#slovenly peter

[aholefilledwithtwigs]

I posted about this on the wonka post, but Struwwelpeter (particularly this version) is worth its own post.

Also because i felt weird adding my fav illustrations from this book on someone else’s post. Slovenly Peter is an 1845 german children’s book whose basic premise was ‘tell stories of children disobeying or causing trouble and then meeting a horrible consequence’. Scared Straight for things like playing with matches, being greedy, breaking your toys, sucking your thumb where the punishment ranges from dismemberment to death.

These are from a 1915 edition in english. It was translated into different languages around the world and has been hugely influential on children’s literature for the last 150 years.

One of the most cited examples of modern retellings of Struwwelpeter is Charlie and the Chocolate Factory— the kids who misbehave die. The lesson is harsh and absurd because the world is harsh and absurd. It’s a morality tale. The stakes are high so the message sticks. Another is the Gashlycrumb Tinies by Edward Gorey (please please read it)

Part of why I like this specific edition is that it has reproductions of multiple different versions the story, along with details of its history and influence

And new illustrations. Like for Dreadful Pauline above?

Yeah that’s a bit much to add to a stranger’s post.

Know what’s even more? Original:

Sarita Vendetta’s illustrations:

And another interpretation of the scissor man

So umm hey kids don’t suck your thumbs?

[slovenlyrecordings]

BERLIN TONIGHT!

8 June 21.00 - LATE

DJs Peter Slovenly & Mr. Cigarette Butt

at Eschschloraque Rümschrümp

Rosenthaler Straße 39

[siswritesyanderes]

i mightve asked this before, in which case go ahead and ignore this lmao. which characters would be the best vs worst when handling an autistic darling?

Oooh, this is a cool question! I would say it depends on the particular symptoms the person has, so I'll go over some symptoms and which yanderes would respond best vs. worst.

avoidance of eye-contact

Obviously, shy, autistic, or autistic-coded yanderes would work really well with this (and other) symptom(s). Your Donatello's, your Newt's, arguably your Peter Parker's. Also, yanderes who are able to sense when their darling's attention is on them supernaturally or just out of sheer social aplomb. Elves, for example, would be great with someone who doesn't like eye contact, because their body language conventions differ as a result of being able to communicate mentally.

Roxanne Wolf would be distinctly bad for this, based on her need for attention as demonstrated in Help Wanted 2. But she's also not beyond reason when it matters, as we've seen in Ruin DLC, so I'm sure communicating about it is on the table.

sensory reactivity

Okay, I think Dr. Strange would very specifically be bad for this, because his movies are all swirling kaleidoscopes of magic that would definitely be sensory overload in real life, and I have mentioned before that I don't see him as a considerate yandere. If anything, he might enjoy inducing sensory overload for the express purposes of making his darling require comfort, care, and isolation from others.

On the other hand, and maybe a weird pull for this, but Zafrina from Twilight would be great. Alec, too. Both have powers that would be super helpful when darling is overwhelmed.

Druig is able to just make everyone nearby shut up, which he would employ liberally.

food sensitivity/pickiness

Yanderes who enjoy cooking could go both ways on this. I could see some being offended by negative feedback and some taking it as being gifted with the challenge of meeting their darling's standards. Teruteru from Danganronpa and Esme from Twilight would both probably be good about receiving feedback and making changes. Super eager to please. Esme more so than Teruteru; he might get offended at first.

Rich and royal yanderes would delight in someone picky. They would love to be able to send food back with new, highly specific orders because darling doesn't like grapes with soft spots. Your Tony Stark's, your Byakuya Togami's, your Toph Beifong's, your Coriolanus Snow's.

Ralph from DBH would be a problem. He has a very weak grasp on what humans eat and a very high sensitivity to negative feedback. (Wait, he's just like me...)

resistance to changes in routine

This one would be a problem for yanderes who feel a need to go on adventures and trips with their darling. Which isn't necessarily the same as adventurous yanderes. Some adventurous yanderes might enjoy the idea of their darling staying behind at home keeping to a comfortable routine. But the ones who want their darling along on the adventure would be problematic. The Doctor, for example. Especially Eleven; he gets bored easily.

Whereas I think a lot of superheroes would like the idea of keeping their darling sequestered away, living predictably and comfortably. Clark Kent, Steve Rogers, Druig...The only catch is that some of them (Druig) would probably be a bit condescending about it.

I think Daycare Attendant would be great for routine. Coloring time, snack time, naptime, same time every day, sign them up! Also condescending, but they genuinely can't help it because it's how they're programmed.

Technically, Phineas and Ferb keep to a very specific routine, albeit a pretty tiring/potentially overwhelming one.

sorting things

This would be great for the disorganized genius character type. A Bruce Banner, if you will. An organized genius probably already has a system and might have trouble with someone sorting things differently than they have them. A distinctly slovenly character probably wouldn't mind either way.

hyperfixation

Yo, Queen from Deltarune would be the best for this. She would create an inescapable palace of the thing darling likes. Swatch and the Swatchlings would be involved.

stimming

There might be a problem if the yandere is easily distracted and needs to focus on something else. The main one I can think of who fits that description is Percy Jackson. That's not a distaste thing; just a pragmatic issue. Yanderes who experience sensory overload might also have an issue with it. My first thought was Queen Elsa.

On the other hand, Leo Valdez would love to make little stim toys for his darling. Donatello, too.

[columboscreens]

columbo is so gender to me but i dont think i could ever look like him</3

i think it's totally possible for anyone to embody his essence. you can even manage to rock something directly inspired by columbo without looking like you're cosplaying.

hair

if you have columbo's hair type, it's actually pretty easy to emulate his styles. i even know people who show pictures of columbo to hair stylists to get his look. my partner's hair in its natural state is very similar to columbo's--dark, wavy, tending to grow in spite of gravity rather than with it. whenever he gets his hair cut, he shows the stylist photos of late 60s/pilot episode peter falk, whose look is actually pretty on-trend for the current era. it works out pretty well.

your swag may have aged well pilot columbo but you can't beat floof

failing that, getting any haircut that is natural, low-maintenance, and not too attention-grabbing captures the visual language all the same. for reference, natasha lyonne in poker face has her hair in natural-looking, messy waves that to me just exude columbo.

clothing

how you present yourself to the world is up to you, but if you want to invoke columbo, there's a lot more you can do than buy a tan raincoat.

in an era of sharply-cut, wide-lapelled constructions, fat tie tuesdays, and gucci loafers, columbo stands out as classic comfort personified.

his collar, tie, and lapels are slim, proportional, and unassuming; they'd look good in almost any era. his pants fit closely to his leg but not too wide or slim, and sit at or near the natural waist. though his suits, shirts, ties, shoes, socks, and even coats rotate, there is a consistent color palette keeping him "on model". he embraces earth tones: creams, forest greens, light browns, dark browns, stony grays, rusts, and roses. his clothing seems like an afterthought, but it's an extension of his personality--rumpled and unassuming at first, yet sharp and deliberate upon further inspection.

