#yes this is about the avowed showcase

[bragganhyl]

okay but that POV shot in the In-Between got me straight up vibrating

[eruscreaminginthedistance]

but ye ultimately I don't think the Avowed showcase revealed anything about the plot we didn't already know? Gameplay looks cool but very staged for the show so didn't really get a good idea of how it'd play irl

[tcm]

The More the Merrier by Kim Luperi

When I first saw THE MORE THE MERRIER (’43), I was entranced by the film’s nimble physical comedy, witty dialogue and the lyrical chemistry shared between Jean Arthur, Joel McCrea and Charles Coburn. Another point that fascinated me was how Columbia got away with it all. THE MORE THE MERRIER adds a zany romantic comedy spin to World War II’s housing shortage.

When career gal Connie (Arthur) decides to rent part of her D.C. apartment in the name of patriotism, she ends up with middle-aged businessman Dingle (Coburn) as a roomie. Unbeknownst to Connie, Dingle sublets part of his half to serviceman Joe (McCrea) and proceeds to play cupid, despite Connie’s engagement to stuffy Mr. Pendergast (Richard Gaines). Between THE MORE THE MERRIER’S celebrated stoop scene and the fact that an engaged woman lives with two single men (neither of whom are her fiancé), it stunned me how quietly and openly subversive this movie was in terms of censorship.

I took a look into the film’s Production Code Administration (PCA) and press files at the Academy’s Margaret Herrick Library to see how the movie was publicized and gauge the reaction of the industry’s censors and critics to these elements. To start at the beginning, I was shocked to find hardly any objection to Connie shacking up with Joe and Dingle. Yes, Connie’s love of her country landed her in this unusual living situation, and she doesn’t reveal she’s betrothed until about halfway through the film. It’s also true that Dingle’s fatherly quality and less-than-virile appearance alleviates any potential romance with Connie, but Joe is obviously a different story.

Save for advising against hints of homosexuality between Dingle and Joe (yes, that was a note), this arrangement did not raise eyebrows with the PCA, though the publicity played up the suggestiveness, particularly by showcasing Connie in a bathing suit or lingerie. One advert proclaimed: “Did I do wrong…sharing my bath and kitchen with two strange men? That’s only a small part of what happens to Jean Arthur in 1943’s NEW kind of a movie. IT SHOWS YOU… How to make love with a thin wall between you and your sweetheart!” Ironically, while such provoking copy was approved, the PCA advised that Connie and Joe’s beds should be a few inches from the wall they share, as “there must never be any suggestion in the minds of the audience that the partition does not exist.” Except that’s just the effect director George Stevens was going for!

The scene on the steps is legendary, though I was surprised to find it plays differently to me today. Dialogue-wise, the sequence finds Joe and Connie sharing inconsequential small talk as they stroll through the streets after a night out, eventually ending up on Connie's stoop. What has been hailed as erotic about this episode is the way in which Joe's hands amorously explore Connie's body as she reluctantly resists him, his inquisitive yet gentle actions ultimately breaking her down as Stevens moves the camera closer and closer to them until Connie finally melts into Joe's arms.

Though played for comedy, Joe’s actions, described in a September 1942 script note as: “…Joe constantly fondling her and Connie as constantly turning from him,” left an uneasy, disrespectful impression through my modern lens, even considering Stevens establishes Connie’s requited affections for Joe and more than one script direction puts her in charge later (“Now Connie takes the initiative and kisses him...”). Though PCA notes from a February 1943 screening mention the “use of hands by McCrea—fondling,” no censor boards made cuts to this scene. I get it; while some may view this sequence as challenging today, for decades audiences (and society) heralded it as dreamy and passionate, and to censors, it was seemingly respectful enough not to elicit concern.

Though my attitude towards that infamous scene has changed, THE MORE THE MERRIER still dazzles me by its cleverness and unobtrusively rebellious nature. I mean, in what other movie could Coburn get away with proclaiming, “Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!” like 10 times after the PCA avowed that they only “approved reluctantly” the expression for one scene—because repeating it would be “in conflict” with the purpose of the Production Code!

[therkalexander]

Hey Rachel! Are you doing the director's cut thing still? If so, can you the scene with Aidon, Hecate, and Nyx in the garden in RoM? Right before Aidon and Persephone make up? Thank you so very much!

OK! Here we go…

I really wanted to have Hecate have a  moment to shine instead of waltzing on screen to be effusive and mysterious and then disappear the next. I also wanted to introduce Nyx in a big way and hint that there is a lot of prophecy at work and a line of succession and esoteric knowledge that has been passed along since Mother Chaos created the Universe. 

This was her last day as the Maiden. She stood taller, nearly flowered. Hecate could feel the impending shift to the Woman as surely as she had for a hundred aeons. She walked through the garden in her white peplos, her adolescent feet padding over the earth. She sensed the bursts of colorful blossoms at the garden’s edge before she could even see them, felt the warmth of breathing life radiating from the six trees. They had taken a little less than a moon’s cycle to bloom, their flowers vibrant red against the rich green leaves. Their brilliance stood like a beacon against the pallid grays and midnight-darkened evergreen of the Underworld.

Ducking under the branches, she stood in the middle of the small grove. Hecate walked to one of the flowers and peered at its petals, soft and translucent red, glowing as if the sun shone through them. She reached out and touched the waxy leaves, then drew her hand back in surprise. They were warm, as if they were basking in the daylight of the living world above. The red blossom would be unremarkable if it were growing above ground. But this was Chthonia. This sun didn’t shine here. Hecate pulled a single petal from a low hanging flower, examining it in her hand. As she did, the one beside it shook loose and floated to the barren ground below. She rolled the petal in her hand and smelled it, tasted it, closed her eyes and moved the energy of the ether through it, trying to find something, anything, unusual about it. She could find nothing that made these trees any different from those growing in the world above, other than how quickly they grew. Perhaps that was their only miracle.

