#whose life story is devastatingly tragic

[occidentaltourist]

Before Gentleman Jack: Emma Donoghue on Anne Lister and Eliza Raine

Bestselling author Emma Donoghue introduces Anne Lister (now often known as Gentleman Jack) and Eliza Raine, the real women behind her latest novel, Learned By Heart.

Who was Eliza Raine, and what was her relationship with Anne?

I wish Anne Lister’s first lover was just as famous as her, but Eliza Raine (1791-1860), shamefully mistreated during her long life, has been ignored ever since she died in obscurity. This fascinating woman – orphan heiress of an English East India Company doctor and his Indian ‘country wife’ – deserves attention not just for her beauty, her importance to Lister and her vivid letters, but for her outsider perspective on Regency England. Banished to the so-called motherland to be ‘Englished’ at six, with a sister she never got on with, Eliza Raine must have witnessed society from a uniquely critical perspective, and so I found it was her untold story that ended up as the centre of Learned by Heart.

Is Gentleman Jack based on a true story?

Yes, the two seasons of Sally Wainwright’s BBC/HBO series Gentleman Jack (2019-22) are not only gripping, big-budget period drama, but they’re based on archival documents. Wainwright somehow managed to craft the dramatic arcs of each episode from the daily minutiae of Lister’s five-million-word secret diary. I can’t think of another example of TV adaptation actually contributing to an archive in a virtuous feedback loop: Wainwright not only used a screenwriting award to fund scans of the massive diary, but the fandom spawned by her show helped inspire hundreds to sign up as Code Breakers (aka Lister Sisters) and do the comma-by-comma work of transcribing it. A smaller group of the Code Breakers also made it possible for me to write Learned by Heart, by transcribing and making sense of about a hundred letters between, by or about Lister and Raine.

[senseandaccountability]

Sorry for a question out of nowhere but! Who are your favourite writers? What genre do you read the most? Do you have a favourite book of all time? I’m interested in my favourite fic writer’s faves! :)

Yay, more literature questions! I answered a related ask some months ago, but I am a librarian by trade after all, so I love to talk about these things and will try to rotate my faves a bit. Right now, for example, I’m reading a folkloristic book about the forest in Swedish mythology and culture, L’autre fille by Annie Ernaux and A Ghost in the Throat by Doireann Ní Ghríofa.  I try to read from various genres all the time because it keeps the analytical skill going. And because the whole finding your genre is a trap when it comes to fiction, lol. The brain is not meant to be that narrow-minded in its scope, it wants to stretch. I just finished a very moving children's book about grief and friendship, for example, that absolutely made me cry because of how factually and devastatingly it painted the immense confusion after someone you love dies. And the gorgeous thing is that since this is aimed at kids, you can show grief as a huge owl that moves in. Just like that. It's blue and it doesn't say anything, but it doesn't want to harm you, either. It watches as you make coffee and forget that you only need to make coffee for one now. You can scream at the owl that it should go away, but it doesn't. It sits there, huge and blue, in your house. The nerve! You will have to find a way to co-exist with it. In time, it may shrink and you may think it disappears but it just takes on another shape and starts wearing your loved one's clothes and help you clean your house and one day, when the sun shines again, you open your door and find another person there, who asks if you maybe want to hang out for a while. And the owl nods.

One of my absolute favourite genres is any kind of collective novel, which is often a combination of two things I adore: proletarian literature and modernist fiction. Novels or series of novels telling the tale of a city or a war or the fates of a huge family through the ages, mmmm. I also enjoy narrative history - Peter Englund (see image above) is a very literary historian, writes beautifully about little slices of life during wartimes which is right up my alley. Other than that, I read a lot of literary fiction (whatever that is), poetry and a very specific genre of gothic/dark academia that’s best represented by the early novels of Carol Goodman, I guess. There are a lot of books like that but so very few I truly like. Crime works best for me when I listen to it and then I typically pick something easy-to-digest read by actors I enjoy listening to (unfortunately I’m picky and elitist when it comes to narration) but there is one Swedish crime author whose books I devour the moment they are released and that’s Christoffer Carlsson. Introspective broody angst about tiny rural places in Sweden during the 1980-90s, anyone? Yeah, it might not translate super well, I don't know. I love him. I also enjoy Tana French though I haven't read that many of her latest. I don't want spies or cool agents or high stakes or serial killers or international crime syndicates, I just want gritty bleak accidental violence or authors who use the crime format to tell a story about something else. One novel that I always kept putting on top of my favourites list back when I did those is Possession: A Romance by A.S Byatt. I read that one while studying literature at Uni so it meshed well with everything for me and for that reason I’m not sure I’d love the book as much now. I’ve never read anything else by Byatt that has moved me. Around that time I also read What a Carve Up! by Jonathan Coe and adored it, but same disclaimer for that. As a teen, I would have put Wuthering Heights there, for sure and I mean, a gothic novel about class and prejudice dressed as a tragic love story with ghosts, what's not to love?

And finally, two books that made me look at things differently after reading them. Giovanni's room hurts in my soul still, and I think I must have read everything I could find by Jean Rhys after she tore Mr Rochester a new one in Wide Sargasso Sea.

[drivingsideways]

Year-end discussion in the Indian film space was dominated by the success of controversial film maker Sandeep Reddy Vanga's latest offering of undiluted misogyny and rage, appropriately titled "Animal"; but the best commentary I've seen on failed fatherhood and violent, toxic masculinity this year comes in a 2 minute scene in Kaathal: The Core, where a wizened old man testifies quietly in a family court that yes, he always knew that his son is gay, and still coerced him into a heterosexual marriage.

Kaathal: The Core isn't a film without flaws; one could argue that it's the quintessential film made about queer people by straight allies- actually more interested in the reaction to queerness and the adjustment to queerness by cishets, than in queer lives; that it has a one dimensional view of the reality of queer living in India. It has its moments of what I call "educational speechifying" that feel tonally at odds with the rest of it, but again, this paternalism in Indian cinema of the self-consciously "progressive" variety isn't unfamiliar.

The ending feels a little trite, and some artistic choices- an actual rainbow in the sky appears as the two lovers drive off into the sunset of their newly liberated lives-feel particularly anvil-like- much like the ending of another of director Jeo Baby's films, The Great Indian Kitchen, which was an exploration of the brutality of Indian-flavoured patriarchy. In short: a movie filled with intricately and deliberately placed subtleties that occasionally - somewhat inexplicably-loses confidence in its audience, and chooses to remedy that by being a bit over the top.

But those are minor quibbles. This movie gutted me. The story revolves around a middle-aged closeted gay man from a small close knit village community in Kerala whose life- and the lives of those around him- is thrown into disarray when his wife of twenty years files for divorce citing his gayness as the reason for the breakdown of the marriage- a step she takes just as he's nominated as his party's candidate for the local elections. With this premise, you'd be forgiven for expecting the movie to be high decibel melodrama- and possibly a tragedy- from start to finish. Instead, it deliberately chooses the quieter route, the most tender one; while not flinching away from the grim realities of widespread homophobia, it portrays both individuals and a community who , in a moment of crisis, discover that they are better than they think they are. And it does this not from a jingoistic, self-congratulatory ethno-nationalist perspective- but from a place of genuine love- as a reminder and a beacon in these dark times.

All of this is anchored in some fantastic performances- Mammootty once more showing up to remind us why he's one of the greatest living actors in the world, and Sudhi Kozhikode as Thankan in what should be a multiple-award winning performance as his long time lover. I've rarely seen an actor make so much of their limited screen time. When I say that minutes 50-52 of this film are the most devastatingly tragic-romantic moments in world cinema, you'll think I'm exaggerating and perhaps I am, but I can also guarantee that you're going to want to rewatch that sequence at least ten times and cry about two old geezers in love. Lives were changed in those moments, no lie.

My one disappointment in terms of performances is Jyothika, playing Omana, the long suffering wife. Omana is one of the stand-outs in the history of female characters in Malayalam cinema, and Jyothika is- barely adequate. When you contrast it with a similar role - say Hsieh Ying -xuan's performance as Liu San-lian in Dear Ex (2018)- the flatness is even more jarring. Still, the sheer love with which her character and her relationships, especially with her husband, are written carry the film through.

Tl;dr: watch it on Amazon Prime or at a theatre near you! You will not regret it.

[ryanmeft]

Movie Review: The Last Duel

Once, Ridley Scott brought in a bunch of awards and cash with Gladiator, a movie that was viscerally thrilling but historically tragic, responsible for more myths about Rome I’ve heard than any other single source. Later, he turned in Kingdom of Heaven, a better epic with a similarly fictional plot but a lot more to say about the true nature of the Third Crusade, and fans weaned on the blood-and-guts then popular in film didn’t like it as much, largely because it asked them to think a little.

Now we have come full circle, and he has turned in The Last Duel, a historical picture about as true to the events depicted as it is possible to be and still get a movie that 21st century viewers might watch. It concerns the real life figure of Marguerite De Carrouges (Jodie Comer), her older, second husband Jean (Matt Damon), and his defense of her rape claim against squire Jacques Le Gris (Adam Driver). The story is told in four parts: what he said, what the other he said, what she said, and the duel, the last one ever fought in France to settle a legal matter.

Though Marguerite’s story is last, it is not least, and I have listed her first not out of any sort of political concern but because the entire movie concerns her. To everyone involved, she is to some degree an object. To Le Gris, she is an object of desire, and the fact of his desire overrules any say she might have in the matter. His “love” for her entitles him to have her, and the fact he feels it means she has to, as well. A woman in this age and place was not a person with opinions of her own, but a sort of pet whose views were projected on her by how men felt about her.

That will not be surprising to those who have heard the “locker room talk” of such men. Yet it is not merely that Le Gris believes that, simply by being kind to his face, Marguerite has already given herself to him. To Le Gris, and most of the court, including the debauched, proud and useless Count Pierre (Ben Affleck), the only reason for a woman to resist a man is as part of a game that eventually ends with that resistance being overcome. Scott and screenwriters Nicole Holofcener, Affleck and Damon are careful to establish early on that this is not a disapproved-of attitude in 14th-century France. Of course the men approve, but many women regard it as simply a part of court politics, and anyway Le Gris is considered devastatingly attractive, so who among them would not want to be ravished by him?

Jean is a different sort of soldier. We see him in the opening scene, chomping at the bit to begin a charge, against orders, after the enemy beheads captive peasants simply for cruelty’s sake. His wife and son have died of plague some time earlier, and unlike Le Gris he is an illiterate man who cares nothing for the sordid politics or moral depredations of court life. He and Le Gris are true friends in the beginning, but they slowly part over Le Gris’s unchecked lecherousness and, more importantly, his willingness to manipulate what Jean sees as a corrupt government for his own benefit. Yet for modern viewers who, despite there being no indication of it, expected the movie to be a feminist tale, Jean is not quite the hero you are looking for. He is possessive of his young wife, as greedy for more land and status as Le Gris, and when Marguerite reports her rape his chief outrage is the shame the rapist has brought to him. He is less contemptible than Le Gris but still a man of the 14th century French nobility, and he might easily be compared to a modern moralizing patriot, whose guiding principles are informed more by privilege and superiority than by the needs of those they claim to protect, and whose views cannot be shifted by time, enlightenment or the opinions of others.

The story is told three times, and Scott and Dariusz Wolski are careful to stay away from sensationalism in the re-tellings. Instead, Wolski’s camera choices are tilted just a bit each time, so that two versions of the same scene are shown from a similar-but-not-identical perspective. In Le Gris’s recollections of a party, he is effortlessly charming and the lady he is attempting to seduce seems quite willing. In Marguerite’s recollection, the woman openly rejects him as being a lecherous skirt chaser well known for his ego. Note that in Le Gris’s memory, we can’t hear anything the woman says at all, implying women’s words are of no import to him. In Jean’s memory of Marguerite telling him of the rape, he offers some minor questioning of her honesty but quickly and nobly defaults to doing whatever he can to defend her. In Marguerite’s, he becomes enraged at the idea of his own tarnished honor, nearly throttles her, and then insists on intercourse with his traumatized wife so that Le Gris will not be “the last man to have had her”. We are clearly rooting for Jean to win the duel, but only on the basis that he is a lesser evil than Le Gris.

These knights bear greater resemblance to modern street gangs, ruled by codes that have more to do with dominance and violent retribution than any Arthurian ideals. The duel is not for Jean to defend his wife. Indeed, she confronts him when she learns that if he loses, she will be burned at the stake, something he never told her before literally throwing down the gauntlet. He is every bit as motivated by his desire to get Le Gris out of his way at court and prove his possession of Marguerite. When he of course wins (the movie would never have been made if he had not), he drags his wife onto the field of victory and holds her hand high with his. A certainly fictional moment that is often triumphant in cinema here feels perverse and twisted. Marguerite remains an object and a prize. The better man has won, yes, but what can that mean in a world where goodness has no bearing on anything?

Verdict: Highly Recommended

Note: I don’t use stars, but here are my possible verdicts.

Must-See

Highly Recommended

Recommended

Average

Not Recommended

Avoid like the Plague

You can follow me on Twitter here, if you want more posts about film and video games and sometimes about manscaping:

https://twitter.com/RyanmEft

All images are property of the people what own the movie.

[fabien-euskadi]

✍️

🥀

🎼

:)

✍️ - favourite work of literature?

To be brutally honest, I am not exactly sure if this is the best piece of literature of all times, although it’s one of the most celebrated romances ever written - and, make no mistake, one of the most amazing (and, sometimes, brutal). It also has the most intriguing and fascinating protagonist - that also happens to be the villain of the story. As you may have guessed, I am talking about the only romance ever written by Miss Emily Brontë, the amazing Wuthering Heights.

But we can ignore its intrinsic value and look at this novel from a personal point of view. I was 17 or 18 when I first read it, and, immediately, there was an epiphany - it was the moment when I realized that I was going to be a writer, no matter what happened. Obviously, life’s turns and twists didn’t make it all that simple, and my constant self-doubt made the rest... but I am still working on it, I am still running after my goal, my fate, my destiny. And I am not going to give up, I know I have the skill, the will - it’s my fate, it was written in the starts on the day I was born.

Anyway, it’s the only thing I can do properly. All my life since then has been related, in one way or another, with writing.

🥀 - favourite fictional friendship/couple?

Judging by my previous reply, you could feel tempted to presume that I was going to chose Heatcliff and Catherine. But no. The relationship between those two has simply sickly obsessive, violent, destructive and self-destructive, full of rage, resentment, hate. It’s fascinating to look at it, but… my favourite? No.

But I need to choose a couple, right?

The problem is that I am fascinated by tragic heroes and tragic heroes, despite being the motor of good stories, are always doomed creatures.

In the end, I decided I was going to chose Toto and Helena, from Nuovo Cinema Paradiso. Yes, it was a ill-fated romance, but the meaning of their story, their romantic failure leads to the final scene of the whole film (yes, THAT wonderful, wonderful scene), whose meaning is simply devastatingly amazing. I too should take a note or two from that final - not to copy or even to take any inspiration for my novels, but as lesson for life.

🎼 - favourite song & artist/composer?

I would not be me if I had just a favourite song and a favourite artist/composer.

Instead, I am going to chose whatever I am listening right now. If I am listening to it, it is my favourite band and song, at least for a few minutes.

