#also found some jeans for husband too which is great cause he goes through them so quick lol

[ace-din-djarin]

My MIL took me shopping as a late birthday present and I couldn’t resist this shirt once I saw it 🥰

[thefanficmonster]

Your Enemy

Connor Walsh & Michaela Pratt (How To Get Away With Murder)

Warnings: Angst, Eating Disorder, Swearing, Trauma, Anxiety, Spoilers for HTGAWM Season 1, Mentions of Murder

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationship

Summary: Following the most stressful events she’s ever had to deal with in her life, Michaela is forced to face a demon she thought she had left in her past. Luckily, this time she doesn’t have to deal with it on her own and has the support of a person she deemed least likely to ever come through for her.

Requested by Anon. Hello darling! I’m so happy to be hearing you’ve completed a full year of ED recovery! I’m very proud of you for having fought such a tough battle and came out of it a the bravest, strongest winner. Hope you enjoy the fic and hope it doesn’t trigger any bad memories. If it does, please let me know wo I can change it up. Love and care about you lots, Vy ❤

It’s been almost a month now. Almost a month since she was involved in the murder and dismemberment of her professor’s husband who her and her classmates were sure was the killer of a college student by the name of Lila Stangard. A month and she still can’t stomach any of it - a month during which she hasn’t stomached much else either. 

It all started the morning after the murder when she was still a distressed and disheveled mess, a nervous wreck that refused to leave the confinement and safety of her home and face the world out of fear of getting that stamp and punishment she knew she deserved. She knew she was basically a criminal in hiding. They all were and it was frustrating as all hell to see them all putting up with it so well like that murder wasn’t their first or their last. They almost came off as though they felt they did the right thing - rid the world of one more disgusting prick which Sam undoubtedly was, but that still wasn’t on them to decide. What they did was still a crime, they were still killers and would get charged as ones if this was ever to be found out by any law enforcement.

And Michaela Pratt could barely live with herself.

That first week her stomach was in constant knots that would tighten at the mere mention of food. Therefore, she lived solely on liquids that supplied her with faux energy and nothing nutritious that her body could work with. Then it became a habit. Well, it had more so to do with the fact that she looked in the mirror one day after showering and noticed the sudden change in her body, how it seemed smaller and, in her eyes, prettier than before. She liked the ‘improvement’ and wanted to hold onto it, linking it to her new eating habits she decided to stick to them. Though, they can’t really be called ‘eating habits’ considering she spent a great deal of time not eating anything at all, leaving large gaps between each tiny meal and drinking significantly more black coffee. She even developed the bad habit of smoking - a way for her to get out of the room whenever the rest of the Keating 5 were on a lunch break.

She hated the familiarity of it all, but there was also a certain dose of comfort to it. She had faced this demonic entity that resides within the very mind of the troubled person and that’s why she wasn’t scared. It felt more like opening the flood gates she had barely managed to shut and keep closed in the first place. Hell, it was almost relieving to open them up again, allow the inevitable to finally happen.

Having to lie about eating, having to renew her wardrobe with clothes of a smaller size - and some larger ones to hide the sudden change in - and dealing with dry and cracked skin, chipping nails and thinning hair were only few of the hiccups Michaela started facing when her weight loss became more significant and apparent, so much so that the Keating 5 were starting to worry. She was used to lying and making up stories about it. After all, this wasn’t her first time going down the dangerous lane that is undereating and abruptly losing a ton of weight. As mentioned, she dealt with it as a teenager for almost two years. Eventually, her lies started becoming see-through, causing her family to force her into recovery which eventually worked - took her a while to cooperate, but she managed to be convinced her life was to be lived properly. Her success was to be earned in more ways than boney limbs and vertigo every time she stood up. She came to the realization that the world was a crueler place than she had anticipated. It was a warzone she needed to be strong to face and, having become thin as a stick and mentally rattled she was terribly underprepared for facing and battling any of it. 

Michaela Pratt decided she deserved better - chose to toughen up and take the bull of her life by the horns and control it properly. She finally became the one really in control - not her self-destructive side, but her rational, fighter side. The warrior in her decided enough was enough.

However, for her, there’s never such a thing as enough.

Sensing it was a delicate and rather triggering subject, the members around the Keating household were more than reluctant on touching the topic and asking at least one of the many questions they always had in mind.

Why do you suddenly wear such wide clothes?

Why do you no longer put sugar in your coffee?

What’s with those bags under your eyes? You haven’t been getting much sleep?

How come you always have a big breakfast even when you wake up late?

Why do you never eat?

Those and so many more questions swarmed the heads of her friends but none of them were brave enough to say anything. No one went to look for her around lunchtime to see where she goes to hide during that period. No one mentions their suspicions and doubts about her statements. No one dares to point out that she’s become a ghost of the Michaela they previously knew. She’s not as fierce as she used to be - not the same way. She just snaps at people, throwing empty insults at them. Her focus has dropped significantly and she often times falls asleep while on the clock, working on the case. They all see it but they all choose to be passive on-lookers, by-standers, no one sporting the guts and bravery to bring it up and ask her or express worry.

Well, no one except the brutally honest and straight forward Connor.

“And here I was wondering where our Shooting Star had fallen.“ He says, making his presence known verbally only after he snatched the pack of cigarettes from Michaela’s hand, startling her to no end. “Since when do you smoke, by the way?”

“None of your goddamn business.“ She hisses back at him, reaching for the stolen pack like an angry tigress. “Give them back, asshole.“

She’s stopped in her futile yet hostile attempts of retrieving the stolen cigarettes when Connor grabs one of her arms and develops a downright terrified look on his face: eyes wide, mouth hanging slightly open, confusion, shock and concern in his gaze. That’s a rare combination for him - someone who’s supposedly super laid-back and careless. That concern is what hits her the hardest. It catches her so off-guard she puts her movements to a halt and just stares back at him for a few seconds, both of them deciding what to say.

“Michaela, what have you done to yourself? What are you doing to yourself?“ He asks her, still not letting go of her arm which feels tiny in his grip. His fingers loosen their hold instinctively, as if afraid that any more pressure could break it. “Are punishing yourself for what happened to Sam?“

Michaela returns to her senses, shaking her head and frowning as she yanks her arm out of his grip. “Nothing happened to Sam!” She whisper-yells, narrowing her eyes, glaring at him with a fiery intensity, “Don’t talk like he died of a heart attack or in a car accident. We happened to him. We fucking killed him, Connor! Come to terms with that already!”

“Scream that louder, will ya? A more perfect confession doesn’t exist.“ Subtly, he slips the pack in the back pocket of his jeans, the movement flying under Michaela’s radar since she’s so laser-focused on his face and the subtle changes in his expressions. “Seriously, what the hell are you doing? Is this the punishment you think you deserve?”

She rolls her eyes, “That’s fucking nonsense. It’s no punishment, I just wanna fit into my wedding dress come the time I have to walk down the aisle.“

“So fitting into your wedding dress is the priority? Tell me, what will your hairdresser and make-up artist gonna say when they see your cracked and bruised skin, your thinned hair, the massive bags underneath your eyes. Also, are you even gonna fit in the dress or is it gonna hang on you the way it would on a stick figure.“

“Shut up! Connor, my life, my appearance and my eating habits are none of your business. You can’t play the caring enemy and fuck with my head - hating me one minute caring about me the next. It really doesn’t suit you, in fact, it’s below you.“

“Michaela, I’m not your enemy.“ He taps her temple with his finger, getting his hand smacked away about a second later, “That brain of yours is currently your enemy, not me. You need to get rid of it.“

“But what if I can’t?!“ She snaps, her eyes glistening with tears Connor didn’t expect to see, “What if that’s all I have? That me who’s constantly whispering to me that I don’t need nor deserve food - she’s stuck with me longer than anyone else has. She’s been with me since I was fifteen, Connor. Fifteen! She never left, even when I tried to push her away and chase her out of my head. She stayed there, and now she’s helping me. You wouldn’t understand! You don’t have dresses to fit in, people to please, your own criteria to fulfill! You don’t even feel like you deserve punishment for what you did! You dismembered a human being, Connor! When are you gonna come to terms with the fact that you’re a murderer?!“

“When you come to terms with the fact that you’re killing yourself, Michaela!“ He too snaps, unable to control his emotions when faced with a literal life or death situation - one regarding his friend on top of all.

No, she’s not my friend. I’m just doing what any person would do in this scenario, he convinces himself. Turns out there are several facts Connor Walsh can’t come to terms with - caring about his biggest rival is one of them.

“She’s not your friend, Michaela! She doesn’t want anything good for you. She’ll end up leading you to your death if you keep listening and trusting her! That Michaela is the one deserving of punishment, not you. Don’t let her overpower the rational Michaela I met that day, the first day of class. The one I wanted to strangle for being so cocky and self-centered and was stealing my spotlight. The one who left me in the dust a few too many times for me not to respect her. She could kick the self-destructive Michaela’s ass. Let her.“

A choked sob escapes Michaela’s throat as a result of Connor’s speech. The last thing she expected was support and help - she was prepared for the mocking, the sympathy and pity, the ‘Seriously? Get over it, will ya?’ or the ‘It’s all in your head. Just eat, damn it.’ she grew used to hearing the first time she was dealing with an eating disorder. If she wasn’t still herself she would’ve probably even given him a hug - one she’d regret later - but she remained in her spot, arms folded over her chest, nodding slowly.

“Thank you, Connor. But it’s not as easy as you make it sound.“ She sniffles, her gaze wandering elsewhere, embarrassed by how she broke down in front of him just now. Lord knows she’ll be even more pissed later, but right now she’s got other things on her mind. Something she hadn’t even brushed upon before this conversation with Connor - recovery. She’s not used to seeking help from anyone for anything, especially not something she saw as her superpower until someone forced her eyes open. Forced the epiphany on her that she’s not living, she’s killing herself.

“Of course it’s not easy. That’s why no one does it alone, you know.“ Hesitantly, very very hesitantly, he lifts his hand, cautiously placing it on Michaela’s shoulder. “People reach out for support and go talk to professionals. You don’t have to do this alone. In fact, you can’t do this alone.“ He pauses, waiting for her gaze to meet his. When it does, he continues, “I won’t let you.“

Never did Michaela expect support from anyone, never did she want or need it. But here she is receiving it from the person she thought least likely to offer it. Never did she think there’d come a day when her arms, as if on autopilot would, wrap around Connor Walsh in a tight embrace of gratitude. While pretty startled, he manages to return the hug after blinking once or twice to comprehend the situation.

“Thank you.“ He hears her whisper and that’s more than he ever thought he’d get from her.

“Don’t mention it.“ He lets a small smile slip onto his face as his hold on her tightens ever so slightly.

[arecomicsevengood]

More Quarantine Movies

Going to put up this log of what I’ve seen now, as some of the stuff I liked the most is leaving The Criterion Channel at the end of the month. I really don’t know if anyone gets anything out of these posts, these are mostly synopses and they’re maybe spoiler-heavy. Let me give you the gist of it now: Otto Preminger’s a really good filmmaker whose movies are really interesting, Jean Arthur’s a great actress who enlivens everything and is also in a bunch of good-to-great movies. Also, I didn’t write about it but I rewatched Death Race 2000, that movie rules, feels relevant to today’s politics, and is leaving Criterion Channel at the end of the month.

The Pawnbroker (1964) dir. Sidney Lumet

Based on novel by Edward Lewis Wallant, whose The Tenants Of Moonbloom was reprinted by NYRB Classics with a Dave Eggers intro. Also some of the earliest nudity in a mainstream American film. About the misanthropy of a holocaust survivor, living in New York City, and interacting with black people who vaguely feel like racist caricatures, in part because it’s a movie about a misanthrope told from his perspective. A ton of movies about race from this era feel dated, this feels legitimately edgy, which is a term that gets thrown around somewhat ironically now or viewed as a pejorative, like something trying to offend, this does feel like a genuine attempt to be honest and push things forward (I really was not expecting that nudity) but also doesn’t feel totally successful, definitely not particularly enjoyable.

Shockproof (1949) dir. Douglas Sirk

I haven’t seen Sirk’s later melodramas, this one intrigued me in part because the screenplay was written by Samuel Fuller, and it’s sort of a pulpy noir thing. A woman, fresh out of jail, ends up living with her parole officer who is trying to keep her on the straight and narrow and away from her criminal ex, but they end up falling in love. There’s a thing where the male lead’s younger brother talks about how the lady is beautiful that I sort of wish wasn’t in there, feels creepy to me. There’s a bit of a shift in the narrative with the third act, where the lovers end up on the run, the once-upstanding man now a criminal on account of love, but they are having the endurance of their love tested by circumstance, is one of those things where a story which felt somewhat unique over the course of its telling shifts into something more recognizable.

…And The Pursuit Of Happiness (1986) dir Louis Malle

I have watched most of Louis Malle’s feature films at this point, I believe, and had a vague curiosity about what his documentaries were like. This one, made shortly after he’d moved to the U.S. and married Candice Bergen (something that comes up in Susan Seidelman’s Smithereens, in that some prostitutes read aloud from a fashion magazine that discusses it) he made a film talking to various recent immigrants. He covers a lot of ground, covering people working as doctors, large communities living in housing projects and causing racial tension with black neighbors (who both resent the smell of the food they cook but also suspect they don’t know their rights as the property developers plan to evict everyone and have the projects demolished). By and large everyone spoke to believes in the notion of the American dream of working hard to get ahead. Malle also speaks to anti-immigration think tank people and border patrols. Nothing too surprising but a lot of ground gets covered in a short amount of time. If I didn’t learn anything I at least admired that it felt non-didactic. Anything with more of a point of view or an argument would probably be disingenuous were it to present itself as enlightening.

The Baron Of Arizona (1950) dir. Samuel Fuller

Based on a true story, although with fictionalized elements, about a dude (played by Vincent Price) who becomes a master forger to falsify land grants and claim the entire state of Arizona as his own. Not a great movie, though that’s an interesting story. I bet I could guess what elements were made up for the sake of making a movie out of it, it has this tension of being interesting and unbelievable (although unbelievable by way of rote moviemaking formula), but also the story takes place over an extended period of time and so has some of the structureless feeling of a biopic.

House On Haunted Hill (1959) dir. William Castle

I’m going to confuse this with The Haunting Of Hill House for my entire life, that’s just the way it is. This stars Vincent Price, who’s always great, doing the famous premise where a group of people meet up to spend the night at a haunted house to win money. Vincent Price has a contentious relationship with his wife, who’s openly contemptuous of him and wants his money. There’s a moment where everyone at the house party is given a gun, each in a coffin. There’s a few “twists” all sort of being of the “there was a rational, non-ghost reason for everything” although any of them individually sort of strain the limits of credulity as something that works as a hoax. Vincent Price is basically not the villain, so much as his wife is, although he’s such a ham that loves being creepy that this again strains credibility in that the conclusion of the movie plays against the style with which the previous action has been presented. An enjoyable viewing experience.