In case anyone had forgotten that the flowers had started blooming on the trees after Aidon and Persephone really had started communicating with each other, and the following morning when everything had broken down. I wanted to showcase it through her point of view, because she has seen so many visions about them and views them as a prophecy. I also wanted to hint at the creation of Elysion without actually saying “and this was a portent for the Elysian Fields to be created.

Hecate tucked the single petal into the neckline of her peplos, and reached for the one that had fallen to the ground. When she picked it up, she cupped her hand to her mouth in shock and stumbled back, falling hard on her rump. She stood again, feeling her heart beating out of her chest, and dusted off the back of her peplos, staring closely at the place from where she’d picked up the fallen blossom. Hecate’s fingers feathered over a small tuft of light green grass. It grew in the exact shape, in the exact place of the flower that had fallen to the infertile ground. She leaned over, her breath teasing the fragile blades. “It can’t be…”

She stood up again and looked at the trees all around her, breathing shallowly. “It can’t be!”

Hecate turned her eyes upward and called out to the mists above. “Nyx!! Mother Nyx, you must see this!”

She waited.

“Nyx?”

“Your mother was Asteria— daughter of Phiobe, daughter of Gaia— who pledged you as my acolyte, young one,” a lilting voice said behind her. Hecate turned to meet the silver rimmed eyes of her mentor, the Goddess of Night, aged as many centuries as Hecate could count years. Darkness wrapped around the curves of her body like an unbound, thin himation, clinging to her and flowing around her as though she were underwater. Her jet-black hair waved about her weightlessly, and her bare white feet stuck out below the cover of darkness, hovering above the ground. She smiled at Hecate. “And after all these millennia, Hecate, we are more friends now than teacher and student, no?”

Again with the trying to show without telling here. I wanted to allude to a chain that stretched back to the creation of the universe itself, with one woman teaching the next about the dance of creation. I also wanted to give a real sense to just how ancient Nyx really is.

“Yes, my lady,” she smiled.

“What troubles you, young one?” Nyx looked around at the red flowers and answered her own question. “Is it the trees? They are no doubt the work of your student.”

“His hands couldn’t grow this orchard. Not his two alone,” Hecate said, walking over to the tree and brushing her fingers over the leaves.

“Which is why I first hesitated when you told me you had chosen Aidoneus,” she said. “The line of our sacred knowledge has always been passed from goddess to goddess— never to a male.”

So everyone takes the hieros gamos and puts their own spin on it. It’s a rite that speaks to creation, but as it goes forward it’s like a book into which everyone writes their own interpretation. I’m sure that Nyx did it differently than Mother Chaos, and Hecate does things differently than Nyx.

“And that sacred stream had never flowed to an avowed virgin before me. The world has its seasons, and sometimes we have to change with them. True, there is still much for him to learn. But please trust me, as I have asked and you have done before. Your favorite proved herself unworthy, after all,” Hecate replied. “Simple passions ruled her, not the call of wisdom. Her decisions may undo us all one day.”

The her is Demeter in case anyone wasn’t clear on that.

“Sooner than you think, young one. My dear son Thanatos walks the earth above too often. The Fates will cut too many threads from the Cloth of Life before this ends. Perhaps it’s best for all if we send the little queen back…”

“We cannot, Nyx,” Hecate said, returning to where the flower had fallen on the barren ground. “The soil itself tells us why. Look…”

When I wrote the story I wanted to make damn sure to create a situation in which Persephone was in the Underworld but that she wasn’t trapped in the Underworld. Nyx thought of sending her back and could have easily convinced Aidoneus that that was the right things to do. Of course, we see later in this scene that he had the same idea but for different reasons. 

Ok and coming up, I kind of love the idea of Nyx being bound not only to her husband and consort eternally, but that he actually is her very clothing. My inspiration for this was thinking about a woman wound up in yards of black georgette or silk and moving underwater. Nyx isn’t affected by gravity. She is older than gravity.

The Goddess of Night tipped forward as though she were swimming through the air, her hair gently waving behind her. The shroud of darkness followed after, falling away from one breast before it rushed up on its own to cover her once more. Nyx leaned down and looked at the tuft of grass. She listened intently to a silent voice above her and moved her hand along the darkness shrouding her body, caressing it and looking lovingly up to where it swept up and faded away from her form. A slow smile spread across her face. “I knew there was a reason my husband liked her so much.”

Hecate looked at her, perplexed, before it dawned on her. “I knew they first coupled before they reached the lands below, but I hadn’t imagined it could have been while they were—”

“Erebus said he was honored. He told me he bore witness to the Goddess mating with her thrice-chosen Consort in the ancient manner, the way it was done before the Tyrant.” Nyx spat the last word, refusing to say Kronos’s name. She rose, righting herself. “Chaos mated with the Void in kind to create the cosmos. It was the original hieros gamos, before my generation perfected it. The true Sacred Marriage of the gods— not the pantomime your Lampades engage in with the mortals.”

Ok, so I had some fun with this idea. I mean, Erebus is a person and a place, and he became the shadow way before the Titanomachy for reasons I will get into when I write the prologue for that particular book. But I kind of had an inward laugh at how Erebus would have reacted, seeing his prophesied queen and his wife’s adopted heir gettin’ it on in a rapidly descending chariot. Also, Nyx has more than a bit of snark about the spread of the hieros gamos to more than just one person at a time.