amid the 1970s explosion of synthetic popularity, it says something that every stitch of textile on columbo's person is natural (aside from the raincoat, which is probably nylon or poly--he wears it without a lining and uses it as essentially an oversized windbreaker). his boots are leather with crepe latex soles; his tie is silk. his shirt is cotton, a bit boxy but comfortable and properly fitted. because the construction of his suits is roomy and unstructured, and because they're made of linen, they wrinkle easily.

this is easily confused for appearing slovenly. actually, all things considered, his clothes fit him pretty damn well, it's just hard to avoid wrinkling natural fibers like linen and cotton, especially in hot weather. he's running around los angeles sweating up a storm, the man needs loose, breathable fabric.

point is, columbo dresses very thoughtfully. since these clothes are workwear for him and he works a hell of a lot, it's imperative that he factors in the weather, his comfort, and proper fit when picking clothes. he wants to like and be comfortable in them while looking unassuming. so even though he sometimes ends up looking like an unmade bed, his choices are deliberate.

you could invoke these principles in your own appearance by picking earthy colors/jewel tones and comfortable, natural fabrics that you enjoy wearing, which has the added benefit of being better for you and the environment. consider also taking a few garments in to be altered. it's usually not that expensive, supports your local needlefolk, and makes even cheap clothes fit great.

as a last little aside, i think having a "signature" clothing item akin to columbo's raincoat would be a nice touch. a jacket, a pair of shoes, even a watch or necklace. something you always wear. if you really do want a raincoat like his, just make sure you're not buying a trench coat, because, repeat after me: columbo does not wear a trench coat.

[byneddiedingo]

Orson Welles and Alan Webb in Chimes at Midnight (Orson Welles, 1965) Cast: Orson Welles, Keith Baxter, John Gielgud, Tony Beckley, Margaret Rutherford, Jeanne Moreau, Norman Rodway, Marina Vlady, Alan Webb, Walter Chiari, Michael Aldridge, Patrick Bedford, Beatrice Welles, Ralph Richardson (voice). Screenplay: Orson Welles, based on plays by William Shakespeare and the chronicles of Raphael Holinshed. Cinematography: Edmond Richard. Production design: Mariano Erdoiza. Film editing: Elena Jaumandreu, Frederick Muller, Peter Parasheles. Music: Angelo Francesco Lavagnino.  Costume design: Orson Welles Falstaff wasn't the role Orson Welles was born to play, it was the role he grew -- and grew -- into. He knew he wasn't the great actor he wanted to be: There are countless stories of Welles ducking out of rehearsing scenes in which he appeared, using stand-ins to avoid performing opposite actors he respected. According to Simon Callow's Orson Welles: One-Man Band, Jeanne Moreau recalled that she waited several days to play one of their scenes together in Chimes at Midnight, and when she asked Welles why he said that he had lost his makeup kit: "I can't do any scenes till it's found," he claimed. "We'll start with the reverse shots of you, the close-ups," a technique he often used in which someone else would feed his lines to the other actor, so that Welles could later do his side of the dialogue by himself. When Moreau found the makeup kit on the set, an assistant urged her not to tell Welles: "He has stage-fright. He hid it himself." It's likely, however, that once you've seen Chimes at Midnight, Welles's Falstaff is the image of Shakespeare's character that will always stick in your mind. Other actors have played him as reckless, destructive, self-deluding, foolish, slovenly, and even at heart malicious -- justifications for all of these interpretations and more are present in the text. Welles plays him as just one step ahead of everyone else, so that Prince Hal's final repudiation comes to Falstaff not as a surprise or a crushing blow, but rather as a fulfillment of something he has always suspected might happen. The close-up of Falstaff's face after Hal's dismissal reveals not so much shock or disappointment as a kind of hurt mixed with "I thought this might happen" and even a little pride at having played a role in Hal's evolution toward kingship. It's a tour de force of silent film acting on Welles's part: For once he's not relying on the familiar resonances of his voice. The film itself was a famous commercial disaster, abetted by hostile critics such as the always unreliable Bosley Crowther of the New York Times, who scared away many potential distributors. It was caught up in a squabble over rights that kept it from being shown theatrically in Welles's lifetime, and it came into its own after it was restored for video release, which is still the only way most of us have seen it. It's also probably the most successful interpretation of Shakespeare for the screen because Welles was not bound by slavish devotion to the source: He picked and chose lines and scenes from at least three Shakespeare plays (Henry IV Parts I and II and Henry V) and arranged them in ways that suited the screen more than the stage. The Battle of Shrewsbury scene is a masterpiece of planning and editing, still endlessly imitated. But the film is also full of grand performances, including Margaret Rutherford as Mistress Quickly, whose account of Falstaff's death is both funny and heartbreaking, and Keith Baxter as a lively but rather sinister Hal. Welles also showcases John Gielgud better than any filmmaker ever did, allowing him to deliver Henry IV's "uneasy lies the head" monologue in his richly poetic manner, even though the performance is somewhat at odds with the more naturalistic ones of the film's other actors. (It's telling, perhaps, that both Welles and Baxter briefly parody Gielgud's delivery when they come to their mock father-son scene.)

[spacebookettes]

CONdusive an essay

The people are slovenly, they throw mud at the rafigees. They can’t catch the rafigees. They lived in the dark caves, the ones the bears don’t like. They’ve  never known farming. They just scrabble around eating roots and chafisquells.

The people die easily, they can not understand why putting bags of poo near their homes could cause a problem. Little splatters of poop all around their homes. Tiny fleks.

The people are lucky, this planet is warm and wet. Things grow easily. They can usually find food, no matter where they are.

They are too dull to war. What’s the point!

There are trillions of these planets, with trillions of people putting bags of poop near their homes.

One day a person ate one of the crystals that form on the rope bridges, in the mountains. The salts that fly through the air there become humid.

A happy person chuckles in a dark forest. They wander deeply into the undergrowth. Somehow every vicious tiger is circumvented. The person reaches a thick lake of decaying leaves. They dive in. Laughing and rubbing the rot into their head. They take some leaf mould mud and make a wall. A curved wall, with clay now.

The people have built dams. They know the deep water means something, only it doesn’t connect. Crystal eating people know that the fish will collect in the dams. For a long time everyone has a lot of fish.

The fish don’t reach their ancestral breeding pits.

There are no more fish.

The people who ate the crystals have been murdered. A sacrifice to the dams; Which have eroded.

Peter Stringer

[justice-for-jacob-marley]

For the 7 questions ask, Friederich from Struwwelpeter.

Three facts about them from my personal headcanons:

He's a talented skateboarder.

He adopted Tray after finding him as a stray puppy in the park and thinking he'd be a good "partner in crime".

His parents are not often around with work, hence why his older sister has to take care of him most of the time. A reason they suck:

He was rude and mean before learning his lesson.

A reason they are great:

He ends up learning his lesson and proves that we all can change for the better, at least in my version of the story.

A reason I relate to them:

I can be aggressive and angry at times. Also, I love dogs.

(what I consider to be) the top tier otp/ot3 for that character

None as of now. When he grows up, though, he will definitely be a perfect fit for Sophie Spoilall from Slovenly Betsy.

Five things that never happened to that character that I believe should have happened:

In an ideal universe, he should have learned to not take his anger out on everything.