The band in question should be from Bolivia or Peru, but, oddly enough, they are from Porto Alegre Brazil. The band is called Tierramystica... and, by all the gods, it’s an absolute tragedy that these guys are not HUGELY successful. Make no mistake, the quality of their music is simply outstanding - it’s also original, extremely melodic and, at spaces, ethereal. Basically, we are talking about a exquisite fusion of melodic (power) metal with Andean music -  and that means that, together with the usual electric guitars, bass, drums and keyboards, they also use pan flutes, ocarinas, charangos, quenas and so on.

The song I am listening right now is “Shine, Once Again”... and it’s, probably, the best from their second album, “Heirs of the Sun”.

(thank you)

[veenaspakistanlitblog]

Ten Interesting Pakistani Novels

Under the Persimmon Tree by Suzanne Staples (Summary by Amazon)

Najmah, a young Afghan girl whose name means "star," suddenly finds herself alone when her father and older brother are conscripted by the Taliban and her mother and newborn brother are killed in an air raid. An American woman, Elaine, whose Islamic name is Nusrat, is also on her own. She waits out the war in Peshawar, Pakistan, teaching refugee children under the persimmon tree in her garden while her Afghan doctor husband runs a clinic in Mazar-i-Sharif, Afghanistan. Najmah's father had always assured her that the stars would take care of her, just as Nusrat's husband had promised that they would tell Nusrat where he was and that he was safe. As the two look to the skies for answers, their fates entwine. Najmah, seeking refuge and hoping to find her father and brother, begins the perilous journey through the mountains to cross the border into Pakistan. And Nusrat's persimmon-tree school awaits Najmah's arrival. Together, they both seek their way home.

2.) The Diary of a Social Butterfly by Moni Mohsin (Summary by Amazon)

This is the hugely entertaining journal of a socialite in Lahore. Pakistan may be making headlines - but Butterfly is set to conquer the world. 'Everyone knows me. All of Lahore, all of Karachi, all of Isloo - oho, baba, Islamabad - half of Dubai, half of London and all of Khan Market and all the nice, nice bearers in Imperial Hotel also...No ball, no party, no dinner, no coffee morning, no funeral, no GT - Get-Together, baba - is complete without me.' Meet Butterfly, Pakistan's most lovable, silly, socialite. An avid party-goer-inspired misspeller, and unwittingly acute observer of Pakistani high society, Butterfly is a woman like no other. In her world, SMS becomes S & M and people eat 'three tiara cakes' while shunning 'do number ka manual. 'What cheeks!' as she would say. As her country faces tribulations - from 9/11 to the assassination of Benazir Bhutto - Butterfly glides through her world, unfazed, untouched, and stopped short only by the chip in her manicure. Wicked, irreverent, and hugely entertaining, "The Diary of a Social Butterfly" gives you a delicious glimpse into the parallel universe of the have-musts.

3.) Maps for Lost Lovers by Nadeem Aslam (Summary by Amazon)

If Gabriel García Márquez had chosen to write about Pakistani immigrants in England, he might have produced a novel as beautiful and devastating as Maps for Lost Lovers. Jugnu and Chanda have disappeared. Like thousands of people all over England, they were lovers and living together out of wedlock. To Chanda’s family, however, the disgrace was unforgivable.  Perhaps enough so as to warrant murder. As he explores the disappearance and its aftermath through the eyes of Jugnu’s worldly older brother, Shamas, and his devout wife, Kaukab, Nadeem Aslam creates a closely observed and affecting portrait of people whose traditions threaten to bury them alive. The result is a tour de force, intimate, affecting, tragic and suspenseful.

4.) A Season for Martyrs by Bina Shah (Summary by Amazon)

October 2007. Pakistan’s former Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto returns home after eight years of exile to seek political office once more. Assigned to cover her controversial arrival is TV journalist Ali Sikandar, the estranged son of a wealthy landowner from the interior region of Sindh. While her presence ignites fierce protests and assassination attempts, Ali finds himself irrevocably drawn to the pro-democracy People’s Resistance Movement, a secret that sweeps him into the many contradictions of a country still struggling to embrace modernity. As Shah weaves together the centuries-old history of Ali’s feudal family and its connection to the Bhuttos, she brilliantly reveals a story at the crossroads of the personal and the political, a chronicle of one man’s desire to overcome extremity to find love, forgiveness, and even identity itself.

5.) Karachi, You’re Killing Me! by Saba Imtiaz (Summary by Amazon)

Ayesha is a twenty-something reporter in one of the world’s most dangerous cities. Her assignments range from showing up at bomb sites and picking her way through scattered body parts to interviewing her boss’s niece, the couture-cupcake designer. In between dicing with death and absurdity, Ayesha despairs over the likelihood of ever meeting a nice guy, someone like her old friend Saad, whose shoulder she cries on after every romantic misadventure. Her choices seem limited to narcissistic, adrenaline-chasing reporters who’ll do anything to get their next story—to the spoilt offspring of the Karachi elite who’ll do anything to cure their boredom. Her most pressing problem, however, is how to straighten her hair during chronic power outages. Karachi, You’re Killing Me! is Bridget Jones’s Diary meets The Diary of a Social Butterfly—a comedy of manners in a city with none.

6.) How It Happened by Shazaf Fatima Haider (Summary by Amazon)

Dadi, the imperious matriarch of the Bandian family in Karachi, swears by the virtues of arranged marriage. All her ancestors including a dentally and optically challenged aunt have been perfectly well-served by such arrangements. But her grandchildren are harder to please. Haroon, the apple of her eye, has to suffer half a dozen candidates until he finds the perfect Shia-Syed girl of his dreams. But it is Zeba, his sister, who has the tougher time, as she is accosted by a bevy of suitors, including a potbellied cousin and a banker who reeks of sesame oil. Told by the witty, hawk-eyed Saleha, the precocious youngest sibling, this is a romantic, amusing and utterly delightful story about how marriages are made and unmade---not in heaven, but in the drawing room and over the phone.

7.) A Case of Exploding Mangoes by Shazaf Fatima Haider (Summary by Amazon)

Intrigue and subterfuge combine with bad luck and good in this darkly comic debut about love, betrayal, tyranny, family, and a conspiracy trying its damnedest to happen. Ali Shigri, Pakistan Air Force pilot and Silent Drill Commander of the Fury Squadron, is on a mission to avenge his father's suspicious death, which the government calls a suicide.Ali's target is none other than General Zia ul-Haq, dictator of Pakistani. Enlisting a rag-tag group of conspirators, including his cologne-bathed roommate, a hash-smoking American lieutenant, and a mango-besotted crow, Ali sets his elaborate plan in motion. There's only one problem: the line of would-be Zia assassins is longer than he could have possibly known.

8.) Home Fire: A Novel by Kamila Shamise (Summary by Amazon)

Isma is free. After years of watching out for her younger siblings in the wake of their mother’s death, she’s accepted an invitation from a mentor in America that allows her to resume a dream long deferred. But she can’t stop worrying about Aneeka, her beautiful, headstrong sister back in London, or their brother, Parvaiz, who’s disappeared in pursuit of his own dream, to prove himself to the dark legacy of the jihadist father he never knew. When he resurfaces half a globe away, Isma’s worst fears are confirmed. Then Eamonn enters the sisters’ lives. Son of a powerful political figure, he has his own birthright to live up to—or defy. Is he to be a chance at love? The means of Parvaiz’s salvation? Suddenly, two families’ fates are inextricably, devastatingly entwined, in this searing novel that asks: What sacrifices will we make in the name of love?

9.) She Loves Me, He Loves Me Not by Zeenat Mahal (Summary by Amazon)

Zoella didn’t know whether she was devastatingly happy or happily devastated. Zoella has been in love with Fardeen Malik, her best friend’s gorgeous older brother, since she was ten, but he’s always seen her as a ‘good girl’—not his type—and he can barely remember her name. Besides, he’s engaged to a gorgeous leggy socialite, someone from the same rarefied social strata as the imposing Malik family. In short, Zoella has no chance with him. Until a brutal accident leaves Fardeen scarred and disfigured, that is. Suddenly bereft of a fiancée, Fardeen is bitterly caustic, a shell of the man he used to be, a beast that has broken out of the fairy tale world he once lived in. And a twist of fate lands him his very own beauty—Zoella. This man, however, is a far cry from the Fardeen of her dreams. Stripped of her illusions, Zoella creates her own twist in the fairy tale, beating him at his own game. Order now and read this modern, unusual interpretation of the old-age fairy tale, in which Zeenat explores the themes of love, longing, and arranged marriages.

10.) Undying Affinity by Sara Naveed (Summary by Amazon)

Twenty-two-year-old, Zarish Munawwar, has everything in life she could ever ask for; an elite family, a high profile status, a bunch of good friends and a childhood sweetheart. Being childish, stubborn, imperious, extravagant and a bit impulsive at making important decisions pertaining to her life, is what perfectly describes her overall personality. She takes life easily and can get anything she desires. To her, life is a bed of roses. It is only when she meets, Ahmar Muraad, her mentor and finance professor at university, her perspective towards life completely changes. He looks quite young for his age as every girl at the university thinks he is attractive, seductive, intellectual and rather intimidating. This charming man is every girl's fantasy and Zarish also finds it hard to resist him. But is he fascinated by her? Little did Zarish know how one little interaction could bring about so many twists and turns in her life. After continuous unsuccessful attempts to avoid him, she feels that she is gradually falling for his charm. Ahmar, however, remains oblivious to her feelings. She is ready to abandon her childhood sweetheart for him. Eventually, there comes a time when only he matters to her and nobody else. Awestruck by the sudden revelation, she is dazed to find out that he feels exactly the same for her. Before their love blossoms, a slight tragedy falls into their lives. Zia Munawwar, her father, has some other plans for his daughter. Will Ahmar fight against the world for his lady love or step back? Do not miss this romantic tragedy as it will encapsulate you totally and will stay in your heart forever

[sweetestlamb]

Too Little Too Late

Summary: Mun-yeong doesn't forgive Gang-tae after their heated kiss.

Author's note: As promised, here is grovel GT fic it's going to be shorter expositions, I wrote this on my work commute lol 😂 I'll update as I can. This will be a slow burn and he will really have to win over our girl, as always enjoy! (I know I said that last story, might be my last story for a while but inspiration struck what can I say?...um surprise!)

Image by @vivavorever I just thought this picture was perfect! I had to steal borrow it 😊😊

Let's talk.

Instinctively she feels her hormones ramp up at those seemingly innocent words, memories of his body pressed against hers saturating her senses. But this time the phrase appears to have no encrypted interpretation as he leads her down the winding staircase and to her broad mahogany table.

And then he's talking.

Finally opening up to her and sharing the darker corners of his complicated history, tales of homicide and heartbreaks and her chest is tight watching the raw hurt that pours from his eyes.

Heart aches for Sang-tae who was forced to witness such a heinous act that still tortures him to this day.

Shattered by the thought of two young boys whose innocence was snatched away so viciously at such an early age, forced to grown up and raise themselves because of the evil act of another.

If she ever encountered that butterfly she would rip it to pieces, slowly. Make it squirm and suffer the way they had.

....and I need you.

With those words her revengeful thoughts dissapate, furling away in a puff of smoke as he utters the words she has longed to hear, her ears have been starved to receive.

She waits to feel elated. For her heart to curl back up reattaching all the pieces his story shattered into jagged egdes. Waits and waits. Instead anger and frustration manifest like twin demons unleashed from a caged prison.

He hadn't needed her at the beach when he'd ripped her heart out and left the bleeding organ on the grainy expanse of the beach, the heat from her heart enough to morph the particle into glass.

She had clearly been expendable when it came down to preserving the farce that he and his brother were living, like a ship in a bottle contained and pristine but lacking any true semblance of life. At their first obstacle he'd thrown her to the wolves instead of fighting with her, fighting for her. Despite his declarations and doe eyes now, that was the reality that snapped her from her dream.

"Are you finished?" She whispers, fingers clasped on the surface of the table, heart in her throat.

He blinks at her, openly disgruntled by her words. Mouth gaped in wonder.

It's so devastatingly evident what his expectations were and she wonders when exactly she become so weak, so brittle that he believed she would simply accept him back without even a smidgen of remorse for the sharpened words he'd stabbed into her chest.

"Was that all you wanted to say?" She repeats herself, stare growing frostier with his continued silence.

Finally he snaps out of his stagnation, sputtering, "I..- Yes. I just wanted you to know I.. I'm.... Um."

For a moment she's hopeful, disgustingly so. Eager for him to realize what she requires without any assistance. Because that will ensure that he too understands his wrongs and he's proactively restoring their battered relationship. She waits for him to complete his sentence, heart on her tongue.

"I'm.... going to do better. You just need to win Sang-tae, over and then we can move back in and all be together." He finishes and her anger and frustration melt away instantaneously, blown away with a gasp falls from her lips.

Another test. It's never enough. She'll always be an outsider clawing to be in their word, this elusive love that she's been searching for her whole life will always be just out of her reach, on the cusp where she cannot roam.

She's not enough. Not good enough. Not kind enough. Not worthy of love. Simply not, enough.

He was supposed to be different, the one who saw through her facade, to everyone else she exuded nothing but confidence and impassive cockiness but hadn't he seen her broken enough to know that she wasn't strong? Was so tired of pretending to be strong while the world crushed her to a pulp. He wasn't supposed to see her as an emotionless princess or an empty can.

Yet his words and actions made it clear that he did. She was expected to move on now because he had deigned that their spat was over and done with. She was expected to grovel and plead with his brother for a spot in their life, once again Gang-tae would merely be a moderator and not an offensive player in this game. A coveted toy for them to tussle over, some distorted version of tug of war.

She was so tired.

She didn't have the strength or desire to tug any longer.

She was letting go.

"Thank you for sharing that with me." She sat up straighter, bracing herself for her next words. It wouldn't be easy for her to say them, a small part of her wanted to just curl up and cry, take the crumbs that he threw her way and thank him for his graciousness.

But today a larger part, that sounded eerily like Jeung-Sae, told her that "it was pathetic to wait around for some guy, if he wanted you he would come get you." Sang-in had slapped a hand over her mouth as he repeatedly apologized and at the moment her rage had burned so deep that she stormed out of the room, flipping the green and yellow bags on the ground contemptuously. Her vision flushed in vibrant red.

Today she lets that advice wash over her, a cooling balm.

Gang-tae smiled at her, expectant look on his dastardly handsome face. Wasn't it said that the devil would come with a beautiful face? She was sure of it now, she was staring right at him.

"I'll speak to Sang-tae, to apologize for leaving him out. I'll be a better best friend to him from now on."

He blinked at her words, doing little to hide his emotions today, it was just too little too late in the end.

"Oh. Okay good, if you convince him then we--"

She cut him off with a raised hand, "No. That has nothing to do with you or us. That's between me and him."

She watched him jolt in his seat, his eyes now wavering as he searched for answers on her face, for once that wouldn't be necessary she was prepared to voice her ideas.

"I don't want you to move back in."

"What? Why!? I thought you wanted us to...."

She almost laughed at the absurdity of him, unable to say aloud what he believed that she wanted, as if it was exclusively something she yearned for.

And maybe it was. She had always been the driving force and creator, bending them into something that resembled a normal functioning relationship whilst he ran and spat poison at every turn.

"I'm tired." She stands up, turning away before her heart betrays her and clings to him.

His hand on her wrist halts her movement, she pauses eyes watering, tears dangerously close to falling but her jaw tightens in resolve.

