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icedbatik · 5 months

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I saw this opinion piece in the New York Times and, while I don't normally copy and paste entire newspaper articles, this is an excellent (if scary) read.

Aside from the sections on how much lack of consent there is in today's sexual landscape, hockey fans -- who should be well aware of the dangers of concussions -- might take particular note of the section in which "choking" during sex is linked to brain damage on par with concussion damage.

The Troubling Trend in Teenage Sex

April 12, 2024

By Peggy Orenstein

Debby Herbenick is one of the foremost researchers on American sexual behavior. The director of the Center for Sexual Health Promotion at Indiana University and the author of the pointedly titled book “Yes, Your Kid,” she usually shares her data, no matter how explicit, without judgment. So I was surprised by how concerned she seemed when we checked in on Zoom recently: “I haven’t often felt so strongly about getting research out there,” she told me. “But this is lifesaving.”

For the past four years, Dr. Herbenick has been tracking the rapid rise of “rough sex” among college students, particularly sexual strangulation, or what is colloquially referred to as choking. Nearly two-thirds of women in her most recent campus-representative survey of 5,000 students at an anonymized “major Midwestern university” said a partner had choked them during sex (one-third in their most recent encounter). The rate of those women who said they were between the ages 12 and 17 the first time that happened had shot up to 40 percent from one in four.

As someone who’s been writing for well over a decade about young people’s attitudes and early experience with sex in all its forms, I’d also begun clocking this phenomenon. I was initially startled in early 2020 when, during a post-talk Q. and A. at an independent high school, a 16-year-old girl asked, “How come boys all want to choke you?” In a different class, a 15-year-old boy wanted to know, “Why do girls all want to be choked?” They do? Not long after, a college sophomore (and longtime interview subject) contacted me after her roommate came home in tears because a hookup partner, without warning, had put both hands on her throat and squeezed.

I started to ask more, and the stories piled up. Another sophomore confided that she enjoyed being choked by her boyfriend, though it was important for a partner to be “properly educated” — pressing on the sides of the neck, for example, rather than the trachea. (Note: There is no safe way to strangle someone.) A male freshman said “girls expected” to be choked and, even though he didn’t want to do it, refusing would make him seem like a “simp.” And a senior in high school was angry that her friends called her “vanilla” when she complained that her boyfriend had choked her.

Sexual strangulation, nearly always of women in heterosexual pornography, has long been a staple on free sites, those default sources of sex ed for teens. As with anything else, repeat exposure can render the once appalling appealing. It’s not uncommon for behaviors to be normalized in porn, move within a few years to mainstream media, then, in what may become a feedback loop, be adopted in the bedroom or the dorm room.

Choking, Dr. Herbenick said, seems to have made that first leap in a 2008 episode of Showtime’s “Californication,” where it was still depicted as outré, then accelerated after the success of “Fifty Shades of Grey.” By 2019, when a high school girl was choked in the pilot of HBO’s “Euphoria,” it was standard fare. A young woman was choked in the opener of “The Idol” (again on HBO and also, like “Euphoria,” created by Sam Levinson; what’s with him?). Ali Wong plays the proclivity for laughs in a Netflix special, and it’s a punchline in Tina Fey’s new “Mean Girls.” The chorus of Jack Harlow’s “Lovin On Me,” which topped Billboard’s Hot 100 chart for six nonconsecutive weeks this winter and has been viewed over 99 million times on YouTube, starts with, “I’m vanilla, baby, I’ll choke you, but I ain’t no killer, baby.” How-to articles abound on the internet, and social media algorithms feed young people (but typically not their unsuspecting parents) hundreds of #chokemedaddy memes along with memes that mock — even celebrate — the potential for hurting or killing female partners.

I’m not here to kink-shame (or anything-shame). And, anyway, many experienced BDSM practitioners discourage choking, believing it to be too dangerous. There are still relatively few studies on the subject, and most have been done by Dr. Herbenick and her colleagues. Reports among adolescents are now trickling out from the United Kingdom, Australia, Iceland, New Zealand and Italy.

Twenty years ago, sexual asphyxiation appears to have been unusual among any demographic, let alone young people who were new to sex and iffy at communication. That’s changed radically in a short time, with health consequences that parents, educators, medical professionals, sexual consent advocates and teens themselves urgently need to understand.

Sexual trends can spread quickly on campus and, to an extent, in every direction. But, at least among straight kids, I’ve sometimes noticed a pattern: Those that involve basic physical gratification — like receiving oral sex in hookups — tend to favor men. Those that might entail pain or submission, like choking, are generally more for women.

So, while undergrads of all genders and sexualities in Dr. Herbenick’s surveys report both choking and being choked, straight and bisexual young women are far more likely to have been the subjects of the behavior; the gap widens with greater occurrences. (In a separate study, Dr. Herbenick and her colleagues found the behavior repeated across the United States, particularly for adults under 40, and not just among college students.) Alcohol may well be involved, and while the act is often engaged in with a steady partner, a quarter of young women said partners they’d had sex with on the day they’d met also choked them.

Either way, most say that their partners never or only sometimes asked before grabbing their necks. For many, there had been moments when they couldn’t breathe or speak, compromising the ability to withdraw consent, if they’d given it. No wonder that, in a separate study by Dr. Herbenick, choking was among the most frequently listed sex acts young women said had scared them, reporting that it sometimes made them worry whether they’d survive.

Among girls and women I’ve spoken with, many did not want or like to be sexually strangled, though in an otherwise desired encounter they didn’t name it as assault. Still, a sizable number were enthusiastic; they requested it. It is exciting to feel so vulnerable, a college junior explained. The power dynamic turns her on; oxygen deprivation to the brain can trigger euphoria.

That same young woman, incidentally, had never climaxed with a partner: While the prevalence of choking has skyrocketed, rates of orgasm among young women have not increased, nor has the “orgasm gap” disappeared among heterosexual couples. “It indicates they’re not doing other things to enhance female arousal or pleasure,” Dr. Herbenick said.

When, for instance, she asked one male student who said he choked his partner whether he’d ever tried using a vibrator instead, he recoiled. “Why would I do that?” he asked.

Perhaps, she responded, because it would be more likely to produce orgasm without risking, you know, death.

In my interviews, college students have seen male orgasm as a given; women’s is nice if it happens, but certainly not expected or necessarily prioritized (by either partner). It makes sense, then, that fulfillment would be less the motivator for choking than appearing adventurous or kinky. Such performances don’t always feel good.

“Personally, my hypothesis is that this is one of the reasons young people are delaying or having less sex,” Dr. Herbenick said. “Because it’s uncomfortable and weird and scary. At times some of them literally think someone is assaulting them but they don’t know. Those are the only sexual experiences for some people. And it’s not just once they’ve gotten naked. They’ll say things like, ‘I’ve only tried to make out with someone once because he started choking and hitting me.’”

Keisuke Kawata, a neuroscientist at Indiana University’s School of Public Health, was one of the first researchers to sound the alarm on how the cumulative, seemingly inconsequential, sub-concussive hits football players sustain (as opposed to the occasional hard blow) were key to triggering C.T.E., the degenerative brain disease. He’s a good judge of serious threats to the brain. In response to Dr. Herbenick’s work, he’s turning his attention to sexual strangulation. “I see a similarity” to C.T.E., he told me, “though the mechanism of injury is very different.” In this case, it is oxygen-blocking pressure to the throat, frequently in light, repeated bursts of a few seconds each.

Strangulation — sexual or otherwise — often leaves few visible marks and can be easily overlooked as a cause of death. Those whose experiences are nonlethal rarely seek medical attention, because any injuries seem minor: Young women Dr. Herbenick studied mostly reported lightheadedness, headaches, neck pain, temporary loss of coordination and ear ringing. The symptoms resolve, and all seems well. But, as with those N.F.L. players, the true effects are silent, potentially not showing up for days, weeks, even years.

According to the American Academy of Neurology, restricting blood flow to the brain, even briefly, can cause permanent injury, including stroke and cognitive impairment. In M.R.I.s conducted by Dr. Kawata and his colleagues (including Dr. Herbenick, who is a co-author of his papers on strangulation), undergraduate women who have been repeatedly choked show a reduction in cortical folding in the brain compared with a never-choked control group. They also showed widespread cortical thickening, an inflammation response that is associated with elevated risk of later-onset mental illness. In completing simple memory tasks, their brains had to work far harder than the control group, recruiting from more regions to achieve the same level of accuracy.

The hemispheres in the choked group’s brains, too, were badly skewed, with the right side hyperactive and the left underperforming. A similar imbalance is associated with mood disorders — and indeed in Dr. Herbenick’s surveys girls and women who had been choked were more likely than others (or choked men) to have experienced overwhelming anxiety, as well as sadness and loneliness, with the effect more pronounced as the incidence rose: Women who had experienced more than five instances of choking were two and a half times as likely as those who had never been choked to say they had been so depressed within the previous 30 days they couldn’t function. Whether girls and women with mental health challenges are more likely to seek out (or be subjected to) choking, choking causes mood disorders, or some combination of the two is still unclear. But hypoxia, or oxygen deprivation — judging by what research has shown about other types of traumatic brain injury — could be a contributing factor. Given the soaring rates of depression and anxiety among young women, that warrants concern.

Now consider that every year Dr. Herbenick has done her survey, the number of females reporting extreme effects from strangulation (neck swelling, loss of consciousness, losing control of urinary function) has crept up. Among those who’ve been choked, the rate of becoming what students call “cloudy” — close to passing out, but not crossing the line — is now one in five, a huge proportion. All of this indicates partners are pressing on necks longer and harder.

The physical, cognitive and psychological impacts of sexual choking are disturbing. So is the idea that at a time when women’s social, economic, educational and political power are in ascent (even if some of those rights may be in jeopardy), when #MeToo has made progress against harassment and assault, there has been the popularization of a sex act that can damage our brains, impair intellectual functioning, undermine mental health, even kill us. Nonfatal strangulation, one of the most significant indicators that a man will murder his female partner (strangulation is also one of the most common methods used for doing so), has somehow been eroticized and made consensual, at least consensual enough. Yet, the outcomes are largely the same: Women’s brains and bodies don’t distinguish whether they are being harmed out of hate or out of love.

By now I’m guessing that parents are curled under their chairs in a fetal position. Or perhaps thinking, “No, not my kid!” (see: title of Dr. Herbenick’s book above, which, by the way, contains an entire chapter on how to talk to your teen about “rough sex”).

I get it. It’s scary stuff. Dr. Herbenick is worried; I am, too. And we are hardly some anti-sex, wait-till-marriage crusaders. But I don’t think our only option is to wring our hands over what young people are doing.

Parents should take a beat and consider how they might give their children relevant information in a way that they can hear it. Maybe reiterate that they want them to have a pleasurable sex life — you have already said that, right? — and also want them to be safe. Tell them that misinformation about certain practices, including choking, is rampant, that in reality it has grave health consequences. Plus, whether or not a partner initially requested it, if things go wrong, you’re generally criminally on the hook.

Dr. Herbenick suggests reminding them that there are other, lower-risk ways to be exploratory or adventurous if that is what they are after, but it would be wisest to delay any “rough sex” until they are older and more skilled at communicating. She offers language when negotiating with a new partner, such as, “By the way, I’m not comfortable with” — choking, or other escalating behaviors such as name-calling, spitting and genital slapping — “so please don’t do it/don’t ask me to do it to you.” They could also add what they are into and want to do together.

I’d like to point high school health teachers to evidence-based porn literacy curricula, but I realize that incorporating such lessons into their classrooms could cost them their jobs. Shafia Zaloom, a lecturer at the Harvard Graduate School of Education, recommends, if that’s the case, grounding discussions in mainstream and social media. There are plenty of opportunities. “You can use it to deconstruct gender norms, power dynamics in relationships, ‘performative’ trends that don’t represent most people’s healthy behaviors,” she said, “especially depictions of people putting pressure on someone’s neck or chest.”

I also know that pediatricians, like other adults, struggle when talking to adolescents about sex (the typical conversation, if it happens, lasts 40 seconds). Then again, they already caution younger children to use a helmet when they ride a bike (because heads and necks are delicate!); they can mention that teens might hear about things people do in sexual situations, including choking, then explain the impact on brain health and why such behavior is best avoided. They should emphasize that if, for any reason — a fall, a sports mishap or anything else — a young person develops symptoms of head trauma, they should come in immediately, no judgment, for help in healing.

The role and responsibility of the entertainment industry is a tangled knot: Media reflects behavior but also drives it, either expanding possibilities or increasing risks. There is precedent for accountability. The European Union now requires age verification on the world’s largest porn sites (in ways that preserve user privacy, whatever that means on the internet); that discussion, unsurprisingly, had been politicized here. Social media platforms have already been pushed to ban content promoting eating disorders, self-harm and suicide — they should likewise be pressured to ban content promoting choking. Traditional formats can stop glamorizing strangulation, making light of it, spreading false information, using it to signal female characters’ complexity or sexual awakening. Young people’s sexual scripts are shaped by what they watch, scroll by and listen to — unprecedentedly so. They deserve, and desperately need, models of interactions that are respectful, communicative, mutual and, at the very least, safe.

Peggy Orenstein is the author of “Boys & Sex: Young Men on Hookups, Love, Porn, Consent and Navigating the New Masculinity” and “Girls & Sex: Navigating the Complicated New Landscape.”

#off-theme #and long #but worth the read

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familyabolisher · 1 year

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hi if u don’t mind me asking, could u please elaborate on your thoughts on the critique of contemporary anti-intellectualism (specifically on social media)? i’m legitimately curious and enjoy a lot of ur analysis and commentary i mean this in good faith :)

Broadly speaking, the philosophical concept of anti-intellectualism tends to critically describe the ideological + rhetorical relegation of intellectual production to an elitist practice fundamentally at odds with the interests of the layman; and, crucially, the treatment of these categories as fixities. I disagree with the propositions of that philosophical discourse as well, but that’s not always the form that the discourse takes on this website. On here, ‘anti-intellectualism’ is more of a vague catch-all used to describe anything from people who express frustration with the literary canon & mainstream schooling in ways that don’t coddle the sensibilities of people with literature degrees to people who come out with outright fascistic views on provocative art; it attempts to corral what are in fact very disparate positions and perspectives under the umbrella of insufficient ‘intellect,’ often shorthanded to ‘reading comprehension’ or ‘media literacy’ (or ‘[in]curiosity,’ a new favourite) without any materialist investigation into what we mean when we talk about intellect and literacy and a lack thereof or whether this is a politically expedient description of the dynamic[s] in question.

When I say materialism, I mean it in the Marxist sense, ie. as a counter to idealism—because what’s being described here is a fundamentally idealist (and therefore useless) position. The discourse of anti-intellectualism as it exists on this website relies on idealist propositions—people lack curiosity, they lack interest, they are ‘lazy,’ they are ‘illiterate’ where ‘illiterate’ is not a value-neutral statement about one’s relationship to a socially constituted ‘literacy’ but communicating a moral indictment, at its worst they are ‘stupid,’ ‘idiots’—these descriptors rely on an assumption of immutable internal properties rather than providing a materialist description for why things are the way that they are. These aren’t actionable descriptors; at best they’re evasive because they circumvent serious interrogation of the conditions they’re describing, at worst they’re harbingers of an inclination towards eugenicist rhetoric. The discourse casts those who are ‘illiterate’—which in this capacity means those who fail to perform conventional literacy, who lack a traditional education, who don’t demonstrate sufficient interest in classic literature—or the more unkind ‘stupid’ (which, frankly, is what people want to say when they say ‘illiterate’ or ‘incurious’ anyway, lmao) as socially disposable and places the onus of changing one’s behaviour (so as to not be cast as illiterate/incurious/stupid) on them rather than asking what conditions have produced XYZ discourse of social disposability and responding with compassion and ethical diligence; I hope I don’t have to explain why this is eugenicist.

