#you treated me like i was disposal the last time we talked and I've never been angrier at you.

[quietblissxx]

.

[discocandles]

I haven't talked about my babysitter's a vampire in a bit, but it's october, so i have no excuse(or every excuse. whatever). this show impacted me a lot.

In mbav, i feel like vampirism is treated a bit differently than in other supernatural media. and maybe that's because its for a younger audience that a lot of other vampire media, aiming for pre-teens rather than actual teenagers and young adults. From what i remember of buffy, vampires aren't people anymore. The person dies when they get turned and are left as like demons, i think? its been a while since i last saw btvs. When turned into a vampire in mbav, you still retain your personality for the most part. there's just also vampire quirks next to it. and don't ask about the vampire diaries, i've never wached it.

like we only see people get turned in the mbav movie, and while we never see what Sarah was like as a human, we get a few ideas from erica, and it's not like she's unrecognizable after being turned(into a fledgling, but beside the point), just acting kinda weird and distant. Rory also doesnt act super different when turned, but almost made this whole post about him, and i have a theory about why he barely changed that i'll get into later. Erica's change was pretty dramatic but given the fact that the main thing the movie told us about her personality before being turned was her obsession with the dusk franchise it was pretty easy for her to have a dramatic change, and she still has elements of the girl she was before that come through from time to time, especially in season 2.

I think people don't change a lot when turned in mbav because they has a bigger sense of freedom to do whatever they want to due to all the power they now have at their disposal. We see this more in the show, because of the need to defeat Jesse takes precedent in the movie. In a lot of Erica's s1 plotlines, she's doing things because she's "hot now", or didn't have the courage to do, or just because she wants to. And with Rory, part of the reason he didn't change all that much is because prior to being turned, he already did whatever he wanted, and his wants are more aligned with publicly being a nerd rather getting more power. Like in the movie, he talked about his interests with Ethan and Benny, but as a vampire he's broadcasting those interests in the hallways in addition to that.

Sarah is a bit of a different case, especially as a fledgling, because she feels held back by her vampirism rather than her humanity. The thing Sarah wants is one of the few things her vampiric powers can't do: go away. she sees them as a shackle instead of as freeing. and she acts like a normal human should act like to cope, trying out for sports and getting a job or two. Scarfing down human food to stave off her bloodthirst. But in season 2, when she's fully a vampire, we see her sense of doing whatever she wants pop up a few times. it happens a lot in episode 1, when she dunks VP Hicks in the trash can, and especially when she's resistant to the Vampire Counsil. We also see her join activities that she's actually interested in, similar to Rory being even more outward about his interests after being turned. she joins the talent show and the school play, and she starts dating again. ironically, i think that's pretty similar to things she would've done as a human. hell, we even see her being best friends with Erica again, which hadn't happened since before Jesse turned her.

and speaking of getting turned, vampirism started as an allegory for like, losing your virginity before getting married. and it's not really present as a metaphor in the show(again, made for pre-teens), but there are a few moments that it's hinted at. Like Rory calling his vampire bite a "wicked hickey" or Erica leaving a bedroom with Gord looking really disheveled. It's the closest to a legitimate allegory with Sarah and Jesse, because the way he phrased him turning her into a fledgling is very very similar to that of sexual assault. it's very clear that Sarah did not consent to being turned, even if Jesse was her boyfriend at the time. its less an allegory for loss of virginity and more one for the importance of giving consent, and even then, it's not that exact of a metaphor.

away from that, also interesting is how different Erica is from Rory and Sarah. there were hints of her desire to rebel in the beginning("if i had a hot boyfriend, i'd totally ditch class too. what? i would!"), but they feel understated after everything she does after being turned. while in the movie, it's because she was one of Jesse's followers, but her morals also skew towards the gray area in the show, sometimes having Rory as a henchman to have do her bidding/hep her. it could be attributed to her vampirism, except the fact that Sarah and Rory don't often share that muted sense of morality is odd, especially since she was introduced as a straight As good girl that's really into canon's twilight. And in season 2, we see she still has some of her nerdy aspects in there that she's hiding, like when she geeks out to Ethan that the star of dusk is in town, or her chemistry knowledge, or her following instructions for vampire rituals on halloween. also, the way she acted around David in the werewolf episode seemed to call back to her nerdier side. idk it just fascinates me the ways that erica acts, because she will wholeheartedly do things that are at least kinda questionable morally, but hesitates when it feels nerdy or sees the guys are also doing it.

anyway, those were some of my thoughts mbav that i've kinda just had in the back of my mind.

[cainluvr69]

Surely, We Can Make Miracles Chapter 2

Previous Chapter

Northern Citizen: When it comes to wizards… They're the only reason we can live in the North, with its harsh nature and strong spirits. I'm grateful to them from the very bottom of my heart… I hope they never abandon us.

✦✧☾✧✦

Western Citizen: Wizards? Magic is soooo old-fashioned! Now we're in the era of magical technology! Just take a look through my shop! Here's a toy made with magical science that lets you produce sparks with just a snap of your fingers! Just put a mana stone in here, and…tada! It's not a magical item, so there's no dangerous curse on it! It's practically a steal!

✦✧☾✧✦

Eastern Citizen: …What's with you…huh? …You want ask me about wizards? … …I don't know much about them, so you should ask someone else. And… …Talking to people you don't know is expressly forbidden on this street. …Be more careful.

✦✧☾✧✦

Southern Citizen: Wizards? We've got a few in town! They're all wonderful people! They're always helpin' us out with their magic! Last time, I gave them some butter as thanks! Our butter's delicious, you know! This country's still developing, so we all work together and help one another out! Tornadoes are way scarier than wizards. Just a while ago, one blew away our shed!

✦✧☾✧✦

And wizards' opinions on humans are also quite varied. Country, age, and personality all influenced them.

Riquet: Humans lack the strange power that we do. That is the chosen ones have a great responsibility to guide them.

Cain: What do you mean by "chosen ones"?

Riquet: The pastor of the church I was raised in, and our very own Prince Arthur.

Arthur: I haven't been chosen, or anything like that. I'm just descended from a lineage with a lot of political power.

Riquet: But you're still a wonderful person who regards both wizards and humans equally, without any arrogance in your heart.

Arthur: That's something anyone could do, not only princes.

Riquet: Cain can't do it. He treats everyone equally during the daylight hours, but excludes me once night falls.

Cain: I'm not trying to exclude you from anything. I just think it's a little too early for you to be joining adult conversations.

Oz: … Regarding these adult conversations…

Cain: Don't worry. Arthur doesn't get to join them, either.

Arthur: Even though it's fine for me to join in.

Oz: You are too young for them.

Cain: Shouldn't we be worrying about the fact that Oz doesn't join in on adult conversations first? I mean, you're two thousand years old. You should join us next time.

Oz: …

Riquet: Oz. Join their discussions and report back to me about what they're about.

Arthur: Tell me about them too, Lord Oz.

Riquet: Anyways, we have an obligation to lead those who lack the mysterious power we have down the right path. We must spare no effort in our dedication to this task.

✦✧☾✧✦

Mithra: Humans? Well, I suppose I like them.

Owen: Liar.

Bradley: Man, don't start telling lies about this. I've never heard any stories about Mithra of the North and humans…that had happy endings, at least.

Painting Snow: Now, now. Let's finish hearing him out.

Painting White: You said you like humans, Mithra?

Mithra: Although I don't remember where… When I was a ferryman, I had the job of ferrying human corpses across the lake. I liked being a ferryman.

Owen: I've heard about that, and it sounds like the most boring job in the world. You were just being made to dispose of corpses.

Mithra: Sigh…

Owen: What's that look for.

Mithra: I was thinking about how stupid you are.

Owen: Excuse me? Do you want me to kill you?

Mithra: Anyways, as I was saying, there was a human settlement around there, and this place here was the land of the dead. When one of them died, they'd load the body onto my boat and then summon me. And then I would take the boat to the land of the dead. See. Doesn't that sound fun?

Owen: Not in the slightest.

Bradley: Haha. So Mithra's customers were all dead humans. And he was the only one alive in the land of the dead, yeah?

Mithra: …

Painting Snow: Being alone as a child in such a lonely place must have led to many quiet days.

Painting White: Though it was for funeral purposes, you must have been happy to have had humans beckon you to their side. Weren't you, Mithra dear?

Mithra: Sigh… I never said that. Anyway, humans die, so I like them.

✦✧☾✧✦

Chloe: To be honest, I'm still a little scared of humans. I'm always worried they'll start to hate me once they find out I'm a wizard.

Rustica: But everyone loves you once they get to know you, Chloe. Because you are a truly lovely person.

Chloe: Ehehe… Thank you, Rustica. But after they find out that I'm a wizard, it's harder to get people to want to know me as a person. I wish that people who hate wizards could see me as Chloe the tailor instead of Chloe the wizard. Like, you know what I mean?

Shylock: My, how very philosophical of you.

Chloe: Murr taught me some stuff! About cognition and psychology and stuff like that. Like, how to interpret how other people think of me.

Shylock: …You talked about philosophy with Murr? Are you quite alright?

Chloe: I'm a-okay! But talking to Murr about philosophy was kind of scary, to be honest… But it was also really interesting! Listening to Murr taught me so much about so many things. How can I put it… It was like he was happy that I wanted to learn.

Shylock: Murr has always been an academic at heart. He has always welcomed those who love to learn, and those with naturally curious hearts. Murr, be a dear and come here. Could you tell me everything you talked about with Chloe?

Murr: You don't need to know that!

Shylock: And why not?

Murr: Because you already know it! You don't need words to understand it! You've listened to as many people as there are stars in the sky over the long years you've spent watching over this bar, and touched each and every one of their lives. You know exactly how you look to others. And you know how to look that way, too. You indulge in pleasure and displeasure as much as you want to. With little more than how you move your fingers, where your line of sight falls, how your tone of voice sounds--with even just a single gesture or change in mannerism, you can pluck on the heartstrings of other people and draw them close to you…or push them away. You let people approach and draw back like waves on a beach. I don't have aaaanything to say to someone who's already such a master of interpersonal connections!

Chloe: Wow…! You're amazing, Shylock! But I never expected any less!

Rustica: There's a very good reason everyone finds themselves so taken with you!

Shylock: Fufu… You only ever praise me reluctantly, Murr. What mischief have you gotten yourself up to this time?

Murr: The raisins you were drying out were really tasty, so I ate them!

Shylock: Oh, how cruel… And I was so looking forward to eating them tonight.

Murr: I didn't eat all of them! I was just feeling like a snack, that's all! I made sure to leave some!

Shylock: Then let us share them with everyone.

Chloe: Wah…! Sounds good! I totally get why Murr would want some for a snack!

Rustica: I believe wine would suit them better than tea.

Shylock: Oh, but of course.

Murr: Are you mad?

Shylock: I am not. Now then, shall we all enjoy ourselves again this fine evening?

Murr & Chloe & Rustica: Cheers!

✦✧☾✧✦

Heathcliff: I'm…pretty shy, so… I'm not good with anyone, human or wizard, that I don't already know…

Nero: Yeah, I totally get it.

Heathcliff: It's not that I dislike them or anything like that. It has less to do with who I'm talking to and more with myself… I get worried about if I'm responding to things the way I'm supposed to…

Shino: Of course you are. You're already perfect, Heath. Just look at Faust. He's supposed to be the instructor for us Eastern wizards, but he just bluntly hates humans in general.

Faust: And?

Heathcliff: Shino, don't be rude.

Shino: I wasn't being rude. I was complimenting you.

Heathcliff: …I'm always happy to get compliments from you, but…

Shino: Yeah. Getting a compliment from you always makes me happier than anything, too. You're the son of the East's illustrious House Blanchett and one of the Sage's chosen wizards, after all. Anyone can tell you're beautiful just looking at you, you're smart, and you're always polite. You're almost too perfect to be real. It only takes half a second to fall for you.

Nero: The Blanchett servant's as obsessed with his beloved master as always today. It's kind of refreshing, somehow.

Faust: Even though he's using a nickname for him, there'll always be that bit of distance, huh.

Heathcliff: … You know, I've thought about this before, but the things Shino compliments me on are things that could be about anyone, not just me.

Shino: What are you talking about?

Heathcliff: It's not like being born to the Blanchett family is something I had to work for… The same goes for my appearance, and it's only because I was given the opportunity that I was taught how to properly compose myself as a noble and receive an extensive education… And even my home is something that my parents gave to me.

Shino: Th…

Heathcliff: You never compliment me for anything on the inside. Even though you say I'm too timid and should be more bold…

Shino: There's no way that's true! Right?!

Nero: Don't ask me!

Heathcliff: If I hadn't been born to the family that I was, if I didn't look the way that I do… Would there even be anything about me that you like, Shino? I worry about that sometimes.

Shino: But…

Nero: There's no way that's true! C'mon, Shino! Tell Heath everything else you love about him!

Shino: I… Uh…

Nero: Hello?!

Heathcliff: …See.

Faust: You're a naturally kind person. You're skilled at using your hands, and you're very tenacious. You try to keep a broad outlook on things, too.

Heathcliff: Mr. Faust…

Shino: That! That's what I wanted to say! I just couldn't get it out…

Heathcliff: Oh, I bet.

Shino: I mean it…!!! You know I'm stupid, Heath!!

Nero: Knock it off, Shino! Just stop talking!

Faust: The reason you lack decisiveness is because you try to take the circumstances and standings of the people around you into account as much as you can. Where a normal person might consider ten possibilities, you consider a hundred. I imagine that's why you find it so tiring to be around people for long. And no matter who you are, I'm proud to have you as my student. I don't think I'd have ever considered teaching anyone magic if I'd never met you. Thank you for letting me be someone who could be a good influence, despite being a curseworker who hates the world.

Heathcliff: …Mr. Faust…

Shino: Get your hands off my master, you misanthrope shut-in!

Nero: That's your followup?!

Heathcliff: Thank you so much… I'm really happy to hear you say that…

Shino: Heath! I feel the same way…

Heathcliff: … Uh-huh…

Shino: …! Fine, whatever! It's not like I--! ….Mmgghh…!

Nero: There, there, it's quiet time now. Now, now, don't start cryin' on me.

Shino: Mmmggghhh…!

Nero: Uh-huh, yep, you're not crying even a little bit. Ow…! Don't freakin' bite me!

✦✧☾✧✦

Lennox: How I feel about humans…?

Figaro: Do you even have any feelings about them at all, Leno? Regardless of if who you're talking to is human or wizard, male or female, or what country they're from… You're so bad at handling them, I swear you liked that sheepdog you used to have more than you like me.

Lennox: Huh…? Is that a bad thing…?

Figaro: Man, are you hearing this guy?

Lennox: I mean, it's my dog.

Figaro: I was thinking that between myself and a dog that only knows how to herd sheep the scales would be tilted in my favor, but I see how it is… …That's true love…

Mitile: Have you been drinking, Dr. Figaro?

Rutile: That would be my fault. The Rheita Mountains are cold, so I put a little alcohol into Dr. Figaro's tea, and into my own.

Mitile: What?! When did you do that?!

Figaro: Oh, and that was supposed to be our little secret. But that's not enough to get me drunk, you know.

Mitile: But, the way you were talking about Leno just now, was kind of…

Lennox: Maybe you never noticed, Mitile, but Dr. Figaro talks about me like that pretty often. And it's not like I have a problem with it. It's fine with me, really.

Figaro: But it'd be more fine if I was your dog.

Mitile: The world of adulthood seems complicated…

Rutile: Don't worry, Mitile. I put snow ginger in your tea and in Leno's! I dried it myself! This way, all of us can stay nice and warm! Cheers!

Figaro: Cheers!

Mitile: Jeez… You don't say cheers about regular tea. If you're saying it, it means you think it's like alcohol, and that means you're drunk. Isn't that right, Leno?

Lennox: Yes. I think so, too.

Rutile & Figaro: Ehehe!

Lennox: Well, as long as they don't try to ride their brooms while under the influence, we can stay at a cottage I built in these mountains overnight.

Mitile: Did the two of you live here?

Lennox: Hm?

Mitile: Both you and your sheepdog.

Lennox: Yes, we did.

Rutile: What did you name it?

Lennox: Courir.

Rutile: Wah, how cute! I wish I could've met it. Did you ever get to see it, Dr. Figaro?

Figaro: Yeah, I did. The two of you got along great.

Lennox: We did. I loved that dog even more than you think I did. Maybe even…the most out of anything in the world.

Figaro: Really?

Lennox: Yes. I have someone I would dedicate my life for. But if he wanted me to, I would've thrown away everything for him. But I don't think I could've thrown away my days with Courir so easily.

Rutile: How wonderful… Your lives must have been lovely, living out in nature's splendor like this.

Lennox: Yes.

Mitile: If you couldn't understand each other's words, how did you make sure of how each of you felt?