“Aidoneus���s eyes saw their union differently,” Hecate said, ignoring her teacher’s slight against her nymph acolytes. “And a mere moon’s cycle learning her thoughts gives me much doubt that Persephone would see it your way either.”

“You know better than most that things are not always what they seem,” Nyx said as she moved back to the trees. “The narcissus I had Gaia plant in the center of Persephone’s sacred grove was what drew her here. When she plucked it, she laid aside her old life and chose us and our ways. She chose him as her mate in that moment, whether she knew or not.”

“The divine purpose of that flower is unlikely to bring peace to either of their hearts.”

“Our ways are not the ways of the world above. Aidoneus has only begun to realize that. And she will see that one day as well.”

“They have not yet performed the Rite. Perhaps then—”

“All in due time. Be patient with them, young one.”

“My lady,” Hecate said, pointing at the small tuft of grass, “if these blades carry the meaning we suspect, and the true purpose of their union comes to pass— will you join your consort, and become the night as he became the shadow?”

Erebus had not always been the encompassing darkness that separated Chthonia from the world above. Before Kronos enslaved the entire House of Nyx and imprisoned them in the Underworld, all the Protogenoi walked the earth in forms made flesh. Erebus was a tall man with silver hair and midnight blue eyes. Every shadow cast in the daylight stretched forth from his raven black wings— the Lord of Shadows was a fitting consort for his wife, the Goddess of Night. After the war, one by one, they had chosen to fade from their tangible forms into their respective domains. Hemera grew more luminous until she was the daylight itself, Gaia took root and melded with the earth, and Erebus faded into the darkness. Slowly, others among the old gods followed in their stead, including Hecate’s beloved mother. Of the Protogenoi, Nyx was the last to retain her original form.

I love the idea of old gods, of generations of gods with the Olympians just being the latest iteration. And I think that the grandparents of the gods decided that maybe millions of years was enough time to oversee everything and decided to become the things they watched over, or the stars in the sky like Asteria did, etc. Also is it clear that I have lots of feelings about Erebus?

The goddess of night smiled as Hecate ruminated on their fate, what would someday be the fate of all the immortals. “Truth be told, Erebus likes holding me this way,” she said, brushing her hand over the wavering shroud of darkness surrounding her. “He says it makes him feel young when he touches me. I’ll keep this form for now. If our ambitions are realized— then we’ll see. I’m allowed to change my mind.”

Hecate sighed. “I thought to sow the seed of our future when we sealed the betrothal of Hades and Persephone at the river so many ages ago,” she said, running her fingers along the sun-warmed leaves. “Now, infinitely more hangs in the balance, and their sapling already twists in a storm.”

“They will find a way to weather it.”

“The aeons have passed us by, and only this and the next remain.”

I would tell you what I mean by this but I can’t. Like I still can’t. This isn’t a Chekov’s gun here. It’s a Chekov’s cannon.

“Patience.”

Hecate and Nyx turned simultaneously to see Aidoneus step out through the palace portico, walking slowly toward the grove. His arms were folded across his chest.

“Do they know?” Nyx asked.

“That these are their creation? Perhaps not. They have both seen how they flourish here. Persephone carried her husband to the grove’s heart when she found her own path through the ether, and both are led here in dreams. Aidoneus knows as well as I that creating them is beyond his wisdom, and Persephone is thwarted when she tries to grow even asphodel in the fields of its namesake, much less leaves soaked in sunlight.”

“How long since they spoke to each other?”

“Three days,” Hecate said, lowering her voice as Aidon approached.

“Have faith in them,” Nyx returned.

Enter Mr. Mopey.

They silently watched Aidoneus walk into the grove, the gravel crunching under his leather sandals. He touched the warm leaves, and then thinned his lips once he realized he was not alone.

“Hecate. Lady Nyx.” He nodded grimly to them in acknowledgement.

Nyx floated toward him. “What troubles you, little one?”

It was his least favorite sobriquet, and one she always managed to use when his frustration was greatest. Aidoneus said nothing; the Goddess of Night was a thousand aeons older than he, and with Erebus, had once ruled both the Underworld and the night sky. He was too tired to challenge her anyway, his body and soul weary from lack of sleep.

“You dislike it,” Nyx said, effortlessly reading him, “but our other name for you, Liberator, seems to fit poorly right now.”

He was the one who freed Nyx and her family from Tartarus, killing Kampe to do so. ‘Liberator’ is the highest title that Nyx has for him, and I got to use the word sobriquet in that paragraph too. Liberator is also a name for another character that has yet to appear and I debated using it an an epithet since it’s more associated with that character, but I think that both applications are appropriate here, especially considering what’s to come in the series.

Aidoneus merely circled the grove, his arms crossed behind his back.

“Ever as taciturn as you were before. Before her, at least. This isn’t about your new queen, is it?”

He clenched his teeth and looked away from her.

Hecate followed closely behind Nyx, who tried again to draw an answer from him. “Aidoneus, you can greet the rest of your subjects behind a mask of solemnity—”

“—but you can see through it, my lady; I know. I don’t wish to talk about it,” he paused, glancing at their expectant faces, and scowled before dryly continuing. “But clearly I’m to be pestered by both of you until I say something. I’ll be brief: I’m taking Persephone back to Demeter.”

Hecate shook her head. “Tilling the shoots under so soon?”

“Soon?!” he flared. “She has been here nearly a month! And as soon as there was a glimmer of hope that this could work, I destroyed it. I’ve ruined everything, Hecate. She will never find it in her heart to love me after what we did— after what I said. I’ve agonized over this for three days and I’m just going to do what is best for all.”