"Mun-yeong, I don't understand...?"

She sighs, dragging her hand away, "That's because all you can see is your pain."

She's tempted to hurl his own poisonous words back at him, but she reconsiders, they've hurt each other enough. She'll break this vicious cycle.

"Leave Gang-tae, I need time away from you."

She walks away, hand desperately clutching at the railing, her body is heavy as all her strength evaporates leaving her an empty husk.

There is silence. And then the front door opens. And there is more pained quiet.

And then the ocean pours into her living room as she falls to her knees.

He leaves without a fight.

How tragically expected.

[ephemerlskies]

in the stars tonight | pjm

⇢ pairing: jimin x reader

[other members - seokjin, taehyung, namjoon]

⇢ genre: series, ANGST, enemies to lovers au, actor!jimin, actor!oc, (eventual) fluff if you squint

⇢ word count: 8.4

⇢ genre: Landing a role that might launch your entire career as an actor had come with the most unpredictable and daunting circumstances: grappling with the tragic loss of your boyfriend, Namjoon, and co-starring in a film with the vexing yet enchanting (and famous), Park Jimin.

⇢ warnings: explicit language, themes of grief/loss, themes of depression, (many) mentions of death, mentions of driving under the influence (please stay safe!!), themes of alcoholism, themes of escapism, mentions of alcohol, mentions of marijuana, unhealthy coping mechanisms, lots of internal dialogue with one deceased boyfriend, arguing/bickering, seokjin being seokjin, eventual love triangle (ish) feud

♪ playlist: dynamite - bts, move! - niki, saint nobody - jessie reyez, through the night - iu, ilomilo - billie eilish, the truth untold - bts, slow dancing in the dark - joji ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 (coming soon)

a/n: i, and i cannot emphasize this enough, can't believe this came out of me.... it was just a lil idea in my head, but then it expanded into this entire story that was way too long to fit into a one shot. so, here's me serving up a hot plate of enemies to lovers with a generous side of angst and longing!!! i hope y'all enjoy (and hate) arrogant jimin as much as i did hehe <3 ps i have no idea how long i want this series to be i'm lowkey winging it

The world does not slow down for anything. Not for catastrophes or miracles or even something as devastatingly common as death.

When your boyfriend of three years, Namjoon, lost his life due to another's drunken mistake, you realized this. The world revolves on a scheduled orbit, and not even your tragedy wedged a wrench big enough to halt life just a moment. Just to let you breathe and grieve without feeling left behind. However, you were left behind, both by the world and him.

Every sun and moon, every skipped meal, every unfulfilled rain-check, every isolated Saturday night, and every cancelled audition that came as quickly as they left paid tribute to this merciless phenomenon. It seemed you now existed just to watch the days pass, just to balefully relive the moments before Namjoon's passing. And that seemed to have been the only way you could have survived. To make a recluse of yourself because if the world was careless enough to let someone as amazing as him go, then what held it back from spilling even more wreckage into your life? For the past six months, you stuck to the cold, dead past. It was all you had to hold onto; letting go meant plummeting into a depth far too unknown and inescapable.

You and Namjoon were steadfast. You were still steadfast, or more appropriately, stuck now that you had no one to be loyal to anymore.

You and him were one of those couples other people saw and wished they could replicate into their own lives, but when it came down to it, rooted for your happy ending with him. The type similar to that of highschool sweethearts who beat the odds, or the type whose encounter fell along the silver lines of fate. Something beautiful that automatically made all the love poems authenticated by you and him. And when he held you, the idea of worry or evil seemed like concepts that did not exist past fictional tales. So warm, so loving, now gone.

The way in which you and Namjoon grew over the three years you were able to love him was in a convergent manner.

Your branches and vines were woven into his, and his into yours. Even your roots, the elements of your past, began to entangle beneath the soil. To root between each other meant there had been a foundation from which you grew, a stability that was once neat. There was no boundary of which would discern your life from his. And at one, more favorable, point in time, your life did belong to him. Namjoon was someone you only knew for a mere fraction of your life, however the moment he wandered into it, you had unlearned how to continue without him.

You didn't think you would have to relearn.

But then one decision forced you to do so. One person, who decided paying fifteen bucks for an Uber was not a wise enough investment, ripped out the plant of his body from your shared soil by means of inebriated judgment and a missed red light. You had no choice but to absorb the cruel sustenance of the sun completely alone. Most of your branches of life were left barren, with torn twigs where your body once borne fruit and leaves and beauty. But the roots were where most of the pain inhabited. A stubborn, sharp ache resided in your chest, deep enough that you might have had to be cut open and searched through to find the source.

It had been six months of 'Sorry for your loss' and 'Gone too soon' and your personal least favorite 'He's in a better place now'. It made you angry, because was there a place better for him that didn't have you in it? How could anyone know what was better for him when they didn't experience something as tender and gentle and loving as your relationship?

But none of the sympathetic smiles or half-hearted condolences made you quite as angry as the monster who was too selfish to call someone to drive them and consequently punctuating the eternity you were meant to spend with Namjoon. You always followed the virtue that an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. Forgiveness was a sweeter release than anything else, but if you could, you would take that drunk driver's life in a heartbeat. You would have gauged out your own eyes if the chance fell into your reach.

Though, no matter how hard you screamed at the universe for hurting you, despite the countless pleas to somehow retrospectively tell Namjoon not to go out for something as trivial as toothpaste so he might be alive today, holding your hand in this waiting room, telling you that you're going to do great, you knew the world wouldn't stop for you or your sorrow.

It revolves, waits for no one, and you had to pace yourself to jump back into the turning carousel of life.

"___. We're ready for you!" His voice was ten notches above a volume that wouldn't irritate you. The only hint you let slip that his tone made you want to throw this script at his crotch was the muted sigh.

You knew this audition was going to play out like the rest. They would ask you to read, stop you in the middle of your monologue, then say something like 'Thank you for your time, we'll get back to you soon' which was show business code for 'We are not giving you the role'. The only reason you were here was because you had been out of work for too long, the piles of overdue bills on your kitchen table a cruel reminder of that. Plus, you knew Namjoon would have told you to go.

He would have said something like, 'Get your lazy ass out of bed and go to that audition! You don't want Hollywood to miss out on a star just because you want to sleep in fifteen more minutes'. And it would have worked. It always had. Now, the only motivation that came to your aid was the echo of his voice, and even that had begun its slow descent into forget. Other than that, guidance of your own volition was as fleeting and disarrayed as a violent wind.

"Hi, my name is ___, and I will be auditioning for the lead. Jordan." Your hand must have been fielding its way through a nervous tick. The person you assumed was the director was eyeing the way it had been contorting at your side, and you hated showing that you were nervous.

"Perfect! We've already casted the other lead role. This audition will mostly be based on whether we think you'll have good chemistry with him." Him. So your possible running mate was a man. Before a list of names engraved on rows of stars cemented into the Hollywood walk of fame ran through your head, you lifted the script and collected all the air your lungs would allow.

Maybe, you thought, my courage and passion might come with it.

And when you opened your mouth, something magical that you credited to talent claimed sovereignty over your body. Now, you were Jordan. Jordan didn't have a dead boyfriend, now ex boyfriend, or luggage enough grief to sink a depression into the crust of the Earth. Jordan was a kind, low-energy, and sentimental artist coming into an age of overwhelming success and fortune —and love.

That's what alluded you in acting. For a moment, you could escape your life, leave your pain on the back burner while you emerged into someone who was unacquainted with the pain of losing the love of your life. It was akin to a drug, administering an intoxicating fill of temporary serotonin. Instant relief, and if you got this job you would have your fix of this twisted sort of high that tempered the Namjoon-sized void in your life. And Jordan's life definitely seemed to have, quite literally, all the things yours lacked.

"Wow, ___, was it? That was absolutely incredible!" The hand-covered whisper that followed this appraisal gave you time to begrudgingly peel of the Jordan mask. Within a half second, all the pain seemed to compound into your body. If you hadn't already shaped your entire life around that weight, you would have fallen over. Though you had done this, and even worse, you had been shouldering it for so long, you would have felt naked without such a burden. "Okay, well, we have a few more auditions but I think we have our Jordan! We'll send your manager the full script along with the schedule for the first week of shooting in about two weeks."

"Uh-" If you had not said something quick, the opportunity might have slipped away all too fast, the way Namjoon had. You vowed to grab hold of anything remotely good that arose into your life, giving you more than late nights of choked sobs and transfixed gazes out of half-curtained windows. This offer was clutched tightly in your fist. "Oh... Th- thank you! Thank you! Fuck, thank you so much. This means so much to me, thank you!"

Before you proliferated the meaning of the words thank you and the director's smile turned into rolled eyes, you stumbled your way out of the door. Waiting on the other side was a world that might strike against you with partially docile cruelty. The wind pressed against your skin, almost blowing away all your grief with the help of this successful audition.

That feeling, as always, was as comforting as it was fleeting. Because the scars of your past would not have budged for any brash current. Because your next thought disrupted the scant flourish of joy. It was the thing that came easier and sooner to you than eating and blinking; telling Namjoon any news of both good and bad ranks, sharing your life to celebrate or stress over. One of the many things that remained by an undissolvable adhesive along your mind. You tried to soak it away with liquor or smoke it out with weed, but there was no breaking of habits you loved almost as much as Namjoon.

I did it, Joon. I landed my first role. You thought, because that was the closest you could have gotten to relaying the news.

Your heart began to physically hurt. Heartaches were literal in your case. Literal and grim. You felt the grip of loss pierce its sharp thorns into your flesh. It had nearly been as painful as all the times your words were met to deceased ears, speaking to someone that had not belonged to you anymore. Six months had passed and pain cannot tell time in the way people can. So, you knew the marathon of your grief was one that followed its own metaphorical clock. You just had to keep running in hopes you could make it out alive.

Though, being Jordan for the next six months would help momentarily satiate your grief. If there were a remote for your emotions, this role would be the mute button. Your pain would still move as it usually would, but now it would be silent. You wouldn't have to listen to its unforgiving taunts and crippling obscenities. It was only just that you were paid reparations for six months of utter misery with six more months of narcotic, soundless distractions.

Two Weeks Later

If the universe had given you one good thing, it was skill and dedication to your craft. The script was memorized in just short of four days, and even a sizable amount of lines of the other characters had been stacked atop your memory. Doing an acceptable job at this role wasn't something that was worried you. In fact, the idea of wearing another's life on your body and on your heart was something you looked forward to. 

It was a bit difficult to convince yourself how good this natural born gift was when the universe took something that felt a thousand times more crucial to your existence. Acting, or anything else that planted joy in you, was a consolation prize for merely participating in life. Namjoon was the reward you were meant to win in the end.

And you had no idea what the hell to do when the prize becomes in all of the sense of the word unattainable.

You hadn't driven in six months, despite the run-down Honda parked in front of your street, desperate to be given some sort of purpose. It was too much. Ever since the accident, the idea of manning a wheel that could take away more than it could ever offer was a responsibility you felt entirely too daunted to assume. Even though seat hogs, missed busses, and overcrowded walkways had been inconveniences of an indescribable level, it wasn't enough to put your body into the same vehicle that derailed your life.

Luckily, the bus stop was only three blocks away from the studio. It gave you plenty of time to get into character, however it also nestled in a span of time for Namjoon's voice to filter in and out through running your lines.

He talked to you a lot. As much as it made you want to cry, you held onto it, feeling as though it might be the last of his voice you'd be able to recall. If Namjoon's internal commentary were to suddenly disperse, you might forget his voice entirely. And you wouldn't admit this to anyone else, but you would always answer back. Sometimes out loud, and sometimes, when company forced you into sanity, you responded mentally. It kept you separate from life and any form of interaction with actual people, but it felt better than living in a world without him. Additionally, it helped keep his voice alive, which when you thought about it, was such sick irony. His voice, alive, his heart and mine and soul, dead.

And that was the only downside to acting. When there was another mind you had to engage in, Namjoon couldn't have broken the barrier and his voice wouldn't even register as an echo. Perhaps that was why you waited so long to dive back into your job. It felt synonymous with betrayal to do anything that would sever your connection already hanging by a single, fragile thread.

"___? Hello?" You were immune to every condescending gesture or vernacular weaponized in Hollywood by now. Your makeup artist's snaps fell into the base of annoyance you had grown used to. "Did you hear me? You're all ready."

Her voice wasn't too abrasive. If anything, you should be the one apologizing for dazing in and out of consciousness. Though, Namjoon's sweet compliments about how beautiful you looked with your stage makeup should have been the one to acquire this remorse.

"Sorry. I'm, uh, tired. Not used to waking up at six in the morning quite yet."

"Well, get used to it, or you'll have a rough few months ahead of you." Her laugh had shed whatever shell of pretentiousness once veiled her previous impression. "I'm Nayeon, by the way. I've heard many great things about you, ___. Let's hope you live up to the hype."

Nayeon's nudge was friendly, and it comforted you that within the first day you hadn't pissed off the person who could easily turn your face clown-like with a few heavy strokes of her brush. She was beautiful, too. If she hadn't been dressed in a black T-shirt strewn with foundation and powder stains, then you would have mistaken her for an actress.

"Let's hope so... I guess the director was selling me better than myself." Your eyes scanned the area, though no one seemed a fitting candidate to be your lead. "So, who's the other lead?"

"Park Jimin. I'm surprised they didn't tell you yet. I guess it's some obscure, artistic director decision to keep you in the dark. I’m lowkey fangirling right now… But, don't tell anyone that." Before you could respond, let alone react, Nayeon had collected all the products she needed for her next subject and was about a yard away from you. "Good luck, rookie!"

Park Jimin. You've definitely heard of him, but it surprised you that someone like him accepted a role in a romantic, indie, coming of age film that had not the budget to pay half of what he usually made in his repertoire of previous movies. He was certainly what one would consider an 'A-list' celebrity. The type paparazzi actually cared to stalk, and fans recognized in public, but were too shy to approach due to his sheer intimidation. It hadn't eased your nerves that he was notoriously withdrawn when it came to the behind the scenes portion of shooting a movie.

And, like any decent person, you did your very best to refrain from placing judgments without the opportunity for them to fill in their own narrative. Most of what you ‘knew’ of Jimin had been hearsay. However, you had some hunch Jimin wouldn't qualify as one who labored tirelessly for the roles he had landed or authenticated any sort of compassion with his rising fame.

See, acting and snagging a big role in a movie was characterized as a tall building for you. If one reached the top floor, then they would assume a wealth of opportunities and Oscar nominations and acclimation. Of course, this film industrial structure had various modes of climbing to the top. Some had stairs which called for more excretion and effort but still, all you needed were persistent legs, then each step would eventually get you where you wanted to be.

You had more of a ladder. Each wrung was slanted at an angle of which only deepened your brawl with success and had not been sanded down enough to save you from a generous supply of splinters. After a while, your hands began to ache and the fear that some high-society type would kick the base of your ladder always stalked the forefront of your worries. It certainly had not been a choice means of arrival to whatever awaited you on that top floor, however it was the only one available.

And while you had a ladder to overcome, Jimin had an elevator. The most he'd ever expend to reach that coveted floor was a few presses of a button. And perhaps his only sacrifice would be sharing the elevator with one or two others. Things just worked out for people like him. And an elevator’s delivery was always in a manner that was quicker than the likes of a staircase or a ladder.