Lennox: Hmm… We just understood by looking at each other. We could look into each other's eyes and see what was in there, be it fear, or anger… And that doesn't just go for dogs. The same goes for wizards and humans. We all have hearts somewhere inside… And we use our words and voices to represent our hearts. A dog's barking and howling is the same as that. Though we do tell lies sometimes. But the eyes can let us see someone's true colors. Is someone calm, or are they acting weirdly energetic, and so on…

Mitile: …Do you know what's in my heart, too?

Lennox: I do. Just a general image, though. As long as I don't get that outline wrong, then it's fine.

There are so many different kinds of humans and wizards in the world.

Next Chapter

[unproduciblesmackdown]

i feel like you would have really fascinating takes on the transformers franchise if that was ever something something you got into (meant as complimentary. kind of inspired by the fast and furious zine you talk abt every now and then tho in tf case its much more transgender in the comics (kind of in transformers one as well?) than the live action verse. asia kate dillon in a transformers movie when...) sorry if this is random as hell :]

oh thank you, this ask is a treat to randomly get, fun insight on that connection & my theoretical fascinating takes is [takes the compliment] rn lol

i've never directly experienced any transformers franchise media besides Knowing Of It while existing concurrently with it on this earth, gleaned a tiny bit of info but any like. lol here we go: transformative &/or just fan analysis / discussion worlds are pretty entirely unknown to me, but i guess i both already assume & am distantly aware of like queer fanbase existing lol & like you really have to deconstruct ideas about sexuality & gender if you're dealing with stuff like alien robots fucking, i'm sure two trucks having sex has to be a thing for transformers fans more than even the average tumblr user. which like now that you've sent this idea connecting it to Fast & Furious: Transgender Style like i'm sure just as that is kind of an uphill battle (at least seemingly) to fix a trans lens on, like, well it's an uphill battle i'm sure if some transformer fan ships the transformers but has to draw mechs about it. however, "trans" is right in the name. just like on real, regular trucks sometimes

also like genuinely maybe you should pitch "trans / queer input on the transformers franchise" to https://www.girldadpress.com/contact as an idea for a potential upcoming anthology work again, like the first zine being that "all trans contributors doing works about the fast & furious franchise" (which i could contribute to without having ever seen any movies or knowing anything besides what was from the one relevant video game we watched a playthrough of on youtube. while also not being the only contributor who had never seen anything fast & furious / didn't know much / didn't particularly like it lol) & the anthology in progress right now being queer contributors doing works about the sex & the city franchise, which i also know nothing about, except maybe making the connection about the funny unlikely "and just like that" making billions have to quickly edit in some voiceover into an episode, & then i start talking actually about being the queer trans "also not a fan, also haven't even actually seen this" about billions lmao But. that'd be in writing so we can imagine a sprawling [just me complaining / analyzing a whole different media] all while like, i'm not the Wrong Audience billionswatcher with that insight + writing skill combo (that would be nothingunrealistic)

anyway they Are open to input / ideas like that lol & i didn't have any ideas to offer but like why not send it in? & then maybe eventually you could have a zine of fascinating takes on the transformers franchise. i really enjoyed the full 2 trans 2 furious zine as someone who barely already knew anything, so probably if i Did know shit it'd only be an enhanced experience.

asia kate dillon in the last(?) fast & furious movie, in a transformers movie sure, in Anything, anywhere in their range from Striking, Intense Presence to funny little guy (highest honor)

(bonus: from following a few blogs for cats (jellicle) (have been meaning to like watch the '98 proshot but haven't actually yet. know a bit & respect it / like it on principle / like it distantly b/c like Yeah Sure but again another thing i don't know much about. one time my costume for a show i was in was very cats style, which is great. unfortunately don't have access to any of the disposable camera vlogging pics i took. it was purple & i did my own face makeup whee) i see things about Starlight Express, the andrew lloyd webber musical about trains & their train contest & it's done on rollerskates & i also know basically nothing but it's, you know, people As Train Units in costumes that like at a glance are kind of giving transformers(tm) b/c how could it not, really. this is like my main trainsformers (keeping that typo, sure) thing to offer rn)

[shwoo]

Day 31 of @flooftober! Thanks a lot to everyone who read/interacted, and especially @flooftyfizzlebeans for creating the challenge, and saying such nice things about these stories.

I would also like to thank antihistamines. They really... anted those histamines. And unclouded my brain a little.

Anyway, this story involves Gramble, and I'm using both the "Trick" and "Treat" prompts. Also it's double length since it's the last one. I considered making it much longer, but my brain's not quite that unclouded.

(Prompt list)

Title: Has many discipline-specific uses Summary: Floofty notices a sleepwalking Gramble about to make a mistake. (Also on AO3)

.

Floofty had released what was happening too late, and Gramble was too far away. They yelled "Wake up!" as they crossed the rest of the distance.

Gramble opened his eyes all the way. "Wh…" He noticed the Grapeskeeto in his hands, which were raised to his mouth. "Ah! Igrapetius!" He lowered his arms and hugged it, as it struggled.

"One of your pets, I assume?" said Floofty. They hadn't seen it get out, but these days, any loose Snak generally belonged to Gramble.

Gramble jumped. "Floofty?! Why're you here?" Floofty wasn't good at judging tone, but they knew suspicion when they heard it.

"As we both reside in the same town, I assume you are asking why am I in this particular spot at this particular time," said Floofty. "I merely observed you come across this Grapeskeeto in your sleep, and prepare to eat it. Knowing your views on this subject, I awoke you before any consumption could occur."

They were too tired to bother trying baby language. Gramble would just have to take what he could understand. Maybe he'd end up being yet another Grumpus who turned out to be smarter than they looked.

"You… saved Igrapetius?" said Gramble. He looked down at the Grapeskeeto in his arms. "I… I didn't know you cared… But why were you watching me in the middle of the night in the first place?"

"I often watch you," said Floofty. They knew Gramble might find that creepy, but that was his problem, because they weren't actually being creepy. "There is precious little else of interest occurring at this time of night."

Gramble didn't run away screaming, but he did frown. "A-are you running some kind of experiment on me, Floofty? Wait. Are you the reason I've been so tired lately?"

Floofty's tired brain took a second to catch up to what was happening now. "What? Your sleep difficulties are clearly the result of stress! I, too, am prone to sleep difficulties. Believe me, I would much prefer to be asleep in my hut right now. Alas, my brain chemistry will not allow it."

"Oh, you just can't sleep?" said Gramble. "I guess I have been a little stressed lately, what with having so many little ones to take care of, and Wambus, and I still got a couple Grumpuween decorations to finish…"

"What?" said Floofty. "Grumpuween already?" Last they'd checked, it had been July. That meant they'd already missed their birthday.

"Um, yeah, it's tomorr--" Gramble looked up at the sky. "Today," he corrected himself. "Wiggle's been real excited, and I thought… Maybe I could knit some little Fryders, or some bats, and hang them up around town. I dunno if the little ones would appreciate it, but I think the others might…?"

Floofty didn't know why he was asking them. "Potentially." They decided they might as well tell him what they did know. "I, at least, would be… disposed toward that concept." They'd always really liked the idea that boundaries between the living and the dead were thin at this time of year, although it was obviously not plausible from a scientific view.

"Y-you would?" said Gramble. He squeezed his Grapeskeeto. "Just goes to show. You never know what someone's gonna like until you talk to them!"

"Yes, I am beginning to see that," said Floofty. If Gramble had seriously believed that Floofty might be experimenting on him without his consent, then it was surprising that he hadn't expected them to like Grumpuween. Maybe they could lean into that. "Perhaps I, too, will create some seasonal decoration," they added, "if my work allows. Yes, some fake blood, perhaps some green lights inside test tubes… It may be quite entertaining."

"Ooh, the more the merrier!" said Gramble. "Just so long as the blood is fake." He almost laughed.

"I shall make every effort to ensure that it is," said Floofty. Gramble had sounded like he was about to laugh, so he was probably joking. Apparently that was something he could do, sometimes.

[nellie-elizabeth]

What We Do in the Shadows: The Roast (5x08)

Oh my god, this was an AMAZING episode.

Cons:

I feel bad for continuing to harp on this, but The Guide continues to feel like such a wasted character! I like the performance, I don't think it has to be this way, there could be some really funny stuff here! But instead it's the same joke again and again. It's like she's the Jerry from Parks and Rec or the Toby from The Office. But this show didn't really need that, they're all a bunch of losers, and there's already the vampires treating Guillermo like he's disposable to fall back on as a joke? I don't know. She had plot relevance this week, but it feels like we could have done this without her.

Pros:

Lazlo's ennui was really funny, the way he keeps dismissing everyone's attempt to snap him out of it... one of the funniest exchanges was right at the top, when Nadja and Nandor were talking about Lazlo lacking interest in his old hobbies: Nadja - "We are down to like sixteen fucks a week." / Nandor - "We're down to three". And Nadja reaches out and puts a hand on Nandor's arm, in horror and sympathy to hear something so terrible! That really made me laugh.

Honestly, this episode was laughs all the way through, I can't even pick favorite lines from everyone. But I loved Colin's failed roast of Lazlo, I loved Nadja saying that maybe dying wouldn't be so bad, and Nandor being like "wtf" and then Nadja being like "I've just been going through a lot lately."

The main plot here is that the Baron discovers that Guillermo was the one who accidentally burned him up a few years ago, and he wants revenge. As ridiculous as all the antics were, I was also genuinely moved by Nadja and Nandor both begging for Guillermo's life and trying to dissuade the Baron. But at the same time, they're all worried about Guillermo killing the Baron, because he's the origin of their line of vampires, and his vampire descendants might die as well! What a fun and twisted web of allegiances. Guillermo doesn't try and kill the Baron, in part because it puts his friends at risk. And yet his friends can't let the Baron kill Guillermo either!

Things are... sort of resolved... when Guillermo tells the Baron that he has renounced his vampire killing family legacy by becoming a vampire himself. The Baron finds the whole situation with Nandor not being the one to change him kind of hilarious and he's also sympathetic to Guillermo because of it, so he calls off his vengeance. And then... Guillermo accidentally burns him in the sunlight again.

Genuinely, the sight of Nandor clutching Guillermo's sweater, and then his grief when he sees "Guillermo" dead on the ground in front of him... I'm sure the whole fandom is celebrating hardcore. It was so much. Pair that with the utterly callous way that Lazlo guts the corpse, to show everyone that it's not really "Gizmo", but one of his clone experiments gone awry... this show is utterly ridiculous in the very best way.

The sweet Guillermo and Nandor moments don't stop there. When Nandor finds Guillermo hiding in his coffin, after thinking he has fled never to be seen again, he asks him questions to make sure it's the real him. One of them is, what's in the card you gave to me the first day you were my familiar? And Guillermo quotes it exactly, with Nandor mouthing along. "To be a vampire is my dream, but to be your familiar would be my honor." What the heck kind of high romance? Amazing. I can't believe next week we're going to see Nandor find out about Guillermo at last. Everyone's been building up again and again how Nandor will be forced to kill Guillermo and then himself. I wonder what's going to happen!

Turns out, Lazlo's strange mood was just because he was trying to figure out how to alphabetize his books. I love this gag as like... a fun example of what longevity and immortality might really be like. You can afford to just space out for a couple weeks to make a decision if you like! There's so much time stretched before you.

It was so funny to see Doug Jones as the Baron, sans any weird crazy make-up or prosthetics, only for the episode to involve him getting all burned up and disfigured again. I guess he's back to untold hours in the makeup chair any time he's on this show! I love it. I also loved how the Baron accepted Guillermo as a vampire right away, in a way the others who are in the know haven't quite done. He's all-in for his fellow vamps, and now he's got a bunch of Guillermo animal clones to hang out with at his place!

I'm not ready for this season to be over, it all happened too quickly! This may be the best episode of the season.

9.5/10

[labelleizzy]

Today's writing prompt:

How do you define intimacy?

It's funny how difficult this is for me to wrap words around. Because for me intimacy isn't the same as sex not even remotely. Intimacy is primarily, primarily trust, honesty, feeling safe, and vulnerability. Playfulness is an important component as well, affection and love also.

The funny thing is there's a certain level of intimacy that I am totally fine sharing with strangers. Intellectual and emotional intimacy, is sometimes even easier with strangers. I can share stories at various levels, of things that have happened in my life, things that I think, believe, prioritize.

Physical intimacy to one specific point, which is: I love giving hugs. I even receive compliments regularly, and have started volunteering at pride events, with the free mom hugs organization. I'm really good at putting my whole heart into it, my whole attention, and all of the nonverbal comforting things that go into making a really good hug. And that is important to me. To be good at that.

Here's the thing. What I said at the beginning about trust and honesty and feeling safe. People who don't know me, don't know how to keep me safe.

I would love to be open-hearted and free and welcoming on the dance floor, for example I've been a dancer for decades. But if somebody doesn't know me well enough to know that I have an injured knee, and ankle on the same leg. Twice now in the 8 years I've been doing ecstatic dance, a partner flung me into a spin in a way that was painful because they didn't know me. I don't think it did permanent damage in either case, but I won't dance with either of those people again.

I never did date, or fuck, casually. I came of age, during the AIDS crisis in the '80s. When the meta message from the government and advertising and the news was that sex was so dangerous it could kill you. So you better be sure you can trust your partner and you better protect yourself as best as you can.

And now that we have had a global pandemic of massive scale, I don't even feel that I can kiss people casually. unless I know somebody well enough that I won't give offense by asking if they've tested recently?

I lived with such a profound fear in my early dating life. Not just because of AIDS or other STDs, but because the culture was steeped in fictional characters of disposable women. And I didn't realize it at the time. It's only in looking back that I can see how the chronic condition of fear was fertilized with art with rapey motifs, undergrads who are treated like interchangeable pieces of meat, and it's treated like cause for humor. I rewatched one of those John Hughes movies last year and I couldn't believe how shitty all the women characters were treated. (Not even to get into some of the horrible racist stereotypes)

You know I should probably talk to a therapist about this. And makes it hard to have relationships and to make new friends when I truck this around with me.

Intimacy, huh? This is intimacy, this right here. This is honesty, and trust. And it's because I've cultivated my circle here on Tumblr out of decent people, and people who share my values. I have a reasonably high level of confidence that nobody is going to be mierda on my post. Because I remove those people as I find them.

Anyway, well, thanks for listening. I had a tangle in here *thumps sternum gently* and it's better now.

[airasilver]

I’m shocked they actually published this. Here it is in case they get rid of it.

26 Times Men Pointed Out "Awful Things" Women Do, Giving Both Sides To The Story

BuzzFeed Staff

Recently, Reddit user u/angelicswan333 asked the men of the community, "What are some really bad habits a lot of women have?"

Men dove right in and gave a variety of responses. They've had different experiences, so some of the "bad habits women have" that have annoyed them range from pretty sexist to actually valid.

So, to get both sides of the story, here are some things men claim women do that have affected them one way or another.

1. "Smartphone 'addicts.' I don’t date someone who's always on social media — a woman without an Instagram is manageable. A woman without Instagram and Facebook is a unicorn."

—u/gio_sdboy

"This really should be mandatory — I quit Facebook in 2009 and Instagram in 2017. My husband doesn’t use social media either. We literally never argue and aren’t delusional about our expectations for each other. 'Social' media really ruins lives, relationships, and marriages."
​

—u/No-Desk560

2. "Weaponizing a breakup. When a girl does that to me (even if she doesn't mean it), I take it very seriously. You want to give up on the relationship just like that? Fine, but don't use or threaten me with the word 'breakup' if you don't mean it. Breaking up should be the last resort, if anything."

—u/94funny

3. "Thinking they’re more attractive than they really are, and having their friends affirm this false belief and then becoming delusional about it."

—u/stompywomp


4. "Talking too much about money/desired lifestyles within the first couple of dates, even on your profile. A lot of men don’t want to be seen as an ATM with a penis, and those who don’t mind that are more likely to see women as disposable. So, it really exposes them to a potential lose-lose situation."

—u/kinggeedra

5. "Buying and/or collecting things, just because. Things that are never used, and were never intended to be used. Just things to have and take up space in garages, spare rooms, and closets."

—u/poopinion


6. "Most of the women in my life have simply never said they were sorry about anything. If they say something mean to me, and I get any type of emotion over it, they immediately get defensive and tell me I'm being too sensitive. Then they flip it around on me, and I'm the bad guy."

—u/NagoGmo

"You mean S.I.G.N.?

Shame. Insult. Guilt. Need to be right."

—u/BigBadBootyDaddy10

7. "Not being able to accept the truth about how men feel."

—u/Warm_Gur8832

8. "Actively pursuing men they are not attracted to, then blaming them for it. Cheating and treating them badly for not being good enough without the men having any idea why."

—u/Turbulent_Ad_4403

9. "Not respecting privacy or any privileged information. Anything you tell her or show her, you are also telling her friends."

—u/mule_roany_mare


10. "Testing you — asking or doing something just to see what choice I make (my fiancé answered this). Both of his ex-girlfriends did that A LOT. He told me about it before we dated, so I've always tried to not ever do that."

