#not sure how i’ll transition from this to PRINCESS BRIDE but hey

[derschleierfallt]

cabaret… movie 1. ummm HOLY COW.

i will start with what i knew before: not a lot! first, i knew pia douwes in that one tv performance i love. second, i knew of some controversy. people recently laughing in the theater over something the emcee says, something about her looking jewish? who is her, why does he say this? why do people laugh? how is this at all alike to that tv performance? granted, a performance out of context for a tv show is ofc gonna be different, but still. it was sort of cheeky, funny, reveling in all the drama. how does that compare to what else ive heard?

i really locked in for this. when i said locked in i meant it. lights off, my big headphones that look stupid but have good sound, and an honestly disgusting amount of pasta. i know nothing that makes sense. i couldn’t even tell u a little plot summary if i tried. does that make me a fake musical fan IDK u tell me

im not sure if this is the right word, but i have been told by some friends that i do tend to love stuff thats maybe a little more eccentric. i love the drama! so i immediately loved the cabaret. forget my troubles? yea sure thing i can do that! this shit rocks! i like sally, she’s fun, she’s beautiful, she’s wild. i like brian, he compliments her nicely, they’re cute to watch. and i’m caught off guard a little, cus in between all this is all this imagery. obviously it’s not for nothing, you don’t put nazis in shit for nothing, but it’s on the back burner just enough for the drama and the glamor and the music to come swooping back in. and then it’s out of my mind again. then again and again, it’s pushed just a little bit closer to the forefront. eventually, there’s a pit in my stomach. what’s going to happen with all of this? when is everything just going to explode? it doesn’t, it never does. the cabaret comes back in again to take all those troubles away, and the nazis are in the audience again, just like they were in the beginning. only this time they aren’t beaten anymore

it’s disturbing, then and now. we can escape any time we want. there is always something to take away our troubles. we have new ways to continue to feel comfortable with indifference and justify our ignorance. stupid conspiracies that spread like wildfire, and the world feels so much more vast with the internet. what do i matter in such a big world? isn’t it easier to sit back and forget? enough distraction and that pit in my stomach goes away, one harsh reminder can bring it back, but there will always be a new distraction. i will be thinking on this movie for a while. in a way, it was a reminder to me

i loved it, and i would love to see it again on stage. but however it is on stage, i think it translated beautifully to screen. i particularly loved the editing! i highly recommend everyone watch it, a must see if im being honest

steeped my tea for 4 hours. i am not sleeping tonight so im gonna lock in and clear off my movie watchlist a little…. im gonna lock in

[konglindorm]

Growing Up Beastly

As you probably know by now, I’m kind of obsessed with Beauty and the Beast. And I’ve spent a lot of time focusing on the nature of the Beast, and especially on his origins and on the idea of the Beast as a victim. (Like this post in my Sexual Abuse in the Folk Tradition series, and this post and this one about why we don’t curse children.)

Today we’re going to talk about a slightly different Beast, from a different variant of this story type. This is, of course, Prince Lindworm.

Like our usual beloved Beast, it’s not the lindworm’s fault that he’s a lindworm, although for slightly different reasons—his mom screwed up, and he was born a lindworm. This enchanted bridegroom has literally never been unenchanted; there’s no natural state for him to return to. He’s always been a beast. (Sort of like Hans My Hedgehog, actually; maybe I’ll come back to that in another post.)

Before the lindworm gets transformed into a man, he eats two princesses. Which is…not great. However. He is a lindworm. Which is a kind of dragon. Which is, you know—I mean presumably they have dietary needs that differ from a human’s?

I have so, so many questions about this story that are not addressed in the original text. But the main one is what on earth did the lindworm think was going on here? So. Several points.

Firstly. There is a distinct possibility that he’s sort of a baby lindworm. (At least in the early Danish version. In the later version incorrectly attributed to Asbjorsen and Moe, we have a clearer timeline.) The queen gives birth while the king is at war. The lindworm slithers away, and reappears as the king is coming home from war.