When he arrived on set, dragging himself like his own body was a weight he shouldn't have to carry himself, you fought that instinct of yours to assume everything you needed to know from him.

Just because he's wearing sunglasses inside doesn't mean he's some arrogant asshole, even if that is the most cliché character trait of one. This internal lecture was certainly of Namjoon's doing, since he was always one to never run out of allotting the benefit of the doubt.

Yeah, I guess. But, come on, he looks like a fucking idiot. You replied as if he were really there before walking up to the callous man with your gauntlet thrown down by default. No need getting on Jimin's bad side, because you were sure it's complement was being blacklisted from the film industry. Instead of sharp edges you offered him a non-threatening smile and handshake.

Play nice. Namjoon reminded you before you had the chance to decide what you wanted to say.

"Hi! It's such an honor to be working with you. I'm ___." Jimin looked at your hand like you had filled it with mud and were intending on smearing his Gucci jacket, which you assumed was worth more than your monthly apartment rent. "Um, wanna touch base before we start shooting or..."

If his admonished glare at your hand wasn't encouragement enough to retract it back into yourself, then what he said, or more fittingly, what he didn't say next was.

The way his sigh infused a scoff within it made you feel small. It felt like fire, how thoroughly it burned you into a pile of ash, but then it felt like a gust of prickled wind that would scatter your remains completely. If it had not been for the way his head shifted from your head to your toe, you wouldn't have known that his shielded eyes were trailing the length of your body. Such a glare seemed like a calculation of your worth; it must have totaled out to that of a fly he had to swat away because the second you stood on the outside of his peripheries you stopped existing in his world altogether.

His back made a longer impression on you than his eyes, and that was your que to huddle yourself in the corner and stick to the two things you were best at.

Imaginary conversations with Namjoon and rerunning through your already memorized lines.

Before you say anything, I already think he's a prick. It might be pathetic to have instigated theoretical conversations with your dead boyfriend, but the world wouldn't know he would have scolded you first for already constructing an agenda to avoid Park Jimin whenever you could. You just felt an itch to lay down the first word.

You never know, maybe he had a bad day.

Yeah, well people like him don't need to be professional unlike the rest of us. I mean, I'm on the verge of openly conversing with you and I'm the one that has to turn the other cheek? Your script was decorated with a number of wrinkles. Proof that your anger was sleeping from your insides in the form of tightly gripped hands that were pretending to pinch Jimin's skin instead of the script. For once, you felt some grain-sized semblance of luck for having a grasp of acting to pull off pretending to love Jimin.

"Hey." You weren't quite thrilled to meet the person you had imagined pushing down a staircase standing over you. Without his glasses, it was difficult to remember why you had been so angry with him and you hated that. His eyes consisted of more than just irises and pupils, though you would not have been able to place what exactly accompanied these features. They were just eyes, after all, parts of a body. Functional. Mechanical facets of being. And yet, his seemed more than that. More than just sense mechanics. Perhaps beauty. 

But for him to have been beautiful, it would have tainted the very idea of beauty.

"We're about to start shooting. Don't make this difficult, I'm trying to leave on time." 

"Okay... Sure." Those were the two words you substituted for the 'fuck you' itching to crawl from your throat.

"I'm Jimin, but you know that already." The way he spoke was punctuated as though it was a waste of his time to spend any attention on you. If you weren't already drained of your strength from that tube of toothpaste that was some sort of paraphernalia of the night Namjoon became an article of your past, then you would have rolled your eyes or retorted with something that would knock him down a peg.

"I do." Your own weak will bothered you more than Jimin. "Um, I-"

"Let's not." Though he had no idea what you were about to say, a part of you agreed to not even indulge in small talk with him. It would be too forced and uncomfortable and that might leak into your performance on camera. Still, he had an abrasive way of going about it that made you want to disagree with him just to be able to lie contrary to him.

"Fine." It rolled off your tongue easily, like silk. His lingering eyes had you wondering if you somehow impressed him with your passive agreement or insulted him for not groveling for his approval. Either one would have satisfied you.

"Alright! Looks like you two got acquainted. We're jumping right in." The director, Kim Seokjin, was chirpy. Even if this project wasn't necessarily mainstream or highly anticipated, he was the type to salvage all his passion and pour it into anything he created. It comforted you knowing someone other than you found this to be somewhat life changing. "Please, Jimin, ___, on your marks. This is the scene where you two meet, so we're hoping you two can infuse that feeling of being slightly awkward but nevertheless enthralled in each other's presence. Got it?"

"Yessir." You said, and Jimin only produced a nod which seemed generous for him. Fighting the urge to snarl or squeeze your brows together came as a difficulty you had to practice at.

"Slate! Quiet on set..." Seokjin’s voice filled the empty space of the entire studio.

"Scene one, take one." Just as the snap of the slate reverberated through the room, your eyes changed just as abruptly. Your gaze upon the set transformed it into your reality. You looked at Jimin and now saw Laurie, a young soul filled with enough dreams and kindness one could have mistaken him for a cloud; the kind that spoke in loving whispers and gentle caresses. He reminded you a lot of someone else you knew.

You tucked Namjoon's voice away with the rest of your grief and became Jordan.

Amazing things seemed to happen when you least expected them too. You guessed that was the nature of amazing things, for if you expected them then they probably wouldn’t feel so amazing. About halfway through the scene, after a number of cuts, re-shoots, directorial notes, you noticed something. Or more so, this something willed you to notice.

Once you fell into stride with your character, it became easier to pick up on the person acting opposite of you. Maybe you hadn't given Jimin enough credit before. You knew maybe was an understatement, though you felt a sting admitting talent had fallen into his hands just as all his accomplishments had.

Jimin's acting rested on the side most polar to your own. You replicated, he revolutionized. You became your character, shrinking yourself enough so that one wouldn't have been able to tell who you were beyond who you were playing. Jimin, however, made the character his own. There was no minimizing his own body to fit into the mold of the character. Jimin was the mold, and he sculpted the character to fit along himself. He forged his movements, voice, and confidence into whichever role he played and brought life to someone strewn with a signature of his own soul polishing said character. All the while, he was inventive with each intention and emotion that were strung into his lines.

It was difficult to pull this off, being that you could easily begin to just play yourself in a movie and neglect any character mannerisms that you were supposed to portray, however Jimin seems to slip in and out of his role with ease. And with each take, he peppered in more dimensions to a character. He gave meaning and depth to a person constructed onto a paper script until you couldn't believe this person didn't exist in real life.

That was the amazing thing that kept your well-rehearsed lines behind an impermeable wall of reluctant admiration.

What hadn't helped, though seemed to have been timed to a tee to unwind your sensibility, and timing had always worked against you like you had done wrong to it, was the part when Laurie was written to sneak his hand along your waist after Jordan stepped backwards into his body.

His palm felt so warm. So warm that the entire world felt too cold for you to be anywhere but apart from his touch. Then, all your lines spilled from your recollection. He was standing close behind you, the plush of his cheek tickling your ear and sending the entire world away so you and he could reserve this moment just for yourselves.

"Your line." His whisper wouldn't be picked up by the mic, though it had no trouble debilitating the rest of your senses. Did he intend for it to blur any sort of attraction his character felt for you into the life beyond the camera?

The director called cut to the scene, and it felt like a lifetime before you were released from the entrapping heat of Jimin's body. When you spun around, hoping you could at least dig through your throat to pull out a deflated apology, the smirk laced along his lips illustrated every bit of his arrogance and once again shut you up.

From the way his eyebrow was arched, you assumed he must have read your mind. He knew what he did to you, and it reminded you of everything you disliked about Jimin. Presumptuous, prideful in his taunts. It also reminded you that he stood many floors above you in this architectural competition of acting. You were grabbing hold of each wrung as you went, unprepared for something as disarming as Jimin. All he had to do was peer down at the sight of you to make you feel a hundred times lower than him. 

“___? What’s wrong?” You looked over to find Seokjin’s half worried, half irritated expression. 

“No, nothing. Sorry, I just blanked for a second.” Jimin’s snide chuckle at your confession to a faulty performance didn’t help simmer the burn of embarrassment.

"It’s okay, I get it.” The director offered a smile as a peace offering, and since he looked not seven years older than you, it had you assuming he was the laid-back type. “Let's take five. We'll block a few of the scenes and finish the rest of this and we'll call it a day."

You made your nest over at the snack bar. Shoving half of a donut into your mouth had almost resurged your energy. Nayeon made a swift return to pat your face with more powder.

"Hey, you're pretty damn good." You were stuck with a mouthful of donut to null any chance of responding. "Except for when you kinda just shut down at that last scene."

You would have felt embarrassed, or rather more embarrassed than you currently did, if it weren't for the light laugh that followed. All you had to reply with was a shrug.

"I mean, I don't blame you. Jimin's pretty hot and if I were cozying up to him during a scene I'm sure I would also fuck up my lines." Nayeon finished applying whatever touch ups she felt necessary, not without a suggestive eye arch. This either meant she was going to shuffle over to another actor in need of visual repair or she would stay and talk. Her continued monologue advocating for Jimin's talents and good looks proved the latter was what you had in store. "I mean, damn. Also, I'm pretty sure he's got abs under that shirt. So, are you into him? Is that it?”

"It's not like that." The harsh delivery gave an impression contrary to what you said. "I mean, I just... He's just really good at this. I guess I got kinda intimidated."

Normally, you would have sought Namjoon's voice ringing in your head about how you could do this, reminding you how he believed in you. It would have gotten you through the scene however, Jordan didn't know Joon.

"Well, he won an Oscar for a reason, babe." You finished the rest of your donut and begun a prowl for another savory comfort food. "I mean, damn, twenty-five and already winning Oscars and getting nominations. It ain't for nothing."

"Yes, this is helping so much, thank you." You twisted in sarcasm as if that would make you seem any less intimidated. Again, Nayeon laughed off any shroud of roughness coating your words.

"What, do you want me to lie? Is that how you want to start this friendship, with lies?" Her elbow nudged you, and that alone communicated more than the brief exchanges you two shared. Now, you had a friend. Someone else to talk with that wasn't a figment of your own imagination.

Look at you, already making friends. Your smile was not as hidden as you attempted for it to be. Namjoon's little encouragements had that effect on you.

"What's that smile for?"

"Oh, nothing." You scarfed down the mini muffin, turning towards Nayeon. "Just happy my makeup artist goes easy on the blush."

She winked, and you felt ready to be sent back into the throes of this film. You weren't keen on Jimin feeling closer to a competitor than a partner in this project, however if that is how he wanted it to be, you were never one to submit so easily. You were determined to level this playing field, and your communion with victory felt like a well-deserved birthright.

"Thought I told you I wanted to go home on time, rookie." You watched his lips shape such venomous words, since his eyes, the unnamed, nearly beautiful presence, might have sunk you back into that state of speechlessness.

"I take it you're not a method actor, since Laurie is so sweet and you're a fucking ass." It felt good for all of one second before a series of reprimands fueled by none other than Namjoon now had you on the brink of apologizing.

"Feisty, huh?" Again, his lips eased out sharp words as if they would not nick the plump skin as it went.

You hoped Joon had nothing to say about how you were now tracing the lush of Jimin's lips. And yes, it had been six months, though you knew your love-ridden heart had yet to free its hands from grabbing hold of Namjoon, still, the feeling of attraction, no matter how brisk it might have been, felt like you were committing adultery. Adultery, over someone who was dead. You weren't the one who left him behind, and at the same time, you never got that shiny patent of closure. There was no break-up, so perhaps that was an explanation as to why your heart was foolishly stuck in love, never realizing its oath to loyalty was graced upon the deceased. 

You thought of love now, while you were supposed to be getting into character. You thought of the one thing you once had held worn so easily, and now you had been chasing it knowing your legs weren’t enough to catch up.

There was a well in your eyes, supplied by the same source which fossilized a ragged lump in your throat. And you must have blinked twice as many times as you normally would since Jimin's eyebrows met halfway between his forehead as he watched you. Or, more disappointingly, he might have noticed your tendency to grow red in more places than just the whites of your eyes when you were about to cry. Holding those tears in hadn't helped with keeping your skin less flushed.

It frustrated you that he might have noticed, which only twisted you tighter into the verge of crying. You knew it was unlikely that his watchfulness of your pre-breakdown expression was due to a lapse of genuine concern. For all you knew, he was subtracting even more value from your worth, plummeting you into negative integers.

And if you weren't so dedicated to your craft, then you wouldn't have the ardor nor the ability to pull off acting like you loved him.

Nayeon is a good makeup artist, I think you have a thick enough cover of foundation and powder to hide it. That of course, along with any sliver of light in this dark tunnel, had always been attributed to Namjoon. He was the reason you kept going, the reason you had been able to get out of bed to drink a glass of water once in a while, the reason you did not completely break down every time a tube of toothpaste fell into your line of vision. Him and the memorialized voice was what chipped the lump free from your throat and dried your tears before they had the chance to spill.

"What-" Whatever motivated Jimin to ask you something had been gone almost immediately after it sprouted.

"Quiet on set!" There was no way you'd figure out what he was going to say if the director had mandated pre-shooting silence.

The rest of your day went accordingly. Nothing too devastating happened that cleared away the momentum of excitement of this being your first big role. Though, not that you weren't beyond grateful for this chance, you made a chore of reminding yourself to be aware of your good fortune.

And, with the help of a few well-placed improvisations that made you seem somewhat of a visionary in your craft, your previous mistake had been washed with water under the bridge in the director's eyes. It escalated your ego and confidence to watch Jimin scavenge for an unpracticed reaction to go along with the slight details or lines you infused into the scene. At a certain point, you could almost describe him as impressed with your acting. Maybe enough to bump your worth up a few decimals, not that that should be occupying your worries.

"Wow, ___! Look's like we hired the right thespian. Great work! By the looks of it, things will flow easier from here." The director, who you finally felt on a first name basis with, approached with a hug. Though, usually this would have sent red alerts, you could tell Seokjin had no ill intentions of the predatory type. "Also, you two have chemistry, but it's not quite there yet. I want this to be believable. There has to be some real life element of camaraderie if this story is going to be genuine."

"So, what exactly are you asking of us?" Jimin, of course, sounded all but thrilled with whatever Seokjin was suggesting even when it hadn't been specified yet. And though you hadn't expressed it outwardly, this aversion for what Seokjin has been suggesting was shared.

"I don't know, get to know each other? Method acting works usually. I mean, Jared Leto did it for that movie and he seemed pretty crazy." The attention was never yours to claim once Jimin had already pressed his phone to his ear and Seokjin was off reevaluating the shots taken today.

You were alone again. Surrounded by an entire crew and cast, but alone nonetheless. Your version of escapism was never as consistent as you needed it to be. All it took was a moment of stillness for you to drift into some place much darker than your current reality. Jordan was sealed away for now, and you were trapped in your own body. It felt horrible. Being you without the man who loved and cared for such a kindred soul felt no different than writhing in pain. Being you without him was empty. Before long, you might have fallen faint in front of your coworkers.

The only target you could acquire as of now was Jimin, taken away from the world for reasons much less burdensome than your own. Where you had a plight of grief to sift through, Jimin had a phone and most likely a supply of friends to text and busy himself with. Seokjin wanted you to get to know him, try your hand at method acting so to speak, and that was the excuse which allowed you to walk over and try to kindle some sort of conversation.