The discourse also lacks an ability to coherently describe what is meant by the ‘intellectualism’ in question—after all, merely appealing to ‘intellectualism’ is a similarly idealist rhetorical move if you don’t have the material grounding to back it up—and indeed tends to dismiss legitimate critiques of intellectual + cultural production as ‘anti-intellectual.’ People love to talk about ‘literacy,’ but don’t like expounding on what they’re actually describing when they do so—the selection of traits and actions that come together to constitute a correct demonstration of ‘literacy’ are built on the bedrock of eg. an ability to thrive within the school system (a mechanism of social control and stratification), fluently speak the dominant language by which this ‘literacy’ is being assessed (in online spaces like Tumblr this is usually English), and engage with the ‘right’ texts in the ‘right’ ways where ‘right’ means ‘invested with legitimacy and authority by the governing body of the academy.’ Literacy is used as a metric of assimilation into hegemonic society by which immigrant and working-class children are made rhetorically disposable unless they demonstrate their ability to integrate into the hegemonic culture (linked post talks about immigrant families being rendered ‘illiterate’ as a tactic of racism in France, but the same applies to the US, UK, etc); similarly, disabled people who for whatever reason will never achieve the level of ‘literacy’ required to not have Tumblr users doing vagueposts about how you deserve a eugenicist death for watching a kids’ show are by this discourse rendered socially disposable, affirming the paradigms which already make up their experience under a social system which reifies ableism in order to sustain itself. (This includes, by the way, the genre of posts making fun of the idea that someone with ADHD could ever struggle with reading theory.) ‘Literacy’ as the ability to understand and respond to a text is difficult and dispersed according to disparate levels of social access, and a lack of what we call literacy is incredibly shameful; any movement towards liberation (and specifically liberatory pedagogy) worth its salt needs to challenge the stigma against illiteracy, but this website’s iteration of ‘anti-intellectualism’ discourse seems to only want to reaffirm it.

Similarly, the discourse dismisses out of hand efforts to give a materialist critique of the academy and the body of texts that make up the ‘canon’—I’m thinking of a post I saw literally this morning positing a hypothetical individual’s disinterest in reading canonical (“classic”) literature as an “anti-intellectual” practice which marked them as an “idiot.” (Obviously, cf. above comments re. ‘stupidity,’ ‘idiocy’ as eugenicist constructions.) People who will outright call themselves Marxists seem to get incredibly uncomfortable at the suggestion that there are individuals for whom the literary canon is not even slightly interesting and who will never in their lives engage with it or desire to engage with it, and this fact does not delegitimise their place in revolutionary thinking and organising (frankly, in many areas, it strengthens it); they seem determined to continue to defer to the canon as a signifier of authority and therefore value, rather than acknowledging its role as a marker of class and classed affects and a rubric by which civility (cf. linked post above) could be enforced. (I believe the introduction to Chris Baldick’s The Social Mission of English Criticism touches on this dimension of literary studies as a civilising mission of sorts, as well as expounding on the ways in which ‘literary studies’ as we presently understand it is a nineteenth-century phenomenon responding to the predictable nineteenth-century crises and contradictions.) People will defer to, for example, Dumas, Baldwin, Morrison, to contravene the idea that the literary canon is made up of ‘straight white men,’ without appreciating that this is a hugely condescending way to talk about their work, that this collapses three very different writers into the singular category of ‘Black canonical writer’ and thus stymies engagement with their work at any level other than that of 'Black canonical literature' (why else put Dumas and Morrison in the same sentence, unless as a cheap rhetorical ‘gotcha’? I like both but they’re completely different writers lmfao), and that this excises from the sphere of legitimacy those Black writers who don’t make it into the authorising space of the canon; and, of course, reaffirms the canon’s authenticity and dismisses out of hand the critique of loyalty to hegemony that the ‘straight white men’ aphorism rightly imposes.

The discourse operates on a unilateral scale by which the more ‘literacy’ (ie. ability to speak the language of the literati) one has, the greater their moral worth, and a lack of said ‘literacy’ indicates the inverse. This overlooks the ways in which the practice of literary criticism wholly in line with what these people would call ‘intellectualism’ has historically been wielded as a tactic of reactionary conservatism; one only has to look at the academic output of Harold Bloom for examples of this. People will often pay lipservice to the hegemony of the academy and the practices by which only certain individuals are allowed access to intellectual production (stratified along classed + racialised lines, of course), but fail to really internalise this idea in understanding that the critical practices they afford a significant degree of legitimacy are inextricable from the academy from which they emerged, and that we can and should be imagining alternative forms of pedagogy and criticism taking place away from sites which restrict access based on allegiance to capital. Part of my communism means believing in the abolition of the university; this is not an ‘anti-intellectual’ position but a straightforwardly materialist one.

A final core problem with the 'anti-intellectualism' discourse is that it's obscurantist. As I explained above, it posits the problem with eg. poor engagement with theoretical concepts, challenging art, etc., to be one of 'intellect' and 'curiosity,' idealist rather than materialist states. In practice, the reasons behind what gets cast as 'anti-intellectualism' are very disparate. Sometimes, we're talking about a situation wherein (as I explained above) someone lacks 'literacy'; sometimes we're talking about the reason for someone's refusal to engage with and interpret art with care and deference being one of bigotry (eg. racist dismissals of non-white artists' work, misogynistic devaluing of women's work, etc.); sometimes we're talking about a reactive discomfort with marginalised people communicating difficult concepts online as a 'know-your-place' response (eg. backlash against 'jargon' on here is almost always attacking posts from/about marginalised people talking about their oppression, with the attacks coming from people who have failed to properly understand that oppression; I've been called a jargonistic elitist for talking about antisemitism, I've seen similar things happen to mutuals who talk about racism and transmisogyny). All of these are incredibly different situations that require incredibly different responses; the person who doesn't care to engage with a text in a way that an English undergrad might because doing so doesn't interest them or they lack the requisite skill level is not comparable to the person who doesn't care to engage with a text because they don't respect the work of a person of colour enough to do so. Collapsing these things under the aegis of 'anti-intellectualism' lacks explanatory power and fails to provide a sufficient actionable response.

Ultimately, the discourse is made up of a lot of people who are very high on their own capabilities when it comes to literary analysis (which, as others have pointed out, seems to be the only arena where all this ever takes place, despite the conventional understanding of ‘media literacy’ referring as much to a discerning eye for propaganda and misinformation as an ability to churn out a cute little essay on Don Quixote) and have managed to find an acceptable outlet for their dislike of anyone who lacks the same, and have provided retroactive justification in the form of the claim that not only is [a specific form of] literary analysis [legible through deference to the authority of the literary canon & the scholarship of the nineteenth century and onward surrounding it] possible for everyone, it is in fact necessary in order to access the full breadth of one’s humanity such that an absence thereof reveals an individual as subhuman and thus socially disposable. A failure to be sufficiently literate is only ever a choice and a personal failing, which is how this discourse escapes accountability for the obviously bigoted presumptions upon which it rests. In this, all materialism is done away with; compassion is done away with, as it becomes possible to describe the multiplicity of reasons why someone cannot or does not demonstrate ‘literacy’ in X, Y or Z ways in the sum total of a couple of adjectives; nothing productive comes of this discourse but a reassertion of the conditions of hegemony in intellectual practice and the bolstering of the smugness of a few people at the expense of alienating everyone else.

As I’ve said countless times before, the way to counteract what we might perceive as ‘incuriosity’ or disinterest in challenging texts is to talk about these challenging texts and our approaches to them as often as we can, to make the pedagogical practices that are usually kept behind the walls of the academy as widely accessible as possible (and to adjust our pedagogy beyond the confines of ideological hegemony that the academy imposes), and to encourage a culture by which people feel empowered to share their thoughts, discuss, ask questions, and explore without being made to feel ashamed for not understanding something. The people who cry ‘anti-intellectualism’ because they saw someone on Tiktok express a disinterest in reading Jane Eyre are accomplishing none of this.

#ask

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deirdra-hearts-nadia · 1 year

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I've been thinking about the fandom for The Arcana, and I have come to the conclusion that it's weird as hell. In my 20+ years participating in online fandom spaces, I've never seen a fandom quite like this one. I've seen drama, sure, but the core of most fandoms is a large community of people who love the same media and come together to celebrate it.

The Arcana fandom is not like that. From the very beginning we're more fractured, more factional, more fragile than most. You just have to look around at all the posts lamenting the death of the fandom every 2 weeks to see that something is really wrong here.

And I think a lot of it has to do with the nature of the canon. I am not saying this to criticize The Arcana, the devs, Dorian, or my fellow fans. I have just noticed that, as a piece of media, this game occupies a very unique space that is reflected in the way its fans interact with canon and with each other.

Welcome to the TED talk ain't none of y'all asked for.

Part of what makes this fandom unique is the evolution of fandom as a whole in the face of new types of media. As gaming becomes more mainstream and games themselves become more complex, the way we engage has necessarily changed in response.

Books/ movies/ shows are slightly more static in terms of canon than video games; canon is what it is and how you interact with what is there is largely to do with who you are. Everyone has the same base material to engage with, and that results in a certain amount of constancy. You can't interact with The Princess Bride in a way that changes the movie, only in ways that change your own perception. There isn't a whole lot of room for OCs without rewriting canon, so fans tend to consume OC-based fiction and art with the assumption that it's likely to be self-insert wish fulfillment fantasy time. That isn't always true, but there is a reason the term Mary Sue was coined.

Otome games and other choice-based video games make a very different fan environment, because the way you interact with canon is completely different. You have to build a character in order to interact with the story, and your choices directly impact your experience of canon.

But most western choice-based games are in the context of a larger RPG universe, e.g. Fallout or Dragon Age. There is a lot more to the story than the romance plot and so there's a lot more world to experience, contextualize, and build upon. There's certainly plenty of unhinged ShepxGarrus erotica, but there's also an abundance of fanworks that engage with the plot, the worldbuilding, and the canon characters with relatively little of the player's character needing to be on the page at all.

By contrast, most otome games that make it to English-speaking fandom spaces are Japanese. The romance is the point, but we also start from a place of wariness of our fellow fans. Because there's a huge difference between "harmless weeb" and "orientalist fetishizing creepo," and you know going in that both ends of the spectrum are possible, there is an amount of caution. We curate our space, looking for the creators who align with our expectations and values before we ever begin to interact.

The Arcana falls in a very unique and odd space because it is an otome, but made by Americans, with an attempt at a diverse fantasy cast. It's intended to be for American/ English-speaking audiences and is marketed as such. But making a romance game in America is challenging. Our way of approaching online media, especially smartphone-accessible media, is super fucked up, right? We are constantly trapped between the dichotomies of moral duty (Must Protect The Children) versus appealing to the customer base (Boom Anime Babes with Tig Ol Bitties). Because this is a mobile game, the developers can't make money if the game is removed from the app store, so they want it to be rated teen at the most. But the enticing bit, the thing that captures a potential fan's attention, is the flirtation and sexy implications. So from the jump they're in a weird space purely because they chose to make a mobile game instead of an indie video game released on Steam or similar.

So now you have an inherently split audience: mature adults who know they're getting into a potentially explicit romance game, and young adults/teens who have grown up in a more insulated internet culture where normal words are replaced with Orwellian doublespeak, like "unalive" and "spicy time".

THEN you add in the fact that the developers tried to build a diverse fantasy world, which is a fantastic idea both from an inclusionary standpoint and a broader audience standpoint. But because they didn't employ any actual sensitivity readers (did they think they didn't need them because fantasy can't have racism? Did they justify it as not being in the budget? Would love to know what's going on there) they fell right into a lot of the classic traps. We've been over these time and again, so I won't get into them here. Suffice to say, there has been Discourse. The presence of those issues means that more experienced fans will see those things and call them out, and that criticism causes even more of a split: the zealous apologists versus the critics. And critics can fall into two further categories: those who love the canon and want to see it do better, and the bitches who just love having something to bitch about.

Unfortunately, this combination means that there are inherently factions to this fandom, with staunchly opposed approaches to the media. So even before you enter a fandom space, it's already wildly fractured simply because of the nature of base canon.

THEN add to that the fact that this game is a dating sim. And to engage with a dating sim, you have to build a character and make choices based on that character. Some people will approach this work as storytelling, and some will approach it as an escapist expression of self. Neither of these ways of engaging with canon is wrong. Enjoying a dating sim as Me But Better is fun and completely valid! Engaging with a dating sim as a storyteller collaborating with the developers is fun and completely valid! But the two approaches are opposed in purpose, and that can make it difficult for the two types of fans to engage with one another's work.

Storytellers will well and truly invest in building a character. They may even build out communities, countries, cultures, and languages to make their world all the richer. They are investing hours of blood, sweat, and tears into Their Craft, pouring themselves into an opus of quality fanwork. Unfortunately, this can sometimes lead to big feelings. Fan artists and writers may feel underappreciated if all they get out of their hard work is 2 likes and a gif of a wolf making AWOOGA eyes. They may feel that critique of their work is unwarranted, or that there's no point creating if no one will engage.

The romantics will engage with canon and fanwork from the perspective that "this is my fantasy romance time". Their OC isn't so much Original Character as Optimized Characteristics--that is, their perfect self. They are here for wish fulfillment fun times in the relative privacy and anonymity of the internet, and good for them! But that may mean that criticism of canon or their fan work feels excessively personal--it is very hard to detach the ego from the OC when that OC is a projection of your best self. They may view any critique as a personal attack as opposed to a good-faith attempt at engagement or conversation. This can lead to defensiveness, or to leaving the fandom outright if it feels too hostile.

Unfortunately all of these factions cause rifts in the community. This sometimes turns into fandom vigilantism, where people begin to see any fan who doesn't wholeheartedly agree with them as an enemy. I've seen friends experience bullying and cruelty over their OCs and their art. I've seen predators use the isolated nature of the fandom to further isolate and prey upon already vulnerable individuals. I've seen some really shitty stuff.

But I have also seen beautiful community flourish. I've made friends who feel more like family than my actual relatives. I've seen people work through struggles and overcome deliberate attempts to tear us apart, finding forgiveness and friendship along the way. I've seen myself and others grow because of the community and inspiration we found here. And I saw all of that because I found my people. And I hope, Arcana fandom, that the rest of you can find your people too.

#the arcana #oops i did a ted talk #fandom discourse #the arcana fandom

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zombie-bait · 10 months

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Omg i just realized I have something tiny to add to the whole James Somerton debacle. I'm currently watching the hbombguy vid (as you do when procrastinating assignments) and I remembered something that stood out to me in James' old videos.

So I used to be a fan of his stuff. I am also a fan of Hannibal and IWTV. He made a video covering both so naturally I was very hyped. It was called 'The Gay Appeal of Toxic Love.' The vid itself was fine (I don't remember having any super strong opinions of it besides being excited to hear ppl mention Interview cuz I had recently become obsessed) but one thing did stand out to me. In the IWTV section he mentions Nicki and, naturally, his death:

"After becoming a vampire, Nicky becomes nearly catatonic, and eventually slips away from Lestat entirely. And after centuries of dealing with depression and severe mental illness, Nicky kills himself."

(sourced from this transcript: https://github.com/TerraJRiley/James_Somerton_Transcripts/blob/main/Transcripts/The%20Gay%20Appeal%20of%20Toxic%20Love.txt)

To anyone who's read TVL, I don't think I need to explain that Nicki had not, in fact, been around for centuries. "Nicki had lived to be 30" has been rattling around in my head since I first read it.

