#paul genuinely has no right to look at anybody in that show the way he does. esp bill and emma. and ted sometimes

[ruthflemwad]

i've been trying to make a coherent post about bill caressing paul's face during let it out for 10 minutes and it isn't working. thinking about it. thinking about it so hard. i know what you are paul matthews

[reidyoulikeabook]

Sometimes You Just Don’t Know the Answer

4 times you don’t know the answer, and the 1 time you do

This is the 2nd part to Personal Google! (You don’t have to read it to understand this, but it exists if you want to).

Ship: BAU!reader x Spencer Reid

Summary: You’d call yourself a pretty educated individual, and most people wouldn’t argue with that, given that you’re a member of the BAU at Quantico. There’s just something about your best friend Spencer Reid that gets you all tongue tied.

Warnings: Mentions of cases and case-typical violence, mentions of alcohol, Spencer and Reader being idiots again.

Word count: 3k

A/N: The feedback (in asks and the tag reblogs) for Personal Google was so lovely and encouraging and I am very grateful for it! I only made this account a few days ago and I’m already so glad I did :) I hope this is a satisfactory second part and, requests are open!

(This is the Reid I’m imagining here)

“What is up with you and Reid?” Emily’s volume is unmoderated at the best of times but right now it’s like she’s trying to alert the entirety of Virginia to your dating woes.

Dating woes might be a stretch, actually. Somehow, just her implication that something is happening between you and Spencer (even though it isn’t, unless you count two exhausted idiots falling asleep on each other and being too bashful to ever mention it again), is enough to get you feeling uncharacteristically shy.

“Nothing,” you shrug, “Well. I don’t know, honestly, nothing I guess? We haven’t spoken about that night.”

Emily’s eyes rake over you, and you can tell she’s waiting for you to continue.

“There’s nothing!” you object, “We just, it was accidental, we fell asleep because we were watching a documentary and we were tired and neither of us fell asleep on purpose.”

She laughs, dry and amused, “At this rate, you’ll be lucky to have sorted things out before you’re 50.”

You scowl, but it’s only because you know she’s right.

***

You don’t have much time to think about your situation with Spencer for a few weeks, considering the rate at which the cases come rolling in. This newest one arrives within about two days of the last one you’d just wrapped up. It’s actually kind of rude, you’ve decided, that the serial killers of America have decided to deny you two weekends in a row.

You’re briefed on the case quickly: four women have gone missing over the past 7 months from a small town in Ohio. There’s no distinct pattern that can be discerned among the victims, the oldest is 60 and white, the youngest is 23 and Asian-American. However, the first three have been found dead in the past two weeks, all within a mile of each other and all killed with the same MO: ligature strangulation.

“So we have no idea how he’s choosing them,” you say.

“No,” Hotch replies, with a sigh.

Meaning that this is probably going to take a while. Spencer senses the way you tense up a little as you absorb that fact. So he goes out of his way to sit next to you on the plane. Once the discussion about the case is done, he nudges you gently, “Did you bring a book?”

You shake your head, “I finished the one in my go-bag. Didn’t have a chance to replace it.”

“Would you like to read this with me?”

You place your hand on his wrist, gently turning it so you can see the cover, “Spencer this is written in Greek.”

“I can translate,” he says.

You move closer to him then, your head resting just against his plane seat and your chin almost jutting against his shoulder.

“Is this okay?”

He nods. The remaining 45 minutes of the flight are spent with him reading to you softly, adding in his own thoughts as he translates and sometimes going off on little tangents. By the time you land you’ve entirely forgotten about your ire with the case. You’re focused only on the characters he introduces you to, who are clearly in love even if they’re too stupid to see it, and the way his nose crinkles a little when he reaches a word with no direct English translation.

Whhat you don’t realise, is that you end up folding into him: head pressed against his chest. Somehow, neither of you notice how you naturally gravitate towards each other. Some pair of profilers.

--

Hotch sends you in different cars to the precinct, and you’re soon reminded of your frustration as you’re caught up in the hub-a-bub of the case. It’s not until you’re leaving the station, after a long and relatively fruitless briefing with the medical examiners and local PD, that you even have time to acknowledge Spencer properly again.

And even then, it’s only when Hotch says.

"You'll be sharing a room with Reid, alright?"

He’s only really asking as a formality. Nobody questions Hotch’s assignments for them. So why, then, do you feel yourself flush a little.

Why then, do you feel so embarassed replying, “Alright.”

***

There was nothing much to be nervous about with sharing a room, as it so happened. The past day and a half had been a whirlwind since the unsub had snatched a fifth victim. You’d been sleeping in shifts, making sure that some of you were awake at all times to keep working.

You were working on the geographical profile with Spencer, and had taken to driving around to look for landmarks at night, when there was nothing much else to do. There were maps but sometimes it helped just to get things embedded in your brain. And now, at 4am, you’re bursting into the conference room occupied by Spencer and Rossi, because you might just have got something.

"I have an idea,” you say, and before anybody can even respond you’re scribbling hurriedly on the whiteboard.

“Slow down kiddo,” Rossi laughs.

“Sorry I’m just,” you cut yourself off, slightly flustered and tapping your foot with frustration as you try to put the last pieces of it together, “Diana Matthews.”

“Yeah?” Spencer responds.

“She was the one who lived on Lakefield right?” Rossi asks.

Annoyingly, you can’t remember off rote. Spencer sees the pinch of frustration in your brow. He senses that you’re heading for the case file.

So, he answers, “Yeah 38 Lakefield Drive.”

Smiling gratefully at him, you breathe a sigh of relief, “There’s three different stores in the area for this local electronic repair company, Gladston Digital, in this area. Two of them aren’t accounted for on the maps because these are from last year, and one of the ones on Google is pinned to the wrong street, there are two Minister Avenues and one’s on the complete opposite side of town.”

Denoting the map with annotations as you go, you continue, “All of the victims had residences within a mile of one of the three stores. And we interviewed the area manager, Paul something, he manages all three stores. He came to speak to me and Hotch while we were scoping the area.”

“Inserting himself into the investigation,” Rossi notes, “Fits the profile. A stalker like that would want to remain an illusion of control.”

“I just need to get Garcia on the phone to see if it checks out.”

Spencer just watches, slightly in awe, as you make the phone call to Garcia. She manages to cross-reference bank statements and emails, showing that all five of the victims had taken something of theirs in for repair sometime in the year before their disappearance. And he feels something in his gut. Pride? Maybe. That’s certainly a part of it.

But there’s something else in there too. Your eyes meet his, with a flicker of recognition. He realises what it is then: marvel. Your brain works so fast, and that’s not novel to him, he knows you’re intelligent but there’s just something about how fast you manage to put it all together. You conjure something out of nothing, a link that he’d missed. And he’s reminded, again, that he has to try and keep up with you sometimes. He wonders if you know that.

Probably not, he thinks. You’re rambling down the phone and gesturing with your hands, in a way you may or may not have picked up from him, and all he can think is how you look so in your element. And beautiful.

He’s a little embarassed about how normal it feels for that last observation to pop into his head.

***

“To _____!” Prentiss cheers.

8pm has rolled around. Since your revelation 16 hours earlier, you managed to confirm your thinking, apprehend Paul Bader, and save the fifth victim. All in all, a pretty good days work. It’s not just down to you, but everyone’s singing your praises so loudly it’s making you a little embarassed.

Even Hotch sets a drink down in front of you, squeezing your shoulder, “Really good work today ____.”

Fair to say you’ve probably peaked there.

Spencer is sat to your left, sipping at a Mai Tai that you know is going to have him giggly in about an hours time.

“I wasn’t trying to keep you out before,” you tell him, “I was going to come and wake you up when I got back but you were in the conference room.”

He smiles, “I know. It was my shift to sleep.”

“Bet you’re paying for that now.”

“A little,” he chuckles, “It’s worth it.”

"I just didn’t want you to think I was hanging you out to dry. You know, to make myself look good,” you decide to press further: mostly just because the team has sung your praises and that kind of attention makes you shirk at the best of times. Let alone when you’re sat with the guy responsible for creating half the damn profile.

His eyebrows furrow. You worry for a minute about what he’s going to say, but then, “I would never think that about you. We’re a team.”

He squeezes your hand. Maybe that’s your favourite thing about Spencer, really. More than the fact he remembers to get your caffeine just how you like it, more than how gentle he is with just about everybody he encounters, more than his relentless enthusiasm for your questions about whatever pops into your mind. No, it’s his modesty. The way he doesn’t even think for a moment to be prideful or arrogant about his intelligence. He genuinely roots for you in every moment, you think.

“Are you okay?” he asks, “You seem a little..quiet.”

It wasn’t until he mentioned it that you realise you’d let your thoughts run away with you, “No. I’m good. Just thinking about how good of a teacher you are.”

“You think so?”

“Of course I think so. You’ve taught me. I didn’t know the first thing about geographical profiling when I got here two years ago. I could barely read a map,” you laugh, keeping your tone sincere, “You’re a really good teacher Spence. I feel like I learn so much from just being around you.”

“I often don’t give you much choice.”

You smile, “I wouldn’t want you to. Really. I’m always interested in everything you have to say. I think you know that. But I wanted to tell you anyway. So you’re sure.”

He’s incredibly grateful you get pulled into a conversation by Morgan, giving him a moment to process.

A lifetime of being insecure. Of feeling like nobody was interested in what he had to say but not being able to really control whether he said it anyway. All this time being insecure in himself, and you liked it. Complimented him on it, even. Considered him a teacher. He doesn’t think he could articulate, in any of the languages he speaks, the sense of peace that brings him.

-----

The Mai Tai’s do make him sleepy. Buzzed, but sleepy. After being bought rounds by Hotch, Morgan, and Spencer, you’re feeling exactly the same. It’s only 10:30pm by the time you decide to make your departure for the night. This is much to the chagrin of Emily, who lolls against Rossi’s side demanding that you stay.

“Some of us have been up since 4 this morning, breaking their backs to keep this country safe,” You tease, putting on a melodramatic air just for affect, “Besides, you’re going to regret this when you have to be up and back on the jet in the morning.”

“You will, especially since you still owe me that report,” Hotch teases, with a smile.

Emily rolls her eyes, “You two are no fun.”

She’s joking, goading you, but unfortunately for her you have a sleepy Spencer nuzzling against you which is a far more pressing matter to deal with.

“Come on Spence, let’s get you to bed,” You say, gently wiggling out from under him and offering him your hand.

He pouts at the momentary loss of contact. It’s subtle. You catch it though. He links his fingers through your own, holding your hand properly, and you try not to read into it too much. He’s tipsy. He’s tired.

Ignoring the deliberately obvious eyebrow-wiggling from Morgan, you make for the lift.

“You didn’t have to come to bed just for me,” Spencer says, “I feel bad for taking you away from the others. I’m not that drunk, I could get myself to bed.”

You shake your head, “I wanted to go to bed with you.”

His eyes snap to you, a grin playing on his lips.

“I mean, I wanted to go to bed. And we’re sharing a room. So I’m going to bed with you. As in we’re going to the place where bed is, together.”

He’s just enough tipsy to be confident enough to jest, “Sure.”

You roll your eyes, “You sound like Morgan.”

“What did Morgan say?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what Morgan always says whenever anybody goes off together.”

“That they’re having sex,” He giggles, tipsiness shining through again.

“Yes, Spence, that they’re having sex.”

“But we’re not.”

The elevator dings as you arrive at your floor, saving your brain from delving into the implications of what he’s just said. And whether that was a disappointed or netural tone.

He hasn’t let go of your hand. He walks to the door with you, still keeping your hand in his. It’s hard not to let yourself read into it now. How holding hands with him could be such a casual thing. Hard not to imagine walking through bookshops with him, one hand in yours and the other picking books off the shelf he thought you’d like. The domesticity of it sickens you.

Then he lets go to cross to the bed.

“Aren’t you gonna put your pyjama’s on?” You ask.

“I wasn’t gonna sleep yet,” he says, “I was gonna...”

He looks bashful, suddenly, self-consciously licking his lower lip, “I was gonna ask if maybe you wanted to watch something with me. You can pick. I always pick.”

“This an excuse to get me in bed with you again, Spence?” You tease, just past tipsy enough not to care that this is the first time you’ve even acknowledged that night.

"Yeah, the Pearl Harbour ruse doesn’t work twice,” he jokes.

You wish you could find the courage to tease him more. Unfortunately, the liquid courage seems to have run out, and the topic somehow feels too delicate to touch.. Instead, you change quickly into your pyjama’s. Together, you pick something to watch, settling down. You’re suddenly thankful for the single bed, the necessity to be cozied up against him as you watch. To feel his chest, every beat of his heart. You swear it’s beating fast. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

***

Just like last time, you wake up huddled against Spencer. Unlike last time, there’s no Emily banging the door down to drag you to the police station. No, it’s quiet.

You can’t see what time it is because there’s a Spencer between you and the clock. Your phone is in your back pocket but it’s hard to find any motivation whatsoever to move when you’re like this: face pressed into his chest, his head resting atop of yours so a single curl of his hair tickles your nose, his hand on your hip holding you against him.  

His eyelashes flutter, “Are you awake?”

“Yeah. I just woke up.”

He smiles, “Me too.”

“Looks like we did it again.”

“Looks like we did,” his voice is quiet.

“Do you want me to move? If I’m...I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

His free hand comes up to your chin, tipping it so you’re looking him directly in the eyes. His pupils are dilated. In the dim light it’s hard to place the look on his face exactly. But it’s soft.

"C-Can I kiss you?” the question spills quickly from his lips, like he’s afraid he’ll change his mind if he doesn’t get it out fast, “I just. I don’t know if that’s what you want too, I’ve just really-”

"Kiss me, Spence. Please kiss me.”

The smile on his face would have made you fall in love with him, if you weren’t already. And then he kisses you. Barely. Your lips are just grazing against one anothers. You tilt yourself upwards, towards him, giving him a better angle. Then he really kisses you, capturing your lips in his. It’s sweet, it’s soft, it’s...it’s everything. It’s everything, how his hands tangle themselves tentatively in your hair, how he kisses you so deeply, drinking you in.

His hand cups your cheek, then he’s pulling back, just a tiny bit, to mumble against your lips, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

The only appropriate way you can think to verbalise your agreement, is closing the gap between your lips again. There’s an urgency to it this time. Your lips move quickly, passionately. He swipes his tongue across your lower lip and you let him in, your tongues delicately dancing together. He’s good. He’s good and you don’t even notice the morning breath or faint taste of rum, it’s just Spencer.

When you finally come apart, you’re out of breath.

“I didn’t think you’d ever do that,” you say, “I was worried I was reading this whole thing wrong.”

He frowns then, that little nose crinkle appearing again, “I thought I was too obvious.”

“So did I. Maybe it’s best if we don’t tell Hotch how bad we are at profiling each other. He might rethink his decision to take us on.”

He laughs, “Not being able to profile when somebody’s in love with you might be a cause for concern. There are several obvious phyical signs of love, including dilation of pupils when looking at the object of your affection, heart rate synchronisation.”

“How am I supposed to know if our heart rates have synchronised?”

He smiles. Pressing a finger to your lips, he dips his head in the small chasm between your two chests. In the silence, in the early morning quiet, in the absence of all distraction you can hear it. The steady thrum of your hearts, pounding away at identical paces. The sound that told you that some part of you had always known.

--------------

Tagslist: @takeyourleap-of-faith​​ @sassiest-politician​​ (let me know if you’d like to be added/removed from this list)

[nnightskiess]

r e q u e s t: Hi !! I love your writing ❤️ I want to know if it’s possible for you to write something with Quinn fabray x reader ? They are together in quarantine in New York with Rachel, Kurt and Santana. Also Reader and Santana are best friends. Can you add humor and fluff please ? Thanks ☺️

Quinn and Y/N were walking hand in hand through the streets of New York. They had planned a little getaway together to the big city. It was mainly Quinn’s idea, she wanted to propose to her high school sweetheart— Y/N. But most of their trip, and thus Quinn’s plan, fell apart due to the rapid spread of the Covid virus. Their tickets for Broadway had been refunded. The cute tearoom where Quinn had planned to propose to the girl— and where the two women had shared their first kiss during Glee club’s Nationals in New York— was closed down due to the virus. Most of the things Quinn had planned out for the proposal got refunded, except for the hotel. Quinn decided that she’d postpone her proposal to another time. She didn’t want to propose to Y/N like this. She deserved a proper proposal, like the one Quinn had planned out in her head for years. Quinn tried not to let it get her down but she found it hard to lie to Y/N about the frown on her face. 

“I know it’s different.... but... I’m still glad we’re here.” Y/N brought their intertwined hands together and planted a kiss on Quinn’s knuckles. “New York always brings me back to high school.” 

“Remember when we broke the bed during our pillow fight? And, oh God, how Tana fell off it when you smacked her across the face?” Y/N shook her head in amusement, “But the thing I will never forget is when we shared our first kiss in that adorable tearoom near the hotel.”

Quinn gave her a distant smile. 

“And remember how panicked I was when Mr. Schuester walked by the window and I thought he had seen us out of the hotel room?”

Quinn hummed softly, rubbing her thumb across Y/N’s hand. She remembered every little detail about that morning, which made this all so much harder.

Y/N came to a halt and stood in front of Quinn, which caused the latter to bump into her. 

“Oh, baby-”

“Why are you so quiet? I don’t like it.” Y/N seemed genuinely worried. 

Quinn looked at the ground for a second and held her temple, trying to come up with a good enough lie. 

“I-” She looked back up at her girlfriend and her expression immediately softened. Whenever Y/N was worried— particularly about Quinn — her eyebrows would furrow and she’d pout her lips ever so slightly. 

Quinn sighed, “I’m just disappointed that we couldn’t visit it this time. I feel like a visit to New York is never complete without a high tea at our place.” Y/N smiled softly when Quinn grabbed her cheeks to comfort her.  

“You know what else makes our trip complete?”

Y/N grinned like an idiot, immediately knowing what she was hinting at. 

Quinn smiled, 

“Let’s go pick up our stuff from the hotel first and then drive there.”

✫彡

“Wait, let me scare her.” 

Quinn shook her head in amusement as her girlfriend plastered herself against the wall next to the front door of the apartment. Quinn knocked a few times before the door slid open. 

“Oh my God! Quinn! It’s so good to see you!” Kurt’s voice rang through the hallway. He quickly hugged her before calling Santana.

“Quinn’s here!” 

He turned back to the blond in front of him, “Are you alone?” Kurt was in disbelief, knowing very well that Quinn and her girlfriend were inseparable. Quinn quickly looked at Y/N through her peripheral and saw her nod her head.

“...I guess so-”

“Wait... you two are still together, right?” Concern filled Kurt’s voice, but before Quinn could reply, Santana appeared out of the bathroom.

“Ha! You bet they are.” She smirked at her friend, “Wait... where’s the fiancée?” 

Quinn’s eyes widened and she immediately faked a long, awkward laughter. “Good one, San.” 

Kurt looked between the two girls in confusion, and even Santana seemed lost. 

He let out an awkward chuckle. “Am I missing something?” 

Santana got the hint after Quinn shot her another look, “Oh- that’s just an inside joke of ours.” 

“Y/N! Oh my God!” Someone squealed.

The three turned around and saw Rachel stand in the hallway, two large bags in her hand. She had seen Y/N hide behind the wall when she walked up to their frontdoor.

“Damn it, Berry.” Y/N groaned. “You ruined my surprise.”

Santana snorted, “Well, I knew you were somewhere. Quinn gets rashes when you’re not within a radius of 16 feet.” She opened her arms wide when Y/N revealed herself. “C’mere, I missed you.”

The two best friends shared a sweet hug while Rachel clumsily carried her bags inside.

“What’s up with that?” Kurt turned to her.

“Oh- well, now that our shows are postponed to God-knows-when... I thought I’d bring the stuff from my dressing room back home.”

“Why’d you bring this coffee machine home? We already have one.”

“Yeah, but I don’t like that one.”

“Rachel! We have no more countertop space... or available plugs!” 

He gasped when he saw the brand, “These coffee pods are thirty dollars per package?!”

Santana rolled her eyes and walked Quinn and Y/N to the living room.

“So...while we let Bert and Ernie bicker... what’s up? No trouble in paradise?” She turned to the couple, hoping to cryptically find out why Quinn hadn’t proposed.

"I can’t believe you think we’d be able to part ways.” Y/N joked back and cuddled up against her girlfriend, who shook her head at Santana to let her know she’d tell her later.

“What do you girls want to drink? Or do you want some of Rachel’s exquisite coffee?” Kurt asked from the kitchen.

“Can I try a sip first?”

Quinn smiled at the childish antics of her girlfriend. Rachel gestured the girl to come over, which left the two ex-cheerios alone to talk.

Santana leaned in closer so that no one would hear,

“What happened?! Did you freak out at the last minute? Tell me you didn’t...”

Quinn sighed and rubbed her temples, “No, my whole proposal fell into pieces thanks to this freaking virus.”

“People are dying, Q.”

She sighed, “Gah, I know. It’s just- I’ve had this all planned out in my head for years. This was how it was supposed to go. And now everything is ruined.”

Santana gave her a sympathetic smile and squeezed her knee. “And there’s no alternative that you’d like?”

Quinn shrugged and shook her head softly.

“Well, if I may speak freely... we’re the only people who know Y/N in and out... which means that we also both know that she wouldn’t care if you went on one knee in a clown suit or if you wrote your big question in the sky with a plane...” Santana looked back to see if they were paying attention to their hushed conversation, but Y/N was sitting on the counter, her feed dangling while she took gentle sips of the expensive coffee. A small smile appeared on both girl’s faces. 

“The only thing she cares for is that you are the one to ask her.” 

Quinn’s eyes were filled with tears as she came to the realisation. 

“Thanks, Santana.”

“Anytime.” 

The two hugged until they heard Y/N run up to them.

“I want in!”

✫彡

A few hours had passed and all five of them were sprawled about the couch, their take-away food on the coffee table. Y/N’s head rested against Quinn’s chest while her legs were put on Santana’s lap. Quinn mindlessly played with the strands of Y/N’s hair.

It had become a tradition for them to watch ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ every time they visited their friends in New York.

“This scene breaks my heart every damn time.” Y/N mumbled and threw a napkin at the TV when Holly left the cat on the curb in the rain. 

“She goes back for him later, though.” Kurt spoke.

“I don’t care. Damage is done.”

‘People do fall in love, people do belong to each other. Because that’s the only chance anybody has for real happiness.’ Paul, one of the characters spoke.

Quinn put her head against Y/N’s at hearing that. She was filled with so much joy at having this wonderful girl in her arms.

“I’ve been carrying this thing around for months,” Paul grabbed a wedding ring box out of his coat which caused Quinn’s mind to wander off. Even though she had seen this movie a dozen times, she was still surprised to be reminded of her ruined proposal. 

Before she could make herself feel miserable about it again, Rachel’s phone rang. She quickly excused herself but motioned for them to not pause the movie. 

Rachel walked to the living area after a few minutes, her expression tense and filled with worry.

“Guys...”

Kurt paused the movie as the girls turned to Rachel.

“We might have a tiny problem...Well... a big one, actually.”

Everyone got the memo that it was something serious and they sat up.

“One of the ensemble members has been tested positive for the virus... which means that everyone— crew and cast — needs to go into quarantine at home... and that includes everyone they have been in contact with... so that would mean that we have to stay inside for the next two weeks too...”