In that same ideal universe, his parents and possibly his sister should have disciplined him from an early age.

There should have been scenes of him bonding with Tray before the whipping scene in the middle of the poem.

He should have gotten the good peppermint-flavored medicine instead of the bitter stuff.

In the film, Nikolaus should not have assumed he was still bad, picked him up and set him in the sack. (The Inky Boys, on the other hand...)

Five people that character never fell in love with and why:

His sister Gretchen. Incest is disgusting.

His dog Tray. Shipping humans with animals is also disgusting.

Peter. They seem like close friends, but that's it.

Kaspar. They fit more as a Calvin-and-Hobbes-type duo than anything else.

Paulinchen. I know I used to ship them a lot, but now I don't. They're way too different.

[aholefilledwithtwigs]

People not understanding the purpose of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Modernized Struwwelpeter (slovenly peter). Moral is bad kids die

Wanna play with matches? Well you’ll catch fire burn to death and smolder until flooded with the tears of your cats

The core appeal of Willy Wonka is that he's a nigh-omnipotent maniac who uses his near limitless powers over reality to trick shitty people into killing themselves. You can't make him the protagonist of a whimsical coming of age tale - you have to treat him like Jason Voorhees, or Dracula, or any other horror icon. Give him some new victims and new interesting kills and set him loose, that's all audiences want.

[slovenlyrecordings]

DJ Peter Slovenly EUROTOUR BEGINS TONIGHT IN OSLO W/ GRANNIE FUZZ 22.00-03.00!

Fri May 24 Oslo - Hør Hør

May 25 Amsterdam - Melkweg (Pretty Pissed Fest)

May 31 Amsterdam - Maloe Melo

June 1-4 Amsterdam - available

June 6 Berlin - Wowsville Bar

June 8 Berlin - Eschschloraque Rümschrümp

June 12-16 Sifnos, GR - available

June 19 Madrid - Fun House Music Bar

Fri June 21 Sardinia - Costa Verde

Fri June 28 Salsomaggiore - TBC

July 4-6 Kansas City - TBA

[luveline]

hello, lovely jade! im not sure if my request got sent to you a few days ago bc i know you weren’t feeling well either so i understand if you haven’t written it (and please, don’t be pressured to do so & i hope you’re feeling so much better now, sweetheart <3). but in case it didn’t get sent, i was requesting a soft morning sex with peter hehe, i love ur fics sm *cries* *sobs*

(pls ignore this if my request actually did get sent to you :>)

Hi baby! sorry this took so long i am feeling much better tysm <3 i love some sleepy soft morning time with peter 🥺 thanks for your request! SMUT WARNING 18+ PLEASE (p in v + prasie (too much praise))

You're already panting. 

Peter shushes you gently. You lie on your side opposite him, mostly useless under his probing touches. 

"Haven't done anything yet," he murmurs teasingly, voice still rasping, thick with sleep. That's not necessarily truthful.

One arm hooked under your neck and the other reaching lower, deft fingers having pushed your underwear to one side, Peter rubs dedicated little circles into your clit, tittering at your twitching and shallow breathing. 

You rub your thighs together, squirming. He abandons your already swollen clit to push against your entrance, fingers gentle in their exploration. 

You wiggle towards him so you can hide your face in his chest. He holds you tightly in one arm, lips pressed to the crown of your head as he slowly pushes his index finger inside you. 

He croons at your heat, your tightness. "How's that, sweetness?"

"More," you plead weakly. 

"Yeah? Get my tired girl ready, should I?" he asks quietly. 

You nod into his chest. He's quick to give into your pleading, opening you up with a second finger. Slowly, so slowly, he pushes in a third, the action dragging out lines of slick. You're too blissed out to care about the mess under your sheets, gasping as he curls his fingers into a soft spot. 

You're tired and already a little dizzied by it all, your sharp exhales coloured in pleasure. Peter laughs under his breath. 

"I got you, bub. Fucking wet already, my needy girl." 

You push your face into his neck. He moves deep but you crave deeper, hand trailing down his big arm, his hip, lower. You search for his cock, find him hardening under the loose material of his boxers, palming him through fabric desperately as Peter's fingers spread wide inside you. You push your hand into his boxers and ghost the tip of your finger down his shaft, feel his dick twitch. 

You giggle. Peter laughs too, pulling his fingers from your cunt carefully. 

"What's funny?" he asks. 

You pull your hand from his boxers to cradle his face, tilting your head back to meet his eyes. 

He smiles. You adore him so much in that moment it makes you laugh again, craning your neck to cadge a kiss. It's messy. He brings his damp hand to your face, the smell of sex only making you that much more desperate for his slow, searching kisses. 

"You wanna turn around?" he asks finally, lust evident underneath all his softness. 

You turn quickly despite your general tiredness and feel excitement bubbling out of you as he pulls you flush to his chest. You twine your fingers through his where his arm is squished beneath you, holding your breath as his free hand works your underwear between your thighs. You hike one of your legs up to give him better access and he kisses your neck, like a thank you. 

You feel the head of his cock rub against your slit. 

"Ready?" he asks. 

You hum. He's a brilliant multitasker; he sets about loving on your neck, scraping little kisses that are sure to leave a mark as he guides his cock into your wetness. You get chills, that first pleasure, moaning as he stretches you out. 

Peter does all the hard work, hips rocking slovenly into your ass. His hand is greedy where it presses into your tummy, grasping the soft flesh there. 

You bring your joined hands to your mouth to kiss his knuckles, wanting to hide the amorous sighs and moans escaping you, almost embarrassed at how easy it was for him to get you this loud. 

Peter mouths lazy, open kisses to your neck as he fucks into you, kind but enough that the slap of your bodies meeting echoes in his messy room. 

You whimper as he finally bottoms out, worse when he grinds his hips into you emphatically. "All full up, dovey?" he asks. 

You nod, turning your head the best you can. He rolls his hips over and over, and you can hardly catch your breath to say, "Uh-huh. So full, so big, Pete." 

His eyes crease as if to say, Flatterer. Still, your confession gets him good. You feel the change in his strokes, the purpose as they move from sloppy to spearing, hand moving from the swell of your tummy to your hips. He rocks your body into his and you help, the two of you performing a familiar dance. His cock brushes against your sweet spot and you squeeze his hand, your cunt tightens around his cock and he squeezes back. 

He falls into pleasure quickly, breaths tight and scratchy as he ruts. His grip on your hip is close to bruising and he has to abandon his slow fucking as he chases his climax. 

You press a kiss to his chin. "Fill me up?" you whisper pleadingly. "Please, Petey." 

He makes a sound so erotic it twists your tummy up and sends warmth to every nerve, moaning your name into the side of your neck as he empties his cum into your heat. 

His hand moves from your hip to your wet clit, struggling to find purchase. He goes slow, keeps his softening cock inside you as he finds your climax, whispering sweet encouragements into your ear. "Gonna cum for me, pretty baby?" and, "You sound so fucking pretty, sound so pretty getting all fucked open," and worst, "Sweet girl, I know you're close. I got you, I got you." 