And like, obviously I don't expect every youtube essayist to read several long-ish novels to have a full grasp of the series' deep lore, especially when the focus was largely on IWTV and Loustat rather than the entire Vampire Chronicles. Still, it makes you wonder a bit about the quality of the research being done here. You can find the proper info in like, 5 seconds by just going on the fan wiki so I'm not sure what his sources were. And that's the issue at hand, isn't it?

At the time I felt a tiny bit smug recognizing the error but in light of everything that's been revealed, it's kind of telling. I'm not saying this part was plagiarized (I haven't found anything but others on reddit have found issues with different sections of the same video) but rereading the transcript it comes off as someone who clearly doesn't know much about Interview.... It feels like he's reading through a loose summary of plot points rather than analyzing a piece of media that actually means anything to him. It's very much Interview for people who don't know Interview which, one could argue is fair. Especially beyond book one, VC is a niche series and a lot of elements that are important to certain characters or plot lines cannot be summarized quickly for an audience unfamiliar with it. A good writer, who's done a lot of research about the specific topic they have chosen to make a video on, would be able to balance this. There is a LOT to analyze about queerness in VC and its a shame to see one of the more popular queer media channels half-assing it just to churn out videos heavily made up of other people's work. In retrospect he had several videos like that, where he would discuss things like manga/manhua communities while clearly having little knowledge on the nuance of those subjects. He was an outsider who presented himself with a strange amount of authority.

This was content created with the sole intention of propping up queer stories and history, yet it's built off stolen work from queer authors and doesn't actually care that much about exploring the communities it features. Vids like the IWTV one weren't really fact checked because it's only people like me who would might give a shit or even notice anything is off in the first place. There's a bit of a similar vibe in some of his other vids where he undermines the experiences of queer women because he clearly has not taken the time to learn about the nuances of representing queer women in media. These are things that irritated me when I first started to notice them but I put those concerns in the back of my mind because I cared about the topics he was covering and was excited to see these discussions becoming more mainstream.

The revelations of this evening have been disappointing to say the least.

(also for the record I know he made other more recent vids about IWTV but I haven't seen those and even if his account was still up I don't think I would lol

BUT

I did look at the transcript for his 'Vampires and the Gays Who Love Them' video (found from the same link I included above) and this quote about the IWTV AMC show is sending me: "Daniel has never grappled with the complexities of being gay"

Shoutout to straight, uncomplicated icon Daniel Molloy. Devil's Minion was a mass hallucination, spread the word)

#iwtv #interview with the vampire #james somerton #hbomberguy #vampire chronicles #iwtv spoilers #the vampire lestat #youtube #anne rice #queer media

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chronically-ghosted · 7 months

Text

you got your claws in me honey, like a tiger in love

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

word count: 8K

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

summary: you arrive at your estranged uncle's door. what else is there to do but catch up over grilled cheese? well, if you have anything to say about it, you might end up doing a bit more.

warnings: dbf!dieter, grilled cheese as a way to guilt trip your dad's best friend/uncle into fucking you, drug use (weed), raising arizona that comes with its own warning, flirting with someone twice your age, no smut — that’s what part 2 is for, reminiscing, a cliffhanger? 👀

a/n: the original fic came out MONTHS before the mcu rumors, so either i have precognition, or the apocalypse is becoming predicable. happy valentine's day you filthy animals because nothing says romance like porking your dad's best friend

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From the voicemail of Mr. Paul Landeau, official Hollywood talent manager and agent to one Mr. Dieter Bravo . . .

Tuesday, 6:43PM

No, I’m not doing it. I’m not.

There has to be something else out there. Look, I know Fire Monsters: A Cliff Beasts story didn’t do as well as we hoped, but Reddit says it could be a cult classic so why don’t you focus on making that happen, okay? Instead of giving me shit roles like this. I’m not doing it.

– the sound of a door opening and the phone being shuffled – – a zipper rips – – liquid pouring –

We fucking talked about this, man. I told you I needed something different, something new. Tiktok is just reels of me screaming and dying – it’s fucking bullshit –

– more liquid –

I’m done playing the fucking bad guy. I’m not signing any more headless action figures for those little snot-nosed, little fuckers in line. I’m not asking to sign their moms’ tits, either – okay, maybe – but Jesus Christ, Paul, what you sent over is, like, the opposite of where I need to be. It’s for little teeny boppers with one or two B horror movies under their belt to finally break out into the mainstream – or where actors over forty go to cash in an easy paycheck. And yes, I fucking know we need something, but fuck – is this really all there is?

– liquid stops pouring – – zipper rips – – the sound of a toilet flushing –

Don’t fucking call me back, Paul, unless you’ve got something. Something real.

Tuesday, 8:23PM

OW! Motherf–

– a skillet clattering –

Okay – fuck, that hurts – okay, Paul, what about this? It came to me in the bathroom. Remember Jack from the Christmas party at the studio’s place? So, he’s got those two Sundance films, right, but they’re in Spanish, so not appealing to an American audience. Nicki told me that he’s thinking about doing another project, one with a wider appeal, and I’m thinking I should totally give him a call. I think we could vibe. I really liked his stuff – reminded me of my old small town, fucking around with the neighbor kids, you know? Kinda hometown hero sort of thing.

– sharp inhale then a cough –

It’s not my usual thing, but I think we should give it a try. Gimme a call.

Oh, do you know how to make a grilled cheese sandwich? Been craving one but I think I might burn down my house if I try again and UberEats doesn’t reach the good places further south. Oh, fuck, wait –

Hey Google, how do you make a fucking excellent grilled cheese?

Tuesday, 9:21PM

No, fucking–

Siri – how.do.you.treat.a.burn?

Calling. . . Burger King . . .

No! Fuck!

Tuesday, 10:49PM

Paul-y! Baby! Paul-ito!

Don’t worry. I got an idea that’s going to make us a million dollars.

A shop that makes only grilled cheese. But like – fancy grilled cheese. What do the kids fucking call it, ah – boogie – yeah, boogie grilled cheese. Like gouda and white cheddar, and butter churned by blind nuns or some shit. Tomato soups that have been blessed by the Dalai Lama.

Big sign out front that says, Vegans Can Eat Shit.

They’ll eat it up.

Fuck yeah, they will.

– silence for three minutes and sixteen seconds –

Fuck acting, man. Fuck this place.

And fuck this fucking cheese that keeps burning – goddamn it!

Tuesday, 11:52PM

Paul, why don’t we hang out anymore?

When I got started, we hung out all the time, man.

Hot dogs on the Santa Monica pier. Beer in the Pacific Ocean.

You showed me all the cool spots that no one else in LA knew about. You got me my first bump and my first stripper. God, that was fucking wild, man, you remember? I was so nervous I thought I was going to throw up. Did I ever tell you that before? Coke probably didn’t help a kid from a small town in South Cali, but – fuck, it made me feel better. Like I could get my shit together if I really tried.

What, are you too good for me now – is that it? Am I not good enough for you, huh?

Look, I’ve got Raising Arizona on right now, so why don’t you come over with a six pack –

Oh, shit, that’s right. You got a fucking family now.

Not a good influence, ol’ Dee.

Not a good –

Wednesday, 1:05AM

Fine, Paul. Fine.

I’ll play Mr. Fantastic in the Fantastic Four reboot.

Dieter’s thumb brushes the red End Call button and tosses his phone onto the kitchen island with a growl. He can feel himself coming down from the bump earlier – a thing he absolutely did not want to happen – and he shoves his palms into his eye sockets.

There is more coke upstairs, but that would require him to walk through his very long hallways to get there. Very long, and dark, and empty hallways.

He should have asked Maria to stay once she was done with the laundry. He would have done it right too – big bowl of popcorn, fully dressed, with a sign around his neck that said, I promise I’m not trying to sleep with you.

He is becoming increasingly aware of how many erratic voicemails he just left for his agent, aware that behavior like that was libel to get him a sit down in Paul’s office with all the blinds and windows closed, Paul’s narrow face serious and using Concerned Emotion #5, as he asks, “do we need to go back to rehab, Dieter?”

We.

There once was a “we”, now there was just “he” – in a house with seven bedrooms and a pool that could fit a sixteen wheeler in it.

And TWO kitchens – why the fuck did he think he needed two kitchens –

Well, he knew he didn’t need two, but it would have been cool to show them off to someone – If there was anyone to show them off to . . .

Fuck this downer mood.

Dieter snatches up his phone again, and the movement brings up his latest apps. UberEats is the second one. He taps in a few keywords, blatantly ignoring his latest call list.

Goddamn Burger King . . .

The front doorbell rings.

Dieter frowns, pulling the screen closer under his big nose. Now, he knows he is high and he knows he should be wearing his glasses when reading but there’s no fucking way . . .

He goes out of the kitchen, the room still smelling of burnt cheese with the cast iron skillet in the sink and a black husk sticking to its bottom. He goes left, then right, his robe tightly wrapped around him as if he is some huffy housewife, then down a hall and across the marble entrance way – fuming – why is this house so goddamn huge – who thought this was a good idea?

And so he wrenches open the front door – to a girl, not holding a Burger King bag. No, she’s got a roller suitcase behind her, bright blue, and she and the case are dripping wet. Like, just sprayed with a hose kind of wet and her big bottom lip is trembling. Behind her, the sky pukes buckets of rain, groaning with thunder.

Now, he likes his call girls (he always thought it was classier to call them that) a little more . . . vampy than this, but hell, he had been turned on by much less than this— than her with her big eyes, fat droplets rolling off her lashes, flushed cheeks – and oh, shit, her shirt is totally see-through – is that purple, he feels the back of his mouth flush with spit – wow, is this Paul’s way of apology because –

“Uncle Dee?”

And he’s mentally shoving himself back into his pants because no one in years has called him that and that was a very different time in place, when he was a completely different person and if this girl is the person he thinks it is, then – Jesus Christ, he’s bound and gagged straight for hell –

He squeaks out your name and you smile, sort of grimace, at him and wave.

“Yep, it’s me. Been awhile, right?” You finally give into the mortification of your stupid plan and you scrunch up your face, your hand wrapped around your elbow. “Look, I’m so sorry, this is too weird. I don’t have your number, but I panicked when my flight got canceled and my phone’s dead and you’re the only person I know in LA and –,”

“No, no – you’re fine – sorry–,” Dieter blinks before stepping back and letting you through. You sigh in relief and yank your baby blue suitcase over the threshold as you walk in, dripping water everywhere. “Sorry, it’s been a weird night and for, like, two seconds, I thought . . . nevermind . . .”

I thought you were a fucking ghost.

You bite the corner of your lip, glancing at him, knowing it was probably unwise to piss off your one chance at not sleeping on the ground tonight — or if what you were about to say would piss him off in the first place.

“Yeah, well, it’s been eleven years since we last saw you, Uncle Dee.”

Early on in his career, he wanted to build up rep as not only an actor but a real tough guy, so he asked if he could do some stunts for an old cop show. For all his bravado, he ended up getting a real round-house kick to the face and it sent him reeling.

This feels a little bit like that.

“No way, it can’t have been that long. Besides, I know I left my number with your dad or your grandma before I left and —,”

His throat closes up when very old guilt washes over him. It’s intensified when you give him an uncomfortable look.

“So your dad didn’t give you my number then.”

It’s not a question. You shake your head. You don’t tell him that your dad tried to call years ago and got a busy tone for the first few, and then a few years after that, was brusquely informed the line had been disconnected.

He chews on his lip.

You try to smile at him again but then another shiver takes hold of you and Dieter grimaces. “Shit, sorry, one second. I think this closet down here has towels.”

He all but sprint-walks down one of the many halls branching off from the entrance, the ends of his robes flapping. You hear the creak of doors, several, as he digs around in the walls.

“Why do I have so many fucking linens?” You hear him grumble and you smile to yourself. You feel like you need to wring your hair out but wouldn’t dare move from the spot where he left you.

After a thump and more grumbling, he comes back, rubbing the back of his head, but holding out a giant lime green towel. In the light, you can see the dark circles under his eyes when you take the towel and immediately go to stop your hair from dripping on the marble.

His brain is waffling, ping ponging, between his memories and what is standing right in front of him. This? This is the little girl, not his literal blood relative, but she’s Enrico’s kid – Enrico, a slugger and one hell of a outfielder since he was eight years old, whose mom made enchiladas like nobody else in the goddamn world – Enrico, whose house became like a second home, Ricky's family a better family than his own – this is the same girl who hoarded Skittles like a fiend, the same one who he took to the pool on the weekends in the summer, and the zoo during Thanksgiving break? This little girl –

– is the same girl who is all legs under damp denim, eyes that could make Cleopatra fly into a jealous rage, and a fucking rockstar smile?

And, holy shit, those tits –

Dude, you cannot be checking her out. Dig deep and fight your fucking caveman brain. You’ve fucked up a lot in your life and you cannot do that right now. You cannot do that to Enrico.

You cannot do that to her.

You notice him grimace as he squints into the light of the chandelier above you both. “So, uh, not that I mind, but, uh, what are you doing here? I mean –,”

You laugh and it seems to echo in the empty house. “No, that’s a fair question. I was on a flight back from looking at colleges out east and my flight got grounded in LAX because of the storm. I absolutely don’t have enough money to stay in a hotel or rent a car and drive back home, so I needed a place to crash and call my sister to send me some money. And my stupid driver didn’t want to get flagged for harassing a celebrity, so he dropped me off at the corner, hence . . .”

You wave at yourself and inside his slippers, his toes curl, respectfully not looking at your damp legs and a definitely purple bra visible through your shirt.

Your mouth suddenly capsizes. “Shit, is that okay, if I stay here for a night? I didn’t even think - I - I’m not . . . interrupting anything, am I?”

Dieter chuckles, your expression undeniably cute, and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his robe.

“Nah. Not unless you call making the worst grilled cheese imaginable a party.”

At that moment, your stomach chooses to make the most aggressive growl in your entire life and you flush deeper than the cold outside.

“Apparently someone thinks that’s a good idea,” you chuckle weakly, horrified that your body is actively trying to sabotage a normal conversation.

Did it matter that you had posters of him in your bedroom when you were thirteen? That you went to midnight releases of every one of his movies?

No. Not at all.

“I got some food, mostly leftovers.” He worries at his lip as he realizes the only thing by way of something green in his fridge is the jar of olives he got for martinis. Even then, he has a sneaking suspicion he replaced the olive juice with vodka, but the memory of that night is entirely butchered. “But, uh, I’m sure we can find something.”

You smile at him. “Actually, grilled cheese sounds great.”

“Only if you do it.” He smiles, honestly, when you laugh. “What? Don’t laugh — I’m serious. I can’t make a sandwich to save my fucking life.”

“Pretty sure I can manage two slices of bread and cheese.”

His eyebrows jump as his lips press themselves together and you watch the thumb-sized bare spot on his beard twitch.

“Yeah, that’s what you think and then your goddamn kitchen is on fire.”

“Lemme change, do some rocket surgery and brain science, and then I’ll attempt to crack this grilled cheese thing.”

“Okay, but remember we do have Chinese leftovers and I can definitely crush a microwave. This way.”

You follow him through the halls, his shoulders loosening underneath the off-green fuzz, and you try and not to stare at the immaculately beautiful walls and expansive, clean floors, so your eyes wander, and then you’re trying not to stare at the immaculately beautiful man in front of you.

You push away the thought that this house looks nothing like you’d expect someone like Dieter to have, as he leads you to the kitchen — all black and chrome and steel, like what a Norwegian serial killer would have — and nods to a door towards the opposite wall. He’s digging around for the last slices of white bread when he says,

“Bathroom’s down there. I’ll get it all ready, but I’m leaving it up to you. Can’t afford to lose another pan.”

Your eyes finally drift down from the bare walls, unsure if you should be offended that nothing of the family back home is here, or accept that there was just nothing personal anywhere. You smile gently at him and nod in thanks.