—u/xtinarinaldi

11. "Always making excuses or saying I’m not good enough. 'It’s always my fault' is usually the typical response from most females when you confront them about anything. Women: Just own up to your faults and mistakes, and quit trying to make a production out of everything you get questioned on."

—u/airbornethic


12. "I've never had a girlfriend admit they were wrong, and it's the exact thing they have said about men for decades."

—u/TxAthlete42

"I've had a lot of women say something verifiably false. I provide the correct information and they say I'm wrong, double down, and don't let it go. I get the answer with verification and somehow I'm in the wrong for questioning her and 'having to be right.'"
​

—u/PregnancyRoulette

13. "Speaking negatively of men all at once. You speak truth to reality."

—u/Slothvibes

14. "Taking relationship advice from unhappy or chronically single women."

—u/serene_brutality

15. "Apologizing too much at work or in public."

—u/CarlJustCarl

16. "Believing that men can read minds."

—u/TheLandFanIn814

17. "Everything my wife does is a gift from heaven. Everything I do is expected, and still not enough."

—u/thecountnotthesaint

18. "Her being upset = my problem, me being upset = my problem. That, in turn, causes her to be upset (which is then also my problem). Basically, I’m not allowed to be upset or angry, it’s not valid, and I need to 'fix' myself."

—u/Junglestumble

19. "Willingly give criticism, but not being able to take it."

—u/GoneAWOL1
​

"I suffered an extreme case of this. My ex couldn’t take it when I asked if I could comment and she said 'yes,' only later to still cry, get angry, and blame me for it. She also had a pattern of delivering critique my way over ideas and I didn't say anything."

—u/ebonyseraphim

20. "Being too indirect in communication and passive in relationships."

—u/huuaaang

21. "'Main character' syndrome. I don't think it's intentional, but I see it so often. I wonder if it's something new or I'm just starting to notice it."

—u/thumbwrestleme

22. "I don't know if a lot of women have this habit, but I know of a few cases where they've weaponized sex. Some of my buddies' wives or girlfriends will use sex as a weapon in order to coerce certain behavior."

—u/kevfefe69

23. "Aligning the truth to their emotions. They will reject facts as the truth because it doesn't match their feelings, which is 'their truth.' Basically as their feelings change, the truth changes."

—u/thuswindburns

24. "Swiping people on dating apps, then leaving them hanging when they match."

—u/Largicharg


25. "Disrespecting their man in public."

—u/BickusDickus6969


26. And finally: "Giving unsolicited advice to their husband. For example, giving unsolicited tree-trimming advice to your husband this past weekend while standing out on the deck (that your husband built). This is just an example, of course..."

—u/CarlJustCarl


Note: Some submissions have been edited for length and/or clarity.

[murfpersonalblog]

I'll answer the 2nd question in a separate post, cuz this one got me heated, oops. 🤭

Unlike Louis, Claudia never gets a pitch about becoming a vampire or even a choice. What does vampirism offer Claudia, if anything?

NOTHING. This poor girl's life was a living hell from start to finish--"rigged to burn," as Louis said in Ep3. TBF I guess it's like the saying: it's better to have lived and lost, than never to have lived at all. But eff all that, if your life's been crap.

I've always felt bad for book/film!Claudia, but I REALLY love how AMC's intensified the horror of Claudia's undead existence; not only being trapped in limbo b/t worlds as someone not exactly a child but not exactly an adult; but also now being a Black girl in the early 1900s, instead of a white girl in the 1700-1800s. I feel bad for both Claudias, but in totally different ways now.

Cuz in the books, Claudia's very different. She's FIVE. Unless it's played for laughs like Shirley Temple & Honey BooBoo, or sexualized like JonBenet Ramsey, there's nothing creepier than little toddlers/kids who act & talk like adults--it's a common horror trope for a reason. Book!Claudia was 60+ years old, but always looked like a babydoll--and people LOVED her for it. She didn't need the Mind Gift or a Spell Gift to get the job done--she used her appearance to her advantage over & over again--her victims would take one look at her and coo & squee & hug her as she called them "Mama!"; thoroughly unaware that this little girl was a frikkin demon. 💀

Book!Claudia was treated like a princess. But AMC!Claudia was called a Devil straight out the gate. The first person she encountered as a vampire wasn't some matronly lady who held her to her bosom & tried to help her, or someone who'd treat her like a little lady cuz of her rich clothes & high class status. The first person Black!Claudia met was a white COP lord have mercy, who was INSTANTLY on alert seeing a little girl out alone at night, approaching her with caution, ready to police her movements & put her back in her place. What advantages does Black!Claudia have at her disposal? NOTHING.

The next people we see her encounter are in Lovers Lane, and they immediately insult her, calling her a Swamp Thing--like how you figure!? 🤨 Her clothes are brand new, she's all clean & tidy! And then we see her in another brand new getup, looking like a rich Flapper, but she can barely walk a city block without racist white wenches calling her "Darkie!" (And she's High Yellow, she ain't even dark-skinned! 😭🤣) Like DANG! Did this girl have ANY positive experiences with humans other than Charlie--who DIES. 😫

Charlie's death sucked all the light out of Claudia's life. But even her time with him (pre-death) was marred. He took her out on a date for icecream, but what could she taste? NOTHING--just "chalk, paste, soap." Loustat bought her that mountain of macrons (that she immediately spat out), and promised her that blood tasted like "syrup," but she'd been living in a rundown shack--how much syrup had she possibly eaten to know wtf Les was talking about!? 😔 And then poor baby died a virgin. Every.single.time she has sex will be the same. 😬 And what kind of man will be ok deflowering her underage body but another underage boy, or some pedo? What can she get out of sex but blood & pain, and constant reminders about her first/last time w/ Charlie? NOTHING.

She stopped tryna connect w/ humans (congrats, Lestat, the lesson worked 😒), treating them like they were NOTHING; just the Meat, "I'm just getting started!" (Skipping ahead to Ep5, sue me 😅) A white cop barged into her room on that No Knock BS; and he only apologized for violating her privacy to her AFTER he'd busted her door down & come inside her room & got what he wanted (🤢); and they weaponized her young age to threaten her parents on some CPS timing, knowing full well they DGAF about her being around alcohol--cuz Black kids are only respected/acknowledged children when it suits court cases; otherwise they're infantilized as an insult ("boy," "little girl"), or aged up & treated like adult criminals or sex objects. (Heck, even the IWTV fandom's been more prone to call Lestat--a grown effing man--"babygirl" rather than black!Claudia, like wtF.)

AMC deliberately juxtaposes how older!black vs younger!white Claudia was treated by society. In Ep4 Black!Claudia had NEVER killed anyone before (she didn't WANT to kill that homeless dude), and yet she was ALREADY being treated like a criminal. And her new parents were screaming & hollering over her first kill the whole time, telling her to never target cops--even though ACAB--like she's the problem. Lestat said she should be SEDATED, like a wild animal.

AMC not only gave her far more nuance & complexity, but also interwove a great deal of Rose's backstory from Prince Lestat, with a few twists. Rose & Claudia were both rescued from fires by Louis. Rose's aunts were nice, but Claudia's "mean ole auntie" was abusive. Rose went to college on a full ride Lestat paid for, but Claudia had to SNEAK in & pretend she was the daughter of the Black maids who cleaned white campuses during segregation when black students were tarred & feathered, harassed and killed. The very first outfit Loustat bought her was a schoolgirl outfit, but Claudia couldn't go to school--she was self-taught & self-educated. Lestat mocked all of her learning--a warped mirror of Rose's lover/professor mocking her for reading recreational fantasy/smut in Lestat's books.

Both Rose & Claudia were targets of SV; but while Uncle Lestan (Lestat) was always Rose's white knight in shining armor, Uncle Les terrorized Claudia (chokeholding her as Charlie burned in Ep4, chokeslamming her TWICE in Ep5, and telling Antoinette to kill her in Ep7 as he chokeheld Louis). Making matters worse, Louis couldn't be her "knight in vengeful black" against either Bruce OR Lestat, cuz he was effing paralyzed & 1/2 blind for 3+yrs! He could do NOTHING to protect his daughter--she had to learn to protect herself.

Sure--Rose & white/black!Claudia got to be adopted by a rich couple who loved her--the DREAM for poor orphans!--but black!Claudia drew the shortest stick, emphasized by the changes AMC made. Teen!Claudia's old enough to run away from home and try living on her own--something book/film!Claudia could never do. AMC made Black!Claudia struggle & suffer--she's not a princess cocooned in confectionery finery at Rue ROYALe anymore--she's got NOTHING: homeless, penniless, jobless, defenseless, and unwelcome everywhere she goes. And thanks to Bruce/Killer, she can't even trust anyone who acts like they'll help her. She goes home to a literal pigsty of a busted up house AND father that SHE has to clean & defend all by herself--teaching Louis how to WALK like he's HER baby omfg--cuz god's strongest warriors are single mothers. 👏😤

She emancipates herself from Massa Lestat's domestic terrorism. She comes up with the Murder Plot all on her own cuz Louis' effing useless. She beats Lestat at his own game, and curbstomps Antoinette (don't think I missed how Antoinette grabbed Claudia by her hair--meanwhile you can't go 2 paragraphs w/out someone in the books heaping worship & praise on white!Claudia's blonde curls. It gets all the respect & compliments in the world, meanwhile what does Black!Claudia's hair get? NOTHING.). She planned the European itinerary ages ago, ready to take the world by storm!

But just when you think the clouds have parted, you remember omfg it's WWII. 💀

book!Claudia got to travel with Louis like they were on a Grand Tour, just like the kind rich white lords & ladies went on on the 1800s to get cultured or whatever before marriage. Sure, slumming it in Eastern Europe sucked (literally), but they were living in the lap of luxury even before they went to Western Europe (civilization).

But what luxury does black!Claudia get in Eastern Europe? NOTHING. Just bombed up battlefields. There's no fancy carriage for her--she and Louis are riding in the back of what looks like one of those canvas-covered army trucks.

In the book/film, Lestat actually gave Claudia a vampire pitch, making sweet promises to her that she'd get better--helping/saving her.

And unlike book/film!Claudia, AMC's version is on the very brink of death, and can't be talked to or asked anything at all. Unlike Rose, Claudia is actually burned alive in the fire--paralleling her final demise in the book/film. AMC deliberately had Loustat say NOTHING to her at all--she thinks they're angels, but the imagery we see is HELLISH.

Sure, she got a nice home and a rich family, but she died thinking neither Lestat nor Louis loved her at all, and her ghost was BEYOND PISSED in Merrick because of how sad & hurt & angry she was.

It's no accident; AMC knew what they were doing from the start. At the end of the day, vampirism gave Claudia NOTHING--it just delayed the inevitable (her dying in a fire), as her "destitute... inconsequential little life" came full circle. 😔

Rewind the tape —an AMC IWTV group rewatch

Episode 4: …The Ruthless Pursuit of Blood with All a Child's Demanding

In the time leading up to the second season, which premieres on May 12th, we’re hosting a group rewatch of season one! Today, Sunday, March 31st, we’re starting with Episode 4, …The Ruthless Pursuit of Blood with All a Child's Demanding.

You can watch with your friends or in your own time, and come talk about it in the #vampterview tag! We want to hear your thoughts, theories and burning questions, as well as your favorite moments, costumes and lines from the episode.

Come revisit the first season, and countdown the weeks to the second with us, here or on Twitter, using the tag #vampterview.

Click here to learn more about this dedicated tag ►

We’re kicking off discussion of Episode 4 with two questions: 

Unlike Louis, Claudia never gets a pitch about becoming a vampire or even a choice. What does vampirism offer Claudia, if anything? How does Claudia joining Lestat and Louis’ family affect or change them, separately and also as a couple?

[romanstheory]

With You

Characters : Kammi (reader), Jey Uso, Jimmy Uso, Roman Reigns

Warnings : Language, Violence, Pregnancy

Word Count : 1,021

This fic is based on this and this one shot. Due to many requests we've got a full fic started!

It's been months since Jey and I have spoken to or seen Jimmy. The last time we saw him we told him about my pregnancy, and Jey and I deciding to be together. Life has been amazing for Jey and I, but extremely tense for Jimmy an Jey. They still have to work together despite me choosing Jey over him and being pregnant with Jey's daughter. They do their work and go their separate ways, part of me feels like I am to blame but Jey reassures me that his relationship with his brother was already in shambles. Jimmy has a temper, he always has even when we were little. He treats everyone as if they're disposable, and that included me. Why I let it go on for so long is a mystery, even to myself. How could I let someone make me feel so small? So worthless and dull? I don't have to worry about that with Jey, even when he's gone he shows me every single day that I am beautiful, amazing, and worthy of everything the world has to offer.

My due date with our daughter is approaching quickly, and Roman has decided to throw us a party as our last hurrah before our little girl arrives. "You about ready babe?" Jey says as he approaches our bedroom. "Yeah can you just help me get my shoes on?" I ask as I plop down on our king size bed. He nods and begins helping me with my shoes. "You look beautiful" He says looking up at me with a sweet smile. "Thank you" I say softly with a grin. Jey has been soft and sweet to me as long as I could remember. I guess I just took to Jimmy's bad boy rough nature more. Jey is the youngest of he, Roman, and Jimmy so they always gave him a hard time about everything. While Jey was never a punk, he was clearly different than the other two.

Jey and I get into the car, he in the drivers seat and me in the passenger. Jey is silent, he's only ever silent when he's in deep thought. "What are you thinking about?" I ask him softly as we make our way to Roman's house. "Everything" Jey responds "I don't know how Jimmy is about to act". Jey clenches his jaw, we've received so much love and support from everyone in the family that Jimmy's feelings shouldn't matter....... but somehow they do. Our relationship was already coming to an end, and Jimmy himself said he didn't give a shit about me, so why do I care about what he thinks? Everyone knows he's a selfish asshole, nobody even understood why I stayed so long. I think it burns Jimmy up inside that I have everything I wanted now, and it doesn't include him. I've always wanted a family, a loving relationship, and just a good life and that clearly wasn't happening with him. "Everything will be alright" I say softly, placing my hand on Jey's lap.

We arrive at Roman's house, the smell of food on the grill hits my nose immediately. I can hear music playing and voices talking and laughing as we walk through the backyard gate. "There they are!" Roman shouts as he makes his way over to us, pulling us into a tight hug. "Look don't worry I already talked to Jimmy, he's cool" Roman whispers to Jey. "He better be" Jey scoffs. We're greeted by tons of family members and showered with gifts. Jey is on the defense most of the night, waiting for Jimmy to make an appearance. "Just relax babe, have a good time" I say rubbing his thigh. "I know my brother and I know he's not 'cool'" Jey says. Time passes and the gate flings open, smashing into the fence and in walks a clearly drunk Jimmy.

Roman immediately approaches him "Look you gotta go if you gon' be pissy drunk, this isn't about you" Roman says putting his hand on Jimmy's chest. "I'm cool uce" Jimmy says. Jey and I stand up, preparing for what ever the hell is to come next. Jimmy approaches us, stumbling is is drunken slop. "What's goos uce" Jimmy says with a straight face "And Kammi" Jimmy shoots me a look so harsh I could almost feel it. Jey gives Jimmy a weak nod, putting his hand across my stomach as a signal for me to get behind him. "I see the baby is almost here" Jimmy continues "I wonder if she gon' look like you or me". Everyone is watching the situation at hand as if it's some sunday morning soap opera show. "I need you to chill and walk away" Jey orders. Jimmy lets out a loud cackle, sort of like a movie villain in a Marvel origin story. "Aye tell me uce, doe she still do that thing with her tongue?" Jimmy asks

Before I can react, Roman grabs me and pulls me away. Jey swings at Jimmy hitting him in the jaw and knocking him to the floor. A flood of relatives rush over, grabbing the two of them apart. "Fuck you!" Jimmy barks. "You're mad! You're mad you treated her like shit and she found someone to love her despite how bad you fucked her mental up" Jey barks back. "You've always been a piece of shit". I am overwhelmed with emotion and fear of what happens next. I feel a sharp pain in my stomach and a gush of fluid roll down my leg. "Holy shit!" Roman says looking at me like he has just saw a ghost. "My water just broke!" I scream as I clutch my belly. Jey pushes his family members off of him and rushes over to me. He guides me into the car, stopping every few feet due to horrible contractions.

He speeds through traffic as I scream and moan like a wild animal until we arrive. How did we just go from a boxing match to having a baby? Are we going to talk about what just happened? Does it even matter?

[doubledgesword-2]

Breeding Kink

I’m taking this as a kink instead so I hope that’s alright for the request! I apologize if it isn’t! I treated them like drabbles and if I’m honest I’m a bit disappointed in my work ;-; this rose tea is not my best.

Illumi

You opened your door to your pitch-black apartment with the same sluggishness and tiredness you had walking all the way from your work to here. Today had been one of those days, and those were fine once in a while...but the entire week? No, that was not normal. You had been on edge and stressed to the point of burning out. So the plans for this evening consisted of showering, eating something quick, and just dying on your bed. That was until you noticed the figure sitting on your sofa.