The bunch on the couch took a moment to take the news in until Santana shot up, 

“I am not going to spend two weeks, non-stop, in here! I already go insane with too much of you as it is. I usually can deal with curtains as walls, your stubble in the sink or your god-awful annoying vocal exercises when I’m trying to sleep but that’s because I get home from work, eat and head straight to bed. But I will literally kill someone if I have to go through that all day long. I was supposed to see Brittany this weekend but hey, thanks a lot, Berry.”

“This is hardly Rachel’s fault. It’s the responsible and safe thing to do. You wouldn’t want Brittany to get it, right?”

Santana avoided eye-contact, but it was clear that she agreed with what Kurt said. 

“Wow, I feel so unwanted right now.” Y/N mumbled out, slightly joking. “You get to spend your quarantine with us!”

Santana gave her a tight-lipped, apologetic smile, “I know, that’s the only good thing about this.”

Rachel saw the gloomy looks on everyone’s face. “They won’t tell us who it is for privacy reasons, but I usually don’t hang out with the ensemble anyway so I hope I’m safe. I’m so sorry, you guys.”

Kurt stood up with a sigh, “I guess I’ll go find the spare mattress then. You two can take my bed.” He was about to walk off but pointed a finger at Quinn and Y/N. “No sex... in my bed.”

Quinn pursed her lips, not that happy with Kurt’s rule.

“You were the leader of the celibacy club, you can last two weeks without sex. Besides, there are no walls so I will know when you break my rule.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you and Blaine before.” Santana rolled her eyes. “But great. We’ll have five, sexually frustrated people cooped up together in a tiny apartment with no walls for privacy, no natural light and no entertainment. Someone’s definitely going to get murdered... by me.” She added.

“My vote’s on Rachel...” Y/N mumbled out. Santana stuck out her hand behind her back for Y/N to high five.

“I’m just glad we decided to check out of our hotel this morning and bring our stuff to you guys... because no matter how much I love you all, I am not going to wear any of your spare panties.” Quinn stood up to go and help Kurt.

“You could just go commando.” Y/N shrugged, “I wouldn’t mind.” 

Quinn sent her a teasing look and winked.

“I would say get a room but yeah, we don’t have any...so...” Rachel shrugged. 

“I can’t believe we’re going to have to do this.” Santana sighed and walked off to her part of the apartment. 

“Hey- but, look at it this way. We’ll have two weeks of non-stop karaoke, binge-watching and eating junk food. Doesn’t that sound great?” Rachel tried again but no one replied.

 ✫彡

One week done, one week to go. 

For Quinn and Y/N, this week had consisted of a lot of cuddling and making out in bed, watching silly movies and cooking with whatever they could find in the pantry.

Santana had surprisingly been on her best behaviour, though they let her be whenever she had a ‘don’t-talk-to-me’ look on her face. Y/N suspected that Brittany had probably told her to be nice and to make the best out of it, but she also liked to think that it was because of her presence. She hadn’t been able to visit her best friend often now that they lived so far away. But it was like old times whenever they saw each other again. However, Quinn had caught herself feeling jealous that the two women had spent that much time together. But her jealousy washed away when she saw the best friends joke or laugh like they used to when they were still 16 year olds. It warmed her heart.

Kurt blended in perfectly and knew exactly when to give someone space or when to approach them. He and Quinn made sure there was food on the table and he had ordered a lot of, mostly useless, stuff online to try and keep everyone entertained. The twister game had been everyone’s favourite so far. And the effort he put into his bingo night was even too wholesome for Santana to make a comment about it, no matter how bad she wanted to after getting a rubber duck as present when she won.

Rachel did her best to help wherever she could and she was, surprisingly, a lot of fun to have around when things got boring. Though, yes, the daily vocal exercises got a bit out of hand when she woke them up belting high notes at 7.30. Santana was close to killing her had it not been for Quinn and Y/N holding her back. Santana wasn’t intimidating at all with her bed head, tangled up hair and red PJs and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh.

Quinn had been over the moon, so to say. She got to spend two whole weeks with the love of her life. Yes, they lived together but that was different. Now, there was no schedule or work to interrupt them or cloud their minds. It was just them, enjoying being in each other’s arms. For a lot of couples the lockdown and quarantine would probably be make or break, but Quinn hadn’t been worried about a negative outcome at all. When you’ve been together for that long, and been through hell and back, you know you will persevere together. The company of Kurt and Rachel was fun, and it was certainly good to have Santana around again but Quinn couldn’t help but wish it had just been Y/N and herself in quarantine. If that had been the case, she knew they wouldn’t just spend their days only cuddling in bed.

Y/N was the only one that was visibly annoyed and on edge. She would roll her eyes or sigh in annoyance if things went wrong or if someone said something she didn’t like. Quinn had caught her staring out of the window, to which Y/N explained that she hoped if she looked hard and long enough she might see the dragon that would save her. She wasn’t used to sit around and do nothing and was bored out of her mind.

Quinn and Y/N were lying in Kurt’s bed with their legs tangled together. Quinn held her girl close to her chest. She squeezed her and inhaled the scent of her freshly washed hair. The window was slightly open, causing a chill breeze to slightly move the curtains.

“Now I’m sure of it...” Y/N started, getting Quinn’s attention, “I’m never going to commit a felony.”

Quinn let out a breathy chuckle, “Were you questioning it before?”

“I can’t imagine being stuck like this for years.”

“Well, you still have access to the internet, great food, your friends...and your wonderful girlfriend.” 

Y/N looked up at Quinn and grinned. She grabbed the girl’s cheek as she kissed her. 

“Can’t believe I’m about to say this but I’m actually really thankful we got stuck in quarantine.”

Y/N subtly arched a questioning eyebrow.

“It made me realise two things— too much of Rachel Berry will be the end of me-” Y/N let out a breathy chuckle at that, “-and...” 

Quinn stared into her girlfriend’s eyes, was she really going to do this now? Yes. Yes, she definitely was. This was the-

“Oh my God!” Kurt’s exciting squeal filled the apartment, startling both girls. They heard Santana shush him and it suddenly got very quiet. Too quiet... 

Y/N tiptoed out of the bed in her PJ’s and fluffy socks and opened the curtain to see Santana and Kurt staring directly at her. She had clearly caught them with something, but with what? Quinn appeared behind Y/N and noticed the jacket that Santana was trying to hide behind their backs.

Kurt noticed she was doing a poor job at it and snatched the jacket out of Santana’s hands to hold it up to his face, admiring it like it was a newborn baby. “Oh my, it’s so pretty! Where did you buy this?” 

Quinn quickly glanced at Y/N, who didn’t seem to notice what was happening. “Guys,” She groaned, “I thought something happened, you interrupted my peace.” She walked back, irritated, and closed the curtain in a swift motion. 

“Why were you snooping in my stuff?!” Quinn hissed and plucked her jacket out of his hands.

“Um, excuse me? When where you going to tell me that you plan on proposing to her!?” Kurt whispered, enthusiasm clear in his voice. 

Quinn didn’t reply and instead searched the pockets. “Where is it?”

“Here,” Santana gave her the jewellery box. “It fell out when Kurt was organising the coat rack.”

“Why haven’t you done it yet?”

“I had everything planned but the virus ruined it. It was suppose to happen the day we came here, but our favourite tearoom was shut down and so were all the other activities I had planned.” She sighed, “I was about to do it just now, in the heat of the moment, but then you two interrupted that. Whatever. I’m glad I didn’t. She deserved better than that.”

Santana crossed her arms, not happy with the fact that Quinn had apparently totally forgotten what the two of them had talked about a week prior.

“Damn, I wish you would’ve done it just now. That would mean the end of wicked witch Y/N.” Rachel joined their conversation. “Oh, so you can make fun of me but not the other way around? It was just a joke.” She added and raised her arms when she saw the looks Quinn and Santana were giving her.

“Okay, I know everyone’s feeling a bit irritated, but it’s just one more-”

The bell rang. 

“Don’t tell me you bought us all matching boho outfits for your Mamma Mia night. I’m not wearing it.” Santana crossed her arms.

“I didn’t order anything?”

Y/N appeared again and opened the door.

“Thank you so much. Here, keep this.”

She closed it, walked over to the kitchen table and went to put everything down, completely ignoring the rest. She noticed the silence and turned around.

“Oh- Don’t worry, I ordered for everyone.” 

Quinn eyed the table and recognised the familiar logo on the napkins. 

“Baby-”

“I felt so bad that we couldn’t go to our place this time. So when I found out that they started doing deliveries this week, I knew I wanted to order their high tea menu. I got the one we usually get... to make you feel better...”

Quinn wrapped her arms around the girl’s waist from behind and put her chin on her shoulder. Y/N leaned into her touch.

“This is the sweetest thing ever. I love you.”

Y/N kissed Quinn’s forehead and sat down, immediately grabbing a brownie.

“You need to wife her up, fast.” Santana whispered into Quinn’s ear when she walked by.

And she would, when the moment was right.

✫彡

Kurt was watching a movie with Blaine through face time, Rachel was practicing some lines and Santana was face timing Brittany. Quinn and Y/N had promised to do the dishes, but Quinn ushered the girl to take a nap on the couch when she saw how tired her girl looked. 

Quinn took quick glances towards the living room every few seconds and saw that Y/N had finally fallen asleep on the couch. With a faint smile on her face, she grabbed a blanket and tucked Y/N in. One of Rachel’s dvd’s, The Sound of Music, was still playing in the background. She slowly took the remote out of Y/N’s hands and turned it off.

“You’re the best and most precious thing in my life. I love you.” She bent down and caressed her cheek.

She widened her eyes when an idea suddenly struck her mind. 

✫彡

“What do we sing?”

“No... no singing proposal. Y/N would hate that.”

“I loved it.” Kurt shrugged.

“So, then what’s the plan?”

“Listen up...”

✫彡

Their quarantine was over and no one had gotten sick. No one from Rachel’s crew or cast had gotten it either. Brittany and Blaine came over as soon as they could. They were over the moon to hear about Quinn wanting to propose and agreed to help. 

“Love, what are you doing?” 

Y/N sat on her suitcase, desperately trying to get it closed.

“I thought I had gained weight, not my clothes.” She grunted, “If we want to get home before the dark we should drive off by-”

“Actually... I had something planned before we go home.”

“Oh?”

“Is it okay if we leave as soon as you can? Bring a jacket, I don’t want you to get cold.”

Quinn left Y/N to get ready and anxiously walked into the kitchen where the rest were whispering words of encouragement to her. Quinn knew how much they had loved each other for the past years, but something inside her was still very insecure if Y/N would say yes to her question... to her. What would she do with herself if Y/N didn’t accept her ring?

“She’s going to love it.” Santana hugged her tight but quickly let go when Y/N opened the curtain.

“Why are you all looking at me?”

“Because you look lovely.” Quinn grabbed her hand. They all sent her thumbs up as she took one last glance over her shoulder. 

✫彡

Y/N was eating a pretzel that Quinn had bought her in the park. The two were walking in a comfortable silence. Quinn glanced to the girl beside her, hoping that Y/N would catch on on what was happening soon. 

They had walked almost the very same route that they walked on that morning in New York many, many years ago. Their end stop would be at the edge of the park, where Santana and Brittany were now probably busy setting their high tea up.

“Why are pretzels so much better in New York?”

“Eh, I don’t know. I’m not really a pretzel girl.”

The park was normally crowded with locals and tourists, but they had barely seen a handful of people so far. 

“Wasn’t this where we sat with the kids from Glee?”

Quinn smiled softly.

Finally.

“Yeah, it is, actually.”

“Oh- Well, everything from that trip is very blurry in my mind, except for our first kiss, of course. I can even still tell you the colour of your coat.”

Quinn gave her a playful smile and grabbed Y/N’s hand. “Which was?”

“Red.” She booped her nose with the end of her pretzel, earning a giggle from Quinn.

She grinned softly, “Remember that snow globe I bought for you? With New York’s skyline?”

Y/N gasped, “I loved that thing.” 

The two laughed, remembering that Y/N had dropped it when they rushed to cross the street only half an hour after buying it.

“Then you bought me a couple others throughout the years but none of them have ever been able to have the same value to me. Sorry not sorry.” 

Quinn smiled to herself, hoping she was about to change that in a few minutes. She saw Santana and Brittany sitting on the grass in the distance and guided Y/N to the two. They left without saying a word, but not before giving the two enthusiastic but knowing smiles. Santana wiggled her eyebrows but Britt pulled her away.

“I am so confused right now.” Y/N hesitantly sat down on the blanket. “Why were they here?”

“I asked them to help me set up this little picnic so it could be a surprise. I know you ordered the high tea last week but I wanted to end our trip off like this, with just us. Also, we’ve spent the last two weeks in NYC without even a day outside. I didn’t want to leave before we went somewhere. I hope you like it.”

“Like it? I can never get enough of their cheesecake bites.” 

Quinn smiled nervously, trying to hide how stressed she felt. She poured the juice in their glasses and fed Y/N a bite of a scone with butter and peach marmalade.

“How does that taste?”

Y/N threw her head back and groaned. “I’m going to miss their food.” 

Quinn barely replied, too focused on how she was going to bring it up. Backing out now felt like a good way to calm her nerves but she knew she shouldn’t. Not only because Santana would kill her if she did, but also because there would never be a more perfect moment than now.

“Quinn?”

“Uh-Yeah, love?”

“What is this?” Y/N repeated. 

Quinn’s eyes widened when she saw the wrapped up package Y/N had grabbed out of the basket. 

“Oh- I... that...-” She sighed, “Screw it.” She went to sit on her knees and ushered Y/N to open it.

“For me?”

Quinn nodded, a big smile on her face.

“Quinnie... you-”

“Open it, my love.”

Y/N removed the wrapping paper and gasped when she saw what it was. It was a handmade snow globe, made in a mason jar. The New York skyline was glued to the bottom of it with a laminated picture of the two of them that they took during their first visit to New York. (Thank God Kurt was into a crafty phase during the second week of quarantine).

“I’m not the best at crafts but I just thought-”

“I love it.” Y/N beamed from ear to ear and her smile only widened when the snow inside of it fell onto the skyline.

“This is the most thoughtful gift someone has ever given me.”

“I’m glad you love it.” Quinn grabbed Y/N’s hand and softly moved it around so that the bottom of the snow globe was now facing up. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows until she realised what was scribbled down onto a piece of paper at the bottom. Quinn put the snow globe down and grabbed both of Y/N’s hands in her own, brushing her thumbs against the girl’s knuckles.

“I must admit that I thought what I’m about to say a million times over for the past days and I imagined what I would say to you in this moment for years—but truth be told, I kind of forgot all of that because of the nerves,” Quinn let out a chuckle, “To be honest, I have always known that you were the only girl I wanted to be with in this life. I don’t know what it was, but we’ve just had this instant gravitation towards each other. I know I wasn’t always the kindest to you in the beginning yet you still helped me through everything. The pregnancy, the accident... Now I can say all this cheesy shit about how you and I bring the best out of each other and how much love we have for one another but I think I don’t need to say that. We both know how much our relationship means to us. New York has always been a special place to me since it reminds me of why and how we fell in love. Which is why I wanted to do this here. This is were it all began. Now, I had everything planned months ago but... the situation changed and well... yeah. I had to adjust. At first, I wanted to postpone it all. Until I realised that I couldn’t wait any longer. Y/N, you are my everything. I want to be by your side until eternity. I want to be your person for as long as I can. I want to love and care for you for as long as you want me to.” 

She let out a shaky breath.

“So I guess...what I’m trying to say here is...” She grabbed the box out of her pocket, opened it and presented it to Y/N. “Would you like to marry me?”

Y/N looked at the box in shock, she hadn’t made eye contact with Quinn ever since she had presented her with the ring in her hand. 

The silence lasted only for a few seconds but it felt like minutes to Quinn, who slowly lowered her hands. 

Y/N suddenly let out a sob, then another. She jumped onto Quinn and wrapped her arms around her neck.

“Yes.” She said through her sobs. Quinn let out a gasp of relief and squeezed the girl in her arms, letting her own tears fall freely now. 

“Oh-” Y/N groaned and let go of her embrace. “I stepped into the scones...” She pouted and looked at her marmalade stained knee. Quinn laughed through her tears, realising this was exactly why she had asked this girl to marry her.

Y/N forgot it immediately the moment she locked eyes with her fiancée. She held her tight and kissed her like she never had before. 

They let go like two love-sick puppies when they heard all of their friends approach. The newly engaged couple was radiating.

“I love you, so much.”

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I thought about WandaVision

Y'know, it's kind of crazy to think that it's been over a year since we've been given any content involving the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Marvel Studios announced so many great movies, on top of new TV shows that actually impact the story, way back in the summer of 2019. But then 2020 happened. Resulting in everything, and I mean everything, we were promised getting pushed back for another year. So, when it was finally announced that the series WandaVision was, at last, ready to be released, fans were both excited as well as skeptical. Because the first thing that would reintegrate us back into this franchise would be a show about how two Avengers are stuck in a sitcom. It might be new, long-awaited content, but it also doesn't sound all that interesting. Could a story involving two characters who have yet to stand on their own be enough to carry a brand new adventure? Well, for eight whole weeks, fans were given that answer. And personally, I will admit that WandaVision might have been better than anybody could have ever expected...for the most part.

(Final spoiler warning if you haven't seen the show yet)

WHAT I LIKE

It Just Goes: This is easily the best way the series could have started. We are given no context about what is going on. We're just shown that Wanda and Vision are currently stuck in a sitcom, and that's it. By making it a mystery, fans are given this sort of interaction with the series as they find clues and come up with theories about how and why this happened. Sure, some assumptions were more far fetched than others (did people think Mephisto was confirmed just because of one misinterpreted line involving the Devil?), but it still makes the show a ton of fun to watch. Plus, even when we're given answers, it's only tiny pieces of the puzzle. We're always given a chance to figure out the bigger picture, resulting in an image that is, I'll admit, somewhat satisfying to see. Just as long as you ignore the crybabies who get upset that their favorite theories turned out to be wrong.

The Homages are on Point: I also love how straight the cast and crew play with the idea of two superheroes being stuck in a series of sitcoms. Everything they use fits in the era each sitcom takes place in. With things like camerawork, set design, special effects, acting quality, tropes, and even theme songs, everything works as a proper homage than just having two episodes in black and white and the rest in color. Each new sitcom that Wanda and Vision are rebooted in feels so genuine, to the point where they seem like they could be actual shows that could have existed. Seriously, my dad showed me stuff like The Dick Van Dyke Show when I was a kid, so trust me when I say that the very first episode nails the style that it's honoring. Not only is it charming as all forms of hell, but it also works in making these moments when characters break from the spell (get it) all the more jarring and even disturbing at times. Because when you're so keen on watching what seems like a fun and cheesy sitcom, you feel a bit unsettled when a character suddenly acts in a way that's a tad foreboding. Still, it's fun to watch and is easily the central hook for what makes this show work.

The Comedy: The homages also nail the comedy that came from each type of sitcom. The jokes fit with each period, from the cheesy and charming 50s to the cynical and dry 90s and early 2000s. It's another thing the writers play straight with, and I think it works. The only jokes made by most stories like this are just pointing out that these serious characters are stuck in a silly sitcom. Instead, the writers tell jokes that work for the period it's in, and it is all genuinely funny if you're used to those types of goofs and gags. If you didn't laugh, that's because the comedy isn't trying to reach out to you. It's reaching out to the people who actually watched these types of sitcoms. Or, in my case, the type of people who had their parents show them these types of sitcoms. And even then, I still think there are these lines and deliveries that are still funny even if you don't get the joke. For example, there's this brief moment with Vision and a toy baby that got a genuine chuckle out of me for how absurd it was. I wasn't expecting to laugh that much, but on top of the many surprises this show gave, being funny was definitely one of them.

“My husband, and his indestructible forehead”: He...hehe...hehehehahahaHAHAHAHA! AH! HA! HA! HA! 

*Slowly starts sobbing*

>Squeaks<

I see what you did there.

Paul Bettany as “Vision,” “Vision,” and Vision: Can we give Paul Bettany a round of applause for basically playing three different characters, each with their own varying levels of emotions and purposes? Because goodness gracious, this man is a champion! I've seen tons of people praise Elizabeth Olson for her performance as Wanda, and to be fair, she does do a fantastic job...aside from one blatant issue (which I'll get into later). But as great as Olson is, Bettany still deserves some credit. Throughout most of the series, he has this level of comedic-timing that I didn't even know he was capable of, by going ham or just having a dry wit. Seriously, was someone going to tell me that Paul Bettany can be funny, or was I supposed to find that out for myself? On top of being hilarious, Bettany delivers such raw emotion that none of us would have ever expected from this character. That screaming match “Vision” has with Wanda shows the very first time that any version of him has ever been angry, and Bettany does a great job at making that moment as jarring as it needed to be. And that's just from playing one version of the character! I didn't even talk about how he nails the naive yet still wise Vision from the flashback in "Previously On" or the cold and robotic "Vision" from "The Series Finale." Bettany has range, and WandaVision is a great show that proves how. One just needs to have the right amount of vision to see it (HhhhhhhhhhhHA!)

Developing Wanda: But as great as Paul Bettany, and to a lesser extent, Vision, is, Wanda Maximoff is clearly the star of the show here (And yes, I know that it's Wanda who's the character and Elizabeth Olson is the actor, but...I'll get into it!). If WandaVision has taught me anything about these Disney+ shows, it's that we are finally going to get some long-awaited development to characters that are starved from it. And Wanda definitely needed it. Don't get me wrong, Wanda was great in past movies but wasn't that compelling of a character. Here, trust me when I say that the opposite is true. 

We are given a deep dive into not only Wanda's morality but also her psyche. The writers really play around with how scary Wanda can be. As well as questioning if Wanda has the capability of being evil. Because, yeah, what she did was not right. True, our "heroine" was going through some rough s**t, but that doesn't excuse the amount of torture Wanda put the people of Westview through, no matter how unwittingly. Just look at that scene where everyone grills Wanda about what she's doing to them, not only pleading for whatever compromise they can get and even begging for her to kill them instead. That is dark! That is the darkest concept the MCU has ever offered, and the ending of Avengers: Infinity War exists!

But, while it doesn't entirely excuse everything, there is a reason why Wanda did all of this. You see, throughout WandaVision, Wanda goes through the five stages of grief. It all starts with denial as she pretends to live in a sitcom that she created where Vision is alive, and they get to even have kids together. Soon comes anger when she destroys anything and physically harms anyone that tries to bring her back to reality. Next, there's bargaining as Wanda strengthens her hex and expands it to keep outsiders out and keep Vision in. This leads to depression as the weight of all of Wanda's actions finally sinks in, and she's forced to realize the damage she's causing. Until all of it ends with acceptance, as Wanda finally, finally, gets to say goodbye to Vision. Something she never really got when Thanos ripped the mind stone out of Vision's forehead. It's both incredible to watch as it is fascinating. Wanda, through the course of her own little spin-off series, just went from a decent character to one of the most intriguing to dissect in the MCU. And we have this show to thank for it.

The Commercials: These commercials offer three things.

They're more homages to classic television, each product and filming for each one honoring how commercials looked in each era.

They offer more of an insight into Wanda's psyche as we see how each commercial shows bits of her history, regrets, and deepest desires. You see all of the above in the Lagos' paper towel commercial.

There are neat bits of foreshadowing of what's to come, like how Hydra Soak ends by saying it's for "your inner goddess" or how the 90s commercial ends by saying Magic isn't meant for the weak.

With all of that, these commercials are as fun to analyze as they are disturbing as hell.