He watches you go, that bright blue suitcase flashing as loud as a tornado siren, and he shakes his head. God, he needs a drink but drinking also makes him horny and he needs every mental facility available to him if he wis going to make it through this night with his sanity still intact.

Had it really been eleven years? He always meant to call up Enrico and the old neighborhood gang. He probably forgot about that last fight anyway – even if Dieter hadn’t – even if it wasn’t more than a decade ago. Mama Gonzales always said there’d be a place for him, even after his own father said acting was for maricos and drag queens. It always hurt more when the postcards from the Gonzales family stopped coming than when Mom stopped calling. And he always meant to send back a proper return address when he moved out of that crappy loft after his first real movie premiere but that was the 90s, and much of the 90s was spent between working shit jobs and drooling on the floors of rave warehouses. It wasn’t them specifically he didn’t want to see him like that, but anyone. Anyone who knew him before Dieter Bravo.

Certainly not anyone who called him Uncle Dee —

Something flashes in the corner of his eye and he realizes he’s always fucking hated the fact that the a) the back of his house is just one big window and b) he never bothered to put in curtains. Because, the thing with windows is they reflect things — things like his pseudo-niece taking her top off in his guest bathroom. Reflected and in full color right across his kitchen island like the sexiest hologram that will haunt his fucking wet dreams until the day hell freezes over.

Yep, that’s definitely your hips, your ribs, and okay—

Nope. Absolutely not.

Dieter’s knees give out and he crouches (more like slumps) to the floor behind the island, his palms so far in his eye sockets he can only see stars.

Yeah, only stars. Focus on the stars, not the image of the curve of your gorgeous tits that’s running around his brain like a child with scissors and a Thanatos instinct off the fucking charts.

Fuck, and he just wanted to get high and watch Nicholas Cage in a mullet.

“Hey, I’m done. Dee, you still here?”

He stifles a groan and stands up. You smile at him, the wet jeans and agonizing white tank top gone, only to be replaced by a black Fleetwood Mac tshirt and — fuck, where are your pants?

You lower the handle to your suitcase and go to stow by the bathroom door. And that’s when he realizes you are actually wearing pants, black shorts that are practically hidden by the oversized t-shirt and are comically, hilariously, painfully small. He can’t actually see the curve of your ass as you walk around the side of the island but he is absolutely not going to let his gaze linger long enough to confirm.

He clears his throat as you come to stand beside him. He gestures to the four pieces of white bread and a stack of Crafts American cheese.

“H-h-have —,” he clears his throat again and his forebearers groan collectively in embarrassment. “Have at it.”

You smile and tuck your hair over your ear before picking up the knife.

“D’you have mayonnaise? Butter?”

No amount of irredeemable hotness can distract him from that. “What? What do you need mayonnaise for? It’s grilled cheese.”

You cluck your tongue, an eyebrow raised. “Brain science and rocket surgery, remember? Don’t question the master.”

He can’t help but chuckle as he goes to his steel monolith of a fridge.

“Jeez, sorry, I asked,” he grumbles playfully.

He comes back with an (thankfully) unexpired jar and tub of butter and you get to work. Silence stretches a bit too long, something Dieter has never been good with, especially with beautiful women. He loves running his mouth and sometimes he's found that the women liked it too. He resigns himself to sit across from you at the island, watching you spread mayonnaise on both sides of the bread.

“So, uh, how are the folks? How’s your, uh, dad?”

You nod slowly and even though he hasn’t been around in eleven years to pick up on all your tells, he swears your hackles go up.

“Fine. All good. Dad’s still at the car repair shop — owns it now, actually. Makes decent money, I guess.”

“You guess?” He hadn’t made it his life’s work to mimic the human condition to not recognize cagey language.

You glance at him briefly before flipping over the last piece of bread and dropping a dollop of mayonnaise on top.

“Yeah. I — uh, we haven’t — I actually haven’t talked to them in a while. Though if I had, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.” You sneak another glance, this one ladened with a smile that had a secret curled up in its corners. “Serves me right, probably.”

“Yeah. Probably.”

He can’t help but return the smile, one of a familiarity he hasn’t earned yet. You were smiling at him as if you two had years of secrets together, memories and inside jokes that were for the pair of you alone. For the life of him and all the water in his ridiculous pool, he couldn’t fathom why you were being so nice to him. Letting him off the hook. It had been eleven fucking years after all. There are a lot of things he takes guilt free from the world. Your fucking star-eyed smile is not one of them.

So, he lets you off the hook. He doesn’t push it. If you don’t want to talk about your folks, he is happy to chatter aimlessly about something else. But, his brain winds up, what happened that caused you to fall out with your parents? Enrico, even back then, had been a hard ass, with you and your brothers. Always made sure to walk the straight and narrow. Detested drugs, always shined his shoes, thought tattoos were the devil, never kissed a girl on the first date —

And here you are, making fucking mooneyes at his daughter.

Well, one thing was for sure, he muses, something warm spreading in his gut, you are nothing like your daddy.

The hiss of the bread hitting the hot butter in a pan (you didn’t even need to ask where another pan was, you just helped yourself to his cabinets and he couldn’t have been more proud) jerks him out of his daze and he realizes that annoying silence has set in again.

“So, colleges, huh? Anything in particular spark interest?”

You nod excitedly as he found a topic that made you glow. Clearly, no one had asked about your interests in a long time.

“Yeah, actually. Emerson in Boston was amazing. I loved the city, but not sure I’d survive the winter. Swarthmore sounds good, Amherst too, but again, cold.” You grin sheepishly and flip the sandwiches, pressing the spatula (he didn’t even know he owned one of those) into the bread, making the butter sizzle and the air fill with a smell that can only be described as mouth-watering.

“It’ll be a nightmare, taking out loans for those places, but fuck, I think I’d be really happy there.”

He leans against the counter, facing you with crossed arms. He smiles a smile that he knows doesn’t reach his eyes.

“What, your folks wouldn’t pay for it? Or at least help out?”

Something sharp flashes in your eyes, like a rabbit catching the scent of a predator, before you shrug your shoulders flippantly. A well-worn deflection, he notes, right next to the place where he’s got all the places you mentioned are about as far away from California as possible. If you had mentioned somewhere in Europe, he wouldn’t have been surprised.

“Nah. I wouldn’t let them. Don’t want them thinking they get input into my life because they hold the purse strings over my head.” You turn off the stove and he moves to get the plates out from the cabinets – something to contribute as you made him a better meal than he’s had in ages.

“So, uh, we eat in there?” You glance down the hall to the eerily clean dining room, a place he’s pretty sure he’s never once set foot in after three years of living in this goddamn mansion.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “C’mon, I already have a movie picked out.”

You follow him, plates hot, down carpeted stairs to clearly the only room in the house that Dieter actually lives in. The lights down here are low, much more bearable than the white spotlights of the kitchen. Against one wall, there’s a fully stocked bar, with most of the alcohol halfway empty and costing a fortune. Across from the stairs is a massive record collection, going up to the ceiling, next to a gorgeous old record player — all wood and black vinyl — with big, plushy earphones curled up on a black leather recliner.

But the star of the show is the wall-to-ceiling television, with a brown, mouse-soft leather sofa that wraps like a giddy, up-turned grin in front of it.

And of course, in between the superstar television and the cozy couch, is a low glass table where he had snorted lines of coke more times he could count and where a virgin joint sits, unsmoked and tempting.

Dieter flushes as though he’d been caught by his parents with his pants down around his ankles.

“Fuck, sorry–,” he rushes over, the plate clattering with the glass, and he reaches for the joint, ready to squish it into his pocket when–

You laugh. “Relax, Dee, I know what a joint is. In fact, we are very well acquainted.”

You fold yourself into the couch, legs crossed, grinning at him as you bite into your sandwich.

He swallows, unclenching slightly as he sits down next to you. He watches you eat for a moment, trying to think of something cool to say.

“Sounds like I’ve missed my calling as the fun uncle, getting you high for the first time and all that.”

You snort and swallow your mouthful. “Yeah, by like two fucking years.”

“Oh, what a fucking lifetime. You poor thing,” he says, pouting dramatically and you giggle again, bumping into his shoulder. It sends his sanity knocking around in his brain.

You don’t notice, though, your eyes falling to the joint in the small ceramic bowl. The smile slides from your face.

“Well, you might have missed my first joint, but I’d be more than happy to take this one as my next.”

His eyebrows practically bounce off his forehead. “You’re serious?”

Your eyes slide away from the joint to his, something distractingly dark hiding there. “I mean, if the parties on your Instagram are anything to go by . . . And, well, when in Rome . . .”

You trail off, smirking, gesturing around you as if you had any idea the levels of debauchery that were obtained in this very room. Come to think of it, he halfway considers picking you up off the couch and putting a towel down underneath your perfect ass.

This is how it went sometimes, with the slower hook ups. No wet clothes, or grilled cheese, or bringing up family trauma — but initial touches, curling smiles, and then drugs. Always drugs. As if there needed to be another hand that tore off the cap of the pressurized, fizzy soda bottle. He’d play music then, for them, to show off his vinyl collection and have a plausible reason to rub his dick between their ass cheeks while dancing slowly to something croon-y from the seventies.

Not that any of that would be happening with you.

He wasn’t a complete monster after all.

With a playful grin that he had mastered over many press junkets, he snatches up the joint and lighter, and presents both to you in the flat of his hand.

“First hit goes to you, since you were so kind to make dinner for an old fuck like me.”

You snort and put your plate onto the table, wiping your hands free of crumbs on your black shirt.

“Such a gentleman.”

With deft and practiced hands, you take the joint between your index finger and your thumb, and sparking the lighter, brought the flame to your lips.

Just for one second, one goddamn second, he swears he saw The Look reflected in your eyes. He glances away, his cock fluttering awake like goddamn Lassy hearing the calls of another well-begotten child. He picks up his own plate.

“Hardly. It was all a ploy to get you to admit you follow me on Instagram.”

You burst out coughing, smoke chugging from your nose and mouth. “Dieter!”

He cackles, his tongue between his teeth, as you shove him away from you — do not think about her fingers clenched around your bicep — try to sit up and inhale again. You hang your head and groan.

“Fuck, I can’t believe I said that.”

“Yeah, and for that, I get two puffs,” he says out of the corner of his mouth, the rest of it full of the most perfectly cooked grilled cheese sandwich he’d ever had. He finishes chewing and swallows. “Hand it over, princess.”

You hand over the lighter and the joint, the paper slightly greasy from your fingers, leaning back dramatically into one of the many plushy cup holder seats spread out along the very long couch.

He chuckles devilishly again, far too satisfied, as he lights up and leans back into the cushions.

“And, as gesture of goodwill, I’ll admit that’s a good fucking grilled cheese.”

Your eyes snap open and a wide grin splits your face. “Hell yes! Mayonnaise on both sides, butter on the side with cheese. Best family recipe. Mwah!”

“Fuck, even I know that’s too much cholesterol for me,” he grunts and digs into the cushions, feeling around for the remote.

“Well, that’s not enough cholesterol for me,” you wink as you take the joint from the hand on his thigh, eyes daring you to do something about it. Nowhere near high enough to take the bait, he just narrows his eyes at you as he clicks the button and the entertainment system comes to life with a primordial hum.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, eyes wide, as the speakers roar and the lights dim further and the screen glows, “it’s like I’m in a fucking movie theater . . . in space.”

“It’s great, right?” Dieter moans like a loving father over his first child. This thing is his pride and joy, the only thing he could stomach in this goddamn house.

The DVD buffer for Raising Arizona begins and you squeal quietly, sliding onto your back, the joint dangling between your lips.

“No fucking way, I love this movie.”

Dieter stilled. “Really? You do?”

The few times he felt nostalgic for his old life — his old, old life when he was still a kid from nowhere, a nobody, you couldn’t pick him out of a line up of his sweaty, grubby cousins when they were all cobbled together like crooked teeth in front of Abuela Josefina’s television that still had knobs and bunny ears to watch movie after movie of Nicholas Cage reruns. Even with knees in his back, elbows in his ears, Dieter could quote every single line, his heart swelling.

That’s gonna be me some day.

“This movie is from, like, another century,” he mutters as he watches you settle in, something sickening like adoration clawing up in his chest.

“Yeah and it’s great,” you say eagerly, ignoring the way he plucks the joint out of your fingers. “Put it on!”

He resolutely ignores the pinch in his low stomach at your almost whine and presseS the play button with a little more force than necessary. Then, balancing the joint on the ceramic bowl, he sticks his fingers into his robe, pulls out his glasses, and puts them on without a second thought – just as he always did when watching movies.

It is only when he realizes he doesn’t hear you breathing that he realizes what he has done. Slowly he pulls the square glasses off his face and looks at them, feeling as disgusted as the day his doctor put them in his hands.

Near-sighted. Very common. Happens when people as they age.

“Got ‘em–,” his throat closes again, “got ‘em a few years ago. Only have to wear ‘em to see things up close and, uh . . . Well, I think they make me look old as shit.”

He can’t quite look at you, unsure what he’ll see on your face and knowing for sure that he couldn’t stand it if it wasn’t the way you look at him before. If you just would tease him about it, then —

“No,” you say, your voice very soft and small. His heart nearly punches out his throat, his neck nearly snapping in half as his head whips up to look at you. You sit up on your elbows, the darkness of the room cushioning your soft cheeks and muting the glaze in your eyes as you watch him over the bend of your knees.

“Nah,” you say, your nose scrunching, the weight of the high clearly settling into your skin, “they make you look . . . Uh, they’re cute.”

Dieter sucks in the side of his cheek, nodding slowly and sliding the glasses back over his nose. Cute, he could work with that.

“Jeez, would you start the movie already?” You poke his side with your toe. He doesn’t need to look at you to hear the faint blush in your voice.

He turns the volume up and crosses his arms, smiling faintly. You’re warm next to him, he thinks vaguely, his own high finally starting to sink into his bones.

Cute. Definitely not a word he’s going to obsess over.

The movie goes on.

Nicholas Cage is Nicholas Cage with a mullet.

Your laugh is the clattering of bells in his ears and he can’t remember the last time he laughed so hard his sides hurt.

He’s coming up from bent over, knees almost to his chest, laughter nearly popping his ribs, when he realizes your feet are in his lap. The arches of your soles, the delicate bones of your ankles, the long smooth planes that run up to your gorgeous calves—

They are there, in his lap, and you don’t seem to mind. Head turned towards the screen, face bright from laughing, your arm arched back over your head, pressing your chest up — it’s like you meant for them to be there.

It’s just one hand, right? Two at the most. Just putting his hands down where he had them a moment ago. Up and — down.

You don't flinch. His palm is on the arched top of your foot, the other just above your other ankle.

You do smile, but that might have been because of Nicholas Cage raging again.

And then, during another bout of giggles, he clutches your shin bone, wraps his fingers around your heel, and laughs and laughs and laughs.

You wipe the tears away from your eyes, the end credits rolling.

“Fuck, that’s a such a good movie.”

He swallows, swiping quickly under his glasses before taking them off and chucking them onto the table in front.

“You’re fucking right it is,” he says hoarsely, leaning forward and plucking up the last of the joint. He inhales, letting the smoke ease stifle the tears in the corner of his eyes, gulping down a breath before offering it to you.

You take it, distracted, eyes on the credits, the light from the screen glowing on your cheeks.

He presses up under your ankle with his middle finger. “What? You knew what was gonna happen, you’d said you’d seen it before.”

You nodded, still not looking at him.

He goes for a more direct approach. He pinches your calf, and you scowl, the light back in your eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, a bit sharply. He’s not nearly done having fun with you, not nearly. You take another sip of smoke before setting the joint back on the table.