My Name Is Julia Ross (1945) dir. Joseph Lewis

This one’s about a woman, looking for work, who falls into a scheme that kidnaps her and puts her up in a mansion, where she’s kept drugged and basically is told to assume the identity of a woman who was killed. I found this one pretty nerve-wracking, as it’s pretty nightmarish, basically about psychological torture. I found this one under Criterion Channel’s Columbia Noir collection, but before these films were considered noir, they were thought of as melodramas, but it’s also sort of a horror film about being gaslighted. There’s a part where they remove a stairwell and try to trick her into falling down? What’s funny is that one of the things that sort of separates this from horror is how quickly it resolves, whereas later work would I think give the audience the satisfaction of seeing the villain be punished in some way, the ending that just goes “then everything worked out alright” ends up making the structure feel more like the whole movie’s reason for being is just to see the protagonist suffer.

God Told Me To (1976) dir. Larry Cohen

Did I write about this already? I watched that a few months ago. Pretty wild basis in seventies grit about people going crazy, committing murders, then goes to a weird/confusing place involving some sort of holy entity in human form, the police procedural aspect butting up against this strangeness which doesn’t feel entirely thought through, and is in fact sort of incoherent, makes for a movie that is, in fact, still pretty good and worth watching although a bit tedious by the end.

Zombi Child (2019) dir. Bertrand Bonello

This I guess just came out in America this year, to the extent that anything came out this year, in theaters, it coming to streaming is basically its release. The zombies in this are of the old-school voodoo sense, taken seriously as a system of belief juxtaposed against French colonialism, as a Haitian teen feels at odds with her circle of friends, flashbacks to Haiti occur. When you watch a bunch of older movies new movies just seem to be not as good. Bonello’s not a bad filmmaker though, he’s able to capture a sort of sensual aspect of particular moments and moods, just not in a way where they then coalesce into a narrative of shifting emotion.

Anatomy Of A Murder (1959) dir. Otto Preminger

This movie is close to three hours long.  It has a Law And Order procedural quality, taking up much of its second half with a courtroom drama, where Jimmy Stewart does a proto-Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer routine. He’s protecting a man accused of murdering the woman who raped his wife. The subject was surely shocking for its time. It becomes pretty clear, extremely quickly that the husband is an abusive piece of shit, but the main thrust of the narrative is still tasked with following the lawyer trying to get him off. Lee Remick, from Experiment In Terror plays the beautiful and doomed wife, who flirts with Jimmy Stewart. Some of these interactions feel weird from a modern perspective, because Stewart’s reaction is like “Yes, you’re a beautiful woman and any red-blooded American male would enjoy looking at you, but it is my duty as a lawyer to paternalistically insist you cover up!” Preminger is sort of known for pushing the envelope, and this one has a lot more talking about sperm and Lee Remick’s vagina than you’d expect. One of the things that’s meant to be a “quirky character detail” is that Jimmy Stewart is into jazz- The score, by Duke Ellington, is great, but there’s also a pretty corny cameo by Duke Ellington where Jimmy Stewart sits in with him, a second pair of hands on the piano. Still, I guess it’s better that he physically appears in the movie than there just being a scene where it implies Duke’s music is played by Jimmy Stewart, as the music is way too good to just be a lawyer’s quirky hobby. George C Scott, from Hardcore, plays the legal expert on the other side. After being pretty long, there is this sort of abrupt, (although well-foreshadowed) downbeat ending, where the jealous and abusive husband flees town to avoid paying his lawyer and to go somewhere quiet he can beat his wife to death, but said ending is played for this “you can’t win them all I guess, shame about the lower classes” quality from Stewart, who is dead broke all movie but seems like he just enjoyed being able to do work for once, even if it’s for a total shitbag. Good movie! Feels thorny and interesting.

Bunny Lake Is Missing (1965) dir. Otto Preminger

This is even better. Great Saul Bass credits sequence too. A psychological thriller where the disappearance of a child gives way to the police not being able to confirm the child is real, and doubting the mother’s sanity, becoming pretty nightmarish, dreamy, and exhilarating by turns. Gets to a place of “huh, I wonder what is going on” and then when that finally resolves there’s a pretty extended sequence of silent escaping/hiding, which is, one of those things that films do really well and is super-satisfying. It plays out amidst this background filled with interesting supporting characters, who all, for the first half of the movie, feel like moving parts in this somewhat inscrutable narrative machine.

The Man With The Golden Arm (1955) dir. Otto Preminger

This one I don’t like. Stars Frank Sinatra, who I find annoying, as a recovering heroin addict who relapses again. While I normally like the sort of scenery-chewing supporting cast that shows up in Preminger things, I really didn’t Sinatra’s nerdy best friend, or his wife with Munchausen’s syndrome. While with the other Preminger movies there’s this feeling of a slow reveal of what the plot is with this one I feel like as soon as you know that Sinatra is out of rehab (which you learn pretty quickly) you can guess the movie will be about how he relapses and then tries to get sober for real.

The Human Factor (1979) dir. Otto Preminger

Preminger’s final movie, based on a Graham Greene novel, featuring Iman making her film debut. Movie is mostly about intelligence agencies seeking out the mole in their mist, with intentions to kill whoever it is once they’re certain. It stars Richard Attenborough, as the source of the leaks. Halfway through the story becomes interspersed with flashbacks about Attenborough and Iman’s romance upon meeting in Africa. Continues the habit of ending on a moment that maybe feels like it should be expanded upon or made more resonant.

Bonjour Tristesse (1958) dir. Otto Preminger

This stars Jean Seberg as a teenager being raised by a single father, David Niven, who’s kind of a cad/ladies man who’s very permissive with his daughter, who seems likely to grow up rich and spoiled and find another rich man to take care of her. Deborah Kerr plays the woman who Niven ends up falling in love for real with, and the conflict is then between this woman taking on a maternal role and a daughter who is resentful of this. Deborah Kerr is in Black Narcissus, a movie I love, and here she comes off as smart, the voice of reason. Seberg destroys her father’s relationship by taking advantage of his sort of innate desire to flirt and be liked by women, driving Kerr to commit suicide, and the whole film is then told in flashback by Jean Seberg a year later, as she flirts with boys but has a great sadness and emotional distance about her, which is both inherited and self-inflicted. I’m partly just writing these plot summaries as my way of remembering what these movies are about, but this one is nice because I get to account for complicated characters who are both pretty eminently understandable. I keep getting hung up on the fact that movies today now have a much dumber idea of what a female character is. Maybe it’s something as basic as the fact that, as people read less, it’s rarer for literary novels to be adapted? As I talk in terms of “less good roles for women nowadays,” which is a cliche, it’s obvious enough that bad roles for men follow, as everyone is only as good or interesting as who they’re playing off of.

It’s also funny to think, in this era of “comic book movies,” that very few artists can make a character come to life with body language and facial expression the way an actor can. “Literary” cartoonists like Dan Clowes or Tomine play into the mask quality drawing creates, generating inscrutability as part of their effect. Many of the biggest names in “noir” comics are removed from the melodrama elements of actor’s performance in favor of an aesthetic based on paperback covers, which makes for something far less lively. Meanwhile, Blutch is an amazing artist who would probably do a great job telling lively character studies in a genre form, but he’s way more preoccupied with these Godard-style interrogations of film’s cultural meaning.

Separate Tables (1958) dir. Delbert Mann

From the same year as Bonjour Tristesse, and also featuring David Niven and Deborah Kerr. Deborah Kerr’s good in this- while she is sort of uptight in a maternal way in Bonjour Tristesse, here she’s sort of crippled by repression her mother imposes on her. It’s a totally different character, but she remains defined by various manifestations of repressed energy; I would say she’s most known for playing a nun in Black Narcissus. She’s again opposite Niven in a sort of romantic context, though Niven’s character is meant to be a neurotic freak and he’s not really convincing in that capacity. I couldn’t really work out what the deal is with Niven’s character, he gets arrested in a theater, seemingly because he takes his dick out to show women? Or that’s how I interpreted what was being discussed, but he’s mostly defended by everyone except this lady you’re supposed to hate for how domineering and judgmental she is so maybe it’s something less bad. I honestly couldn’t figure it out because it seemed like the thing I was guessing they couldn’t talk about. This movie also features Burt Lancaster and Rita Hayworth as a couple that broke up once before and are reuniting now. This movie is pretty dull in a way I didn’t know whether to attribute to it being British or it being based on a play, as it feels extremely both.

Seance On A Wet Afternoon (1964) dir. Bryan Forbes

This one’s British too, and features the quality I recognize from British television, where the stars are not attractive, which always feels surprising. This one’s got a pretty great title, and a great premise. This woman, a professional psychic, convinces her husband to kidnap a child so she can comfort the parents and get publicity. The cinematography’s great. I got pretty nervous watching this, I think I am feeling more sensitive to movies as of late, way more willing to find things upsetting and nerve-wracking than usual. I can partly attribute this to the feeling of taking something in from a different cultural context, that leaves me unsure what to expect, but it’s also true that nowadays I sort of constantly have this feeling of “I don’t know how bad things are going to get” about the world in general, and it makes sense that I would apply that to films.

Only Angels Have Wings (1939) dir. Howard Hawks

Jean Arthur’s amazing in this - saw her the first time in The Devil And Miss Jones and then there’s this whole Criterion Channel featurette video running through what her whole deal is: This vulnerability/innocence crossed with an attempted toughness that really is very charming. Here she plays an entertainer just stopping briefly in town who gets hit on by some pilots, and develops feelings of impossible love for a man (played by Cary Grant) whose insistent toughness and refusal to show fear (despite having a dangerous job, of a pilot, that makes everyone who cares about him fall to pieces with nervousness). It’s this very universal type of entertainment, where there’s all these special effects shots of planes flying and a drama of men being men that’s nonetheless anchored by this love story, carried by the fact that Jean Arthur is very real and complex. She’s also a legit comedic actress, which I think makes her feel richer and more watchable than someone without a sense of humor would be. Rita Hayworth plays Grant’s ex, a woman who couldn’t take his daredevil ways but is now married to another pilot who has to do dangerous flights essentially to make up for an act of cowardice that got someone else killed. She’s got her own charisma obviously (and Cary Grant’s equally solid, in this sort of old-Hollywood glamor way) but Jean Arthur feels very alive in a way that carries the movie.

The Talk Of The Town (1942) dir. George Stevens

This one also stars Jean Arthur opposite Cary Grant, but it’s less interesting, partly because of a domestic setting and some stale-seeming comedy. Cary Grant plays Lionel Dilg, (great name!) who breaks out of prison and hides out in Jean Arthur’s attic, with a hobbled ankle, while a preeminent legal scholar moves in. There’s a love triangle between the three of them, and a friendship between the escapee and the scholar. Grant’s been unfairly framed for arson for political reasons by his boss for pointing out the factory where he works is a death trap. The people of the town are easily turned against this sort of leftist agitator  by a last and biased judge. Insanely enough, there’s a movie called “The Whole Town’s Talking” also starring Jean Arthur but it has no relation to this one.

The Ex-Mrs. Bradford (1936) dir. Stephen Roberts

Upon realizing that many of these Jean Arthur movies were leaving the Criterion Channel at the end of the month, I started taking more in. This is a murder mystery, with screwball comedy accents, and again I’d say it’s really good, although the “comedy” premise wherein a woman sort of plows through the life of a man with no real respect for personal boundaries is the sort of thing that works in a movie even though it seems totally nightmarish when looked at from a certain angle. She writes mysteries, he’s a doctor, people are getting murdered. He is played by William Powell, from The Thin Man movies, which maybe these resemble. I guess the bickering couple that solves mysteries is a trope but it’s one that I don’t think has had any currency in popular culture since Moonlighting, which was in my lifetime but before I would have had any awareness of it. (I would probably enjoy it up until the point where I got bored of the formula.) I thought this was great and would make a good double feature with L’Assassin Habite au 21.

History Is Made At Night, 1937, dir. Frank Borzage

This has Jean Arthur in it too, but the reason I became aware of it was Matt Zoller Seitz tweeting about it. Partly this is because the description on the Criterion site is so bare-bones it barely seems like anything, but it turns out this is because the plot is completely insane and has a ton of twists and to talk about them very quickly veers into spoiler territory. It is, in brief, a love story. The first totally insane in it is the handsome male lead does the “drawing a ventriloquist puppet on his hand” thing and the woman’s totally on board. An element that doesn’t spoil the plot, but does seem somewhat incongruent with the tone, is there’s a French chef character for a comic relief. It’s really good. I’m pointing out the lightest element but the story’s villain is believably sociopathic.

Secrets (1933) dir Frank Borzage

Not nearly as cool or good. While History Is Made At Night feels like a cohesive story that’s just pretty crazy, this one feels divided into acts that have nothing in common with each other. First act is romance, between a rich man’s daughter and his banker. They run away together. I’m basically unsure of when this movie takes place timewise, the rich lady is wearing massive layered gowns I know would’ve been out of fashion by 1933. The second act is a western where they make a home together and have to fight off bandits! But the action is shot in a a pretty disinterested manner. Third act, I’m pretty on edge and bored, but the banker is now the governor of California and is having an affair with another woman, and they’re at a party together, and then the ending feels epilogue style as they’re both old as hell and they have fully-grown children and they’re talking about how they’re taking their leave of the kids to discuss their secrets. Female lead is Mary Pickford in her final film role. I guess this is a remake of a silent film, which was itself based on a play. Yeah this movie sucks basically.

Bitter Moon (1992) dir. Roman Polanski

Sure, I’ll watch a sex criminal’s erotic thriller that’s way too long. Hugh Grant is a married guy on a boat who has a French dude talk about all the sex he and his wife have because he knows Hugh Grant wants to fuck his hot wife. Said wife is played by Emmanuelle Seigner, Roman Polanski’s actual wife since 1989. This is a bad movie by pretty much any metric. It kinda feels like the social function of erotic thrillers is not to be a more socially-acceptable form of pornography, but rather to be pervy enough to remind the audience why you shouldn’t talk about sex publicly and have that be your whole thing. The French, of course, misunderstand this.

The Burglar (1957) dir. Paul Wendkos

Another noir, written by David Goodis. This one is a little formulaic, in terms of what you think of crime movies as being “about.” A burglar, who learned the trade from his adopted father, works with that man’s daughter to commit heists. His gang doesn’t like her. Once the two of them are separated, a corrupt cop seeking to steal a burgled necklace for himself tries to pursue a relationship with her as a means to an end, while a woman allied with him works on the burglar. A drive to New Jersey gets stopped by cops, violence quickly escalates to make the situation more dire. Members of the gang die. Not a bad movie but by no means essential.