Illumi's back was to you; he was so still and quiet, you might as well think he fell asleep while sitting.

"You're late," his voice cut through the silence.

"I didn't know I was expected," you replied, and it was the truth; Illumi had left for a week on a job and didn't even called you. You weren't feeling particularly forgiving this evening, and the edge of your tone contrasted the calm and monotony in his

"It's been a long day, Illumi, is there anything I can do for you?"

Your relationship wasn't the best when it came to normal; there was a lot of miscommunication or lack of it. But Illumi did his best, he was interested in you, and that didn't happen often.

"As my love interest, you should always expect me is a quality that every wife should have. It's their job to wait for their husbands no matter how long they take" Illumi turned slightly to look into your eyes as he talked.

You perked up at the word wife; he had never made allusions to marriage, at least not directly like this. You knew his goals when it came to relationships. Still, you always expected him to leave you in the end for someone more suitable, almost royalty. After all, his parents were very demanding, and you knew you didn't fit the role of the perfect wife, starting with the fact that you worked a regular job and haven't found your nen if you even had one.

"But we're not married, Illumi. Besides, I don't think your parents would approve of someone as vain as me. I'm not strong, and I don't meet the qualifications. So..." you shrugged in the end, dropping your keys on the counter and your bag nearby.

Your hand went to flip the switch; all this talk in the darkness was unnerving you, especially when you took into consideration Illumi was an assassin. Right when you flipped the switch, Illumi's hand was on your wrist, turning off the lights once more. You could feel his toned chest as he pulled you close to him. For a second, you struggled in a fight or flight response, and Illumi's face went to the crook of your neck. His breath on your neck sent chills down your spine as he planted a feather-like kiss on your pulse. The action almost threatening, and it made you swallow. The fear and desire burned equally in your veins as he stretched your clothes, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses all the way to your shoulder.

"I think I've given you too much freedom. Do you think you're in control in this relationship?" He whispered to your shoulder, his other hand holding you tightly to him. "Do you think you can talk back to me just because you're tired? If you're going to be my wife, you need to learn how to behave properly."

Illumi slammed you down on the island counter, both of your hands twisted on your back held with one hand. You gasped and yelped as he did so. Whether it was from desire or fear, you didn't know. He bent over you, leaning close to the side of your head, nibbling your earlobe and whispering.

"Don't worry, I'll teach you" Illumi's free hand caressed your side, going down and squeezing everything he could. "The first lesson is to obey my every command. Can you do that?"

You nodded frantically, and he tilted his head innocently as if he wasn't holding you down or grinding into your hips slowly.

"Good girl" Illumi turned your body so you'd be laying on your back facing him. His hands went to your shirt, ripping it open, sending the buttons flying all around.

"Second, we have to continue the Zoldyck Legacy..." Illumi caressed a trail down your stomach and undid his pants, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I'll ensure you're filled to the brim, just to be sure it takes. We still have all night to try."

Hisoka

Hisoka had managed to find you where you were staying. You were on a short business trip. After he had disappeared to go on another gig, you didn't think it would matter if you actually did the same for the same reason. But Hisoka didn't like that. Like the petulant child he is, he was expecting to arrive home and be received and welcomed with a nice meal and some more relaxing activities afterward. But all he got was a nicely written note on the counter explaining your absence.

P.S feed your cat dummy :)

"Hmm," the cat meow made him look down to the fluff currently sitting at his feet, "She left you too, huh? Well, at least you welcomed me." He said in a bitterly playful tone.

After feeding the adorable and fearsome beast that guarded your apartment, he went on to look for you. He wanted your attention, and he wanted it now.

You had been staying at a company-paid hotel near the station. It was a relatively short trip, three days max, counting on everything going according to the agenda. After you had finished your last reports, you were set for a nice shower and sleep. Your stomach growling said otherwise, though. So you ordered some room service and went to shower quickly just in case the food came. When you were out in your robes, there was a knock on the door.

"Coming"

You opened the door, still drying your hair, when you looked up at the man serving you. It was Hisoka. Somewhere along the way, after he figured where you were, he had seen the boy coming up with your food, and once that was temporarily disposed of, he went on to serve you.

"Mmm, hello (Y/N)-Chan, how lovely to see you" he rolled the cart inside the room and closed the door by slamming you into it.

"Hisoka, w-what are you doing here?"

"I was lonely and bored. You left me all alone" He licked a trip up your neck all the way to your cheek.

"You leave alone all the time; what's the difference?" You were angry at that statement, 'how dare he?'

Hisoka's eyes widened for a split second, but not in shock, more in amusement.

"Oh," he chuckled, the tone dangerous, "my bad, little pet, I didn't realize this was such a sensitive topic" his tone was whimsical and mocking.

"Here, let's eat, and maybe you'll feel better" without giving you a chance, Hisoka grabbed your arms and flung you into the bed.

After your first release, you felt tired. You had been working nonstop for these two days. Your eyes closed, and his half-lidded ones are the last thing you remember.

"You actually passed out, doll. Was our sexy time too much to handle, or have I been mistreating you all these weeks I wasn't there, hmm~?"

You let out a breath at his playful look. He was rubbing circles on your exposed stomach while straddling you.

"Mmm, I think you're not relaxed enough; we might as well try again. After all, you let all my efforts slip out; I'll have to work hard to fill you up again~" he pouted playfully, looking over your tired form. "Don't worry, you can sleep while I'm at it, little fruit."

Chrollo

You were currently perched on your island counter chair like a vulture looking down at its prey. The entire week had been a mess of deadlines, due dates, and unhelpful people. To say you were stressed was an understatement. You were so stressed you no longer felt stressed.

That's how Chrollo found you when he entered your house. He could've used the front door, but he wanted to surprise you, and now he was worried about your confused face staring down the laptop screen.

You were so concentrated that when his hand laid on your shoulder, you jumped with a yelp.

"Argh, don't scare me like that," you chuckled, giving him a quick peck on the cheek but immediately turned to the computer screen once more.

Chrollo pouted slightly. He had been gone for an entirety of two weeks because of a small job; the least he expected was to be received with kisses, praise, and hugs like it was a kings parade.

He understood the stress, but he wasn't having it.

"Have you eaten anything?" He casually asked.

"Not really, but I can make you something if you want?" Chrollo gave a small smiled at the fact that you'd roll were willing to attend to him. You just needed to relax.

"Don't worry, love, I'll go shower" you nodded, and he turned, making his way down the hall and disappearing. You heard the water turn on muffled because of the closed door.

While you were concentrated on your work Chrollo slipped out of the bathroom, he grabbed you by the waist, spinning you and slamming you against the wall. His lips were possessive and angry as he kissed you. Sandwiched between his toned chest and the wall, you tried to push him back but eventually gave in to the way his fingers caressed your sides, his tongue forced yours into submission, and how he grinds his hips suggestively.

"Chrollo," you gasped when he finally let go of your swollen lips to suck on the skin of your neck. "I have to w-work."

At the mention of it, he bit down hard on your shoulder, making you Yelp.

"No more work" he licked the bite, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses. "I just returned, expecting my little darling to receive me with kisses and at least one hug. But instead," his free hand grabbed your hips tightly enough to bruise, "you've overworked to the bone" your hands held his head close to your chest, ruffling his hair in the process and making him look even hotter.

"I-I"

"It's alright, I know how you can make it better" kiss on your shoulder.

"for both of us" kiss on your jaw.

"I'm going to shower, and you're coming with me; after getting on your knees for me, you can let me fill you up nicely."

"But-t" a moan slipped your lips as his knee went between your legs.

"And if you keep protesting, I'll just keep stuffing you until you can't think straight. See if you can work after that"

I hope this was good! I’m sorry if I butchered this 😭

[innuendostudios]

Thoughts on: Criterion's Neo-Noir Collection

I have written up all 26 films* in the Criterion Channel's Neo-Noir Collection.

Legend: rw - rewatch; a movie I had seen before going through the collection dnrw - did not rewatch; if a movie met two criteria (a. I had seen it within the last 18 months, b. I actively dislike it) I wrote it up from memory.

* in September, Brick leaves the Criterion Channel and is replaced in the collection with Michael Mann's Thief. May add it to the list when that happens.

Note: These are very "what was on my mind after watching." No effort has been made to avoid spoilers, nor to make the plot clear for anyone who hasn't seen the movies in question. Decide for yourself if that's interesting to you.

Cotton Comes to Harlem I feel utterly unequipped to asses this movie. This and Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song the following year are regularly cited as the progenitors of the blaxploitation genre. (This is arguably unfair, since both were made by Black men and dealt much more substantively with race than the white-directed films that followed them.) Its heroes are a couple of Black cops who are treated with suspicion both by their white colleagues and by the Black community they're meant to police. I'm not 100% clear on whether they're the good guys? I mean, I think they are. But the community's suspicion of them seems, I dunno... well-founded? They are working for The Man. And there's interesting discussion to the had there - is the the problem that the law is carried out by racists, or is the law itself racist? Can Black cops make anything better? But it feels like the film stacks the deck in Gravedigger and Coffin Ed's favor; the local Black church is run by a conman, the Back-to-Africa movement is, itself, a con, and the local Black Power movement is treated as an obstacle. Black cops really are the only force for justice here. Movie portrays Harlem itself as a warm, thriving, cultured community, but the people that make up that community are disloyal and easily fooled. Felt, to me, like the message was "just because they're cops doesn't mean they don't have Black soul," which, nowadays, we would call copaganda. But, then, do I know what I'm talking about? Do I know how much this played into or off of or against stereotypes from 1970? Was this a radical departure I don't have the context to appreciate? Is there substance I'm too white and too many decades removed to pick up on? Am I wildly overthinking this? I dunno. Seems like everyone involved was having a lot of fun, at least. That bit is contagious.

Across 110th Street And here's the other side of the "race film" equation. Another movie set in Harlem with a Black cop pulled between the police, the criminals, and the public, but this time the film is made by white people. I like it both more and less. Pro: this time the difficult position of Black cop who's treated with suspicion by both white cops and Black Harlemites is interrogated. Con: the Black cop has basically no personality other than "honest cop." Pro: the racism of the police force is explicit and systemic, as opposed to comically ineffectual. Con: the movie is shaped around a racist white cop who beats the shit out of Black people but slowly forms a bond with his Black partner. Pro: the Black criminal at the heart of the movie talks openly about how the white world has stacked the deck against him, and he's soulful and relateable. Con: so of course he dies in the end, because the only way privileged people know to sympathetize with minorities is to make them tragic (see also: The Boys in the Band, Philadelphia, and Brokeback Mountain for gay men). Additional con: this time Harlem is portrayed as a hellhole. Barely any of the community is even seen. At least the shot at the end, where the criminal realizes he's going to die and throws the bag of money off a roof and into a playground so the Black kids can pick it up before the cops reclaim it was powerful. But overall... yech. Cotton Comes to Harlem felt like it wasn't for me; this feels like it was 100% for me and I respect it less for that.

The Long Goodbye (rw) The shaggiest dog. Like much Altman, more compelling than good, but very compelling. Raymond Chandler's story is now set in the 1970's, but Philip Marlowe is the same Philip Marlowe of the 1930's. I get the sense there was always something inherently sad about Marlowe. Classic noir always portrayed its detectives as strong-willed men living on the border between the straightlaced world and its seedy underbelly, crossing back and forth freely but belonging to neither. But Chandler stresses the loneliness of it - or, at least, the people who've adapted Chandler do. Marlowe is a decent man in an indecent world, sorting things out, refusing to profit from misery, but unable to set anything truly right. Being a man out of step is here literalized by putting him forty years from the era where he belongs. His hardboiled internal monologue is now the incessant mutterings of the weird guy across the street who never stops smoking. Like I said: compelling! Kael's observation was spot on: everyone in the movie knows more about the mystery than he does, but he's the only one who cares. The mystery is pretty threadbare - Marlowe doesn't detect so much as end up in places and have people explain things to him. But I've seen it two or three times now, and it does linger.

Chinatown (rw) I confess I've always been impressed by Chinatown more than I've liked it. Its story structure is impeccable, its atmosphere is gorgeous, its noirish fatalism is raw and real, its deconstruction of the noir hero is well-observed, and it's full of clever detective tricks (the pocket watches, the tail light, the ruler). I've just never connected with it. Maybe it's a little too perfectly crafted. (I feel similar about Miller's Crossing.) And I've always been ambivalent about the ending. In Towne's original ending, Evelyn shoots Noah Cross dead and get arrested, and neither she nor Jake can tell the truth of why she did it, so she goes to jail for murder and her daughter is in the wind. Polansky proposed the ending that exists now, where Evelyn just dies, Cross wins, and Jake walks away devastated. It communicates the same thing: Jake's attempt to get smart and play all the sides off each other instead of just helping Evelyn escape blows up in his face at the expense of the woman he cares about and any sense of real justice. And it does this more dramatically and efficiently than Towne's original ending. But it also treats Evelyn as narratively disposable, and hands the daughter over to the man who raped Evelyn and murdered her husband. It makes the women suffer more to punch up the ending. But can I honestly say that Towne's ending is the better one? It is thematically equal, dramatically inferior, but would distract me less. Not sure what the calculus comes out to there. Maybe there should be a third option. Anyway! A perfect little contraption. Belongs under a glass dome.

Night Moves (rw) Ah yeah, the good shit. This is my quintessential 70's noir. This is three movies in a row about detectives. Thing is, the classic era wasn't as chockablock with hardboiled detectives as we think; most of those movies starred criminals, cops, and boring dudes seduced to the darkness by a pair of legs. Gumshoes just left the strongest impressions. (The genre is said to begin with Maltese Falcon and end with Touch of Evil, after all.) So when the post-Code 70's decided to pick the genre back up while picking it apart, it makes sense that they went for the 'tecs first. The Long Goodbye dragged the 30's detective into the 70's, and Chinatown went back to the 30's with a 70's sensibility. But Night Moves was about detecting in the Watergate era, and how that changed the archetype. Harry Moseby is the detective so obsessed with finding the truth that he might just ruin his life looking for it, like the straight story will somehow fix everything that's broken, like it'll bring back a murdered teenager and repair his marriage and give him a reason to forgive the woman who fucked him just to distract him from some smuggling. When he's got time to kill, he takes out a little, magnetic chess set and recreates a famous old game, where three knight moves (get it?) would have led to a beautiful checkmate had the player just seen it. He keeps going, self-destructing, because he can't stand the idea that the perfect move is there if he can just find it. And, no matter how much we see it destroy him, we, the audience, want him to keep going; we expect a satisfying resolution to the mystery. That's what we need from a detective picture; one character flat-out compares Harry to Sam Spade. But what if the truth is just... Watergate? Just some prick ruining things for selfish reasons? Nothing grand, nothing satisfying. Nothing could be more noir, or more neo-, than that.

Farewell, My Lovely Sometimes the only thing that makes a noir neo- is that it's in color and all the blood, tits, and racism from the books they're based on get put back in. This second stab at Chandler is competant but not much more than that. Mitchum works as Philip Marlowe, but Chandler's dialogue feels off here, like lines that worked on the page don't work aloud, even though they did when Bogie said them. I'll chalk it up to workmanlike but uninspired direction. (Dang this looks bland so soon after Chinatown.) Moose Malloy is a great character, and perfectly cast. (Wasn't sure at first, but it's true.) Some other interesting cats show up and vanish - the tough brothel madam based on Brenda Allen comes to mind, though she's treated with oddly more disdain than most of the other hoods and is dispatched quicker. In general, the more overt racism and misogyny doesn't seem to do anything except make the movie "edgier" than earlier attempts at the same material, and it reads kinda try-hard. But it mostly holds together. *shrug*

The Killing of a Chinese Bookie (dnrw) Didn't care for this at all. Can't tell if the script was treated as a jumping-off point or if the dialogue is 100% improvised, but it just drags on forever and is never that interesting. Keeps treating us to scenes from the strip club like they're the opera scenes in Amadeus, and, whatever, I don't expect burlesque to be Mozart, but Cosmo keeps saying they're an artful, classy joint, and I keep waiting for the show to be more than cheap, lazy camp. How do you make gratuitious nudity boring? Mind you, none of this is bad as a rule - I love digressions and can enjoy good sleaze, and it's clear the filmmakers care about what they're making. They just did not sell it in a way I wanted to buy. Can't remember what edit I watched; I hope it was the 135 minute one, because I cannot imagine there being a longer edit out there.