“And what does she have to say about this?” Nyx said.

“I cannot bring myself to speak to her, nor would she want me to. Not after we—” he walked away from Nyx and looked out above the twined branches of the trees, the waterfall in the distance cascading upward to the world above. “The mortals are suffering in her absence, thanks to her mother. After what happened between us, Persephone cannot possibly still wish to remain with me. We will still be married in name and title. She will live in the world above where she belongs, where she’s happiest, and my life can go back to the way it was.”

Here we see him returning to the comfort of who he once was. Before Persephone awakened him to emotions and love, he would of course have sent her back. The world above was dying and it would have been hypocritical of him not to. But that’s obviously not what he wants.

“There is no going back, Aidoneus,” Hecate replied, “And neither can she. What was done cannot be undone. You cannot build a new tree with those boards.”

“This is my marriage!” he said, turning back to them. “It’s my decision to make.”

“So,” Nyx said, “you will leave this realm without a Queen? Or do you have plans to take a concubine? Many of the nymphs who reside here would be willing…”

“No.” He felt bile well up in his throat as he contemplated any kind of intimacy with anyone but her.

“Would you stop her if she took a lover?”

His jaw and fingers clenched shut and he closed his eyes so Nyx could not see the fire that lit them. For all the nausea he felt at the idea of laying with another woman, the thought of his wife being touched by another man filled him with a rage so potent it could lay waste to the earth. The Olympian men had no qualms about seducing a woman once she was unbound from her vows of chastity. Unbidden images of Persephone’s body being dragged underneath Apollo or Ares tore at him until he thought he would scream.

Yeah, for all the progressive that Hades is, there isn’t anything that would cause him to become completely irrational like anyone else touching his wife.

“Did you think you could push her away so easily,” Hecate chided with a smirk, her eyes narrowed at him, “when you hold so tight?”

Aidoneus slammed his fist into the trunk of a tree next to him, feeling his skin break open on its rough bark. His wrist smarted at the impact. He looked at his abraded knuckles, then flexed his fingers outward and felt the wounds knit back together. The branches above dropped delicate red petals to the ground all around them.

“Do not presume that I came to this decision lightly.” His voice rasped and he forced his anger to subside. He wouldn’t let any of them— not Hecate or Nyx, nor his wife— destroy his hard-won peace of mind ever again. It had taken him aeons after the war to bury anything that could touch him. Now the wounds were open again. She needed to go back; he saw no reason why she wouldn’t want to go back. It was the right thing to do for both of them. Once she was with her mother, he would pay a visit to Olympus with a stern warning for each of the male gods. Their fear of him would keep her safe.

“Look around you, Hades. Our world is dark and deep and hidden— an eternal tangle of flowing rivers that surrounds and protects the souls waiting to be reborn to the world above. This is a realm that needs a Queen. We have been without one for too long.” The Goddess of Night moved toward him. “Setting me and my children free, drawing the shortest twig when Lachesis held out those three fateful lots for you and your brothers… Those pale beside the real reason the Fates chose you. The gifts and curses of ruling Chthonia were never meant to be your sole burden.”

“I have judiciously ruled this kingdom alone for thousands of years. Three and a half weeks are not—”

“And for those thousands of years we waited. We waited for the Queen to find you. To seek you out. And seek you out she did, beckoning you, before you were thrice chosen by her. First when you appeared in her dreams, second when she entered your sacred grove wearing a wreath of laurel and olive, and lastly when she plucked the flower that drew you to her from the depths.”

He shook his head. “That’s not how it happened, Nyx. I went to her father for permission to take Persephone as my bride, as it is done in the world above. I invaded her dreams; I chased her from her home, I rapt her away in my chariot and took her maidenhead in the dark.”

“Thousands of years, and still you think like an Olympian.” Hecate said. “Theirs is a different world, and ours are different ways.”

“Hecate, if I never hear you say that again, it will be too soon.” He turned to leave the grove again. “Please— both of you— just leave me in peace with my decision.”

“Hades…” Nyx breathed.

He turned, slowly and deliberately, to her once more. Aidoneus watched as she raised her hand and looked at the ground. Nyx splayed out her fingers and turned her palm upward. The red flowers lifted, hovering in midair as languidly as she did. They circled her and spiraled into a tight ball hovering weightless above her outstretched palm before bursting into flames, the embers shining like stars before vanishing into the darkness that shrouded her.

Ok I admit, this was a bit superfluous, but oh shit was it fun to imagine and write. Besides. One little tuft of grass is one thing, but when all of a sudden there are things growing in a place that’s supposed to be dead and still and unchanging... I had to herald it with something fun.

“Tell me, little one…” she said to him, “at what point should these be factored into your decision?”

Aidon looked down to where Nyx pointed her long fingers. On the gray, lifeless soil were scattered tufts of vibrant green, lying in the exact places the petals had been knocked to the ground. Making sure not to step on any of them, he walked carefully over to one, and crouched low to examine it. Aidon squinted at it and gingerly brushed his fingers along the soft blades of grass. “What in Tartarus…?” he whispered under his breath.

Hecate met his confusion with her placid gaze. “You are not the first lovers to quarrel, Aidoneus. But you are the first to create anything like this.”

“I did not… I cannot—”

Foreshadow, foreshadow...

“No, you cannot,” Hecate said. “Not you alone.”

“How are Persephone and I able to do this?” he said, his eyes wide with confusion.

Nyx and Hecate looked at each other. The Goddess of Night spoke. “My son said you came to him seeking an answer— that you’ve seen these in your dreams, and she as well…”

“Morpheus knew nothing about these,” he said. “They don’t appear in the dream world.”