My Brother’s Wedding (1983) dir. Charles Burnett

Criterion Channel removed the paywall for a bunch of Black-made independent films, this is one of them, Burnett’s follow-up to Killer Of Sheep. Seemingly starring non-professional actors, it’s about the conflict a guy feels as his brother is planning to get married to a rich woman he resents, and the loyalty he feels to a guy who just got out of prison who everybody hates. The main character is a good dude who wants to help out this pretty dangerous friend the best he can. The film captures his pride and resentment.

Dial M For Murder (1954) dir. Alfred Hitchcock

A few iconic-seeming shots of Grace Kelly in the role of a Hitchcock blonde, i.e. her standing at a phone while someone looms behind her about to choke her, and later standing traumatized. Suffers a bit from clearly being based on a play, with a ton of dialogue, particularly in the second act. The first act is able to provide this very particular type of satisfaction, where someone outlines a “perfect crime” in dialogue and then we see it play out and it falls apart and happens completely differently. It’s funny the criminal gives themselves away due to mistaking one key for another, because this sort of structure really does feel like a key fitting into a lock, things perfectly designed for one another, parceled out at the right time.

[baseballbitch116]

Welcoming Party

Prompt: The reader and Daryl give Deanna’s party a chance

Word count: 2153

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, shower scene but no smut

[ The gif is not mine, they never are... - I loved this scene soo much, my poor Daryl :( ]

When Deanna told the group of her plans of hosting a welcoming party for you and your friends, you were caught off guard. The first reason being the most obvious; a party? In this... Maybe she just meant people gathering together to meet you. But no, when she said to dress nice, and that there would be food and music and drinking... You were stunned. How? How had these people gotten so lucky? You had been out there, barely eating, on the run, nothing but dirty blood stained clothes on your back... And they had all of this.

You stood there looking at her in shock, not responding. “I know, it will take some getting used to. I hope you’ll stop by.” Deanna continues, giving your arm a small squeeze, then leaving your front door. You close it slowly, going over what she just told you. Daryl was standing in the dining area, leaning against the wall, listening into the conversation.

His fears crept back up, know he doesn’t belong in this sort of neighborhood or environment. He was already accustomed to living off nature on his own, before the world went to shit. He didn’t change like the way everyone around him had, not in that way. It was just a worse version of what he already lived. So maybe now that there were normal guys around and you were starting to try to go back to what used to be comfortable and normal, you would second thought being with Daryl…

After talking with Rick, he decided that everyone should at least make an appearance, in order to ‘show our appreciation’ to Alexandria and its residents for taking you in. A woman that you hadn’t yet met stopped by the houses your group split into to fetch the women in order to find some nice clothes for the party. It was very bizarre to you, the whole process, but it actually became enjoyable. Sasha was clearly having a hard time, still grieving all that she had just recently lost; and now she comes to see these people basically living a dream. You felt for her, it was upsetting, but you had to move past it. This needed to work.

Maggie was cautious but clearly a little excited to try to get some normalcy back. She picked out a pretty dark blue knee-length dress to wear, and asked to woman if she had a dark blue tie for Glenn to match her with. You smiled and shook your head, enjoying seeing your friend like this. She almost lost herself out there, after Beth.

You didn’t want to dress up, but you also didn’t want to be the only one under-dressed, so you went with a simple black dress that ended mid-thigh. You were pretty nervous for Daryl’s reaction to seeing you in this, you don’t want to scare him off.

When you got back to the house, the sky was beginning to dim, so you decided to start getting ready. Daryl entered the bedroom you and him shared, wearing what he always does, still not looking like he has showered. “You aren’t gonna clean up?” You ask him as you pull your hair out of its usual ponytail. He shrugs and grunts, leaning against the wall as he watches you. “I’m not staying. Only going for Rick.” He mutters. You know he really doesn’t want to go, but you are glad he’s willing to make an appearance. “Come on. What if I join you? There’s nothing wrong with getting clean, has nothing to do with them, just you and me.” You insist, and he slowly nods, allowing you to tug him into the bathroom for a nice warm shower, something you swore you would never get readjusted to.

You stood under the water, watching as his hair matted down against his forehead. He stares down at you and you can’t help but smile, adoring him. You gather some shampoo in your hand and gently lather it through his hair, watching as he subconsciously leans his head into your hand, enjoying the feeling of your hands in his hair. He is still pretty insecure and unsure of being naked in front of you, but he is trying his best to overcome it, wanting to give you all of him. He doesn’t want to disappoint you in any way, but your reassurance does help to boost his confidence.

After your shower, which ended up taking a little longer than you had intended, you checked the time as you dried off, realizing the party had already begun. “Shit,” You mutter under your breath, jogging over to the bed and letting your towel slide to the floor, slipping into a pair of black panties and pulling the black dress onto your body as you watch yourself in the mirror, unaware of Daryl also watching as he pulls on his own clothing. It actually looks really good on you, hugging your curves nicely and accentuating what was already there.

Daryl had never seen you in anything like that before, it was a weird sight, but a good one. You look great. “Zip me?” You ask, looking at him over your shoulder. He’s wearing the pair of dark jeans he wears a lot, although you cleaned and sewed them, and no shirt yet. He nods his head to the side a little and approaches you at the mirror as you turn back to face it. He zips it up for you, leaving tingles all up your back where his fingers trailed. “I found somethin’ for ya.” He mutters, pulling something out of his pocket, enclosed in his fist. “Close ya eyes.” He instructs, and you do so, feeling the excitement and curiosity building up inside of you. You feel him move your hair to the side and realize that he is placing a necklace on you. “Alright.” He mumbles, and you open your eyes, gasping when you see the beautiful necklace he got you. It’s gold and has a small heart on it. “It’s beautiful.” You smile, turning around and placing your arms over his shoulders. He hesitantly pulls you closer by your hips and places a kiss on your forehead. “Let’s get this over with.” He groans, making you chuckle.

As you walk up the stairs of Deanna’s large house, you can already hear the music playing inside. You feel your nerves growing as you take a deep breath, then open the door and step inside, holding it for Daryl. It is very nice inside, and everyone is dressed well, most holding glasses of some drink. Smiling, talking - it was such a strange sight. You hastily search for a familiar face and exhale in relief as you spot Rick speaking to Deanna and some blond girl. You and Daryl stride over to them, and you smile uncomfortably at everyone you pass, trying to put your best foot forward. “Wow, Y/N. You look nice.” Rick compliments you, his eyes growing wide when he sees Daryl. It’s a rare sight that the man has clean hair and not blood-covered clothes on. He’s wearing a black button down along with his dark jeans, and his vest. He looks very handsome, you can’t resist taking a step closer to his side, hoping everyone realizes you are together so you don’t have to explain it. He gets a little awkward when you have to explain what you guys are to one another. “Y/N and Daryl. How are you?” Deanna asks, a warm smile on her face. You smile politely back at her, hoping Daryl doesn’t look like he’s angry.

“I’m doing good. Thank you for your hospitality, Deanna.” You respond, causing her smile to grow.

“Of course.” She replies, before she excuses herself when the blond girl asks to speak to her and her husband alone.

“Strange, right?” You mutter to Rick, sulking your shoulders a bit. Abraham approaches you guys and throws his arm over your shoulder, handing you a glass. “This is kickass.” He speaks, slurring his words a little. Daryl scoffs, a little irritated by Abraham’s arm on your shoulder, but ignoring it. “Drunk much?” You ask your friend, sniffing the glass he handed you. “Vodka?”

He smiles proudly at you and nods. “A woman that knows her liquor. Got a good one, Daryl.” He jokes, heading back off to Rosita before Daryl can respond. You take a nice gulp of the liquid, suddenly feeling the need to be a little tipsy, almost forgetting how good that burn feels down your throat. Daryl stands a little closer to you, muttering in your ear. “Go easy.” You roll your eyes and nudge him, not wanting to listen. It’s been so long. Daryl wants you to keep your guard up though, in case anything went south.

“Hey, I’m Spencer. Deanna’s my mother.” A tall skinny guy introduces himself to Rick, who shakes his hand with the one that isn’t holding a glass. “Rick. This is Daryl and Y/N.” You smile at the boy and shake his hand when he extends it, returning the smile. He extends his hand to Daryl, who just looks at it for a moment before you nudge him again, silently pleading for him not to be rude. He shakes Spencer’s hand, a little rougher than necessary, causing you to throw your head back, swallowing the rest of the vodka.

The night goes by in a bit of a blur, you had a couple more glasses after Daryl left. He wanted you to leave with him, but you began having fun, so he left on his own, feeling angry and a little insecure. He just sat outside for a while at the house, waiting. He sharpened his knife, smoked, stared at the passersby. After a while, he grew impatient, and went back to the house to fetch you.

He walked in, ticked off, and searched for you. He couldn’t find you for a while, but he did find the Spencer kid. “Have ya seen Y/N?” He asks him, knowing he won’t like his answer whether he knows or not.

“She’s on the couch, I think she had a little too much to drink.” He says, and Daryl basically growls, heading toward the crowded living room. “Are you two together?” He calls out, causing Daryl to stop abruptly and turn around, pretty much glaring daggers into the guy. He doesn’t respond for a second, debating his response, before saying “Yes. We are.” He says, speaking up over the music, but his voice is noticeably huskier.

“Oh, okay. That’s fine.” Spencer responds awkwardly, and Daryl is about to make a scene, when Rick grabs his arm, giving his friend a look, causing Daryl to scoff and walk off, finally finding you. You’re laying on the couch with your head against Michonne’s shoulder, he just smirks at you. “She’s a little drunk.” Michonne warns Daryl as he helps you stand up, stumbling and leaning on him, giggling about God knows what. Daryl scoffs at Michonne’s joke and bids her a good night as he helps you back to your house.

You can’t even walk straight up the stairs, so he resorts to picking you up bridal style and carrying you up the stairs. He sits you down on the bed, unzipping your dress and slipping it off of you. “Ohhh, am I g-gonna get some!” You basically holler through your hiccups, making Daryl bite his tongue to hold back his laugh. “Quiet.” He tells you, not liking seeing you drunk. He tosses you one of his shirts that you washed, and you struggle to pull it over your head. He rolls his eyes and helps you untangle your arms from the hole meant for the head. “Jesus woman.” He mutters as you fall back onto the bed, snuggling up to a pillow. He pulls the sheets up over you, then turns around and starts to change into something more comfortable. He knew that party was nothing but trouble. “Daryllll,” You sing out, and he turns to look at you.

“What?” He asks, wondering what you are smiling and giggling about.

“Cuddle!” You holler, making him shake his head in disbelief. You are acting like a child. It is a little cute, but he still doesn’t approve of the drinking. He grew up with drunks, he knows what it can do to people.

He turns out the light then climbs into bed behind you, laying on his back, his one arm behind his head. You turn around and press your body against his side, laying your head on his shoulder. He looks at you in the dark, the moonlight peeking in, illuminating your face, and feels his heartbeat speeding up a little. His arm finds its way around your shoulder, pulling your closer, before he closes his eyes and attempts to fall asleep in the much too comfortable bed.

---

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[sunshinelukee]

Story of our lives

Pairing: Ashton x reader Warnings: a bit of angst every now and then, but mostly just fluff and I didn’t proofread it sorry Word count: 1600  Summary: You take a trip down memory lane with Ashton A/N: Everything in italics are memories :) Also you and Ash are like in your fourties here and it was really weird writing about that lol, so I’m not sure if I like the way it turned out 

Edit: if you’re on mobile, you can’t see the italics everywhere (because tumblr’s not working) so I’m sorry if it’s not quite clear what are memories and what aren’t

“Y/N?” 

You look up from your book when you hear Ashton walking into the room, carrying a big photo album.

“Look what I found, it’s our old photo album.” 

He sits down next to you on the bed, wiping the dust from the cover with his hand. You put your book aside and move closer to Ashton, touching the old book gently.

“Wow... Actually I had forgotten about this, it’s been such a long time since we last looked at this.” You smile when he opens the book and you see the first pictures of you together. You were about 19 here and had just started dating

Ashton. You’d seen him in the coffeeshop every day for a few months now. He stopped by every single day at exactly 7.30 am for his daily iced coffee, which you already prepared in advance by now. You couldn’t deny that you felt attracted to him, but after all those daily 3 minute conversations you had learned he was the drummer in the famous band 5 Seconds of Summer, so you knew you had no chance with him as a simple barista. However, you really enjoyed seeing him. But today it was already 8 am and you hadn’t seen the boy with the bandana tied in his messy hair. His prepared coffee is still standing on the counter, his name written on it in your neatest handwriting. You already want to throw it away, but at that moment someone bursts through the door and you can’t help but smile when you recognize the band tee and black skinny jeans. He almost runs towards the counter, nervously checking the time on his phone.

“Shit, I’m way too late.” Sighing he stows his phone back in his pocket while you quickly grab the cup of coffee and slide it across the counter.

“Oh, you’re an angel, I could kiss you.” he says relieved and hands you the money. You look at him surprised on hearing his words and then he realises what he just said.

“Oh. Oh! I didn’t mean that like... literally. Well, it’s not like I wouldn’t want to kiss you, ‘cause you’re like, really cute, but I’m not sure if you want to kiss me too, but I’d love to kiss you, but what I’m trying to say is-”

Before he can ends his sentence, you lean over the counter and quickly press his lips against his on a whim and he starts to blush even more. You pull back, shocked by your action, and mumble a quick apology.

“No, no, don’t be sorry. I liked that.” He smiles and grabs his cup. 

“But I really gotta go now, ‘cause I’m like really late, but could we maybe like, meet here tonight?”

Lost for words, all you can do is nod.

“Great, see ya then.” With a last gorgeous smile he turns around and leaves the shop.

“I still can’t believe I actually did that, kiss you.” you say, shaking your head while Ashton turns to the next page.

“Well, I’m glad you did, because I was too scared to do anything.” He laughs and you look at the next pictures.

The next few pages show memories from your first years together, you were both young and reckless and did the craziest things together. Giggling you point at a thread of pictures of the two of you covered in flour.

“Remember?”

Ashton laughs. “I could never forget.”

“Add the flour... Well, that can’t be that hard.” Ashton mumbles while taking the flour. 

You look up from the recipe. “Just make sure you don’t add everything at once, or it’ll-”

Right at that moment Ashton turns around the cup full of flour and starts to mix, causing the flour to fly all through the kitchen. For a few seconds all you can see is a big white cloud of flour but then you can see Ashton’s face, covered in the white mixture. 

You burst out laughing. “You look like a ghost!”

At first he looks slightly annoyed but then he starts laughing too. “Oh yeah? Want some too?” 