The American Friend (dnrw) It's weird that this is Patricia Highsmith, right? That Dennis Hopper is playing Tom Ripley? In a cowboy hat? I gather that Minghella's version wasn't true to the source, but I do love that movie, and this is a long, long way from that. This Mr. Ripley isn't even particularly talented! Anyway, this has one really great sequence, where a regular guy has been coerced by crooks into murdering someone on a train platform, and, when the moment comes to shoot, he doesn't. And what follows is a prolonged sequence of an amateur trying to surreptitiously tail a guy across a train station and onto another train, and all the while you're not sure... is he going to do it? is he going to chicken out? is he going to do it so badly he gets caught? It's hard not to put yourself in the protagonist's shoes, wondering how you would handle the situation, whether you could do it, whether you could act on impulse before your conscience could catch up with you. It drags on a long while and this time it's a good thing. Didn't much like the rest of the movie, it's shapeless and often kind of corny, and the central plot hook is contrived. (It's also very weird that this is the only Wim Wenders I've seen.) But, hey, I got one excellent sequence, not gonna complain.

The Big Sleep Unlike the 1946 film, I can follow the plot of this Big Sleep. But, also unlike the 1946 version, this one isn't any damn fun. Mitchum is back as Marlowe (this is three Marlowes in five years, btw), and this time it's set in the 70's and in England, for some reason. I don't find this offensive, but neither do I see what it accomplishes? Most of the cast is still American. (Hi Jimmy!) Still holds together, but even less well than Farewell, My Lovely. But I do find it interesting that the neo-noir era keeps returning to Chandler while it's pretty much left Hammet behind (inasmuch as someone whose genes are spread wide through the whole genre can be left behind). Spade and the Continental Op, straightshooting tough guys who come out on top in the end, seem antiquated in the (post-)modern era. But Marlowe's goodness being out of sync with the world around him only seems more poignant the further you take him from his own time. Nowadays you can really only do Hammett as pastiche, but I sense that you could still play Chandler straight.

Eyes of Laura Mars The most De Palma movie I've seen not made by De Palma, complete with POV shots, paranormal hoodoo, and fixation with sex, death, and whether images of such are art or exploitation (or both). Laura Mars takes photographs of naked women in violent tableux, and has gotten quite famous doing so, but is it damaging to women? The movie has more than a superficial engagement with this topic, but only slightly more than superficial. Kept imagining a movie that is about 30% less serial killer story and 30% more art conversations. (But, then, I have an art degree and have never murdered anyone, so.) Like, museums are full of Biblical paintings full of nude women and slaughter, sometimes both at once, and they're called masterpieces. Most all of them were painted by men on commission from other men. Now Laura Mars makes similar images in modern trappings, and has models made of flesh and blood rather than paint, and it's scandalous? Why is it only controversial once women are getting paid for it? On the other hand, is this just the master's tools? Is she subverting or challenging the male gaze, or just profiting off of it? Or is a woman profiting off of it, itself, a subversion? Is it subversive enough to account for how it commodifies female bodies? These questions are pretty clearly relevant to the movie itself, and the movies in general, especially after the fall of the Hays Code when people were really unrestrained with the blood and boobies. And, heck, the lead is played by the star of Bonnie and Clyde! All this is to say: I wish the movie were as interested in these questions as I am. What's there is a mildly diverting B-picture. There's one great bit where Laura's seeing through the killer's eyes (that's the hook, she gets visions from the murderer's POV; no, this is never explained) and he's RIGHT BEHIND HER, so there's a chase where she charges across an empty room only able to see her own fleeing self from ten feet behind. That was pretty great! And her first kiss with the detective (because you could see a mile away that the detective and the woman he's supposed to protect are gonna fall in love) is immediately followed by the two freaking out about how nonsensical it is for them to fall in love with each other, because she's literally mourning multiple deaths and he's being wildly unprofessional, and then they go back to making out. That bit was great, too. The rest... enh.

The Onion Field What starts off as a seemingly not-that-noirish cops-vs-crooks procedural turns into an agonizingly protracted look at the legal system, with the ultimate argument that the very idea of the law ever resulting in justice is a lie. Hoo! I have to say, I'm impressed. There's a scene where a lawyer - whom I'm not sure is even named, he's like the seventh of thirteen we've met - literally quits the law over how long this court case about two guys shooting a cop has taken. He says the cop who was murdered has been forgotten, his partner has never gotten to move on because the case has lasted eight years, nothing has been accomplished, and they should let the two criminals walk and jail all the judges and lawyers instead. It's awesome! The script is loaded with digressions and unnecessary details, just the way I like it. Can't say I'm impressed with the execution. Nothing is wrong, exactly, but the performances all seem a tad melodramatic or a tad uninspired. Camerawork is, again, purely functional. It's no masterpiece. But that second half worked for me. (And it's Ted Danson's first movie! He did great.)

Body Heat (rw) Let's say up front that this is a handsomely-made movie. Probably the best looking thing on the list since Night Moves. Nothing I've seen better captures the swelter of an East Coast heatwave, or the lusty feeling of being too hot to bang and going at it regardless. Kathleen Turner sells the hell out of a femme fatale. There are a lot of good lines and good performances (Ted Danson is back and having the time of his life). I want to get all that out of the way, because this is a movie heavily modeled after Double Indemnity, and I wanted to discuss its merits before I get into why inviting that comparison doesn't help the movie out. In a lot of ways, it's the same rules as the Robert Mitchum Marlowe movies - do Double Indemnity but amp up the sex and violence. And, to a degree it works. (At least, the sex does, dunno that Double Indemnity was crying out for explosions.) But the plot is amped as well, and gets downright silly. Yeah, Mrs. Dietrichson seduces Walter Neff so he'll off her husband, but Neff clocks that pretty early and goes along with it anyway. Everything beyond that is two people keeping too big a secret and slowly turning on each other. But here? For the twists to work Matty has to be, from frame one, playing four-dimensional chess on the order of Senator Palpatine, and its about as plausible. (Exactly how did she know, after she rebuffed Ned, he would figure out her local bar and go looking for her at the exact hour she was there?) It's already kind of weird to be using the spider woman trope in 1981, but to make her MORE sexually conniving and mercenary than she was in the 40's is... not great. As lurid trash, it's pretty fun for a while, but some noir stuff can't just be updated, it needs to be subverted or it doesn't justify its existence.

Blow Out Brian De Palma has two categories of movie: he's got his mainstream, director-for-hire fare, where his voice is either reigned in or indulged in isolated sequences that don't always jive with the rest fo the film, and then there's his Brian De Palma movies. My mistake, it seems, is having seen several for-hires from throughout his career - The Untouchables (fine enough), Carlito's Way (ditto, but less), Mission: Impossible (enh) - but had only seen De Palma-ass movies from his late period (Femme Fatale and The Black Dahlia, both of which I think are garbage). All this to say: Blow Out was my first classic-era De Palma, and holy fucking shit dudes. This was (with caveats) my absolute and entire jam. I said I could enjoy good sleaze, and this is good friggin' sleaze. (Though far short of De Palma at his sleaziest, mercifully.) The splitscreens, the diopter shots, the canted angles, how does he make so many shlocky things work?! John Travolta's sound tech goes out to get fresh wind fx for the movie he's working on, and we get this wonderful sequence of visuals following sounds as he turns his attention and his microphone to various noises - a couple on a walk, a frog, an owl, a buzzing street lamp. Later, as he listens back to the footage, the same sequence plays again, but this time from his POV; we're seeing his memory as guided by the same sequence of sounds, now recreated with different shots, as he moves his pencil in the air mimicking the microphone. When he mixes and edits sounds, we hear the literal soundtrack of the movie we are watching get mixed and edited by the person on screen. And as he tries to unravel a murder mystery, he uses what's at hand: magnetic tape, flatbed editors, an animation camera to turn still photos from the crime scene into a film and sync it with the audio he recorded; it's forensics using only the tools of the editing room. As someone who's spent some time in college editing rooms, this is a hoot and a half. Loses a bit of steam as it goes on and the film nerd stuff gives way to a more traditional thriller, but rallies for a sound-tech-centered final setpiece, which steadily builds to such madcap heights you can feel the air thinning, before oddly cutting its own tension and then trying to build it back up again. It doesn't work as well the second time. But then, that shot right after the climax? Damn. Conflicted on how the movie treats the female lead. I get why feminist film theorists are so divided on De Palma. His stuff is full of things feminists (rightly) criticize, full of women getting naked when they're not getting stabbed, but he also clearly finds women fascinating and has them do empowered and unexpected things, and there are many feminist reads of his movies. Call it a mixed bag. But even when he's doing tropey shit, he explores the tropes in unexpected ways. Definitely the best movie so far that I hadn't already seen.

Cutter's Way (rw) Alex Cutter is pitched to us as an obnoxious-but-sympathetic son of a bitch, and, you know, two out of three ain't bad. Watched this during my 2020 neo-noir kick and considered skipping it this time because I really didn't enjoy it. Found it a little more compelling this go around, while being reminded of why my feelings were room temp before. Thematically, I'm onboard: it's about a guy, Cutter, getting it in his head that he's found a murderer and needs to bring him to justice, and his friend, Bone, who intermittently helps him because he feels bad that Cutter lost his arm, leg, and eye in Nam and he also feels guilty for being in love with Cutter's wife. The question of whether the guy they're trying to bring down actually did it is intentionally undefined, and arguably unimportant; they've got personal reasons to see this through. Postmodern and noirish, fixated with the inability to ever fully know the truth of anything, but starring people so broken by society that they're desperate for certainty. (Pretty obvious parallels to Vietnam.) Cutter's a drunk and kind of an asshole, but understandably so. Bone's shiftlessness is the other response to a lack of meaning in the world, to the point where making a decision, any decision, feels like character growth, even if it's maybe killing a guy whose guilt is entirely theoretical. So, yeah, I'm down with all of this! A- in outline form. It's just that Cutter is so uninterestingly unpleasant and no one else on screen is compelling enough to make up for it. His drunken windups are tedious and his sanctimonious speeches about what the war was like are, well, true and accurate but also obviously manipulative. It's two hours with two miserable people, and I think Cutter's constant chatter is supposed to be the comic relief but it's a little too accurate to drunken rambling, which isn't funny if you're not also drunk. He's just tedious, irritating, and periodically racist. Pass.

Blood Simple (rw) I'm pretty cool on the Coens - there are things I've liked, even loved, in every Coen film I've seen, but I always come away dissatisfied. For a while, I kept going to their movies because I was sure eventually I'd love one without qualification. No Country for Old Men came close, the first two acts being master classes in sustained tension. But then the third act is all about denying closure: the protagonist is murdered offscreen, the villain's motives are never explained, and it ends with an existentialist speech about the unfathomable cruelty of the world. And it just doesn't land for me. The archness of the Coen's dialogue, the fussiness of their set design, the kinda-intimate, kinda-awkward, kinda-funny closeness of the camera's singles, it cannot sell me on a devastating meditation about meaninglessness. It's only ever sold me on the Coens' own cleverness. And that archness, that distancing, has typified every one of their movies I've come close to loving. Which is a long-ass preamble to saying, holy heck, I was not prepared for their very first movie to be the one I'd been looking for! I watched it last year and it remains true on rewatch: Blood Simple works like gangbusters. It's kind of Double Indemnity (again) but played as a comedy of errors, minus the comedy: two people romantically involved feeling their trust unravel after a murder. And I think the first thing that works for me is that utter lack of comedy. It's loaded with the Coens' trademark ironies - mostly dramatic in this case - but it's all played straight. Unlike the usual lead/femme fatale relationship, where distrust brews as the movie goes on, the audience knows the two main characters can trust each other. There are no secret duplicitous motives waiting to be revealed. The audience also know why they don't trust each other. (And it's all communicated wordlessly, btw: a character enters a scene and we know, based on the information that character has, how it looks to them and what suspicions it would arouse, even as we know the truth of it). The second thing that works is, weirdly, that the characters aren't very interesting?! Ray and Abby have almost no characterization. Outside of a general likability, they are blank slates. This is a weakness in most films, but, given the agonizingly long, wordless sequences where they dispose of bodies or hide from gunfire, you're left thinking not "what will Ray/Abby do in this scenario," because Ray and Abby are relatively elemental and undefined, but "what would I do in this scenario?" Which creates an exquisite tension but also, weirdly, creates more empathy than I feel for the Coens' usual cast of personalities. It's supposed to work the other way around! Truly enjoyable throughout but absolutely wonderful in the suspenseful-as-hell climax. Good shit right here.

Body Double The thing about erotic thrillers is everything that matters is in the name. Is it thrilling? Is it erotic? Good; all else is secondary. De Palma set out to make the most lurid, voyeuristic, horny, violent, shocking, steamy movie he could come up with, and its success was not strictly dependent on the lead's acting ability or the verisimilitude of the plot. But what are we, the modern audience, to make of it once 37 years have passed and, by today's standards, the eroticism is quite tame and the twists are no longer shocking? Then we're left with a nonsensical riff on Vertigo, a specularization of women that is very hard to justify, and lead actor made of pulped wood. De Palma's obsessions don't cohere into anything more this time; the bits stolen from Hitchcock aren't repurposed to new ends, it really is just Hitch with more tits and less brains. (I mean, I still haven't seen Vertigo, but I feel 100% confident in that statement.) The diopter shots and rear-projections this time look cheap (literally so, apparently; this had 1/3 the budget of Blow Out). There are some mildly interesting setpieces, but nothing compared to Travolta's auditory reconstructions or car chase where he tries to tail a subway train from street level even if it means driving through a frickin parade like an inverted French Connection, goddamn Blow Out was a good movie! Anyway. Melanie Griffith seems to be having fun, at least. I guess I had a little as well, but it was, at best, diverting, and a real letdown.

The Hit Surprised by how much I enjoyed this one. Terrance Stamp flips on the mob and spends ten years living a life of ease in Spain, waiting for the day they find and kill him. Movie kicks off when they do find him, and what follows is a ramshackle road movie as John Hurt and a young Tim Roth attempt to drive him to Paris so they can shoot him in front of his old boss. Stamp is magnetic. He's spent a decade reading philosophy and seems utterly prepared for death, so he spends the trip humming, philosophizing, and being friendly with his captors when he's not winding them up. It remains unclear to the end whether the discord he sews between Roth and Hurt is part of some larger plan of escape or just for shits and giggles. There's also a decent amount of plot for a movie that's not terribly plot-driven - just about every part of the kidnapping has tiny hitches the kidnappers aren't prepared for, and each has film-long repercussions, drawing the cops closer and somehow sticking Laura del Sol in their backseat. The ongoing questions are when Stamp will die, whether del Sol will die, and whether Roth will be able to pull the trigger. In the end, it's actually a meditation on ethics and mortality, but in a quiet and often funny way. It's not going to go down as one of my new favs, but it was a nice way to spend a couple hours.

Trouble in Mind (dnrw) I fucking hated this movie. It's been many months since I watched it, do I remember what I hated most? Was it the bit where a couple of country bumpkins who've come to the city walk into a diner and Mr. Bumpkin clocks that the one Black guy in the back as obviously a criminal despite never having seen him before? Was it the part where Kris Kristofferson won't stop hounding Mrs. Bumpkin no matter how many times she demands to be left alone, and it's played as romantic because obviously he knows what she needs better than she does? Or is it the part where Mr. Bumpkin reluctantly takes a job from the Obvious Criminal (who is, in fact, a criminal, and the only named Black character in the movie if I remember correctly, draw your own conclusions) and, within a week, has become a full-blown hood, which is exemplified by a lot, like, a lot of queer-coding? The answer to all three questions is yes. It's also fucking boring. Even out-of-drag Divine's performance as the villain can't save it.

Manhunter 'sfine? I've still never seen Silence of the Lambs, nor any of the Hopkins Lecter movies, nor, indeed, any full episode of the show. So the unheimlich others get seeing Brian Cox play Hannibal didn't come into play. Cox does a good job with him, but he's barely there. Shame, cuz he's the most interesting part of the movie. Honestly, there's a lot of interesting stuff that's barely there. Will Graham being a guy who gets into the heads of serial killers is explored well enough, and Mann knows how to direct a police procedural such that it's both contemplative and propulsive. But all the other themes it points at? Will's fear that he understands murderers a little too well? Hannibal trying to nudge him towards becoming one? Whatever dance Hannibal and Tooth Fairy are doing? What Tooth Fairy's deal is, anyway? (Why does he wear fake teeth and bite things? Why is he fixated on the red dragon? Does the bit where he says "Francis is gone forever" mean he has DID?) None of it goes anywhere or amounts to anything. I mean, it's certainly more interesting with this stuff than without, but it has that feel of a book that's been pared of its interesting bits to fit the runtime (or, alternately, pulp that's been sloppily elevated). I still haven't made my mind up on Mann's cold, precise camera work, but at least it gives me something to look at. It's fine! This is fine.

