanie might have used some, eh, romantic means of getting Rhettto stop barricading himself with his daughter’s corpse from grief. I’m not sureif I buy that entirely though.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Okayso this is the same trajectory as Scarlett, but Melanie. They worked welltogether as friends. She could see past his rough exterior and he admired howgood she was in a way Scarlett couldn’t.

My unpopular opinion about thischaracter

Idon’t really find this character that attractive, movie or book. Like I get whyother people do and would take him over Ashley any day of the week. But hedoesn’t really do it for me.

One thing I wish would happen / hadhappened with this character in canon.

Iwish he and Scarlett had been able to work things out and mature. Like, itkills me how her miscarriage only drives them apart when it should have madeboth of them rethink their approaches to that marriage. While the passion anddrama of their relationship keeps it compelling, I feel if they had bothallowed themselves to be vulnerable with each other FOR ONE MINUTE, so muchcould have changed! But then again, we’d be robbed of that iconic ending,wouldn’t we?

 Letty Mason (The Wind)

How I feel about this character

Forme, this is Lillian Gish’s defining role, the culmination of the silk hidingsteel characters she had often played up to that point in her great career. Gish’susual type was physically frail but filled to the brim with quiet, enduringstrength. Letty is the epitome of this character. She begins the movie as afrail, coquettish young thing terrorized by the harshness of the west and endsit as a steel-willed woman who will gun you down if you try to mess with her.She is an incredibly fleshed out character for this kind of melodramatic story.For one thing, she is not always a nice person. She can be selfish and manipulative,not to mention a bit cruel at times. However, she gradually grows and sees howshe’s messed up in some of her interactions with others, even as her new desertexistence nearly drives her to madness. I could so see her growing up to becomea badass like Rachel Cooper, the gun-toting, maternal old lady Gish played in The Night of the Hunter.

Gish’semoting in this film is pretty extreme, but that fits the story and thecharacter. Letty is what we might call “extra” in her approach to things andthis contrasts well with the more down-to-earth people of the desert like Coraand Lige, whose actors are more naturalistic. Also, Letty is kinda, sortatrying not to lose her mind throughout the story, so I think Gish’s operaticstyle is the best approach. It is a brilliant performance, one that could only work in the heightened reality of silent film. It makes me wish Gish and Sjostrom could have collaborated for additional movies afterward, because she did her best work with him on this project.

All the people I ship romanticallywith this character

WhileI don’t ship them enthusiastically, Letty and Lige are cute together. I wouldlove to know how they lived together as a married couple after the events ofthe movie.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Idon’t have one because this character is so isolated for much of the story.

My unpopular opinion about thischaracter

Idon’t entirely get mad at how Cora treats Letty. Don’t get me wrong—what shedoes is not right and not even close to the best way to handle that situation. WhileCora is mean-spirited about Letty, I do understand why she gets frustrated withher. Letty is very reluctant to pull her own weight around the house. She doesn’teven ask how she can help or what she can do, which is common courtesy if you’regoing to be staying with someone for an extended period of time, at least in myexperience.

Plus,Cora does get one moment of humanity that keeps her from being evil, as I’veseen her described: she sees her children playing with Letty while cutting up apiece of bloody meat, is jealous that she inspires such affection in them. She goesto hug one of her kids, but the child recoils from the blood on her hands. Thissimple image, with no dialogue, says so much about the depth of Cora’s jealousyand pain. She can never be the “fun parent,” but that’s because she does thedirty work that needs to get done so they can eat! So, I don’t like the simple classificationthat Letty is always the victim or that Cora was unjustified in her feelingsabout her.

One thing I wish would happen / hadhappened with this character in canon.

It’sactually super ambiguous in the movie itself, but I like the idea that sheactually did gun down Roddy. He was such a slimy creep. I choose to accept thisinterpretation!

[sweetcrushquotes]

Sweet Crush Quotes With That You Can Impress Your Crush

Sweet Crush Quotes With That You Can Impress Your Crush

There’s a collection of Sweet Crush Quotes that you can help you to impress you crush. Hope you like it.

Best Sweet Crush Quotes

Also read: 90+ Sweet Crush Quotes that Turn Your Crush Into Love

You don’t have to be a genius to figure what’s between us.

I’m afraid to lose you and you’re not even mine. Drake

When I see your face, my heart begins to dance in my chest and butterflies magically appear in my belly telling me that I like you very much.

Isn’t it funny how you can still get butterflies in your stomach, even though you have known the person for years?

Some things have to remain a secret, but you and I don’t.

I’ll be yours forever, just tell me when to start.

I want a new life, and I want it with you.

I want to ask you out, but I can’t find the right words. And my confidence level is low.

Why do they call it a crush? Because that’s how you feel when they don’t feel the same way in return.