He takes a handful of flour and throws it right at your face, covering you in a layer of the white powder too. Soon you’re both caught up in a flour fight, until you grab the bag with the remaining flour and turn it upside down above Ashton’s head.

“Yeah! I guess I’ve won.” You smile and Ashton walks up to you, kissing you gently with his in flour covered lips.

“Congratulations.”

You smile thinking back to that moment. “It took us so long to clean the kitchen again, that flour was literally everywhere.” 

Giggling you turn to the next page, looking at all the photos.

You’re slowly growing older, maybe a bit wiser, but the weirdness doesn’t disappear. Ashton flips the page and your heart melts when you recognize the pictures of your engagement and wedding. You move closer to him and wraps his arm around your shouder.

Smiling he kisses your cheek. “We kept our promises, huh?”

The next thread of pictures shows the journey of your pregancy, ending with one of your favorite pictures ever. It’s you and Ashton together, holding your newborn baby in your arms. You look like such a happy, small family and there’s so much love. There’s also a lot of pictures of the band with your daughter, especially from the time she was a toddler. You point at a photo of the four grown men sitting at your little girl’s tiny table on tiny chairs while wearing fairy costumes and sipping fake tea from tiny cups.

“What a time was that..” Ashton smiles.

“Daddy? Do you and Uncle Cal and Uncle Mike and Uncle Lu want tea?” Ashton smiles at the sight of his baby girl carrying the pink plastic tea pot, but he knows the band has to work on some new songs right now. But just when he’s about to explain to her they don’t have time, Luke bursts through the door.

“Wait, did I hear tea? I’d love some tea!” he exclaims and she starts to giggle. Ashton quickly finds the rest of the band and soon they’re all sitting on tiny pink chairs, their long legs squished underneath the tiny table.

“We all have to be fairies!” 

Before the guys can say anything, she’s run away to grab her fairy costumes. When she returns they all have to wear the fairy wings and skirt and they know they look absolutelt ridiculous, but they’d do anything for her.

A big smile appears on her face. “Now it’s perfect!”

“Those good old days...” Ashton sighs and a smile plays around his lips. That smiles disappears when he flips to the next page, though. You both look at the pictures from 5sos’ last concert. You know it was the right decision for them, but Ashton still misses being in a band. And to be honest, you miss it too. The band and their music had always meant a lot to you and being at that last show had really hurted.

You’re crying like a baby and you don’t give a damn. From your spot backstage you can clearly see and hear the band’s final show and it’s making you more emotional than you’d expected. The band had been Ashton’s life for so many years and now it’s over. Even though that does mean he’ll have more time for you and the kids, it hurts so much. You listen to his speech while the tears are streaming down your cheeks. When he’s finished, the guys all wrap their arms around each other’s shoulders and say those so familiar words for the last time, but now slightly different:

“We were 5 Seconds of Summer.”

The crowd goes crazy and after they’ve said their final goodbyes, they walk towards the side of the stage. You keep some distance when they all hug each other backstage, a few tears here and there. When Ashton notices you, he walks up to you and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. For a moment you’re just standing like this, until you gently pull away and look at his watery eyes.

“I’m so, so proud of you, you were amazing.”

“What a show was that, huh.” he mumbles before turning to the last page. It shows photos from your 20th wedding anniversary, which you had celebrated with all your friends and family. It had been an amazing day and you still found it so special that even after so many years, you and Ashton still loved each other so much. Your marriage hadn’t been easy at times, especially when he was still in the band it was hard for him to combine his hectic job with his family. However, together you managed to get through everything.

Ashton sits up straight and stretches his arms. “So... If that was are 20th anniversary, our 23rd is coming up, right?”

You giggle. “Oh c’mon Ash, you still don’t know? It’s gonna be our 24th.” 

“Oh crap, you’re right. I’m such a bad husband.” He turns his head and looks at you with sad puppy eyes.

Smiling you press your lips against his.

“I love you anyways, even after 24 years. Especially after 24 years.”

[bbclesmis]

How Les Misérables made its Durham-born director a happy man

Tom Shankland talks about the hit BBC series which left viewers confused at first about its lack of songs 

The arrival on our screens of the BBC adaptation of Les Misérables couldn’t have been better timed.

The themes of the novel, written by French author Victor Hugo and published in 1862, include social justice, human rights, poverty, and reveal a society divided between the haves and have-nots, with rebellion in the air.

More than 150 years later, these themes don’t echo down the years but clang loud and long as the director of the six-episode series, Tom Shankland from Durham, knows only too well.

“It’s a fantastic and urgent story, a disenfranchised under class and a society that is struggling to find its identity,” he said. “People who feel excluded or put down by the political class and take action into their own hands.

“It features beautifully drawn and observed characters who are swept along through the tumultuous times.”

In France you have the gilets jaunes protests. In the UK we have Brexit.

“We’re very much trying to tell a story, one which we feel has some connection with the modern experiences,” said Tom. To add to the theme he revealed he had received the script, penned by award-winning writer Andrew Davies, between the Brexit vote and the election of Donald Trump in the US.

Les Misérables comes with a bit of baggage - or ‘preconceptions’ as Tom puts it. Namely songs, thanks to the multi-Oscar winning 2012 film and of course the stage musical it is based on which is still running in London, 33 years since it premiered there; it is on tour this year and coming to Newcastle Theatre Royal in August.

But Tom insisted: “I must be one of the few people in the world not to have seen the musical, so I didn’t have any preconceptions about it.”

However, a healthy proportion of the BBC audience has seen its musical version and the lack of songs sparked a bit of a social media spat after episode one.

“What was surprising was that some people thought the musical was the original format of the story and weren’t aware that the novel had been around for over 150 years,” said Tom.

The book, nearly 1,500 pages long, begins in France in 1815 after the Battle of Waterloo when Napoleon goes into exile, and ends in 1832 and the Paris Uprising caused by harvest failures, food shortages, and increases in the cost of living.

At the centre of it all is the ex-convict Jean Valjean and his struggle to lead a normal life after serving a prison sentence for stealing bread to feed his sister’s children, and his attempts at redemption; he is played by Dominic West in the new adaptation.

Other characters include Valjean’s pursuer, police chief Javert (David Oyelowo), Fantine (Lily Collins) who dies destitute and whose daughter Cosette, Valjean adopts, as well as myriad others whose stories are intertwined with his.

There is also an amazing performance by Olivia Colman, recently nominated for an Oscar, as the hugely unpleasant Madame Thénardier, wife of an equally despicable innkeeper who make up one of the most malign couples you’ll ever come across, prepared to sell their children as well as anybody else’s to make money.

Tom said: “Olivia is a phenomenal actress and wonderful person. The character she plays is such a departure from those she has played before and how she is in real life, yet she does it so well.”

Before being rescued by Valjean, Cosette had been handed over by a desperate Fantine to Madame Thénardier and her husband, the bogus ‘hero of Waterloo’, to look after in order to find work, for which she has to pay a dreadful price.

Madame Thénardier is swift to hit and abuse the young Cosette, and her other children when fortunes go against the family. Tom revealed Olivia would almost be crying after these scenes, worrying about how the youngsters would be reacting to them.

“The children absolutely loved it and enjoyed being fussed over by her,” laughed Tom.

The subject matter is grim, not least the suffering of Fantine, who sells her teeth and hair in order to find the money to send to Madame Thénardier who had claimed her daughter was ill and needed medication, while the depiction of the filth and squalor of Paris makes you want to have a bath after watching each episode.

“It goes to some very dark places,” said Tom. “Victor Hugo’s novel is fascinated by the highest and lowest of humanity, and that carries over into his settings. The lowest settings are the sewers or the aftermath of the battle of Waterloo... no matter how low you go, you always find a sense of beauty.”

As for the tone, rather than just an historical drama, Tom and writer Andrew Davies agreed in places that it almost had the feel of a cowboy western.

“The vengeful guy with a secret, the prostitutes who have fallen through the cracks, a bit like the mythology of the western,” said Tom.

The series is the latest success for Tom. In 2014 he directed series one of the acclaimed ‘Missing’, a complex crime thriller centred on the apparent abduction of five-year-old Oliver Hughes while on holiday with his parents Tony (James Nesbitt) and Emily (Frances O’Connor) in France.

Tom, 50, who is a former pupil of St Margaret’s Primary School and what was then Framwellgate Moor Comprehensive School in Durham, first established his name with a short film for Channel 4 called Bait in 1999.

Filmed in Durham bus station, it’s about a son waiting for his out-of-work dad to return from a job interview who had given him some bait to look after, which the lad gives to a tramp. In this context ‘Bait’ is northern slang for food.

Interestingly, in Les Misérables, the working-class characters like West’s Valjean who come from the country, generally speak with a Northern accent rather than a fake French accent, while those from Paris - the capital of France of course - sound a bit cockney.

“I never wanted this to be an ‘Allo ‘Allo version. I wanted it to be a version of Les Misérables which felt familiar to us although the art department went to great lengths to make the visual world look very, very French, to look like Paris and Montreuil where it is set at that time.”

“The novel is . . . about a very divided society in France, so as we were making this for an English-language audience I think you’re missing a trick if you don’t speak to that audience in a language they understand.

“There are class divisions which we perceive on the basis of accents, so the simplest rule that we found was really to nod towards those rules that we have in our own divided society.”

* The final episode of Les Misérables is on BBC 1 at 9pm this coming Sunday, February 3. (x)

[a-menage-a-trois-is-fine]

I’ve been building upon my oh-my-god-why-am-I-writing-Buzzfeed-fanfic-please-murder-me for months now, and it’s VERY slow-going what with work and life and all… but here are some snippets from it just to encourage myself to finish it, on the off-chance someone might read this and be like “HEY WRITE MORE MAYBE” or w/e I don’t know. These are chunks of what I’ve been writing thrown into some lonely corner of the internet. They’re not meant to make sense chronologically.

–

Stories are supposed to have beginnings and ends. Ryan remembers the word denouement from a tenth grade English class; remembers a chalky, arching line swooped across a blackboard:

There is a protagonist, a setting, an “inciting incident” (extra points for alliteration); conflict, struggle, resolution. Open ends are meant to be stitched together cleverly, and characters are meant to return home changed in some stunning, significant way (quadruple points here).

Sometimes he thinks about this when editing. Sometimes he thinks about this when he finally shuts down the computer, is the last to lock up, is the last to count how many black gum-spots it takes to get to his car.

Ryan’s life is nothing like a story. He tries to form it into something streamline, something meaningful, memorable, and marketable—

But in the end it is simply a long string of moments.

–

Siri guides them to Conneaut, Ohio. Which is not Conneaut, Pennsylvania.

Ryan buries his face in the steering wheel. “Fuck me, dude…”

“Well,” states Shane diplomatically. There ya go.”

“How many fucking Conneauts can possibly exist!”

“Two. Two exist.”

“Shut up.”

They’d been in Cleveland to check out Franklin Castle. The mansion had seen plenty of death over the years, was possibly home to Nazis at one point, and was bought by Judy Garland’s fifth husband in the ‘80s. It was found to have a literal skeleton in one of its closets. Well, allegedly. Shane kept pushing that word on Ryan.

It was in the paper, dude! Ryan had argued. In the nineties! This isn’t, like, folklore!

Yeeeaaaahhh, said Shane. People said a lot of things in the nineties.

The woman who owns it now — a pleasant Italian artist in her fifties — had given them permission to film and sleep in it overnight. They hadn’t gotten much rest, as usual, and they hadn’t encountered anything overtly significant. There were the odd creaks and subtle squeaks, but even Ryan had to admit that sort of stuff was to be expected from a house built in 1881. There were a few other things, though… things that could have been whispers (Ryan was eager to listen to the audio recordings, later) and things that seemed to move in the dark (though that could have just been his eyes and brain trying to make sense of the darkness, Shane had purported). Mostly, though, there was a feeling. A feeling that he was being watched. A feeling that they were not alone.

It was fucking frustrating, because a feeling isn’t evidence; not to anyone outside his own head.

–

“Do you think Taco Bell is worse in Ohio?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care. Taco Bell will give you the shits anywhere.”

“See, people say that — but I’ve never had a bad experience with TaBe. I’ve heard they’re one of the healthiest fast food places, actually. I mean, as healthy as fast food can be. They use better ingredients.”

“What the fuck is tah-bey?”

“TaBe. Taco Bell.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“It hasn’t caught on yet. I’ve been working on it.”

In the end, they stop at the Taco Bell the rest stop sign had advertised. It’s nestled among a throng of pine trees, which is just super weird for some reason.

Shane orders a steak Quesarito, but gets ground beef instead. Ryan goes to town on three Supreme tacos.

“I mean, I definitely said steak.”

“It’s probably ‘cause it’s one in the morning, dude. And they’re out of steak, or they just didn’t want to make it.”

“Or because that kid at the window was high.”

“Or because he was high, yeah.”

“It could just be my imagination, but I feel like it’s just a liiiiiiiittle less spicy than in LA.”

“These tacos taste exactly the same.”

“I dunno.” Shane squints into dark of the tall trees that press up against the parking lot. “There’s something… different.”

“It’s ground beef, and you never get ground beef Quesaritos. That’s what’s different.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

They eat in relative silence, going through every napkin they were given. Shane accidentally takes a sip of Ryan’s drink.

“Uuughh, dude.” Ryan pulls the straw out, flips it, and jabs it back in.

“You just dunked all my cooties into your Coke.”

“Yeah, but at least I’m not, like, kissing you every time I take a sip.”

Shane laughs in the gradual, stuttering way he does when something Ryan says doesn’t make sense to him. “What? Okay. You could’ve just taken the top off and thrown it away with the straw. Or you could’ve just sucked it up — literally sucked it up — like a normal person. But, okay. I guess I’m really, really gross. Cool.”

“I like straws.”

“Yeah, you really like straws.”

–

“I hate places with no elevators.”

“It’s an old hotel. You can’t expect it to have elevators.”

“Sure I can. It’s twenty-eighteen. They’ve had years to put one in.”

“You really like elevators.”

“I love an elevator. Almost as much as you love a straw.”

–

“I promise it won’t be weird.”

They stare at each other for a good handful of seconds.

“It might be a little weird,” admits Ryan.

Shane nods. “It might be a little weird.”

They laugh, and Ryan settles down beside his friend.

And it isn’t even a little weird.

–

They bump into each other somewhat purposefully on the sidewalk later. Fleetingly, Ryan wonders at the way he needs to touch Shane when they’re drunk. But they’re just drunk… that’s just what being drunk with Shane is.

Also, there’s something really disappointing about the arrival of an Uber.

–

The house is bleached bone-white by sixty-six years of desert sun.

Ryan feels something at his ankles, and when he drops his chin there is sand weaving in currents at his feet. He tries to get a better look, but the camera strapped to his chest is the size and weight of a bowling ball.