The Dinner Scene: This was the moment it was clear that WandaVision wasn’t going to just be fun and games. The second that "Mr. Heart" starts screaming at Wanda about why she and Vision came, it becomes clear that the whole wacky scenario our heroes are in isn't as harmless as we all thought. And when "Mrs. Heart" playfully tells her husband to stop it when “Mr. Heart” starts choking, only to desperately scream at Wanda to stop it, audiences begin to piece together that the people of Westview are prisoners--no--victims. As for Wanda? She's the unknowing dictator forcing them to do what she says. And it was this scene that I knew I was going to really enjoy this show.

The Blip Scene: And it was this scene that made WandaVision skyrocket into top-tier MCU territory! As much as I love Spider-Man: Far From Home, I will admit that making a joke with the concept of something like the blip might not have been the best move. But showing the chaos of everyone coming back all at once? On top of showing the confusion that a person would have from being told that a five-second nap was five years? Yeah, that's more in line with what we want.

Returning Characters: Not only was I surprised by the fact that these pretty minor characters in the MCU made a return at all, but I was also shocked to find out they work better in this series than they did in their respective movies. First, there's Monica. Not only is she reintroduced as a brand new hero (with, admittingly, confusing superpowers), but she also works as the anti-Wanda. Both characters had someone they care about dearly die without getting a chance to say goodbye. The difference is that Monica doesn't have the abilities Wanda does and is instead forced to quickly accept that her mom is dead and won't come back. She even admits that she would bring her mom back if she could. But that just makes Monica the perfect person that Wanda needs. A person that understands where she's coming from and tries to convince Wanda to do the right thing, no matter how hard it is. Monica's methods may have been a tad bit sloppy, but she is still ten times more intriguing than that little girl who screwed around with the color scheme on Captain Marvel’s suit.

Then there's Jimmy Woo, who is both funnier here than in Ant-Man and the Wasp, and actually shows signs of being a competent FBI agent. A step up, I might add, from the hilariously incompetent character we saw in his previous appearance.

And also, Darcie is here...and still slightly annoying...but at least she still has a couple funny lines here and there! Which is more than I can say with Thor and Thor: The Dark World.

In my opinion, it's a good move having these characters with pretty small roles in vastly different stories make a return. It shows that they are not limited to their one little corner of the MCU. And that they can branch off into taller tales that suit them perfectly. It's pretty cool, and it makes me wonder what other small characters could make a triumphant return.

Billy and Tommy: These two are...fine. Billy and Tommy give me Zach and Cody vibes sometimes, the kids playing them do a decent job, and they both offer some great emotional moments. The problem is that out of the list of characters that WandaVision introduces and reintroduces, there's not much to talk about with Billy and Tommy. Honestly, the only reason why I briefly mentioned that I like them is that I don't want dozens of people crucifying me for not saying anything about them. I don't hate them, but I don't much care for them either.

Evan Peters as Quicksilver: Although I would have loved it if it was Aaron Taylor-Johnson who made a return, seeing Evan Peters in a good Marvel movie again is more than worth it. He plays a much more fun version of Quicksilver while still nailing the sibling relationship the character has with Wanda. In a way, it's a lot like how Marvel cast J.K. Simmons as J Jonah Jameson at the end of Spider-Man: Far From Home. It's admitting that no one could have played the character better than this one actor and briefly making fans happy in the process. While also not doing something crazy like having it be the exact same Quicksilver from the X-Men movies. Only f**king idiots would believe something like that...

...

...But hypothetically speaking, let's say some people were stupid to believe that. While making an outrageous claim that the writers "lead them on to doing so." In which case, I will say the same thing that one would say when friend-zoning someone: "Nobody led you on to s**t. You were just too busy focusing on what you wanted to see instead of what you needed to see."

Because there was no evidence that it was the same Quicksilver other than the fact that it was the same actor. And, hypothetically speaking, if there were dozens of crybabies who were upset about it not being the same Quicksilver, then I have so much more respect for this character being nothing more than a boner joke. Because you did this to yourselves...hypothetically speaking.

Retconning Wanda’s Powers: ...I'm ok with this. Retcons happen all the time in the comics, as well as in movies and television. It's just a matter of making the retcon believable enough where there are few holes in what you're telling people. As for Wanda apparently having magic this entire time, but the mind stone amplified her powers? I can buy that. Besides, it's an acceptable excuse to make Wanda as powerful as she is in the comics (from what I've been told), so like I said, I'm ok with this.

“I can’t feel you…”: ...That's fine. I didn't need my heart anyway.

“Vision’s” Talk with “Vision”: Forget the horrible CGIed battles. I want more of this!

Now, I put both Visions in quotation marks because while they're both the same character, they're also...not the same. Which is, funnily enough, what this scene is: A philosophical discussion between two versions of the same android about what makes them both/neither the definitive version. One may look the same, and the other may be the same body, but neither "Vision" really is the true Vision. However, the fact that these two stop their fighting so they can have this discussion in the first place helps secure that while different, they are still the same. It's a thought-provoking discussion, and it is ten times more interesting to watch than Wanda and Agatha's CGI fight in the sky. Although it is kind of odd that White-Vision just peaces out the second Hex-Vision gives him a reboot. But hey, that's for the future movies to deal with.

“Thank you for choosing me to be your mom.”: >Deep inhale<...Girl.

Wanda Saying Goodbye to Vision: >DEEPER INHALE< HOOOOOOOOOOO BOY! I did not expect this much emotional turmoil from f**king WANDAVISION!

Joking aside, this is a well-handled scene. It's incredibly emotional to see these two characters say goodbye to each other as their arcs come to a close. "Vision" peacefully leaves knowing who he is in the world, and Wanda can finally start moving on as she gets to say goodbye to her one true love. It's as bittersweet as it is beautiful.

WHAT I DISLIKE

MCU logos flashing in every episode: You know how CinemaSins has this bulls**t excuse about how the MCU opening logo wastes time to get to the good stuff? This is the only instance where that's applicable. Because the opening logo was cool to see again for the first episode, but having it play in every single one after breaks the immersion when trying to binge the series. It's for a couple of seconds, sure, but after a while, it does get pretty annoying.

Elizabeth Olson as Scarlet Witch: Now, to be clear, I have no problems with Elizabeth Olson's acting ability in this series. She juggles being funny, heartbreaking, and threatening so well that I am likely to laugh and cry with her as I am to s**t my pants while in her presence. Elizabeth Olson does a great job with this character. The problem? Well, in the comics, Wanda Maximoff is Roma, and Elizabeth Olson...isn't. This means that WandaVision, and the MCU as a whole, has a bad case of white-washing.

I could go on about the issues this brings, but I am not as educated about this subject, and all I know is just stuff that seems like common sense. For instance, I believe it is more than reasonable to hire an actor of a specific race or ethnicity for a character who is of a that same race or ethnicity. But that is as far as my knowledge and personal stance goes, and to expand on it would be too much of a risk because I have no right to criticize the representation of something I am not a part of. So instead, I'm going to point you to @earnestdesire‘s blog and Jessica Reidy’s article on the subject. They do a great job at discussing the issues with Olson’s Wanda and pointing to the issues the MCU has in representing Wanda and Pietro's representation in the comics. And they do it in a far better way than I ever could have. So check them out to truly see why, despite doing a great job, Elizabeth Olson should not be the person donning the suit.

It Was Agatha All Along: AND I STILL F**KING HATE THAT!

I know, I know, I am in the minority on this one. And I still don't understand why! To me, Agatha has all of the problems that Hans has in Frozen. Sure, there are hints if you pay more attention during a few select scenes that are slightly questionable. Like how she refers to Wanda as "the star of the show" or coincidentally shows up with a dog house for Sparky. However, much like how Frozen didn't need a villain like Hans, WandaVision didn't need a comic book villain like Agatha. The story was perfectly passable as a personal conflict involving Wanda's grief where the only obstacle was the director of S.W.O.R.D. and his agents. There is nothing Agatha adds to that.

"But she helps Wanda find out what happens!" Yeah, but Monica could have done the same thing by actually breaking through to Wanda and calmly asking what happened. From then on, they could have worked things out together by having Wanda retrace events that transpired through the information that Monica knows as well.

"But Agatha helps Wanda realize what she's doing is wrong!" So could Vision! He could have shown up, did that mind-meld thing to the townspeople, and Wanda would finally learn what she was doing was wrong through the person she trusts the most.

"But Agatha helps Wanda learn that she's the Scarlet Witch!" Ok...but did that need to happen in this series? Because when you think about it, when the central conflict is all about exploring Wanda's grief, throwing in this narrative about becoming the Scarlet Witch has little to do with anything. Meaning that if you cut it from the story, little would change other than cutting a CGI battle that everyone agrees is the worst part of the series.

The most Agatha adds to the story is a secondary conflict that could easily be cut, and the overall quality would stay the same, if not better. And that is a problem. Agatha needs to add to the central conflict in a way that no other character could have. Like, give her a reason to be involved in Wanda’s life that goes beyond feeding off her magic and leading Wanda to her destiny. Because as is, even if you argue that Agatha is a good twist villain, she's a villain that really didn't need to be here.

Director Haywood: But as much as I don't like Agatha, I think we can all agree that Director Haywood is the worst villain in the MCU. Because one issue that Haywood has is a lack of motivation. For instance, why does he try so hard to write off Wanda as this supervillain? It was never explained, and for something so bizarre and crucial to his character, I feel like it needed to be. It would be passable if he was motivated out of fear and ignorance, but Haywood goes so far as to misedit security footage to prove his point. And I don't get why.

Is he sexist?

Did Wanda not show up at his kid's birthday party?

Did he secretly want to use Vision as a sexbot and didn't want Wanda to get between them?

I don't know, and I'll never know.

Plus, on top of having no motivation, Haywood is just forgettable. Agatha may piss me off to no end, but at least I'll remember her. I honestly forgot Haywood's name half the time, and I'm willing to bet that you did too. Case in point, his name isn't even Haywood. It's Hayward. And in the off chance that you didn't even know about that misspelling just proves my point about how forgettable Hayward is. While it's one thing to be hated, it's another to be forgotten. Because that just means that you left so little impact that you aren't even worth getting upset about.

------

And that is what I thought about WandaVision. If I had to base this off my usual score, I'd have to give the show the same 7/10 that everyone else gave it. Because there's a lot that I love, but the stuff that I hate is so problematic that it takes the WandaVision down on a couple of notches. It's still a fantastic series with a solid story, a great message, incredible acting, and phenomenal character development. It's just that not everyone is going to be willing to tune in as much as you might think.

[txylorwrjtes]

I’ve got you, sweetheart: Part 4

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warning(s): Mentions of abuse, angst, little bit of fluff, reader has brain damage, self hatred, self doubt

Character(s): Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Y/N Y/L/N, Castiel Novak

Summary: Your mother marries an extremely abusive man, who abuses you to the point you get brain damage. You have a hard time with speech and learning all of the things you already learned before, but you have Dean by your side to help you every step of the way.

Word count: 1,934

Previous part || I’ve got you, sweetheart masterlist

One nightmare. All it took was one nightmare to keep Dean awake. He thought that with you being in a much safer place now, everything would be okay. That he would be okay. But that wasn't the case.

Looking over to the right, he realized that he had only slept for a couple of hours after taking notice that the time was just a few minutes past one. He let out a soft groan as he shifted his body around to face you. It was dark, but Dean could tell that you were still asleep by the soft snores that came from you, something that should've given him enough comfort to fall back asleep again, he the man knew without a drink he wasn't going to be able to.

Dean did his best not to wake you as he sat himself up and pushed the covers off of his body, and when he had finally got up onto his feet, he slowly walked over to the door. He kept his arm stretched out so that he wouldn't accidentally bump into anything on the way. There wasn't a window, so no moonlight was shining into the room just to help the man see where everything was and he knew that it'd wake you if he had turned on the lamp that was settled on top of the nightstand.

But he managed. When he had got to the door, he opened it up just enough to slip himself out of the room and into the hallway. He shut the door quietly, before walking further down the hall and straight to the kitchen, where as he inched closer, he found himself growing rather confused when he noticed that the light was on.

He didn't expect anybody to be awake at this hour, especially his little brother, considering how he was an early bird and due to that, he liked to get to sleep earlier. But when Dean stepped into the room, he saw that Sam was sat down at the table with his laptop, a few tabs of different articles were open.

The younger man let his gaze drift away from the screen for a moment and upwards when he heard a pair of footsteps trudging their way into the room. After realizing that it was just his brother, he focused his attention back onto the article he was currently reading; something about how a married couple and their two young children were simply enjoying a camping trip up in Nebraska, but things quickly turned south when the kids went missing and their parents hearts were ripped out. Police say it was an animal attack, but Sam knew it was something else.

"Hey." Dean was the first one to speak up, breaking the silence that was lingering in the air. "What are you doing up?" He asked, making his way to the fridge to get out a bottle of beer. As he did, he couldn't help but take a quick glance at what Sam was looking at. But from where he was standing, he couldn't really see anything.

"I couldn't sleep." Sam mumbled, shutting his laptop to focus on his brother, who was now making his way over to the table. He watched as Dean popped off of the lid of his bottle before taking a long swing. "I was, uh.. worried about Y/N. I didn't realize how bad her condition was until she tried talking earlier." He admitted. "What about you?"

Dean brought the beer back down to the table and reached a hand up to run it down his face, a heavy sigh escaping past his lips. "I was asleep for a couple of hours, but I had a nightmare, so.. here I am." He finally said after a while, dropping his hand down to wrap it around the bottle. "I honestly thought things would get better now that she's here and safe, but I can't stop imagining what Paul did to her and how her own mother didn't even try to stop it."

"I can't either.." Sam admitted to his brother.

"I don't know, man." Dean mumbled, shaking his head as he picked at the label on the beer bottle. It was something he got a habit of doing any time he was feeling nervous or down. "I feel like if I hadn't been such a coward and just fought to stay so that Y/N and I could've gotten her shit packed up, she wouldn't be in this situation right now."

"Dean, you would've gone to jail if you had stayed." Sam tried to be the voice of reason, but his brother only let out a scoff, shaking his head as he brought the beer back up to his lips so he could take another drink. "Can you imagine someone who passed off as this sweet, religious man who everybody in town just thinks he could do no wrong because of the clothes he wears and a woman who would do anything to protect her husband telling the cops that you, Dean Winchester, was beating up your own girlfriend? In case you don't remember, we don't exactly have a great history with the law. You would be in jail and Y/N would still be in an unsafe house."

Dean took a moment to let what his brother was saying sink into his mind. He knew that he was right, you would still be stuck in that house with nobody to get you out of there. And you having brain damage would've been the least of his worries. That bastard could've killed you.

Nodding his head, he silently agreed with his brother before pointing over to the closed laptop. "What were you looking at when I came in?" He questioned in a curious tone.

"Uh.." Sam almost forgot about the case that had caught his interest. He propped his laptop back open, bringing the articles he had found back up before turning it around to show the man sitting across from him. "A married couple enjoying a camping trip with their kids ended up getting their hearts ripped out. The kids on the other hand.."

"Went missing." Dean finished his brother's sentence when his words had trailed off, he managed to figure it out after skimming through the article. "Must be a werewolf, you and mom should go check it out."

"Yeah, totally. I'll talk to her about it in the morning." Sam agreed, nodding his head. And before he could stop himself, he couldn't help but ask, "Do you want to come with us?"

Dean's eyes glanced up from the laptop screen to stare at the younger man, giving him a look that practically said he should've known better. "I would and you know that, but I've got Y/N to take care. And I'm going to need a break from hunting for a while." He said. "You and mom can handle this, and if you really need help call for Cas."

Sam nodded his head in understandment, mentally smacking himself for being so stupid for asking the question. He didn't say anything else as he turned the laptop back to him to further his research on this case. Meanwhile, Dean downed the rest of his beer before standing up and heading over to the trash can, where he tossed the bottle. He went to walk out, but stopped in his tracks to take a look back at his brother.

He could see a hint of sadness in the younger man's facial expressions, but the vibe that he was giving off the most was genuine concern. Letting out a sigh, Dean made his way back to Sam and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into a gentle hug. "There's a lot of what if questions running through my mind right now, but one question that I know the answer to is that Y/N will be okay." He reassured him. "Stay safe when you go out there."

Sam nodded his head again, and for the first time since everything with your stepfather had gone down, his eyes teared up. "I will." He muttered out a promise.

With that, Dean let him go and walked out of the kitchen, and began making his way back to bed.

~~~

Even after he had fallen asleep an hour after waking up from that nightmare, Dean was still the first to wake up when morning came around. You weren't able wake up until around two in the afternoon, which left your boyfriend to keep coming in to make sure that you were still breathing. He'd wake you, but with how much your head must've still been hurting, he decided against it.

But when Dean came in for a fourth time, that's when you had waken up. And no, it wasn't because of him, it was because of that damn angel who constantly thinks it'd be okay to pop into a room without warning.

Dean found himself jumping backwards when he took notice of the all too familiar figure. And it wasn't long until he found himself getting annoyed. "Damn it, Cas!" He hissed out in a whispered tone, not wanting to wake you. "Not only are you scaring the living hell out of me, but you're spying on my girlfriend while she's sleeping? That's too much."

"I'm sorry, Dean." Castiel said in a loud enough voice to wake you. "I just wanted to make sure how she was doing."

"Dude, be quiet." Dean tried to shush the angel, but to his dismay, it was too late. You stirred around in the bed, letting out a tired groan before finally opening up your eyes. You looked around the room to see the both men standing still and staring at you. You could feel your stomach growling in hunger as you reached an arm up to place a hand on your head, a pitiful whimper escaping past your lips when you could feel the dull ache coming back to you. "Great. Just, great." Dean muttered in annoyance, throwing daggers to Castiel. "This is so.. great. She was really peaceful sleeping and now that she's awake she's feeling pain, thanks to you."

"I'm sorry, Dean.." The angel apologized once more, but what he said next annoyed the Winchester even more. "But I really think you get some food made for her. Unless it was a bear in her stomach, I think she's hungry."

"Awe, really? I didn't notice." Dean let his sarcasm shine through for just a moment, before motioning with his hand for the angel to go away. "Away with you." That was enough of a sign for the angel to know that he wasn't wanted around at the moment. When Castiel vanished from sight, Dean stepped over to the bed and sat himself down onto it, a loving smile stretched across his lips when he was able to focus his attention onto you. "Good morning, sweetheart."

"G-.." You started to say good morning back to the man, but after the first failed attempt, you decided to stop trying. Instead, you snuggled back under the covers and turned onto your side. The fact you were having a hard time with your speech was beginning to take a toll on you.

Dean let a frown stretch across his lips and crawled right up next to you. He brought his hand up to your head to give it a gentle massage, before leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead.  He let them linger there for a moment as he thought of all the possible ways to help you with your speech.

~~~

Next part || I’ve got you, sweetheart masterlist

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[bxllafanficc]

What lies within our voice

Part one.

Summary: The hottest current singing competition in your country; Beyond The Voice, is taking contestants for this years new season. And you’re competing, something you’ve dreamed of since you were a little kid. Your best friend Natasha joins you on your audition day with the assurance that everything’s going to go just as planned. As in; you preform, get all the standing ovations from the jury and then you go out to celebrate. But it doesn’t quite work like that, does it? Especially not when a handsome blue eyed singer with angelic pipes (and dare I say, jackass?) enters the competition and gives you some serious problems; both on a competitive and on a personal level.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: implied smut, smut later on as the story progresses, Bucky’s kind of a prick at first glance, Natasha being cringeworthy,

Anyone will have to believe you when you say that you’re meant for this.

“Girl, you’re going to kill this! You’re the best singer here. The judges will find you irresistible!”

The stage and the cheer of a crowd is where you feel at home. Like you could do anything you put your mind to. If you only got the chance to show the world what you got to offer. That you belong on stage, to please a crowd.

That’s why you’re here. At the large entrance hall of the largest arena in your country, ready to perform your heart out at this years season of the hottest contest currently in the making; Beyond The Voice. The competition that will be your awakening as the artist you’ve dreamed to be for so long. Because already as a little girl, you used to sit in front of the tv with your best friend since diapers; Natasha. And oh, how you loved B.T.V. From the first season ever all the way to where you’re standing now. Here, ready to be a part of something you’ve set as a goal since years back. And so you have come here and along with you, brought your best friend so that you can live the dream together now all grown up.

“I have a hard time believing that, Nat. There are so many talented and attractive people here who want this too. And I don’t doubt for a second that there will be a lot of people putting on their best efforts here tonight.”

You scan the large groups of people in the hall, some pacing around nervously, others sitting down on benches and some awkwardly attempting to put on their best sides of themselves as the camera team sneaks through the crowds to shoot some interviews with the contestants.

The camera team has already been filming their interview with you, and if you should say it yourself, you had done the best possible out of the situation. To be yourself. No faces and no strained jokes, just plain you, unlike some of the other contestants you had seen earlier who seemingly failed to acknowledge the fabric of their shirt hiding their cleavage noticeably sliding down their shoulders until the producers felt the urge to cut because they ‘would need to censor that out’ somehow.

“Puh-lease! No one wants this as much as you do. And sure, there may be great singers here today, but no one has the pure and raw talent like you. Most of the people we’ve seen so far is clearly showing in their voices that they’ve taken dozens of singing lessons, and some not at all. Everyone here started out as a rookie but not you. You were born with it. I can confirm since I’ve known you so long. See, the only other people here skilled enough to put you up for a challenge is that guy performing for the jury right now. Look! He’s like the hunkier more brooding version of Josh Groban!”

You look towards the big screen displaying everything that’s going on in the auditions room. Right now there’s a guy in a deep blue suit performing “Being alive” originally sung by Stephen Sondheim from the musical Company; a classic and and a regularity when it comes to audition songs. Not a choice you would’ve gone with because of everyone before this man who’s chosen the song on previous seasons of Behind The Voice. But maybe his choice might just make this performance a success. That voice is unlike any other contestant you’ve seen today and those blue eyes are definitely moneymakers on their own. A handsome man to be sure, Nat wasn’t joking around with her comparison. And the look on the female judges faces reveals that the sexy mysterious persona he’s putting on is working its magic on them.

“Make me confused, mock me with praise. Let me be used, vary me days.”

“Goodness, that vibrato is to die for! There’s no effort displayed on his face what so ever and completely free from strained vocals or any muffled sounds from accidentally switching back to using his nose as support!”

“Right?! Maybe he’s good enough for my best gal right here? Why don’t you give it a try?” Nat elbows you and makes a rather inappropriate finger motion with her hands as her eyebrow raises and sinks in a provocative manner.

You quickly squeal with disapproval at her and slap her hands away, afraid that someone in the hall, or worse, the camera crew, had caught her little message.

“You know I’m too busy with focusing on my career for that kind of stuff. And he’s most likely to be my most skilled rival so far!”

“Somebody crowd me with love, somebody force me to care. Somebody let me come through, I’ll always be there, as frightened as you, to help us survive...”

The song finishes and the crowd in the hall is overwhelming with cheers and blowing whistles. It’s four yes out of four possible from the jury; a crystal clear win.

The man who just performed and the jury can clearly hear the crowd’s chanting from inside the studio, because everyone is glancing at the door with a low snicker.

“Next up, contestant #70!” One of the managers shouts from an opened door in the hall.

Your number is #71, which means your up after the shocked young girl beside you who were too caught up in the man singing just now that she completely forgot to prepare herself.