Is this a war that’s lasted fifteen to twenty years? Did the king come home from the first war, stay home for several years, then go fight in another war that he’s returning from when the lindworm approaches him? Did the queen give birth to a fully grown lindworm that met the king a few months later? Did the queen give birth to a baby lindworm that was an adult by the time the king got home, either because lindworms grow faster than humans or because magic? Did she give birth to a baby lindworm that’s still a baby? How old is this lindworm?

Secondly. How did the lindworm know the king was his dad? Because he clearly did. He just slithered up one day and said “Hey, I’m your son. I wanna get married.”

Who raised this lindworm? Who told him who his real parents were? The text says he burrows under the bedchamber as soon as he’s born, and doesn’t mention him having any further contact with the queen or with anyone else.

Thirdly. Did the lindworm even know he was under a spell? Dude’s been a lindworm for his entire life. He knows his parents are human, but, like, do lindworms have access to comprehensive sex education? For all he knows, all lindworms might have human parents. Is he aware that he’s not supposed to be a lindworm? Even if he is, does that necessarily mean he wants to stop being a lindworm?

Fourthly. What was his ultimate goal here? He demands brides. He eats them. He demands more. Why?

Personally, I know nothing about lindworm culture and tradition. Maybe they’re, like, reverse black widows or praying mantises, and eating their wives is just, like, what they do. Or maybe he was just really hungry—though surely there would be people other than his new wives available to eat.

Why did he want to get married? Did he ever intend for a wife to survive past the wedding night?

Fifthly. The transformation. Did he see this coming? Again, did he even realize it was a possibility? When this chick starts demanding that he molt out of season and then whips him and bathes him in milk, what does he think is happening? Does he realize it’s a transformation spell? Was he expecting it or hoping for it? Does he think it’s just a bizarre human wedding tradition? Did the other two girls try to break the spell too, and do it wrong?

Shedding ten layers of skin in a row is gonna be pretty incapacitating for any sort of reptile. Once he’s done that, there’s no defending himself from things like the whipping. If the other girls tried to break the spell too, but skipped the shedding step and went right to whipping, he might have eaten them in self-defense.

Sixthly. The aftermath. So our lindworm is now a handsome prince. Okay, now what? What does that even mean? He’s literally always been a lindworm, with, as far as we can tell, lindworm behaviors and a lindworm palate. You aren’t turning him back into a prince—you’re turning him into a prince. Even if he always knew he was under a spell and it would someday be broken, that doesn’t change the fact that he’s like, inherently, fundamentally, a lindworm. He grew up as a lindworm, doing lindworm things.

He has no idea how to be a person, much less a prince. Walking, gesturing, chewing food—all exciting new experiences.

I mean, on the bright side, the king and queen didn’t actually miss out on their only child’s babyhood, after all—they still get to have all those fun experiences, just with an adult man who’s on his third wife and ate the first two.

I just, like, I don’t get how this whole thing is going to work. I have questions. I have concerns. I have many, many concerns.

Th circumstances are wildly different, but ultimately I think he’s a victim, too. Brides for lunch and all.

It’s not his fault he’s a lindworm, and while he was a lindworm, he did, presumably, what lindworms do. And now he’s a man, whether he wants to be or not. So he’s lost everything he’s ever known and been, and now he has to learn how to be a different kind of creature, from scratch, twenty years too late. (And depending on that whole king-at-war timeline, he may have just transitioned over night from a baby dragon to an adult man, which….yikes.)

What is the learning curve going to be like here? Let’s assume he’s not going to try to eat any more people, because of the sizing issue if nothing else—lindworms are probably a lot bigger than men. (How does he feel about the bride eating, looking back? Does he feel guilty? Does he shrug it off as a lindworm thing that he did when he was a lindworm? Is it all just kind of awkward?) Is he going to eat—or try to eat—a few cats or rats or lap dogs? How many months or years will it take him to remember he has to step out of bed in the mornings, instead of trying to slither and falling in a heap on the floor? When molting season comes around, is he going to try it and sprain something? (Or will molting forever be associated with terrible, terrible trauma after that bizarro transformation sequence?)

This guy has been totally screwed over since literally the moment of his conception. And for the stupidest reason. He didn’t insult someone, didn’t turn down their advances or refuse to share or help. His mom ate too many flowers. That’s it. That’s the whole reason he’s a monster, the whole reason two innocent girls are dead.