“There’s no door.”

Ryan squints against the daylight; Shane’s right. The house is a bungalow, the kind you’d find on stilts clinging to the Hollywood Hills. But it’s not standing tall, and there’s not a hill or mountain in sight. It sits heavy on the dry lake bed like some weighty thing on its belly. It’s trying to hide, Ryan realizes. It’s been trying to hide all this time, nowhere to run but into the ground. It’s frozen, and it hopes no one can see it.

“There!” Ryan points. He hadn’t noticed it before, he’d thought the front was clean, white wood — but there is plywood tacked on in the unmistakable shape of an entrance.

“How’d they do that from the inside?”

–

“Nice dingle-dongle.”

It’s not like they haven’t pissed side-by-side before. It’s not like they haven’t both seen each other’s dicks, out of the corners of their eyes, so — who gives a shit?

Ryan shrugs, tucks himself back in, and zips his jeans up like a captain steering a sailboat through a storm.

“It’s okay. You— what? What d’you mean, refund?”

Shane leans into the tiled wall with a great thump. He gestures vaguely, eyes trailing lazily to the ceiling.

“Like with… debit cards, if they get stolen, the bank reimburses you. Right? Those are the ones?”

“What?”

“Or is it credit? Fuck. I dunno. There’s, like… one of them, they don’t give you back the money if someone spends it.”

“I gave it to the bar-lady.”

Shane’s eyes roll like little brown marbles down to Ryan. His little lips curl up into a little open-mouthed smirk. “You rogue.”

“You told me to!”

“I know. I forgot. C’mon, buddy. We’re onto micheladas.”

—

They’re at a party blasting “Heart of Glass”, and Ryan thinks he will never be more in love than he is now.

—

“I am very drunk, and there is chicken in my mouth.”

“Well, yeah, you ordered chicken.”

“It didn’t sink in till just now.”

Ryan laughs. “Well, sorry— you ordered chicken.”

“No, I’m not saying it’s bad, it’s very good. It’s just. I forgot. Fuck!” Shane’s knife slips from his hand and lands in a pile of salad. He harrumphs, and picks the knife out gingerly, licking the dressing from its handle.

“Dude we are going to get kicked out of Disneyland.”

“Nooooo,” Shane admonishes. “They don’t knooooow, come on.”

“I am one hundred percent sure the waiter knows we’re drunk, dude. We’ve been waving and yelling at the people on the boats for, like, an hour now.”

Shane suddenly remembers the boats; he gives a funny, unfocused grin and waves a Rosebowl Queen Wave to the boat currently floating past. “They just keep… coming! Hey, Ryan. Do you think the ones with no one in them are haunted?”

“Do you?”

“No, I think Fantasmic is going on, and the pirate business is slow. But I think you think they’re haunted.”

“Actually…” and this is an interesting line of thought, along the way he’s always wondered about the silhouetted cast members he’s seen walking briskly through the backdrop of the Bayou: “I’d always figured there was, like, some reason they had to send a boat through empty? Like, for crowd control, or something to do with, I dunno, like, timing, or maintenance, or security, or something.”

“Ahhhh!” Shane says very slowly, drawing his attention back to Ryan. He acts the way he does when Ryan posits a particularly clever theory on some long-dead murder. “That makes sense!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! Ooh!” Shane glances around conspiratorially. “Where’s Disney Police? Disney Police! Arrest this man! He knows too much!”

“Shut up,” Ryan laughs, though he is honestly a little nervous. “You are so obviously drunk.”

“Noooooooo. I am the perfect model of, uh… of propriety. Sobriety Pirate-ey.”

“Sure you are. How are you a bigger lightweight than me? You’ve got, like, six more legs than me.”

“I’m fine. I’m bulletproof. I’m Batman.”

Ryan chokes on his lemonade. The novelty “glow-cube” he’d paid two-fifty extra for flashes several different colors before his eyes. He coughs for what’s probably a full minute before he’s able to say, “You are not Batman.”

“I’m Batman, bay-beeeeee.”

“You are so fucking drunk, dude.”

“I’m not drunk” he says in some unholy marriage of Bale and Keaton, “I’m Batman.”

“Well, god save Gotham, in that case.”

—

Ryan can’t stand to look at him right now, but he can feel him, the way he’s sitting beside him, and he can feel the way his voice sounds: It sounds hurt and hesitant. It might sound disappointed, and Ryan’s brain works itself up into a terrible, sudden frenzy — does it sound cheated? Does it sound like the voice of a man who’s been swindled?

Ryan shakes his head adamantly, which must look strange to Shane. No, Shane wouldn’t feel that way. Shane wouldn’t be like that.

This, Ryan realizes, is how girls must feel all the time.

–

Ryan shakes his head, grinning wetly. “You’re too perfect, you know that? You’re too fucking dumb and perfect.”

Shane looks lost. Ryan is still half-crying, half-laughing.

“Can I hug you?”

–

[clevernewdimension]

Unearthly Delights Part Two (M)

Parts: Preview, One, Two (M), Three (Coming soon!)

Genre: Drama, Smut, Action (?), Romance, Supernatural Creatures and Monsters AU

Pairing: ???

Word Count: 6K

A/N: Next part! Managed to write this all despite the awful sadness.

My first day off I got up at noon and went to get groceries. Which, for me, is probably going to be mostly just microwavable food and some bottles of various alcohols. It was raining for the first few hours I was awake. I walked to the store, not really minding the rain in the moment. My hood was up, the rain gentle falling. Most people didn’t stay on the sidewalk, which left a path for me. There were still people rushing around, umbrellas covering them from the rain. I passed by people, hearing their gossiping. Quiet but not too quiet mutterings of who’s cheating on who and where they’re meeting for the night.

I shake my head, pulling my hood up after I duck into the grocery store. Cereal, milk, canned food and easily made things. Sure, it was mostly junk, as I placed in some bags of chips and a few different flavors of ice cream. I did get some hot chocolate and marshmallows. It’s my favorite thing to drink when I’m cold. After getting a lot of groceries, I managed to hail a taxi, promising myself to finally just download uber or lyft when I got home. What I wasn’t looking forward to was unloading all of this. Getting my groceries up the stairs is bit of a struggle, since the elevator was currently being worked on. Thankfully it stopped raining by now, making this whole ordeal way easier. A few trips up and down so many stories was killing me. I was sweating, giving me the perfect opportunity to take a long bath. It was nice, giving me time to relax from all the standing and walking I did. Thankfully the bruise on my face wasn’t too bad. He couldn’t punch for shit, after all.

After lounging in my bath water long enough, I quickly got out, drying myself and my hair quickly. If I didn’t, it would get wavy, which I hated. After all that work, I put on some pajama pants and not even both with a shirt, walking to my living room and turning the T.V. on to some movie that was playing on cable.

After a few hours of movies, a pizza delivery and a quick at home manicure, my doorbell rang. I glared at the door. “Who the fuck,” I ask, standing and moving to the door, not even bothering to cover myself. I didn’t look through the peephole, either. Whoever knocked will just have to be happy they get to look at my fantastic tits. Not that I’m biased, or anything. I throw open the door, looking and seeing the face of my new boss as he just smiled at me. He looked fine, dressed up a bit. There was something about Junmyeon that screamed ‘husband material’, even now.

The look on Junmyeon’s face when he looked down at me was priceless. I let myself giggle, watching his cheeks go red. His eyes went wide as he looked away, “Oh, um… Hello Ava.”

I just smile, leaning against the door frame. I was in pajama pants still, my crossed arms shifting my breasts, causing Junmyeon’s face to go red. My naked torso apparently making the merman uncomfortable. “Yes, Junmyeon?”

“Oh,” He says, looking back to me, making sure to keep his eyes on my face. “We… all of us who work at Unearthly Delights made plans to go out together tonight. Well, except Ariel and Jes. Jes is at a funeral for a family member and Ariel is currently on vacation. I’ve been trying to call you to invite you, but you haven’t answered.”

“Oh,” I say, nodding, “Alright. What kind of place are we going to?”

“Just another club,” He says, his eyes not leaving mine, glued there. His face still flushed as I just couldn’t help but smile. “It’s like a place that’s just a constant rave.”

I nod, “Alright. Let me get dressed. Would you like to come in and wait?”

Junmyeon just nods quietly and I just smile. He’s the owner of a club that breaks so many laws it’s insane and he can’t even look at me while I’m topless? We’ll have to fix that. I let him in before moving to my room. It didn’t take me long to get ready. Hair in a neat high ponytail, some eyeliner and mascara, a dark purple lip. I made sure to cover the bruise the best I could, but I’ve never been that great with makeup.

Then I turned to my closet, looking to see what was in here. Taemin would often let friends use his place, so there are a lot of clothes there that are probably forgotten about. There is a shirt in particular I thought about the second I saw Junmyeon cheeks go red when I opened the door. Granted, I can’t just wear that, so I was absolutely relieved when I found some pasties I could wear under it. I’m not exactly into the silver holographic color of them, but they’ll do. I suppose I can’t just wear all black to a rave-like club.

I placed them over my bare nipples, the X’s covering all they legally needed to. Granted it’s legal to be topless in New York, but the police officers seem to forget that, and I don’t particularly care to be on their radar. I throw the form fitting black mesh crop top over, thankful that there are no sleeves. It was a tight fit, as I think this belonged to someone who was flatter than I am, but thankfully, I could squeeze my barely C cups in there. Though, to be honest, they’re probably actually a B, haven't been measured in a long time.. Now that I think about it, it could probably be Taemin’s. Wouldn’t be shocking, he loved mesh and fishnet, after all. Black skinny jeans, black heeled booties and my signature black leather jacket over it all. I zipped it up, looking at myself in the mirror. My ink black hair looked fine and I smiled. I walked back into the living room, seeing Junmyeon waiting by the door. When le looked over, he seemed relieved. I just smile, putting my wallet in my pocket along with my small pack of gum. “Lead the way,” I mutter, smiling at him.

One thing that I already love about this city was the subway system. It just made things to much easier. The walk was quick, making casual conversation and my complaining about taking groceries up 30 flights to steps. He just smiled, laughing at my misfortune. He was a great conversationalist. He really knew how to keep the back and forth between us going strong and he didn’t try to talk over me ever, which is nice. It wasn’t long before we got to the stairs to go down, I could see a few familiar faces. Jongin was standing beside Yixing, smiling as they talk to someone I didn’t recognise.

Yixing noticed us first, smiling and waving. He was in bright colors, grinning. Multiple silver piercing in his ears. After a bit of studying I did late last night, I know that he can’t touch iron, but pretty much all over metal is fine for fae. He was dressed in light green, tight jeans and some light up shoes. Around his head was a crown of flowers, his hair in a ponytail and styled out of his face. The flowers lightly glowed purple, making him look cute and innocent. Small bells on the ends of his shirt, causing a magical ringing that just made you feel warm inside. Must be magical in a way.

Jongin looked like walking sex, really. Though, I suppose that’s to be expected from a incubus. Eyeliner looked so good on him, his hair also out of his face, looking perfectly placed. He wore a jacket that was unbuttoned, showing off his bare chest. Around him was a body chain, parts wrapping around his waist and over his shoulders. Right in the middle, resting on his sternum was a jewel that was red. The metal glowed, a shimmer of blue, purple and green. It was enchanted and I could help but wonder with what. Tight pants complemented the rest of him. He, too, stuck to a lot to black, though there was neon spots of paint all over his clothes. Something told me the other man was responsible for that.

The other man was shorter than Yixing and Jongin. He was about as tall as Junmyeon. He turned, smiling. His hair was lavender, messy and all over the place. His eyes were a nice storm grey, complemented with outrageously loud eye makeup he had on. Bright purple and making his eyes stand out. He smiled, looking at me. His lips were a bright neon shade of purple, looking over Junmyeon and myself. He had a velvet collar around his throat, and his button up shirt was what I imagine an acid trip looks like. Rings on every finger, some even having two. His shirt was open a bit, revealing his skin. He was really thin, his legs too, as I couldn’t help but notice since he’s wearing leather pants. His shoes were just like Yixing’s, lighting up in rainbows as he tapped his foot.

“You both look like you’re going to a goth club or something,” The man says, his voice beautiful as he spoke. “Which can be sexy and all, but totally the opposite of where we’re actually going.

Junmyeon points to him, “This is Baekhyun. He’s one of our sirens who loves to dazzle anyone and everyone.” I looked at Junmyeon, who was just in an ordinary button up and some slacks. He turned back to the siren, “I have some work I have to do tonight with the owner.”

“Boo,” Baekhyun says, rolling his eyes. “I demand a dance with you sometime tonight, Jun! I promise I’ll save you from all the people who want to throw themselves at you!” He looks at me, “You look like you’re going home to dinner dressed as the infamous family disappointment.” He looked me up and down, walking around me, “Well, at least you have an great ass. That’ll up the sexy that this outfit tries to hide.”

I smile at Baekhyun, before unzipping my jacket. “It does hide a lot, actually.” I open it, revealing what I was wearing underneath.

Baekhyun goes from unhappy to absolutely delighted. “Yes! See, now that is fucking hot. Could do with more color but way better than I thought it was. You look great, and to be honest, black really is your color.”

I just smile, zipping it up as the cold air hits my chest. I shiver at the feeling, loving the warmth of my jacket. Good and trust. The staple of my life. “Are we going or what?”

Yixing smiles, placing his hand on my shoulder, closing his eyes. I get this warm, fuzzy feeling wash over me as he just opens his eyes back. “It’s a protection spell. I do it to all of our mundanes who work with us. Protects you from date rape drugs and any magical spell or something that is pretty much the same thing.”

“Thank you,” I say, “Really. This actually is nice to know I don’t have to be constantly watching out for that for once.”

We shuffle down the stairs, catching the subway for a bit before we finally exit. The conversation was pleasant as Baekhyun gossiped to me about all of the things. This man was a complete open book, ready to talk to anyone and share anything. He told me how he had breakfast with a warlock who was trying desperately to get in his pants, went shopping with a fae who loved to shoplift and was now ready to party with us. He was one of those always have to be doing something sorts, I suppose.

When we were let into a wearhouse looking building, the music was thumping. It was bodyshaking EDM, which I liked but wasn’t my favorite. Lights all around, blacklight making everything shine as people were dancing. People drinking, passing out pills of all sorts of colors, money being thrown around on a table to the side. The money especially caught my attention, making me smile.

Anyone who gets to know me learns I love money. But only money that I earn. I don’t want to just be given money for something, which is why I didn’t take it from Ariel last night when she offered it. Looking at the stacks of bills make my mouth water as I imagine just throwing it around and laying on it. The ultimate dream is to just have a room full of money and swim in it Scrooge McDuck style.