You huff, settling onto your back, pinching at your nails.

“Just . . . Nothing, it’s stupid.”

Dieter hums. He knows when to let him come to you. He taps the arch of your foot.

“How are you feeling?” His gaze nudges the joint on the table.

You grin. “Really good. Tingly. Warm. Like everything else is a million miles away.”

Just the two of us.

“Enough to tell ol’ Uncle Dee what’s on your mind?”

You roll your eyes and sit up a bit, yanking a pillow behind you.

“Just thinkin’ about the old days, I guess.” You glance up at him from under your eyes. “Not in a bad way. At all. I just . . .”

“What?” If you gave him hell for the last eleven years, then fuck it, he deserved it. He pulls at your ankle. “What?”

With a big sigh, you lean back, something finally breaking and, with it, comes a great big smile.

“Okay, remember when you’d put on those plays with the rest of us kids during those super lame family reunions o-o-or Christmas? Marissa would have everything written out, all the cousins cast and you’d beg her to let you play – fucking – Bear Number 5 or something ridiculous – and she’d fight you on it but she’d relent, always putting on a show of her own – as if a ten year old could be put out like that.” You giggled, biting on your thumb, a sparkling in your eyes that made something in his chest burn.

Yes, he remembers the incredibly stupid fuzzy ears and the bear claw mittens. The fake roaring. TMZ would have a fucking stroke if those pictures of him, baby-faced, were to ever surface online. He smiles at you and basks in the warmth of those memories, his high making them brighter.

“I think it would have crushed her little heart if you didn’t ask,” you said, heavy-lidded eyes on you again. “I know it broke her when you stopped showing up at all.”

His heart actually pinches at that. He knows you’re not scolding him but fuck, maybe he’d feel better if you did. What a fucking idiot he was, for leaving all of that for empty mansions and meals from UberEats and all this fucking gunked up shit in his veins that made him feel older and older every year. Like he was chasing something that was never real in the first place.

“Look, honey,” the pet name is out of his mouth before he can stop it. He’s twisting towards you, both hands under your calves now. “I should have called. Should have made sure that at least you knew where to find me, even if things between your dad and I were fucked.”

“Oh, God, Dee, no. I don’t blame you. I don’t even blame my dad, sometimes. You just were very different people. He’s fine living his life in the same small ass town in the middle of nowhere. But you weren’t. And, fuck . . . I’m not either.”

He frowns. You bite your lip and continue.

“You know, I thought about following you out to Hollywood. Because of those plays. I had the best fucking time doing them and Hollywood didn’t seem so scary . . . with Uncle Dee out here. But, uh, I dunno. I grew up, I guess. Figured I was better at telling stories than performing them. I just knew I didn’t want to end up like my dad. Dying where I lived. Unremembered.”

His gut doubles in on itself. Please don’t say you gave up your dreams because I stopped calling.

“Do you still think about acting?” He asks quietly, trying to fight the faint ringing in his ears.

“Oh God, no,” you wave your hands, dusting away his near-panic that he’d somehow ruined your life. “I really do prefer writing stories, even if they exist only within the pages of a book. Or a really bad pamphlet, once or twice. I tried to continue the plays at home for a few years, after you left and Marissa took up cheerleading and thought she was too old to play with her little cousins anymore. But it just wasn’t the same without her. Or you.”

He realizes all too late that he can feel your pulse under your ankle. Strong. Pounding. Pounding, hard. Like you’re nervous. So struck by the notion that he can feel something so personal of yours, the smoke trapped in his brain lifts only slightly when he catches your eyes looking somewhere you absolutely should not be.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck, he knows that look. You blink at him, then your gaze slowly slides down, down to his crotch, as smoothly you can beneath the weight of the smoke in your brain and he battles between the desire to throw your legs off him or pull you underneath him.

It’s The Look.

Men, women, it didn’t matter. The look was the same.

When the possibility of sex first enters their mind, when that first bloom of lust rushes down their spine and the memory of the physical exertion of fucking – all the panting and the heavy breathing, aching muscles and sweat – comes back, as real as a song stuck in your head. When that spark of imagination threatens to sway from the hypothetical to the actual, it’s a look he knows so fucking well, he might as well be able to carve it from clay, blind-folded.

And you’re giving it to him, right now.

You haven’t really thought about seducing him yet, no, that part hasn’t crossed your mind yet. But you definitely are imagining what his cock would feel like inside you, and you and your imagination and your wide-eyed gaze at his lap all whole-heartedly agreed: that would be a great fucking thing.

You, on your elbows, your heel dangerously close to his half-hard cock, the glaze in your eyes having something to do with what you were so shamelessly picturing, and your short breath having everything to do with what you were so shamelessly picturing.

He was quite sure you were completely unaware of the expression your face was making. Eyes hooded, mouth parted, breath short. Masking your emotions and filthy thoughts is a skill set mastered later in life and perhaps the last time you looked at someone like that, they simply bent you over the nearest surface and railed you till your knees buckled.

What a fucking excellent idea, his libido trilled. Now get off the couch and do something about it. I’m foaming at the fucking mouth here, man.

Dieter silences his inner horny monster, unintentionally squeezing his hand, the one that happens to be wrapped around your calf.

The movement seems to break you out of your dizzying spiral and you blink up at him.

He swallows. With a half smirk on the edge of your lips that you try to not let him see, you take your feet out of his lap, then reach forward, your palm alarmingly high on his thigh as you take the joint from his fingers. Your eyes flash like warning signs.

DANGER. DANGER, WILL ROBINSON. DANGER.

“So, you gonna give me a tour of this place or what?”

End of Part 1 | Next

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #the bubble fanfic #the bubble 2016 #the bubble fic #the bubble fanfiction

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apeekintothepantry · 7 months

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Happy Pokémon Day! February 27th is the anniversary of the first two Pokémon games’ release in Japan, and it’s a minor holiday in my house, as a fun excuse to make Pokémon inspired food, watch some Pokémon shows or movies (we’re going to watch Netflix’s new Pokémon Concierge this year!), and get excited about upcoming games and releases. This year, we’re making a Pokémon Sword and Shield inspired burger-steak curry and I’m making a dessert from the Pokémon Cookbook by Victoria Rosenthal. It’s one of my favorite fandom cookbooks – all the recipes are vegetarian or vegan, to get around the awkward question of where does the meat in the Pokémon universe come from?

But that’s not all we’re making! Ever since Nicki and Isabel were released, I’ve been dying to do a post about them and Pokémon’s infamous “Jelly Filled Doughnuts”, better – and more accurately! – known as onigiri.

Pokémon was released in the United States in 1998 via two Gameboy games: Pokémon Red and Pokémon Blue. The games quickly caught on to be one of the biggest pop culture phenomenon of the late 90’s and early 00’s, and as a kid at the heart of this explosion, I can’t overstate how much of a big deal it was. One of the great things about Pokémon – and probably why it has such lasting, widespread appeal – is that there are so many ways to interact with the franchise, and the marketing doesn’t skew hugely towards one gender or the other. Cool, tough Pokémon like Charizard got pretty similar billing to cute, pink Pokémon like Jigglypuff, and there were so many options for potential favorites that it was easy for any kid to find some creature to attach themselves to.

One of my petty complaints with Nicki and Isabel’s collection and books is the almost complete lack of mention of Pokémon and other anime that was really popular among kids in 1999. I know AG probably didn’t want to shell out for licensing deals with Nintendo or The Pokémon Company, but their stories just don’t feel accurate without discussing their prized binder of Pokémon cards or begging their parents to take them to see the Pokémon movie in theaters. Maybe the authors were just a little too old to get caught up in Pokémania?

I’ve also always thought its close overlap with the Beanie Babies crazy helped get millennial children like me very into the “gotta catch ‘em all” aspect of the franchise. Is this why I’m such a crazy toy collector as an adult? Who knows.

The Pokémon anime was one of the main ways kids like me got hooked on the franchise, because not everyone was allowed to have a Gameboy of their own (me), and not everyone liked video games, but even if you didn’t like video games, the cartoon might appeal to you. Although it was far from the first Japanese cartoon to air on US television, Pokémon was one of if not the first truly mainstream favorites of the 1990’s. 4Kids, the company in charge of dubbing the show into English, decided that American kids wouldn’t understand or be open to certain aspects of the show that reflected its Japanese roots, and so made a lot of strange choices in rewriting the script. One of the most notorious was deciding Brock’s rice balls were actually jelly filled doughnuts:

Onigiri – also known as omusubi or nigirimeshi – are balls of rice with a variety of fillings inside. They’re often compared to sandwiches, as an easy, quick, cheap meal or snack that combines carbs and other ingredients. While the concept of taking a rice ball and stuffing it full of other tasty treats goes way back to ancient Japan, the triangle shape became popular in the 1980’s thanks to a new machine that automated the filling process. Further developments over the last 40 years have created unique ways to prepackage onigiri without making the nori wrapping sticky. The ones we made were an attempt at recreating the “Hawaiian” (spam and pineapple) rice balls from our favorite food hall back in DC. One of my favorite pandemic indulgences was getting take out from the food hall, which often included a sampler of some of my favorite onigiri, and I haven’t been able to find anything close to similar where we are now. One of the many reasons I’m excited to move!

Even as a kid, I wasn’t convinced the food in the anime was fried dough with fruit jelly inside, because they sure look like rice. I also think 4Kids didn’t anticipate that Pokémon’s widespread popularity would inspire many of its fans – including me – to become absolutely obsessed with Japanese food and culture. I would’ve been more excited if they’d just been straight with me and shown more Japanese food on the show, and then probably begged my parents to make it or take me to a restaurant that made it. While I can’t confidently cite numbers of how many other people were first exposed to Japanese culture and food through Pokémon and franchises like it, I do think it’s a bit of a missed opportunity to highlight how things like this exposed kids like Nicki and Isabel to parts of a culture outside their own!

#ag doll #ag dolls #agblr #american girl doll #american girl #nicki hoffman #isabel hoffman #food history

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the-smut-analyst · 10 months

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A defence of the Good Guy / Bad Boy love triangle

It is no secret that mainstream YA & NA fantasy gravitates towards an angsty love triangle. But is this trope's popularity due to vapid teenage vanity... or something far deeper?

Warning: in this post, I will be referencing: True Blood/The Southern Vampire Mysteries, Legendborn, A Court of Thorns and Roses, The Shadow and Bone Trilogy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Hunger Games, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, and The Vampire Diaries. Some minor spoilers, mostly relating to the romance side of things, may be involved.

I have stumbled across a bunch of articles lately analysing why love triangles are popular in YA and NA fiction - and all of them, in my opinion, missed the entire point.

Firstly, they focus entirely on the "love interests", while wilfully ignoring the fact that the romance element is often a subset of these stories, rather than the main focus (more on that later).

Secondly, these articles often attribute the appeal of the love triangle to "teenage vanity". They either directly state or imply that young women are drawn to the idea of "provoking" two men into a fight for their affection.

Look, I get it.

Or at least I get how a middle-aged man tap-tap-tapping away on his computer might draw that conclusion. Especially if the crux of his knowledge regarding female-centred fantasy rests on blog posts ripping apart Twilight.

But regardless, the fact remains that labelling YA love triangles as a conceited sexual fantasy is a gross over-simplification. Why? Because romance is rarely the point of the story. Instead, the love triangle is a vehicle through which the author complements and elevates the standard Hero's Journey plot beats.

To demonstrate this argument, I will go through each of the critical plot beats in the Hero's Journey. For each beat, I will demonstrate (with examples) how dual love interests can underscore the character development of the protagonist and highlight her emotional struggles during each stage.

The outline for this analysis will be as follows:

Introduction of the Female Protagonist / Refusal of the Call

Meet the Good Guy / Meeting the Mentor

Meet the Bad Boy / Tests, Allies, and Enemies

Death of Innocence / The Ordeal in the Abyss

Heartbreak / "Death" of the Mentor

Grief for Lost Innocence / Refusal of the Return

Self-Discovery / The Road Back Home

Female Protagonist Accepts Her New Self / Master of Two Worlds

For reference, here is a rough outline of the major plot beats in the Hero's Journey:

Alright. Time to rip apart some assumptions.

Let's go!

Introduction of the Female Protagonist

Refusal of the Call

Mainstream fantasy love triangles almost always centre a female protagonist hence why people love to hate on them. The introduction of this protagonist generally follows your fairly standard Hero's Journey opening.

We meet the protagonist, usually a teenager or young woman, going about their "everyday life" in the ordinary world.

But then the Call to Adventure comes - sometimes referred to as the Inciting incident. For Feyre (ACOTAR), this moment is when she kills a wolf who turns out to be Fae. Or for Katniss (HG), her sister's name is drawn, prompting her to offer herself as a tribute instead.

The Call to Adventure or Inciting Incident marks a point of no return - even though the protagonist might not realise it at the time. It is the moment when life as they know it ends. Afterwards, nothing will ever be the same, including the protagonist.

The following beat is usually the Refusal of the Call, where the protagonist resists any change coming their way. Buffy (BTVS), for example, wants to continue her life as a regular teenage girl instead of being burdened by the duties of being the Slayer. Similarly, Sabrina (TCAOS) is hesitant to participate in the dark baptism, scared of its implications for her ties to the mortal world.

But for the plot to move forward, something or someone needs to prompt the protagonist to leave the "ordinary" world behind - and in turn, take those first few tentative steps into the "special" world (unknown).

Enter...

Meeting the Good Guy

Meeting the Mentor

The Mentor doesn't always have to be an Obi-Wan-style character who teaches the protagonist everything they know about lightsabers. In its simplest form, the Mentor archetype is a guide. Someone who takes the protagonist by the hand, either literally or metaphorically, and leads them from the ordinary world into the special one.

This transition is known as Crossing the Threshold and it is the beat that marks the shift from Act I to Act II.

Now, there is a good reason why the Meeting the Mentor plot beat often serves as a precursor to Crossing the Threshold. And no, it isn't because the protagonist is incapable of doing anything by themselves.

Instead, the Mentor character is often employed to explain how this new world works to both the protagonist and the reader alike.

Through the protagonist interacting with a "guide", the rules and systems of the new world can be revealed through dialogue and action, rather than excessive exposition and info-dumping.

And this is where the "good guy" as a Mentor character stand-in comes into play. His arrival serves the dual purpose of propelling the protagonist into the Crossing the Threshold beat and guiding her once she does.

For example, Sookie's budding romance with Bill is what introduces her (and us) to the Charlene Harris's world of vampires in True Blood. Or, in Tamlin's case, he takes his role in "helping" Feyre to cross the threshold quite literally and abducts her, forcing her to leave the human world behind in place of the world of Fae.

Now, there are quite a few exceptions to this good guy/mentor rule and they generally occur when the good guy is a childhood friend or sweetheart. Examples include Harvey (TCAOS), Gale (HG), and Malyen (SAB).

When this happens, the good guy often provides the protagonist with a much-needed link to her previous life and/or the ordinary world. He takes on more of a "grounding" role, rather than a guiding one.

But regardless, what these good guys have in common is a fairly standard set of traits. They are protective, have a strong moral compass, and are incredibly loyal to the protagonist.

Furthermore, they are almost always the protagonist's "first love". They offer her the emotional support she needs in order to move forward by making her feel less alone in the world.

Regardless of whether the good guy is a childhood friend or a mentor-like character, his relationship with the protagonist usually marks a time of both innocence and self-discovery. He is a source of love and companionship while the protagonist takes those first few tentative steps into the unknown.

Meeting the Bad Boy

Tests, Allies, and Enemies

The Hero's Journey is, at its essence, a Bildungsroman-like story. Or at least it is in the YA/NA genres. It is a coming-of-age tale, with Crossing the Threshold being a symbol for leaving the child behind in order to discover the adult that awaits.