“When you first went to Persephone, my son brought you together,” Nyx said. “To dream of another or ask that another dream of you is one thing…”

Aidoneus thought about their first meeting. How full of confusion he had been when he discovered himself pressed against her skin. How natural it felt to be with her.

“…But to bring two together in the same dream, to unite them— has only ever been asked of my son once.”

“Remember how you appeared to each other in the dream,” Hecate said. “And consider that it was her dream.”

He looked at Hecate, dumbfounded.

I love how all this time, Aidon thought that he was the one who subconsciously decided that they would meet each other for the first time in the nude and mid make out, but Hecate is all ‘guess what dum dum...’

“Is it so hard to believe, Aidoneus?” she continued. “You dreamed you met her in her own shrine, and so did she. She dreamed of her future husband that night, the night you walked into her dream to announce your betrothal. How you appeared to her was her idea. Your name a mystery, your realm unknown to her, she still grew your sacred bloom from the earth where she slept and dreamed of you.”

“You are her chosen Consort. And just as was done in that first dream, you, Aidoneus, provided the seed to create these. Together you have dreamed the pomegranate trees into existence, little one,” Nyx said, softly motioning to the leaves and flowers hanging above them.

“But what does it mean?”

“That is knowledge I cannot pass to you,” Hecate said.

“Of course it isn’t!” he said sarcastically. “Because the day I get a straight answer out of either of you, the Styx will flow backwards!”

In more news of drawing parallels with Persephone and Hades, I figured that of course he would get annoyed as all hell if they’re not telling him everything. And I’m sure this isn’t the first time this has happened. I’m pretty sure that Hades thinks that Nyx and Hecate knew how his “courtship” would go all along and gave him zero information about it since he was convinced it would be a well orchestrated, planned out, very simple thing.

Hecate and Nyx stared back at him. Aidoneus turned once more to leave.

“I don’t think you understand Hecate’s meaning,” Nyx began, stopping him. “We cannot pass this knowledge onto you because we don’t know what these mean. There are possibilities, but that is all they are.”

He looked at them somberly. “A shame they will remain just that, then.”

“Aidon,” Hecate said, “do you love her?”

“You know that I do,” he said softly.

I just felt so bad for him here. Because here he is, he’s quietly loved this woman for thousands of years, got a taste of what love was, and then thought he had completely fucked it all up to the moon and back. This is sort of the middle interlude for him, between that kind of ‘white light’ realization moment during their fight and when he says to Persephone in complete terms exactly how long he has loved her and will love her.

“You fought each other with hard words— and you both chose how to end that fight,” she said, folding her arms. “Neither could have happened unless she loved you just as fiercely. You believe your love compels you to send her back, and you are willing to sacrifice your every desire for her happiness, Aidoneus. But one more offering is required— your pride. Go to her.”

He loved her. Throughout all this, he loved her terribly, achingly— his passion undiminished. Since their argument he’d barely slept, not even spending time in his own bedroom, instead electing to nod off in the evening for an hour or so, slumped on his throne between the increasing number of judgments. He swiped a hand over his unshaven face. It was a marvelous contradiction. Thoughts of her tormented his waking moments relentlessly, yet he couldn’t be at peace unless she was with him. His knew his needs, but what of her? Nyx, as she was wont to do, spoke of the metaphysical, the unsubstantiated. Her revelations were about a kind of love that Persephone wouldn’t understand— Aidon could barely wrap his mind around the imagery Nyx used, most of its meaning lost to the ages.

But he knew from the moment Persephone started tracing the scars of his past, healing him far deeper than the shallow marks on his skin, that she loved him as well. For that one sublime act, Aidon was eager to spend eternity returning that affection to her. How much would they miss, how many more perfect moments would lie cold and dormant if he released her back to Demeter? He stood at the precipice, fear flooding back into him once more. What if his wife wanted to leave him, and this was all for naught? Could he convince her to stay?

And here begins the second act of the book. And once he decides to get his shit together and face Persephone, that’s when Nyx calls him Liberator again.

Aidoneus plucked a single red flower, cradling it in his hand. It was bright and warm. He nodded and carefully tucked its red petals into the folds of his himation. Pointing at solemn Nyx and a wide-grinning Hecate, he said, “I’m not doing this for either of you,” and purposefully turned on his heels to leave the grove. “Or whatever you think may come of these.”

“We should be the least of your concerns. All you see here is mutable and inconsequential,” Nyx said, sweeping her hands out at the trees. She spoke quietly to herself as Aidon walked back toward the palace. “But your beloved queen is not, Liberator. Nearly anything can be forgiven, if one is willing to open their heart completely.”

[thesaltminers]

The Curious Case of Megan Derr

Megan Derr is the co-owner of Less Than Three Press, an indie LGBTQ publishing house--and she’s also their most prolific author. Before LT3’s founding, Megan posted her slash fiction on LiveJournal and Fictionpress, epicenters of older wank that unfortunately went unrecorded.

Over the years, Megan has been embroiled in several dramas, none of which impeded LT3’s growth. When juxtaposed with similar controversies, this lack of fallout becomes curious.

Was she just Not That Bad, comparatively? Did people not care? Or had Megan's navigation of the drama de-escalate any chance at a larger blow up? We investigate.

Why does Megan matter?

As visible co-owner of a successful and award-winning LGBTQ press, Megan is officially a gatekeeper. Her personal opinions matter and her voice reflects on her business… theoretically. Of course, in the past Megan has implied she was a martyr for the community, working so hard for them, whilst neatly minimising that her profit also comes from that same community

Nonetheless, she has a direct hand in what gets published, which is her right as co-owner. LT3 proactively publishes trans, bi, ace, and other less-exposed areas of the queer spectrum.