"Hey, so, uh..." The pause came to no avail, since it seemed as though you could have said nothing at all judging from his reaction. "Hey."

It took a fictitious clearing of your throat and three more seconds of unwavering silence to lure his eyes from his phone.

"What?"

As it had been for this entire day, everything involving Jimin was made to be some sort of challenge. A feat you had to overcome without an ounce of reprieve, just to remain standing.

"Seokjin said we should, like, get to know each other. Or, at least get along. I think that's a good idea." His eyes gave absolutely no clues to anything below the exterior of an expressionless face.

"Why are you trying so hard?" You waited for him to laugh, or even for a laugh of your own to slip and loosen the tension. A laugh to make what he just said a joke, victimless banter, because it would have been wildly insulting if that were the most genuine thing he had said to you all day.

"What the hell does that mean?" Your arms were crossed as if that would keep your heart safe from his cruel tactlessness.

"I'm not taking this shit seriously." He laughed, but it wasn't the one that you wanted previously. It sunk wounds deeper, with such a dull edge too. "It's just a side job so people think I'm humble, or whatever my manager said."

The puzzle began to piece together, it took this admittance from Jimin for the picture to emerge from ambiguity. This movie was some form of damage control for his reputation, and that might be because your accurately placed criticisms of his lackluster humbleness did not stand solitarily. Your big break had been reduced to a convenient plot of image reconstruction. You were familiar with anger, it was one of your trickier stages of grief to surmount, but it still affected you to the same degree as before.

He didn't expect a response. You could gather that much from the way he instantly turned back to his phone, rendering you nonexistent once again. Namjoon would have told you to remain civil. But Namjoon was gone. It hurt to think that way, but if his voice hadn't emerged to mitigate this situation now, then Jimin was yours for the taking.

"You're a fucking ass." It seems brash was the only approach to seize immediate attention from Jimin. His eyes widened as if you had grown twice as large and the vision of you wouldn't fit in his narrowed, judgmental glare. "This may be a joke or a throw away gig for you, but this means a lot to me."

"Wanna back off, Jesus. I only-"

"No, I don't wanna back off. I haven't had the best year, and having a co-star that treats me like shit isn't really helping either. And, I get it, you're some sort of elitist who thinks they earned their success." You scoffed, tethering his eyes with yours as though there were a string tying them together. And with each step closer you took, the knot only secured tighter. "But people like you, men like you, don't do shit to earn where they are. But it's so cute the way you think you did! Truly, it's embarrassing watching you flaunt your ego around like you actually have something to be proud of."

"So it's like that, huh? You know, I was almost starting to respect you." The fact that his delivery suggested this was some sort of badge of honor made him all the more pathetic. You should not have put it past Jimin to boast over paying a fundamental level of respect where it's due.

"Wow," You doused a generous layer of sarcasm over your throat so the words came out so. "Basic human decency? From you? How can I ever repay you for such kindness?”

"I said almost."

"You're pathetic."

"Like you're one to talk."

"Yeah, well at least I don't pretend I'm hot shit." The tip of your shoes finally closed the gap between his. Again, you were snared in his warmth, however it didn't feel as tranquil as before. Now, it was closer to a pot of boiling water, evaporating flesh and bone until you were steam floating along the air, bendable and displayed out thinly.

"You don't pretend because you're just that bad of an actor, huh?"

It suffocated you, being this close with him; the blurry details of his face became sharp this way. His eyes were hypnotically watchful of your lips, preparing for your next gambit. You surrendered only a smirk, hoping it would antagonize him. And you could have sworn standing at the furthest point of the Earth from Jimin wouldn't appease this invasive thronging. The universe had yet to expand wide enough to provide an acceptable distance away from him. Until then, you were left with shallow bouts of breath tasting of metallic hatred, hoping those would alchemize into words that would make you seem more intimidating that you really were.

"Please, I could act circles around you. Your performance is transparent. Anyone with a scope of the basics of acting could see through you."

"Is that so?" You hated how quick you had been to notice his tongue slip along his lower lip. He must have found this delicious, patronizing someone who only had 'friend number five' or 'cashier' as proof of their employment. Jimin was greedy, devouring all the blood spilled from his wounding retorts.

In some perverse way, being the focus of his attention had you feeling fulfilled. Jimin, the man commonly sought after among the demographic of teenagers and middle-aged women. Not only were you proving your merits of qualification to act alongside him, but you had something to prove to yourself. You weren't going to let Jimin push you around without pushing him right back. You were strong enough to fight. It seemed to have come natural to you to enjoy provoking anger in him. It felt as if you were finally accomplishing something that was unattainable to anyone else. 

And even if you wanted to retreat, his gaze guaranteed your obedience. It was a battle, along with every other exchange you have had with him. Even when silence was the only parcel between you two, when the only semblance of noise was heavy, jaded inhales, it felt as though you and he were at wits to gather more air than the other. To see who would fall breathless first.

"You're pathetic." His words hit like physical blows, and you might have had to check for bruises along your ribs and torso from the churning sensation in your stomach.

"If I'm pathetic, I don't know what that makes you." You wanted your rebuttal to feel like fire. You wanted to scorch and sear blisters along his flawless skin for proof of any successful hit. “A privileged boy with enough of daddy’s money to get him any job he wants. But, I’m the pathetic one?”

He appeared unscathed, with one end of his lips rugged upwards, mocking you without needing any of the words to do so. Perhaps he'd gotten the best of you, as you were searching through your arsenal of refutes only to find it overspent. It would not have surprised you to discover his supply of acidic insults piling without a visible dent. 

His eyes looked fully employed in studying you, and you felt disrobed to be under such scrutiny from a stranger. Jimin seemed to have been reading you like words on a page, armed with a twisted smile that was unnervingly addictive, but you tried your hardest to keep your book closed. You didn’t want him to know how weak you really were.

"God, you're so-"

"Oh, great! Both of you are still here." Seokjin's voice reminded you that there was a world of events beyond you and Jimin. For a moment, you had felt secluded into a universe constructed especially for any collateral destruction that might have come of whatever war was about to be waged. "I have some notes for you two. Go home, read, digest, and come prepared tomorrow! I have full confidence in the two of you."

"Thanks." Succinct yet not lacking any tonal sentiment, Jimin got the first word in with the director, leaving you scrambling to find yours.

"Thank you." You were frustrated in how recycled your responses felt after Jimin handled them. Actors like you always fed on scraps of the higher-ups, and they were never as appetizing or filling as you would hope.

"See ya, ___." Your name sounded awful on his tongue, like his voice had filtered out the good parts of it and the waste remained spilling from his lips. Like dirt or decayed flesh, or both, and saying your name was akin to saying a slur.

"Fuck you." Those words couldn't sift through your screwed jaw or muffled throat, but it gave you satisfaction that it had been said in the slightest.

It wasn't until you were halfway to the bus stop that the realization pummeled you down a hole you hadn’t recollected being dredged. That whole time, what might have been the product of a mere ten minutes, was the longest segment you had gone without thinking of him.

It was the most intimately you had ever engaged in a conversation with someone other than the late, imagined voice in your head. And it was the most you've gone without consulting with said voice before speaking. You simply spoke, and listened, and responded; like you were normal. You couldn't tell whether that was good, because maybe you would finally be able to move forward with the world, perhaps catch up with the life you were supposed to be living. But, at the same time, the guilt festering something acrid in the pit of your stomach had you convinced this wasn't entirely sunny skies and bright futures.

"I'm sorry." What frightened you, besides your mental slip to keep the words meant for Namjoon in your head, was the unreturned sound of his ringing through. It took the longest ten seconds of your life for the mental silence to be furtively trimmed by your own train of thoughts.

Jimin had done this to you, that you were entirely sure of. Jimin and his carnivorous tongue and greedy glare had drained your head of its second conscious. The one it had adopted when Namjoon's body could no longer harbor it. And that's how he lived on, through you.

Jimin took that away, somehow. You could almost kill him for it, but you had not favored a life in prison nor tabloids that headlined the Park Jimin being murdered or 'Crazy, Jealous Co-star On Murderous Rampage Targets Jimin'. So, for the time being, all that was accessible was quiet hatred.

And you took that over nothing. You hated Park Jimin.

[nextwarden]

Webtoons are good for the soul PART II - ECLECTIC BOOGALOO

A continuation of this.

Sea Salt and Sand by neggut [ongoing]

In the autumn holidays 3 months ago, Brynn and Bailey shared a kiss. When Bailey left, Brynn tried to forget all about her and continue living an unremarkable life, only for Bailey to suddenly transfer to her school! What follows is a coming of age story full of pining, misunderstandings and confusion as Brynn and Bailey question the true nature of their relationship. 

It’s cute and a bit angsty but not too much. The art style often feels incomplete or rushed but in a good way, its flaws give character to the characters and the story. One of my all time favourites.

Apathy meets labrador/10

Dragonbourne by Gummy Shark [ongoing]

After a troubled past, Sir Ross Edmund Avery is somewhat content to lead a mundane existence, alone in his house. However, when he stumbles upon a child in the woods on Solstice Night who is anything but mundane, his simple life will be turned upside down.

A scar(r)ed man adopts a feral child, hijinks ensue. Once again, the art style is endearing, full of curves and long lines. Haven’t checked on that one in a while but the first twenty chapters were very promising.

Found family/10

The Last Human by Zack Jordan [ongoing]

She's the galaxy's worst nightmare: a Human. Fortunately, she's the last one. Now her adoptive (alien) mother is realizing that raising a young Human is no easy task.

Basically the badass and child duo trope but the truth may surprise you. Fun, cute, very wholesome, and surprisingly emotionnaly philosophical at times. Spidermom is best mom.

Recommend/10

Vampire Husband by Scragony [ongoing]

The life of Charles the Vampire an Cheryl the human after years of marriage.

What if tragic romance between human and vampire but they had their “happy-ever-after”? This is after. It’s funny and cute.

Relationship goals/10

Blood Stain by sigeel [ongoing]

A story about courage, growing up and finding friendships in most unlikely places... spiced with some MAD SCIENCE! 

Haven’t quite wrapped my head around this one yet, but it’s fun and drawn by sigeel (a.k.a. Linda Sejic) so of course it’s beautiful. Enjoyed it a lot, will have to keep reading.

Bloody merry/10

Punderworld by sigeel [ongoing - on hiatus]

Hades' and Persephone's love-struck misadventures.

Another take on Hades and Persephone’s love story. Once again, sigeel, so of course I love the art.

Bumbling idiots/10

The Queen and the Woodborn by Shiniez [ongoing]

Far away behind seven hills and seven forests, seven fields and seven rivers, there lived a Queen... welcome to the queen and the woodborn. a fairy tale romance for the mature readers about the unseen Queen and the Goddess in the woods. a tale of the two forgotten by the world around them who will make the world remember their names. expect gods and monsters and a romance for the ages.

Not many chapters yet but very long ones to compensate. This one is by Shiniez (a.k.a. Stjepan Sejic) so, once again, love the art. The story, the character designs and concepts, and the pace are all amazing.

Very wow/10

P.E.T.S. by Gyxks [ongoing]

Just when Tasha was about to start a new life, she was abducted by aliens. Fortunately, she and other humans were rescued by an interstellar general named Tourmaline. She soon discovered that her body was unfit to return home without endangering life on earth. Join her on her journey traversing this new world and these new feelings for an alien general. 

POV: You’re living your best life as a young adult, at the shopping mall at 2am in your pyjamas, when suddenly death aliens rain pain all around and you’re abducted only to be saved by tall buff alien commander lady. Romance ensues. Maybe, it’s slow burn but quite enjoyable to read.

Blush/10

Scoob and Shag by Misterie Krew [ongoing]

Scoob and his best pal Shag are up to their usual hi-jinks, but everything is not as it seems in their latest adventure. 

No relations to any character whatsoever. None. None at all. Also no relations to any kind of sense at all either. Can’t quite explain that one except that it’s genius. Just read it.

Is that a gun?/10

Bewitched by peachyytown [ongoing]

The witch who keeps "kidnapping" the princess is actually her girlfriend and they're just going on dates.

Short but cute alternative take on all that witch/monster/princess shenanigans. In the same vein as Our days in Lumain. Also the art is very nice.

Meetcute/10

When the Pink Trees Bear Fruit by neggut [completed]

A sweet love blooms between two women on an orchard in 1973.

A short story, five chapters only, but play devastatingly well with one’s heart. In the same vein as It Stems From Love by Soya S. Holm. neggut ist sehr gut.

Tears/10

Rooftops & Roommates by Zaanart [ongoing]

Jeb is an architecture major at university, rooming with his best friend Todd. There's just one problem... Jeb’s secretly a gargoyle! Between studying, partying, and a bad ghost problem, will Jeb be able to keep his true identity a secret?

Jeb is sweet, Jeb is fresh, but Jeb is decidedly not very good at keeping a secret. It’s funny, slice-of-life, roommate college shenanigans at its finest. With a magical twist.

Ship/10

Everything is Fine by Mike Birchall [ongoing]

Sam and Maggie are a normal couple, in a normal house, in a normal neighborhood. There is nothing strange about their heads, their neighbors or their sweet little dog. Everything is Fine.

I haven’t actually started this one yet, but the premise is very very very interesting. Perhaps not for thos who are faint of heart? Deceptively cute. Or is it?

It’s fine/10

Castle Swimmer by Wendy Lian Martin [ongoing]

What happens when your entire life is ruled by a prophecy – your future foretold by people you’ve never met, who died long before you were born.  Such is the story of two young sea creatures.  One believed to be a guiding light for his people, a Beacon who will lead them to a bright, prosperous future.  The other is a teenage prince for who’s destiny is to KILL the Beacon so that HIS own people might thrive.  When both reject the course set for them, it leads to a raucous adventure as big and unpredictable as the ocean itself – and a romance that nobody could have predicted.

It’s fish. It’s gay. It’s under da sea and ya gotta kiss the boy. I haven’t read it all yet but enough to vouch for it and to have some vested interest in the universe and its lore.

Enemies to lovers/10

Demon Highschool by Kiiyoko [ongoing]

After a compromise it was agreed that criminals would attend a "demons highschool" where they would work as slaves for demons And while it was all in good favor, things take a very dark and twisted turn at said, highschool.

There’s something, some kind of twist, about the MC which I haven’t gotten to yet, and which I am very interested to discover. I’m not quite sure how I feel about this one as of now, mostly curious I’d say.

Pet/10

Hooky by Miriam Bonastre Tur [completed]

Dani and Dorian have missed the bus of the school of magic. Now, they must find someone who teach them how to be a great and good witches... Or maybe not.​ 

This one is a strange one about witchery and family. Surprisingly deep and serious at times, very enjoyable. Unfinished on Webtoon but a good start to get into the story.

Siblings/10

Loving Reaper by Jenny Jinya [ongoing]

Animals struggle. Pets and Wildlife alike. The reaper cares for their stories and helps them with the crossover. Short stories about the "Loving Reaper" to raise awareness and collect funds. Breaking hearts for a good cause.

Beautiful bittersweet stories about animals, pets, life and death and love.

Tissues/10

Batman: Wayne Family Adventures by StarBite, CRC Payne, Kielamel Siba, Lan Ma, C.M. Cameron, and Camille Cruz [ongoing]

Batman needs a break. But with new vigilante Duke Thomas moving into Wayne Manor and an endless supply of adopted, fostered, and biological superhero children to manage, Bruce Wayne is going to have his hands full. Being a father can't be harder than being Batman, right? 