You stand up as well and make your way towards the door leading into the corridors of the audition’s studio, just to prepare yourself a little extra. Nat follows along and whispers encouraging nothings into your ear. She pats your shoulder and bumps into your crimson colored les paul hanging strapped inside its case on your back.

Right, you failed to mention your own audition song in the interview (and the genre you’ll be singing.)

You like to label yourself as a rock singer who also plays the electric guitar in the songs you perform. So you’ve carefully chosen the song “Anastasia” made by Slash, Myles Kennedy and The Conspirators. You’ve requested the assigned go-to band for this song because it simply can’t be done by just a guitar and a voice. Your song of choice is also going to give the judges the full feeling of how a concert later on with you as their star would look like. The vocals are great, showing off a lot of control but not too complicated so there’s room enough to blow the crowd and judge’s minds later on in the competition. The guitar isn’t essential for a singing competition like this but to aggregate with playing the guitar and singing at the time always gain some extra points since the judges will understand that your multitasking abilities will come in handy if and when a casual error or scene malfunction occurs in the life as an artist.

Of course you sing other genres as expected from you in this competition, but rock will forever be your go-to genre if you’re out to bedazzle the crowd or just want to dance your heart out in the living room (aggressive head banging is included).

But in your current situation, you had been so caught up in your own plans and preparation that you failed to acknowledge the man standing in front of you until it’s too late and you bump into something broad and rock hard.

The stranger gets pushed forwards and his friend catches him before he tumbles too far. A pair of blue eyes turns around to glare at you with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m so sorry! I was just-“ You stop and silence yourself. It’s the previous contestant with the angelic voice; and he does not look pleased.

“Shouldn’t a person competing in such a high prestige competition be aware of their surroundings always and watch where they’re going?” The man speaks up and turns to face you entirely, his blonde friend standing right beside him. Nat comes to join your side when she senses the tension going on.

“I... excuse me, I was just so caught up in my on thoughts that I didn’t notice you. People make mistakes and I’m sorry. It’s not that big of a deal.”

You fold your arms and try to flash a genuine smile at the stranger but he doesn’t seem affected by your words.

“So you’re a little self absorbed, you say? That’s not a personality trait I would go with in a competitive area like this but you do you, I guess.”

Is this man for real? He seemed like such a genuine and open guy when he sang but now when he’s in front of you, he’s just an asshole. Guess that’s what they call on point stage presence then.

“Hey now handsome, Aren’t you being a little rude to my friend? It was actually nothing more than a simple mistake. There’s nothing to feel personal about if your feelings got hurt. Happens to anybody.” Nat joins in and defends you, but she’s not paying attention to the blue eyed prick in front of her, but she’s eying the tall blondie beside him with careful eyes.

“Yeah, whatever.” The man answers with a huff and leaves, his friend following right behind him. As you watch them go, Blondie seemingly scolds his friend about something, though you never catch the response of your now-rival.

“Well that’s a waste. A beautiful brunette with magical eyes but on the inside he’s just a bastard with low-dick-energy.” Nat mumbles and snorts, pushing you towards the corridors you originally planned to make your way to. You giggle in response and bite your lip.

“With an attitude like that to a lady, he couldn’t possibly afford having a small dick, Nat. It must be pretty huge if it’s gonna make up for his frame of mind.”

Well, at least it’s not a must to befriend the other contestants, because then you would be forced into some kind of team building exercise with Mr. Jackass. The last thing you needed right now was excessive negativity in your life.

“Yeah, you go (Y/n)! Dab on them haters!” Nat yells and proceeds to do the dabbing motion with a cheerful expression.

The crowds standing near the two of you suddenly fall silent and eyes you with a judgements stare.

“Don’t you ever do that in public again or I will-“

“Contestant #71, you’re up!

The crowd stops glaring at you and shifts to clap their hands with encouragement, some even shouts stuff like ‘You can do this!’ Or ‘Go inside and kick some ass!’

You’re heart immediately takes two turns and beats like crazy in your chest; something it always does right before when you’re about to preform. Much to your gratitude, it always rolls off of you like a waterfall the second you start to sing.

‘This is your chance, (Y/n). You have to prove to everyone in the hall, to Nat, to yourself, to Jackass Ocean eyes, and most importantly the judges, that you’ve earned your right to be on this program and on television. Tonight we focus on getting the judges’ approval, tomorrow, a new goal will be set.’ The internal speech you go through with yourself echoes through your eardrums as you step into the audition’s studio and into the camera’s view.

[astrophysicist-guitar-god]

I was curious if Jimi Hendrix had ever played in Columbus, and it turns out that he did, one show in March 1968. 

I found two stories about it, one in the Columbus Dispatch marking the 50th anniversary of the show, and this one, about Hendrix hanging out with one of  the local support bands afterwards, and partying very wholesomely. 

I. Love. This.

The night Jimi Hendrix partied with the Dantes in Linden

By Eric Lyttle, Editor, Columbus Monthly

Posted Mar 3, 2018 at 1:45 PM

Fifty years ago tonight, Jimi Hendrix was sitting on the floor inside a small, nearly empty house in Linden enjoying a post-concert glass of red wine. No, not London. Linden. As in the working class neighborhood of northeast Columbus.

Lynn Wehr doesn’t remember much about the show itself. Neither does Barry Hayden. The two were members of the Dantes, arguably the most popular local band in Columbus at the time. The Dantes served as the warmup act for Hendrix that night, March 3, 1968, at Vets Memorial Auditorium on West Broad Street, just across the Scioto River from City Hall.

Wehr, now 71 and living in Delaware County as a retired T. Marzetti Co. executive, thinks he watched the flamboyant rock guitarist from the side of the stage. “I don’t even remember what he played,” says Wehr. “I remember there was a cover or two. I believe he did ‘Hang On Sloopy.’ ”

Hayden says he couldn’t even see Hendrix. “I was stage left, between the second or third curtain,” says Hayden, now 70 and retired in Powell after arranging guided tours of the Ohio Statehouse for nearly 20 years. “I had a straight-on shot of Mitch Mitchell’s kick-drum foot. It was the fastest kick-drum foot I’d ever seen,” Hayden says of the Jimi Hendrix Experience’s drummer. “I watched that all night and couldn’t believe how he did it.”

But before the show and after—that they both remember.

Before the show, all the bands on the bill—including Soft Machine, progenitors of England’s prog-rock scene, and Four O’Clock Balloon, another local Columbus favorite—shared the same dressing room. Hayden, the Dantes’ boyish, blond heartthrob of a lead singer, remembers that he wore a silk scarf around his neck that night. When Hendrix entered the dressing room, he, too, was wearing a scarf. “But it was tied differently,” Hayden says. “I kept looking at it, trying to figure it out. I finally went over to him and asked him about it. He says, ‘You’re tying it like an American ties it.’ I did the crossover thing, like a necktie. He says, ‘Let me show you how the British tie it.’ And he showed me. And I tied it like Jimi forever after that. What the hell? If Jimi Hendrix says this is the way you’re supposed to do it, that’s the way you do it. It’s not open debate.”

After the scarf-tying lesson, Wehr, the Dantes’ rhythm guitarist, remembers, “Barry said, ‘Hey, we’re having a party afterward. Would you guys like to come?’ Mitch Mitchell and [Hendrix bass player] Noel Redding immediately said, ‘No.’ But Hendrix said, ‘Yes.’ We were like, ‘Wow. OK.’ ”

After the show, Wehr arranged to pick up Hendrix at the Christopher Inn, the city’s iconic cylindrical hotel on Broad Street, where the Experience was staying, and take him back to the house on Howey Road, a couple of blocks south of Hudson Street, that the Dantes used as a party house and rehearsal space.

“We get to the Christopher Inn—I think Jack White, the drummer for Four O’Clock Balloon was with me—and it’s late, probably after midnight, and there’s one guy at the desk,” Wehr says. “We told him we were there to pick up Jimi Hendrix. Here we were, a couple of guys in polka-dot pants and long hair. I’m sure we looked like groupies. And the guy at the desk says, ‘He’s not staying here.’ But we were like, ‘Look, we just were on the show with him at Vets, we told him we’d pick him up.’ We must have been convincing enough, because the guy picks up the phone and makes a call. Then he turns around, kind of sheepish like, and tells us, ‘He’ll be right down.’ ”

“Not five minutes later, the elevator doors open and out steps Hendrix, colorful, flowing clothes, a big hat with a big feather in it, completely dressed the part,” says Wehr.

Hendrix climbed in the passenger seat of the Dantemobile, a blue Chevy Caprice station wagon with “Dantes” in letters down the side. “We started down High Street, and when we got to campus, students were still out doing their thing,” says Wehr. “Every time we’d stop at a stop light, they’d see the Dantes car, turn and look and see Hendrix sitting in the passenger seat, and start running. The light would change and I’d speed away before they could catch us, until the next light, and the same thing would happen. We were like the Pied Piper, with kids running after us down High Street.”

The Dantes’ Howey Street house wasn’t much—nothing but a few mattresses thrown on the floor, egg cartons stapled to the walls of the basement to help muffle the sound during rehearsals. “We basically had nothing to offer him,” says Wehr. “We asked what he’d like, and he said he’d enjoy a glass of red wine. We all kind of looked at each other and thought, ‘What do we do now?’ Fortunately, one of the girls there said she lived close and could get a bottle. In short order, she came back with a bottle that she probably took from her parents. We sat around on the floor and talked and drank the bottle.”

“There were no drugs of any kind, nothing crazy,” Wehr says. “He was really soft-spoken, nice, mild-mannered—nothing like the guitar-burning wild man you’d see on stage. I think we just talked about music. He wasn’t put out. I think he genuinely wanted to be there. It was a scene.”

“After about an hour or so, he says, ‘Hey, I’ve really enjoyed being with you guys but have to get up early,’ ” Wehr says. “I think he had a gig in New York the next day. So we got in the car and I drove him back to the Christopher Inn.”

Both Wehr and Hayden say there was no idol worship—no photos, no autographs. They weren’t starry-eyed teens. They were in their early 20s, only a couple of years younger than Hendrix. They’d opened for other big names, had toured the country and had enjoyed their share of success. Their first single, “Can’t Get Enough of Your Love,” had cracked the Billboard Top 40 nationally and had become the No. 1 song in the Columbus market in 1966, pushing ”(You’re My) Soul and Inspiration” by the Righteous Brothers off the mark.

“I looked at it like we were all peers,” says Hayden. “It was another gig. We were happy about it for sure, because we liked him. But we basically had the same clothes, the same gear.”

They thought it would last forever. It didn’t. Within two years, Hendrix was dead of an overdose, and the Dantes were done. “I realize now, in later years, it was a big deal. It’s cool. I’m glad I get to talk about it now,” says Hayden. “But I miss it. It’s not the same now as it was. I liked it better then. I feel bad for anybody who didn’t grow up when we did. Being a teenager was just about the best thing you could be. We ruled. To be truthful, if you brought a time machine to my house, I’d set it for 1964 and leave right now.”

I wanted to include a link to the venue, but the old Vet’s Memorial has since been demolished to make way for a brand new national Vet’s museum on the same spot, and that’s mostly what I’m finding. But! Here’s an interesting article (with a picture) about the politics behind tearing down what was a pretty major landmark in Columbus to make way for the new building.

And! To make a long post longer, the shows before and after Columbus on that tour; from setlist.fm:

March 2, 1968: Hunter College Assembly Hall, New York, NY (two shows)

March 3, 1968: Veterans Memorial Auditorium, Columbus, OH

March 4, 1968:  Paul's The Scene, New York, NY

March 5, 1968:  Paul's The Scene, New York, NY

Looking over his entire concert schedule, he must have been exhausted. I hope he enjoyed hanging out with a local band for a little while, just drinking a little wine and talking. He probably needed it. :-(

[popculturebuffet]

Paul Dini’s Jingle Belle: “Sanity Clauses” review or Santa’s Court Ordered Family Therapy Holiday Special

Merry Christmas everyone! I”m finally back on the reviewing reindeer after a week out with a cold, aside from the usual ducktales review, and it’s once again a comission from friend of the blog and the only guy who pays me for reviews weirdkev27. If you have your own holliday hyjinks you’d like me to review I do reviews of television and comics for 5 dollars an episode/issue, wtih variable prices for trades in comics case depending on length. Hit me up via my dm’s here on tumblr or send me an ask for my discord if you want to know more. WIth that plug out of the way away we go.  This one was a bit unusual... in that when Kev bought it up I assumed he was going to buy a few issues of Jingle Belle, Paul Dini’s creator owned character we’re talking about today, and just have me review those. What I didn’t realize is he was buying me the full package, a collection of pretty much every jingle belle tale, as well as the released after it “Handmade’s Tale”. one shot. So yeah, while I had’nt really thought of rules for this kind of thing before from now on your free to buy a work for me to review... just keep in mind i’ts both not required for me to review something, and will not wave the commission fee as I use those fees to pay bills, buy things I need like charger cables, and just generally keep my bank account afloat while I look for a day job. 

But... since I hadn’t firmly established any of this yet, and since Kev’s gift means a bunch more commissions from a guy who not only made sure I could afford Christmas, but who has provided me steady work while i’m out of work... this one’s on the house.  So with all the jargon settled, who is Jingle Belle? Jingle Belle is an indie comics character created and owned by Paul Dini in 1998. Paul Dini is an animation god, who thanks to this review I know more about his career than I did before and as much as I always should have. Dini got his start in the 80′s, writing for everything from He Man to Gary Coleman Adventures, before getting called up to the big leagues for Tiny Tune Adventures around the time of the animation renaissance. To my shock, as  I wasn’t aware he wrote for that fine program, he wrote 35 episodes including my personal favorite Prom-ise her Anything.  But while a talented comedy writer, his main talent would show when he moved on to Batman the Animated Series as a writer and story editor. He was one of the main creative forces along with Bruce Timm, with the two going on to make the DCAU, aka some of the best superhero shows ever made, after already making easily one of if not THE best with BTAS. And Timm’s influence showed, Co-Creating Harley Quinn with Timm, and writing the series best episode Heart of Ice, which reworked Mr Freeze from a hoaky silver age villian into the tragic and thoroughly sympathetic character he’s been since that episode. Seriously that’s another one to add to the review pile.. which is giant and sentient at this point. And seriously EVERY episode on his imdb page credits is an utter classic and one I remember fondly. The guy is one of the most talented and seemingly nicest guys in the business and both the world of batman and the world of animation owe him a LOT.  So to my surprise, I found out in the 2000′s he had a comic, Jingle Belle.. then for whatever reason just never dug into it till now. But now post digging Jingle Belle is Paul Dini’s long running series of one shots and series at various companies following the adventures of Santa’s rebellious teenage-ish daughter.. techincally she’s in the 200′s but still looks and acts like a teenager. The idea came about when he got a christmas card from Stephen Speilberg, and wondered how the kids of famous folks dealt with that and if they resented their famous fathers. And whose more famous than santa?. The series spins both out of that brilliant idea and out of Dini’s love for sunday comic strips, back when the panels were larger and creators were given more freedom to go nuts, though even today i’ve seen plenty of great stuff so it’s not all lost pauly.  So in that spirit rather than one long ongoing Jingle Belle is instead a series of one shots, stories in anthologies and what have you, one and done stories more focused on the comedy. The comic has bounced around from various publishers, starting as something pitched to Oni Press, home of Scott Pilgrim and not much else, and has bounced around various publishers since, most recently ending up at IDW, where the trade i’m reading from comes from. So how does a great concept from one of the world’s most creative minds shake out? Let’s unwrap this present and find out. 

We open with an appropriately christmasy rhymey opening as we get the story of Jingle Belle: She’s the daughter of santa claus and mrs. claus, in this case the Queen of the Elves. Which isn’t established until the next story but whatever. And as you’d expect she grew up a cheery, rosey little girl who loved helpiing dad in the workshop.. then everything changed when puberty attacked. 

As you can see Jingle is now your standard Bratty Teenage Daughter sterotype. At least in this story. See this initial story feels much like a pilot: It’s clear things aren’t ironed out 100% for the idea, and i’ts more a self contained way to get across the general idea, that being Santa has a rebellious teen daughter, via what comes off as an snl skit in comic book form. THat’s not an insult, it’s a GOOD snl skit, and I am genuinely surprised only one movie company’s attempted adapting this comic: the concept is great. I’m just letting you know what i’m working with is all. 

So naturally as a high concept comedy skit, Jing soon, after sharing some cigarettes with the local eskmo boys and accidently lighting her Reindeer’s butt on fire and wrecking her sleigh and some surrounding property, Santa is at his witt’s end and we end up in family therapy. And honestly.. Santa in a family therapists office is a great concept. IT’s why I compare it to a sketch: It’s just a simple one line proposal that’s really damn funny and really damn eye catching. It’s often REALLY hard to get a good santa parody going, so I admire how well he pulled it off here.  But what really centers it is Jing giving her side, making her a bit more than the mostly one dimensional bratty rebellious daughter she’s been pegged as. Oh sure tha’ts still mostly what she is here, I’ll leave it to later stories to flesh her out hopefully, but she gives vallid reasons WHY she acts out: She points out no one even knew Santa had a daughter, and she has no songs or specials or any of that about her. The most Santa can offer up is “Jingle Bells” because the boys say “jingle all the way”... which really, especially in 2020, just makes HIM come off worse for not only slut shaming his daughter, but that the best defense he can offer is “Well some local boys talk about how you boned them that counts right?”. 

That.. poorly aged joke aside Jingle brings up another good point on how sh’es on his shit list.. errr.. naughty list. Still a good gag. And yeah the therapist is understandably surprised Santa dosen’t give his own daughter presents, though his wife does give a valid counter to that: He has to hold a higher standard than anybody. 

And that’s why I’m really intrigued by this concept and want to read more: WE have plenty of stories about Santa’s kids, i’ll grant, from him adopting a kid like in elf, to him passing on the legacy with films like Arthur Christmas and Fred Claus, or even just films about his legacy, like the Santa Claus, aka that time Santa died and his clothes forced Tim Allen into a job he dosen’t want with weight and beard gain he didn’t ask for via yuletide mummy’s curse to become the new santa and nearly loose custody of his child. What i’m saying is the concept is inherently fascinating and The Santa Clause is deeply terrifying if you stop to think about it for two seconds.. as is the sequel what with it’s Nazi Robot Santa Claus Tim Allen. Yes really. 

But this one’s unique in that it’s not about the legacy. Oh sure Santa tries to get Jing interested, and his last attempte wound up with them having to take the bus, another great gag and i’m glossing over most because this is a very funny little comic, but the main focus is more on what kind of pressure that puts on a kid: wouldn’t you rebel too if your parents wanted you to be perfect and to follow in the family business of being basically a perfect human being? Jing herself sums it up perfectly towards the end of the story. 

Granted after a tearful hug, Jing internally says “that new snowboard is mine.. but i’ts hard not to feel that a godo chunk of this is genuine. Sure she’s playing her parents a bit but.. you’d crack too if your dad was freaking Santa. I’m really intrigued to see where this goes both comedically and character stuff wise. 

So we end on another christmasy narration bit as Belle plays good for a while, snapping only when it docent seem like she gets her snowboard. A comedy ending and an eh one. Not the best honeslty, I feel the comci would’ve been better ended just at the snowboard is mine bit, but i’ve seen worse. 

Final Thoughts: A really good story. WHile it’s rough around the edges, clearly Dini and others have buffed them out over two decades, and i’m really intrigued to see more of this this holiday season and others. Again some parts, mostly playing Jing being sexually liberated for “OH HAW HAW SHE’S A SLUT” laughs is cringe inducing, but most of the jokes have aged well and for a pilot it’s not bad. I really look forward to reading more of the character and diving into her this season and beyond. 

Until then be good to one another, have a happy holidays and always remember: There's  always another rainbow. 

[amphtaminedreams]

Filling the Met Shaped Hole (No, Not Like That): The Best Red Carpet Looks of Awards Season 2020

Hi to anyone reading,

I want to jump straight into things and ask a question. Which is the best Met Gala theme of the last 5 years and why is it Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination?

Seriously though, despite the fact that I’m not sure anything will top Heavenly Bodies with the preceding and succeeding Met Galas being relatively disappointing (the camp theme definitely could have been taken further and lets not even talk about the Comme Des Garcons disaster), I still get excited for the gala every year, staying up til whatever hour of the morning so I can see all the fashion live. Of course, it makes complete sense that this year’s event has been postponed until October given the circumstances but the chosen theme of Fashion and Duration had the potential to be quite interesting, so I hope we do eventually get to see it; whilst I don’t miss endlessly scrolling through photos of every white male celebrity wearing the exact same suit and tie to the point where fangirls claim Harry Styles to be a pioneer of breaking gender norms because he wore a pink top, I long for the days where we could all temporarily coexist in peace and harmony thanks to the internet’s collective dragging of the Kardashians for paying no attention to the theme whatsoever. We should’ve guessed life as we know it was about to be flipped on its head when they actually turned up in something interesting last year.

What I’m trying to say is that I would love nothing more than to jump back in time to when tomorrow morning’s top Google search would be best Met Gala looks, and not how many lives did Boris Johnson’s fuckery cost us today. So in honour of the lack of trivial content, I thought I’d fill the Met shaped hole in our lives (amongst many other unfilled holes; today the freezer door at work hit me on the ass whilst I was putting ice cubes out and I think for a split second I got all flushed) by putting together a collection of my personal favourite red carpet looks from this year’s awards season and their respective afterparties: the BAFTAs, Brits, Critic’s Choice Awards, Golden Globes, Oscars, SAG Awards, and the Grammys to finish with.

Enjoy!

British Academy of Film and Television Arts Award (yes, that’s the BAFTAs but I needed a longer title)

(L-R: Zoe Kravitz in Dior, Rooney Mara in Givenchy, and Scarlett Johansson in Versace)

I am a British fan of television and arts but I will gladly say it: of all the awards ceremonies, the BAFTAs is hardly the most exciting, and the red carpet even less so. As I said, lots of boring men in boring suits and middle aged women being dressed by stylists who seem to think we’re dead from the neck down by the time we hit 40 and dress us accordingly so. Any hint of a décolletage explicitly forbidden.

There were a few good looks, however. From left to right, above we have Zoe Kravitz in Dior, Rooney Mara in Givenchy and Scarlett Johansson in Versace, who looks so amazing I almost forget that 1). Versace is going down the drain and 2). Scarlett Johansson would stand in front of a forest and take the role of a tree if she could. Which, along with her whole defence of Woody Allen, is really shit-she’s genuinely great in Marriage Story and an otherwise talented actress. As for Zoe Kravitz, she is up there with Robert Pattison as one of my biggest crushes right now and looks amazing in literally everything she wears, and Rooney Mara is consistently low-key yet elegantly dressed. 

(L-R: Greta Gerwig in Gucci, Florence Pugh in Dries Van Noten, Renee Zellweger in Prada)

Renee Zellweger proved an exception to the rule when it came to women over the age of 40 generally having clueless stylists-her dress is beautiful, very reminiscent of the delicate, demure beauty of 50s icons such as Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn. Florence’s dress, I actually really loved. It didn’t seem to go down all too well with actual Florence Pugh fans but red and pink together is an elite combo; I’m still firmly on the “surprised that it works but I’m into it” train. I mainly included Greta’s dress for the green velvet, to be honest; it’s disappointingly low-key for Gucci but nice enough all the same.