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs. William Shakespeare

Sweet Crush Quotes and Sayings

Loving you is like breathing How can I stop?

I’ll never get over the stupid feeling I get every time you sign on. The one where I think maybe, just maybe…you’ll talk to me first.

“Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom. Marcel Proust

“The one good thing about not seeing you is that I can write you letters. Svetlana Alliluyeva

“When I find myself thinking of you, it is all the good memories that we had that bring a smile to my face. Catherine Pulsifer

“She gave me a smile I could feel in my hip pocket. Raymond Chandler

“I like her because she smiles at me and means it. Terri Guillemets

“Because of your smile, you make life more beautiful. Thich Nhat Hanh

Isn't it funny how just one little phone call or text can make your bad day suddenly wonderful ! Nishan Panwar

“Sometimes I just can't ignore the way I feel when I see you smile. unknown

Sweet Crush Quote with Images

“I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year. Edna St. Vincent Millay

“It's nice to have a crush on someone. It feels like you're alive, you know? Scarlett Johansson

“Your eyes make me shy. Anais Nin

“I don't remember having a crush on a boy when I was a girl. I don't even remember my first kiss. Maureen O'Hara

“Infatuation is like a drug that gives you the best high yet gives you the worst headache after. Luke Blaise Pereira

Teenage crush is like flu. If you find a remedy for it, it lasts for a couple of days. If you don't, it still lasts for a couple of days. Raheel Farooq

“Some crushes just never went away. They built, instead, into something permanent, obsessive and all consuming. Maya Banks

“Just thinking about you brings a smile to face, a twinkle to my eye, and a skipped beat to my heart. Ash Sweeney

If someone will give me a dollar every time I think about you, I may be a millionaire now. Because I think about you every minute, every day.

If I were to become an animal, I would be a cat. Because I want to love you until the day I die… and the 8 more lives after that.

Sweet Crush Quotes with Pictures

I haven’t had this feeling before, It’s like I no longer have control of my feelings and more, When you are in the room, my heart drops on the floor, When I am with you, I never felt any bore.

The difference between crush and love is that crush enumerates reasons while love cannot utter any reasons at all.

When your tongue dries up and your head throbs and you cannot even string a comprehendible sentence, my friend, let me tell you that you have fallen in the pits of infatuation.

My confidence is all always sky high, unless I have to ask you for your number, all of that confidence goes down the drain.

Blind love is always called infatuation.

I am captivated by your eyes, by the way you move and the way you speak. I am captured.

It is the feeling of butterflies flying through your stomach or heat rising up to your cheeks – having a crush makes you feel more alive, isn’t?

When you develop a crush on someone, you don’t always see them for who they really are but only the shiny and best parts.

My insides still do somersaults whenever he catches my eyes.

That moment when you created a code name for your crush so you and your friends can freely talk about him anytime, anywhere.

Sweet Crush Quotes for Him or Her

I whisper ‘I love you’, ‘I like you’, ‘I miss you’, when your back is turned and you are not listening.

The only beauty of having a crush is having zero commitments, freedom from responsibilities, and no attachments to worry about. Just look from afar and smile like an idiot.

When I see you online on Facebook, it distracts me from doing anything else because I am wrestling between sending you a message and risk looking like a fool or forever regret having no courage to do it at all.

I fervently wish every night for you and I to end up together…it’s the same as wishing for the moon to shine on a bright and clear morning sky.

I will forever be torn between talking to you or forever hold my piece…unless, of course, you talk to me first.

I am already very much grateful for the happiness you brought into my life whenever you smile at me.

I sometimes dream about you and me, in a fairy tale. You are my prince charming, my knight in shining armor, and I am your princess and your soon-to-be-queen. And we will live happily ever after.

Last night, I lost my tooth accidentally and my mom told me that tooth fairies grant wishes in exchange of a tooth. I wished that you would feel the same way as I do with you.

I think of you so much that I see you almost everywhere I go.

The way I feel when you smile at me is one mystery I dare not unravel.

Secret Crush Quotes

I turn clumsy and do stupid things around the person I fancy. With that said, I am apologizing in advance for looking foolish in front of you.

In that moment, in that very few minutes, you are mine and I am yours. I am more than happy and I will not dare ask for more.

Infatuation is drinking and having too much and waking up the next day with a bad hangover.

Your ‘no’ is my greatest fear against my thousands of questions.

I always look around, just in case you’re there.

The first thing I do upon entering the room is to scan around hoping you are there too.

I’m knocked senseless by just a mere touch from you. Can you imagine what will happen to me if you kiss me?

The day when you will tell me that you are thinking of me too is one of my greatest wishes coming true.

[analysis-by-vaylon]

Double Take #3: “The Banagic Incident.”