What if Bat-family but happy? Official comic, barely started, very fun.

Wholesome/10

The First Night With the Duke by MSG, Taeva, from an original work by Hwang DoTol [ongoing]

A handsome, selfish noble falls for a beautiful, kind commoner -- at least, that’s how the story’s supposed to go. When an average college student wakes up as Ripley, an extra in her favorite romance novel, she resolves to enjoy the luxuries of her character’s status while watching the novel's plot unfold from the sidelines. However, her plans are soon derailed when she finds herself in bed with no other than Duke Zeronis, the novel’s hero! Dodging the villainess’ schemes, the Duke’s advances, and her own feelings, can Ripley keep the story on track and survive beyond the first night? 

Haven’t read that one but a very dear (and respectable) friend (*cough*  @berigolote​  *cough*) of mine keeps pestering me to give it a try. So here it is, try it.

Do it before me and you get a cookie/10

HEART Anthology by Marvin.W, caw-chan and many other artists. [ongoing]

Featuring stories from the 2020 Short Story Contest!  From wholesome stories to tearjerkers, are you ready to catch these feelings?

A collection of beautiful stories on the shorter side, all about the many kinds of love in life, the many beauties of it, and the pains that make it worth living.

Tears that warm the heart/10

In My Heart by Redfield42 [ongong]

Sasaki Mari is a typical delinquent troublemaker whose only goal is to get a boyfriend, but due to her reputation as bully and low grades, all the boys reject her. Then she decides to change her style, and asks for help from the student with the best grades in the class.

It starts off light and fund and progressively seems to delve a little bit more into the seriousness of life. Not a tragedy, however, and very much worth a read still.

I think I have a trope I like/10

My awkward princess by LazyArts [ongoing]

This love story is about a girl named Luna charlotte, and the student council president Alice Evelyn. Luna is a delinquent whom often gets in trouble, as Luna reaches the end of the line she almost gets expelled, now luna has to become a model student with the help of Alice. Will Luna be expelled or will she succeed, read to find out.

Along the lines of Not So Shoujo Love Story, In My Heart, and Susuhara is a Demon. Delinquent/Good Student meetcute, romantinc hijincks ensue.

Seduction/10

RAINBOW! by Rue & Sunny Gloom [ongoing]

This is the story of a girl named Boo. She has pink hair and a vivid imagination and she is about to discover a side of herself that she never considered before. 

Okay, so yes, this one is also also a delinquent meets cute nice girl, but - BUT! - there’s an element of story telling that I love about it: the way we see Boo’s anxiety incorporated visually into the story. Just for that it is one of my favourite recent discoveries!

Protecc/10

-----------------------

Okay, that’s all for part II. Hope you enjoy those as much as I do. Thanks for your attention, sorry for the length and, please, do keep on reading, they all deserve it! As do you.

PART I

[aion-rsa]

Zack Snyder’s Original Vision for Justice League Faded Long Before His Exit

https://ift.tt/3buaKS6

As Zack Snyder’s Justice League prepares to showcase the director’s true vision of the 2017 film long-sought by a vocal segment of the fandom, behind-the-scenes details have emerged about the director’s exit from the theatrical film, providing interesting context to its upcoming debut as an HBO Max miniseries. It seems that the official—devastatingly heartbreaking—explanation for Snyder’s departure from the film actually overshadowed some behind-the-scenes strife.

Picture this for a Justice League plotline: Bruce Wayne (Ben Affleck) falls in love with a recently widowed Lois Lane (Amy Adams). While the notion of a Batman/Lois Lane romance is not entirely unheard of in the annals of DC Comics, it might seem awkward for a film franchise that was still taking its first steps. Nevertheless, this was a major angle that Snyder intended to inject into the film, as revealed in a lengthy Vanity Fair exposé. Of course, the romance, which would have directly followed the events of Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, obviously didn’t make the film, and—barring some secretly-shot scenes for the Snyder Cut—it is unlikely to ever happen. However, it was apparently typical of the now-revealed clashes that Snyder had with Warner Bros. in the lead-up to his 2017 exit.

“The intention was that Bruce fell in love with Lois and then realized that the only way to save the world was to bring Superman back to life,” Snyder explains of the idea that Warner nixed. “So, he had this insane conflict, because Lois, of course, was still in love with Superman. We had this beautiful speech where [Bruce] said to Alfred: ‘I never had a life outside the cave. I never imagined a world for me beyond this. But this woman makes me think that if I can get this group of gods together, then my job is done. I can quit. I can stop.’ And, of course, that doesn’t work out for him.”

Backtracking a bit, Snyder—having come off hits like Dawn of the Dead, 300 and Watchmen—was auspiciously tapped to shepherd Warner’s wider aspirations for DC Comics films starting with 2013’s Man of Steel, which debuted Henry Cavill’s impressive iteration of the Blue Bomber. However, the film was a winding rollercoaster of dark drama that stood in stark contrast to the Marvel Comics movies against which it was designed to compete. Thusly, it banked $668 million worldwide—by no means a flop, but well short of Warner’s expectations, especially against the film’s $225 million budget. Regardless, the studio gave Snyder a mulligan and allowed his vision to further manifest mostly unfettered with 2016’s Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, which introduced Ben Affleck’s Batman, Gal Gadot’s Wonder Woman, Ray Fisher’s Cyborg and—in a bizarre, context-deprived cameo—Ezra Miller’s The Flash.

Dawn of Justice would go on to gross $873.6 million worldwide—once again, not a flop, but nevertheless disappointing for Warner, who had maintained faith and even upped the budget for Snyder’s sophomore DCEU effort to $250 million. “When Batman v Superman came out and we did get a negative reaction from the fans, it was disheartening for all of us,” laments production head Greg Silverman. “Zack had made these movies, like 300, that were such crowd-pleasers. And that was our job—to make crowd-pleasers. And here, we have made a movie together, and it didn’t really please the audience.”

Read more

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Martian Manhunter in Zack Snyder’s Justice League Details and Look Revealed

By Mike Cecchini

Indeed, Batman v Superman was not generally regarded as a crowd-pleaser, and was instead widely lambasted by both critics and audiences alike, manifesting as a marathon of moroseness passing for poignancy, showcasing a titular conflict between the two heroes held together by flimsy load-bearing motivations, weighed down further with unexplained Justice League-foreshadowing scenes (notably the aforementioned Flash cameo and the “Knightmare” sequence,) referencing an imminent invasion from planet Apokolips. More importantly, it didn’t create the watershed cultural moment that Warner needed to effectively whet audience appetites for the Justice League team-up, which was clearly its main purpose. Thus, while Marvel continued to bask in billions with likeable icons—and even made icons of non-mainstream titles like Guardians of the Galaxy—Warner was stuck with DC movies permeating with unrelatable angry gods who hate each other.

Consequently, while the studio soured on Snyder by the time production for Justice League had commenced, there was an unfortunate fatalism, since the die had been cast on where the story was headed. After all, Snyder came into the film with a vision that was far too lofty even for a director who was still in the studio’s good graces, much less one perceived as having led it down the primrose path. Further tinder for this proverbial fire was scattered with a top-down edict from Warner chairman and CEO Kevin Tsujihara, who mandated that the picture would be only two hours in length, and that DC Entertainment creative chief Geoff Johns and Warner Bros. co-production head Jon Berg were to be on-set every day to, as Snyder puts it, “babysit” him.

“It was really tricky and not a position that I loved, to be honest,” Berg says. “I tried to be forthright about what I thought creatively. My job was to try to mediate between a creator whose vision is instinctually dark and a studio that perceived, rightly or wrong, that the fans wanted something lighter. I was respectful of the director and didn’t pursue things that were coming at me from the corporate side that I thought weren’t in line with what would make the best movie.”

Snyder maintains that having Johns and Berg watching over his shoulder didn’t bother him, and that “they weren’t that threatening.” Yet, they constantly pressed him to inject humor into his otherwise-serious content. “It wasn’t anything that was too outrageous,” says Snyder, but it nevertheless created a contradiction, especially as the ambitious designs Snyder teased in Dawn of Justice—many of which sidetracked that film—were being systematically erased. Thus, Justice League seemed to be a tug-of-war production, as Snyder moved ahead with his vision, only to see concepts nixed outright (like the Batman/Lois romance,) and even lose produced ideas like the spinoff-teasing romantic subplot between Ezra Miller’s Flash and Kiersey Clemons’s Iris West (the latter of whom was cut from the film altogether,) and a proposed return of Harry Lennix’s Man of Steel character, General Swanwick, who was to be revealed as a disguised J’onn J’onzz/Martian Manhunter; concepts that, for those in the know, represented the intended heart of the film.

The laborious process continued even after Snyder and wife Deborah (who serves as a producer,) were dealing with the passing of their daughter. Yet, Snyder officially exited Justice League in May 2017—two months after the tragedy, which was initially cited as the primary reason. “It’s such a lightning strike in the center of this whole saga,” says Snyder. “And in a lot of ways it has informed everything we’ve done since.” However, it was clear that the escalating acrimony between Snyder and Warner Bros. was the heretofore unspoken other reason behind the split, after which the studio tapped Joss Whedon—fresh from his own acrimonious exit from Marvel Studios—to pinch-direct the picture and have it ready for theaters by November. Of course, as Ray Fisher, and an increasing number of personnel now allege, that tenure led to a different—inherently toxic—problem.  

Regardless of where one stands on the perpetually polarizing topic of Zack Snyder, his exit from the ambitious crossover film was undeniably one of the saddest stories to hit the industry in quite some time. However, its tragic aspect turned out to be the emotionally heavy straw that broke the back of Snyder’s rapidly weakening relationship with studio Warner Bros. Thus, with most of those studio restraints now shed, it makes the upcoming arrival of the labor of love that is the “Snyder Cut” even more intriguing.

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Zack Snyder’s Justice League hits HBO Max on Thursday, March 18.

The post Zack Snyder’s Original Vision for Justice League Faded Long Before His Exit appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[astreathewitch]

The Virgin and the Dragon

In Episode 4 of the last season of Game of Thrones, Rhaegal, one of Daenerys’ two surviving dragons, is shot dead by three piercing bolts. The death blow is delivered by a bolt that punctures Rhaegal’s neck from side to side, and a splash of blood pours from the beast’s mouth as he falls tragically from the sky into the sea below. This beautiful and terrible scene struck me as strangely familiar, as if I had already seen it many times before. Something about the imagery of slain dragons is rooted in our collective mind, and awakes memories of ancient tales we thought we had forgotten. But this scene reminded me of something in particular.

Since I first saw it, as a kid, on the cover of some book, I was always hypnotized by Paolo Uccello’s painting of St. George and the Dragon. The magic of this image resides in the details: the circles decorating the Dragon’s wings like those of a moth; the blood dripping from the neck of the wounded beast; its glossy, sorrowful eye; the thin spear of the knight and the even thinner leash that binds the surprisingly peaceful lady to the dying monster. There is something enigmatic, if not just plain confusing, about it: what is the relationship between the lady and the dragon? Why does the dragon have to die? After all, the same questions could be asked about Daenerys and her children. We may find some answers by interpreting Paolo Uccello’s painting – and, possibly, GoT’s last season as well – as an alchemical key.

Dragons have a long iconographical history in hermeticism and alchemy. A few associations that easily come to mind are the Ouroboros, where the serpent or dragon is connected to the idea of eternity and cyclical time, and the alchemical salamander, a mysterious being that can withstand fire without ever burning. This multiple association is not surprising, since often in alchemical texts images and words have multiple meanings. It is the case of Mercury, which is frequently referred to as being double: it indicates the universal solvent, or poison, needed to begin the alchemical Opus, but, in many cases, it is also used as another name for philosophical Gold, the universal medicine or Elixir, which is the coronation of the alchemist’s work. This lexical ambiguity is, in itself, a caveat on the deadly danger of undertaking the alchemical Work; the same substance that could grant eternal life has the potential to manifest itself as devastatingly poisonous.

The same kind of ambiguity surrounds the image of the Dragon; it is both depicted as the ultimate natural power, containing in itself the four elements and being able to grant complete control over matter and time, and as a deadly monster that needs to be slain so that the Work may be completed. Dragon’s blood is mentioned in the Rosarium Philosophorum as the fluid that can dissolve all matter, and, in this regard, is also identified with the first, poisonous kind of Mercury:

“Note this that no silver can be made unless first they be all dissolved. Secondly, that no solution ought to be made but in the proper and appropriated blood, that is, in water of Mercury which is called Dragon’s Water.”

Rosarium Philosophorum

The same association returns later in the text, clearly indicating the necessity of the death of the Dragon so that the Work may be completed:

“[T]he Dragon is born in his blackness and is fed with his Mercury, and killeth himself and is drowned in it, and the water is somewhat whitened, and that is Elixir.”

Rosarium Philosophorum

In this respect, the Dragon represents some kind of primordial matter, imbued with properties of dissolution and disaggregation, that can be unleashed and made available to the alchemist through a ritual sacrifice. This dismemberment is mythologically recurring, as we have noted elsewhere, and it often coincides with the cosmological beginning of order, reason and civilization.

Dragons are, in our minds, associated with fairy tales of young damsels in distress, that are abducted by a monstrous creature and are kept segregated from society until a knight comes along and brings them back into the world of men. This is, on a surface level, the story behind the scene depicted in Paolo Uccello’s painting. But, in alchemical symbolism, the relationship between dragon and woman appears more complex and elusive. In alchemical texts, the virginal quality of Mercury is often mentioned, and the same substance that is referred to as dragon’s blood is also indicated as virgin’s milk. These two aspects of Mercury, that of the virgin and that of the dragon, seem to fade seamlessly into one another. Are the virgin and the dragon one and the same? Yes and no. It seems that womanhood is intended as a transformative power that can bind the primitive, chaotic potential of the dragon into a productive cycle of forces. In a cryptic passage from the Turba Philosophorum, woman and dragon are buried together, so that they may merge and produce the philosophical venom required to begin the Magnum Opus:

“I also make known to you that the dragon never dies, but the Philosophers have put to death the woman who slays her spouses. For the belly of that woman is full of weapons and venom. Let, therefore, a sepulchre be dug for the dragon, and let that woman be buried with him, who being strongly joined with that woman, the more he clasps her and is entwined with her, the more his body, by the creation of female weapons in the body of the woman, is cut up into parts. For perceiving him mixed with the limbs of a woman he becomes secure from death, and the whole is turned into blood.”

Turba Philosophorum

Of course, a deep, troubling connection between dragon-like creatures and holy virgins recurs in christian iconography. One of the most commonly reproduced images of the Madonna shows her radiating in the sky as she steps over a snake, echoing the Apocalyptic virgin and the seven-headed dragon from the Book of Revelation. While we could understand this symbology as a representation of the Holy Virgin triumphing over evil, some authors, namely Peter Grey in his Apocalyptic Witchcraft, have argued that the conflict between the Virgin and the Serpent consists in a false dualism, and that their mysterious alliance is the key to access the alchemical universal medicine. Similarly, Eliphas Levi underlines the role of the Virgin in directing the blind forces contained in the original serpent:

“She who is destined to crush the serpent’s head is intelligence, which ever rises above the stream of blind forces. The Kabalists call her the virgin of the sea, whose dripping feet the infernal dragon crawls forward to lick with his fiery tongues, and they fall asleep in delight.”