You're close to tears as you cum, cunt contracting around his cock, thighs tightening as the coil explodes. You take a moment to come down, breathing hard as Peter holds you through it. You feel him twitching inside you in response and look at him through glassy eyes hopefully. 

He looks tired but pleased. "You want another go?" he asks lightly. You beam, and he cradles your face as he says, "And isn't that the face of a girl who gets everything she wants? On your front, then." 

[vicshush]

[ID: An illustration from Der Struwwelpeter ["Shock-headed Peter" or "Slovenly Peter"], a book of cautionary tales for children written and illustrated by Heinrich Hoffmann. Specifically, the illustration is of "Die gar traurige Geschichte mit dem Feuerzeug" ["The Very Sad Tale with the Matches"]. A cloud of smoke rises behind a girl in a dress, with several large bows in her hair, whose entire back is on fire. Her arms are raised and her mouth is slightly rounded in alarm, but her expression is otherwise fairly mild, with relaxed eyes and no lines from facial muscles flexing. She is midstep, up on one toe, and framed by two gray cats that are sitting on their haunches but have their forelegs raised up, mirroring the girl's arms. Their red mouths are wide open and pulled down, making them seem more distraught than the girl.

Text across the image reads "when you have a fairy tale ending but it's the German version".

/end ID]

[bibliocratic]

meditations jon/martin post-199, pre-200, no finale spoilers

Jon is curled inwards, away from the brickwork of the tunnel walls that degrades into densely packed earth, his body bowed and legs brought up closer to his chest like a slovenly question mark. Martin forms a distorted reflection of him, carnivalesque in the extent of their differences.

Their air mingles in the chrysalis they’ve made with the other. The spectre of cigarette smoke, a dash of unlabelled alcohol. The plastic-lined material of the sleeping bag amplifies the timbre of their speech with the acoustic quality of a confessional, their conversations meandering and earnest and a last-ditch unburdening of the soul, bookended by long, dwarfing silences that resonate with as much meaning. Touch is offered, given, laboured over with more care and thought like the final brush strokes of a painting the artist cannot bear to finish. Intentionally pained in their gentleness.

(“I read your poetry, you know.”

“What? When?”

“Way back. After you found Gertrude. You must have thrown them in the bin, while you were staying in Archive storage.”

“This was when you were…?”

“Yes.”

“Right. Makes sense. Did you… er, did you like them?”

“Not all of them. Too much Keats.”

“Oh come off your high horse, mister…”

“Buut. I was intrigued.”

“I’m so pleased to hear I was intriguing. Go on then. Which ones did you like then, if you can bear to tell me.”

“There was one…um, what was it. I’m sure it had a line about windows, yeah, ‘windows shimmering like trapped oil’.”

“God, that’s the one you liked? That one was terrible, Jon, they all were, that’s why they were in the bin!”

“I thought it had merit.”

“Well, if you thought it had merit…. Wish you’d read some of the actual good stuff. I had a few that I was pretty proud of. They weren’t perfect or anything, but not everything has to be.”

“No. No, you’re right.”)

Martin has his hand over Jon’s chest. Splayed out over his heart, strangely solemn. His forehead is warm against Jon’s, and the proximity rubs all the lines of him blurry. Jon is trailing the pad of his thumb down the back of Martin’s fingers, plotting knuckle to fingertip, and when he stops, the sensation lingers like a mirage.

(“When I was in the Lonely. When Peter did his… did his thing. I didn’t think of you. What losing me would do, how you would feel, how you might mourn like – like I’d had to. I could have, if I’d tried to, but I didn’t want to. Maybe I thought it was easier that way. The last tangible thought I remember having was that it didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.”

“I killed him. Peter Lukas.”

“I know.”

“I’m not sorry. I won’t ever be.”

“I know.”)

Time does not adhere to passage for all the future is borne closer to the shoreline of the present. Jon’s fingers continue their knitted-brow memorisation, trace at the puckered and unsightly barbed-wire drag of scarring a centimetre above Martin’s Adam’s apple. Martin kisses him, infrequently, unpredictable, compelled by thoughts Jon is not witness to, and his lips give their attention to clear and damaged skin alike.

It is like the gradual break-up of once insurmountable ice floe. Jagged chunks of conversation, mismatched, unmoored to the open spread of the sea.

(“I never – I never really wanted you dead, you know. Chopped up into little pieces. I just… it’s not an excuse, but you were… your presence was a testament to all the ways I wasn’t doing my job properly, that I wasn’t enough, and I resented that. So, I resented you instead, and I shouldn’t have.”)

(“I was so angry after you told me about the whole Eric Delano, leaving-the-institute, thing. I was angry that you wouldn’t just trust me, that you wouldn’t leave me alone, that you wouldn’t let me fade away. That all of a sudden you wanted me in your life when everything I was doing was to make sure you’d get to keep living it.”)

(“I would have done it. If you’d said yes. I couldn’t do it on my own. I didn’t know what it might do to me. Scared, I suppose. Still am.”)

(“I don’t want to die. I did, for… for a long time. But not now. I don’t want this to be it. All the time we get, all the life we got to live together.”)

Sounds of life from the other tunnels, the susurrus of moving and muted chatter, the preparations for a last stand.

Jon speaks his final piece against the skin of Martin’s collarbone, Martin against Jon’s cheek.

They kiss. Once. Neither of them say that it might be the last, but they both think it.

[killian-whump]

Which Colin Characters would blaze with Peter Sheerin?

What a good question! Unfortunately, we can't just ask them at one of their meetings, because there's a police officer at every meeting and so they all would just go, "Oh! Not me. No thank you." Except for Peter himself, who often is blazing at the meetings.

"It's canon," he says in his own defense. "Can't arrest me for canon."

And he's right, of course. It's in the Coven Charter. There's nothing the unnamed garda chap can do about it, even when Peter blows little smoke ring halos over his head.

"It's tough, It's tough," he says, and we all nod thoughtfully.

So in the spirit of science, obviously we needed another method of determining who in the coven would partake in a bowl of the devil's lettuce and who would not. Cleverly, we tried setting a bowl of bud in the garden and leaving it entirely unattended with a hidden Nanny Cam watching nearby to see who might take some.

In approximately 3.7 seconds, Peter Sheerin arrived and absconded with the entire fucking bowl. And he wasn't even sorry.

Well, anyway, your question was who would blaze with Peter, so we just decided to see who might join him in sharing the bowl.

Except no one joined him in the short time it took him to smoke through the entire fucking thing all by himself.

Another bowl was procured and this time we just gave it straight to Peter and informed him of our scientific experiment.

"I have to invite everyone?" he asked. "Yes. Everyone." "Even the one with the orthopedic shoes?" "Yes," we told him. "Even Michael." "And the one with no face? And the bastard with no knees?" "Yes, yes. Everyone." "What about the one who thinks he's God?" "Him too, Peter. Everyone."

And so Peter did as he was asked, because he's really a good lad deep down inside, we all know it, and we kept watch from afar to see who would take him up on his offer of blazing with him.

And, surprisingly or not, almost everyone came by for a toke or two... or more. I think Peter enjoyed the experiment, even when his less favorite covenmates showed up. It kind of mellowed everyone out - JJ even stopped begging for medical attention for a little while!