(L-R: Andrew Scott in Paul Smith, Charlize Theron in Dior, Daisy Ridley in Oscar de la Renta, and Emilia Clarke in Schiaparelli)

I was particularly excited to see Emilia Clarke in Schiaparelli-yes, I adore her because she played Daenerys Targaryen and I was ride or die for that bitch but also whenever I see her interviewed she has the most exuberant energy and honestly I want to be best friends. It’s not the most interesting dress Schiaparelli has ever put out there, but I like the fact that she went for something unique all the same.

Forest green is a colour I find hard to resist which is why I included Andrew Scott’s otherwise kinda basic suit (points for it being velvet) and Daisy Ridley in Oscar de la Renta. As elegant as the dress is, I would love for her stylist to have really leaned into the forest nymph vibes I’m getting and do something a bit less uptight with the hair and makeup; like imagine loose curls with tiny braids and hair rings and a dark lip and a slight smoke around the eye and...yes, I have very specific visions, I know. As for Charlize Theron, her work with Dior is the only reason I care about the brand; there’s definitely a case to be made here for giving Maria Grazia the benefit of the doubt, assuming that she tries all the prototypes on women who look like Charlize and that that’s why she’s happy to send dresses that are otherwise relatively underwhelming down the runway. 

The Brit Awards

(L-R: Charli XCX in Fendi, Ellie Goulding in Koche, Hailee Steinfeld in Fendi, and Harry Styles in Gucci)

In my opinion a much better reflection of quintessential British style than the BAFTAs, I originally ruled out including any music award ceremony red carpets in this post until I saw Maya Jama and Charli XCX’s looks. Consider me pleasantly surprised by Hailee Steinfeld’s cobalt blue burnout dress, a classic incarnation of the regal bohemian aesthetic Fendi channelled in their 2019 haute couture show. Plus Charli’s emo take on Glinda the Good Witch is also Fendi, driving home for me just how much I love their collections. I don’t know if I’d be sure about Ellie Goulding’s dress on the rack but the simple styling makes it work and she looks gorgeous, and Harry Styles looks just as pretty in a Gucci look that is MADE for him.

(L-R: Adwoah Aboah in Vivienne Westwood, Celeste in Gucci on the far right! I’m not sure who the guy in the middle is, I’m sorry and if anybody knows drop me a message and I will correct this immediately!)

Unfortunately, Harry Styles and Celeste didn’t get to pose together because this is really a perfect his and hers Gucci look; I feel like seeing one outfit next to the other would really highlight the quirky elegance of each. That being said, it feels criminal to talk about elegance without including Adwoah Aboah in Vivienne Westwood in the sentence; the dress is obviously stunning quality on its own merit, but Adwoah is what elevates it from unremarkable to ethereal. Fuck the weird ass knight figure that’s currently on top of the Brit Award, this woman is the definition of statuesque! Put her on top of the trophy you cowards!

And just to get it out of the way, when it comes to the guy in the middle, to quote Keke Palmer:

Sorry to this man.

Honestly, I saved all the red carpet photos from a Nylon (I think it was Nylon?) article back when the awards aired and towards the end of the photos they stopped including names-this happened a few times when I was looking through red carpet galleries. I reverse image searched where I could but not every photo turned anything up. If anyone does know who this man is, message me so I can include his name. He looks sick, and as far as suits go, this one is built upon and accessorised enough that it’s actually a look rather than the same old variation of a suit we’ve seen a million times before that may as well be the straight man’s designated red carpet uniform. 

(L-R: Maya Jama, Neh Neh Cherry in Bottega Veneta, Laura Whitmore)

And now the woman that forced me to include the Brits red carpet in this post in the first place: Maya Jama. Don’t get me wrong, my mind isn’t blown by this dress on its own, I probably prefer Laura Whitmore’s (Jaded do a similar newspaper dress and I’ve resisted adding it to my basket for 6 months now, this is the ultimate test of whether or not I finally cave), but Maya looks fucking MAGNIFICENT. The fit, the gloves, the confidence with which she carries it, it’s all SO good. Considering the timing, this is basically her Princess Diana revenge dress levelled up, 2020′s Jessica Rabbit moment. 

(L-R: Maya Jama, Ellie Goulding, Kendall Jenner)

Obviously anything is gonna be a step down from the red carpet look but Maya’s Brits afterparty outfit was cute too, if a tad Pretty Little Thing. 

Don’t ask me what Kendall Jenner was doing at the Brits afterparty btw, because I have no idea. We live in a world where the Kardashian-Jenners just seem to occupy every public space possible and I’ve begrudgingly accepted it at this point. I don’t have the energy to question it-and it helps that green catsuit is actually Very Cool™. 

For the last of my favourite Brit Awards looks, we have a few more afterparty photos-from left to right we have Charli XCX again, Lizzo, and Anne Marie. It was Charli posting her dress on Instagram that sent me searching for afterparty looks in the first place; apparently wearing nothing but feathers and crystals is something that appeals to me, and the more I read that statement, the more it sounds spot-on. I’d categorise it as gothic glamour hoe, and slot it in with the rest of the night-out clothes in my wardrobe that I think I’ll finally have the balls to wear out of sheer desperation once this lockdown is over. The Blossom to Charli XCX’s Buttercup here, we’ve also got Anne Marie looking extra AF and I loveeeee it; it’s an ensemble somewhere between a high-end version of Alaska Thunderfuck’s candyfloss Sugar Ball dress from season 5 of Drag Race (Alaska DID deserve to win AS2 nation, rise up) and a low-key version of a Katy Perry California Dreams Tour costume. I don’t call it low-key as a drag, just a regretful admission of the fact that maybe wearing a cupcake bra which squirts whipped cream out of the boobs is a bit too much for most of us. 

Critic’s Choice Awards

(L-R: Alison Brie in Brandon Maxwell, Chloe Bridges in Azeeza, Cynthia Erivo in Fendi, Florence Pugh in Prada)

I was going to say the Critic’s Choice Awards is kind of America’s version of the BAFTAs but then I remembered that the BAFTAs is really the only big TV and film awards ceremony we have here in the UK and that it’s kind of sad that I have to compare our most high-profile red carpet of the year to L.A’s most low-key one. Getting Cynthia Erivo and Florence Pugh to infiltrate is the best we can do. 

THAT BEING SAID! 

They both look amazing. This is Florence’s best red carpet look of this year, imo (she the prettiest icicle I’ve ever seen), and Cynthia Erivo’s arm must ache from serving the entire awards season. And in Fendi! Taste!

Side note before we move onto the next set of looks: has anybody else watched Alison Brie in Mad Men and Community simultaneously and experienced the extreme cognitive dissonance that comes from watching her play a tragically nerdy (relatable tbh) 18 year old and an overly-sophisticated 30 something married to an ad man in the 60s at the same time? Weird, but anyway! The orange dress with the red lipstick is channelling Marina Diamandis’ Froot era style subtle sex appeal and is a timeless, playful combo. Put the hair up into a beehive and it’s Megan Draper on a date in Cabo-don’t know much about the place but I know the sea is aqua and the sun seekers are blindingly white and the cocktails are plentiful (and whatever colour you want them to be), and all that together is a juicy palette if we’re talking cinematography. The Mad Men directors are out there somewhere shaking their fists at the sky that they never got to consult me on that, I’m sure. 

(L-R: Phoebe Waller-Bridge in Dior, Saoirse Ronan in Erdem and Zendaya in Tom Ford)

Zendaya’s red carpet look was the stand out of the Critic’s Choice Awards for sure; the skirt I can do without but I hope that hot pink metal breastplate ends up on display somewhere because that is ART, and she is the perfect person to wear it. The Tiffany Pollard “she's so powerful” meme was made for this moment. 

Also, can we talk about Phoebe Waller-Bridge backing up my Dior 2019 Haute Couture wasn’t *that* bad hypothesis? Because unless I’m mistaken this is one of the dresses from that collection and it is quite beautiful. Yeah, black mesh isn’t going to start a revolution or anything but it’s so delicate looking it almost seems out of place on a red carpet-I don’t know if it’s the structure of the bodice or the tulle but I can totally see this in a gothic ballet, whether that’s sensible in theory or not. Probably not. But then again I did quit ballet when I was 10 after months of getting people to near poke me in the eye on the way out of class so it would look like I’d been crying and I didn’t have to go to my lessons after school. So what do I know? Fuck all, in case that wasn’t clear. I also feel a little vindicated by Saoirse wearing one of the Erdem dresses I loved from last year’s collection-if multi-award winning actress Saoirse Ronan’s probably ridiculously well-paid stylist liked it enough to pick it out for her then I guess I’m doing okay in terms of taste levels.

(L-R: Olivia Wilde in Valentino, Lucy Hale in Miu Miu, Mandy Moore in Elie Saab, and Margaret Qualley in Chanel)

The last few Critics Choice Awards looks I picked out above aren’t thrilling or anything but they’re cute enough to include-from left to right we have Olivia Wilde in Valentino, Lucy Hale in Miu Miu, Mandy Moore in Elie Saab and Margaret Qualley in Chanel. It’s kind of besides the point, but Margaret worked with Chanel throughout awards season and I just wanted to add my two cents in here and say that I think she’s the perfect person to collaborate with (also think Laura Harrier would be a good match, anyone agree?) and that in a similar vein, I urge Miu Miu, the creative directors of which I’m sure are eagerly awaiting the opinion of irrelevant Tumblr user amphtaminedreams, to work with Lucy Hale more often. I feel like if girl stopped starring in those shitty Blumhouse horrors and did something a bit more sophisticated she’d fit the brand right down to a T.

The Golden Globes

(L-R: Cynthia Erivo in Thom Browne, Dakota Fanning in Dior, Jane Levy in Steven Khalil, and Janina Gavankar in Georges Chakra)

Finally! I hear you cry! A more exciting red carpet! It’s not the Oscars, but celebrity stylists still pulled the big guns for this one, the Golden Globes probably being considered the second most prestigious American awards ceremony of the year. Plus Dakota Fanning was there! Big yay for me! She and Elle can practically do no wrong in my eyes and are probably the only 2 women that could take on Dakota Johnson and Jennifer Lawrence when it comes to established red carpet style. 

Cynthia Erivo did it again, of course, as slick, as dignified and as regal as she was at the Critic’s Choice. The woman really has got this power stance thing locked down; she always seems so cool and confident in everything she wears that the whole getting dressed up to go out out out (we call going to the club going “out out”, but I’d say a red carpet is a slightly bigger deal than my local club with the sticky floors hence the 3rd out) thing looks like second nature.

(L-R: Zoey Deutch in Fendi, Karamo Brown in Grayscale, Lucy Boynton in Louis Vuitton and Kat Graham in Georges Hobeika)

Lucy Boynton was another of my Golden Globes stand outs, and in general is someone who I really look forward to seeing at red carpet events. She (or her stylist, I don’t know how much of a role she plays!) always seems to commit fully to an outfit and sees it as part of a whole concept where the makeup, hair and accessories are equally as important and that is a girl after my own heart. 60s space age empress is the theme here and I’m all about it-well, either that or a feminine editorial take on the tinman from the Wizard of Oz but the former sounds a bit cooler and does way more justice to how good she looks so we’ll go with that. Quick shoutout to Kat Graham too because she looked absolutely radiant. 

(L-R: Shailene Woodley in Balmain, Winnie Harlow in Laquan Smith, and Zoe Kravitz in Saint Laurent)

The trio above I really couldn’t skim over, Winnie Harlow especially; my America’s Next Top Model grudges aside, she consistently turns it out at every event she’s invited to. She’s another woman that wears pieces with such confidence that they look like they were actually made on her body-even if the garment itself isn’t the most breathtaking in the room, she’s the one that draws my attention. Though she’s got these dainty, other-worldly qualities about her, what you’d expect to be a gentle presence is firm and commanding and whilst the sharp drama and glitz of the dress probably helps, that’s just the way Winnie Harlow is naturally, based on her other red carpet appearances. 

Zoe Kravitz is an interesting one because, on the one hand, her looking amazing with that bone structure (I would trade a vital organ to look like that any day) is a given, but it does also seem like she went out of her way to do something a bit different this past awards season. I have always loved her street style for its trademark edge and the androgynous, oversized silhouettes that she leans towards, and the overt femininity of her red carpet dresses is that grungy, skater girl aesthetic completely flipped on its head. It’s cute, and if anyone can pull a dress as kitschy as this off, it’s Zoe. She’s got that just rolled out of bed look we all dream of that screams “I’m over this shit” whereas the rest of us have to rely on dark circles to get the message across. It’s very weird to think that she and Shailene Woodley were in Divergent together, especially since Zoe in particular has changed so much since. 

My main note with Shailene was just that I got excited to see that Balmain dress off the runway-it was one of my favourites from the S/S 2020 collection (IIRC, mostly on the basis that I’m pretty sure it wan’t haute couture), and it looks good! Not wildly good because I’m not sure the fit of the dress is inherently all that flattering, but still good-she makes it work.

(L-R: Taylor Swift in Etro, Sofia Carson in Giambattista Valli and Scarlett Johansson in Vera Wang)

I know a lot of people online didn’t seem to like Taylor Swift’s dress, but she looks cute, imo. I will say that I’m surprised it’s Etro! At first glance I would’ve thought Carolina Herrera or Oscar de la Renta or something along those lines. And predictably, I think Sofia Carson looks flawless. If you’ve read any of my other posts you’re probably sick of hearing it but I really can’t resist anything that is this modern Disney princess, like powder pink layered tulle? Feathers? What did you expect me to say, ew? I think deep down my clothing preferences will always be that of a 9 year old girl and you know what, that’s okay. Sometimes. Well, when it comes to red carpets. That’s when you can kinda get away with it.

(L-R: Bell Powley in Miu Miu, Billy Porter in Alex Vinash, and Charlize Theron in Dior)

There’s a few things worth mentioning when it comes to the above outfits. Firstly, and most importantly, I need to proclaim my love for Billy Porter. No man is doing it like him, honestly. To compare Harry Styles in his pink suits is unfair. The drama and the beauty and the flair that Billy brings every awards ceremony is on another level and that’s all I have to say about that. If you disagree, I’m gonna need a bullet pointed essay-I am that firm in my opinion.

Second, Bell Powley in Miu Miu semi confirms the direction their PR team tend to head in when choosing women to work with. I might be totally alone here but I feel like she and Lucy Hale both have one of those porcelain doll faces which work really well with Miu Miu’s signature girlish silhouettes and overly-ornate details. 

And thirdly, just to restate my earlier point: someone give Charlize Theron a pat on the back for bringing some life to a Dior design. That is all.

(L-R: Jodie Comer in Mary Katrantzou, Joey King in Schiaparelli and Kaitlyn Dever in Valentino)

All the newcomers really turned it out too, which is a sentence I type through gritted teeth; to call Jodie Comer of My Mad Fat Diary origins a newcomer pains the former depressing 2013 black and white Tumblr user in me, though I suppose to the US audiences uncultured in the ways of British teenage angst Vilanelle is her breakthrough role. And how Vilanelle is this dress too!? It’s bold and it’s attention-grabbing and it’s fun and it is definitely very theatrical female fictional villain that you were inexplicably drawn to as a child before you realised why as an adult-”oh, it’s because she was hot”. 

Joey King in Iris van Herpen was a pleasant surprise too considering that when I first looked through the red carpet photos I only knew her as the girl who was in that shitty Netflix original-having watched her in The Act, I apologise for the dismissal! And I admire the sartorial choice! I adore Iris van Herpen designs but as a short girl, wearing one of her dresses to a red carpet event is a risky decision-I hate to admit it because casting a diverse range of people for shows is something I have come to expect of my favourite brands, but the appeal of a lot of IvH pieces comes from the movement of the garments on standard willowy runway models. Fortunately, the styling is really complementary here, and whilst it can’t be denied that the dress itself does swamp her a bit, I liked that she and her stylist stepped out of the box. 

Kaitlyn Dever’s red carpet look is obviously a lot more typical, but you can't go wrong with a Valentino dress, and this one in particular is so suited to the aura she gives off-it’s young and it’s fun and it’s fresh and the intricate floral print, otherwise muted if not for the spring influenced pops of pink and red, is timelessly pretty.

(L-R: Akwafina in Dior, Saoirse Ronan in Celine, Beanie Feldstein in Oscar de la Renta, and Renee Zellweger in Armani)

Lastly, there was Saoirse Ronan in Celine-one of my highlights of the night; she looked phenomenal, a glacial toned dream, and it was pretty different to what I generally expect to see her in. I might be way off base and in need of a bit of a review of her red carpet style, but I feel like she usually leans more towards pretty than edgy with regards to her styling at these kinds of events and a loose fitting, gun metal glittered slip dress is, imo, the perfect way to hit that previously uncharted midway point between the two.

(L-R: Kate Bosworth in Prabal Gurung, Kathryn Newton in Valentino and Sarah Hyland)

Now onto the afterparty looks, and I’m not gonna lie, they’re usually the highlight of the ceremonies for me; I feel like the initial ceremony is all about looking respectful and maintaining that whole dedicated actor image, whereas it seems the literal point of these showbiz parties is a competition to be the best dressed person in the room. Competition really makes people step their game up, and we always get to see more young talent whose style tends to be more current than that of the people we see on the red carpet. 

I’ve got to say, as annoying as I found her character in The Society, I have to overlook that gut instinct of irritation when I see Kathryn Newton and accept how stunning everything going on here is; honestly, she looks like an angel, and I feel like the team at Valentino must reeeeally like her to put her in that dress.

(L-R: Alexa Demie, Ashley Benson in Georges Hobeika, Maude Apatow and Barbie Ferreira)

Obviously I was super excited to see the Euphoria girls on the red carpet, especially Alexa Demie-she does 90s/early noughties inspired glamour better than anyone else on the young actor scene right now and her personal style and the sass she does so well as Maddy Perez shines through every time. Whilst Barbie Ferreira’s look is more casual and achievable for the rest of us in terms of wearability, it’s just as interesting a take on the same period; the delicate pink makeup, hair and jewellery with the 90s inspired slip dress in light teal is a red carpet take on soft grunge for the ages. As for Ashley Benson, she always looks gorgeous and that’s all I’m gonna say before I get emotional and start going into a rant about how her and Cara Delevigne’s relationship was one of the only good things about this shitshow of a year and how now that they’ve broken up the single flame of hope inside me has been extinguished and how their sex swing is gonna get so lonely with them caught in the middle of an ugly custody battle and-

You get the idea.

(L-R: Storm Reid, Sophia Bush in John Paul Ataker, and Sydney Sweeney)

(L-R: Billie Lourd, Paris Hilton, and Camila Morrone)

The Oscars

(L-R: Charlize Theron in Dior, Cynthia Erivo, and Florence Pugh in Louis Vuitton)

Ah, the Oscars. This is where the big money is really spent, and bad decisions are made-in fairness, this year’s winners were a lot more satisfying than usual and I think all of us felt that Parasite was a well-deserved win. I really thought it was gonna be Once Upon a Time in Hollywood just as a bit of a token gesture to Tarantino considering it’s his 9th film, though undoubtedly his worst of the ones I’ve seen, so I was relieved that this wasn’t the case. That being said, it still pains me to see the horror genre being ignored by the academy-in my mind, Florence is here for her performance in Midsommar just as much as Little Women. 

At the risk of getting repetitive, just assume my opinions on Charlize Theron in Dior here are the same again, that Cynthia Erivo is still bringing goddess energy (this is probably my favourite of her looks), and that against the opinion of the masses, Florence looks divine in this colour. I mean, when I say the masses I just mean the people I follow on Twitter, but still, I just wanted be an excuse to be dramatic so that I could insert a meme.

(L-R: Natalie Portman in Dior, Regina King in Versace, Scarlett Johansson in Oscar de la Renta, and Sandra Oh in Elie Saab)

Once again, Scarlett Johansson’s stylist is doing God’s work; this outfit is everythingggg-the Oscar de la Renta dress is probably my favourite thus far. Like we’re talking angel, but make it fitted and sexy, and I hope you read that in the Tyra Banks voice I intended because 2 memes in a row would rob me of any credibility I’m building as a fashion account and I’m not ready to trash that for bad memes just yet; give it a couple of mental breakdowns and I’ll be there. Natalie Portman’s look was a favourite of mine too, with the cape over the top adding a sophisticated touch to the celestial, slightly bohemian feel of the dress. I initially found the detail of the names embroidered into said cape to be quite moving-in a dream world, directing would be my career of choice and so I really admired the statement-but finding out that Portman herself is the only director hired by her own production company ruined that for me a little bit. Then again, multi-millionaire celebrities making performative gestures for good publicity and not doing all that much to make any real change? Colour me shocked.

(L-R: Beanie Feldstein in Miu Miu, Brie Larson in Celine and Billie Eilish in Chanel)

Now, of all the Miu Miu looks so far, I think Beanie Feldstein definitely got the best one. The intricacy of the embroidery, the silhouette, the old Hollywood stye curls-it’s all so graceful. I’d say this is probably her best look of awards season and she and her stylist did a really great job.

And as for Billie Eilish...Guys...do you think she might be wearing...Chanel...by any chance? I’m not sure.

Seriously though, as far as an oversized tweed suit with the brand’s logo emblazoned all over it goes, I like this look. The acid green roots and the jewellery are what make it for me, adding to the grunginess of the outfit which is interesting against Chanel’s prim and proper aesthetic of the last few years. I know she has good reason for the way she dresses, but I’ve never quite been able to appreciate it-this outfit proves to me that her style doesn't automatically equal ugly and occasionally, she can make it work.

(L-R: Leona Lewis, Colton Haynes, Dita von Teese)

Elton John’s Oscars afterparty being the less exciting of the two big ones in terms of fashion-the other being the Vanity Fair afterparty which I’ll cover in a moment-I thought I’d whizz through it (posturing aside though, I bet Sir Elton’s party was a lot more fun).

(L-R: Chiara Ferragni, Donatella Versace, Bella Thorne)

This is a big statement considering Alexa Demie attended, but I think Chiara’s outfit and overall styling might be my favourite of the partygoers; if they decided to do a live action Barbie film in 2020 minus the PG ratio-because lets be real, she’d be a noughties Paris Hilton type and get up to some SHENANIGANS-this is the look that would become iconic. 

(L-R: Ashley Greene in Off-White, Alexa Demie, Sydney Sweeney, Annalynne McCord)

It was a hard decision to make though: I’m just as into Sydney Sweeney’s interpretation of burlesque come 1950s red carpet Barbie, Ashley Greene’s surprisingly delicate Off-White number, and Alexa’s dress and (as always) impeccable styling. That being said, Chiara’s clearest contender here for the best dressed of the night is Annalynne McCord. I know I'm one to throw similes around but she looks like an ACTUAL Disney princess-the dress is magical and an absolutely flawless fit. She carries it with such grace. I'm truly in love.

(L-R: Tessa Thompson in Versace, Vanessa Hudgens in Vera Wang, SZA)

As for the Vanity Fair Oscars afterparty, there were SO many iconic moments this year. SZA was the definition of the fire emoji, Tessa Thompson’s throwback Versace was the mermaid’s take on BDSM fashion I never knew I need to see, and I’d die to turn up to my graduation ceremony (here’s hoping for a successful attempt at the old uni shebang this time, lol) looking as elegant and simultaneously extra as Vanessa Hudgens did in Vera Wang. I mean, this was before Vanessa went on her dumb Instagram live corona rant because she was upset she couldn’t go to Coachella and I still kinda lived for her, mostly because of moments like this. She’s always been the queen of channelling a more hedonistic, carefree era and this dress is the most refined example of that boho decadence yet. It sounds dramatic to say but the rich purple is such a bold choice considering it’s a a colour we rarely see on the red carpet but now I’ve seen eggplant coloured silk I need it, lol. 