Eliphas Levi, The Doctrine of Transcendental Magic

But this alliance, while it can result in a productive polarization of forces, clearly constitutes a deadly danger to civilization if not accurately balanced, as the tension between pious, fertile womanhood and destructive, sterile monstrosity is always unstable. Quoting Nyx, “[t]he path of heterodoxy and disintegration into infinitely many individuated particles begins with woman, Binah. This paradoxically makes it not merely that the weak Eve was tempted by the evil Serpent, but rather that the origins of Evil lie in Eve. Or rather, in woman”. The awareness of this danger is intrinsic in alchemical symbolysm, where the productive nigredo or putrefaction of the ancient dragon, activated by the catalyzing power of womanhood, can set off the unstoppable disintegration of all matter into fire and blood.

Daenerys’ arc in Season 8 can then be intended as an alchemical experiment gone terribly wrong. The Dragon Queen’s destructive madness is a testimony to the dangers of the Great Work; her ultimate sacrifice is the only way to save the world from devastation, and to guarantee the reproduction of civilization so that the wheel can keep on turning. Just like in the ancient tales of damsels and dragons, in the end the monster is slain, subversive femininity is aborted and patriarchal order is restored. If we wish for a different ending to this story, then, we need to experiment with a different kind of alchemy.

“In everything In nature there are three from two: the beginning, the middle, and the end. First the needful water, then the oily tincture, and lastly, the faeces, or earth, which remains below. But the Dragon inhabits in all these, and his houses are the darkness and blackness that is in them.”

The Golden Tractate of Hermes Trismegistus

Originally posted at https://thenanim.home.blog/2019/05/22/the-virgin-and-the-dragon/

[kelvinerazo7]

10 Interesting Novels

Lord of the Flies (William Golding) At the dawn of the next world war, a plane crashes on an uncharted island, stranding a group of schoolboys. At first, with no adult supervision, their freedom is something to celebrate; this far from civilization the boys can do anything they want. Anything. They attempt to forge their own society, failing, however, in the face of terror, sin and evil. And as order collapses, as strange howls echo in the night, as terror begins its reign, the hope of adventure seems as far from reality as the hope of being rescued. Labeled a parable, an allegory, a myth, a morality tale, a parody, a political treatise, even a vision of the apocalypse, Lord of the Flies is perhaps our most memorable novel about “the end of innocence, the darkness of man’s heart.”  (goodreads.com)

1984 (George Orwell) Among the seminal texts of the 20th century, Nineteen Eighty-Four is a rare work that grows more haunting as its futuristic purgatory becomes more real. Published in 1949, the book offers political satirist George Orwell's nightmarish vision of a totalitarian, bureaucratic world and one poor stiff's attempt to find individuality. The brilliance of the novel is Orwell's prescience of modern life—the ubiquity of television, the distortion of the language—and his ability to construct such a thorough version of hell. Required reading for students since it was published, it ranks among the most terrifying novels ever written.  (goodreads.com)

Animal Farm (George Orwell) A farm is taken over by its overworked, mistreated animals. With flaming idealism and stirring slogans, they set out to create a paradise of progress, justice, and equality. Thus the stage is set for one of the most telling satiric fables ever penned –a razor-edged fairy tale for grown-ups that records the evolution from revolution against tyranny to a totalitarianism just as terrible. When Animal Farm was first published, Stalinist Russia was seen as its target. Today it is devastatingly clear that wherever and whenever freedom is attacked, under whatever banner, the cutting clarity and savage comedy of George Orwell’s masterpiece have a meaning and message still ferociously fresh.  (goodreads.com)

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (J.K. Rowling, Mary GrandPré (Illustrator)) Harry Potter's life is miserable. His parents are dead and he's stuck with his heartless relatives, who force him to live in a tiny closet under the stairs. But his fortune changes when he receives a letter that tells him the truth about himself: he's a wizard. A mysterious visitor rescues him from his relatives and takes him to his new home, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. After a lifetime of bottling up his magical powers, Harry finally feels like a normal kid. But even within the Wizarding community, he is special. He is the boy who lived: the only person to have ever survived a killing curse inflicted by the evil Lord Voldemort, who launched a brutal takeover of the Wizarding world, only to vanish after failing to kill Harry. Though Harry's first year at Hogwarts is the best of his life, not everything is perfect. There is a dangerous secret object hidden within the castle walls, and Harry believes it's his responsibility to prevent it from falling into evil hands. But doing so will bring him into contact with forces more terrifying than he ever could have imagined. Full of sympathetic characters, wildly imaginative situations, and countless exciting details, the first installment in the series assembles an unforgettable magical world and sets the stage for many high-stakes adventures to come.  (goodreads.com)

A Christmas Carol (Charles Dickens, Joe L. Wheeler (Contributor)) 'If I had my way, every idiot who goes around with Merry Christmas on his lips, would be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. Merry Christmas? Bah humbug!' Introduction and Afterword by Joe Wheeler To bitter, miserly Ebenezer Scrooge, Christmas is just another day. But all that changes when the ghost of his long-dead business partner appears, warning Scrooge to change his ways before it's too late. Part of the Focus on the Family Great Stories collection, this edition features an in-depth introduction and discussion questions by Joe Wheeler to provide greater understanding for today's reader. "A Christmas Carol" captures the heart of the holidays like no other novel.  (goodreads.com)

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (J.K. Rowling, Mary GrandPré (Illustrator)) The Dursleys were so mean and hideous that summer that all Harry Potter wanted was to get back to the Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. But just as he's packing his bags, Harry receives a warning from a strange, impish creature named Dobby who says that if Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts, disaster will strike And strike it does. For in Harry's second year at Hogwarts, fresh torments and horrors arise, including an outrageously stuck-up new professor, Gilderoy Lockhart, a spirit named Moaning Myrtle who haunts the girls' bathroom, and the unwanted attentions of Ron Weasley's younger sister, Ginny. But each of these seem minor annoyances when the real trouble begins, and someone -- or something -- starts turning Hogwarts students to stone. Could it be Draco Malfoy, a more poisonous rival than ever? Could it possibly be Hagrid, whose mysterious past is finally told? Or could it be the one everyone at Hogwarts most suspects . . . Harry Potter himself?  (goodreads.com)

Fatherland (Robert Harris) It is twenty years after Nazi Germany's triumphant victory in World War II and the entire country is preparing for the grand celebration of the Führer's seventy-fifth birthday, as well as the imminent peacemaking visit from President Kennedy. Meanwhile, Berlin Detective Xavier March -- a disillusioned but talented investigation of a corpse washed up on the shore of a lake. When a dead man turns out to be a high-ranking Nazi commander, the Gestapo orders March off the case immediately. Suddenly other unrelated deaths are anything but routine. Now obsessed by the case, March teams up with a beautiful, young American journalist and starts asking questions...dangerous questions. What they uncover is a terrifying and long-concealed conspiracy of such astonding and mind-numbing terror that is it certain to spell the end of the Third Reich -- if they can live long enough to tell the world about it.  (goodreads.com)

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (J.K. Rowling, Mary GrandPré (Illustrator)) Harry Potter's third year at Hogwarts is full of new dangers. A convicted murderer, Sirius Black, has broken out of Azkaban prison, and it seems he's after Harry. Now Hogwarts is being patrolled by the dementors, the Azkaban guards who are hunting Sirius. But Harry can't imagine that Sirius or, for that matter, the evil Lord Voldemort could be more frightening than the dementors themselves, who have the terrible power to fill anyone they come across with aching loneliness and despair. Meanwhile, life continues as usual at Hogwarts. A top-of-the-line broom takes Harry's success at Quidditch, the sport of the Wizarding world, to new heights. A cute fourth-year student catches his eye. And he becomes close with the new Defense of the Dark Arts teacher, who was a childhood friend of his father. Yet despite the relative safety of life at Hogwarts and the best efforts of the dementors, the threat of Sirius Black grows ever closer. But if Harry has learned anything from his education in wizardry, it is that things are often not what they seem. Tragic revelations, heartwarming surprises, and high-stakes magical adventures await the boy wizard in this funny and poignant third installment of the beloved series.  (goodreads.com)

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (J.K. Rowling, Mary GrandPré (Illustrator)) Harry Potter is midway through his training as a wizard and his coming of age. Harry wants to get away from the pernicious Dursleys and go to the International Quidditch Cup. He wants to find out about the mysterious event that's supposed to take place at Hogwarts this year, an event involving two other rival schools of magic, and a competition that hasn't happened for a hundred years. He wants to be a normal, fourteen-year-old wizard. But unfortunately for Harry Potter, he's not normal - even by wizarding standards. And in his case, different can be deadly.  (goodreads.com)

The Hobbit or There and Back Again (J.R.R. Tolkien) Written for J.R.R. Tolkien’s own children, The Hobbit met with instant critical acclaim when it was first published in 1937. Now recognized as a timeless classic, this introduction to the hobbit Bilbo Baggins, the wizard Gandalf, Gollum, and the spectacular world of Middle-earth recounts of the adventures of a reluctant hero, a powerful and dangerous ring, and the cruel dragon Smaug the Magnificent. The text in this 372-page paperback edition is based on that first published in Great Britain by Collins Modern Classics (1998), and includes a note on the text by Douglas A. Anderson (2001). Unforgettable!  (goodreads.com)

[i-breathe-therefore-i-read]

Revenants Series by Amy Plum

In the City of Lights, two star-crossed lovers battle a fate that is destined to tear them apart again and again for eternity. When Kate Mercier's parents die in a tragic car accident, she leaves her life--and memories--behind to live with her grandparents in Paris. For Kate, the only way to survive her pain is escaping into the world of books and Parisian art. Until she meets Vincent. Mysterious, charming, and devastatingly handsome, Vincent threatens to melt the ice around Kate's guarded heart with just his smile. As she begins to fall in love with Vincent, Kate discovers that he's a revenant--an undead being whose fate forces him to sacrifice himself over and over again to save the lives of others. Vincent and those like him are bound in a centuries-old war against a group of evil revenants who exist only to murder and betray. Kate soon realizes that if she follows her heart, she may never be safe again.

*What I thought: 4 out of 5 stars

read: 05/18

I like the take on the revenants. Not quite ghosts and not quite vampires but pieces pulled from them kinda make the revenants. I like the jokes everyone makes about it. lol. I like that there are bad and good numa because how can you have a story without good and evil?

Kate has her tragic past and weirdly the world of the dead brought back her life. I honestly don’t think I would be able to handle it as well as Kate....though she did have a freak out moment which it was totally understandable. 

I loved everyone that was Vincent’s kindred especially Jules and Ambrose. Everyone was a cool bunch and loved Kate immediately. 

I liked her grandparents. They’re the cool grandparents that everyone wants as their own lol....except me, my grandma is awesome. I liked and disliked her sister. She didn’t listen as much when Kate tried to warn her, but I guess that’s what sister’s are for lol. But then she always was conscience of being there for Kate.

The fight with the big bad numa was pretty neat. I liked how that went down.

Being set in Paris makes me want to visit and go everywhere she did.

Kate and Vincent have overcome the odds and at last they are together in Paris, the city of lights and love. As their romance deepens there’s one question they can’t ignore: How are they supposed to be together if Vincent can’t resist sacrificing himself to save others? Although Vincent promises that he’ll do whatever it takes to lead a normal life with Kate, will that mean letting innocent people die? When a new and surprising enemy reveals itself, Kate realizes that even more may be at stake—and that Vincent’s immortality is in jeopardy.

*What I thought: 4 out of 5 stars

read: 05/18

Didn’t like there wasn’t much of Kate and Vincent in this one. They spent more time apart than together :( They both were trying to figure out how to make things work for them. And that brings up how I thought it was neat Kate found the story that was similar to her situation with Vincent and who she found because of it. Vincent’s way brings up the next point...the “villain”. I kinda figured out who the villain was early on. It was obvious to me but I can see how they didn’t figure it out because that person was sneaky. It’s always the one you least expect.

The characters are still great. I like there was more of Kate’s sister Georgia and how willing she was to help. I like the build up to the next book because that ending...I hope it’s not true or there is something that makes it better in the next one.

I will not lose another person I love. I will not let history repeat itself. Vincent waited lifetimes to find me, but in an instant our future together was shattered. He was betrayed by someone we both called a friend, and I lost him. Now our enemy is determined to rule over France’s immortals, and willing to wage a war to get what they want. It shouldn’t be possible, none of it should be, but this is my reality. I know Vincent is somewhere out there, I know he’s not completely gone, and I will do anything to save him. After what we’ve already fought to achieve, a life without Vincent is unimaginable. He once swore to avoid dying—to go against his nature and forsake sacrificing himself for others—so that we could be together. How can I not risk everything to bring my love back to me?

*What I thought: 4 out of 5 stars

read: 05/18

I really like the start of the book with them trying to figure out a way to get Vincent away. It was neat on them searching for the information and finding it. Some trial and error and they finally got their way. Yay! It was something wild and I find it hard that it would work that way.

Wow, there was some things that I didn’t expect but some things I figured out it was going to go that way. I saw who the champion was early on, it was something that wasn’t at all subtle in the book. The unexpected part was what happened to Kate. Like holy bananas I didn’t see that coming...but yet it fits her? It really helped her towards the end. I really like how things went down and how they defeated the numa.

Her family was just awesomesauce. I didn’t like her sister’s games when it came to boys but she was all about helping and being there for Kate. 

Overall, I liked the series. They were interesting and kept me entertained. 

[alexsfictionaddiction]

Historical Fiction of 2020

Although I enjoy many classic novels, particularly from the Victorian era, I’ve never really considered historical fiction to be a genre that I gravitate towards. However, I actually read quite a lot of books this year that technically fall into the genre. It’s weird to think about stories set in the 1960s and 1970s as historical fiction but the truth is, they are!

There are some really stunning books in this list and I know that you’ll enjoy your trip back in time with all of them. Get them all and experience life in both the distant and recent past. Enjoy! -Love, Alex x

1. Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell.

In 16th century Warwickshire, Agnes is a woman with a unique gift whose relationship with a young Latin tutor produces three children and a legacy that lasts for centuries. This book has deserved every single ounce of praise and promotion that it’s been given this year. Thoroughly enchanting and well-researched, devastatingly heartbreaking and written in the most perfect, beautiful prose that truly captivates the reader and draws them into a spellbinding tragic story.

2. The Miseducation of Evie Epworth by Matson Taylor.

Set in East Yorkshire in 1962, 16-year-old milk delivery girl Evie is on a mission to rescue her father and the family farm from a gold-digger of her future stepmother. This funny, coming-of-age novel depicts life as a teenaged girl in rural England during the 1960s perfectly. With relevant pop culture references and witty writing, this uplifting book is the perfect tonic to a bad day.

3. The Devil and the Dark Water by Stuart Turton.

It’s 1634 aboard the Saardam, a ship that has just left the East Indies bound for Amsterdam. On board is detective Sammy Pipps, who is awaiting execution for a crime he didn’t commit, and his loyal bodyguard Arent Hayes. Not long into the journey, a lame leper inexplicably bursts into flames and strange, dark occurrences manifest. Addictive and twisty, this mystery has an Agatha Christie vibe that keeps the pages turning and the reader guessing what is really going on aboard the Saardam.