While this is obviously wonderful in a lot of ways, LT3's prominence in this particular publishing sphere becomes concerning when you realize that Megan Derr's personal beliefs and ethics drive the majority of the publishing decisions, and thus, what representation is produced. Given her avowed dislike of #OwnVoices (which will be expanded upon further in this report) and her insistence that the subject of a genre is not the audience for that genre, the implications are troubling.

We posit that Megan skirts the line of actionable offences, but works to "poison the well" or create a toxic environment. This is more ephemeral than other infamous instances of wank, but it is a long-running pattern of behavior with real consequences for both individuals and the community as a whole.

Social Media Climate

Recently, we compiled reports on Santino Hassell and Riptide Press, the latter of whom is still attracting attention for bad decisions.

Social media is primed for another explosion. The match was lit when the Bi Book Award finalists were announced and several Twitter users took umbrage with the two competing publishers of the year: Riptide Publishing and Less Than Three Press.  

The current call out

Twitter user BrookieRayWrite reacted to the Bi Award announcement with a threaded post, which included screenshots of Megan's past behaviour. They referenced two incidents: Megan’s dislike of #OwnVoices—a movement in publishing to uplift authentic minority experiences so that people could find content they felt connected to—and her blog post declaring M/M is for women.

However, this was not the first time someone tried to call out Megan. Heidi Belleau, an author LGBTQ romance, posted a comprehensive thread in 2016.

The rest of which, can be found here.

Nothing came from this Twitter call out. But now Heidi has resurfaced with her complaints about Megan, and with her comes an old wank standby to defend Megan--Aleksandr Voinov.

Yep. He called her crazy. In case you missed it, Heidi Belleau takes on this moniker to analyze its silencing and delegitimizing function. In short, Voinov is not only being ableist, he is actively working to create a hostile landscape to voices critical of Megan Derr.

Moments of Note

“No Gay Aces”

In an incident that went unrecorded, but that we witnessed at the time, an author published a book with a character who identified as “gay ace.” Incensed, Megan declared that there was no such thing. This conflict is worthy of note because its exemplifies Megan’s confidence in her own rightness and her refusal to ever back down from a position, a character trait that shines through in following events.

However, perhaps it also showcases Megan’s reaction when she knows she’s incorrect—as of now, the conflict seems to have been scrubbed from GoodReads. We hesitate to include unsupported facts, but feel it is important in Megan Derr's case to establish her pattern of behavior, in order to examine her tactics and strategy.

“Rose Lemberg”

At the height of #OwnVoices, Megan was becoming increasingly irritated over what she interpreted as a movement to outlaw people writing outside of their identity. She replied to a Tweet by Rose Lemberg—

Apparently Megan needed a reaction, because she Tweeted at Rose twice.

Megan's interpretation of “you are not doing us a favor,” as “don’t do this,” has the unfortunate implication that she believes writing outside of her identity is doing someone a favor.

When Rose removed themself from the conversation, Megan reacted thusly:

She steamrolls over Rose's "no spoons" comment, a clear signal in the disabled community that further engagement would be literally damaging to the respondent. The fact that she ignores that signal is incredibly ableist—and if she's ignorant about that, it just shows how unprepared she is to write disabled characters, thus proving Rose's point.

After confronting Rose, and not getting the response she wanted, Megan unfollowed.

Megan apologized for misgendering Rose, and we do not believe she would intentionally misgender someone. However, it does illustrate her "shoot first" nature.

“M/M Is for Women”

Turnabout is fair play, in a sense, because Megan had her own opportunity to open a discussion and then immediately block responses to it.

Megan lobbed quite the cannonball across the community’s bow with this fascinating retort against white cis gay men, prompted by a gay man who had called out the M/M genre for its fetishism of its subjects. Out of all her altercations, this one may be the most ill-advised (in a PR sense). It is also one where she found her audience not only unreceptive, but actively accusatory.

Whatever her point may have been, Megan said M/M wasn’t for gay men. Yes, Yaoi, BL, and slash fic was, on the surface level, fueled initially by a female audience. Yes, they fall under different genre conventions than the works of EM Forster and other literary authors. But there’s something undeniably and offensively entitled about declaring ownership of a genre over the actual subject of that genre.

When Megan felt that people were ignoring her reasoning unfairly, she shut down comments.

Friend/Colleague Exodus

If one were to casually take note of the comings and goings of Megan’s friends and colleagues, they may notice a gradual change in the cast of characters. The common denominator of this situation, of course, is Megan. There is a track record of Megan and her sister, Sam, saying oddly misguided and downright offensive comments to their authors, usually trans authors, at which point the relationship is ended and the author quietly moves on.

Water off a duck’s back

People in Megan’s sphere have probably noted that, controversy after controversy, nothing sticks. Even after years of wanky drama all throughout M/M’s history, with the inevitable apologies and flounces from the authors and readers at the center of each crisis, Megan keeps on trucking. The question is, what makes her different?

Leaving the realm of screenshots and facts, there’s only theory to go on. For instance, maybe the conflicts Megan faces are small enough, and far enough apart, that no one can exactly put into words why they think she should be called out. Or perhaps the people who dislike her realize some hypocrisy would come with accusing her of something. (Those in glass houses, etc.)

From a more practical angle, she almost never apologizes. Typically, the subjects of wank quibble, apologize several times, and release statements. Megan usually just posts a few accusatory tweets and then moves on after blocking anyone who could possibly question her worldview.