We did, of course, keep notes on who didn't show up. Brendan was a no-show, as he's really just a horny mama's boy at heart and drugs are bad, you know (but prostitutes and murder aren't??). Duke Philip was also absent, probably due to not knowing what "smoking a joint" means. Perhaps he would've come if Peter had invited him to have some hashish with him. Ben's a little too high strung, but we did manage to convince him to pop around and let Peter blow some smoke in his face. You win some, you lose some.

The nameless lumberjack was also a no-show, as it turns out he's a fan of clean living. Douxie also refrained, claiming he's "high on magic" - whatever that means. Preacher Peter told us that God said no, and Dr. Callahan simply said no - leading Peter to briefly contemplate if Dr. Callahan might actually BE God. That was about the time we realized Peter Sheerin had smoked way too much weed for one day and cut him off.

Unfortunately, we hadn't yet sent invites to any of the Hooks - so we just decided to straight-up ask them. Lieutenant Jones told us, "Only slovenly sailors partake in that," and tried to slam the door in our faces. Thankfully, one of the other Hooks overheard our query and intervened on our behalf. As it turns out, almost all the Hooks would be up for blazing with Peter - or anyone else... or themselves, or no one at all - save for the aforementioned Lieutenant and the sober Wish Hooks, who promptly got into an argument over whether pot counts or not. When we left, they still had not decided, and the argument had expanded to involve the entire Hook coven.

For those wondering, Kid Killian and Gerry were not offered any marijuana, because they are too precious and innocent of souls. We just gave Kid Killian some candy and Gerry a grilled cheese and watched their faces light up in sheer joy. Bless ❤️

[letterboxd]

Slovenly Creatures.

A Life in Film chat with Letterboxd fave Melanie Lynskey about fart jokes, comfort comedies, foundational film idols and her obsession with Kevin Hart.

“Not all the plot points have to tie together, it doesn’t have to make sense, it doesn’t have to be perfectly sharp. It just has to be funny, that’s all.” —Melanie Lynskey

Search through Letterboxd and you’ll find that New Zealand-born Melanie Lynskey has a special place in the hearts of film lovers. Lists dedicated to “my favorite actress”, “the least-appreciated currently working character actress”, “lovely Melanie Lynskey films”. Reviews that consist mainly of Melanie Lynskey’s name, over and over again. And so it is with her latest film, Lady of the Manor. Reviews of the ghostly, farty buddy-comedy are united on one thing: Melanie Lynskey.

Her secret involves a smart straddling of the indie-mainstream fence, one foot in comedy, the other in drama, and a weathered eye on the politics of her industry. Follow her Twitter account, and you’ll see that Lynskey’s tastes and influences are wide-ranging. She is a hungry devourer of recaps, a staunch ally of the marginalized, and generous with her praise of great work (including those she works with).

But for Letterboxd fans, it is simply about what Lynskey herself brings to every role, whether that be character parts in cult camp like But I’m a Cheerleader and Coyote Ugly, or as a devoted participant in 21st-century indie fare, often involving the Duplass brothers, and often with long, existential titles, or as a rock-solid addition to A-list ensemble adventures such as Up in the Air, The Informant! and Mrs. America.

Melanie Lynskey sparks up in ‘Lady of the Manor’.

“I have said it before and I will keep saying it until I lose my figurative online voice,” writes Lynskey stan Fred, “Melanie Lynskey is one of the best working actors and Hollywood needs to catch up yesterday.” She has been serving lesbians since her 1994 break-out in Peter Jackson’s Heavenly Creatures. She is the Queen of Indie. She is a gift. She can do no wrong. She is our spirit animal.

For Lynsksessives, a new Melanie Lynskey season is upon us. A Showtime series, Yellowjackets, in November. In December, she will be seen in Adam McKay’s starry new astronomy caper, Don’t Look Up. And right now, those hunting for a charming indie comedy led by our favorite goofball need look no further than Lady of the Manor, from brothers Justin and Christian Long.

“I wanted ghost Judy Greer interacting with stoner Melanie Lynskey and I got ghost Judy Greer interacting with stoner Melanie Lynskey,” writes Owen, of the supernatural buddy comedy in which hot mess Hannah (Lynskey) is haunted by prim and proper (and probably murdered) Lady Wadsworth (Greer), while trying to hold down a job as a tour guide at Wadsworth Manor.

In order to help Greer’s uptight apparition find peace, Hannah must solve the mystery of the manor’s ownership. That, however, requires her to overcome an extreme lack of ambition, terrible personal hygiene, and sleazy advances from a toxic and horny Ryan Philippe. Angela Alise and Luis Guzmán pop up in somewhat underwritten supporting roles, but Lady of the Manor is, above all, a buffet of physical comedy delights for Lynskey lovers.

Letterboxd editor-in-chief Gemma Gracewood jumped on the line with Lynskey for a laugh and a cry about David Lynch movies, the late Katrin Cartlidge, teen obsessions, and being a responsible Academy voter.

Lady Wadsworth (Judy Greer) serves some manners to her re-enacting dopplegänger, Hannah (Melanie Lynskey).

Lady of the Manor feels like a Pygmalion situation, you know? My Fair Lady, but you are Eliza Doolittle and Judy Greer is Professor Henry Higgins, and the transformation is actually not that huge: Hannah goes from this complete stoner to still a complete stoner, but maybe with a few additional life goals. Melanie Lynskey: That was the thing that really sold me on the movie, honestly, was that she just didn’t really change that much. The moment that I was, like, ‘I’m going to do this movie’ was when she’s all inspired—“I’m going to return the house to its rightful owner”—and she marches off purposefully, and then it cuts to her at the bar and she’s just wasted again. It was so funny to me. ‘Oh wow, they’re really letting her be a mess. They’re not trying to redeem this person.’

You and Judy Greer have an insane chemistry. Can you share some insights into that working partnership? It was so much fun. We’ve never gotten to work together, because it’s always: she’s doing the role, or I’m doing the role, or Kathryn Hahn is doing the role. There’s usually one part that’s right for us in a movie, and so, to have two different roles that are right for both of us, it was such a dream.

A lot of it is on the page, because Justin and Christian worked so hard on the script, and it was at a point that they were really, really happy with it, and they were very fond of a lot of the jokes. We did get to add little things here and there. We got a lot of freedom and a lot of room to improv.

Who is the best movie ghost, apart from Judy Greer? All I can think of is Ghost. Oh, Beetlejuice. There you go. That’s an amazing ghost, that’s a great movie.

What else should we watch Judy Greer in? Who can name only one favorite Judy Greer performance?! She’s so incredible! The ones that come to mind are Adaptation, The TV Set, Jeff Who Lives At Home and Three Kings. She is a marvel—beautiful, funny, kind, smart, an amazing improviser and a great friend.

What is the film that first made you aware that filmmaking is something you could do, as opposed to watch? I don’t really know what film made me aware of what filmmaking was! I always knew I wanted to be an actor, since I was about six years old and did a school play. I didn’t really watch a ton of movies as a kid. My parents were not really movie-goers. When I was about thirteen I started watching Twin Peaks, and from there I saw Blue Velvet and Wild At Heart, and that was the beginning of me realizing what kind of work really excited and interested me. So for 30 years now, I’ve had a dream of working with David Lynch.