Today I'll be continuing the Double Take series with a look at "The Banagic Incident." The goal of this series, as you may recall, is to closely examine the earlier episodes of Star vs. the Forces of Evil -- usually lesser-liked and seemingly-unimportant ones -- in order to delineate the often complex ideas in them, connecting those ideas to those in later episodes, which are obviously grander in scope.

In other words, my argument is that certain early episodes are a blueprint or "primer" consisting of subtle ideas whose introduction serves to prepare the audience for the return of those ideas in a more fully-realized form.

Why This Episode?

Where do I even begin with "The Banagic Incident"? I'll be honest: even now, I can't say that I really like this episode. In fact, when I first saw it, I was shocked by just how off the whole episode feels. Star doesn't seem like Star. Marco doesn't seem like Marco. Nothing feels right. I simply don't know what kind of overall effect this episode is trying to accomplish.

On the other hand, strange though it may seem, there are some ideas in this episode that are clearly linked to ones in later episodes. Therefore, I'll be talking about Star's quest for the Banagic Wand, Marco's firewalk, and what these might mean in context of season two.

Medieval Romance and the Grail Quest

At the beginning of the episode, Star's declaration borrows a number of common phrases in order to give her quest for the Banagic Wand an air of importance. Some of these phrases are direct references to other works, such as this intriguing reference to Gone with the Wind:

Star: As me as my witness, I'll never go bored again!

Scarlett O'Hara: If I have to lie, steal, cheat, or kill, as God as my witness, I'll never be hungry again!

Gone with the Wind is considered "an epic historical romance" -- and romance, I think, is the key word in understanding "The Banagic Wand." I have written before about romance in Star vs. the Forces of Evil, but today it's medieval romance in particular that we're interested in and which can be defined as a story that

involves a single knight seeking to win a scornful lady's favor by undertaking a dangerous quest. Along the way, this knight encounters mysterious hermits, confronts evil blackguards and brigands, slays monsters and dragons, competes anonymously in tournaments, and suffers from wounds, starvation, deprivation, and exposure in the wilderness. ... Medieval romances often focus on the supernatural.

It's no coincidence, then, that we hear the metallic scraping of a sword being drawn when Star removes her wand from her purse; this scene is intentionally invoking medieval romance and the concepts associated with it.

If you've read my post on the Holy Grail, you can probably predict where I'm going with this.

That's right: the idea of Star as a knight-errant on a quest returns in the latter half of season two -- and in a far more serious context. No longer is Star merely a bored girl on a quest to buy some piece of junk from late-night TV -- she's a young woman on a quest to retrieve something that was stolen from her.

Season two won't be the last time we see the motif of Star as a knight. I predict that the third season will feature even stronger and more complex depictions of Star as a knight-errant. (Indeed, this may be related to an idea I've been developing that the series is gradually shifting from Sailor Moon to Revolutionary Girl Utena ... but that's a post for another day.)

"The Banagic Incident," as far as I can tell, is the first explicit reference in the series to medieval romance. In typical Star vs. the Forces of Evil fashion, it introduces a crucial idea in a frivolous way. And that, I think, goes back to the idea of "underestimating."

Star the Underestimated

First, let's discuss the end of "The Banagic Incident." It's odd, to say the least:

Star: I guess you could say I've totally mastered Earth. Marco: Sorry. I underestimated you. Star: You underestimated me? Marco: Uh ... yeah. I did. Sorry. This stuff looks delicious, though. [Star knocks the bowl out of Marco's hands.] Marco: Why did you -- Star: There was a fly on it.

Star obviously takes the idea of being underestimated to heart, since we later see her refer to herself as Star the Underestimated in "Into the Wand":

I believe that the idea of "underestimated" applies not only to Star but to the series itself. By now, it should be clear that the series is intentionally downplaying its biggest concepts. For example, it introduces the idea of Arthurian legends by having Star pursue some piece of made-for-TV junk she read about in a teen magazine. Or it introduces the idea that not all monsters are evil with an episode as silly as “Lobster Claws.”

In other words, Star vs. the Forces of Evil hides its complex thoughts behind a facade of frivolity -- and it works. It has most everyone fooled. Why does the series do this, though? The weird, unsettling end of "The Banagic Incident" gives us a few clues.

Star is clearly unhappy and upset with Marco underestimating her. As we know from watching the series, Star is the problem child who thinks of herself as a screw-up, so much so that she even uses her own name as a synonym for screwing up in "Pixtopia" -- which, quite frankly, is heartbreaking. For Marco to think that way as well must be particularly painful.

Star's reaction -- knocking the bowl from Marco's hand -- is therefore a sign of her immaturity at this point in the series. Star lashes out when people underestimate her. Yet compare this to her view of herself in "Into the Wand": instead of lashing out, she uses the idea that she's underestimated to her advantage, transforming it into motivation to succeed.