Mona Lisa (rw) Gave this one another shot. Bob Hoskins is wonderful as a hood out of his depth in classy places, quick to anger but just as quick to let anger go (the opening sequence where he's screaming on his ex-wife's doorstep, hurling trash cans at her house, and one minute later thrilled to see his old car, is pretty nice). And Cathy Tyson's working girl is a subtler kind of fascinating, exuding a mixture of coldness and kindness. It's just... this is ultimately a story about how heartbreaking it is when the girl you like is gay, right? It's Weezer's Pink Triangle: The Movie. It's not homophobic, exactly - Simone isn't demonized for being a lesbian - but it's still, like, "man, this straight white guy's pain is so much more interesting than the Black queer sex worker's." And when he's yelling "you woulda done it!" at the end, I can't tell if we're supposed to agree with him. Seems pretty clear that she wouldn'ta done it, at least not without there being some reveal about her character that doesn't happen, but I don't think the ending works if we don't agree with him, so... I'm like 70% sure the movie does Simone dirty there. For the first half, their growing relationship feels genuine and natural, and, honestly, the story being about a real bond that unfortunately means different things to each party could work if it didn't end with a gun and a sock in the jaw. Shape feels jagged as well; what feels like the end of the second act or so turns out to be the climax. And some of the symbolism is... well, ok, Simone gives George money to buy more appropriate clothes for hanging out in high end hotels, and he gets a tan leather jacket and a Hawaiian shirt, and their first proper bonding moment is when she takes him out for actual clothes. For the rest of the movie he is rocking double-breasted suits (not sure I agree with the striped tie, but it was the eighties, whaddya gonna do?). Then, in the second half, she sends him off looking for her old streetwalker friend, and now he looks completely out of place in the strip clubs and bordellos. So far so good. But then they have this run-in where her old pimp pulls a knife and cuts George's arm, so, with his nice shirt torn and it not safe going home (I guess?) he starts wearing the Hawaiian shirt again. So around the time he's starting to realize he doesn't really belong in Simone's world or the lowlife world he came from anymore, he's running around with the classy double-breasted suit jacket over the garish Hawaiian shirt, and, yeah, bit on the nose guys. Anyway, it has good bits, I just feel like a movie that asks me to feel for the guy punching a gay, Black woman in the face needs to work harder to earn it. Bit of wasted talent.

The Bedroom Window Starts well. Man starts an affair with his boss' wife, their first night together she witnesses an attempted murder from his window, she worries going to the police will reveal the affair to her husband, so the man reports her testimony to the cops claiming he's the one who saw it. Young Isabelle Huppert is the perfect woman for a guy to risk his career on a crush over, and Young Steve Guttenberg is the perfect balance of affability and amorality. And it flows great - picks just the right media to res. So then he's talking to the cops, telling them what she told him, and they ask questions he forgot to ask her - was the perp's jacket a blazer or a windbreaker? - and he has to guess. Then he gets called into the police lineup, and one guy matches her description really well, but is it just because he's wearing his red hair the way she described it? He can't be sure, doesn't finger any of them. He finds out the cops were pretty certain about one of the guys, so he follows the one he thinks it was around, looking for more evidence, and another girl is attacked right outside a bar he knows the redhead was at. Now he's certain! But he shows the boss' wife the guy and she's not certain, and she reminds him they don't even know if the guy he followed is the same guy the police suspected! And as he feeds more evidence to the cops, he has to lie more, because he can't exactly say he was tailing the guy around the city. So, I'm all in now. Maybe it's because I'd so recently rewatched Night Moves and Cutter's Way, but this seems like another story about uncertainty. He's really certain about the guy because it fits narratively, and we, the audience, feel the same. But he's not actually a witness, he doesn't have actual evidence, he's fitting bits and pieces together like a conspiracy theorist. He's fixating on what he wants to be true. Sign me up! But then it turns out he's 100% correct about who the killer is but his lies are found out and now the cops think he's the killer and I realize, oh, no, this movie isn't nearly as smart as I thought it was. Egg on my face! What transpires for the remaining half of the runtime is goofy as hell, and someone with shlockier sensibilities could have made a meal of it, but Hanson, despite being a Corman protege, takes this silliness seriously in the all wrong ways. Next!

Homicide (rw? I think I saw most of this on TV one time) Homicide centers around the conflicted loyalties of a Jewish cop. It opens with the Jewish cop and his white gentile partner taking over a case with a Black perp from some Black FBI agents. The media is making a big thing about the racial implications of the mostly white cops chasing down a Black man in a Black neighborhood. And inside of 15 minutes the FBI agent is calling the lead a k*ke and the gentile cop is calling the FBI agent a f****t and there's all kinds of invective for Black people. The film is announcing its intentions out the gate: this movie is about race. But the issue here is David Mamet doesn't care about race as anything other than a dramatic device. He's the Ubisoft of filmmakers, having no coherent perspective on social issues but expecting accolades for even bringing them up. Mamet is Jewish (though lead actor Joe Mantegna definitely is not) but what is his position on the Jewish diaspora? The whole deal is Mantegna gets stuck with a petty homicide case instead of the big one they just pinched from the Feds, where a Jewish candy shop owner gets shot in what looks like a stickup. Her family tries to appeal to his Jewishness to get him to take the case seriously, and, after giving them the brush-off for a long time, finally starts following through out of guilt, finding bits and pieces of what may or may not be a conspiracy, with Zionist gun runners and underground neo-Nazis. But, again: all of these are just dramatic devices. Mantegna's Jewishness (those words will never not sound ridiculous together) has always been a liability for him as a cop (we are told, not shown), and taking the case seriously is a reclamation of identity. The Jews he finds community with sold tommyguns to revolutionaries during the founding of Israel. These Jews end up blackmailing him to get a document from the evidence room. So: what is the film's position on placing stock in one's Jewish identity? What is its position on Israel? What is its opinion on Palestine? Because all three come up! And the answer is: Mamet doesn't care. You can read it a lot of different ways. Someone with more context and more patience than me could probably deduce what the de facto message is, the way Chris Franklin deduced the de facto message of Far Cry V despite the game's efforts not to have one, but I'm not going to. Mantegna's attempt to reconnect with his Jewishness gets his partner killed, gets the guy he was supposed to bring in alive shot dead, gets him possibly permanent injuries, gets him on camera blowing up a store that's a front for white nationalists, and all for nothing because the "clues" he found (pretty much exclusively by coincidence) were unconnected nothings. The problem is either his Jewishness, or his lifelong failure to connect with his Jewishness until late in life. Mamet doesn't give a shit. (Like, Mamet canonically doesn't give a shit: he is on record saying social context is meaningless, characters only exist to serve the plot, and there are no deeper meanings in fiction.) Mamet's ping-pong dialogue is fun, as always, and there are some neat ideas and characters, but it's all in service of a big nothing that needed to be a something to work.

Swoon So much I could talk about, let's keep it to the most interesting bits. Hommes Fatales: a thing about classic noir that it was fascinated by the marginal but had to keep it in the margins. Liberated women, queer-coded killers, Black jazz players, broke thieves; they were the main event, they were what audiences wanted to see, they were what made the movies fun. But the ending always had to reassert straightlaced straight, white, middle-class male society as unshakeable. White supremacist capitalist patriarchy demanded, both ideologically and via the Hays Code, that anyone outside these norms be punished, reformed, or dead by the movie's end. The only way to make them the heroes was to play their deaths for tragedy. It is unsurprising that neo-noir would take the queer-coded villains and make them the protagonists. Implicature: This is the story of Leopold and Loeb, murderers famous for being queer, and what's interesting is how the queerness in the first half exists entirely outside of language. Like, it's kind of amazing for a movie from 1992 to be this gay - we watch Nathan and Dickie kiss, undress, masturbate, fuck; hell, they wear wedding rings when they're alone together. But it's never verbalized. Sex is referred to as "your reward" or "what you wanted" or "best time." Dickie says he's going to have "the girls over," and it turns out "the girls" are a bunch of drag queens, but this is never acknowledged. Nathan at one point lists off a bunch of famous men - Oscar Wild, E.M. Forster, Frederick the Great - but, though the commonality between them is obvious (they were all gay), it's left the the audience to recognize it. When their queerness is finally verbalized in the second half, it's first in the language of pathology - a psychiatrist describing their "perversions" and "misuse" of their "organs" before the court, which has to be cleared of women because it's so inappropriate - and then with slurs from the man who murders Dickie in jail (a murder which is written off with no investigation because the victim is a gay prisoner instead of a L&L's victim, a child of a wealthy family). I don't know if I'd have noticed this if I hadn't read Chip Delany describing his experience as a gay man in the 50's existing almost entirely outside of language, the only language at the time being that of heteronormativity. Murder as Love Story: L&L exchange sex as payment for the other commiting crimes; it's foreplay. Their statements to the police where they disagree over who's to blame is a lover's quarrel. Their sentencing is a marriage. Nathan performs his own funeral rites over Dickie's body after he dies on the operating table. They are, in their way, together til death did they part. This is the relationship they can have. That it does all this without romanticizing the murder itself or valorizing L&L as humans is frankly incredible.

Suture (rw) The pitch: at the funeral for his father, wealthy Vincent Towers meets his long lost half brother Clay Arlington. It is implied Clay is a child from out of wedlock, possibly an affair; no one knows Vincent has a half-brother but him and Clay. Vincent invites Clay out to his fancy-ass home in Arizona. Thing is, Vincent is suspected (correctly) by the police of having murdered his father, and, due to a striking family resemblence, he's brought Clay to his home to fake his own death. He finagles Clay into wearing his clothes and driving his car, and then blows the car up and flees the state, leaving the cops to think him dead. Thing is, Clay survives, but with amnesia. The doctors tell him he's Vincent, and he has no reason to disagree. Any discrepancy in the way he looks is dismissed as the result of reconstructive surgery after the explosion. So Clay Arlington resumes Vincent Towers' life, without knowing Clay Arlington even exists. The twist: Clay and Vincent are both white, but Vincent is played by Michael Harris, a white actor, and Clay is played by Dennis Haysbert, a Black actor. "Ian, if there's just the two of them, how do you know it's not Harris playing a Black character?" Glad you asked! It is most explicitly obvious during a scene where Vincent/Clay's surgeon-cum-girlfriend essentially bringing up phrenology to explain how Vincent/Clay couldn't possibly have murdered his father, describing straight hair, thin lips, and a Greco-Roman nose Haysbert very clearly doesn't have. But, let's be honest: we knew well beforehand that the rich-as-fuck asshole living in a huge, modern house and living it up in Arizona high society was white. Though Clay is, canonically, white, he lives an poor and underprivileged life common to Black men in America. Though the film's title officially refers to the many stitches holding Vincent/Clay's face together after the accident, "suture" is a film theory term, referring to the way a film audience gets wrapped up - sutured - in the world of the movie, choosing to forget the outside world and pretend the story is real. The usage is ironic, because the audience cannot be sutured in; we cannot, and are not expected to, suspend our disbelief that Clay is white. We are deliberately distanced. Consequently this is a movie to be thought about, not to to be felt. It has the shape of a Hitchcockian thriller but it can't evoke the emotions of one. You can see the scaffolding - "ah, yes, this is the part of a thriller where one man hides while another stalks him with a gun, clever." I feel ill-suited to comment on what the filmmakers are saying about race. I could venture a guess about the ending, where the psychiatrist, the only one who knows the truth about Clay, says he can never truly be happy living the lie of being Vincent Towers, while we see photographs of Clay/Vincent seemingly living an extremely happy life: society says white men simply belong at the top more than Black men do, but, if the roles could be reversed, the latter would slot in seamlessly. Maybe??? Of all the movies in this collection, this is the one I'd most want to read an essay on (followed by Swoon).

The Last Seduction (dnrw) No, no, no, I am not rewataching this piece of shit movie.

Brick (rw) Here's my weird contention: Brick is in color and in widescreen, but, besides that? There's nothing neo- about this noir. There's no swearing except "hell." (I always thought Tug said "goddamn" at one point but, no, he's calling The Pin "gothed-up.") There's a lot of discussion of sex, but always through implication, and the only deleted scene is the one that removed ambiguity about what Brendan and Laura get up to after kissing. There's nothing postmodern or subversive - yes, the hook is it's set in high school, but the big twist is that it takes this very seriously. It mines it for jokes, yes, but the drama is authentic. In fact, making the gumshoe a high school student, his jadedness an obvious front, still too young to be as hard as he tries to be, just makes the drama hit harder. Sam Spade if Sam Spade were allowed to cry. I've always found it an interesting counterpoint to The Good German, a movie that fastidiously mimics the aesthetics of classic noir - down to even using period-appropriate sound recording - but is wholly neo- in construction. Brick could get approved by the Hays Code. Its vibe, its plot about a detective playing a bunch of criminals against each other, even its slang ("bulls," "yegg," "flopped") are all taken directly from Hammett. It's not even stealing from noir, it's stealing from what noir stole from! It's a perfect curtain call for the collection: the final film is both the most contemporary and the most classic. It's also - but for the strong case you could make for Night Moves - the best movie on the list. It's even more appropriate for me, personally: this was where it all started for me and noir. I saw this in theaters when it came out and loved it. It was probably my favorite movie for some time. It gave me a taste for pulpy crime movies which I only, years later, realized were neo-noir. This is why I looked into Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang and In Bruges. I've seen it more times than any film on this list, by a factor of at least 3. It's why I will always adore Rian Johnson and Joseph Gordon-Levitt. It's the best-looking half-million-dollar movie I've ever seen. (Indie filmmakers, take fucking notes.) I even did a script analysis of this, and, yes, it follows the formula, but so tightly and with so much style. Did you notice that he says several of the sequence tensions out loud? ("I just want to find her." "Show of hands.") I notice new things each time I see it - this time it was how "brushing Brendan's hair out of his face" is Em's move, making him look more like he does in the flashback, and how Laura does the same to him as she's seducing him, in the moment when he misses Em the hardest. It isn't perfect. It's recreated noir so faithfully that the Innocent Girl dies, the Femme Fatale uses intimacy as a weapon, and none of the women ever appear in a scene together. 1940's gender politics maybe don't need to be revisited. They say be critical of the media you love, and it applies here most of all: it is a real criticism of something I love immensely.

[vivisextion]

I first saw Slipknot at age 14.

No one knows how I managed it. I'm not sure I even remember. These days, you have to be 16 or 18 to get into Standing areas. I do know I had to buy tickets on the phone, back in the old days (2005, that is). A singular ticket, too - none of my friends, not even the classmate who had gone with me to see Linkin Park the year before, was that into Slipknot.

But I HAD to see them. This was the Subliminal Verses tour cycle, and Vol. 3 was my first and favourite Slipknot album, even to this day. It's the reliable old warm blanket for my soul whenever I need it. It's on right now, as I write this.

My memory isn't that good, but luckily I unearthed a livejournal (livejournal!) diary entry about the event I made the next day.

August 16, 2005. I went right after school. I went to a very conservative Anglican secondary school, too. I tried not to get caught in the bathroom, as I coloured my nails black with permanent marker (I know, don't laugh) and changed into my standard metalhead baby outfit - Slipknot band shirt, black cargo shorts, and my pride and joy: steel-toe boots I somehow managed to cajole my parents into letting me own.

I caught the bus to the open-air war memorial park where the gig was going to be. I got there at 4pm, 4 hours early. A couple other maggots were already hanging around. I found myself surrounded by tombstones, and I read them all. It was the middle of the Hungry Ghost Festival, too - a very fitting time for Slipknot to pay a visit to this godforsaken hellhole of a small town I lived in. (Especially given the paranormal circumstances surrounding the making of Vol. 3.)

While I wandered around the venue (no security or sound guys were around at all), I spotted two white vans pull up to the stage, in the middle of a clearing. It was them! I spotted Joey and missed him by a hair's breadth. I was quickly ushered behind the stone archway entrance by security then.

(Funnily enough, while walking around, I got mistaken for Joey more than once. I am the same height as him, had the same long black hair, same pale skin, and was wearing almost exactly what he had been. One person claimed from behind, I was a dead ringer, apart from when I turned around, and they realised I was Chinese.)

It was soundcheck time. A sound guy testing the mics would say random things, like "testing one two three two one.... fudge fudge, I like fudge...." The band even did Purity, so us earlybirds were given a rare treat, and we screamed along from the entrance, and drummed our fists on the sides of nearby porta-potties. I hope no one was in there at the time. Whenever we got a glance of any of them, we'd scream and cheer. Finally they left again, but were soon to return.

This was the first time I'd been a part of the metal community. I was barely allowed internet in those days. But here, random strangers were friendly, striking up conversations like they'd been friends for years. Two big guys, called Trevor and Ted, looked out for me the entire gig after, keeping other big dudes from crushing me too much (I'm 5'3, remember). Other people commented on me being so baby, because I was only 14, and said they would take care of me.

When we were finally let in, right after the usher cut the rope, I ran in, screamed "WOOOHOOO!" along with a few friends I'd made. I only briefly stopped to receive this RoadRunner Records compilation CD from a roadie, then resumed running like a madman screaming and dashing into the VIP cage.

I was right up against the barricade - the first time I would ever be at a gig. People from assorted magazines and press took photos of us, and I think I got my photo taken about 10 times at least.

(This is how I got in trouble with my parents the next day. My photo had ended up in a local paper - you can see examples of that here. They had no idea what I'd been to see the night before, and were horrified when they saw what Slipknot looked like.)