(L-R: Suki Waterhouse in Fendi, Lili Reinhart in Marc Jacobs, Lucy Boynton and Margaret Qualley in Chanel)

Then there was Suki, Lilly, Lucy and Margaret as well who all went full angel mode in some of my favourite runway looks of last summer’s haute couture week; Suki’s Fendi dress and Lili’s Marc Jacobs number were highlights of both their shows and there’s something even more magical about them both when the uniformity of the runway is removed. I also would go on about how much I love Lucy Boynton’s style for the millionth time but I think you get my point.

(L-R: Nicole Richie, Cynthia Erivo, Hunter Schafer, Billie Porter)

The more I look at the photos I saved from the Vanity Fair “red” carpet, the more I come to the firm conclusion that these looks are my favourite as a collective. Along with the elegance and sex appeal of the outfits above, we’ve got all these looks too which are so VIBRANT and fun and experimental. Billie Porter is absolutely majestic and continues his reign as the king of in-your-face, theatrical red carpet style, and Hunter and Cynthia look so radiant. Whilst Nicole’s look isn’t as colourful, she still brought drama with the satin gloves and the smoke lined eyes, and she is definitely ready to step on someone’s neck here.

(L-R: Halima Aden, Ella Balinska in Schiaparelli, Emma Roberts, Ciara)

(L-R: Kiki Layne in Michael Kors, Kim Kardashian in Alexander McQueen, Kylie Jenner in Ralph and Russo, Lashana Lynch in Michael Kors)

(L-R: Rowan Blanchard in Iris van Herpen, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, Stella Maxwell, and Sarah Paulson with Holland Taylor)

I’ve got to say, it’s really cool to see Rowan Blanchard in Iris van Herpen too; it’s interesting that as far as I know, she and Joey King were the only ones to wear her this awards season, both being up and coming actresses. It would be a good choice for the brand, probably best known for its futuristic, conceptual aesthetic, to also focus its PR efforts on the young potential inheriting that future. Orrrr it could just be that Rowan, Joey and I have the same (good, lol) taste-not gonna lie, from my experience of stalking her instagram Rowan Blanchard does make some unique fashion choices and her feed is full of bold outfit inspiration.

(L-R: Adriana Lima in Ralph and Russo, Alessandra Ambrosio in Armani, Billie Eilish in Gucci, and Donatella Versace in Versace)

Then there’s Billie Eilish, who is really on another level. This is her second custom made baggy suit of the night, this time Gucci. IMAGINE. Chanel and Gucci making custom pieces to suit your very specific style. Again, though, I really like this; whilst it’s very clearly a Billie outfit, it’s got a level of sophistication, cohesiveness and glamour to it that takes it to that I can admire. 

(L-R: Camila Mendes in Moschino, Barbara Palvin and Dylan Sprouse, and Chiara Ferragni)

Honestly, the Vanity Fair red carpet really belonged to young talent this year, and Camila Mendes in one of my favourite Moschino looks from the Picasso collection really seals it. She could’ve just gone for a basic pretty dress-this isn’t a natural choice-but she really does have the proud, regal look of a woman who knows some man is gonna paint her a portrait that will end up in a famous gallery one day. 

One last thing before I move on, though. How the fuck does Chiara Ferragni get everywhere?! And by that I don’t mean how does she get invited, I had the shock of finding out this woman I followed on Instagram because I liked her outfits and thought she was pretty is a hugely successful businesswoman in Italy long ago. Power to her. She’s a big deal! I get it! I just mean, physically HOW? How do you hit Elton John’s party AND the Vanity Fair party in one night and look this good? God really does have favourites, huh. Well, I guess in this hypothetical scenario where I believe in him anyway. 

The SAG Awards

(L-R: Dakota Fanning in Valentino, Kaitlyn Dever in Ralph Lauren, Scarlett Johansson in Armani, and Zoe Kravitz in Oscar de la Renta)

So, I kinda forgot the SAG awards existed and thought that my post was basically finished before I looked in my folder and saw the one dedicated to this ceremony. My initial reaction was like “oh, this is the shitty Oscars, right?” and I assumed the red carpet would be shit and that I could call it a night-it’s 3:30am, I wish I was calling it a night-but then I looked and saw that I had even more outfit photos saved in that folder than I did for my Oscar dedicated one. Because fuck, I want to to sleep, but the SAG awards had a surprisingly good turn out?! So maybe not as irrelevant a ceremony as I thought? Because Dakota Fanning turned up looking like some divine mythical being again, Scarlett Johansson pulled another incredible look out the bag, Zoe Kravitz was a modernised Audrey Hepburn, and Kaitlyn Dever read my comments about her dress being “timelessly pretty” and said “bitch, you really thought” before showing up looking hot as fuck. Truth be told, I think the SAG awards were first but in this universe where Kaitlyn Dever would pay any attention to my opinion of her outfit do we really care? 

(L-R: America Ferrera, Andrew Scott in Azzaro Couture, Camila Mendes in Ralph and Russo, Caleb McLaughlin )

(L-R: Lupita Nyongo in Louis Vuitton, Lily Allen, Nathalie Emmanuel in Miu Miu, Cynthia Erivo in Schiaparelli)

See, I was going to make a comment above how I took back what I said about Camila Mendes not just going for pretty dresses (which I guess I just did here instead-JUST TO BE CLEAR SHE STILL LOOKS STUNNING) and then I uploaded the next photo set and got distracted by 2 things:

1. How weird it is that British legend Lily Allen, who does not get NEAR enough credit for her smart her songs were might I add, is dating David Harbour AKA. Hopper off Stranger Things!?

2. How mad I still am about Game of Thrones and how dirty the writers did Nathalie Emmanuel (and Emilia Clarke and Lena Heady and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau and basically everyone else on that show but that’s another story).

In this same universe where Kaitlyn Dever cares about my opinion can we make the issues I have in the last bullet point not exist? Please?

(L-R: Sophie Turner in Louis Vuitton, Renee Zellweger in Maison Margiela, Phoebe Waller-Bridge in Armani, and Renee Bargh)

(L-R: Gwendoline Christie in Rick Owens, Madeline Brewer in Monique Lhuillier, Kathryn Newton in Valentino, and Lili Reinhart in Miu Miu)

Finishing off the SAG looks, we’ve got the four above. 

Once again, Kathryn Newton was Valentino’s blushing crown jewell; Allie Pressman hate aside, she really is the perfect dressing up doll for the brand. Fresh faced and poised, she has all the elegance and gentle femininity necessary to make floating down the runway as Valentino models do look natural, and Lili Reinhart did an equally good job being a Miu Miu girl. She makes that idiosyncratic cutesy-ness work, all the frills and fragility of a china tea set look easy where I’d just look like I’d been consumed by a charity shop doily. Madeline Brewer did a good job too, helping a Monique Lhuillier design pop in a way that it doesn’t usually. When your hair is bright red and your dress cerulean blue, coral tinted lipstick is a *ahem* choice, buuut in this case it paid off because the result is a look which demanded my attention-ML dresses are reliably pretty, however, they tend to be predictable. Madeline and her styling did a good job subverting that formula. To end the section, though, I feel it’s only fair to save my fave woman til last-probably one of the few people in the world that isn’t a Rick Owens model that can pull off his designs. Ofc, I’m talking about the queen that is Gwendoline Christie. If we’re talking embodying brands, she did justice like nobody else could to the spectacle of Owens’ formidable, out-of-this-world aesthetic. This is her version of the princess moment, and when you’re as striking as she is, nothing less would do. 

At least my girl Brienne of Tarth is thriving<3

The Grammys

(L-R: Ariana Grande in Giambattista Valli, Cardi B in Mugler, and Pia Mia in Julien Macdonald)

TBH, like I said with the Brits, I never planned to do any music award ceremony red carpets, just because I feel like the fashion tends to be more geared towards a younger audience buuuut I’m kinda glad I changed because Ariana looks INCREDIBLE. MESMERISING. TRANSCENDENT. JFC. There’s a reason the photo of her on her Wiki page has been changed to one from this night and it’s because she looks absolutely exquisite, like some kind of moon goddess with an R&B touch which I suppose is kind of her brand? Sometimes I go kind of lukewarm on Giambattista Valli and forget how mystical but at the same time frothy and indulgent and all around luxurious the pieces can be. This is a cupcake of a dress and I want to eat it. Cardi B has become a bit of an unexpected fashion icon and Pia Mia looks as hot-party-girl as ever but I feel to put anyone next to Ariana in this dress seems harsh because she just completely stole the show and I don’t even know if she won any Grammys.

(L-R: Josephine Relli, Gwen Stefani, Jameela Jamil in Georges Chakra, and Chrissy Teigen in Yanina Couture)

Other than Ariana, I’m not gonna lie, there was nothing wildly exciting, BUT I did think there were some beautiful colours out on the runway-plus for all her occasionally bad takes I really like what Jameela Jamil stands for and her style has always been very quirky cool. The electric blue tiled effect with the black mesh underneath kinda reminds me of a peacock, and contrasts wonderfully with the carpet-it’s very reminiscent of her T4 days. She’s one of those people that seems to get aggression directed at her that’s completely disproportionate to whatever it is she’s supposed to have done; sometimes the way she goes about saying things is wrong but the intention behind what she’s saying is usually good. Then again, the internet still despises Chrissy Teigen (in a way that’s kind of excessive considering what we seem to collectively let some people get away with) for a dumb AirPods tweet and I’ve included her too. THIS IS NOT A POLITICAL STATEMENT, this time anyway. I just think she looks good!

If I’m going to get controversial about anything, it’ll be Gwen Stefani. She looks stunning, the dress is stunning, and the boots are stunning. The outfit is not my problem! My problem is how she seems not to have aged at all. This woman is 50 years old! That she drank the blood of her Harajuku girls is the only explanation here. Can you imagine if she tried to pull that shit today? She’d get rightly accused of being a culturally appropriating weeb in about 10 seconds flat and we’d have to pretend to stop liking Cool and Hollaback Girl. 

(L-R: Finneas O’Connell in Gucci, Lucky Daye, and Shaun Ross)

(L-R: Tess Holliday, Dua Lipa in Alexander Wang, Tyler the Creator, and Grace Elizabeth in Giuseppe di Morabito)

Back to what I’m supposed to be talking about in this blog post: the fashion. And here, most importantly, Tyler the Creator looking like a cast member of the Grand Budapest Hotel. IDK why. But I love this man.

(L-R: Lil Nas X in Versace, Lizzo in Versace, and Shawn Mendes in Louis Vuitton)

(L-R: Billie Porter, FKA Twigs in Ed Marler, and Swae Lee in Giuseppe Zanotti)

See in general, the men were a lot more interesting on the Grammys red carpet. With the exception of Twigs, Dua and obviously Ariana, the men’s outfits are a lot more memorable; Billie Porter became the most fashionable meme on the internet, for god’s sake. And even when their outfits weren’t extravagant, they were just more interesting, imo, which is a rare occurrence. I didn’t expect Finneas O’Connell to be the writing half of Billie Eilish (the other half being Billie herself) I cared about and yet, in that Gucci blazer, here we are. 

(L-R: Jessie J, Hailee Steinfeld, and Madison Beer)

(L-R: H.E.R, Usher, FKA Twigs, and Matt Shultz)

Of the afterparty looks, my favourites are what we can see of these more casual outfits-I love what F.K.A Twigs and H.E.R are wearing, the headscarf with the leatherjacket on top is in particular very throwback rockabilly, and I’m even into whatever it is Usher’s got on.

(L-R: Olivia O’Brien, Amine, and Alrissa)

(L-R: Salem Mitchell, Machine Gun Kelly, and Sydney Sweeney)

Now, how to round this all up!? How to relate the confusingly persistent but very welcome presence of Sydney Sweeney on, like, ALL these red carpets back to the MET!?

IDEK. It’s been a long year. 

The Met Gala has usually come and gone before we know it, but with everything going on, it’s been the longest January-May I think most of us have ever known. I keep going on about COVID-19 in all my posts now but I have almost forgotten how to write an intro and outro because the pandemic is pretty much consistently on the brain and unless I have something right in front of me to use as a distraction, my mind tends to wander off into a very anxious place. I think, like many others, I feel frustrated and disappointed and angry with the way the situation is being handled by the people who are supposed to protect their citizens, and by how much of a fight some are putting up against measures that are in place to try and save lives. The point of this ramble, I guess, is that whilst we should never forget what’s going on and do the best we can to help prevent the spread of the virus, it’s okay to still care about mundane shit. Was this post one big long distraction for me? Probably. But if there’s something harmless you can do to keep your anxiety at bay, don’t feel bad for doing it. Contrary to popular belief, you can care about more than one thing at once. You can be sad that something you were looking forward to has been cancelled whilst still being sad for the people who are suffering because they’ve lost love ones or who have been forced into precarious living conditions. If talking about clothes on the internet is going to help you get through this pandemic, power to you.

If anyone has read til the end, thank you! I hope you are well! As always, feel free to reply to the post or inbox me with your thoughts! It doesn’t even have to be related to this post. If you’re struggling with everything going on, feel free to reach out too. I spend too much time on the internet anyway, lol! My plans are to finish my fashion week reviews and then I have a Lana Del Rey albums inspired lookbook which I pinched off the stans on Twitter (who I will of course credit when I write it!). For the time being, look after yourselves!

Lauren x

[early2000smovieimagines]

Meeting and Dating Noah

(My gif/I must admit, he’s cute but he’s a gross person)(Requested by anonymous)

- You met Noah at one of his parties. You never would have gone on your own free will but your friend dragged you to it, telling you it was a fundraiser for animals.

- It took everything you had in you not to walk out the instant you saw the state of the place. Sure, parties were fine but this was just chaos where it didn’t belong. Animals wandering around, girls laying on operation tables, beer bottles in empty kennels, it was a disaster. But your friend had already disappeared inside the crowd and you weren’t about to be pushed around by strangers just to fail at convincing her to leave.

- Unbeknownst to you, you’d caught the eye of a certain scumbag. As soon as you entered the room, Noah’s eyes had locked on you, his mouth going dry and the world around him coming to a halt. You didn’t notice him until later when he pushed his way through the dancing crowd to sit next to you.

- You’d resigned yourself to playing with one of the kittens/puppies as you sat as far away from the mass of bodies as you could. He struck up a conversation with you as you tried to be as polite as possible, you were really in no mood to talk but you felt bad telling him to buzz off.

- Thankfully, he had enough sense not to try and drug the girl he was actually considering dating. Just as you were about to get past the awkward pickup line and conversation phase you noticed your friend stumbling about. You immediately ditched him without another word, going to check on her as his stomach dropped.

- He noticed you leaving with your friend a few minutes later and found himself unable to relax for the rest of the night. He tried to forget about it but for the first time in his life he felt genuinely bad for what him and his friends had done.

- He didn’t get to see you again until a few days later when you ran into each other at a coffee shop near the school. He hesitantly approached and greeted you, anticipating a furious response. He soon realized he wasn’t going to get one as you apologized for running out on him, explaining that your friend had too much to drink and got really sick.

- He nervously chuckled, telling you it was alright as he mentally promised to throw out all his pills once he got home. He followed you out of the shop, forgetting the fact that he wanted to get himself coffee as he asked if you were free.

“Yeah, I guess so. What did you have in mind?”

- Fast forward an hour and you’re making out in his dorm room. Between kisses he was asking questions about you; your interests, your major, where you come from, etc. He was quiet as you pulled away, getting ready to go back to your own dorm after he warned that his roommates would be getting back soon. But then he piped up again, asking if you liked bowling.

- And that’s how you found yourself in a bowling alley, goofing off with the guy you were previously battling tongues with. By the end of the night you were excited to see him again... and he was ecstatic that you actually liked him without him needing to get you drunk.

- Noah kind of had an epiphany when the two of you started dating. He realized just how good actual relationships could be. A really hot girl who actually liked him and was willing to let him into her pants? Sign him up!

- So much pda, he constantly wants to touch you and show the world that you’re his. 

- You definitely get a lot of nicknames, many of them are sarcastic but you don’t entirely mind. 

- He loves having you kiss his cheek. He probably gives you his signature laugh in response a lot of the time. 

- Laughing just because of his laugh. 

- Going to the nail and hair salon together. He likes being pampered so he’s always willing to do face masks with you as well. 

- Taking walks around the city. A lot of your dates are just the two of you wandering around and enjoying each others company. 

- Random spontaneous dates. You rarely ever actually plan to do what the two of you end up doing when you’re together. 

- Hand holding. 

- He caves easy, give him a little pout and your best puppy dog eyes and you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. 

- He can be helpful when he wants to be, he just doesn’t often want to be. If you ask him to do something, he’ll do it without thinking (unless his friends are around). Just don’t ask him  to help you in advance because all he’ll do in the meantime is complain. 

- Everyone kind of thinks his ideas are shit and constantly put him down so he really appreciates you actually listening to him and occasionally taking his advice. It’s one of the ways you managed to worm your way into his heart: making him feel important. 

- Getting him to actually study once in a while. He begs you to do his assignments for him but gladly accepts your help when he knows that’s all he’ll get out of you. 

- Sitting on his lap. 

- When the two of you cuddle he’s either the big spoon or sleeps with his face directly on your boobs and his arm wrapped around you. Whenever he’s the big spoon he wraps his entire body around you; arms, legs, etc. You cant escape. 

- He likes grabbing you from behind and pulling the both of you onto the couch/your bed. He enjoys the squeal he’s able to get out of you whenever he does it. 

- Pranks. He just likes fucking with you in general, he thinks your reactions are hilarious. 

- Noah isn’t exactly known for his compassion so don’t expect to receive the best boyfriend ever. He isn���t a total lost cause though, with a little “training”, for lack of a better word, he could definitely change his tune. Either way, he treats you better than anyone else even before you try to help straighten him out a little. 

- You try your best to stop him from going through with some of his more... awful plans. 

- Smart ass comments, you gotta know how to receive and deliver to survive in this relationship. 

- Weird questions. You really don’t know where his mind comes up with half the shit he asks you. 

- Random weird facts brought on by nothing in particular. You’ve learned so much yet nothing of much importance. 

- I’m to tell you this but your boyfriend kind of has no filter. You’ve had to swoop in and save his ass a countless number of times. 

- Obviously he’s a bit of a fashion disaster. Thankfully, you’ve managed to convince him to get rid of a few things which you promptly took home and destroyed. Those sunglasses can’t hurt you any more Earth; I promise.

- Hour long make out sessions. When his lips are on yours he’s a happy man. 

- Swapping accessories.

- Helping him plan and set up for his parties. 

- Coffee dates. 

- Having to scold him for falling asleep while tanning. It’s kind of hard for him to feel like he made a bad decision when you’re rubbing lotion on him. 

- Noah would definitely be the kind of guy who gets jealous easily. He doesn't think he’s good enough to get girls without help from a little white pill. How do you think he’d react to a guy who has charm and wants his girl who he thinks is out of his league?

- To say that you aren’t fond of his friends is definitely a bit of an understatement. They bring out the worst in him but you kind of just have to put up with them. 

- Having him lay his head in your lap. He lies on top of you a lot in general; he enjoys your squishiness very much. 

- As much as he “tries to get along with everybody”, he isn't afraid to tell someone no or to go away for you. He’s just a blunt person who couldn't be arsed with anybody else’s feeling, well, besides yours. 

- Becoming friends with Paul just to push his buttons. You think it’s good for him to be bothered every once in a while, it throws him off and usually makes him act like less of an ass. 

- There’s a lot of sex and that’s just a fact. There’s no getting around it, homedogs hornier than a rabbit on Viagra. 

- He has a weirdly good grasp on all things sexual so you really don’t mind all that much.

- You kind of have to be into partying to hang out with him. If you don’t like to party you barely exist to him and his friends. 

- Your boyfriends kind of a pothead so expect to deal with “high as a kite” Noah at least a few times. He’s more than happy to share with you if that’s your cup of tea as well. 

- Sometimes a girl just needs to turn on a lame tv show/movie and make fun of people with her boyfriend. Gossiping and shit talking people, both from tv and real life, is a common occurrence in your relationship. 

- He compliments you every now and again but they usually aren’t the kind of compliments you prefer hearing. He often just calls you hot or says you “look good”, granted it’s not the worst but it’s also not very romantic either. 

- Noah isn't the kind of guy to say “I love you”. He tries his best to show it but Rome wasn’t built in a day; he’s still getting used to actual, meaningful relationships. 

- He definitely transferred into a few of your classes after the two of you got together. He didn't even tell you he was switching, he just showed up to your English class one day. 

- During the holidays, he took you to meet his parents who were very happy to see that he finally found a nice girl to “settle down with”. You probably aren’t too keen on introducing him to your parents but he tries to be on his best behavior if you are. 

- When you find out about his past actions with the girls at his parties you definitely break up with him for a while. Finding out that your boyfriend used to roofie people kind of puts a damper on your relationship, doesn't it?

- He always has to be right, it’s one of the most aggravating things about him. He thinks he can do no wrong or that he always knows best which is kind of ironic, don’t you think?

- He never really apologizes whenever the two of you are fighting, he just tries to get you to calm down and  “talk”. Don’t be fooled, the “talking” is useless since he isn't ever willing to admit he did anything wrong. Oftentimes you just have to walk away before things get even worse.

- Once you give him the silent treatment for a while, he’s itching to do whatever it takes to make things alright between the two of you. So in the end you get your apology even if it takes a little time.

- Even though it might not feel like it all the time, he really does care for you and is glad you put up with him. 

[emgkheadcannons]

Hurt kells headcanons?

Hurt Kells Head Cannons

I don’t know if you mean physically, emotionally, or mentally, so let's see where this goes. Well it turned out really long and is more a fanfiction I’m sorry. So the story under the cut, WARNING, part of it is really sad, and brief mentions of suicidal thoughts. It’s a happy ending though. Okay enjoy.

Well it turned out really long and is more a fan fiction I’m sorry. 

Kelly is always hurting himself and Em is right behind him making sure he is okay. Kelly loves the attention and pampering, and Eminem is pretty sure Kelly is making him go gray.

Kelly is hazard prone. He has broken his arm running over parked cars, while drinking, cut his chest with a broken Jameson bottle, leaving scars, and has been hit by a double decker bus when he was in London. Kelly does a lot of reckless things all the time, he just gets back up, dust himself off, and continues on, even when he shouldn’t.

Kelly does not like not being able to do something, or having to slow down or worse having to have others slow down for you because he is hurt, but most of all he hates the useless feeling he gets from being injured. Sitting around, getting nothing done, depending on someone else for things. 

It’s not so bad when he is with Em. He doesn’t feel like a burden, or that Em is only being nice to him because he has to. He is Eminem, Rap God, Slim Shady, if he doesn’t want to do something he doesn’t have to. So Em choosing to help him, check on him constantly, and genuinely want to be with him, makes Kelly feel 

Eminem actually likes taking care of Kelly. He wishes he could dote on him all the time, not just when Kelly is hurting. Em is various about injuries and illnesses. He doesn’t mess around, and while he loves being able to dote on Kelly, he won’t let him get away with some of his usual antics. 

When Kelly gets hurt for doing something stupid like flipping over the back of the couch, or jumping off the roof of a car, you can bet Em Lectures the Hell out of him, after making sure he’s okay. Then he cuddles the hell out of his stupid boyfriend. 

It is one thing if Kelly gets hurt doing something stupid, it’s another if someone hurts Kelly. Em is very protective of his people, and Kelly is one. When a shitty reporter goes too far, making Kelly self conscious, Em hits back hard, black listing them from a ton of events, and getting other artists to refuse interviews with them. 