And I started to try to watch everything that certain actors did. I got very obsessed with Katrin Cartlidge, who became my favorite actor. I loved her in Mike Leigh’s Naked and Career Girls, in Lars Von Trier’s Breaking The Waves, Lodge Kerrigan’s Claire Dolan and Milcho Manchevski’s Before The Rain. Through following Katrin’s career I started to piece together what I wanted my own to look like. She made incredible choices and was just so different and so good in every performance.

I was lucky enough to work with her before she passed; we did a movie of The Cherry Orchard and worked together for three months. I will cherish those memories forever. She was maybe an even more amazing person than she was an actor, and that is really saying something.

A publicity still from ‘The Three Musketeers’ (1993) with Oliver Platt, rear left, as Porthos.

What was the first film that gave you teenage feelings? Well, I was a bit of a goth as a teenager. When I saw Alison Maclean’s short film Kitchen Sink, that was a big moment for me. I was like, wow. If I could make a movie that would express my soul at this moment, it would be this film. And I have loved all her movies since that one. The Rehearsal was so good! And Jesus’ Son. I keep hoping I’ll get to work with her.

As a teen I was very swoony over Oliver Platt. He was my number one crush. So any Oliver Platt film had me feeling some things—Flatliners and The Three Musketeers, especially. I’m still swoony over him today, to be honest.

What is the next hidden gem that you think Letterboxd members should watch? My two favorite movies in recent memory are Shannon Murphy’s Babyteeth and Remi Weekes’ His House. Eliza Scanlen is absolutely glorious in the former. It’s a really deep and beautiful performance. Her parents are played by the incomparable Ben Mendelsohn and Essie Davis, both of whom destroyed me. The whole movie destroyed me. But my favorite performance in the movie comes from Toby Wallace, as the young-but-older love interest of Eliza Scanlen’s character. My god, this is an electric performance. He’s unbelievably good in it. Emily Barclay is great in it too. The movie is funny, heartbreaking and beautifully directed. The music is amazing.

And His House is just great. A really creepy, twisty thriller with a very tragic story at its center. It’s about a refugee couple who have escaped from South Sudan and are moved into housing in England, and the house is torturing them. It’s the most compelling movie I’ve seen in such a long time. The two leads, Wunmi Mosaku and Sope Dirisu, are flat out movie stars. You can’t take your eyes off either of them and the performances resonate on a thousand different levels. They’re astounding, and it’s incredibly accomplished filmmaking. Please please see these movies.

Because you’re from New Zealand, we’d be remiss not to ask what’s a must-see New Zealand film in your opinion? If we’re talking about silly, fun comedies, and also women being funny and silly, I really love The Breaker Upperers. That was very, very, very charming and hilarious to me. I hope that more people see that.

Katharine Towne, Clea DuVall, Melanie Lynskey and Natasha Lyonne in ‘But I’m a Cheerleader’ (2000).

For anyone still sleeping on Letterboxd favorite But I’m a Cheerleader, in one sentence, why should they watch it? Oh, because it’s a campy romance with an amazing cast. It’s Clea DuVall and Natasha Lyonne falling in love with each other, it’s sexy, it’s sweet, it’s genuinely funny. It’s beautiful to look at. That’s not one sentence, that’s about twelve sentences, sorry. I’m so proud of that movie, I love that movie so much.

It’s an interesting one. It’s been growing in stature around here over the years, and I love to see it. Yeah, very much. The reviews were outright negative when it came out.

What was the last film that made you cry, either because it was so sad, or because you were cry-laughing, or any definition of tears being shed? Mm, gosh, the last film that made me cry… Oh, do you know what? I really cried at the end of Another Round, where he’s dancing.

That ending. I’m going to cry. Sorry, it really got me. And also knowing what Thomas Vinterberg had been through, just the joy that was in that moment, the idea that you can just go through all this, and still have these moments of joy, and return to this person that you were before all this life happened to you. Just the purity of that moment really, really got me.

And not to mention just the sheer joy of Mads Mikkelsen dancing. Yeah, god, just the beauty of that man in that moment and, ugh, god, what a great movie.

What mindfuck movie changed you for life? It would probably be La Cérémonie. I had kind of a one-two punch of being introduced to Isabelle Huppert with La Cérémonie and Amateur, and it’s been true love ever since. I was like, who is this and what else can I see her in immediately??

I don’t know if La Cérémonie is a mindfuck but it’s definitely very dark and it gets really crazy! Sandrine Bonnaire is amazing in it too. But the first time I got to see the incredible intensity and commitment of Isabelle Huppert is really a moment I’ll never forget. It feels like there is a before and after for me.

Finally, some Letterboxd members have described the joy Lady of the Manor has brought them in the midst of an ongoing pandemic. As Robert writes, “I’ll watch Melanie and Judy ham it up for an hour and a half, and be fine with that. Some of the lame jokes in this have made me laugh harder than most films I’ve seen this year.” When it comes to the role of comedy in a crisis, what are the cozy, comfort re-watches that have kept you going through the pandemic? Aw. I have a toddler, so we’re not watching too many movies. Around the time of the Academy Awards, I really buckled down, because I wanted to be a responsible voter, and I tried to watch everything. So, that was the most movies that I’ve done in a concentrated period of time, but none of that was really “comfort” feeling.

The movies that I do return to, when I feel like I have time to just chill out: Wet Hot American Summer is a big comedy movie for me. Justin did this really weird movie called Strange Wilderness with Steve Zahn and Jonah Hill years ago that is so weird and funny, I really love that one. All the Christopher Guests, like Waiting for Guffman, Best in Show, those are my go to.

And then Kevin Hart. I’m a big, big, big Kevin Hart fan. There are times I’ll be on a plane and I’ll think, “Oh, I should really watch this movie that I’ve been meaning to watch.” But if there’s a Kevin Hart movie, no chance, that’s what I’m going to watch. I’ll go to the movie theater opening weekend to see a Kevin Hart movie. Kevin Hart right now is making a movie with Regina Hall. I’ve seen it on their Instagrams, and I’ve never been more excited for a film.

What is it about Kevin Hart for you? He is a comedic genius. He is absolutely brilliant, and he will do something in almost every scene that surprises me, and it’s crazy. He can be doing something that’s a real rote, by-the-numbers movie—they’re not all masterpieces—but he makes it new, and interesting, and surprising. Nobody reacts better than Kevin Hart, he is such a funny reactor. He’s always in the moment, I think he makes other people funnier and better. I’m obsessed, I love him.

It’s reassuring to hear you say “they’re not all masterpieces”, because I think comedy is so hard. It is so hard to reach for a five-star comedy, but the truth is that we’re all happy in a sort of three-star comedy world. Those are the films we return to again and again. Of course! Yeah, and that’s all you’re hoping for with, especially, a silly comedy. You just hope that there’s enough moments that people laugh, and feel like they’ve got a good laugh, and they’ve relaxed for a while. Not all the plot points have to tie together, it doesn’t have to make sense, it doesn’t have to be perfectly sharp. It just has to be funny, that’s all.