What follows is a collection of plot beats known as Tests, Allies, and Enemies. This stage of the story is often fraught with missteps and small triumphs, good times and bad times - much the same as adolescence.

And this is where the bad boy comes in.

Sometimes the bad boy manifests as an enemy who the protagonist must face in some kind of test like Spike to Buffy. Other times, he presents as a Temptation beat, like the Darkling does to Alina (SAB), trying to lure the protagonist away from their path.

But regardless of how he makes his entrance, the initial purpose of the bad boy is almost always to bring the protagonist face-to-face with the dangers of this new world.

For example, through Eric, Sookie realises that not all vampires are polite and restrained like Bill. Similarly, Feyre's first encounters with Rhysand show her an even darker side to the Fae.

Even bad boys who are not outright evil still tend to behave in a way that the protagonist finds confronting, like Peeta (HG), whose ruthlessly practical survival tactics disturb the very moral Katniss.

In this sense, the bad boy fashions himself into a symbol of the harsh realities of adulthood. Much as a child might find their first encounter with the cruelty of the world shocking, the protagonist is shocked and appalled by the bad boy.

We're not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.

However, it is important to note that the bad boy is usually just one component of the beats involved in the Tests, Allies, and Enemies section. Again, this ties in with my argument that these stories are a Hero's Journey first - with the love triangle simply underscoring that fact.

The friendships that Buffy forms with Willow and Xander are shown to be her two most enduring relationships, while her love interests come and go. In Legendborn, Bree's quest to learn the truth about her mother's death has nothing to do with romance at all. And Sabrina's rivalry-to-friendship arc with Prudence gets significant screen time across multiple episodes and seasons.

During the Tests, Allies, and Enemies stage, the protagonist is usually starting to come into her own. She faces challenges, forms friendships, and encounters enemies. And yes, with love triangles there's usually some lust and romance thrown in there, too.

But the main focus of this stage is that the protagonist is starting to learn who she is. She is becoming more and more powerful with each setback and triumph.

The Death of Innocence

The Ordeal in the Abyss

The Ordeal into the Abyss, also known as The Belly of the Whale, is a plot beat where the protagonist encounters their greatest test thus far.

Rather than this beat being the climax of the story, The Ordeal is generally a challenge that the protagonist must face before the final confrontation or battle - and they must do so alone. It sees them hitting rock bottom and coming face-to-face with their greatest fear, whatever that may be.

This plot beat is a transformative one. It forever changes the protagonist and readies them for the final battle ahead. It is a death of innocence. The moment when the "girl" becomes the "woman", so to speak.

And in this sense, The Ordeal in the Abyss comes with loss and gain in equal measure. Yes, the protagonist is stronger for the experience, but not without cost.

To get to this point, she has been to hell and back. Sometimes literally (cough, cough. Sabrina). The protagonist is now well acquainted with the darkness of this new world but, in order to survive it, she has to absorb some of that darkness into herself.

If you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes into you.

The aftermath of The Ordeal usually sees the protagonist having conflicting feelings over what she has discovered about herself.

On the one hand, she might relish her newfound power and strength. But on the other hand, she may also be afraid of who she had to become in order to emerge triumphant.

Heartbreak

"Death" of the Mentor

The Death of the Mentor isn't always a literal death, but rather, it is a plot beat that forces the protagonist to stand on their own two feet.

By losing the mentor, the protagonist's safety net is ripped out from underneath them. It places them in a "sink or swim" situation that is critical to their growth as a character.

This is why the relationship with the good guy must either falter or end at some point, even if only temporarily. Their breakup serves as a stand-in for the Death of the Mentor plot beat.

Because despite romance featuring heavily in these stories, there is still an inherent idea within them that there are certain steps in a woman's coming-of-age that she must take alone.

The cause of this breakup is almost always due to the transformation that the protagonist underwent during The Ordeal. The good guy no longer understands her, even though he may want to.

For example, Feyre's experience Under the Mountain sees her outgrow her coddled life with Tamlin. Similarly, when Katniss returns to 12, Gale can't fully comprehend what she went through, nor the role she is being forced to play as a result.

Grief for Lost Innocence

Refusal of the Return

The combination of The Ordeal and the Death of the Mentor take their emotional toll on the protagonist. She mourns for the girl she once was, the loss of her first love, and the ordinary world that is now a stranger to her.

What follows is a low point called The Refusal of the Return. Sometimes this beat sees the protagonist running away from her problems, as Buffy does when she flees Sunnydale after killing Angel.

Other times, The Refusal of the Return is a period of rebellion. Grief manifests itself into rage and the protagonist leans more heavily into that darker side of themselves that they discovered during The Ordeal. Like when Elena turns off her humanity following the loss of her brother.

It is usually during this stage that the bad boy begins to take on a more prominent role. (Welcome back to the plot, bad boys!)

At some point, either during this beat or perhaps earlier, we see a different side to the bad boy. Most often, this occurs when the bad boy shows the protagonist some kind of vulnerability, leading her to second guess her first impression.

In the Darkling's case, Alina recognises his profound loneliness. Sookie witnesses Eric's grief at the loss of his maker, Godric. And Rhysand confides in Feyre about the horrors he endured at the hands of Amarantha.

However, seeing this "other" side isn't just a plot device to justify the protagonist's developing feelings for the bad boy. But rather, it serves as a mechanism through which the protagonist's assumptions and beliefs are thrown into question. Not just about the bad boy, but about the world in general.

Disrupting the protagonist's foundations is essential to nearly all emotionally-driven storytelling. Through shattering the her beliefs - whether it be in a system or person - the narrative is propelled forward as the protagonist is then forced into come to her own conclusions.

And this - THIS! - is where the "good guy / bad boy dynamic" becomes so much more than just a blatant over-simplification of male archetypes pandering to female sexual fantasy.

The dichotomy of "good" and "bad" expands here to represent larger choices that the protagonist has to make. Comfort or danger? Honour or Power? Altruism or ambition?

Furthermore, the protagonist's conflicting feelings about the two love interests underscores the very real push-and-pull we all feel during adolescence. Where we crave the adventure and independence of adulthood while simultaneously mourning the safety and protection of childhood.

And this is why the good guy / bad boy love triangle can be such a great plot device. It's not only fun to read (when done well) but it makes sense that the protagonist might find herself drawn to someone whose darkness matches her own.

Who the bad boy is - and what he has done - creates a safe space for the protagonist to explore this darker side of herself. To rebel. To fall apart. To be selfish for once, instead of selfless.

At a time when others in the protagonist's life, like the good guy or her friends, my judge or simply not understand her, the bad boy offers a reprieve. But whether this reprieve positively or negatively influences the protagonist tends to vary from story to story.

Sometimes he is the one who encourages her Refusal of the Return, as the Darkling does for Alina. Other times, the bad boy helps the protagonist in returning to her path, rather than luring her away from it, by offering her his understanding.

Peeta gets what Katniss is going through in a way Gale never can because he went through it, too. Similarly, Stefan can't provide Elena with the reassurance she needs after becoming a vampire because he has never come to terms with his own loss of humanity - therefore, enter Damon.

Self-Discovery

The Road Back Home

The Road Back Home sees the protagonist emerging from her Refusal of the Return. It is when she embarks on the journey to fully reconcile the girl she once was with the woman she has become. To do this, she needs to confront her trauma from The Ordeal and forgive herself for whatever darkness it might have awakened.

This is usually a gradual process that takes place over many chapters or episodes. In many ways, it is a mirror to the Crossing the Threshold beat. Except this time around, the protagonist is looking inwards not outward - instead of discovering the new world, she is discovering herself.

During this time, the bad boy's relationship with the protagonist is often explored more deeply. Being loved by the bad boy - darkness and all - is usually a precursor to the protagonist beginning to accept this darker side of herself, too.

But a distinction needs to be made here between "accept" and "embrace". The former does not necessitate the latter, and whether or not the bad boy gets his own redemption arc usually serves as the distinction between the two.

In the Darkling's case, he certainly helps Alina to come into her power, but ultimately, Alina rejects the path that he is trying to lead her down. The Darkling might have helped her to accept her darkness, but she does not fully embrace it the way he does.

Other times, when the bad boy gets his own redemption arc, we see a precursor to self-love through their relationship. Because in pursuing her feelings for the bad boy, the protagonist has to reconcile the fact that people are nuanced, and no one is entirely good nor evil. In forgiving the bad boy for his past wrongdoings, the protagonist sees that it is possible to forgive herself, too. Damon and Elena's arc (in the TV adaptation) is a good example of this.

But regardless of where things may or may not go with the bad boy, the next plot beat has nothing to do with romance at all. Now, the protagonist is ready for the final battle.

The Female Protagonist Accepts Herself

Master of Two Worlds

Everything the protagonist has been through has been leading her to this moment. Her triumphs, her defeats. Her discoveries and lessons. Her friends and mentors and lovers.

She's faced evil, maybe even embraced a little of it, and come out stronger and better for the experience. She has finished mourning the child she once was and accepted the woman she has become.

Now she is ready, as a master of both worlds, to face whatever comes next. And we, as readers, now get to enjoy the final battle!

Basically, the protagonist is a certified badass now - and she's going to win.

Now, where the romance goes during or after this plot beat is very, very varied. Sometimes, the protagonist stays with the bad boy, like Feyre does with Rhysand. Other times, the relationship is temporary, like Eric and Sookie. Or, in the case of Buffy, neither the good guy nor the bad boy remains in the picture. In fact, a very deliberate choice was made with her story to avoid an "end-game" romantic pairing.

And the reason why the romance is pretty damn varied is because, well, it doesn't really matter. The romance is the cherry on top of the story, not the whole damn cake.

Conclusion

I understand that love triangles might not be everyone's cup of tea - and that's okay. But to paint the entire trope under the broad strokes of teenage vanity and wish fulfilment is to do it a disservice.

Because for the most part, it isn't just some vapid romance. A lot of the most popular stories within the genre are actually complex YA fantasies in and of their own right, driven by your standard emotionally-driven, coming of age beats. They just happen to feature a female protagonist who falls in love.

Okay, maybe in this example she falls in love a few times. But so what? Getting your heart broken and mended again is a part of growing up, so why shouldn't it have a place in YA/NA fiction?

If young men are allowed to froth over some guy getting bitten by radioactive a spider and getting superpowers, then we can have two sexy vampires pining over the same girl.

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seriousbrat · 5 months

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im asking this because you made a james one but can you make a jily meta if you have time🙈🙈

Anon I'm sorry for the delay in replying, I was thinking it through!! But it's nice to have something positive to talk about haha.

The loves of my life tbh. I really really like jily even though I think my snapeishness means I'm not as involved in mainstream jily fandom. I mean enemies to lovers always has its appeal and to me james and lily are a realistic, imperfect- but all the more compelling for it- appealing dynamic.

Obviously we don't get to see a lot of their actual relationship in canon, but I think that's why it's so fun to fill in the blanks. Personally I think it's pretty normal that they were drawn to each other and ended up in a relationship from what we know- they're both pretty big personalities, intelligent and charming and brave, they have similar goals and beliefs about the world, there was attraction early on (obviously in james's case, more or less confirmed by jkr in lily's- and b4 anyone starts in on lily for being attracted to him that's not something one can control, and she probs wasn't aware anyway).

Lily basically hated his guts, with good reason, so to go from that to dating there had to be a pretty big shift in both james and in their relationship (and likely lily too, or that's my belief). Honestly what I think is that in their final years at Hogwarts, the encroaching war brought on this new seriousness, and as lines were more clearly drawn in the sand it became obvious that lily and the marauders were on the same side of it. Things like sports, popularity, rivalries cease to matter in the face of a life-or-death conflict, you're forced to grow up and deal with it, and while for Severus this brought out the worst in him, for James it brought out the best.

People talk about James changing but I think a post SWM-lily was also changing. She set a very clear boundary with Sev and I think that was an important character development moment for her. Again, the war was on the horizon, their priorities were becoming clear, and I see Lily as becoming more sure of herself and her beliefs, less tolerant of bullshit from those around her. James was becoming more circumspect, more open-minded, more responsible, so when lily and the marauders were thrown together in natural alliance the two of them were just at a point where they were compatible.

I don't think their relationship was perfect and idyllic and all that, that would be less interesting anyway. It was probably hard sometimes. One thing I love when fics explore is the class differences between James and Lily; not only is he pureblood while she's muggleborn, but he comes from wealth where she comes from a humble little working-class family in the mids. There was probably a lot of stuff James didn't understand about her life; I feel like he probably tried his best anyway. Lily probably felt intimidated or defensive about her own background at times.

I don't doubt that they argued; in fact they got off on it probably enjoyed arguing with each other, given their personalities. Both of them were intelligent, opinionated, had an arguing kink, fiery people. Like I don't think it was this exaggerated screaming match sort of thing but I'm sure they loved a healthy spirited debate which maybe got a little out of hand sometimes.

I have touched on this previously but I see James as deep down pretty insecure (who isnt in this world apart from sirius black) and I think initially he was probably pretty insecure about Lily too. I do see him regretting his previous behaviour and thinking he isn't good enough for her and that he's incredibly lucky to be with her. which is true and he should suffer. but I have an upcoming scene (lily's first time at the potters') where james is like "i feel like i'm not good enough for you" and lily's like "shut up i'm the one who's not good enough for you" and they're like "great. i guess we're not good enough for each other. sorted i guess." My point being James actively tried to be a better man, Lily saw that and admired it. because she's good and wonderful like that.

Idk I guess I see it kind of as a realistic, flawed, but ultimately loving relationship. I'm sure there was a lot of stuff they had to work on over the few years they got :( but I'm also sure they had a lot of fun together because to me they just seem really compatible in so many ways as humans.

My belief is that they got married quickly because of the war (I also believe this about frank and alice, even though i see them as older) but it's likely they would have ended up married anyway, or at least in a long term, healthy, happy relationship.

Also the pottermore entry about Vernon and Petunia is my absolute fave for many reasons (love the vertunia of it all ofc) but also the little snippet about jily is golden. The double date between vertunia and jily is perhaps one of my favourite scenes I've ever written haha it's just such a good moment, basically the only canon info we do get about while they were dating.

#idk if theyre even called vertunia lol. but unironically i love them. the sausage scene is also great #jily #replies #meta #jl #long post #when isnt it a long post though tbh lol

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charcubed · 1 year

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Ted Lasso, the Roy/Keeley/Jamie triangle, and – dare I say it? –television history

No matter your preferred term for the throuple, OT3, or poly relationship on Ted Lasso, it’s worth appreciating.

The more I think about it, the more I believe that the creative team behind Ted Lasso is doing something with RoyKeeleyJamie that doesn’t exist in precisely the same way anywhere else. In my opinion — and with the disclaimer that my frame of reference is (of course) limited—what they’ve done here is incredibly unique and maybe even groundbreaking.

These declarations of mine aren’t premature or at all conditional on how explicitly “official” their relationship may or may not get to be in the season 3 finale. I say this from my current perspective after episode 3x11, because after that episode I feel that what they’ve been doing with this part of the story has been made abundantly clear.

When it comes to Roy Kent, Keeley Jones, and Jamie Tartt, it would’ve been very easy and even expected for the writers to fall into the trap of making them into a typical love triangle at any point. Yet they never did. People might ascribe the traditional “love triangle” label to the trio because it’s a familiar frame of reference, but as a term I feel like it’s not actually applicable to the story beats we’ve seen.