On the table, there was everyone I recognized. Kyungsoo and Chanyeol weren’t dressed up at all, much to Baekhyun’s dismay. He made sure they knew it, too, practically screeching over the music. Minseok wore a mesh shirt as well, black pants with glitter all over him. He smiles, holding a cigarette in his hands. I suppose when you’re a vampire there is no danger in it. Shannon was smiling as she took the hand of a stranger who came up to her. She waved at me, before looking back at the man with a sexy smirk. Sehun was dressed like Jongin, though with neon bodypaint all over him. His hair neon green, bright in the lights as he quickly downed a shot he was sharing with the person I don’t recognise. He was dressed in a neon patterned shirt, blonde hair. He also wore some makeup, but not a lot. He looks over, smiling. He reaches out, holding his hand, “Jongdae!”

“Ava,” I say, shaking his hand. I unzip my jacket, placing it on the table. Minseok brushes his glass in front of me.

“Someone bought me a drink, but I don’t care for whiskey,” He says, smiling.

I pickup the glass, drinking it quickly. I was use to the burn of alcohol, It’s become a comfort. I place it on the table, smiling.

Jongin was standing to the side, and I could see him shiver. His eyes glowing a little, as he just laughs. Chanyeol noticed this too, hitting Jongin’s shoulder, “Someone’s being naughty, hm?”

Jongin’s muscles tighten as he practically moans out, “Under the table to the right. Two tables down.”

Baekhyun looks, making it very obvious. He smiles, letting out a laugh, “Damn! She’s shameless! Look at her go!” He leans to them, “Choke on that cock, honey! You’re doing great!” There was something about him that seems to come alive in a party atmosphere.

I just laugh, seeing her vaguely hear him and pulling away, looking around. The man she was getting intimate with looked down, his brows furrowed as if to ask her what’s she thinking. The yelling apparently doesn’t make her stop for long as she turns back, opening her mouth and sucking the man’s cock back in her mouth. Jongin’s eyes still glowing, he smiles as he’s bouncing. He takes Sehun’s hand and pulls him, “Let’s go dance!”

Sehun smiles, letting himself be dragged away. He waves back at us all, before they’re lost in the sea of people.

Minseok leans over, speaking in my ear. “He was feeding on their sexual energy. It was like a shot of pure adrenaline to him.”

I look at him, “He doesn’t have to be the one fucking them?”

Baekhyun smirks, hearing us. “Nope. So try not to fuck someone at work. Trust me from personal experience, he knows who and where every time.”

“Like that would stop me,” I say with a shrug, looking and shaking to the beat, talking with Minseok and Kyungsoo who said at the table with me. Everyone else either danced or, in Junmyeon’s face, left to do work. The conversation was nice, the drinks better, but my eyes kept looking over at the table where a few people were playing poker. The piles of money making my mouth water.

Minseok’s voice whispers in my ear, “Greedy, hm?”

“There’s nothing more beautiful than money,” I say with a smile.

“I disagree,” Minseok says, looking as Kyungsoo was dragged away by Chanyeol. He smiles, “But seeing you so enthralled by money does make it seem better.”

“I grew up without money,” I say, looking at him. “Hell, getting paid yesterday was the first time I had a grand in my account in… well, ever. Honestly, if this didn’t work out I was honestly going to think about applying to be like a sugar baby to someone.”

Minseok’s face looked like h thought the idea wasn’t great, “But what if he was an old man?”

“I’d have no problem sucking a raisin dick and calling him daddy if he’s willing to throw money at me,” I say with a smile, “Beside, aren’t you old?”

“I’m only going to be a century soon,” Minseok says with a smile. “However, I am not a raisin. Have at least a little bit of standards. You’re too young for an old man. You’ll give him a heart attack.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his last sentence. “Minseok, there isn’t many things I’d say no to if I thought what I got out of it was worth it,” I say, stretching. His eyes moved down, looking at my chest before looking back up at me. I admired that he made no move to try to hide the fact that he just looked. “Really. Most of my no’s are sexual things. Like no piss and shit. No pretending to be a baby. No vomit. And no furry shit.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Minseok says with a smile.

“It might be useful to you one day,” I say with a smirk. “Now, you tell me something,” I say, smiling at the waitress who placed another drink down in front of me. “What is it like drinking blood?”

He smiles, “Well, it’s warm, and it makes everything around me and the person you’re drinking from go away. It’s a lot like what Jongin experiences, honestly. He was shivering and moaning, feeding off their energy. That’s what it’s like but with blood, and both people feel it, but especially those being bitten.”

I open my mouth to reply, to to watch as Minseok’s demeanor changed in a flash. He was relaxed and calm, watching out for his friends and co-workers. In a blink, he was tense, his eyes shimmering a deep red as he eyes are looking to the side. I watch as his teeth grew, two insanely sharp incisors. “Ventrue clan scum,” He says, his voice deeper, growling as he glared.

I turn my head, seeing a man wearing a suit. He smiles, grinning, his teeth like Minseok’s, but not as long and sharp. His eyes glowing the same as he just looks over Minseok. “Scum? Me? Says the Gangrel beast.”

Minseok glares as the man turns his attention to me. “Hello, darling. I’m sure whatever kind of night Minseok has promised you, I could give you a better one. Whatever he’s offered I’ll double it.”

I glared at him. His clothes are extremely expensive, as is the watch he wore on his wrist. His whole style screams ‘daddy’s rich bitch’. His hair pushed back, his eyes blue and his hair white blonde. “Double this, asshole,” I say, flipping him off.

There was a change in the man, as he glared at me. He looks at Minseok, laughing, “You let her talk like that? This mortal?”

“No one owns me,you Draco Malfoy looking mother fucker,” I say, crossing my arms. “Now, how about take a damn hint and fuck off.”

My words had no effect on him,The man smirks, looking at Minseok, “She’s feisty. I know many in my clan who likes to break people like her. Perhaps I’ll tell them about her.”

“If any Vantrue hurts her, they will pay,” Minseok says, crossing his arms. “Don’t you have someone’s ass to kiss, Sylas? Still trying to claw your way back after you fall from grace?”

The man glared, his pride getting the better of him. “Shame, I do have business to take care of,” He says, before looking back at me. “I’ll definitely see you again, count on that.”

“Hopefully it’ll beat your funeral,” I say, rolling my eyes, flipping him off one last time. When he walks away, I look at Minseok, “What was that about?”

“Vampires have different clans,” He says, shaking his head. “Mine and his have been enemies for centuries. I don’t even have any business with mine anymore, but that doesn’t stop him. We can smell it on each other.”

“Sounds like some teen drama,” I say with a smile, taking a sip of my drink.

Minseok looks at where he was, “I’m going to go find Junmyeon. You should dance. It would be a shame to come to a club and not dance.”

“I don’t dance,” I say, shrugging. “I think I’m going to find someone to make out with, though.”

This makes Minseok just smile a little, shaking his head. “Be careful. Ventrues mean what they say. If you feel like someone is watching you, find one of us.”

“Or, for safety reasons, I could just go make out with one of our lovely co-workers,” I say as I wave, weaving my way through the crowd. I see many people dancing, grinding and having a good time. My co-workers all swaying with the music, feeling it and the beat. Baekhyun was making friends with literally everyone around him, which I expected. Nice to know my gut feeling about him was right. I watch as one of them pulls away, taking a breather from the crowd. I make a beeline for him, smiling as I walked up.

“Hey,” I say, closing the distance, “It’s is just casual fun. No feelings.” I pull his face down, pushing my lips against his. I had to stand on my toes to kiss him, as he was fairly taller than me. It was a quick little peck, just to see how he’d react. His lips were softer than I thought it was.

Chanyeol’s eyes are wide, shocked for a moment before he just smiles. He places his hands on my hips, pressing his lips to mine again. The first kiss was just a peck, this one quickly became sloppy and wet. His thumbs rubbing circles on my hips as he massages my tongue with his. Our tongues frantic, sometimes taking the time to nibble little bites on the each other’s lips. His hands pick me up, holding me as if I was as light as a feather. He turns us around and presses my back to the cold metal wall. I moan, smiling into the kiss. I pulled at his hair, gaining a moan from him back. He pulled away, smirking. “I certainly wasn’t expecting that, not that I’m complaining.” His voice was deep and husky, making the growing slick between my legs worse.

“I just really want some fun,” I say, pulling him back. My hands on his back, feeling the muscles of it. They were lean and strong, like every werewolf I’ve met. Their bodies just naturally seems to have power in them. I wasn’t expecting someone as sweet looking as Chanyeol to be such a good kisser, if I’m honest. He understand that kissing is a give and take, letting me sometimes have control over it every now and then. Here I thought I was going to corrupt a sweet man, but it’s a bit thrilling knowing that he knows what he’s doing.

I don’t know how long we were there, kissing. My lips were swollen and a bit sore from the bites from Chanyeol. Little nibbles, making me moan and pull at his hair. I was soaking already as I rolled my hips against his, feeling how I’m effecting him. I couldn’t help but feel good with how hard I made him as I pull him away from my lips. “Seems like I created a problem,” I say with a laugh, lightly biting his bottom lips before pulling away. I bite my lip, looking up at him through my eyelashes. I don’t think it’ll take much convincing to get what I wanted. “If you want, I’ll fix it for you,” I say in his ear, biting his earlobe.

“Only an insane person would say no to that,” He says with a smile. He set me on my feet, taking my hand and having me follow him. I trusted that he know his way around here, as he just takes me out a backdoor. The alley was, for New York, surprisingly clean. No stench of trash, no rats in sight and no needles or anything on the ground. Which, honestly, is a miracle. I smile, looking at a car that was parked back here. I guide him, pushing him to sit on the hood of the car. If we wanted to, he could have just stood there and it would have been as useless as trying to push a brick wall, but he let me just pull him and push in whatever way I wanted. I get on my knees, smiling as I looked up at him, working on his belt and pants.

Chanyeol’s eyes as he watched me were blown out with lust already. He takes a deep breath, watching me with an edger look. His hard cock sprang free, long and thick. Precum leaking from the tip. He gasped, the cool air probably uncomfortable to him. I look up at him, licking my hand quickly as I smile and take his length in my hand. I lick at the slit, causing a sound to come from him. He growls, deep in his chest. It sounded like a wild animal, as I teasingly lick at his erection. I circle my tongue around the tip, smiling as I see him clench his hands.

“Stop teasing,” He says, his voice deeper than it’s been before. He looks down, eyes glowing yellow. There was something that was just hot about that, how he changed a bit in the moment. I slip my other hand down, unbuttoning my jeans and slipping my fingers over me. I was very slick as I circles my fingers around my clit slowly. I moan, making Chanyeol let out a whine of pleasure.

I sink down, causing a moan to come from him. It was a salty taste of skin, I was used to it as I hollowed my cheeks, sucking on him.  My fingers pressing down a bit harder as I circles my clit. I look up at him, seeing him throw his head back with a rumbling moan in his chest. My hand and mouth worked together, watching as I slowly start driving him crazy. “You looks so good sucking my cock, Ava,” Chanyeol says with a breathy chuckle. His hands go to my hair, his grip tight. I lower my mouth further, taking all of him with a groan. The vibrations going straight to his cock as I could hear him moan my name. The hand holding my hair was shaking as he pulled on it.

I could tell he was close as he started to thrust into my mouth. I choked a few times, but just stayed and took it. It’s been awhile since I let someone fuck my mouth. Practice makes perfect, after all. His face was screwed up as he finally leans back, groaning loudly into the air. His cum filled my mouth as I just kept swallowing it down. The taste was strong but not disgusting as I just continue to suck him through it. There was a slightly different taste to it, though I can’t pinpoint it. Probably something about him not being human. After he was done, I pull off, licking the last little bit of cum that was on his cock as he just takes a moment to gather himself.

He looks down, a goofy smile on his face. “Damn Ava, that wa-”

“If you don’t hurry up and finger me I’m going to rip your cock off,” I say, my finger still stroking my clit. The mess in my underwear only grew as I sucked him off. There was just something about doing this outside in the middle of the city that added to my arousal, too.

He was quick, pulling me up and pushes my back against one of the walls. He picks me up as I wrap my legs around him, smiling. His face was flushed, hair a bit crazy, like he’s been running his fingers though it. He pushes my pants and underwear down a little, just enough for his hand to move mine and slip inside me. I moaned, my back arching as I gripped his shoulder with one hand. Chanyeol licks the fingers that were once in my panties, moaning as he licked the wet arousal off of them. There something so hot about a man doing that. After, his hand pushes my crop top over my breasts, peeling the pasties off and sicking them on my stomach. His rough fingers thrusting in me quickly, quicker than humanly possible. Chanyeol’s fingers were long and quite thick as three fingers pistoned in and out me. His thumb giving me friction on my clit, making me choke out a gasp.

“Fuck Ava,” He says, his hand pinching at one of my nipples as he bends his body to take the other in his mouth. His long fingers brushed against me just right, causing me to yell a moan out.

“There,” I cry out, “There, Chanyeol!”

His finger abused that spot, finding it everytime as I grabbed his hair, pulling him back and smashing our lips together. “Fuck,” I moan in his mouth, only for him to silence me with his tongue. I was breathing heavily as his lips went to my neck, my loud moans filling the air around us. I couldn’t care if people could hear us or were looking at us. Free memories for their spank banks latter.

The feeling in me snapped, an I yelled out. My orgasm rushing over me like river rapids as his fingers continue to fuck me through it. He was merciless, not slowing down at all as tears fell from my eyes. He bit my shoulder softly, as I was shaking in his arms, quickly becoming overwhelmed with this pleasure.

Finally, the feeling faded as I felt him take his hand out of my pants. He raises his hands to his mouth, licking it with a huge smirk on his face. I lean forward, licking his fingers too before kissing him deeply. He groans, the kiss softer than it was before. It was lazy, our tongues just softly touching. It was nice after the fast pace sexual adventures we just had.

Chanyeol sets me softly on my feet, as I quickly pull my pants back up, zipping them up and buttoning them. “Thanks for that,” I say with a smile as I put the pasties back on and pull the see though top back down. My nipples still hard due to the night air as he watched me with satisfaction.

“No, thank you,” Chanyeol says with a huge grin. “Fuck, I needed that.” He tilts his head back to the club, “You want a drink? I should at least get you one for that amazing blowjob.”

“I’m not going to say no to free booze,” I saw with a grin.

As Chanyeol opens the door, we see Jongin leaning against the wall, the glowing in his eyes staring to face as he just smiles at us. “Thank for the meal,” He says with a smirk. He looks at Chanyeol, “You do owe her a drink after that. God it was hot. The energy was delicious.”

“So you  really can actually can feel it, huh,” I say, following him back through the crowd to the bar.

Jongin nods, waiting at the bar with us, “I can. Hell, I could feel the energy the second you both started kissing.”