We saw Sid filming us from the stage with a camcorder and screamed at him. We saw Jim and screamed at him too, and he flashed the victory sign back at us. I remember Metallica playing at the time, another one of my favourite bands.

The concert was a brutal religious experience I will never forget. People with their arms outstretched, crying and screaming out loud, moving like the devil possessed them.

The new friends around me made sure I was alright after every song! There were huge guys fainting behind us who had to get carried out, but I endured, a tiny 14 year old child. We got a family speech as per tradition, of course. "Are you guys out there all looking out for each other? We're all one big family, and we gotta look out for each other." What Corey said held true - strangers hugged, shook hands, talked, and made friends. I was heartened by how close-knit the maggot community was. It really did feel like a family, and it's felt like that ever since.

Of course, I did my first Jump The Fuck Up. It is possibly the most euphoria I've ever experienced all at one go. (Later, in 2020, I was extremely disappointed that I didn't get to do it again in London.)

They did the death masks for Vermilion, and I remember Chris helping Sid fix his mask and shirt when they'd changed back. Sid hung out near Clown's drums for most of the time too, and hugged him from behind and just latched on at one point. It was pretty adorable.

Fun fact: The version of Eyeless you hear on the 9.0 Live album is from Singapore, as is Eeyore. There are very few photos and videos from the crowd of this gig, because in 2005, very few people had camera phones. The crowd at the Slipknot gig in 2020 was a sea of arms with phones, filming the gig rather than experiencing it. Yes, I'm going to be that cranky old geezer who complains about the good old days.

Joey as usual, was fucking amazing and never failed. However, due to the fact that I was right up front, only his tiny head was visible behind his vast drum set, I couldn't see him the entire gig.

Amazingly, the government told Slipknot they were not allowed to do obscene gestures, curse, vomit (possibly due to the decomposing crow pre-show ritual), simulate humping on objects, throw faeces, or jump off stage (looking at you, Sid). I don't think our totalitarian government knew who they were dealing with, because watch what happens next.

Near the end of the gig, Corey tells the crowd “your government has given us a laundry list of things we aren’t allowed to do, your government has told us we are not allowed to swear”. Crowd goes “BOOOOOOOOO” and Corey goes “BUT WE DON’T GIVE A FUCK!!” And they launch into Surfacing, the last song. Everyone riots. Best night of my life.

You can find the setlist from that gig here. It had everything I wanted and more.

This story later got immortalised when Kerrang asked maggots for gig stories, for an article which came out in 2020. I had forgotten entirely, until people began messaging me to tell me, and one friend sent me a scan of it!

On the way out, I managed to get a shirt. I remember calling my best friend at the time, and got everyone at the merch booth to go "IF YOU'RE 555 THEN I'M 666" for her. This shirt has since been lost to the landfill, because my Christian mother took it upon herself to dispose of it the first opportunity she got. Needless to say, our relationship is not very good.

After that, I even managed to get that Roadrunner compilation album they were giving out signed. The band was staying at the Carlton. Unfortunately, Joey wasn't there, neither was Clown, and Mick was swarmed by guitar nerds so, 6/9 it is. It is a great regret of mine that I'll never have anything signed by him, nor will I ever get to see him perform ever again.

The next day, I went to school, my head swimming. Yes, I went to see Slipknot ON A SCHOOL NIGHT. I was a giant bruise, from my ribs and my chest, to my hips and knees, from being slammed into the barricade like a screen door in a hurricane. Most of all, my sore, headbanged-out neck could barely hold my head up. Classmates thought I had been in a fight. I was torn between battle-scarred exhaustion and hyperactive ranting about the most amazing gig of my short life (it still is, to this day). When teachers spoke to me, I wanted to reply, "Fuck trigonometry! I've just seen SLIPKNOT. Do you not understand that my world is different? Do you not understand that *I* am now different?"

My country was a small, conservative town that Slipknot had graced with their unholy presence. Corey Taylor once said that where he grew up in Iowa had a way of making a 16 year old boy feel like a 36 year old man (or something to that effect). I felt that in my weary bones as a teenager, being from a place just like that. Years later, Watain would run into worse trouble, and wouldn't even be allowed to perform. The Christian stranglehold is stronger than ever. It was a good thing that back then Slipknot had the element of surprise, striking serpent-fast and choking this society by the neck for a too-brief time, before they departed.

After that, my desire to play the drums only grew like a weed. Joey Jordison had, has, and will always inspire me as a drummer, and seeing the beast live (or what little I could spy behind the massive riser) had only spurred me on. I had always been a noisemaker, be it driving my parents mad with chopsticks on pots and pans, or driving my teachers mad with pencils on my desk. But of course, my parents wouldn't have any of it. I'd have to wait a good 14 more years before I'd be able to afford lessons and later, a kit of my own. Better late than never, right?

There will never be enough words to describe the impact Joey has had on my life. And it isn't just Slipknot, either. I could write another essay on his time with the Murderdolls and its influence on my own gender-non-conforming ways. Suffice to say, my wardrobe doesn't look too dissimilar to his during the early Dead in Hollywood days.

I told my boss I could not come into work today. I was grieving. I said that my music teacher died, as I didn't think she'd understand the magnitude of my loss. In a way, it's true. And I am not the only one Joey has nudged on the path to being a musician, that much is certain. To the rest of us, I wish strength and love for you in this difficult time. The best way to honour Joey, who truly loved music, both the creation and appreciation of it, is to pass that gift on. Teach it to someone. He is the reason I picked up the sticks in the first place, and one day, they'll be handed on, the heavy metal baton for the next generation.

And finally: remember that the ones we have lost are never truly gone.

Vinnie

P.S. See if you can spot me in the crowd photos in this post!

[suganovakawa]

𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐄 .

PAIRINGS : tooru oikawa x fem! reader , slight hajime iwaizumi x fem! reader

GENRE : angst , romance

WARNINGS : cursing , car accident , recovery from amnesia

SYNOPSIS : tooru doesn’t understand how special you are to him until he comes close to losing you forever . as he struggles to comes to grips with his feelings and balance it with his future , you still have to recover from your own injuries , but without your memories to assist you .

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐗𝐈𝐈 < [ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐗𝐈𝐈𝐈 ] > 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐗𝐈𝐕

enough is enough; it’s time to give hajime an ultimatum.

word count : 1.3k

saudade masterlist .

SAUDADE

( 𝐧 . ) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant , or that has been loved and then lost ; “ the love that remains ”

⠀"you've been silent ever since we got here." your eyes lazily met hajime's, which were strained with concern and confusion. "c'mon, if i'm paying, then you gotta at least tell me what's on your mind." he solidified his statement by reaching out to place his hand on top of yours, gently squeezing it within his palm. you enjoyed the warmth he radiated, though you remained silent and simply kept your hand there without reaction.

⠀you felt lost, more lost than ever before. more questions began to pile and stack up higher and higher, and not even a slimmer of an answer had shown itself yet. an endless labyrinth of mystery, that became worse with every turn you took. you were frustrated with yourself. you were frustrated with iwaizumi. you were frustrated with oikawa. you were frustrated with the world.

⠀"y/n." he said it more firmly this time, now getting impatient with your silence. "stop staring into space, i'm right here. you know you can tell me what's going on in your mind. i'll do my best to help or assist you in anyway i can."

⠀that was a lie, you knew it was, and he knew it was. you almost laughed. he'd tell you jackshit. he only wanted to help if it would make him look better in your eyes. why? did you hate him before everything happen? is he trying to make amends? is that why he refuses to tell you anything that would trigger any memories to clear up? what was he achieving by keeping your own life a secret? he had every answer you wanted, and wouldn't tell you anything from it.

⠀to make matters worse for yourself, now, you couldn't trust oikawa. there was something there. you felt it. your body, your nerves, your heart felt different. the atmosphere around the injured third year became different. your subconscious remembered something your brain hadn't picked up on yet. your body reacted on its own whenever tooru came into sight, your instincts telling you to flee, to get out of there as quickly as possible. you only had your instincts to trust at this point; instincts, and a gut feeling. even then, your gut feeling seemed to enjoy remain dormant.

⠀"it's nothing, hajime. i just didn't get enough sleep last night." you snapped at him lightly, your frustration building up as you sat back, removing your hand from his hold. "i'll be fine. thanks for taking me out today. i almost thought you'd forget."

⠀"never." his smile was almost arrogant, crossing his arms and sitting back in his own chair. "like i said, it's my treat. i wouldn't go back on my word."

⠀"right..." you were bored of him at this point. he was just fishing and hoping that you would praise him for his selfless actions. "it's friday, right? i've got nothing to do this weekend." you were partially talking to yourself, your thoughts still focused on finding ways to get your memories back. you had no leads, or clues; that wouldn't stop you from trying, though.

⠀"want to do something this weekend?" he shrugged. "not sunday, though. i'm a bit busy then. but saturday i'm free. i'll take you somewhere for the day. again, my treat."

⠀"you need to let me pay one of these days. i'm not entirely broke." you huffed and shook your head, before shrugging lightly to his suggestion. "i guess so. i've got nothing to do, either. i might sleep early tonight, though. i need it." that was a lie. you just wanted to get away from him for the rest of the day so you could do stuff on your own.

⠀"that's a good idea. sleep is important. you need your rest."

⠀you yawned to solidify the thought. "my thoughts exactly."

⠀"i'll text you tomorrow about it. for now, i'll just walk you home." you nodded, and in no time, the two of you walked out and as promised, he made sure to walk you all the way up to your front step. "here we are. i'll see you tomorrow, y/n."

⠀you took a chance. as he turned around to walk away, you grabbed his wrist, almost desperately, and pulled him back to turn him around. he was silent, but his eyes were fixated entirely on yours. you used this chance to look into his irises, to see any possible sign of him hiding something, anything from you. his eyes were completely unreadable. there was nothing there, but so many things all at once. like he had everything but nothing at his disposal. "please, hajime." you begged quietly, your lips quivering. "please, i just want to know something from before the accident. i want to remember. i want to recall. nothing has come back to me." he tried to pull away but you only grasped onto him tighter. "just one thing, hajime. that's all i ask for. tell me at least one thing if you can't tell me everything. stop hiding my life from me, please. i want to know what happened."

⠀he was considering it. you could see it as he moved his gaze away from you, now unable to maintain eye contact. he had stopped fighting your hand and stood there, almost defeated. you squeezed his hand one more time, as if to encourage him to say something.

⠀nevertheless, it failed. you wanted to cry as he quickly pulled his hand away from your grip, his jaw clenching as he seemed to be fighting something internally. "if you haven't remembered anything, it must be for a reason, then. maybe your conscience is trying to protect you from the pain your past self faced. you shouldn't fight it."

⠀"don't you get it?" you raised your voice at him, now just angry. "i don't care, hajime. i don't give a single shit. i don't care if it hurts me. i don't care how bad it was before the accident. i don't care if i killed someone before the accident, or committed any kind of crime. i don't give a shit. i just want to know! don't you understand? you have everything i want to remember, and you just dangle it in front of my face and mock me with it every single day. you have me wrapped around your finger and all i can do is pretend i'm doing fine."

⠀you pushed him away by the chest as he tried to step near you. "don't. don't hug me, don't touch me. i'm tired of you only painting yourself as my hero and knight in shining armor. you're keeping me in the dark, and i'm tired of it. i just want to remember, hajime." you pointed at him. "wouldn't you want to remember everything if you lost all of your memories?"

⠀he was speechless, but you were already done with today. you left the question rhetorical as you lowered your finger and turned around, opening the door hastily.

⠀"i'll think about it."

⠀you heard his voice, quiet and faint, like a whisper. "it's a lot to unpack, and i don't want to stress you out with it. but if you go out with me tomorrow, i... i'll think about telling you."

⠀"that's not how this is going to work." you snapped right back, your grip tightening around the doorknob. "if you aren't going to tell me, i'm not going with you anywhere tomorrow. the moment i find out you won't, i'm going home, and you aren't going to follow me. i hope i've made myself clear."

⠀you slammed the door in his face and watched him walk away from the window. once he was out of your line of vision, you took a deep breath. you did what had to be done. now, the decision was now in iwa's hands. it was an ultimatum. either he would come forward with the truth, or he could kiss your day, and friendship with him, goodbye. you were sick of it, this was your boiling point.

⠀you really hoped hajime would see your side.

a/n : i’ve got nothing. we’ll see what decisions are made in the next chapter :>

taglist ( closed ) — @ot127 @rena0921 @karlitabi-rrito @psychicpercyjacksonfan @crescentbitch @amelimiles @damnirina @pasta-warlord @blossomingbangtan @clinomanians @i-am-kinda-in-alot-of-fandoms @manq-fandoms @cirtruss @sugar-wara @haikoo @anime-simp @kairostatue @awkwardspontaneity @iwantapoptartqwq @aquariarose @softestdreamer @plantisnotplant @avylee @froppysgirl @that-animebitch @wisepandaslimeland @samanthaa-leanne @dumplingzumispam @0hakaashi @captain-janeway @afterglowkuroo @bellabelieveme @attixca @chickenrest @tycrackculture @ynjimenez @karaseijoh @lavieenblancetnoir @dabilove27 @cuddlesslut @crypto-s @keigosbitch@readeretal @shittykawaa @donghyuckster @adriloen @ella-solei @emiyummy @kukiisan@catyuyuyuu @sillykittt @dolan-mendes @kiritokunuwu @the-third-wall @yammerss @todohawki

[bad-bitch-beauchamp]

Songs About Me: Thistle & Bloom (CH7)

Jamie and Claire end up in Claire's shop. More revelations, a mysterious phone call, and exchanged promises. SO sorry about the gap between chapters! I've been pretty sick over here, and just needed a break to get better. I'm feeling better and glad to be writing again!

READ ON AO3

CHAPTER SEVEN

Claire Beauchamp’s front porch, a late October night, Louisburg Square, Beacon Hill, Boston

“Claire, I--” he swallowed and took a step back from her. She noticed that in the distance he created, his hand still held onto her waist. His fingertips pressed into her flesh and goosebumps erupted under the fabric. She met his eyes and sank into their ocean depths.

“I’d verra much like to kiss ye. May I?”

Words had never failed Claire before. She spent her free time letting sentences flow around her, wrapping her in warmth and comfort. Words were her solace and succor. When Jamie’s eyes flicked from her lips to her eyes in question , in longing , any word she thought of failed her completely. She nodded quickly, for it was all she could manage in the moment. Whatever she had been expecting from Jamie, whatever she expected a first kiss to be like with the stranger who had enchanted her from their first meeting, whatever she expected failed in comparison. Jamie leaned forward, and steeled himself with a slow swallow. Claire watched his throat bob with the effort, and for the first time, wondered to herself how much power he was holding unchecked in the moment. There wasn’t time to think before he had regained his composure and moved closer into her. His clear blue eyes had darkened to the color of Claire’s favorite coastline, and her breath caught in her throat. The moment she met his eyes, everything faded away. There were no words, no chill in the late October air, no more spiraling thoughts… there was just Jamie. His woody cologne swirled together with the scent of fallen leaves on wet, worn bricks; their air mingled together, and it was happening. His mouth found purchase with hers, softly, tenderly. He tasted like a smoke-filled whisky and something so inexplicably him. Had she been sober, she might have had the thought to hold back some, to not devour this man before her… but she wasn’t sober, and couldn’t have been with the intoxicating feel of him against her body and in her mouth. Her hands moved from his chest up his neck and into the curls at the nape of his neck. He moaned when her fingers moved upwards into his hair. “God, Claire…” His hands roamed around her waist and up the expanse of her back, down her ribcage and almost to her arse, but pulled back to crush her to him instead. She moaned in protest and he laughed breathily as he whispered, “Ye have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to kiss ye like this.” Claire smiled through his returning kisses. An arm snaked around her waist while the other ran up the length of her spine. She was being greedy, she knew it, and couldn’t stop it. Her tongue softly ran along his lips and he nearly spasmed at the contact. Apparently one little tease was all the invitation he needed -- a hand was in her hair, his tongue was in her mouth, her body was crushed against the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. They were playing a dangerous game, the two of them, and she was ready to explode with the fire he set in her.

“You’ll stay…?” He moved his mouth to her ear, nibbling her earlobe just a bit. “God, Jamie…”  Hot breath from a small chuckle made her skin erupt in shivers. “You’ll stay? Tonight?”

Stubble scratched her neck, soothed by wet kisses. “Hmmmm?”

She drew his face back to hers in her hands and kissed him soundly. “Come upstairs with me, Jamie.”

Navy orbs met dark gold ones in the glow of lamplight. He made for their mouths to meet again, but didn’t close his eyes. He released her finally, but kept a tight grip on her waist. “Yer so beautiful, Claire.”

She felt her cheeks burn at his compliments. How did he do that to her? Just a few words, a pointed look, a whisper in her direction and she was absolutely melted. She reached for his hand and moved to open her door, but Jamie stayed rooted to the spot.