These characters have never been in any true rivalry motivated by jealousy, insecurity, or possessiveness in regards to one another’s relationships. By contrast, within their triangle and amongst all of their separate pairings, their common denominator has been mutual attempts at building respect, communication, and accountability. Roy and Jamie’s conflicts with each other predated and were never centered around their love for Keeley, and Keeley was never put in a position of having to choose between the boys. Keeley was allowed to care about both of them in different ways, maintaining different relationships with each of them on her own terms. None of them pretended they couldn’t all care about each other in some capacity while still acknowledging boundaries and variation in their relationships. And while this shouldn’t be a big deal or a surprise–especially because Ted Lasso is a show defined by second chances, found families, and endless variations of love–it’s still refreshing enough to warrant praise.

As part of that, because the writers didn’t rely on nor fear the typical contrived “love triangle” dynamic, all three of the characters’ stories were kept heavily intertwined. They live and work in the same spaces, and they care about each other in various ways, so of course they interact and share advice. Their individual arcs were then intentionally informed by the ways they learned to grow because of each other, intertwining them further.

While I don’t know for sure if the writers’ goal was to eventually approach them as an inseparable group, I suspect it wasn’t, based on a couple of quotes I’ve seen float around. That means that they may have seen the potential for the non-platonic “triangle,” chose to lean into it relatively quickly (the show is only 3 seasons!), and continued to build it so it feels organic and cohesive. That speaks volumes as to their talent and it’s also part of what makes this situation so unique.

Along those lines: Ted Lasso is a mainstream ensemble show with several storylines in play. It’s not solely or primarily about romance. It’s also not a “queer show,” meaning that queer storylines were not a central pillar of its premise, nor were they part of its original appeal to or promise to audiences.

Of course, there are now several queer storylines/characters in season 3 amongst the ensemble cast that have clearly been planned from the start, including Colin, Trent, Keeley, etc. That’s fantastic, and anytime a show doesn’t “start out” as blatantly queer but later makes a natural place for the development of queer characters within its wider story, it’s a huge win. It’s also great storytelling!

But rarely is that the case when it comes to polyamory. While there are several movies and shows that include it… most poly representation is within the context of an already radically queer story, or within the context of a story that’s solely about being polyamorous. Any non-monogamous relationships–or even the potential for them–are very rarely given casual, “normalized” inclusion amongst an ensemble, or treated like just another romance in the mix.

And yet… Roy, Keeley, and Jamie seemingly have been, with beautiful complexity. It's like seeing a real windmill for the first time.

This “triangle that symbolizes home” has been built as a three piece, slow burn, collective romance. Equal weight has been given to developing them as individuals while developing all of the ways they intersect and connect, with no combination falling by the wayside. Between Keeley/Jamie, Roy/Keeley, and Roy/Jamie, you can chart the trajectory of how they all grew to love each other and how they’re now coming together as a group towards the end. It all plays out with various levels of romantic motifs across the board, and–as if that isn’t already enough!–with added subtext through costuming/wardrobe, set details, framing, and music. It has been formed and shaped with great attention to detail, and of course with unbelievably beautiful acting choices that bring it to life. (Analyzing those details at length would require its own post.)

This sort of thing may exist in other media, but I’ve personally never seen anything like it before. I’ve certainly never heard of it happening in such a high-profile, widely-loved show like this.

Here, with one episode left, the equal setup of the three now feels complete and ready for a future. Roy and Keeley aren’t back together yet, so Jamie wouldn’t feel like an add-on if that is indeed where they take the story. Roy and Keeley haven’t even kissed on screen this season, in a way that feels deliberate (and anticipatory). And it’s now clear that the relationship struggles any 2 characters may have had as couples can be improved upon by adding the third person, so they’d all be fully supported in a throuple.

For example: Keeley helps them all to be more vulnerable and open while also being a problem solver. Roy’s steady, heartfelt, but no-nonsense encouragement builds them all up with confidence but not toxic pride. Jamie now wears his heart on his sleeve, bringing a level of fun and joy that’s incomparably him. If Keeley sometimes needs space, Roy and Jamie are clearly happy to be indefinitely tied together (sometimes literally). If Jamie or Keeley want to be the life of any party, they’ve got a partner for the scene so Roy doesn’t feel obligated to match that energy. Roy and Jamie relate through football as a specific kind of language, understanding that part of each other as only they can while Keeley cheers from the side. Each of them has taught the others new skills along the way.

If any of them now enter into new relationship territory, it sure seems like they’ll do it all together as a full set–and be stronger for it.

Feel free to call me a fool, but at this point I’m confident that at minimum they’re going to leave this story hinting at the three of them getting together off screen in the future. That’s the baseline I personally really wanted, and it’s more than I’d have previously dared to hope for.

In terms of what could happen on screen: Do I want them all to have a conversation about dating each other and/or kiss and/or be shown in bed together? Yes. Do I think at least one (if not all) of those things are going to happen in the season finale? After episode 3x11, I find myself nearly convinced we’re going to get SOMETHING of the sort. It feels like a thread that needs pulling (or a Chekhov’s gun that needs firing?) after Roy and Keeley’s conversation in Jamie’s room. It’s the next bit of natural and needed evolution for all of them.

Or, as Trent Crimm once said, “You’ve done this over three seasons. . . thousands of imperceptible moments, all leading to their inevitable conclusion.”

But am I counting on that inevitable louder conclusion? Will I be disappointed if it doesn’t happen? Do I think any of that explicit behavior has to happen for this poly relationship to be considered canon and have merit?

Not at all.

That’s not how I choose to view media. Personally, I never play the unwinnable game of debating the ever-shifting goalposts of what constitutes “good representation.” Relatedly, I think the word “queerbaiting” is almost always misused and probably shouldn’t exist at all. And I’m tired of the lack of nuance in these discussions where people act like fictional queer relationships have to hit a certain level of “canon enough” in order to “count.” Many of those arbitrary goals seem to often be determined by whether or not ~all audiences~ can magically be convinced by the queer relationship’s seeming legitimacy. But queer stories aren’t made for the people who are oblivious to them at best or looking for reasons to disregard them at worst; at the end of the day, they’re made for queer people, as well as for anyone who has media literacy and an open mind.

If you ask me, RoyKeeleyJamie is already “canon.” Anything else we get now is just a bonus. And ultimately–after everything I outlined above–I am very aware of how unique this particular situation is, and how more explicitly going “all the way” with any queer dynamic (let alone polyamory) is still never a simple or easy task for creators to accomplish. Even in 2023.

However.

IF they do it?

If everyone involved in both creating this show and approving it (which is very key) had the sheer courage to go all the way with this storyline, in a way that most mainstream audiences won’t be able to ignore or deny without sounding stupid?

Well.

Then they’d better get a great deal of overdue praise and acknowledgement. And I will be loudly losing what’s left of my mind in the best possible way.

(I had to write this now just in case I’m incoherent after the finale.)

Either way: I am FLOORED by what we’ve gotten up to this point! I’m thrilled! I’m having a great fucking time!

And I’m very, very grateful to the team that’s put together such a beautiful triangular love story for our enjoyment.

It truly feels like it’s one of a kind.

---------

I posted this on Medium as well here :)

(so I can pull the lunatic move of tweeting it @ the writers with a more legitimate link)

#ted lasso #roykeeleyjamie #roy x keeley x jamie #roy keeley jamie #roy keeley jamie ot3 #roy kent #keeley jones #jamie tartt #ted lasso 3x11 #ted lasso season 3 #ted lasso meta #char writes things

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slavghoul · 2 years

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Interview from Classic Rock Magazine #309

What stands out in your memories of 2022?

TF: Going back to touring was a fantastic feeling! In the beginning it felt almost unreal; still with a bit of restriction, which was kind of unintuitive, but the last tour we did, in August/September, was as good as normal. We released the record when we said we would, we managed to back it up with seventy shows. We cancelled one show in total. That's a good result.

Impera has dark, historically rooted themes, but it's also music that makes the listener feel so many things - joy, aggression, excitement, sorrow... After such a turbulent couple of years there's something cathartic about that.

I am very happy about how the record came out, and that it seems to be well-received among our fans. That's a tremendous feeling. I feel like I managed to do a lot of things I set out to do. We're gonna continue next year, we still have a lot of things to do. But right now we're just recharging a little.

Kaisarion has been a hit live. For a song about the brutal murder of a female Roman philosopher, it really gets the party going.

Yeah, I'm still surprised that with a song that does what it does - and was so well received and opened up the shows - there's never been talk about turning it into a single. Which I don't understand. But at the end of the day it's a label decision, and people around that decide which ones will, quote-unquote, 'work best'. And I've realised that I'm not really capable of choosing. I remember Mary On A Cross was a B-side.

It's weird how that happens with some songs.

Yeah, I must say I feel very optimistic with regards to how that song is taking a life on its own. Even though it was technically a B-side on a fun additional thing [2019's Seven Inches Of Satanic Panic] - it was not our main single from a new album we have always played it ever since it came out, on every show. Maybe a few exceptions, but I've always pushed that song as something that I felt very good about.

On that subject, you're viral on TikTok now. What is it about that platform that appeals?

I hardly knew what it was until two months ago! I have two almost fourteen-year-old kids, so of course I'd heard the phenomenon mentioned. It's an insanely big thing among kids and teenagers. What happens is they create these short snippets, funny, sad or emotional clips, to which they often tag some sort of music or sound. And if you are a creator of sound or music, you might be tagged on to a clip that might go 'viral'. That way you hit a lot more people that you might never entertain, you know, aiming your guns at. So it's a bit of a crap-shoot as well. We are not a big mainstream act, so obviously there's going to be a mixed bag of reactions. Because people in general are kind of strange to a lot of these aesthetics of rock, and especially the darker aspects of it.

It has brought the band more attention.

But if all that attention is a good or a bad thing, we do not know yet. There have been people who might have come on to the track, and as soon as they see what the band is about - or what they perceive the band to be about - there's backlash, because it's like: "Oh my, God fearing hater!" "I don't like it!" "This is communist bullshit!" So there are two sides of the coin. But it's a great bonus if we can get new people, especially kids, into liking rock music or other things, or if it makes them feel in any way better-informed, if you will.

Do you think TikTok will be a bigger deal for musicians in the future?

I don't know. I think when you're a musician, and you're making records, you need to have a certain strategic mind. But your job at the end of the day is making records and playing live. That is the heart of the matter. If you sit around waiting for a viral thing to happen, you can wait a long fucking time.

Back in May, the identities of the Nameless Ghouls were confirmed on social media. How do you feel about them not being strictly nameless any more?

Well, they haven't really been for quite some time. So for me it was not an overnight sensation. As long as it doesn't in any way interfere with what we are doing, there's no desire that I have for people not to feel proud or happy about what they're doing.

You've lamented not being able to play more guitar. If you could be the guitarist for a day in any band, which would it be?

Good question. There's several bands. I would have loved to be what Mick Taylor was in 1969, coming into the Rolling Stones at their best era - but I would have stayed around! That would have been a great experience. Very fun music to play. Definitely within the limits of what I can play really well. I spent a lot of time as a kid learning how to play guitar. Otherwise I would love to play in the Red Hot Chilli Peppers; I love what John Frusciante does. Def Leppard might be a good fit too. Joe Elliott spoke very highly of Impera when it came out. That would have also been really cool. Also a fantastic band. In an alternative reality, in an alternative life, I would have wanted to do a lot of other things. But I did hear that [Joe said those things], and it was very heartwarming, of course. A very big honour.

#the band ghost #tobias forge #interview

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ariel-seagull-wings · 8 months

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IN DEFENSE OF THE ALIEN DESIGNS IN STRANGE WORLD

@themousefromfantasyland @the-blue-fairie @tamisdava2 @minimumheadroom @thealmightyemprex @amalthea9 @angelixgutz @grimoireoffolkloreandfairytales @softlytowardthesun @grimoireoffolkloreandfairytales

So, I read on-line some comentaries saying that it was hard to connect to the titular Strange World because of how out of this world the alien creatures were.

Their designs were considered too strange, to the point of being considered scary by audiences, who expected those creatures to be intimidating monsters, rather than the neutral, if simpathetic beings they were portrayed as.

This characterization apparently didn't correspond to what is expected from their appearance.

And I started to investigate in my memory: why this disconect happened?

Why it was more easy to imagine those beings as villanous monsters, rather than the simple living beings they actually were portrayed as?

So, when it comes to other worldly creatures written in fantasy and science fiction works, since we are humans, it has historically been more easy to connect to alien fictional creatures that are closer to humans, or at least other mammals.

The more distant they looked from humans in appearance, usually closer to reptiles or insects, the more likely they were to be presented as villanous monsters that must be eliminated by the heroes.

In fantasy you have the usual conflicts between heroic and appealing humans, elves, dwarves and halflings against the villanous and grotesque orcs, goblins and trolls.

And in sci fi, the more sympathetic aliens are the ones that look close to humans, while the more far from humans that alien is, the more likely is that they will be the treat to be fought.

In the Lindsay Ellis video "Designing the Other", she brings up the important point on the emphasis on eyes to make audiences form a connection with an alien character.

When they have big, expressive humanoid eyes, they are more likely to win the audience's simpathy:

When their eyes are more insect like, or non existent, then they become mysterious, threatening monsters:

Jack Saint's video "Avatar: Dances with White Saviours" comments that the presentation of the planet Pandora and the native Na'Vi as conventionally beautifull is used as the main argument to make audiences simpathize with it and support its message of echological preservation

While less mainstream literary sci fi would present the message that even the non beautiful, even violent ecossystems and creatures are important for the balance of the enviroment and have the right to be preserved.

And then there is Strange World

Strange World presents a story where a team goes trough the subterranean to save the plant that is their source of eletricity from creatures that they perceive as an agricultural plague.

The creatures follow the design pattern that we usually associate with monstrous, villanous aliens: far away from humans or other mammals, closer to insects, sea creatures and abstract cells.

We look at their appearance, and feel fear, treating them like abominations who would destroy us.

And the narrative knows that. Is an important discussion in the narrative.

When Jaegger joins the journey with the team, Ethan tries to show him and Searcher the card game Primordial Base, which is about finding peacefull solutions to live in harmony with the enviroment surrounding you, which includes the creatures you consider threatening eldritch abominations.

At first, Jaegger and Searcher fail to understand what Ethan says.

Then, they learn what his words means when they see that the supposed plague that they come to destroy was actually an imune system working to heal the living heart of their world, from Pando, the plant that for years they tought was beneficial.

The saviours of their lives are the beings that they believed to be monsters.

Just because something is not what we perceive as beautiful, doesn't mean its evil.

That is the message that the characters had to learn to be alive.

And by extension, us, as the audience, had to examine our decades of biases on who is good, and who is bad, in the proccess.

Nature is neither good, nor bad. It doesn’t care about us.

It just is. That is enough reason that it needs to be respected and preserved.

#strange world #western animation #sci fi #cinema #disney #genre fiction

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bradassholemajors · 10 months

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Wtf Is Shock Treatment’s Deal? (Or, Local Critic Discovers Escapism and Having Fun In The Midst of Late Stage Capitalistic Dread)

Watched Shock Treatment for the first time this week, and I am a changed man lol. Here are some disorganized thoughts:

I think something that makes Rocky Horror so special is that it can be as deep or not-deep as you want it to be. Like, if you want to think about the cultural implications of the themes portrayed (hedonism, gay & trans liberation, gender roles, the Invasion-of-the-Body-snatchers style infiltration of outside queer forces, the downfall of the safety contained within a collective identity), you can absolutely do that! There’s so much to be interpreted there!! But if you are just here to see Tim Curry looking incredibly sexy and violently thrust along to the Time Warp at a midnight showing with a bunch of cool strangers, that is absolutely awesome, too. Slay!! Take what you want.