Chanyeol slaps Jongin’s arm, “You owe her a drink too, then. You can’t just eat for free.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbles from my throat. “Well I can think of something he could eat for free,” I say with a wink. Jongin just gives me a smirk, winking back at me. A glass of some whiskey cocktail finding its way into my hands as Chanyeol quickly paid for it. I toast my glass with his, “Cheers!”

Chanyeol just smiles, taking a sip from his drink.

Unfortunately, the happy times seemed to come to a quick end as the sound of a loud crack filled the air. People started to move away as two people seemed to start to go at it.

Chanyeol pulled me away just as something came rushing by at a speed I didn’t know was possible. The object was caught by him, a empty broken bottle of beer. I move, going towards the commotion. My eyes widened at what I was seeing. Chanyeol rushed passed into the open space, glaring.

Minseok was there, his nails long and his teeth sharp, looking furious. He was breathing heavily, the rage in his eyes make them looks as if he was on fire. Behind him was Junmyeon, holding his hand that looked to be severely cut. He didn’t seemed worried as he was glaring at the man before him.

The man had long nails and fangs like Minseok, breathing heavily. There were cuts on his face where it looked like Minseok got him, his eye even cut too. It was gruesome.

Minseok scoffed, his voice deeper and haunting as he spoke. “You Ventures can’t leave anything alone, can you.”

Chanyeol moved in front to Minseok, his glowing eyes looking at the man, “What did he do?”

“Tried to kill Junmyeon,” Minseok says with a low growl.

Chanyeol let out a growl of his own, looking at the man, “I’d suggest you leave or else.” His growl was like a huge wolf, whereas Minseok’s sounded like a tiger. It was scary, making me shake a little. I felt a hand on my shoulder, pulling me behind them. Jongin put himself in front of me.

“This could get ugly,” He says, the flirty nature of him disappearing. He looks back, “Stay near me. You won’t get hurt.”

“Can’t do that,” The man says, looking. “I’ve been tasked to kill this little fish.”

In a blink, Minseok was there. The man was on the ground as people started to flee in fear. He held one of his arms, his foot holding the man down by the chest. “You’ll have to go back to your master a failure, then.”

There was a loud rip and screaming. I look and see as Minseok was holding the man’s arm. He ripped it completely off of him, throwing it to the side of the man. It was honestly a bit terrifying, how strong he was. The effort it took to rip a man’s arm was was minimal. How brutal he showed he could be. He was like a wild animal that has been backed into the corner, going absolutely ballistic, in a way. It was scary, truthfully.

“Quit crying, it’ll heal back,” Minseok sneers, moving towards Junmyeon. "Tell whoever you're working for to fuck off or else." He takes Junmyeon's hand in his, looking up at Chanyeol. “Take the trash out, will you? And Jongin, get all of our people together. We’re going to leave.”

I watch as he leans, licking at the wound on Junmyeon’s hand. I see Junmyeon goes tense, letting out a groan of pleasure. Minseok was healing the wound with his saliva. That’s why Junmyeon wasn’t worried about it. He knew Minseok would heal him.

Jongin takes me by the arm, pulling me along with him. I didn’t fight it, not wanting to cause trouble. Soon, my jacket was back on and we were out, getting lost in the growing streets of the big apple.

[poetryimusicalartistposts-blog]

Taylor Kapiolani

Second Post for WEEK 1, Due Sunday, January 21st, 5pm.

What lyrics stand out to you?-------------------

“Seems the only one who doesn't see your beauty Is the face in the mirror looking back at you You walk around here thinking you're not pretty But that's not true 'cause I know you”

“I guess it's true that love was all you wanted 'Cause you're givin' it away like it's extra change Hoping it will end up in his pocket But he leaves you out like a penny in the rain Oh, 'cause it's not his price to pay It's not his price to pay”

-“Tied Together With a Smile”

“You're beautiful

Every little piece, love; don't you know? You're really gonna be someone Ask anyone And when you find everything you've looked for I hope your love leads you back to my door Oh, but if it don't, stay beautifulIf you and I are a story That never gets told If what you are is a daydream I'll never get to hold, at least you'll know.”

-“Stay Beautiful”

“I tried to take the road less traveled by But nothin' seems to work the first few times Am I right?So how can I ever try to be better? Nobody ever lets me in And I can still see you; this ain't the best view On the outside, lookin' in I've been a lot of lonely places I've never been on the outside

You saw me there, but never knew That I would give it all up to be A part of this, a part of you And now it's all too late, so you see You could have helped if you had wanted to But no one notices until it's too late to do anything”

-“The Outside”

“You have a way of coming easily to me And when you take, you take the very best of me So I start a fight 'cause I need to feel somethin' And you do what you want 'cause I'm not what you wanted

You put up the walls and paint them all a shade of gray And I stood there loving you, and wished them all away And you come away with a great little story Of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you”

-“Cold As You” 

“I don't know what I want, so don't ask me 'Cause I'm still trying to figure it out Don't know what's down this road I'm just walking Trying to see through the rain coming down Even though I'm not the only one, who feels The way I do

Got the radio on, my old blue jeans And I'm wearing my heart on my sleeve Feeling lucky today, got the sunshine Could you tell me what more do I need? And tomorrow's just a mystery, oh yeah But that's okay

I'm alone, on my own And that's all I know, I'll be strong, I'll be wrong Oh, but life goes on Oh, I'm just a girl Trying to find a place in this world

Maybe I'm just a girl on a mission But I'm ready to fly”

-“A Place In This World”

What is so vibrant about them to you?

-”Tied Together With A Smile”---the lyrics I included above from this song speak to me because they are something my best friend would say to me about going after someone who is not good for me or would not reciprocate what I would give to them in a relationship. Many girls I know, including myself, would drop anything for a love interest (guy or girl) and forget who they are. It reminds me that at the bottom of all interpersonal relationships, you are responsible for how you act, and some people will not reciprocate. These lyrics make me feel like someone out there cares and understands this phenomenon and problem that so many girls deal with in our patriarchal society where women are stereotypically expected to drop everything for their husbands or significant others. 

-”Stay Beautiful”- Like “Tied Together With A Smile,” Swift seems to be directly referencing one of her friends. The person in this song is a male as opposed to a friend who is a girl in “Tied Together With A Smile,” but the lyrics still resonate with me because they are optimistic and they are something a best friend would tell me. They also contain messages of hope in the future and possibly (maybe I am reading too much into this) proving haters wrong.  

- “The Outside”-- What resonates with me most from these lyrics is the fact that the narrator is trying to reach out to someone who is closed off, possibly emotionally. The narrator seems like an outcast and includes the word “lonely” which strongly resonates with me personally because I constantly feel like an outcast and lonely, which may not be logical to feel, but I have accepted will continue to be a chronic feeling for the remainder of my young adult life. However, lyrics like these remind me that I am not the only person who has ever felt this way and that many people around me feel the same way but are afraid or too cowardly to be direct and tell people how they feel or put effort into trying to establish a human connection with each other. The epidemic of loneliness and isolation has increasingly been becoming a world-wide phenomenon due to our global cultural shifts, globalization, and technology, as proven by multiple scholarly sources providing statistics, and I believe that it will not always be this way.

-”Cold As You”-- the lyrics from this song resonate with me because I have met many people in my life who have been cold and I don’t understand them. I have had many significant-others as well as family members who have been “cold” towards me, and they are not pleasant experiences to have put myself through. Like the other songs lyrics, these provide reassurance that I am not the only person who has felt this way and that people shamelessly and honestly write songs about stuff like this without caring about what everyone else thinks. 

- “A Place In This World”-- I like the lyrics in this song as well because they show how the narrator is feeling about their future career and about the uncertainty of being a young adult. What is inspirational about these lyrics is that Swift got a record-deal in order to publish this song, and that she is willing to be completely vulnerable, raw, and free of shame while exposing her innermost insecurities. Most people I have met in my immediate life attempt to hide all of their insecurities and emotions rather than talking about them, due to fear of appearing weak or fear of busting their own ego or sense of pride. What I find is that feminine women who can be categorized in stereotypical roles due to their appearances, who also put themselves out there for the world to judge, get highly discriminated against. Swift is discriminated against due to her gender, power, and subject of discussion in her lyrics. I have also come across arguments where Swift is judged and put down, but I have found that most of these arguments are based on the emotions of jealousy, hatred, sexism, and misogyny amongst other emotions that are destructive and a waste of energy. All these lyrics also remind me that only cowards tend to target people who put themselves out there and actually DO something with their lives by working hard to be better, not bitter.

What associations came to mind and body when listening to this artist?

When listening to this album from Swift, the associations that primarily came to mind were emotions of love, acceptance, honesty, hope, reassurance, peace, and a sense of calm. My body responded with physical relaxation.

What memories arose?

A different person came to mind with each particular song. I had memories of them and the lyrics present what I would or have experienced/ told them.

What words resonated with you differently?

“You're beautiful, don't you know? You're really gonna be someone, Ask anyone” resonate with me differently because they provoke positive thinking and diminish self-doubt within myself that is imposed by other people around me.

What has your journey been with them?

I have a particular situation and a particular past setting in my life that can be represented by each and every song. 

Write a poem that speaks to why this musical icon is significant to you.

11 Lines Long (pronouns have been changed for gender-identity privacy)

(12 Lines total to keep with the rhyming) 

They hit me straight along the face

I knew I was not alone in this disgrace

Their heartless, vile, cold-stone hearts

Weren’t the only things ripping me apart

The demon glares that sent me down

That rode of death where I couldn’t be found

Only His Grace save me from flames

The hell on Earth just wasn’t a game

But somehow I climbed out of the mess

Through pain, and hate, and a blood-stained dress

My broken hands could not write a song

But the words were written down, all along.

[chrisabraham]

My giant wallet could be giving me sciatica!

Not long after I started this blog I pinched my sciatic nerve and then wrote Fighting sciatica and fascial adhesion with a massage stick. A couple months later, it happened again and I wrote Oy! My lumbago! So, tonight I have the third race in my 5-race 5k series, Crystal City 5k Fridays and am nursing a pinched nerve that I'll call sciatica again.  I ran off to grab lunch with Bob Fine in DC on my motorcycle and realized that I sit on a giant natural leather Tanner Goods Utility Bifold wallet that sits in the right pocket of my jeans all the time -- pressing right on my sciatic nerve. 

I was asking around and Tara Penelope Calishain told me on Facebook that the pressure of carrying a big fat leather wallet in your back pocket,  and the resulting pressure on the sciatic nerve when compressed or otherwise irritated by the piriformis muscle, causes the sort of pain, tingling and numbness in the buttocks and descending into the leg. It's is called piriformis syndrome. I know that my weight is a major part of this and that I sometimes wear jeans that are too tight around the waist when my weight fluctuates that there's a lot of pressure and stress on that region. And when I am working out a lot, the muscles swell, further exacerbating the syndrome and thus the pain.

So, now I am wondering if I should still run the 5k tonight -- just 3-hours away.  I have felt a lot better today so I might chance it. But if I do, I will surely need to make sure that I do a lot of rolling and massage sticking in order to fight the pesky sciatica and fascial adhesion. Not everyone thinks I should go for it.   Here's the advice I have received from my lovely friends on Facebook: On the Sciatic Pain and Running the 5K:

Susan Decoteau-Ferrier: My husband had sciatic pain. He stopped carrying his wallet in his back pocket all the time and the sciatic pain disappeared. Also, get Turmeric capsules. They are a natural anti-inflammatory. Paul Monaco: I made the switch to a money clip, what a difference. Would never go back for both comfort and simplicity. Linda Ferger Pekunka: suggested I stand with your back to the walk, feet about a foot apart. Bending your knees slowly slide your back down the wall till the small of your back is flush with the wall hold for 15 seconds and slowly stand back up. Do about 3 times and repeat a few times a day. Also sleep in a fetal position with a flat pillow between your knees. Both these tips relieves pressure from your spine. Good luck!

Stevie Wilson: Chris Abraham in the short term, get a lumbar support cushion for car and chair. Also watch how you ride your bike. and slow down (and maybe stop) the rowing. That could be the culprit. Not saying (forever) .. just for short term. (worse outcomes possible if you don't. ) Stephen Dee: You're not going to find an overnight cure. You may find something topical to help ease the pain. Some athletes will not like the following advice: Take a couple of ibuprophen a couple of hours before the race. They'll help with inflammation and pain. Line up to run the race; it's short. If you find yourself a bit uncomfortable, carry on. If it's killing you stop. Anywhere in between is a judgement call. Beyond this, hie thee to a PT specialist.