(Also, on the subject of those flowers, he should have been a girl. The queen ate the girl flower first, then the boy flower; she should have had a girl. I think I’ve done everything I’m going to with this story, but if you want to write a retelling where the lindworm is a girl, hit me up in like five years when my publishing company has expanded a little and I’ll publish it for you.)

(I wrote a book about the crazy aftermath, and you can get it here.)

[buffyversefanfiction]

Tristan Tormented

Volume 4 - Trusting Tristan

Warning: I do not own the rights to the television show Buffy the Vampire Slayer, its spin-off series Angel, its dark horse comics continuation series, or any of the characters created by Joss Whedon and others in the Buffyverse. 15 years +, Mild to Strong Violence, Sexual References F/F, F/M, M/M, Other +

“Dante?” Tristan asked a man like shadow figure within the corner of a basement with hope in his undead heart as he woke up to find himself on a single prison like bed locked up in a cage within a basement, knowing it could not be his dead lover but somehow feeling it was not out of the realm of possibility for some reason. “Actually, I am Joyce Summers your mother’s mother which makes me your grandmother.” Joyce replied as she stepped out of the shadows and began walking towards her grandson’s cage door. “I can tell you really loved him; I am sorry you had to go through the pain of losing him.” “Are you not supposed to be dead?” Tristan wondered, as he began to think he was either losing his mind or seeing a ghost, either of which was perfectly plausible. “Yes, I am,” Joyce laughed off innocently, “but then again so are you!” “You got me there,” Tristan responded with a reluctant smirk on his face. “You have a beautiful smile when you allow yourself too but then again, I guess you have not had many opportunities to smile.” Joyce informed her grandchild making him uncomfortable with her compliment. “Is this hell?” Tristan asked his grandmother but before she had a chance to answer she had disappeared within the blink of an eye and it was now Rupert Giles who stood in front of him, cleaning his glasses with a handkerchief. “No this is not hell Mr. Summers although I have been told on numerous occasions that Los Angeles is as close to hell as it gets.” Giles answered as he put his glasses back on and slipped his handkerchief back into his pocket, meanwhile Tristan tried to understand what exactly was happening around him. “Have we not been here before Giles?” Tristan questioned the former watcher as he began to think seeing Joyce was nothing more than a trick of the mind. “Yes, well I made a rather mess of things then and this is my chance to make right.” Giles replied after finishing cleaning his glasses and putting them back on. “Your recent transition into vampirism has not been what you expected has it?” Tristan’s interest was immediately peaked not only was this his first visit since waking up in a cage following days of being drugged asleep after losing a fight against Spike but Giles had touched upon the topic of his vampirism and how it had not been as expected which he knew all too well. Although he was not going to admit this to the former watcher but instead stay silent and see how the conversation turned out, hoping for some information about his current state or at the least a chance to tease Giles once again before working out how to escape his latest prison. “Yes, I did conclude that you admitting to having a soul would be tiresome even before you became a vampire.” Giles responded to Tristan’s silence. “I have something of an answer to your recent complications although I am awaiting more information…” “Unless this is going to end with your joining me in this cage for a good old rattle I am not interested, soul or no soul that shit does not phase me. I am not Angel!” Tristan interrupted him, wanting to know what Giles knew but refusing to let him know he was remotely interested. “You are his son though and Buffy’s which means you cannot be entirely evil it is not possible for none of their goodness to be inside of you, your parents have saved the world time and time again and continue to do so and yet so far all I can see you care about is sex, murder and blood.” Giles told him, making it clear he was not convinced by Tristan’s words whatsoever. “Although that is not entirely true there are people you do care for, they are just not with us, anymore are they?” Tristan once again answered with his silence as he tried to look as emotionless as possible refusing to show Giles any sign of the grief he still felt for the loss of his adoptive parents and his recently departed vampire boyfriend. “Give it up G, this one is a hard nut to crack but lucky for us all so am I.” Faith declared as she walked down the stairs to the basement. “Well if it is not the rogue slayer who turned out to be a loss less bride of chucky and a lot more bride of Buffy.” Tristan retorted with a sinister smirk, almost looking pleased to see the slayer. “I am going to take that as you missed me!” Faith replied with great sarcasm as she walked over to stand by Giles before turning her attention to the former watcher. “Actually, there was a lot more I had to discuss with Tristan.” Giles answered Faith, only for Tristan to mock him with a loud fake yawning sound as he rolled his eyes. “I say we just let him out the cage and force him to see things for himself.” Faith suggested to Giles, instantly shocking Tristan who could not believe she would set him free and it was in that moment Tristan realized none of what he had just experienced existed. This was not the real world to that Tristan knew with certainty but what he did not know was whether this was a dream, nightmare, vision quest or hell dimension all he did know was he would have to play it out to find his answers. “Yeah let me out already, I promise to behave.” Tristan lied to Giles and Faith, before Faith all too eagerly opened the now suddenly unlocked cage door. “I am ready to see whatever wants to be seen.” He did not know why he had been plucked from the real world nor how long he would be here wherever he was but he knew he wanted to get some answers and so he decided to play along, not realizing the answers he would get by doing so would be the kind that he may not necessarily want to know.