Kelly’s interview on Hot Ones made EM so mad. Watching his idiot boyfriend eat those hot wings, when they both know they are mild taco bell guys, is frustrating. Kelly is hurting himself, Em can’t stop him, and when he gets home his stomach will probably be upset. At least Em will get a night in with Kelly, even if it’s him watching a movie with Kelly, rubbing his back, while the blond chugs Pepto Bismol. 

Mentally

Kelly struggles with depression and anxiety. He is doing better now, but there is only one way to go when you hit rock bottom, and Kelly hit it back in 2018.

Kelly was mentally hurt at the end of 2018, after EM’s diss track came out, and it seemed like the world hated him. He could barely go outside without someone telling him how Em wiped the floor with him. He had people following him, threatening him, some even attacked him. He was worried about not only being booked, but also being able to perform, with how hostile people were being. Kelly was worried about Cassie being with him. What if someone decided to go after him, and she got caught up in it? He couldn’t live with himself if something happened to her, especially if it happened because of him

Kelly kept busy shooting movies, writing music, and whatever he could think of, to keep his mind from spiraling. Thinking those dark thoughts. ‘Would Cassie be better off without me? Would everyone be better off without me? What if I don’t get another gig, or role? How will I support her? …...Would anybody miss me?’

Kelly fell into depression, and his anxiety got out of control. Getting out of bed became a chore, and the crushing fear of failing everyone, made him wonder why he should even try if he was probably going to fail. He was able to get himself going most days, but the constant anxiety was draining, and he turned to alcohol, and drugs harder the weed to numb the feeling, which worked for a while. The problem is he had to use a little more every time to numb the pain. 

Becoming good friends with Pete Davidson and Dominic ‘Yungblud’ helped Kelly out a lot. He drank less, it was easier to get out of bed, and the crushing anxiety of living quieted down but they didn’t go away. It wasn't until Eminem found him during a panic attack, at a festival they were both performing at that things began to change. 

Eminem was wandering around the performers area one evening, close to some of the tour buses, when he heard something. He had nothing going on and wanted to find out what was making that noise. As Em got closer to the source of the sound, he saw a figure hunched over on themselves. He realized that it was a person, and it looked like they were having trouble breathing. Eminem rushed over to see if he could help. Kneeling down next to the person, Em sees that it is Machine Gun Kelly, and it looks like the kid is either having a panic attack, or a really bad trip. 

Taking a deep breath, Em wrapped an arm around the other rapper's shoulders, trying to steady him, before he started talking  “Hey, can you hear me? I need you to listen. It will all be okay. I need you to calm down. Take a deep breath.In, and out, in, and out.” The kid was responding but not as much as he would have liked. Making a decision, Em sat down in the grass, and pulled Kelly into his lap. It was a little awkward, but he made it work. “Alright Colson listen to me. I want you to match my breathing. Ready, in, and out. In, and out.” Em was finally getting the response he wanted, the guys breathing was slowing down, and becoming less erratic. “Okay, that's it. Just breath. It’s okay.” He didn’t smell any alcohol on his breath, so at least he wasn’t drunk, but he could still be high.

Eminem looked around and noticed that his tour bus was only two buses down. He couldn’t leave the kid here, and his band mates would most likely make it worse, so the last option was to take Machine Gun Kelly to his bus. He hated being so responsible. He didn’t even like the kid, but helping him was the right thing to do.

Eminem stood up, dragging Kelly up with him. He got under Kelly’s arm to help support him, but their height difference made it hard. Em gave up about three steps in, and just picked the guy up, carrying him the rest of the way. The older rapper noticed that Kelly was light, probably too light for someone his size. Em began to worry about what was going on with him. 

Once safely inside his bus, Eminem placed Kelly on his couch. He pulled out his phone and called Paul. He needed more information before he goes any further. 

He got his answers.

Apparently he has been receiving death threats lately, and someone broke into his tour bus tonight. The kid hadn’t gone out partying in a while, and seemed to be out of the public eye as much as possible. 

Em turned to look at the younger rapper, and really looked at him. Kelly’s eyes had dark circles around them, like he hadn’t been sleeping, and his skin looked pale and ashen. His face was gaunt, like he wasn’t eating well. His nails were chewed short and were unpainted. Looking at his outfit wasn’t his usual put together, fashionable self. He looked like shit. 

Marshall could tell that Colson was broken, he just didn’t know that he had a hand in breaking him.

Kelly wasn’t bad at ignoring what other people say, he just wasn’t the best at it, and if you paired that with how his life had been going for the past few months, it was pretty damn hard to ignore everything. The fact that Eminem, his rival, his idol, the man he liked, the man who destroyed him, found him during a panic attack, made him feel even worse. Crying in front of the man was just icing on the cake, of the shit show he called life. He had hit rock bottom and he knew it. Eminem knew it, and soon everybody else would. 

The shocking thing was that Eminem didn’t go after him. He didn’t insult Kelly, didn’t use his panic attack against him. He didn’t throw Kelly out once he had calmed down. Instead the guy let him stay the night. He even offered to help Kelly. 

Kelly was wondering if he was hallucinating. After all that has happened, after everything he has done why would Eminem offer him help. He didn’t know whether to trust the older rapper or not, but he has already lost so much, what else does he have to lose?

Emotionally

Trusting Eminem was the right thing for Kelly to do. They publicly squashed their beef, and that really helped with people coming after him, and the death threats have slowed down a lot. It didn’t end there though. Em convinced him to see someone about his depression and anxiety, which now that he knows that he has, he has a better handle on them. He has given up all his drugs, except weed. This is the cleanest he has been in years. He now drinks occasionally, and when he wants, rather than feeling like he had to drink or high to function. 

Another benefit of trusting Eminem is that Kelly and Eminem were becoming friends. Em saw that Kelly was going down the same path he was years ago until Uncle Elton intervened, and now he was doing the same for Kelly.

Everything was going pretty well until Eminem realized that unlike him and Elton, he had feelings for Kelly, and that was a problem. How could he help him if he wants to date him. Only a few people know that Em is bi with a preference for men. He couldn’t tell Kelly. So Em does the dumb thing and starts to pull away. 

Kelly was starting to feel like he was getting his life back together, and was doing well. But with all things in Kelly’s life something has to go wrong. 

It starts with him and Em not hanging out as much, but Kelly just tells himself it’s because he is probably just busy. Then Em starts canceling plans on him. Their text conversations get shorter and shorter. The final piece is when Kelly finally gets to visit him, after months of trying, Em basically ignores him, won’t look at him, and practically dismisses him.

Kelly can’t take this rejection, not after everything that has happened. He makes it halfway down the hallway when his legs give out, and he starts to cry quietly. He is going over everything in his head trying to figure out what he did wrong. 

He doesn’t know how long he is there on the floor, crying, when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Why are you on the floor? Why are you crying” Em asks, wiping away a tear.

“I'm sorry.”

“Why are you sorry.”

“I...I don’t know.” Kelly sobs while tears run down his face. “I’m so sorry. I don’t … don’t know what I did to make you so mad at me. Please..hic...please don’t hate me”

Eminem is shocked. Why did Kelly think he was mad at him let alone hate him. Em was so confused.

“I’m sorry.” Kelly kept on repeating between sobs. 

Em did the only thing he could think of. He scopes Kelly up in his arms and takes him to his bedroom, placing Kelly on his bed, and wraps him up in his comforter. Kelly continues to apologize and sobs the whole time this is happening. When he finally quiets down, Em is holding him, like he did when Kelly had his panic attack months ago. 

“What did I do wrong?” Kelly rasps, voice hoarse from crying. 

“I don’t know what you are talking about, but you haven’t done anything wrong, and I’m not mad at you.” Em replies.

“Then why don’t you like me anymore. You helped me get my life back together, and we were like friends, but then you started avoiding me, canceling on me, and today you ignored me and then dismissed me, like I was nothing. I don’t understand. I thought we were friends.” 

“We are friends, Kelly I promise. You have done nothing wrong. I did something wrong.”

Kelly was so confused. The look he was giving Eminem was adorable and pitiful; it makes Em’s feel terrible for how he treated Kells. Looking back he can see why Kelly thinks he hates him. With a heavy sigh, Em makes himself more comfortable before telling Kelly the truth. 

“Not a lot of people know this but I am bisexual, and the reason I was avoiding you was because I have feelings for you. You don’t need me around wanting you when you are trying to make yourself better. I thought it would be better if I removed myself, but I clearly didn’t think how it would look to you. I’m sorry.” 

Kelly buries his face in the junction of Em’s neck. He can feel the tears, from the other man, falling onto his collar bone. Kelly mumbles something that Em can’t make out. 

“I’m sorry Kelly I couldn’t understand what you said.”

“Do you still like me?” Kelly asks a little louder.

EM takes a deep breath, and breaths out before replying. 

“Yes, Kell-”

“Colson. My real name is colson.”

“Yes Colson, I still like you.”

“You really hurt me, Em-”

“Marshall. If I get to call you Colson, you can call me Marshal.”

“You really hurt me Marshal. I thought I had done something to make you hate me. I thought I was going to go back to how I was. Drinking and being high to just get through the day.”

“I’m so sorry Colson. I promise I won’t ever do that again.”

“That’s good, because I like you too.”

After clearing everything up between them, and working on their communication, Em and Kelly start dating. 

(Using there real names are for serious, and super important moments)

Physically

A few months into their relationship, things are going well for them, and the people important to them know they are dating. Most took it well, and the few that didn’t (Rook), didn’t like it because they don’t like one of them (Rook still hates Eminem). Most people have stopped bothering Kelly for the beef, and the death threats have basically stopped.

Kelly had just finished his final concert in Detroit, and a whole week off to visit with his boyfriend, before he had to be somewhere. All they had to do was pack up the equipment, and make sure everyone was good then Kelly could head out.

About thirty minutes past midnight Kelly is heading to his car, when he gets jumped. Three guys come out of the shadows and corner him. Before he could say anything, never mind hand over his wallet, he gets punched in the gut. They continue to wail on Kelly, punching and kicking him, as he struggles to get away. Once beaten to a bloody mess, the men stop. He hears one of them say “that’s what a bitch like you gets for coming to Eminem’s town.” He always knew Detroit was dangerous, but he never thought he would be beaten up for his beef with Em after they ended it, especially after they started dating. He laid there for a moment trying to get up. His whole body hurt. He was bleeding from a few different cuts, his head really hurts, and his vision is blurry. He doesn’t know the extent of his injuries, but he hopes that he won’t need a cast. 

When he finally gets into a sitting position, he sees his phone a few feet away, and miraculously it only has a few cracks on the screen from him dropping it. He calls Em, to come and get him.

Em rushes to Kelly. He brings his security too, to make sure no one else jumps Kelly. EM drives them to the hospital to have him checked out; his boy doesn’t look good.

Kelly is worse for the ware but he will be okay; it could have been much worse. He is covered in cuts, and bruises. He needs 4 stitches for a gash on his back, and gets his nose reset. Beside those injuries Kelly ends up with cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder, two broken fingers, a badly sprained ankle, and the doctor confirms he has a concussion. The antiseptic hurt like a bitch, but it’s when they pop his shoulder back in place that he starts to tear up. The doctors agree to release Kelly into Em’s care, with strict orders on what the blond could and couldn’t do, and a few different prescriptions.

Eminem is beyond furious. Some dipshits thought they could jump his boy, beat the shit out of him, and get away with it. Fuck no. He will deal with them later. He wants blood but Kelly needs him right now. He sends two of his guys though to find out what they can.

It’s after four am when they get home. Em carries him up the stairs and tucks him into bed, careful of his injuries. He pulls the curtains tight, and makes sure the room only has a soft, dim light. He reviews the doctor's notes on how to take care of his boyfriend, and puts Kelly’s meds on the bedside table. Em checks the mini fridge in his room is stocked up on water and Gatorade. Once he feels good that he has done everything he could for now, he sets an alarm to wake Kelly up in an hour, and joins him on the bed. 

Kelly wants to sleep most of the morning, but his boyfriend keeps waking him up.

“I know you want to sleep sweetheart but you have a concussion. You can go back to sleep in a minute okay. Come on pet.” This goes on until nearly three. Kelly is still tired, but he hurts all over, and his head is killing him. 

Em is sitting on his bed, his back against his headboard, with his legs stretched out in front of him. Kelly’s head is pillowed in his lap, and he is carding his fingers gently through the blond hair. A notebook on his other side, so he can write some lyrics. 

“Hey Em, I’m kinda hungry.” 

“Does anything sound good to you?”

“Not really, sorry”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’ll figure something out. Will you be okay by yourself?”

“Yeah you don’t have to worry about me.”

Em untangled himself from Kelly and headed to the kitchen. He had thought ahead and ordered some chicken soup, and already had the good bread from the bakery Kelly likes, for his visit. He passes on the sweet treats he had ordered with the bread. Kelly’s stomach is probably not up to it, but he does snag a banana before heading back up.

Kelly is right where he left him. If it wasn’t for all of the bandages he would have thought his boyfriend had dozed off.  Kelly should be up, chatting his ear off, doing something ridiculous, and generally just moving about. It broke his heart to see him like this. 

For the next few hours Em resumes gently, petting Kelly’s hair, and softly talks to him, about anything he could think of. Kelly isn’t really listening, but Em didn’t expect him to. Kelly does fall back asleep later, and the older rapper gets to work. 

He takes his phone out, pulling up Paul’s contact, and seeing if he has any news, on the guys who attacked Kelly. He’s not really expecting much, but is hoping for something good. Paul messages him that there is some grainy security footage and the police have a few leads. It was better than Em expected, but not as good as he was hoping for. He then checks in with the two men he sent out this morning. Their news is a little better. They think they have the name of one of the men. 

Em would love nothing more than to beat the shit out of these pieces of shit, but he keeps himself in check. He has to be smart about this, beating the shit out of them would only make him feel better, not Kelly, and if he throws a punch, they could sue him, and it could make things messy for Kelly and him. People would want to know why he would go to such lengths for the blonde. 

He gets up, making sure Kelly will be okay for a bit before heading to his office to make some calls. 

Kelly wakes up, and is confused. His head really hurt, and his body felt like a giant bruise. It all came back, the concert, the attack, the hospital, and Em. He reaches an arm out, trying to feel where his boyfriend was. When he couldn’t feel anyone, he opened his eyes, which wasn’t great. Even the very dim light hurt his eyes, making his headache even worse, and his vision was still blurry. He shut his eyes quickly, trying to make the pain stop. Where was Em? Kelly didn’t know what to do. Em had left him by himself, and he was hurting so bad. 

‘Was Em upset with him? For being such a burden? For being so weak that he couldn’t defend himself? Does Em even want to be with someone so useless?’ Kelly knew that these thoughts weren’t true but his head hurt and he couldn’t concentrate. He had to do something though. Anything but lay there, with his thoughts sprilling. 

Kelly gingerly pushes himself up into a sitting position, careful of his shoulder and ribs. It wasn’t great but it was better. He then scoots to the side of the bed and tries to stand up. It takes a few tries, but he does manage to stand up, leaning heavily on the bed side table. He takes a few steps toward the bedroom door, before his knees give out, and he crumples to the floor. Tears begin to well up in his eyes from the physical pain, and from the feeling of complete failure. Not only was he in more pain now, he couldn’t even make it to the damn door. His thoughts came back, even worse. Kelly’s breaths began to grow quickery, and shallower the longer he lay on the floor, panicking over what Em seeing him, and realizing how useless he was.

Em had finished up his phone calls, and was heading back to Kelly, when he heard a weird sound. He knows that sound, but couldn’t remember where he heard it before, then it hits him. It’s almost the same sound he heard Kelly making, the night he found Kelly, having a panic attack.

“Shit” Em says, as he rushes to the door of his room, opening it quickly, to see Kelly, curled up on the floor, tears running down his face, and breathing very fast and shallow. Not wasting a moment, Em kneels down, gently scooping Kelly up into his arms, before heading to the bed. He sits down holding the injured man close, making sure not to aggravate any of his injuries more than they already had been, and gently starts rubbing circles on his back.

“Shh it’s okay, Colson. You are okay. I’m here. I promise I won’t leave again.” Em says, trying to calm the younger man down. 

Kelly falls asleep like that, in Eminem’s arms. His boyfriend doesn’t know why Kelly tried getting up, or what triggered his panic attack, but he’s going to ask him when he wakes up.

Kelly ends up spending the next two weeks with Em in Detroit, being doted on. Em hardly left his side, after the incident. The first few days were ruff. Em was waking him up every few hours because of his concussion; he was sore and didn’t want to move. His medicine was hard to keep down. Also his concussion made him dizzy, and nauseous; his vision would sometimes get blurry, and his head almost always hurt. Em was with him, helping him do everything, which made Kelly feel like dead weight, and doubt his self worth, but Em saw the signs. Em was there when the younger man was at his lowest, he knew the signs of Kelly’s depression and anxiety, and was always watching for them. He made sure that Kelly knew that he was not a burden, that there was no way he blamed the blond for the attack, that he still wanted him around, that he wasn’t useless, and that he still loved Kelly. 

Em would change his bandages, treat his wounds, help him around the house, and just take care of him. Whenever Kelly was hungry, Em brought him food he could handle, and he enjoyed, like the garlic tomato soup, and skyline chili. They also discovered that Em likes hand feeding Kelly, as much as Kelly likes being fed. Em always wants Kelly to eat more, and if hand feeding the blond then it is a win, win in his eyes.

When Kelly would say that he was sore the older rapper would run him a bath. The warm water felt good to his achy body. Em wouldn’t put any of his bath stuff in the water, worried it might aggravate something, but he did join Kelly a few times. 

Em kept him away from electronic screens as much as possible, but by the end of the two weeks, Kelly really wanted his phone back. He knew looking at his phone, and watching tv was bad for his concussion but he wanted to mindlessly scroll through instagram, see the new drama on twitter, and catch up with everything going on. 

The best part was when Em would sit with him most of the day. Sometimes he would literally sit with Kelly, sometimes with Kelly in his lap, and work on verses, other times he would cuddle Kelly, telling him about what's going on with friends, and people in general. Em holding him, petting his hair, checking on him, and even simply being near to make sure he was doing okay, made Kelly feel better. These actions made Kelly feel cherished, pampered, and loved, and for once didn’t feel terrible about being taken care of. He was learning the difference between being a burden, and being taken care of, and he liked it.

Em loved that Kelly was seeing the difference between wanting to doting on him, and being forced to take care of him. Hopefully Kelly continues to let Em take care of him, even when he’s not hurt. Slow days at home together, being domestic are his favorite. 

Note: EM’s feeding thing is a mix between his own body image issues, wanting Kelly to be healthy, and him actually enjoying feeding Kelly.

[phroyd]

American presidents lie. They always have. Just Google “Lyndon Johnson and the Gulf of Tonkin,” “Bill Clinton and NAFTA” or “George Bush and weapons of mass destruction.” Even Honest Abe likely told a fib or two.

But no U.S. president has ever lied as prolifically, constantly, insidiously and dangerously as Donald Trump. He never stops. He’s the Energizer Bunny of endless falsehood.

It’s enough to make even Orwell’s head explode.

Trump, who received votes from just one in four U.S. adults in 2016, claimed that he would have won the popular vote over Hillary Clinton were it not for the voter fraud of undocumented immigrants. The alleged criminal votes were never cast.

Trump called his 2016 Electoral College victory “The biggest electoral victory since Ronald Reagan.” It was no such thing.

Trump lied about the size of his inauguration crowd even as aerial photographs of the event contradicted his boasts.

He has repeatedly and preposterously claimed that the Latinx immigrant population is full of murderers, rapists and gang members. It is not.

Trump claimed that President Obama “had my ‘wires tapped’ in Trump Tower” just before his 2016 election victory. They were not.

He claimed to have as president-elect negotiated a deal to “save 1,100 jobs” at a Carrier plant in Anderson, Ind. He did no such thing.

He absurdly concocted a terrorist attack that never occurred, in Sweden, during his first month in office.

He claimed that the head of the Boy Scouts called him to say his speech was the best ever delivered to the Boy Scouts Jamboree. No such call ever took place. Trump’s terrible oration was widely reviled.

Trump claimed to have fired James Comey because the FBI director mishandled Hillary Clinton’s email scandal prior to the 2016 election, not because he was continuing to investigate Trump and the Trump campaign’s ties to Russia. That was another baldfaced lie.

He claimed that white-nationalist and neo-Nazi marchers in Charlottesville, Va., were “protesting very quietly,” and that liberal and left counter-protesters “didn’t have a [protest] permit.” False and false.

Trump laughably told oil workers in North Dakota that environmentalists “didn’t know why” they opposed the ecocidal, petro-capitalist Dakota Access and Keystone-XL pipelines. Ridiculous.

Trump lied repeatedly and viciously about the number of people who diedduring and after Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico.

He ludicrously claimed to have led a strong federal response to the devastating storm in Puerto Rico. (He gave himself a “ten.”)

Trump absurdly claimed that his former national security adviser Michael Flynn didn’t do “anything wrong.” Flynn was later convicted for lying about his communications with the Kremlin during Trump’s presidential transition.

Trump farcically claimed that Paul Manafort never played a major role in his 2016 campaign. (Manafort chaired the Trump campaign up through the Republican National Convention that year.)

Trump falsely claimed that a Justice Department inspector general report exonerated him of collusion with Russia and obstruction of justice. The report did neither of those things.

Trump ridiculously claimed that Michael Cohen was never a big player in his career or campaign. Cohen was Trump’s longstanding personal attorney and “fixer,” and he too has been convicted on federal charges.

Trump has claimed to know nothing about the illegal campaign finance payoff of Stormy Daniels and Karen McDougal. Cohen exposed that lie this summer.

After Cohen turned himself in to federal authorities, Trump said that Cohen pleaded guilty to two counts of campaign finance violations that “were not crimes.” False. The violations are indeed federal crimes.

Trump unbelievably claimed not to have known that his son and son-in-law met with Russians claiming to have dirt on Hillary Clinton in Trump Tower in June 2016.

Trump helped concoct the White House lie that the real subject matter of that June 2016 meeting was U.S. adoption policy.

He says that China “has been attempting to interfere in the upcoming 2018 elections.” There is no evidence to support that charge.

He falsely claims to be a self-made billionaire, something that The New York Times shows to have been a lie. (His father staked his entire business.)

Trump says that he and the Republican Party passed a “middle-class” tax “reform.” He certainly knows that they enacted a plutocratic tax cut, a great windfall for big corporations and the richest 1 percent.

Trump absurdly claimed before the tax cut that “we [U.S.-Americans] pay more taxes than anybody in the world” (we don’t) and that the tax “reform” would “cost me a fortune.”

He absurdly said that “public lands will once again be available for public use” while handing over 2 million acres to private corporations for coal mining, oil drilling, uranium extraction and other environmentally disastrous industrial activities.

He falsely claimed that he was legally compelled to order a “zero tolerance” border policy last spring that separated Mexican and Central American children from their parents.

In defense of his good friends atop the absolutist, head-chopping Saudi Arabian regime (which sends kill teams to torture, kill, and vivisect dissenting journalists in foreign embassies), Trump claims that Saudis have purchased $110 billion worth of military equipment from the U.S. and that this purchase creates “five-hundred thousand jobs,” later inflated to ““1 million jobs.” ”in the U.S.  His numbers here are absurdly exaggerated.