Sidney Billingsley: Fill a camelback with Gatorade and vodka. You will finish the race, you might puke but your back won't hurt . Jerome Cole: Don't do the run. Not worth the risk. Wait until this problem resolves. And I am speaking from experience here. I had a pinched nerve, exerted myself against the advice of doctors, and suffered grievously for about a month. Don't do it. Stevie Wilson: You should do alternating ice and heat (Ice first to reduce inflammation, then heat) every 30 mins. You need to watch Sitting posture too. Do you have lumbar support? Take care tonight. Epsom salt bath, ibuprofen , ice & heat .see how you feel tomorrow . If you want definitive answer tonight, then take a pass and see a doc to get a referral to PT. You know the answer already ... right now

Stephen Dee: Stevie Wilson called it. If you're in agony, do NOT run. If you're a bit achy, line up for the start (having taken ibuprofen) and see how you feel. Sometimes aches will abate with movement and exercise and sometimes they'll get worse. If you find you can walk fine but can't run without serious pain, just walk the 5k. It's a judgement call that only you can make.  Minna Aslama Horowitz: Been there. Don't stretch -- often that intensifies the pain and pinches the nerve further.  On the Big Fat Wallet: Tara Penelope Calishain: This is apparently a thing: Piriformis syndrome Sidney Billingsley: I carry my wallet in my front pocket for this very reason.  Jeff Lang: Stop doing that. Seriously, don't do that.  Paul Monaco: I made the switch to a money clip, what a difference. Would never go back for both comfort and simplicity.  Susan Decoteau-Ferrier: My husband had sciatic pain. He stopped carrying his wallet in his back pocket all the time and the sciatic pain disappeared. Also, get Turmeric capsules. They are a natural anti-inflammatory. And here's some advice from Reddit:

Astronomicca via /r/running:  It's called the "iskias nerve" and that nerve goes between the muscles in the lower back and down through the back of the legs. When you work out, e.g. run, the muscles swell and are squeezing the nerve. This causes pain in the lower back and even down through the back of the legs. The pain will go away when the muscle is done being swelled. My doctor said that the construction of the iskias nerve going through those muscles is the only thing on the human body that is stupidly designed :) Reason is obviously that using you lower back muscles can squeeze the nerve. I've tried it and it's painful but it goes away. I don't believe it's more dangerous than many other things runners put themselves through :) Manytoedsloth via /r/C25K: It's not our advice to give. No one here can tell you for sure, let alone should you trust anyone to comment on something so important. If you can't contact a professional to ask, I'd advise to sit this one out. If you're determined to race, I have no idea at all about exercises but rest is better than doing an exercise wrong. Lastly, if the pain becomes worse during the 5k, don't be stubborn - you risk making a minor injury worse and it could even become something that plagues you for months or years. Why push? There will be more races in the future - be safe with this one and you'll be fit for the later ones! Sdr4wkcab via /r/running: I have sciatica and I have found a few stretches that help relieve my pain. I do them every morning and at night. I also try to do planks and lunges (this helps strengthen my core and my glutes) which I find helps with my lower back pain. This video was very informative. This one has a stretch that I feel helps a lot. I also do the cat/cow stretch. And the top 2 stretches here, I haven't tried the bottom 2 but they look interesting. As with everything like this stop if anything starts to hurt more or feels bad. And if it continues see your doctor or a chiropractor. Good Luck! Mauser98 via /r/running: I have been having this problem also for a few months now, im 5'5 140 pounds and when I get about a mile into my run I get the same lower back pinch. Its so frustrating because I love running but its become difficult lately. I don't know what to do, I hope its nothing serious. TesticlesMcTitties via /r/running: If I were you I'd do a lot of foam rolling and that's it. During your run, concentrate on keeping your hips flat (vertical) and your core tight to mitigate the pain. From Instagram: Danieljohnsonjr: I've been keeping mine in a front pocket ever since I began to get sciata. Hasn't been a problem since. Chris_december: I keep my wallet either in my messenger bag, cargo side pockets or in the front. Never been comfortable sitting on them. Later on, I read that wallets affect the spine if kept in the back pocket. Saved without realizing the medical reason :P Noguiltfitness: Unfortunately - not coincidence at all. My chiro had me move mine over a decade ago. I'll recommend a couple of good ones to you On FB - along with the link to a great hip mobility program. I can honestly say - best program ever - keeps me out of a lot of pain. Here's the original post I made on /r/Running, /r/C25K, and Facebook: I have a 5k tomorrow but I have a pinch in my lower back that goes away when I walk but come back when I sit -- do I rest it, stretch it, work it, ignore it? You advice needed. What my massage therapist said is true: once you get a lower back nerve pinch it might become chronic. Right now, I am looking for stretches or exercises that can help me work this out. Should I really just be relaxing it, let it relax, heal, and maybe the "swelling" or whatever is happening will go away. I have my 3rd 5k run tomorrow at 6:30 and I intend to run it. I run slow, that's for sure. And I assume I won't be making it work. Right now, I feel good when I am either on my back or side or standing up at my standing treadmill desk, whether I am just standing or just walking along at 2mph. I am not asking for medical help, I am just asking for your advice. Thanks in advance. PS: I do have both a long roller stick and also a black foam roller, if there are any stretches, yoga moves, or roller moves that have worked for you in the past. PPS: Yes, losing 80-100 pounds is probably the #1 best thing for me to do, but until then  Upon more research, it looks like there's something called Walletitis:

The Claim: Keeping a Wallet in Your Back Pocket Can Cause Sciatica THE FACTS A wallet stuffed with business cards or scraps of paper might seem like more of an eyesore than a health hazard. But one old bromide holds that a thick wallet - or even one that's not so thick - can harm the lower back for those sit on it for too long. And while experts says the fears are probably exaggerated, the wallet can definitely carry some hazards. Although it was popularized by an episode of the "Seinfeld" series in the 1990's, the phenomenon was first described in a brief article in The New England Journal of Medicine in 1966, when credit cards were beginning to proliferate. The report, about a lawyer who suffered aches and pains in the left leg, not far from a wallet growing thick with charge cards, referred to the condition as "credit-carditis." Although that term never quite caught on, doctors say the condition has become increasingly common. Its onset is gradual, caused by an object that presses on the piriformis muscle in the buttocks, which is connected to the sciatic nerve, which runs down the leg. Over time, a person can develop radiating pain in the back and hip area. "Just the other day, I had to tell one patient with back pain to remove at least 20 years of stored data from his wallet," said Dr. Gerard P. Varlotta of the New York University School of Medicine. Wallets are not the only culprits. Numerous case reports have linked the condition to various back-pocket objects like large handkerchiefs and golf balls. THE BOTTOM LINE Keeping a thick wallet or object in the back pocket can gradually cause sciatica. By ANAHAD O'CONNOR, New York Times And here's the original New York Times article, The Claim: Keeping a Wallet in Your Back Pocket Can Cause Sciatica by ANAHAD O'CONNOR THE FACTS A wallet stuffed with business cards or scraps of paper might seem like more of an eyesore than a health hazard. But one old bromide holds that a thick wallet - or even one that's not so thick - can harm the lower back for those sit on it for too long. And while experts says the fears are probably exaggerated, the wallet can definitely carry some hazards. Although it was popularized by an episode of the "Seinfeld" series in the 1990's, the phenomenon was first described in a brief article in The New England Journal of Medicine in 1966, when credit cards were beginning to proliferate. The report, about a lawyer who suffered aches and pains in the left leg, not far from a wallet growing thick with charge cards, referred to the condition as "credit-carditis." Although that term never quite caught on, doctors say the condition has become increasingly common. Its onset is gradual, caused by an object that presses on the piriformis muscle in the buttocks, which is connected to the sciatic nerve, which runs down the leg. Over time, a person can develop radiating pain in the back and hip area. "Just the other day, I had to tell one patient with back pain to remove at least 20 years of stored data from his wallet," said Dr. Gerard P. Varlotta of the New York University School of Medicine. Wallets are not the only culprits. Numerous case reports have linked the condition to various back-pocket objects like large handkerchiefs and golf balls. THE BOTTOM LINE Keeping a thick wallet or object in the back pocket can gradually cause sciatica. scitimes@nytimes.com  Well, it looks to me like I really need to stop wearing this amazing and gorgeous Tanner Goods Utility Bifold in natural -- so very sad. Read the full article

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What I Didnt Know About Having A C-Section Until I Had One

Here’s my story: The whole time I was pregnant, our plan was for my husband Dan to deliver our baby. He was in his final year of an ER residency at the hospital where we were planning on delivering, he had already helped deliver babies there, and my awesome OB-GYN thought it would be amazing for him to deliver our child.

Her plan was to sit nearby in the rocking chair while he delivered, just in case he needed any advice. Then my amniotic sac (aka “water”) developed a slow leak without me going into labor. About ten hours after it had started leaking, I still hadn’t had a single contraction and I was only 1 cm. dilated, so I was hooked up to a Pitocin drip. After a whole night on Pitocin (and 24 hours after “the leak” began,) I was only 4 cm. dilated, my son was face up, his head was not at all engaged in my pelvis, and his heart rate started dropping after each contraction.

So, we talked with my OB, and we all decided that a c-section was the best option. (When my OB delivered our son, she realized that his umbilical cord had been trapped between his head and my pelvis, so if his head had moved down, it could’ve clamped off his cord and become an emergency.)

I hadn’t even bothered to pay attention when they talked about c-sections in our childbirth class, because I knew I wasn’t going to have one.

Having gone through c-section denial myself, here are some things I didn’t know that you might want to know if you’ve just had a c-section, if you’re having a scheduled c-section, or if, like me, you’re totally sure that you’ll never need a c-section. You know — just in case.

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Bethany Neumeyer

1. Walk, walk, walk.

When I shared the news of my son’s birth on Facebook, I also shared that I had a c-section. And I got a few messages from awesome women in my life (at least one of whom — an old friend from summer camp — I hadn’t spoken with in years) who had had c-sections and offered advice and encouragement. The one thing they all advised was to walk as much as I could, so I started walking (up and down the halls) the day after Lucas was born, and I think it helped a lot (not that I have anything to compare it to, but still.) As with anything else, listen to your body and don’t overdo it.

2. Take the stool softener.

From what I’ve heard, pooping the first time after you have a child is always a pain, literally,whether you delivered vaginally or by c-section. But if you have a c-section, you have the added problem that many pain medications can make you constipated. I was on Percocet after my c-section, and that stuff stops you up like you wouldn’t believe. It was kind of awful. So any time they offer you a stool softener or a laxative in the hospital, take it!(And if they don’t offer you one, ask for it.) Drink prune juice, mix fiber in your drink (if your doctor says it’s OK), eat tons of fresh fruits and veggies, and take the stool softener. I cannot stress that strongly enough. For me, constipation was the worst part of my recovery. Moving on from the fact that I just told everyone I couldn’t poop…

Bethany Neumeyer

3. Stay in the hospital for as long as they’ll let you.

I know, I know — you just want to get home to your own bed and your own clothes and your own nursery that you spent the last nine months decorating. But those things will still be there in a day or two, and in the meantime, you should take advantage of the fact that you can have healthy meals delivered to your bed and a few extra pairs of hands to help with diaper changes. Remember, you’re recovering from a major surgery and more help is a good thing. Most insurance companies cover four days in the hospital after a c-section, so if you can get it, take it.

4. Sleep as much as you can.

All new moms are told to sleep when the baby sleeps, but this is especially important when you’re recovering from a major surgery on top of new-mom sleep-deprivation. The laundry will wait. The dishes will wait. Go take a nap.

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5. You still can’t wear tampons.

Maybe I’m alone in this, but I kind of thought that the whole “no sex or tampons for at least six weeks” thing was just because your vagina goes through a traumatic experience during childbirth and needs some recovery time. Actually, it’s because you still have an open wound where the placenta was connected to your uterus. So, putting anything into your vagina is a no-no while this wound is healing because you run the risk of accidentally introducing bacteria into your uterus and causing an infection. The point is, even if you deliver by c-section instead of vaginally, you’re still going to have to use pads for your postpartum bleeding. Sorry. And while we’re kind of on the subject…

6. Sex still might hurt for a while.

This is something I neither knew nor expected. I knew that sex was painful for the first few times if you had a vaginal delivery, but I assumed that it was just because, you know, you had pushed a baby out of your vagina. But sex was still painful for me the first few times after having a c-section (and I don’t mean it was painful at the site of my incision, if you catch my drift.) I’m guessing it was because of hormones (and my son was breastfed, which causes you to be extra dry.) Use lots of lube, and take it slowly. It gets better.

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7. It’s okay to feel sad, but if you’re too sad for too long, talk to your doctor.

Some women feel some sadness after having an unplanned c-section. If you had a picture in your mind of how your baby was going to be born and then circumstances outside of your control resulted in an unplanned c-section, it’s normal to feel a little disappointed. I was fortunate in that I didn’t deal with any feelings of sorrow over my c-section after my son was born (although I did cry when we all realized I’d need to have one,) but I know that some women do feel sad over it, and that is totally normal. My concern is, is that if it seems to you that your excessive feelings of sadness, guilt or anger have a legitimate cause, you might be less likely to recognize if they’re actually symptoms of postpartum depression. So, if your feelings of sadness don’t go away or if they get worse, talk to your doctor about them.

8. Ask for (or accept) help.

This one can be tough, but things will go much more easily if you do it! If someone asks if there’s anything they can do to help, say yes! And if they don’t offer, don’t feel bad asking for specific favors from close friends or family members. If you’re breastfeeding, no one else can take over the feedings (obviously,) but that doesn’t mean they can’t change diapers, do some laundry, or rock your baby while you take a nap. If your neighbor’s planning a trip to the grocery store, ask if she can pick up a few items for you, too. The women from my bible study brought me meals for two weeks, and I can’t even tell you how wonderful it was not to have to think about getting or making food while I was recovering.

Bethany Neumeyer

9. You might have to buy more pants.

I forget how long it was before I could fit into my pre-pregnancy pants, but even when they fit well, I still couldn’t wear my jeans comfortably. The waistbands on all of my pre-pregnancy jeans were positioned at just the wrong height so that they were fine while I was standing, but when I sat, they pressed right into my c-section scar. The scar was tender if something rubbed or pressed against it for at least nine months after my son was born, and I had given up on ever wearing my pre-pregnancy jeans again and purchased all new jeans with higher waist bands by the time the sensitivity finally went away. Now I have tons of jeans, so I guess that wasn’t necessarily bad.

10. It gets better.

At first, simple things like laughing are going to hurt. You’re going to be tired and sore for a while. But it gets better. I promise. And yes, your scar will fade a whole lot. On the days (or the nights, especially the nights) that it’s really tough, it doesn’t hurt to tell yourself out loud: “This is temporary. It will get better.” Then send an email or a text to a fellow mom who can relate, and tell her you need some encouragement. (If you don’t know who to email, my email is bejaneum[at]gmail[dot]com.) It gets better. Pinky swear.

Bethany Neumeyer

And now, a few bonus tips if you haven’t had a c-section yet.

11. Daddy might be able to do skin-to-skin contact with baby if you can’t.

Skin-to-skin contact — also called Kangaroo Care — is when a newborn baby is placed naked (or wearing only a hat and diaper) on mom’s bare skin, and it’s great for newborns. (You can read more about why it’s good for them here.) I was really determined that I would do skin-to-skin contact with my baby as soon as he was born, so one of the first things I thought of when we realized a c-section was a distinct possibility was that I wouldn’t be able to have skin-to-skin contact right away since I’d be getting sutured closed. So, my husband asked if he could do it instead.

My OB had the nurses bring him scrub pants and a hospital gown, which he wore with the opening in the front, and he was able to hold Lucas against his bare chest while I was still on the operating table. Since then, my OB has recommended it to all of her c-section patients, and she even wrote a letter about it that was published in a medical journal (I have a copy in Lucas’s baby book.) If you’ve found out that you’re going to need a c-section, ask your OB about this ahead of time. (You can even mention that it was suggested in the May 2013 issue of OBG Management if you really want to sound like you’ve done your homework on the subject.)

12. Bring one or two pairs of long, comfy socks to the hospital.

Because you’ll likely be staying in bed for 18 to 24 hours after your c-section, they’ll probably put these plastic things on your lower legs that inflate and deflate to massage your legs and prevent blood clots. When they first put them on, you’ll be like, “Ahh! Leg massage! This is so luxurious!” And then after ten minutes, you’ll be asking the nurse to please, please, pretty please take them off just for one minute, please! Plastic against your bare skin just feels sticky and sweaty and uncomfortable. I imagine that soft cotton knee-high socks would help a lot. (I say “I imagine” because I didn’t know about the plastic massagers of misery and was stuck trying to bargain with the nurse that if she took them off for just five minutes, I swore I would flex my legs the entire time and also use sheer force of will to prevent blood clots.)

Moms, have any other tips? Please feel free to add them in the comments!

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