Tristan walked out of the basement and straight into the 1950s or at least that was the theme of the atmosphere around him as he walked into the lobby of the Hyperion Hotel knowing that this hotel was the base of his father’s operations but also knowing this had to be years in the past due to the hotel looking five star worthy instead of rundown ruins. He took in the elegant style of the residents within the hotel, the whispers of conversations they were having and the general happy vibe that only convinced him more he was in hell as he walked over to the reception area where he was met by a beautiful brown haired receptionist with a transcending smile spread across her face. “You must be the boss’ son, you’re a lot more psychotic than the last one and considering he was raised in hell by a wacko hunter intent on raising him to kill his father that is sure saying something.” Cordelia Chase greeted him as she stood up to face Angel’s second son. “Still you’re not as bad Angelus so I guess that is something.” “I’m guessing if I made a run for the front doors it will not lead me to anywhere or it will lead me to somewhere worse than the 50s.” Tristan responded to her. “I do not mind the 50s there are far worse eras believe me!” Cordelia replied before picking up a set of keys from her desk. “I reckon if I was born in this era, I’d totally killed the acting game but hey ho I guess settling for being a higher being will just have to do.” “You are Cordelia Chase; I have heard about you and despite the whole wacko demon possession pregnancy saga I like your rise from rich princess to broke but brave queen.” Tristan admitted, “I was told stories about Angel, Buffy and the lot of you for years…you were my favorite character but I am guessing that is largely due to the fact Drusilla worked so hard on making me hate my parents that if anyone was going to be my favorite it was either going to be you and Faith and considering that bitch helped kill my boyfriend I am sure not a fan in real life!” “Do you know I was never much of a fan of her either but hey she helped my guy when I couldn’t, and I’ll always owe her for that.” Cordelia revealed as she handed over the keys to Tristan who reluctantly took them from her. “I guess I am checking into this room?” Tristan questioned the higher being, already knowing the answer. “Yes he is waiting for you oh and just a little word of advice from a former demon to a current demon you just got to trust Tristan through all this the complicated part being which Tristan to trust but I guess that is up to you.” Cordelia cryptically informed him, making Tristan more confused than ever as he began walking towards the stairs, wondering who was in the room he was currently heading towards. He had already met two ghosts; one from his mother’s past and one from his father’s, so he began to wonder if the third ghost would be from his past, that’s if the person in the room was even a ghost, a ghost being a better option than someone of the living considering all the people Tristan truly cared for were all dead, well almost all of them.