4. Betty by Tiffany McDaniel.

Beginning in the 1930s, Betty is the sixth of eight children in a family blighted by poverty and violence but fuelled by a diet of her Cherokee father’s stories and the stunning natural world around the Appalachian mountains, Betty begins to find solace in writing. Told in a beautiful lyrical style, this novel is full of difficult and distressing content so please proceed with caution. However, it is a magical poetic reading experience with some truly incredible characters. I believe it’s inspired by the life of author’s mother, which adds an extra emotional, authentic edge.

5. The Mercies by Kiran Millwood Hargrave.

In 1617, a vicious storm kills most of the men of Vardø, Norway and now it’s up to the women to keep things going. However, a man with a murderous past is about to come down with an iron fist. At the heart of this dark tale of witch trials, grief and feminism, two women find something they’ve each been searching for within each other. This is a beautiful, slow-burning queer romance sparkling with emotion that makes for a truly atmospheric read, perfect for a cold winter’s night. 

[ewh111]

2017 Annual List of Favorite Film Experiences

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

With each passing year, I find it harder to keep up with new release films, as well as the growing queue of ones on my “To See” list. On the other hand, it feels like quality films are sequestered till the end of the year (nothing against summer blockbusters, but with a few exceptions, many are forgotten by the time you get back to your car) and the growing appeal and abundance of quality television fostered by its broader canvas for in-depth storytelling and character development is another distraction. 

But that brings me to one of my favorite things about the holiday season in Los Angeles. The last six weeks or so of the year is filled with many appealing options as films jockey for exposure ahead of the awards season. And I have a great deal of appreciation and gratitude (and a bit of jealousy) for the many artists and others who have the passion to make these visions come to life for us to enjoy.

All the best for a wonderful 2018 and hope that you get a chance to see some of the films below that moved me in some way, sometimes filling me with emotion or awe, or provoking long-lasting thoughts, or just trigger the desire to re-experience and see it again. So, here they are, in no particular order.

Cheers, Ed

P.S.–I’ve gotten many requests to also review favorite meals of the year, so that might come in another post. :)

Indelible Coming of Age Tales

Call Me By Your Name — Northern Italy, summer, 1983. Having read the André Aciman novel, this was my most anticipated film of 2017. And it did not disappoint. This beautifully told and lushly shot coming of age romance features a remarkable and revelatory (and perhaps best of 2017) performance by newcomer Timothée Chalamet (also in Lady Bird), who achingly captures the universal yearning, passion, heartache, and torment of first love. Kudos also to Armie Hammer and director Luca Guadagnino. While many moments stand out, including the empathetic and compassionate speech by father Michael Stuhlberg (also in Shape of Water) that is the dream of every LGBT kid, it’s the minutes-long reactive close-up on Chalamet as the credits roll and song of yearning plays that devastatingly endures. My favorite of 2017.

Lady Bird — Sacramento, 2002. A semi-autobiographical coming of age in the suburbs tale featuring the humorous, turbulent, and affecting relationship between mother and daughter by Greta Gerwig in her directorial debut. With a fabulous performance by Saoirse Ronan as the head-strong teen who calls herself Lady Bird, a terrific Laurie Metcalf as her mom, and HW alum Beanie Feldstein ’11 as her best friend, this is the rare comedy that is smart, witty, and endearing.

Compelling Period Piece True Stories 

Dunkirk — Dunkirk, France, 1940. A visually and viscerally compelling piece of filmmaking about the miraculous evacuation of 300,000 British troops from the doomed beach at Dunkirk, masterfully crafted by director Christopher Nolan via three intertwined timeframes (a week on the beach, a day by sea, and an hour in the air) that intersect and fold back and ultimately, come together in the end. 

The Post — Washington, DC, 1971. Spielberg + Streep + Hanks = a highly timely and relevant telling of the Washington Post’s saga to publish the Pentagon Papers. Resonant on so many levels with urgent themes of today—the need for a free press, the role of women in a man’s world, and a judicial branch independent from an overreaching executive branch—all told with briskly entertaining and thrilling pace. 

All the Money In The World — UK/Italy, 1973. I’ll admit that I was initially attracted to this pic to see how director Ridley Scott erased Kevin Spacey and recast Christopher Plummer in the role of billionaire J. Paul Getty and reshot major portions of his film six weeks before its release date. Hats off to him for pulling off a very engaging thriller depicting the notorious kidnapping of Getty’s grandson. Michelle Williams is spot-on as the mother who goes toe-to-toe with her infamously frugal father-in-law who refuses to pay ransom for her child. 

Dark Master Works By An Irish Playwright and a Black Comedian 

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri — Ebbing, MO, present day. Loved this very dark dramedy whose story emanates from a tragic event in a small town. There’s plenty of levity and wonderfully drawn characters via Martin McDonagh’s clever screenplay that mixes revenge, redemption, and moral ambiguity, featuring a trio of tremendous performances by raging mother of deceased raped daughter Frances McDormand, small town police chief and target of McDormand’s ire Woody Harrelson, and racist, violent, alcoholic mama’s boy police officer Sam Rockwell. 

Get Out — Suburban countryside, present day America. A creepy, twisted, funny, scary, and subversive version of “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner” crossed with a little bit of “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” for the post-Obama era. A brilliant, provocative, and unnerving nexus of sophisticated horror, comedy, and extremely biting social satire by Jordan Peele in his directorial debut.

Strange and Untraditional Love Stories 

Phantom Thread —London, circa 1950s. I love Paul Thomas Anderson, and he’s made one strange but riveting movie here. A gorgeous Jonny Greenwood score swings from elegantly jazzy to intensely haunting, setting the mood for this darkly humorous film featuring hard to describe relationships (I hesitate to call it a love story) between an obsessively demanding and fastidious fashion designer (Daniel Day-Lewis supposedly in his last film role), his muse, and his ever-lurking sister/business partner and their respective emotional/psychological (and ultimately perverse) gamesmanship. And one may not listen to water-pouring or toast-buttering, or mushroom omelet eating in the same way again. 

The Shape of Water — Baltimore, circa 1962. Mix in a large dose of Cold War thriller and Creature from the Black Lagoon, plus a little Busby Berkeley, and you either get a political allegory (marginalized “others” whether mute, black, gay, or non-human vs. the Man) or romantic fairy tale. Leave it to Guillermo del Toro to bring us the more “romantic” one in this strange love stories category, an oddly beautiful and enchanting interspecies romance between two mute and isolated beings, one a cleaning woman (a wonderful Sally Hawkins) and the other a Creature From the Black Lagoon-inspired merman kept in a top secret government facility. Arguably, the “monster” in this story is the intensely sadistic government agent played with gusto by Michael Shannon. 

Bizarre Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction Tales 

I, Tonya —  Portland, OR, 1994. A stellar Margot Robbie plays the hard scrabble, trailer-trash, and ultimately disgraced Olympic figure skater Tonya Harding in this unbelievably crazy but true story of her life leading up to the infamous incident before the 1994 Winter Olympics. Told in zippy mockumentary style that is fun to watch, Allison Janney as her zany, abusive mother leads a supporting cast of inept characters involved in Tonya’s dysfunctional life. Directed by Craig Gillispie who also directed the offbeat gem, Lars and the Real Girl. 

The Disaster Artist — Hollywood, 2003. Another bizarre, but true real life story about the enigmatic writer/director Tommy Wiseau who made one of the most absurdly bad films ever that eventually turned into a cult classic (The Room). Humorously portrayed by James Franco, who also directed this offbeat but unexpectedly poignant movie about making a movie, though it’s ultimately more about the importance of friendship, having dreams, and America’s fascination with celebrity and movies. (And the side-by-side comparison of scenes from the actual The Room and recreations in Franco’s film are hysterical.)

Docs About Felines and Cheating Russians 

Kedi — Yes, this a documentary about cats, but it’s not just about cats. Rather it’s a meditative and heartwarming look at the community of felines that inhabit the streets of Istanbul, delving into their centuries-long symbiotic relationship with humans in the old city. The city is teeming with cats that are neither feral or domestic, each with different personalities and lives they share with the people they adopt. And therein lies the heart of this film, as the locals share their bonds and therapeutic experiences with these complex creatures, ranging from the mundane to the profound. 

Icarus – Putin + mysterious deaths + performance-enhancing drug conspiracy = A fascinating and crazy documentary that plays like a spy thriller. It starts out as an odd personal experiment by the filmmaker/amateur cyclist mimicking Lance Armstrong’s doping regimen, but through sheer dumb luck and serendipity, he develops a friendship with Gregory Rodchenkov, the affable, eccentric, and charismatic camera-loving head of Russia’s Anti-Doping Lab…and, as it turns out, the country’s mastermind behind its decades-long state-sponsored doping program. It then becomes a terrifying race to uncover the world’s biggest sports conspiracy, implicating everybody including the Russian president (resulting in the NY Times exposé) while trying to save whistle-blower Rodchenkov���s life from the clutches of Putin. 

Docs about Life and Death 

Obit. —While it may sound morbid, this behind-the-scenes look at the NY Times’ obituary staff writers is enlightening and fascinating, and in fact, quite lively (even its peek into the “morgue,” the paper’s clipping archive). Beyond celebrities and notables, who makes the editorial cut in the pages of the NY Times obit section? And how does one get appropriately celebrated in death, warts and all. Now you can find out.   

Chasing Coral – A wake-up call to the accelerating world-wide death of entire coral reef ecosystems by “coral bleaching.” This remarkably emotional doc follows a team of biologists, including a self-proclaimed “coral nerd” in a race against time to document this die-off with powerful visual evidence, and the result is an inspirational eco drama that moves you to act before it’s too late. 

Others Worth Mentioning 

Baby Driver (the soundtrack and editing alone are worth the thrilling 112 minutes of this stylish heist story about a young getaway driver); It (I don’t generally like horror films, but this retelling of Stephen King’s classic was one of the most engaging and well told of its genre); Star Wars: The Last Jedi (my favorite of the series); Loving Vincent (every frame of the film was hand-painted in the style of Van Gogh); Mudbound; Spider-Man: Homecoming (loved Tom Holland as the new Peter Parker); Beach Rats; The Big Sick; War for the Planet of the Apes;The Only Living Boy in New York; Wonder Woman; Spielberg; Battle of the Sexes; Stronger 

In the Queue

Coco, Darkest Hour, Detroit, Film Stars Don’t Die In Liverpool, Downsizing, Molly’s Game, Florida Project, Victoria and Abdul.

Binge-Worthy Television

13 Reasons Why, Stranger Things 2, The OA, Mindhunter, Big Little Lies, Grace and Frankie 

Trailers

All the Money in the World: https://youtu.be/KXHrCBkIxQQ

Call Me By Your Name: https://youtu.be/Z9AYPxH5NTM

Chasing Coral: https://youtu.be/b6fHA9R2cKI

The Disaster Artist: https://youtu.be/cMKX2tE5Luk

Dunkirk: https://youtu.be/F-eMt3SrfFU

Get Out: https://youtu.be/sRfnevzM9kQ

I, Tonya: https://youtu.be/OXZQ5DfSAAc

Icarus: https://youtu.be/qXoRdSTrR-4

Kedi: https://youtu.be/w9fwhVx9zR0

Lady Bird: https://youtu.be/cNi_HC839Wo

Obit.: https://youtu.be/BgpMNerK9cU

Phantom Thread: https://youtu.be/xNsiQMeSvMk

The Post: https://youtu.be/nrXlY6gzTTM

The Shape of Water: https://youtu.be/XFYWazblaUA

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri: https://youtu.be/Jit3YhGx5pU

[hadarlaskey]

Why I love Alain Delon’s performance in Rocco and his Brothers

Luchino Visconti saw an innocence in the catlike beauty of Alain Delon that countered the rest of the French actor’s career and character. In his heyday between the 1960s and ’80s, Delon had a magnetism that gave him dangerous powers, as well he knew. “I was very, very, very handsome,” he told GQ in 2018. “Women were all obsessed with me.” Directors cast him in parts that exploited those looks to nefarious ends. His most famous roles ran from coolly detached in a trench coat in Jean-Pierre Melville’s stripped-back crime thrillers to downright murderous as the original talented Mr Ripley in René Clément’s Plein Soleil.

Still alive today at 84, despite suffering a stroke last year, his star has fallen amid homophobic comments and fascist leanings after he aligned himself with the National Front in 2013 – not that this stopped Cannes awarding him an honorary Palme d’Or in 2019. His last big screen outing of note was as Julius Caesar in 2008’s Asterix at the Olympic Games.

Back in the ’60s, Visconti tapped into a reservoir of simple goodness both times that he cast Delon. The actor posses a watchful stillness that often resembles a predator sizing up its prey. In 1960’s Rocco and his Brothers that same stillness is used to convey a quiet boy who fades into the background of his rambunctious family until they need him, at which point his will to martyrdom knows no rational bounds.

Rocco explores the prospects of peasant-turned-working-class Italians. The newly widowed Rosa Parondi (Katina Paxinou) relocates with her four sons from a small farming village in the South to Milan in the North hoping for that archetypal dream: a better life, choosing the city where her fifth son lives with his wife. Where Visconti’s lavish masterpiece The Leopard, made three years later, is all ballrooms and banquets, Rocco is cramped apartments, factories, bars, boxing gyms; rejoicing at the sight of snow because it means work shovelling sidewalks; using a popular scam to find somewhere to live.

The film is centred around five brothers whose names divide the story into segments: Vincenzo (Spyros Fokas), Simone (Renato Salvatori), Rocco (Delon), Ciro (Max Cartier), Luca (Roco Vidolazzi). There is not a static minute, only 177 propulsive ones. The interplay between black-and-white neorealist visuals and melodramatically passionate characters leads to a dance between the grounded and the operatic, and Nino Rota’s sumptuous score so impressed Francis Ford Coppola that he hired him for The Godfather. A stickler for detail, Visconti sets every scene within a vivid background, key events of the brothers’ lives surge out of minutiae of their social situations.

Whirl-winding through this male narrative is a virtuoso performance by Annie Girardot as Nadia, a beautiful young sex worker whose destiny intertwines with the Parondis. Girardot is aflame with hellcat energy from the moment she turns up in the family home, only to escape out of the bathroom window. She is full of wild laughter, sensuality and rage at the dying of the light. Simone, the family’s great hope for social mobility via his boxing prowess, promptly falls for her, setting in motion tragic consequences for everyone, most devastatingly Nadia herself.

Elements of her most distressing scenes were cut for US audiences on initial release. Consider this a trigger warning for violence against women. It is testament to the extraordinary life force that Girardot brings to the screen that what you remember isn’t her miserable arc, it’s her laugh. (A wild thing to imagine, when all is said and done, is that Girardot and Salvatore got married.)

The most beautiful scene in the film – a reprieve – occurs during the mid-section belonging to Rocco. Army service has taken him to a nearby town where he runs into Nadia. Garrulous and charming as ever, she spirits him away on a horse-drawn carriage to have coffee in a cafe. They talk like spiritual equals. Her gregarious mask crumbles. “Have faith and have no fear,” he tells her. “Have great faith.” She has never been treated so respectfully by a man before and it causes a different side of her character to bloom. She tastes hope and beauty and love. The catalyst is a quality in Alain Delon as Rocco as he gazes with the eyes of someone who has great faith.

The post Why I love Alain Delon’s performance in Rocco and his Brothers appeared first on Little White Lies.

source https://lwlies.com/articles/alain-delon-performance-rocco-and-his-brothers/