BUT SHOCK TREATMENT MANNNN??? Shock Treatment is a whole different ballgame lol. Like, it is also a thematically rich goldmine, if you’re willing to squint a little— in terms of content included, not necessarily how it’s portrayed within the narrative. In the words of Barry Bostwick here, “it was a statement about the future that we weren't quite ready to explore. We didn't really even have the mental emotional vocabulary to understand what Richard [O’Brien, the creator] was trying to say.” I think this is spot-fucking-on!!! It’s absolutely frighteningly prescient, especially today in terms of the commodification of mental health. Like, woah. Janet being crowned “Miss Mental Health” felt like such a Gwyneth Paltrow moment. Cultural prophet Richard O’Brien saw the dark cloud of Betterhelp and wellness culture galloping over in the horizon in the distance of the American landscape, and he set out to warn us.

I still don’t quite understand what happened in the movie. I still don’t know what my takeaway was supposed to be. And I guess if you’re a little insane and love having fun doing thematic analysis with weird media (like me), taking Shock Treatment seriously may be right for you, lol. But thematically overall I think it’s safe to say: it’s a lot less coherent than its predecessor. It’s messy. It’s not interested in being flawless. It’s not interested in appealing to an audience. It’s barely interested in being a sequel. Shock Treatment is lowkey pointing and laughing in the face of those who showed up expecting a masterpiece— which admittedly was me, because I take Rocky Horror pretty seriously. (I put off watching Shock Treatment for a while bc I wasn’t sure about how it would affect the Rocky Horror Universe I had in my head.) If not for the internet reviews prepping me, I would have walked in completely expecting another nuanced perfect symphony of a movie to measure up to Rocky Horror’s magic.

But the thing was? Watching Shock Treatment, it ended up I did not really care!!!!! I was having the time of my life!!!!!

(more under the cut whoops)

Wtf was going on!!!!!!!!!!! Who knows!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I still don’t quite know!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And I loved it!!!

This reaction of such joy, just letting myself vibe out made me think because when did I start getting surprised when watching a movie is more pleasurable than not??? Isn’t that the entire point of media??

I think with the modern commodification of media analysis and examining pop culture up close, I’d argue that Fun Media without a message is actually pretty hard to come by— at least in mainstream culture. Even stuff as sanitized as Disney movies are now digging into like generational trauma, appealing to what seems to be a collective search for depth (or at least the appearance of depth.) Modern neo-nazi brands of fascism wields power like never before, horrific images of violence follow everyone left and right. Sometimes it seems like this open secret, that everyone knows there’s this looming darkness at the forefront of our minds at all times.

So this transition from Rocky Horror to Shock Treatment felt actually sort of powerful to me. Rocky Horror’s generation-long reverberations of shamelessly depicting sensual revelry are so powerful; it’s bold even for today! (Of course, we all know transvestite isn’t a term commonly used today, but looking at it through the lens of its time, it becomes clear what a miracle the movie is. Knowing what it must have meant to queer people at the time it became a phenomenon— giving them a real space to be themselves in a hostile world criminalizing who they were, in a time of oppressive pressure to stay silent — that is the type of brave blatant acceptance hard to come by in any era.) Rocky Horror is something I don’t know if will ever happen again, and its sequel seems to concur.

Shock Treatment has been called a cash grab but I beg to differ. If you’ve seen it, no offense: but does this seem marketable to you??? It seems like it’s a Richard O’Brien project (already wacky) that went through several levels of development hell and heavy modifications through the creative process. Said with the utmost respect… it may have got away from them a bit. Put lovingly, Shock Treatment lowkey kinda sucks a little at times. It’s silly, it’s got a huge cast and musical fun galore. It’s serving B-movie realness. I don’t say this to bash on it, I say this with a bemused respect— I think the existence of Shock Treatment is as much a miracle as Rocky Horror (aren’t all creations???)

So in the first iteration, we have advocacy and fighting for freedom for those long silenced… but also, Shock Treatment seems to allow the creators to just let themselves have fun. Aren’t they both revolutions in their own right? Does everything have to be lasting cultural milestones or does our enjoyment matter in the moment? I’d argue we need both as human beings to thrive. It comes back to that Rocky-Horror-experience philosophy I covered where you’re taking what you feel you need most from the media you consume: a message or a celebration of just being here.

In conclusion, sometimes shit doesn’t have to be that deep. More movies should just say “fuck it, we ball” and give you the most absolutely incoherent fun time of your life. I love not taking things seriously, and I love creators willing to not take their work seriously. Perhaps Richard O’Brien also had a premonition with Shock Treatment in the sense of how he just had fun with it! Maybe we need less attempts at masterpieces and more attempts at just creation for the joy of it— or both, because joyful creation makes masterpieces!!! I’d love to see more creators of every skill level and every background, known and not known, say fuck you to capitalism and expectation and marketability and just say, we’re gonna do it anyhow, anyhow!!!

#this got away from me #just like #shock treatment #may have for #richard o brien #media studies #hey janet. i’ve got something to say #this is so incoherent but I’m okay with that ❤️ love and light ❤️❤️#written while I was so so sleep deprived pls only discuss if you are nice and kind abt it lol #love me writing a whole essay on how cool it is to not take things seriously - taking it Very Very Seriously #mamma mia #<- this is also abt her in a. way #Farley flavors call me

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 2 days

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Michael in the Mainstream: Top 100 Movies #100 - #76

For the longest time I've wanted to do something like this, but I never could find the right time to do it. It just seemed so daunting, and the website's image limit was a hindrance, and then my computer died and my wife's computer was all I could use... and then I went on my hiatus from doing major reviews. But I found some time, so here we go.

These are my hundred favorite films ever made, divided into fourths so each one can get an image and I can devote more time to gushing about them if I want to without feeling like I'm dragging things out.

Speaking if dragging things out, let us waste no more time! We have a hundred movies to go, so let's knock out the botom quarter!

100. Us

Jordan Peele’s sophomore effort gets a lot of shit that I feel is mostly undeserved. Sure, some of the over explaining at the climax is a bit clunky when taken at face value, but it almost feels like it’s by design, as if the movie is daring you to nitpick the premise so that you can ignore the message it’s trying to convey. For me, I find that the stellar themes, fantastic acting, and godly soundtrack manage to make up for any of this movie’s flaws.

99. Crimson Peak

Murder! Mystery! Ghosts! Incest! Leave it to Guillermo del Toro to craft a Gothic horror film this stylish and impressive! This might just be my favorite of his films, and I definitely think it is severely overlooked compared to the rest of his output.

98. Mandy

Nicolas Cage is one of my favorite actors of all time, because when he goes crazy it’s always fun, and when he’s dramatic he genuinely kills it. This film lets him do both,with the first half being a slow burn dramatic romance that ends in horrific tragedy, and the back half having him do demon drugs and get into a chainsaw duel while he murders an entire cult. Truly a beautifully insane film.

97. Scream

The film that both revitalized and ruined the slasher genre, with winking nods to the tropes that made those films what they are while also playing things just straight enough to be appealing. Only a genre master like Wes Craven could pull off a pitch-perfect satire like this, though none of it would be near as good if it didn’t have a great cast who were firing on all cylinders. Young Neve Campbell before she became a sellout, Matthew Lillard cementing his place in horror history, David Arquette and Courtney Cox in their prime, and Roger “Mojo Jojo” Jackson playing the iconic voice of Ghostface… They’re as crucial to this movie’s success as the meta winks and impressive kills are.

96. Jojo Rabbit

Taika Waititi made one bad superhero movie and then everyone turned on him as if he didn’t make the film that proves you absolutely could make Blazing Saddles in this day and age. While it’s neither as gut-bustingly funny nor as profane as Mel Brooks’ magnum opus, it’s still a very fun, funny, and heartbreaking satirization of Nazism. I think he’s allowed to make one Love and Thunder when he made something this good.

95. Akira

The movie with the coolest bike slide in cinematic history, and this is indisputable because every single movie and show with motorcycles in it borrowed that cool bike slide. This film does show its age a bit, but it’s still an awesome sci-fi showcase of animated action and body horror. Plus it’s just a lot of fun seeing Tetsuo and Kaneda spend at least half of their dialogue dramatically screaming each other’s names.

94. 300

I make fun of Zack Snyder a lot, but I do it out of love; the dude who made 300 has gotta be capable of doing better than his recent output, after all. Stylish, slick action and slow-mo put to good use showing an army of nearly naked macho men cutting down hordes of nasty bad guys… The fact I watched this movie so much as a teenager should’ve been the first hint I was bisexual.

93. Spider-Man: No Way Home

People are really fucking hard on the MCU Spidey, and not without reason, but sometimes it really comes off as disingenuous. Look at this film, for instance; it has gotten some flak for just being a cheap nostalgia circlejerk that uses cameos so you can clap and cheer and ignore the ‘plot holes.’ I cannot imagine being that miserable of a movie watcher. To me, this film is a tribute to the cinematic Spideys that came before while giving them some degree of closure that I never thought I’d see, while simultaneously bringing Holland’s take on the character closer to where he should be. It’s also really hard to hate a movie where Willem Dafoe gets to go Goblin Mode again and power bomb Tom Holland through several floors of an apartment, cementing him as comic book movie villain royalty once and for all. Are there cheesy moments, moments where things don’t make the most sense? Sure. But to focus on those bits instead of the core themes and how the characters are used is an awful way t do film criticism. The returning heroes and most of the returning villains are used very effectively to tell the story they wanted to tell, and most importantly they don’t overshadow Tom and his friends. The fact he stands toe-to-toe with Tobey Maguire and Andrew Garfield is nothing short of amazing, spectacular even.

92. The Lost Boys

Joel Schumacher died with one of the most unfairly earned infamous reputations around. Man made one campy superhero movie where you can see George Clooney’s nips and hear Arnold Schwarzenegger make ice puns and suddenly everyone forgets he made one of the greatest and most homoerotic vampire films ever made. While the stuff with the kids is very hit or miss, the stuff with David and his vampire biker gang is awesome, and the climax is one hell of a good time.

91. Barbie

Want to introduce your kids to feminist concepts but really don’t think they’re ready for Poor Things? Greta Gerwig has got you covered, with this pink-hued intro to feminism that uses the world’s most popular doll in a meta-narrative about her impact as well as what it means to be a woman and how the patriarchy is detrimental to both men and women. Margot Robbie gives a great performance as the titular heroine, but it is Ryan Gosling as the well-meaning idiot turned antagonist Ken that steals the show. It helps that he sings one of the most incredible, sincere power ballads ever written.

90. Street Fighter

As a connoisseur of cheesy, “so bad it’s good” films, quite a few of them have made my top 100. Here’s the first of those, this goofy Saturday morning cartoon of a film where the most American character ever (Guile) is played by the least American guy imaginable (Jean-Claude Van Damme). While it undeniably fumbles a lot of the cast of the game it’s adapting, Chun-Li and especially M. Bison are done so well it’s hard to be too mad. It’s a fun, stupid, silly 90s action film and sometimes that’s all I need.

89. Knives Out

After polarizing sci-fi audiences with his Star Wars film, Rian Johnson subverted our expectations by delivering a whodunnit for the ages. After seeing them restrained by blockbuster franchises for the better part of a decade, seeing Daniel Craig and Chris Evans really let loose again is a real treat.

88. Everything Everywhere All at Once

Twitter tries to convince me every other week that this movie is dogshit, but I ain’t buying it. This is one of the best uses of the multiverse in recent memory, using it to tell a stylish, silly, and heartfelt story about family and trauma. The entire cast is amazing, but it’s Ke Huy Quan in his big return to the silver screen that really steals the show.

87. The Texas Chain Saw Massacre

My favorite thing about this movie, this proto-slasher, is just how fucking unclean it makes me feel. It’s not overly violent or gory, but it is genuinely grimy and unsettling in a way few other horror films can match. The dinner scene near the end in particular is just so fucking unnerving. Just truly unmatched atmosphere with this movie.

86. Spaceballs

While I’m not going to argue that this is a better film than Blazing Saddles, I still enjoy it a lot more since I’m a bigger fan of Star Wars and sci-fi than I am of Westerns. It’s just a damn funny parody, and hoe can it not when it has some of the funniest people to ever live (Mel Brooks, Joan Rivers, Rick Moranis, John Candy) and a great heroic lead performance from Bill Pullman all delivering some of the silliest lines ever written?

85. RRR

This is basically live action historical fiction anime. These characters pull off some of the most insane feats of action I have ever seen, action that makes the average American action film look like Peppa Pig. But I would not give a shit if there wasn’t a strong emotional core; the two leads have a brotherly bond unlike anything I’ve ever, and it makes the action that much sweeter. Frankly, this movie would make the list just for the final battle alone, since it might be my favorite action scene of all time.

84. Strange Magic

This movie holds a very special place in my heart. I went to see this with my wife back when we first started dating, and at the time I was filled with anxiety and insecurity, worried that I wasn’t good enough and didn’t deserve a relationship among other things. I sat down to watch this, and when it got to the titular song, something clicked, and I felt secure. I felt like our relationship was the right thing, and all these years later it’s hard to deny I was right. So thank you to this cheesy jukebox musical inspired by Shakespeare and George Lucas’ desire to make a film for little girls. They will never convince me you’re a bad movie.

83. Princess Mononoke

Maybe Miyazaki’s Spirited Away is objectively better, but this is my favorite. I think it’s because this one is a lot more excitin and action-packed, with all sorts of thrilling setpieces interspersed with the quieter dramatic moments Miyazaki excels at.

82. Jurassic Park

One of Spielberg’s greatest achievements is bringing dinosaurs to life on the big screen. No matter how many times I sit down to watch this, I still feel the same awe the characters do when they lay their eyes on the dinosaurs—which really highlights how good the cast is, because they’re amazingly convincing even when they’re looking at dated 90s CGI.

81. Labyrinth

It’s David Bowie starring as the villain in a musical filled with puppets that’s directed by Jim Henson. How the fuck is it possible to not love this movie?

80. V for Vendetta

Yes, this does dumb down the politics of Alan Moore’s comic significantly and turns the story into a much more straightforward plot. But what it lacks in depth, it makes up for with Hugo Weaving and pyrotechnics. And it’s not like there’s no depth here; crucially, this film keeps the entirety of the prisoner’s letter sequence. If that was left out, I would not have liked this movie at all.

79. Wreck-It Ralph

It’s amazing how much Disney got right here that it would go on to get wrong over the next decade. We have a hidden twist villain, something that hampered later films… but he’s shown to be a dick, with the villain reveal being how evil he is. It’s a big crossover of nostalgic properties… but they’re more used as seasoning for a story about original characters. It’s just astonishing how Disney would end up dropping the ball, even in this film’s sequel, when they got everything right the first time.

78. Sin City

What’s black and white and red all over? This bloody brilliant adaptation of Frank Miller’s sleazy comics (and one of the last genuinely good things with his name attached to it). The visual style here is the real big selling point; it genuinely looks like the pages of a comic come to life. While the movie as a whole is fantastic and “The Big Fat Kill” segment is still really, “The Hard Goodbye” and “That Yellow Bastard” are the real highlights, the former because of a career highlight performance from Mickey Rourke and a terrifying villain turn from Elijah Wood of all people, the latter because of one of Bruce Willis’ finest performances of the 2000s and excellent use of slight splashes of color (yellow for the titular bastard).

77. Batman & Robin

As long as I live, this movie will have at least one defender. Joel Schumacher created a silly, campy comic book movie for the ages, and maybe back in the day people weren’t read for it… but I was. I love the ice puns, the nipples, the bat credit card, all of it! All of its silly, stupid corniness makes this as memorable as it is! It’s like the West show with a gigantic budget.

76. The Rocky Horror Picture Show

And speaking of camp, here is the cult classic. We can argue all day and all night whether this film has aged badly, but this was a huge step forward for queer cinema on top of being a damn good musical. If nothing else, this movie helped rocket Tim Curry into the stratosphere and made him the star we know him as.

#michael in the mainstream #list

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