“I’ve been expecting you,” The Master said upon opening his hotel room door to Tristan who reluctantly walked in, knowing who The Master was by his appearance alone, The Master only having his vampire form and wearing clothes far older than the current 1950’s which Tristan had found himself trapped in. “You look more like Angelus than the slayer, which is kind of disappointing, Angelus was a true beast do not get me wrong, but your mother was the only one to ever best me. I long for a reunion with her, merely so I can kill her once again only this time I would make sure that death took.” “Her second death held a lot longer than the one at your hands so I guess master of vampires does not hold up to a goddess from a hell dimension but then again are you really a master when Dru did more of a number on Buffy than you ever did.” Tristan replied, mocking the master. “Now why the hell are you here considering I have never met you?” “Your attitude is beyond ratchet and you somehow believe your invincible despite being beaten time and time again…I like you.” The Master told the newbie vampire. “I may not have been alive while you were but the demon inside of you is the same demon inside of me…I am the sire of Darla, the grand-sire of Angelus and the great-grandsire of Drusilla which means you come from me.” “Yeah Drusilla told me all about the undead bloodline a long time ago but what the hell has that got to do with me being stuck in the 50s with a bunch of ghosts from my parent’s past?” Tristan complained, clearly growing sick of whatever was going on around him. “Well duh it’s a quest you see, their trying to make you choose a path, desperately hoping you’ll choose the righteous one instead of well the one you’re on now.” Anya chimed in as Tristan turned around to see her now standing at the opened doorway of The Master’s hotel room, only for Tristan to turn back around to see The Master had vanished out of sight, as if he was never there. “What kind of path? And who the hell are you?” Tristan shouted at the former vengeance demon. “This is starting to piss me off really quick!” “I am Anya formerly Anyanka known to some as a ruthless vengeance demon and others as the bride Xander Harris left at the altar.” Anya replied, clearly still not over becoming a jilted bride. “I knew your mother not so much your father but that is not why I am here…I’m here to give you a choice of living.” “A choice of living?” Tristan scoffed, “I seriously doubt you could take me Anna.” “It’s Anya and I am not here to fight I am here to grant a wish…I know seriously on the nose for a former vengeance demon but hey I do not control this quest thingy I am just showing up and doing my job.” Anya informed the son of the slayer. “I can grant you a undead life with your beloved which will not doubt end in the both of you proper dead at some point when the apocalypse comes because let’s face it whether your meant to be important or not Buffy always wins…or I can grant you a life as a slayer with your sordid past erased and the chance to do good for once in your life and possibly still dying when the apocalypse comes around because we do not all get out of those alive.” “So, you are some kind of demonic genie?” Tristan asked her, more confused than ever before as he struggled to deal with all that was going on around him, not knowing if any or all of it was real.

After coming across three ghosts from both his mother and father’s past there was only one thing Tristan was certain of; his parents had a lot of ghosts. He had no idea if these ghosts were real or if any of what he was experiencing was real but after being giving an ultimatum from former vengeance demon Anya he started to care less and less as he pondered taking her up on her offer. There was no question on his mind which choice he would take but despite that he wanted time to think it over, he did not want to give up hopes on being reunited with Dante only for this to be some kind of trick after all Anya did claim to him that this was some kind of vision quest. As he walked into the busy hotel bar he took in the beautiful music being played by a live band of musicians as he walked across the dancefloor and towards the bar where a beautiful and bewitching barmaid awaited to take his order. “I have a feeling you think you know what you want but that deep down you have no idea although you would never want to admit that!” Tara said to him as she poured Tristan a drink, confusing him further as he guessed he was now speaking to another ghost. “Well at least you are a ghost with a bar which instantly makes you my favorite so far.” Tristan replied as Tara passed him a whisky on the rocks, to which he quickly downed in one gulp. “So, what is your name and what makes me think you’re an expert on me?” “My name is Tristan Summers but the manifestation I am taking on right now is that of Tara Maclay, you see everyone you have saw so far has been you taking on a different manifestation guiding you along whichever path you wind up choosing.” Tara revealed, blowing Tristan’s mind once more. “Well not all of the ghosts were not real, but we should save that for another time.” “Let me guess the person who is real is the one who put me on this quest?” Tristan asked the witch, as he wondered who and what was real in all of this. “More like they decided to intervene with a quest already taking place to ensure they did the best their could do for their guy.” Tara admitted to Tristan. “So, tell me do you really think you can go back to being with Dante? He has been dead a long time and things are no longer as black and white for you as they were when you were with him.” “I must admit that did make me paused with the whole deciding thing,” Tristan said with a sigh as he made a gesture towards his glass, making Tara know he wanted a refill. “I was so scared for so long and he made me strong…Dru too! The truth is I’ve not felt strong since he was gone and then finding out Drusilla was to blame for my parents’ deaths…I used to revel in the darkness but now I feel it’s full weight by being alone in it.” “You do not want to back to being Dante’s naïve other half and that does not mean you do not still love him it just means you have grown to much to go back to being someone who is not you anymore.” Tara advised him as she refilled his glass with more whisky and handed it back to him. “But your clearly not the hero type either so both choices are kind of a fail for you.” “But if I do not pick one or the other, I may be stuck here.” Tristan moaned before downing his second drink. “I’m sick of prisons both in the literal and mystical sense.” “This is not a prison, this is a chance for you for the first time in your life to decide what path you want to be on without manipulation by vampires or hopes of parents who never raised you, this is your chance to be you whoever that may be.” Tara told him honestly. “There’s a big problem there…I have absolutely no idea who that is.” Tristan admitted, being more truthful than he had been in years, forcing himself to admit to the startling truth that he had no sense of identity or personality beyond the monster he had created to soothe a broken man.