Analogously, Star vs. the Forces of Evil is gradually revealing the true complexity and depth of its ideas as the characters and the show’s audience grow more mature. Put succinctly, the form mirrors the content. I can't help but admire the writers for taking such a risk, since having the show hide its depth has indeed led to criticisms that the show is generic, frivolous, or badly-written.

You have to pay close attention and do a little work to discover the ideas hidden within Star vs. the Forces of Evil, and few people are willing to put in that effort. Hence, the series is underestimated.

Speaking of underestimated, there's another character who, in season two, delivers Marco's exact line from "The Banagic Incident": Hekapoo.

Marco's Trial by Fire

In "Running with Scissors," Marco meets Hekapoo and tries to earn a pair of dimensional scissors from her.

Hekapoo: Not bad for a human. You truly earned these. I underestimated you.

Considering what she puts Marco through, it's no coincidence that Hekapoo echoes these exact words from "The Banagic Incident." Neither is it any coincidence that Marco attempts to firewalk in "The Banagic Incident" and Hekapoo, being made of fire, burns a bald spot into Marco's hair.

"The Banagic Incident" introduces the idea of a literal trial by fire for Marco, an idea which is later repeated in a more sophisticated way in "Running with Scissors." In both cases, Marco somehow grows or changes during the single-minded pursuit of some goal, whether that goal is thrashing Jeremy or earning a pair of dimensional scissors.

And given how much I've written about the Holy Grail in Star vs. the Forces of Evil, it's difficult for me not to read too much into this image:

... But it's still amusing nonetheless. On the other hand, Marco's prize at the end of "Running with Scissors" is entirely different and laden with all kinds of symbolism:

As evidence of his maturity, Marco doesn't negatively react to Hekapoo saying that she underestimated him -- and, of course, it's amusing, given what we know about her feelings toward being underestimated, that Star shows up as soon as the line is delivered:

In fact, it's the idea of being underestimated that provides an additional connection between the two of them: Marco is underestimated because he's just an ordinary human, and Star is underestimated because she's so undisciplined. Thus, "Running with Scissors" intentionally hearkens back to "The Banagic Incident," changing the ending from one of conflict and separation to one of agreement and harmony -- though keeping the somber tone.

Completing the Quest

"The Banagic Incident" has an unusual title. I'm not entirely sure about this, but my best guess is that it refers to the Noodle Incident trope in that "The Banagic Incident"

is something from the past that is sometimes referred to but never explained, with the implication that it's just too ludicrous for words

As a lesser-liked episode, “The Banagic Incident” might be reduced to a kind of noodle incident for the series -- something few talk about. And certainly, I think the writers have no intention of explaining the ideas presented in "The Banagic Incident" -- the ideas of medieval romance and trial by fire -- but they certainly do refer to those ideas later in season two.

We haven't seen the last of these ideas; they'll be back in season three. Count on it.

I hope you enjoyed reading this analysis, and I hope that Double Take is continuing to highlight for you some interesting ideas hidden in Star vs. the Forces of Evil. Feel free to send me an ask if you'd like me to write about an episode in particular -- or even if you're just curious about any other subject you might like to see me write about.

[weightloss18letsdoit-blog]

Rock Gym Playlist

Too close to touch - Before I cave in

Asking Alexandria- Alone in a room

CrazyEightyEight - Shinebox

Wither Away - Pandora's box

Underoath - on my teeth

Slaves - Let this haunt you

Blessthefall - Melodramatic

New years day - Disgust me

Divided Minds - Don't get too close

Picturesque - Dead flowers

Savage Hands - Red

Dream State - White lies

Normandie - Pay for this

Hands like houses - Drift

Like moths to flames - Nowhere left to sink

Picturesque - Honestly

Of mice & men - Defy

Story of the year - How can we go on

Escape the fate - Do you love me?

A scent like wolves - Inside out

Ghost Atlas - Legs

Chapter and verse - Magazines

Like ghosts - Iris

The plot in you - Paid in full

Cardinals pride - Still alright

We set signals - Holding on to nothing

Parting gift - Rensing

Softspoken - Begin again

Too close to touch - Leave you lonely

Blessthefall - Wishful sinking

Slaves - I'd rather see your star explode

Picturesque- Fake fiction

Fear and wonder, Trevor Wenterworth - The only way

The wonder years - Sister cities

Asking Alexandria - Where did it go?

Slaves - True colors

Bad wolves - Zombie

Of mice & men - Instincts

Of virtue - Surrounded

Parkway drive - The void

Northern ghosts - Deathwish

Stick to your guns - Married to the noise

For all eternity - Derailed

Scarlett O'Hara - Locked from within

Nine shrines - King of mercy

Asking Alexandria - Into the fire

A scent like wolves - Angelwrath

Dream on dreamer - Let it in

Light up the sky - Hard to love