Lynskey, as Hannah, with ‘Lady of the Manor’ director and co-writer Justin Long as Max, her academic love interest.

On that note, the Long brothers call this “a fartwarming comedy”, and several Letterboxd reviews comment on Lady of the Manor having “the single best fart joke in ages” or “just the right amount of fart jokes”. Why are farts so funny, Melanie Lynskey? Do you know what? I don’t find them funny at all, I really don’t. I’m a little bit prissy and there are things in this movie where I was like, “You’re just going to have to tell me exactly what to do.” Like the farting in the room, and burps and stuff like that, I’m not good at that stuff, but people think it’s funny. I don’t know. It’s kind of beyond me…

Wow, so you really exercised your acting muscles on this. Exactly, exactly, it’s the greatest performance of my life!

Related content

Eileen’s list of gay ’90s movies starring Melanie Lynskey

Mystery Thriller’s list of stoner comedy films

Horny Ghosts—a list by Carlos vs. the Wolf Man

Antoniaaa’s list of female buddy movies

Rent Alison Maclean’s Kitchen Sink and The Rehearsal

Follow Gemma on Letterboxd

‘Lady of the Manor’ is available now on VOD, Blu-ray and DVD. ‘Don’t Look Up’ is in select theaters from December 10, and on Netflix on Christmas Eve.

[sawthatmountainburn]

if anyone else is curious, the writing in question seems to be from Sticks and Stones: The Troublesome Success of Children's Literature from Slovenly Peter to Harry Potter. I wasn't able to find quotes in the 5 minutes I was willing to spend on this, but I did find a review/summary, which seems to corroborate what OP says.

I think its jack zipes who talks about the distinction betweem 'children's literature' [marketing term] and 'children's literature' [what children organically read], the latter category being largely impossible to qualify and taking in things like billboards, receipts in mom's purse, labels on clothes, tv subtitles, random page of book left on a low shelf, dropped post-it note, street signage, writing on a coin, etc.

as adults we ignore this latter category and buy into the marketing term so completely we forget that's all it is. the concept of books just for children (and later the emergence of YA) was always a profit-seeking endeavour, and it emerged from the idea that children needed restricted information diets and upright moral instruction. around the turn of the 20th century, people started gifting children (or their parents) religious texts, books of manners etc. which were not produced FOR children, but which were deemed especially suitable to improve them. this led to the establishment of 'children's books' as a discrete category in publishing (BECAUSE IT MADE MONEY), and for the rest of the century the idea of books as a morally superior medium for children hung around. books are better for you than comics, radio, tv, movies, etc. they improve your mind, they're like the vegetables in your media diet. it's so deeply ingrained as a cultural preconception that it feels almost sacrilegious to challenge it, but it is a completely arbitrary qualifier that arose from the desire to squeeze money from parents' desires to 'improve' their children.

[corinnesamuels]

Guarding the Gates, Chapter 9: Discretion is Such a Valuable Tool

Shoutout to the AMAZING @the-dream-team for creating this for me! Gives the fic a lil razzle dazzle, don’t you think?

A good old patronus soul mate trope to get the blood flowing, Remus has a hard time, and Lily and Sirius confront old friends.

In the weeks following James and Miranda’s breakup, there had been speculation amongst the gang about what that meant for Lily and James. For the two people in question, however, there was no indication that anything would be changing. They laughed at the same jokes, and the time they spent in person still had the same cadence. They were  friends , and the two of them reinforced that dynamic whenever asked. Secretly— irritatingly —Lily reinforced it with herself every time she saw that lopsided grin, which seemed to be making more and more of an appearance lately. 

It was as if the breakup had broken a dam inside of him, and now he joked more and laughed with less reservation. The glint in his eye that appeared when he was contemplating mischief had reappeared. Every day he became more and more like the version of him she’d once known. Sirius had made similar observations, saying how great it was to have his friend back at full force. 

Lily had loved getting reacquainted with James when she returned to England, but to see those parts of his personality return warmed her from the inside. He seemed happier, more free. Lily loved the way it looked on him. Except for when she didn’t. This more robust version of an adult James was a lot for Lily to take in. His personality was simply overwhelming some days, not because he was being obnoxious, but because it was almost impossible not to be drawn to him. It threatened to disrupt the precarious balance that her emotions currently maintained. Lily couldn’t risk disrupting that balance, so she made it a point to carry on the same life she had been living, and her occasional recreational dalliances helped a great deal.

Except for when they didn’t. Like today, when Lily realized that she’s going to have to let go of Terry.

It’s a shame, really. He’s a nice bloke and gets the job done well enough. But Lily has noticed that he seems to be straying from their original arrangement. He usually either left first thing in the morning after their liaisons or stayed just long enough to make and wolf down a quick breakfast. Lily had appreciated it because, as her friends love to point out, she’s terrible at cooking.

But lately, he’s attempted, thrice now, to stay into the afternoon. While Lily doesn’t want to be rude or harsh, this just isn’t what they signed up for. Especially not on a day when she is already running a little late to an Order meeting. He jokingly asks why she seems like she’s in a rush and hints at not believing that she really had somewhere to be. 

It takes everything she has to remain calm.

“Nothing about our arrangement requires me to share my daily schedule.” She’d said at close to noon that day as she hastily put on her shoes. She waved her wand toward his belongings, and they began hurtling at him faster than she’d intended due to her irritation, but he’d gotten the hint after that. 

When she arrives at the meeting a few minutes late, she waves off Marlene and Dorcas’ concerns with a “don’t ask” and a resigned rise and fall of her hand before jumping into the agenda.

The Order of the Phoenix functions well. Dumbledore has instituted a complex but subtle system for meeting locations, dates, and times and spends early meetings going over spells and skills that might be useful for the days ahead. Dumbledore picked most of them because they had excelled during their time at Hogwarts, but certain forms of magic were usually beyond what even the brightest seventh years managed before their time at school ended.

And so, they found themselves assessing the talents of the group and ways to maximize them. It was a well-known fact that The Marauders were good at stealth due to their ability to cause mischief as students. So Dumbledore tasked them and the Aurors of the group with assisting the rest in learning advanced magic related to stealth and concealment. “You lot must not have been too good at being stealthy if you got caught so often.” Dorcas quips during one meeting. The four men looked at each other and grinned. 

“Meadowes,” Sirius tuts. “We very rarely got caught on accident, love.”

“You can’t be legendary if no one knows your story.” James chimes in with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Sometimes you have to let yourself get caught for the greater good.”

“The most legendary thing about the two of you is your detention records.” Marlene smirks, looking over to Lily before rolling her eyes. 

“Was that supposed to contradict what I said?” James asks with a laugh. Remus does his best to cover up a laugh of his own.

Lily, Marlene, Caradoc Dearborn, and Elphias Doge led the group in potions making. In addition to maximizing stores for members to have available to them, Dumbledore also had them work on potions whose brewing processes made Lily feel as if she’d run a marathon once completed.