“I cannae go inside wi’ ye tonight, mo nighean donn.” Surely she hadn’t heard him right. Was he rejecting her? She dropped his hand and stepped back, turning toward the door to turn her key in the lock.

What the fuck happens now? Claire turned, stood up straight, and outstretched her hand. “Well, this really has been a great night. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime?” She tried to keep the hurt off her face, but knew she was failing.

Jamie looked at her hand like it was a foreign object, and stepped forward. He took her small hand in both of his and brought her knuckles to his lips. “Claire, ye have to know how much I want tae go inside with ye. God, I’ve never wanted anything more than I want ye in this moment. But lass, I don’t just want this moment… I want so much more with ye. The way I feel about ye, I know ye feel it, too. I’m not willing to let this get out of hand. Ye mean too much to me. This, means too much to me. I’m going to do this right, mo chridhe.” Claire’s whole body had felt warm with adrenaline moments before, but now it surged with affection for Jamie. “If ye wanted to kiss me like that again though, I wouldna complain one bit, though,” he added with a smirk breaking through his serious facade.

Claire laughed in earnest and kissed him with all the passion she could muster. Her hand rested on his heart and it pounded faster with the seconds shared in their kiss. Before she was lost in him once again, she pulled away and he let out a strangled cry at the loss of her. His eyes hadn’t opened before she had completely extricated herself from him and had her front door open. “Goodnight, James!” she laughed.

---

“You’ll be the death of me, Sassenach!” The door was closed before he had time to recompose himself. He sighed and ran a hand through his mussed curls. He absolutely stood by what he said about wanting to honor what they had, and he had not planned on following her to bed tonight. He wouldn’t treat this like it was disposable or quick. Then again… no lass had ever kissed him the way Claire Beauchamp did. Before he could knock on her door and beg her to let him in, he forced himself off the porch and down the sidewalk. One more look at her windows, one more second in place thinking about her, and he’d end up back in her arms tonight. One day, lad. One day.

Jamie had mentioned he had to be at the bookshop the next day, and Claire had every intention of not bothering him at work. She had planned to answer a few emails and do some administrative work with a coffee and then head down to her own shop to work on propagating some of the rarer plants. She loaded her leather messenger bag with her laptop, notebook, writing notebook, an assortment of her favorite pens, and headed down the street. Twenty minutes and a large chai later, she aimlessly strolled toward her shop on Garden Street. She found herself drifting a few blocks south of the direction she should be headed in and a few blocks closer to Fraser Literature. Surely there was no harm in working at one of the tables in the courtyard at the bookshop, right? She wandered through the streets with a new purpose and was soon setting up shop at one of the familiar cafe tables outside her favorite shop. Had the store not been open today, she would have wasted the morning away there in the courtyard, letting the sun glow around her, warming her chilled surroundings. Alas, being a business owner was not exactly as freeing as someone may think and she had work to do. A while later, Claire was zoned-in on an email about variegated monstera deliciosa orders when a voice behind her nearly made her fall out of her chair.

“Whatcha working on today, Sassenach?” She clutched her chest and turned to see Jamie arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms, clearly pleased with his startling announcement of arrival.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, Jamie! Are you trying to give me a heart attack over here?”

“Ach no, jes’ reveling in the fact that ye clearly can’t get enough of me. Getting me drunk at dinner, encouraging puir decisions, the way ye kissed me last night, trying to get me into yer bed, and now, I find ye waiting for me outside my shop. I jes’ find it interesting , is all.”

“I was doing no such thing! This is just were I work! I’d been working here long before I knew this was your shop!”

“Likely story, Sassenach.” Claire assumed he was trying to wink, but in much the same way an owl does, he just blinked both clear blue eyes at her and scrunched up his nose, making Claire snort in laughter at his attempt.

“I do actually have to work, though, and now that I know you’re distracted, I should go so we both actually get something done today,” she said, and began to pack up her bags.

“Tis a timely distraction, actually!” Jamie handed her a yellow notebook and raised his brows when he gestured throwing her empty drink in the trash.

Claire nodded in response to the cup and continued to pack up. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“We’ve been getting some feedback from customers lately that they’re very much enjoying the ‘atmosphere’ of the store, and more and more people at checkout say they like all the plants hanging around! The boys and I were discussing taking that idea and running with it… kind of an arts experience, ken? The music, the books of course, and bring nature into it all. I’d like to add in some more plants, but dinna ken what would work best. Is there any way ye could help me figure it out? Maybe I could stop by your wee shop sometime and we could talk it out?”

Claire swung her bag over her shoulder and smiled at Jamie’s nervousness in asking her for something so… chill . “Of course you can stop by, Jamie! Actually, I’m headed there now, if you’d like to join?” His smile could have rivaled the sunshine for brightest thing in the courtyard. Claire waited inside the store’s entrance while Jamie told Angus and Rupert he’d be back in a while and noticed the way Jamie’s ears pinked at the tips when Angus leaned in to whisper something and Rupert playfully punched Jamie in the arm. She pretended to fuss with something on the bookshelf, but smiled to herself nonetheless.

“Ready, Sassenach?” Jamie was waiting by her side a few moments later. It was Claire’s turn to beam up at him.

“Always.”

---

Thistle and Bloom was Jamie’s second-favorite place in all of Boston. It was the word “thistle” that had originally drawn him into the shop shortly after moving to the city. It reminded him of home, of the Highlands, and of all the things that just felt like home. He had met the redhead behind the counter a handful of times, always hearing the owner was out back working, or gone searching for herbs, or otherwise occupied. He and Geillis had become friendly over the years, and the other lads had become more than friendly with her on more than one occasion. It was Geillis that had invited them all out to karaoke, and he would forever be grateful for how fate had worked in his life. Geillis, this shop, his bookstore, Scotland… all of it played a part in getting him here today, with Claire.

They approached the storefront and Claire absolutely beamed with pride. The outside of the shop was ornate for Boston, but beautiful. The building was brick, with a white-washed wood first story with large arched windows. Painted with forest green on the arches of the facade, a heavy naturally-stained wood had the name of the wee shop painted in gold lettering, and a heavy carved thistle painted in gold sat as the crowning jewel in the signage. English ivy crawled and sprawled up the planters on the sidewalk and up the white wood over the green arches and up the antique brick. Whisky barrels sat in front of the windows exploding with blooms in modern arrangements, like they had truly come to life in the most whimsical and elegant way. Now knowing it was Claire behind it all, everything made sense. He thumbed a rogue branch of the ivy, it’s Englishness not lost on him. Inside the store, Jamie saw it all with fresh eyes.

Jamie was a fair gardener -- truth be told, he hadn’t needed explicit help in finding the right plants for his store, but he’d near say anything to spend time with Claire. She nervously showed him around, occasionally muttering the scientific name of a houseplant or remarking about the rarity of another under her breath. Only once did she catch one yellowing leaf on something that trailed up the wall, and she plucked it off and shoved it in her jeans pocket. Jamie shook his head in exasperation at her -- didn’t she know, everything she did was perfect? They continued their little tour and examined every plant in the store for Jamie’s needs. Jamie occasionally hummed or nodded in agreement of Claire’s assessment of the plants, but he knew she really wasn’t talking to him. Sometimes, she’d look at Jamie or ask for his opinion on a plant, but otherwise, she existed in her own little world. Claire had amassed a collection of medium-sized plants on the counter she assured him wouldn’t be too much work but would flourish with his attention, and turned the most brilliant shade of pink when she caught sight of him watching her work.

Seeing that the shop was empty for the moment, Jamie moved in toward Claire. Watching her like this, in her element, so happy, he just wanted to kiss her again. Just steps away from her, she turned to him, smiling. One more step until bliss…

Jamie jumped. His phone rang loudly from his pocket. Rushing to silence it, he pulled it out of his pocket to a blonde woman’s smiling face on the Caller ID. He shut off the ringer and looked for Claire. She was shuffling plants at the counter, not really rearranging anything but trying to make herself busy nonetheless. Ifrinn. She saw the damned phone.

“So, Claire…” he was interrupted by a voicemail notication. He ignored it. “I was wondering if ye grow these plants yerself, or…” another loud beep followed by another indicated he was getting texts at a rapid pace. “Jesus, fuck!”

“If you need to get that, it’s really fine, Jamie!” Claire was trying for a breezy tone and failing miserably. She’d seen the beautiful woman on the phone. They never said they were exclusive or anything, it was awfully presumptuous of her to assume that in the two days they’d known each other, that he didn’t have any other ties. She was spiraling but a warm, steady hand brought her back down to reality.

“I dinna need to do anything, Sassenach. Nothing matters to me now except for being here with ye.” He gave her a reassuring smile, and with only the briefest hesitation to make sure she was caught up with his feelings, he kissed her chastley. “Now, I was asking how ye came to amasse such a small jungle.”

Claire smiled adoringly at Jamie, pushing any nagging thoughts about the mysterious caller to the side. “I’d like to show you something, if you can be away for a little while longer,” Claire said. Jamie nodded and followed her when she went out the back door of the shop.

Instead of finding a back door leading to an alleyway or a small yard, Jamie stepped into pure light. A white wooden door with paned glass led the way into the most beautiful greenhouse Jamie had ever seen. It was a few small rooms, each terraced with a few cement steps leading into the next. Slowly walking through, Jamie noticed each tiny room was a different biome: one for tropical plants, one for houseplants, one for cacti and sand-dwelling plants, and one with plants he’d never seen before. The windows were probably once crystal clear, but now the glass was clouded with condensation and moss in the corners. The cream paint on the window and door panes was chipping away in places, and the floor was covered in loose dirt and a few errant leaves. Everything was diffused light and shades of green and white and warm air. It was warm inside and Jamie wiped away a bead of sweat from his forehead. He turned to Claire, who stood in the far corner, awaiting judgment like a child. She smiled shyly, hugging herself and leaning against a potting bench. Her hair was conspiring with the humidity to add more curls to her head at an alarming rate, and she looked like the queen of her own personal Jumanji. Jamie had never seen a more ethereal sight in his life.

“Ye know, I always come here when I miss home,” he held a leaf the size of his own head in his hand and made his way along the rows of flora as he continued. “Scotland is so green, ken? I think it’s the thing I miss most. The traditions there are so old but it’s so green and fresh and new out in the moors and the lochs and munros. This shop, yer shop,” he smiled at her, “it always felt the way I felt about being home in Scotland.”

“Have I told you I grew up in Scotland?”

Jamie’s head snapped up at that. “Ye said ye were from Oxford?”

She nodded. “Yes, originally. I went to school in Oxford, and Oxford was where I thought I’d build my life. Actually though, in between travelling with my uncle, we’d always end up in Scotland. My uncle had a place in Glenfinnan?” Jamie’s jaw dropped. “I take it you know the place?”

“Aye! I’m from Inveraray!”

“I’ll jot that down in the list of things we have in common!” She laughed. “Anyways, he had a croft up there and we’d go all the time. It’s mine now, but I haven’t had time to make it back there after opening up shop here in Boston. Scotland holds a very special place in my heart, though. All the important moments in my life happened in the Highlands: my best birthdays, my first kiss, my biggest adventures, it’s where I went when I left my ex, when my uncle died…” Jamie came to her, stroking her arm when he saw her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “The highlands always felt wild and peaceful and magical to me. I wanted to have a slice of that here. It’s obviously for work, too, but this… this is my favorite place. My oasis. It feels…”

“Like heaven,” Jamie finished. The moment he said it, he almost wished he could take it back not because he didn’t mean it, but because it really did feel like heaven here with her.  

“Like heaven,” she repeated. He found her staring longingly at him, and he couldn’t help it then. He kissed her with as much admiration as he could possibly muster in a kiss, and it still didn’t feel like enough when she drew back for air.

“Having you here with me, in this place… This is more than I could have ever hoped for.”

“Make me a promise, Sassenach?”

Claire was puzzled. She brought him into her very favorite place, and he’s asking for random promises right now? “Yes, Jamie?”

“Promise me we’ll end up in Scotland together. I’ll take ye up the munros and down in the lochs and we’ll laugh and drive and get caught up in sheep herds together. We’ll drink ‘til we cannae walk we’ll talk about how the universe conspired to get us here. Me and you, mo nighean donn. Promise ye’ll let me follow ye around the world and back to the place we both love. Promise me that one day, we’ll get back there together.”

Despite knowing Jamie for such a short time, despite the day that was supposed to be a fun, non-committal one picking out plants, Claire found herself swimming in the depths of his ocean eyes with no plan to get out and dry off. Despite the rational part of her brain telling her she should not be making plans so soon, she saw an entire lifetime in his face. Maybe it was the ethereal atmosphere, maybe it was that he made her drunk on his presence alone, maybe it was magic that made her match his eyes and say, “Scotland it is. I’ll follow you anywhere.”

[haemosexuality]

Catra has been emotionally and physically abused and all her life, treated like trash, all while seeing her best friend - the person who was raised by her abuser - her love - being praised, "loved" (manipulated), favoritized . She had to hear the phrase "if you do anything to jeopardize her future, I will dispose of you (kill you) myself". And the only person she loved, Adora, left her for a bunch of strangers because "it was the right thing to do in a war, the horde hurts innocent people", but she was hurt by the horde her whole life in front of Adora. Isn't she enough? And now, once again, Adora is the hero and the good guy and the person chosen by destiny to end the war (She-ra), and Catra is the villain. Catra stayed in the horde all her life because Adora promised that "Nothing really bad can happen as long as we have each other, and soon we'll be the ones calling the shots", and then she left her. Catra grew up in Adora's shadow, and now Adora is no longer in the horde- now Catra is Force Captain, now Catra is a villain, now Catra has some power, she is feared, and she has a chance to show everyone that said to her - Adora indirectly, shadow weaver, her team - that she's weak that she is Not. And she has the power to be *more* than Adora, and she won't give that up.

And she's succeeding, she's winning the war, she defeated Shadow Weaver and took her place as Second in Command, and now she can even prove herself to Lord Hordak. Adora is losing, and Catra has people who believe in her more than anything (Scorpia). Then Shadow Weaver manipulates her, praising her, showing her affection, to get out of prison. And she's so happy, because even though she hates shadow weaver, she's her only parental figure and finally she's showing me affection finally she's not putting me down, just for Shadow Weaver to escape. And then Hordak learns that Shadow Weaver has escaped and Catra lied about it and sends her to die in a desert, and she's still without Adora, and she has lost everything. As she said, "Some people have a bad day. I've had a bad life. If I want something, it's taken from me. If I win the fight, I lose the war. Threats only work on someone who has something to lose- and I already lost it all". But Scorpia is there with her, and she wins fights in this desert, and she defeats gang owners, and she manages to capture Adora and her sword, she is far from Horde's dictatorship and militarism and finds out what a party is and she she's happy, genuinely happy, with Scorpia, and Scorpia even talks about them not coming back to the Horde and staying here and being happy together, but Catra grew up in the horde, her whole identity is formed around war and fighting and needing to have some power and prove herself to others and she needs to show to Hordak that she has captured Adora and the sword and that she is Strong and Capable- and then she discovers that when shadow weaver escaped she went to Adora. She manipulated Catra and destroyed her psychologically and made her lose everything she had achieved at the time to go to Adora. And now she's on the side of the "good guys", the person who abused her all her life is on the good side, and she's still the villain who lost everything and got screwed because of Adora - and she breaks down. She wants to end the whole world, literally open a portal that will destroy the world, because she has to win at least one thing and she has to get revenge she has to end everyone in a suicidal act- and she does it .

And she opens a portal that takes them into an alternate reality where no one remembers what happened in the last few months, and she's back together with Adora, and Shadow Weaver doesn't abuse her in this reality, and Adora and her are happy and joking and laughing. Except she knows that none of this is real and the real world is ending but here is so perfect, she never wants to leave. But Adora begins to remember too and she insists that Catra has to remember and that they have to get out of here and "save the world" and once again adora is the hero, once again she prefers to leave me and not be happy with me to "save the world", once again she does not choose me, and Adora goes to save this reality and takes Catra and insists that Catra comes with her to the good side of the war but Catra is angry, she is broken, she cannot live again in Adora's shadow and she wants Adora to die and she will not let Adora win again and she blames Adora for everything that's happened and the end of the world and for leaving her- but Adora, who also was manipulated by Shadow Weaver but already had more time to heal and get out of this abuse of hers, who knows that none of this is her fault- As she said "You (catra) made your choice, now live with it" and fucking PUNCHES catra in the face and even though they were on opposite sides of the war is the first time that Adora really hurt Catra like that, it was always Catra hurting her, and when Adora closes the portal and saves everything she looks with pure rage to Catra and she realizes that, now they're enemies. There's no going back anymore. This is the point of no return. Now it's real.

And Catra, who had said she had nothing left to lose, still had, and she lost it-lost Scorpia's friendship when she decided to open the portal, lost Adora for real now, and now she really has nothing left.

She made her choice, now she has to live with it.