Tristan found himself walking through the endless corridors within the Hyperion Hotel baffled with the choices Anya had handed him with, now knowing that neither vampirism or life as a slayer fitted who he was as he struggled to work out what did but the seemingly endless contemplation found itself interrupted when the first slayer walked out of a nearby room door and began walking towards him. Tristan quickly found himself frozen in fascination as he stared at the primeval being heading towards him, somehow recognizing her as a fellow slayer but not realizing her legacy of being the first of their kind. “I guess you are the kind of ghost who would be considered partly of my own past or at least the legacy I manipulated my way into.” Tristan told her only to be answered only to be met by a punch across the face by the first slayer. “Guess your not much of a talker?” The primeval slayer Sineya punched Tristan again before kicking him in the stomach with such force it caused him to fall to the ground. “You should not be!” She told him, as he tried to rise to his feet. “Slayer…you are not!” “Yeah I am a vampire no slayer now guess gossip travels slow in whatever decade you are from.” Tristan replied, looking the first slayer up and down. “Are you going to tell me something useful or are we just going to throw down?” “You were chosen long before you were born and will be chosen long after your death.” Sineya revealed to the vampire. “It is up to you how you chose your gift and you, alone.” “Okay enough with the cryptic crap, just tell me straight already!” Tristan moaned at her only to be met by another punch from the first slayer before being kicked back to the ground by her. “You are the darkness; you fight the darkness and only you can defeat the darkness.” The Primeval slayer informed him in a way that sounded more like a riddle than a reveal of any kind. Before Tristan could muster a reply or even get back onto his feet to face the slayer, she had disappeared out of sight leaving him confused and slightly wounded from the altercation as he slowly got back onto his feet. “So, what have you decided then?” Anya asked him, suddenly appearing from out of thin air, standing where the first slayer once stood. “Are you going to Spike and Dru it with your revived lover Dante or are you going for a fresh slate where nobody knows of the monster you were once with the added being alive bonus? God, I sound like a saleswoman…I suppose I kind of am…so which one will it be?” “Neither!” Tristan told her with confidence, knowing he had made his mind up and it was the right choice. “I am not who I was but nor am I going to pretend to be somebody I will never be…I choose to be me as I am right now able to choose my path however long or short that might be.” “Well that seems like a waste of a wish but it is not like I care anymore!” Anya admitted to the vampire. “If it helps you are not all evil and you do not have to pretend to be anymore, coming from a vengeance demon there’s more to the monster than people will ever understand.” “Thanks, I think.” Tristan replied with a forced laugh. “Although I am pretty sure you are me?” “Yeah just a whole lot prettier.” Anya answered without hesitation. “I guess you can wake up now but before you do there is something, I have just got to ask…” “What?” Tristan wondered, hoping her question would not throw him into a confusion he had just found his way out of. “Does money still smell as good as it used to?” Anya asked with a sense of sadness. “I really miss having money!”

Tristan found himself once again waking up in the single prison like bed, trapped within a cage located in the basement of which he now knew to be the Hyperion Hotel, and as he began to sit up on his bed he once again noticed a dark figure lurking within the shadows making him believe for just a moment it was Joyce before his father Angel walked out of the shadows.