Little by little, Lily began learning the strengths of various members of the Order of the Phoenix. Most everyone in the group was an accomplished dueler, particularly the Prewett twins and Edgar Bones. People like Hestia Jones, Sturgis Podmore, and Emmeline Vance were able to navigate Ministry circles to subtly gather information that employees were too afraid to say around Mad-Eye Moody, Frank, and Alice. But nothing surprised Lily more than discovering that the slovenly thief Mundungus Fletcher was a member of the group  because  of the fact that he was a thief.

“Dung was dead helpful while we were in school.” Peter says in Mundungus’ defense after one meeting. Lily, Marlene, and Dorcas let their eyes travel from Peter to his friends with raised eyebrows, waiting for confirmation.

“Let’s not go into the details, Peter. They aren’t necessary at this juncture.” Sirius cuts in. When Lily’s face still holds traces of mild judgment, Sirius rolls his eyes. “Oh, don’t look like that, Red, you were a spy. Surely you saw worse than a thief.”

Lily had, of course, seen much worse. “Yes. Usually, the kind that were sober while on the job.” 

“It’s helpful to have someone in a group who can acquire…things of questionable origin.” Remus says diplomatically. “Especially information.”

“Yeah, it makes sense for Sturgis, Hestia, and Emmeline to do reconnaissance at the Ministry.” James replies. “But they can’t very well walk through Knockturn Alley and ask pointed questions without looking suspicious, can they?”

“How do we know that he’ll even remember what he learns from poking around in Knockturn?” Lily asks skeptically as she watches Mundungus falling asleep in his chair. “Surely you don’t think he’s going to go sober?” 

The gang takes a moment to observe Mundungus with her. It is a valid question they hadn’t considered.

“Pensieve, probably.” Sirius says finally. 

“Ah.” The others hum and nod in agreement before going back to their tasks.

In one particular meeting, Dumbledore decides to cover communication methods between members.

“I am sure you will find that we need ways to communicate with each other that owls and the Floo won’t be able to accommodate.” He says. “You may need to send a message quickly, and with the way Lord Voldemort’s ranks are growing, we may soon find the Floo Network being monitored surreptitiously. Muggles have a delightful invention called the ‘telephone.’ You pick up a receiver and can be in conversation with an old friend in mere seconds.”

Lily and Dorcas exchange grins, thinking of the summers they spent in the muggle world, on the phone with Mary, giggling like the schoolgirls they once were.

“It inspired me to create something similar,” Dumbledore continues, “and after perfecting it, I am ready to teach it to each of you. How many of you are familiar with the Patronus Charm?”

Various sounds of mild shock reverberate across the room as members of the Order exchange confused looks with each other. “Sir, I’m sure most of us have heard of it, but from my understanding, Patronuses don’t talk, do they?” Lily asks, voicing the confusion of the group.

“Not until recently.” Dumbledore replies. “As I said, I’ve perfected the method.”

A shocked James lets out a huff of air before catching Lily’s eye. She knows that his thoughts echo her own.  How in the fuck was Dumbledore so good at magic? Who would even think to take that charm and make it twice as useful and three times as difficult?  Lily shakes her head and lets out an exhale of her own, and he grins at her. 

It takes more effort than it should have for her to pull her eyes away from that grin.

“There are fully-trained Aurors who can’t even pull off a corporeal Patronus.” Frank says from the back of the room. “And you’re saying that you’ve amended it in some way?”

“I am.” Dumbledore says patiently, as if the people in front of him aren’t intimidated and shocked by the idea of performing this level of magic.

“Stop gawking and get a move on.” Moody growls from his section of the room. “Being afraid of a charm isn’t going to help you learn it.” He mumbles about the lack of gumption witches and wizards show nowadays.

At this, and with looks of slight trepidation over their shoulders toward Moody, the members of the Order of the Phoenix began working on casting the Patronus charm. Lily, who had always been adept at Charms, was able to produce a slight mist by the end of the session. Frank, Alice, and Moody could already produce non-corporeal Patronuses and worked on getting them to take shape before they left to return to the Ministry.

“Duty calls.” Alice says with a wave as they leave. 

Lily is still working on producing more mist when she sees James frustratedly struggling to produce even that. She smirks at him as she lets her mist float into his line of sight. “And to think you used to say you were better at Charms than I was.”

James cuts his eyes at her, irritated at not being able to gloat at the moment. “I used to say I was  just as good  as you at Charms, Evans. And I am.”

“We’ll see.” She says with a shrug before turning back to her Patronus. 

James rolls his eyes. “Professor Dumbledore, what transfiguration-related spells do you have for us?” 

“Grow up.” Lily retorts.

“Get a room.” Sirius grumbles with an eye roll of his own. Marlene laughs from her place next to him. 

“If they start acting like they did in sixth and seventh year, I’m going to bring up the idea of shoving them in a broom closet again.” Marlene says.

“And this time, we’ll actually do it.” Sirius replies dryly.

Lily’s words lit a fire in James that he hadn’t felt since playing Quidditch before his mother died. He always had thrived on competition. So after the Order meeting, he goes to three different bookstores and buys all the books he can find on the theory behind casting Patronuses. Sirius scoffs at this initially, but he, Remus, and Peter soon end up joining James in the sitting room of the manor, pouring through books and pages. They hadn’t made this much of an attempt to learn something from a textbook since James, Sirius, and Peter became animagi. And while the others may just want to learn because Dumbledore requested it, James is not only determined to produce a corporeal Patronus, but to produce one before Lily does.

To his frustration, Lily just barely beats him. 

They had been reviewing the spell at the beginning of an Order meeting, and they’d both been producing dense mists, just starting to take shape before dissipating. James closes his eyes, calms his nerves, and takes a deep breath to regroup before attempting the spell again, but before he can focus on his happy thought, he hears her excitement across the room. Knowing that it could only signal one thing, he curses under his breath before turning to see the inevitable.

He curses again, audibly and disbelievingly this time, when he sees the Patronus ambling across the room. Four legs, hooves, ears upright. In his shock, he doesn’t realize the strange looks he’d gotten from the people standing closest to him.

“Are you alright, James?” Peter asks.

But James is back in time, recalling a passage he’d read in one of his books while feverishly trying to pin down the charm—the one he and Sirius had joked about before ultimately ignoring it and going back to working out the incantation. 

  There is a belief amongst wizards that similar Patronuses are shaped by deep feelings one may have for another. Indeed, many agree that witches and wizards with the same or similar Patronuses may even be soulmates.

  James doesn’t answer Peter as he watches Lily’s doe move about the room and returns to her. She looks at it fondly and drifts her fingers along its silvery glow before it bows and disappears. He notices that Lily still has that look about her that she’d had when she was introduced to new magic in school—reverence mixed with the pride of accomplishing something new. He can’t help but grin at her across the room, nodding his head in salute as she smiles back and shrugs one shoulder before hugging Dorcas happily. It reminds James of all those days he used to watch her in classes…when they’d joke during their rounds…how she’d hugged him and smiled in a way that lit up the room after Gryffindor had won the quidditch cup during their last year…

He’d known it would work this time before he even recited the incantation. “Expecto Patronum!"

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