As evidenced by the more recent wanks, there is generally tangible evidence of harm with multiple victims stepping forward to detail their abuse. However, this takes years and momentum for this to occur. We know that Megan has her share of victims as well, and we know that they have experienced mental and emotional harm that has had real impact on their ability to work. Yet if people were to inspect why they don’t like her, would they only find several blog posts and Tweets that are abrasive and tone-deaf?

Her Modus Operandi has always been to aggressively confront someone she disagrees with (ex. Rose Lemberg) and then flounce/block when she’s challenged. Mirroring that, when someone confronts or disagrees with her, she immediately shuts down discussion (ex. M/M is for Women blog post).

As the co-owner of LT3, she also partly controls the narrative of indie LGBTQ publishing. Her choices and attitude influence the community tone and acceptable in-group culture, and, arguably, add toxicity. However, to pin down specific instances (and therefore confront and address them), is incredibly difficult—which is possibly why every call out thus far has dwindled without fanfare.  

In Summation

The overarching, and fascinating, truth about Megan is sometimes she makes sense. Unfortunately, she also says a lot of bullshit. This may come from a lack of ability to grasp nuance.

Does #OwnVoices put pressure on people to out their life circumstances for the sake of credibility? Probably, yes. But others feel confident in self-reporting, wanting their voices out there for others to hear them. Do people mispronounce white people’s names? Yes. But that doesn’t negate the racist undertones and microaggressions minorities face when people mock their names. These, among other situations, are odd hills Megan chooses to die on seemingly because she doesn’t want to understand them.

The current call out is in reaction to the Bi Awards. Certain authors have stepped forward to Tweet their protest of LT3's nomination. They argue that Megan, as the owner of LT3, has promoted an environment that does harm to bi voices, and they feel it is inappropriate for her to be celebrated in this specific context.

The situation is still developing. From here, we can see only two branching paths. Either those running the Bi Awards rescind LT3's nomination, or they do not.

But this event is dredging up old salt. As with any wank, one is left wondering what the conclusion should be; Exile? Apology? Loss of sales? What does a successful call out look like? Megan is a real person with a wife and a business that she has worked hard to develop. She publishes minority representation because she believes in that effort.

But her belief does not exculpate her.

She has managed to repeatedly dodge accountability. Whether this is through calculated tactics or a magical formula she managed to stumble upon doesn't change the fact that she has actively contributed to making the community hostile to marginalized people. It doesn't change the fact that her status as a major publisher among LGBTQIA online presses shields her, especially as those who would ordinarily call her out for bad behavior must hesitate and consider the economic ramifications of doing so.

Now, to guess what Megan might pull from this to deflect responding to the salient points? Probably that we mentioned her mom voted for Trump.

Interesting links: 

Heidi

http://archive.is/Aio1f

http://archive.li/1IknD

http://archive.li/SsQ41

Maria_Reads

http://archive.li/zPqGa

http://archive.li/kCInK

[aion-rsa]

Star Wars KOTOR: The PS5 Exclusive Sony Needed

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

We heard rumors that Sony’s PlayStation Showcase was going to be a big event, but we never imagined that they would kick off the show by confirming that the long-awaited Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic remake from developer Aspyr will be a timed PS5 exclusive.

Yes, in case you haven’t heard, Aspyr is not only taking on the tall task of remaking BioWare’s beloved 2003 RPG (and the greatest Star Wars game ever made) Knights of the Old Republic, but Lead Producer Ryan Treadwell has since confirmed that the game will be a “console exclusive on PlayStation 5 at launch.”

We’ll have to wait and see whether or not that very specific wording means that the remake will be released on PC at the same time, but based on that wording, we can seemingly confirm that the KOTOR remake will not be released for PS4 and will not be available at launch on any other console for an unspecified period of time (likely 6 months, the standard timed exclusivity window).

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

That’s a lot to take in, but the first thing that has to be said is that this is an incredibly smart acquisition on Sony’s part as it gives the PS5 the exclusive game it needed most.

Coming out of E3, we talked about how Xbox’s focus on upcoming RPGs directly targeted the biggest weakness in the PlayStation lineup. While there were some PlayStation RPGs on the horizon, it didn’t seem like Sony was in a position to immediately compete with games such as Starfield, Avowed, and The Elder Scrolls VI.

Now, though, PlayStation 5 gamers can look forward to what you could easily consider one of the most anticipated RPG remakes in the last 15 years. There’s a lot to be said about whether or not Aspyr can possibly remake KOTOR in a way that will live up to such incredible expectations (and we’ll have a few words to share on that topic ourselves), but for right now, that doesn’t matter. Right now, what matters most is that Sony just gave those RPG fans who came out of E3 leaning heavily towards investing in an Xbox at least a reason to hesitate and reconsider the benefits of the PS5. At the very least, it now seems like you’ll need to own a PS5 if you want to play all the biggest upcoming RPGs in the next few years.

More importantly, Sony chose to pursue an upcoming RPG that just so happens to be associated with one of the biggest properties in the world. The PlayStation brand is incredibly strong, and when you pair that brand with a major new upcoming Star Wars game…well, it’s easy enough to imagine how Sony can use this to continue the PS5’s record-setting sales streak.

The fact that the KOTOR remake isn’t coming to PS4 is a bit curious, but based on what we know so far, it sounds like this game will not be released for quite some time. That hopefully means you might actually be able to buy a PS5 by the time the KOTOR remake is released, but given that recent estimates suggest the shortages could last until 2023, we’re going to have to wait and see how that plays out.

The post Star Wars KOTOR: The PS5 Exclusive Sony Needed appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[4jaye]

Shadowhunters- 2x13

Those of Demon Blood

Wow and wow again. It was a fabulously executed episode. The general theme was on point and I love how our musketeers are starting to be independent thinkers who are not only cognizant of prejudices and phobias within the 'institution' but are (slowly) becoming agents of change--with a little help from their mundane friends.  I'm especially proud of Alec--yeah that's right, and the reason for that particular emotion is no secret! What a glorious journey we have witnessed (so far) with him. From a reserved, uptight, by the book 'soldier' to this man who is now (to use urban vernacular)--woke! This relationship with Magnus has affected him in the best way possible. He's (should I say they're) stronger for it and Alec is in tune with and accepting of who he is. That his feelings matter and are important and whole. That he now has a purposeful life--one that includes his 'work' for sure, but also one that now includes a very important emotional component--that elusive work -life balance. Is it me or does he seem more confident? Of course Malec isn't the only elemental story in the series. Izzy, Clary, Jace, Sebastian, Simon, Luke, Raphael etc are critical as well, but they sometimes become invisible to the potentiality of the 'power couple' that is Malec. So in this episode...Simon sings, Clary is protective and preaching truths about prejudice. Izzy is healing and being bad ass once again. Jace is learning, Luke is a voice of reason and Maia is feisty as f!ck! Kudos to Raphael for being a stand up guy. Max is quite the handful though--trouble ahead with this one. I loved hearing Simon's Historical Nazi story and I loved how he stood up to both Clary's request for DNA and the orders to leave a wounded Clary. I was all up into Maia's outrage about the chip implant and was equally impressed when she mentioned the 'profiling' issue--DWB--detainment while [being] Black. Yes, proud as a peacock that she went there. Gotta say the hook up with Jace? Didn't see that coming. Hot? yes. Necessary? Dunno. But it points out once again the inequality in depiction of Malec's relationship when it comes to sexual scenes. More on this in a bit. The fact that the killings and mutilation was done by a rogue Seelie wasn't the point to the story. It was a distraction really, but it became the catalyst to elicit and highlight the Clave's rigidity and phobia. I suppose it was also a sort of wake up call for Jace as much as it showcased the metal  Alec is made of. Jace said it best   Alec's a leader and he--a warrior It's clear that Mag is suffering from PTSD. From putting on his 'face due to boredom' (what High Warlock gets bored? certainly not this one) to drinking to excess. His tipsy but magical dancing with Dot was delightful to watch even as there was a touch of sadness about it--not the physicality of the dance itself, but the reason for it (with Dot) in the first place. Yet there's that selfish part of me that was excited to see Mag (Harry) dance regardless of the circumstance. BTW who knew Mag and Dot had a thing? And damn straight he's a sexy as hell warlock Dot. What came out of this little history lesson however is that Magnus is loyal, single minded-ly focused on the man he loves--Alec. Music to my ear and smile to my lips. The welcome scene between Alec and Magnus was adorable. Alec or Magnus' Alexander was kinda star struck (for lack of a better term) upon seeing his lover dressed to the nines. Loved his surprised look and loved his comment/compliment even more. Loved his bounce and surprise at the Magnus initiated soft kiss. And absolutely adored Alexander's "I'm here with the High warlock of Brooklyn" statement though it became a bitter sweet exchange as the tone quickly turned to what could only be termed as a huge faux pas by Alec. Well intention-ed or not, the timing of the 'favor' was unfortunate. Asking your lover for a DNA sample on the heels of his own violation is not an appropriate move. It speaks to the issue of trust, one which, at this particular time in the relationship is fragile. The thing is, appropriate or not, this is something that limited thinking, duty-ingrained, left brain thinking Alec would do. Bless the boy, but he's a bit lacking in social skills, much less romantic finesse. Was I upset that he did that? yes. As upset as Magnus? probably not, because apart from the inappropriateness of the question there must have been a sense of disappointment on Magnus' part. Not only in Alec's biopic views but also in his dismissal or inability to heed the 'call' of his 'gut instinct', instead falling into the pattern of this mindless, sheep-like purpose that robs him of his own agency to be honest. Plus, the idea of repeating history so close to his last gut feeling dismissal must have been heart breaking for Mag to witness. Yet, a set up where there is tension creates drama--a needed component I guess for any relationship--reel or real. I get that--may not like it, but I understand it's necessity. In the last Malec scene, Alec walks into his and Magnus' PH with remorse to say..."you were right". I'm sure Mag was not feeling a sense of vindication here, but instead what he heard was his lover saying words that must have lifted his spirit and melted his heart--it sure as hell did mine. Alec's words were simple yet heavy in soulfulness and intimacy. They are worth repeating..."You never have to prove anything to me Magnus, I love you" The soft kiss (albeit short in length) was appreciated for what it was. An affirmation--a pledge, a covenant, a pronouncement and avowal of  love. As for my shallow needs to behold this couple in wholly bed/sex scene--it's there. Full blown and expectant. I'm not asking for porn (though if...um  never mind). What I am asking for is a consummation of a promise. A promise made by the writers who created this couple and writers who have created romantic pairing through book and motion picture history, to somehow have explicit wording or scenes when lovers physically consummate their love.  It's something that is the norm and Alec and Magnus ought not to be the exception. I like show and tell. You don't wanna show me kissing in bed? Show me afterglow. Show me hand holding--anything. Don't wanna do that? Though I think showing is better (especially for this gem of a couple) then tell me something dammit. Lemme hear them tell me about their night in bed or some other tongue service..ahem. Am I grateful for all the casual domesticity? Damn straight I am, but they leave me wanting....more.