He claims without evidence that there are “people of Middle Eastern descent” in the latest Central American migrant “caravan” moving through Mexico towards the U.S.’ southern border.

He baselessly insisted that “Democrats are paying members of the caravan to try and get into the U.S. to harm Republicans in the midterms.”

He has sent U.S. troops to guard the border on the absurd lie that the beleaguered caravan constitutes a “national emergency.”

He preposterously claims that it is the mainstream media, which he calls “the enemy of the people,” and not him that has created our current climate of hatred and violence—even as he applauds a Montana congressman for body-slamming a young reporter.

Trump’s evasion of responsibility follows a hate-filled campaign and 21 months of ax-grinding in the Oval Office that has seen him call immigrants criminal gang members, murderers and rapists, while maliciously describing his political enemies and media critics and journalists as “evil,” “low lifes,” “low IQ” and “the most dishonest people on Earth.” Along the way, the openly sexist Trump has referred to women as “animals,” “dogs,” “horse-face,” “fat” and worse. The white supremacist who killed 11 people in a Jewish synagogue last Saturday was egged into violent action by Trump’s ridiculous and hateful caravan rhetoric.

The Trump Lie Machine is going into head-spinning and soul-numbing overdrive as the midterm elections draw closer.

Trump claimed earlier this year that leftist violence will break out across the country if Democrats reclaim Congress in the upcoming midterm elections. The absurdity speaks for itself.

Trump said in Arizona recently that immigrants had illegally taken over a city council in California. The claim was complete nonsense.

Trump has recently and insanely suggested that people are “rioting” in California “to get out of Sanctuary Cities. …They’re demanding to be released from sanctuary cities.” (This may be the single craziest thing I’ve ever seen Trump claim. It is truly bizarre.)

Trump is ridiculously claiming the Democrats will kick seniors off health insurance, abolish insurance protections for people with health problems, destroy Social Security, abolish U.S. borders and (I am not making this up) give “illegal” immigrants “free cars.” That’s right: “free cars” for “illegals.”

Trump repeatedly—36 times across seven political speeches this fall—called the Democrats “radicals.” Of course, the Democrats are a deeply conservative, Big Business-friendly, imperial/pro-military, and depressingly centrist apparatus. There isn’t a single genuine radical in their entire party.

Trump says that the “new platform of the supposedly ‘radical’ Democrats is to abolish ICE” (Immigrations and Customs Enforcement). That is flatly false.

Trump lies and distorts so relentlessly and profusely that tracking and fact-checking his false statements has become a full-time job for journalists at home and abroad.

One of these journalists is Daniel Dale, the Washington bureau chief of the Toronto Star. He calculates that Lyin’ Don has made four false claims per day since being sworn into the presidency 21 months ago with his hand on the Bible.

When Dale was first assigned the Trump beat in September 2016, he found the Republican candidate “so incessantly dishonest” that his habit of twisting and inverting reality required a specific focus “separate from the day-to-day news coverage I was doing.” Dale looked forward to being “freed from this [ugly] task” of covering Trump’s persistent untruths once Hillary Clinton prevailed, as was widely expected. Trump won “and so, [he] had to continue.”

What accounts for this endless mendacity and rhetorical manipulation? Speaking to “Public” Broadcasting System “NewsHour” anchor and Council on Foreign Relations (CFR) member Judy Woodruff last week, Dale theorized that Trump and the Republican allies and outlets who repeat his outlandish and bogus assertions want to drive media coverage and political discourse away from topics they wish to avoid—health care, the Mueller investigation and “anything else the president doesn’t want us to talk about,” such as Trump’s still unreleased tax returns, climate change and the party’s regressive tax cuts.

Dale is on to something there, no doubt, but the real meaning of the president’s Twitter-amplified Fibby Pulpit is deeper and darker than mere diversion and partisan spin. As Chris Hedges suggests in his latest book, “America: The Farewell Tour,” Trump and his party’s continuing defiance of reality suggests that the United States is sliding into “corporate totalitarianism”:

Trump and the Republican Party represent the last stage in the emergence of corporate totalitarianism. Pillage and oppression are intensified by the permanent lie. The permanent lie is different from the falsehoods and half-truths uttered by politicians like Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, and Barack Obama. The common political lie these politicians employed was not designed to cancel out reality. It was a form of manipulation. … But Clinton did not pretend that NAFTA was beneficial to the working class when reality proved otherwise. Bush did not pretend that Iraq had weapons of mass destruction once none were found.

The permanent lie is not circumscribed by reality. It is perpetuated even in the face of overwhelming evidence that discredits it. It is irrational. Those who speak in the language of truth and fact are attacked as liars, traitors and purveyors of ‘fake news.’ They are banished from the public sphere once totalitarian elites accrue sufficient power, a power now granted them with the revoking of net neutrality. … “The result of a consistent and total substitution of lies for factual truth is not that the lie will now be accepted as truth and truth be defamed as a lie, but that the sense by which we take our bearings in the real world – and the category of truth versus falsehood is among the mental means to this end – is being destroyed,” Hanna Arendt wrote in The Origins of Totalitarianism. …

The permanent lie turns political discourse into absurdist theater. … Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin claims he has a report that proves the tax cuts will pay for themselves and will not increase the deficit – only there never was a report. … The permanent lie is the apotheosis of totalitarianism. It no longer matters what is true. … When reality is replaced by the whims of opinion and expediency, what is true one day becomes false the next. Consistency is discarded. Complexity, nuance, and depth and profundity are replaced with the simpleton’s faith in threats and force.

Consistency is discarded. The Trump administration has cited “states’ rights” in trying to roll back federal requirements that out-of-date coal and nuclear plants be shut down, even as it endeavors to federally negate the state of California’s right to enforce comparatively stringent emission regulations.

Republican Congressional candidates run campaign commercials proclaiming their commitment to retaining the Affordable Care Act’s provision prohibiting health insurance companies from discriminating against people with pre-existing conditions at the same time that the GOP is viciously challengingthat provision in court.

Trump blames the nation’s bourgeois media and a timid, centrist Democratic Party for the hatred, incivility and demonization that pollute U.S. politics while he calls his opponents “evil” and celebrates violence against liberals and journalists.

It is important to understand, as Hedges does, that the Trump-led assault on veracity, evidence and our very ability to separate truth from falsehood has been able to gain traction only because a decades-long corporate coup has devastated and discredited public education, academia, organized labor and the legal and criminal justice systems. It has done all this and more while turning the Democratic Party into what the late Princeton political scientist Sheldon Wolin called the nation’s Inauthentic Opposition.

Think of this distinctively American “corporate-managed democracy” and “inverted totalitarianism” as the nation’s pre-existing authoritarian condition for the rise of an Amerikaner-style fascism.

In the face of what an authoritarian like Trump and his white-nationalist Republican Party have done over the last two years of one-party rule—an annulment of what’s left of the U.S. Constitution’s much-ballyhooed “checks and balances”—there’s no credible moral argument against the notion that progressives living in contested districts should choose the lesser of two evils in next week’s midterm elections. Adolph Reed Jr., Noam Chomsky and Arun Gupta’s warnings about the dangers of a Trump presidency have been richly born out. I, for one, should have paid them more heed.

Still, we on the left, what’s left of it, should nonetheless retain our capacity to be properly nauseated by a yard sign I recently saw in arch-liberal, super-blue Iowa City, Iowa. Surrounded by other, smaller signs with the names of a handful of dismal local and statewide Democratic candidates, it read “MAKE AMERICA GOOD AGAIN: Vote.”

Please. The notion that the richly bipartisan corporate totalitarianism of which Trump is the apotheosis can be reversed, and the nation made “good” simply by voting Herr Donald and the Republicans out of office is a childish fantasy.

That, too, is a Great Lie. As marchers celebrating a rare legal victory over a white supremacist U.S. police state in Democratically controlled Chicago chanted last month, “The whole damn system is guilty as Hell.” It’s the whole damn system that must be democratized from the bottom up. From the dismal dollar Democrats, The New York Times, The Washington Post, CNN, MSNBC, “P”BS, Tom Steyer, the Gates Foundation, the Brookings Institution, the CFR, the Atlantic Council, the Obama and Clintons on the so-called left, to the radically reactionary Republicans, the Koch brothers, the Mercers, the Heritage Foundation, the American Enterprise Institute, Fox News, the Weekly Standard, the Hudson Institute, the Hoover Institution, and the American Legislative Exchange Council, Breitbart, right-wing talk radio, the Sinclair Broadcasting Co., the Federalist Society and more on the actual right, imperialism, racial inequality and class rule have brought us to this menacing pre-fascist moment.

Paul Street

ContributorPaul Street holds a doctorate in U.S. history from Binghamton University. He is former vice president for research and planning of the Chicago Urban League. Street is also the author of numerous books,…

Phroyd

[makistar2018]

Taylor Swift’s ‘Reputation’ Tour Documentary Is A Tribute To The Massive Joy Of Pop Concerts

CHLOE GILKE January 8, 2019

The best concert movie of all time doesn’t cut away to show the audience at all. Stop Making Sense, Jonathan Demme’s 1984 documentary about new wave legends Talking Heads, simply films the band onstage — no tricks, no complicated camera gymnastics. “Hi. I got a tape I want to play,” David Byrne tells the audience as he strolls out in his iconic giant suit. For 90 minutes, he and his band play to a silent crowd we never see onscreen. Stop Making Senseis praised by film nerds and music geeks alike for its singular ability to make you feel like you’re there at the show, capturing Byrne’s frenetic energy just as you’d witness it from a really, really good seat.

Stop Making Sense is a great movie, but it’s also a lonely movie. Watching a concert film with no crowd cutaways lets you see the whole performance without interruptions, I guess, but I buy tickets to concerts to get to dance in a room with people who love something as much as I do. The distraction of the crowd is the whole point. In the film, Byrne’s energy is rendered in full, but enjoying his performance without the feedback of the crowd feels deceitful.

Taylor Swift: Reputation Stadium Tour isn’t just full of incredible cutaways to the crowd. Swift’s Netflix special is a love letter to the audience at her shows, and to her fans in general. The special, filmed October 6 at Swift’s last US tour datein Arlington, Texas, is a masterful documentation of the magical energy at a pop show.

Swift didn’t come to my city for the Reputation tour — the closest show to me was the Arlington one, four hours away. Having just drained my concert funds following another pop artist around this summer, I couldn’t afford the cost of a ticket to Swift’s show. Since Arlington was the last stop of the US tour, some of Swift’s most devoted fans traveled from out of state (or out of country) to see her there, driving resale ticket prices sky high. And I certainly wasn’t the only Texan who wished to be there.

Not all fans can afford to go to shows, or live in cities where acts tour, but fans in the digital age have found ways to take care of each other and make sure that everyone can enjoy the thrill of a show. Through taking photographs (many of which are professional quality), taking videos of songs, and even streaming shows on Periscope (the biggest heroes of all), the lucky fans who are able to go to a performance share memories with their sisters who can’t make it. Phone cameras are so good now that the fan-shot videos often look like they’re professionally filmed, and the audio is good enough that you don’t feel like you missed too much by not being there.

Still, the fact that Swift decided to release a professionally shot film of her tour is incredible. With free reign over the whole AT&T Stadium, director Paul Dugdale is able to capture the massive scope of the production from every angle. For a lot of the show, he keeps a Stop Making Sense-esque medium close-up on Swift like the jumbo screens at concerts do, so you can see her facial expressions and watch the minutiae of her choreography. But sometimes he films from the tip-top nosebleeds of the stadium, making Swift and her dancers look like ants three stories below, and from the back of the floor, where Swift is dwarfed by the thousands of fans that stand in front of the camera. You could make the argument that the constant switching of POV is obtrusive, but if Dugdale just set up a camera right in front of the stage and let Swift dance in front of it, you wouldn’t get a full sense of how giant the stadium she’s playing in is.

There are plenty of neat visual tricks to satisfy fans who were at the shows, too. Each member of the audience had a light-up bracelet because Swift said she “wanted to make sure I could see every single one of you” from the stage, and Dugdale sweeps around the 50,000+ matching lights with a sick aerial shot, making the crowd look like a whole city. When Swift walks down the catwalk mid-show, it’s cool to see the camera trailing her from behind as she says hello and touches everyone’s hands. (If you’ve ever been on the catwalk at a show like this, your view is usually of the inside of someone else’s armpit.)

Because this is a professionally filmed concert special, the audio is crystal-clear and beautiful, with the crowd quieted down so viewers at home can hear Swift best. But during her B-stage performance of fan favorite “All Too Well,” even the best audio efforts can’t cut out how loud the fans were singing along. Swift, practiced and gracious in her stage banter, is genuinely moved by how much people seem to love the song that once was such a fresh wound. Swift marvels at how many people have lyrics to the song inked “underneath their skin,” and shares her thoughts on how other people’s interpretation and co-optation of the song has given it a new, less painful, meaning for her. “You turned this song into a collage of memories watching you scream the words to this song,” she says, before her voice is swallowed up by the crowd.

The end credits of the movie show Swift and her crew hugging it out backstage, cross-cut with fans wiping their melting glitter and mascara and walking through the emptying stadium, back to their cars and real life. The footage of Swift, an intimate backstage peek, appears onscreen next to young girls hugging one another, mothers pulling their children out of seats, friends saying goodbye until next tour. The people who filled these stadiums were just as much a part of the magic as the people who made the incredible stage production happen, and the concert film is a tribute to all the joy they experienced in those rooms. For the people who were there, I imagine it’s a beautiful rendering of those memories. For those of us who weren’t, it was a lovely way to experience the Reputationtour and see Swift perform without breaking the bank.

Because, however grand the spectacle of the Reputation tour was, the real spectacle was seeing 50,000 people who all love the same thing gathered in one place, loving that thing. Anybody can set a bunch of cameras up and film a performance, but it’s harder to capture the scope of a feeling and the energy of a room. Taylor Swift: Reputation Stadium Tour honors the sacred joy of her performance that night, and the people who made it happen.

If you have a Netflix account, check out the film here.

Uproxx

[buckv-barnes]

Ace Comic Con Panel - Sebastian’s Q&A

full video - part one | two | three

note: i’ve put brackets around some of the fan questions that you might have heard about or you don’t want to read :)

Kevin Smith: -Give it up for Bucky Barnes himself - Sebastian Stan.

Sebastian Stan: What an intro, thank you so much. Thank you.

KS: Don’t be weird, sit right here man.

SS: This couch-

KS: Come on closer, it’s not like we’re in a movie theater like, you sit over there. How are you sir?

SS: No, i’m good. I’m just seeing this couch is big for three. But of, course there’s only one. You know, I’m the only one here, of course, because Tom Holland is two hours behind. “Two hours behind.” And he’s not gonna be here with me. So, I wonder why that is?

KS: He doesn’t like sharing the stage with you?

SS: No, no he doesn't. I actually heard a rumour from Joe that said, you know, he was like Holland doesn't want to have any scenes with you and Mackie. And I was like c'mon that's a joke. Like you know, the whole things a joke. There might be some truth to it, but I don't know.

KS: It was after that first experience in Civil War like, 'I’m done with these guys?'

SS: Yeah, maybe. That might have been it, or just any other times we walked into each other sort of, you know like, on the lot, or on the set or whatever. He doesn't, you know, he just seems to be very after his own needs.

KS: He's not looking after Bucky's needs is what you’re saying?

SS: No, he's looking at the Downey camp like, 'When am I going to have that camp?' That's kind of what he's like. Anyway.

KS: We're gonna tell him when he comes out here and see if he cries.

SS: Please do.

KS: What, er, take us back to the beginning, when you first find out you're going to be in 'Captain America: The First Avenger'. Did they tell you, this character, could keep going? Was there plans at that point?

SS: Yeah, I mean they, you know, they did talk about that, and-, but it was a very strange kinda conversation, because there was nothing definitive about it, just sort of like- 'Look we'd like to see this go that way one day, if we're lucky enough and the movies doing(?) well.' And I was like, 'Great, that sounds great. Let’s do it.' But, yeah, I didn't necessary think that was going to happen. I just, it was good they told me because I, tried to think about the future when we were shooting that first movie and just hopefully, lay in stuff that may, be able to track later in the movies and the character.

KS: So, when you were shooting, ‘The First Avenger’, and ‘Bucky, dies’, for all intensive(?) purposes, there is no guarantee you can come back, you’ll be like, ‘this may be my death scene’.

SS: Well, you know I had a little guarantee, I’ve said this before. The first time I fell off the train, I did only have the one arm. I had a green sleeve, meaning that they were going to do something with it. And I was like this is good, that means we could probably, maybe, that’s where it’s gonna go. And then we ended up re-shooting that scene without the green sleeve, and I was like, ‘Oh’. Maybe, I am dead. Which is kind of- am now?

KS: Apparently, I’m not Bucky as much as I Sucky(?) and they cut me out of the movie. So when do you find out though, like hey man, next movie your character’s right in the title with the main character?

SS: Well, I pretty sure, the way I found out about that title was, a friend of mine called me from Comic Con and said, ‘Dude, you’re in the movie.’ And I was like, ‘Oh, really?’ and they were like, ‘Yeah! Because the title is your characters’ in the title.’ (note: that is how he said it!) And that’s how I found out.

KS: What was it like as an actor, I’m sure you were never ‘Man, I wanna be in blockbusters’, but eventually it happened. What was it like, when somebody’s like you’re going from playing a very sporting character in the first movie to, it’s going to be your movie, your co-sharing that movie, the second time around?

SS: It’s probably a lot of pressure when but not, you feel a little scared, I certainly was. I don’t- You rise up to the challenge, I mean, it’s good to be scared. Right? It’s good thing and there was a real opportunity there for me and, in a sense of like taking the character in that direction. I welcomed it. But again, I never- I’m used to it now, I never know where they’re going to take that situation. I didn’t even know what happened in the last movie (Infinity War) until we were shooting it.

KS: I spoke to Elizabeth (Olsen) and Paul Bettany this morning, and we were talking about the ending in Infinity War, and they were like, the Russo’s pulled them into a van and just before they shot the scene they were like, this is the ending of the movie. That’s how they found out about it. Did you get the van treatment as well?

SS: I know the van they’re talking about. I said, I’m not going in that van.

KS: You were raised right, you had smart parents.

SS: I was like, I wanna be around people when they tell me this. But yeah, this is when you disappear. I was like, ‘what does this mean? Really?’ or, I don’t know, it was right on the day. It’s kind of amazing, the Russo’s, if you think about it you have- If you think about it my character makes sense to be in the dark, in a way, he sort of is in the dark. Just the way they were able to put that movie together is fascinating. It was kind of exciting for all of us because when we were sitting there at the premiere, we were seeing it for the first time.

KS: Something as spiralling as that, I imagine, it’s hard to keep track of a movie, you’re almost in every scene, something like Infinity War you’re like ‘Wait, we’re in Wakanda. What’s going on in space? Don’t worry about it.’

SS: Yeah, which is what the character sort of got as a message anyway. It was sort of like, you’re needed again, so if you wanna gain anybody’s trust, you better go with the flow.

KS: The movies like this in terms of other performances an actor gets to do, a lot of it is physical, there’s a lot of action and what not. How long in advance, I’ve always wondered, everyone in these movies is in impeccably in shape. Sooner or later they’ll be like, ‘Take you shirt off!’ and we’ll see dudes with their shirts of which I know makes me feel bad. (Crowd screaming) He’s not going to take his shirt of.

SS: They’re not asking Anthony Mackie to take his shirt off. He’s up on those wires anyway.

KS: How long before the movie begins do you have to start getting in shape? Getting physical? Or is that normal a part of your regime anyway? Or do you have to double it up in a marvel movie?

SS: No, I mean it becomes an all-around routine because when you’re not working that’s kind of what you’re doing for your sanity. Depends, you start out with a goal and then when you start shooting, there’s no way you make it to the gym at like 4 in the morning. You still try but you shoot all day, your sweating a lot and losing a lot of weight. So, by the end of the movie everybody is at least 10 pounds less when they started.

KS: Is that right? Making one of these Marvel movies is the good way to lose weight?

SS: It kind of is. Here’s the thing, if your shooting in Atlanta, it’s really hot down there and then you’re strapped in these really tight outfits and your moving constantly, running around. Your body is like a furnace burning, burning, burning.  We all go through some stress your making a movie.

KS: Bro, look at me. I never lose weight.  On movies it’s the opposite, I gain 10-15 pounds like, this looks good. It’s free? I’ll take it.

SS: I’ve definitely done the- Because you’re waiting around too, so that’s the other thing. You’re always waiting around. I’ve definitely done that part, I know what you’re saying. Fortunately with these, it’s the moving around, and you start having a lot of- your ego is pretty high and you’re like, I’m gonna do the stunts, I’m going to do as much as I can. But then when you’re doing it on the eighteenth take, your body is kind of wrecked by that point.

KS: So you, ‘Bring in that stunt person, please.’

SS: They might bring them in a lot earlier than that but they’re also the best of guys. I mean those guys really make those action sequences, Sam Hargrave and James Young were just, all the way back to the ‘Winter Soldier’. In a way they reinvented the Captain America fighting style.

KS: That second one is badass, it sorts of, it’s the boat at the beginning and just takes everybody out (?). There has been 3 Captain America movies, and you’ve been in each one of them. You got to have a favourite, which one? Is it ‘The Winter Soldier’?

SS: Yeah, I really liked that one, that one has-

KS: It’s got a lot of Sebastian in it, so yeah

SS: The Winter Solider? No! I mean the Civil War does. The Winter Soldier was cryptic and was like strange. The whole process for that was a fun for me, I’m saying this and they’ll be like ‘perfect! Lets never write a line for him again.’ I didn’t have a lot of lines for that movie. It was all kind of like, trying to tell a story physically and it was interesting in a way, I guess.

KS: I haven’t thought about it, you have way more dialogue in Civil War than you do in The Winter Soldier.

SS: Yeah.

KS: The Winter Soldier was like ‘Who the hell is Bucky?’

SS: That’s it! And then you’re haunted by that line. I was haunted for a long time. I really think I was going in circles forever, like ‘who the hell, who the hell is Bucky, who the-‘ It’s just saying-

KS: You got one line in the movie and you gotta get it right man.

SS: It’s like the Aviator, where you’re like ‘show me the blueprints.’ ‘show me-‘ ‘who the hell is Bucky.’

KS: Excellent pull on the Aviator, man. Alright take us into the world of making marvel movies. Who are you friendly with? Who do you spend a lot of time with on set? Who’s your buddy?

SS: I mean, I think, Anthony and Chris obviously were the guys im closest to and I’ve spent the most time with and I genuinely feel like, we could not talk for a year and we’d pick it right up like nothing happened. Paul Bettany’s become a friend and I just love interacting with him, anything that I- I’ve got two scenes with him barely in the last movie and I just loved every minute of it. Chadwick’s actually really funny as well, he has a sense of humour that many don’t see right away. It’s a good group of people. I don’t know. Paul Rudd is a- Can’t keep a straight face around him. A lot of great people.

KS: It’s awesome to hear, you just call him Chadwick. The rest of us calls him Chadwick Boseman and you just call him Chadwick, and you can just leave it right there, because ‘I actually know the Black Panther.’

SS: Well, in Civil War, he was kinda doing his own thing- may have done it in Black Panther- he was doing a bit of a method acting situation. He was not interacting much with people, he was off on his own.

KS: Oh really, so he was like the character, I got to stay disconnected-

SS: I was like, we weren’t really talking very much and I remember on that rooftop scene in Civil War they we kind of going head to head. He and I didn’t exchange a lot of words, all I remember is that mask coming at me and these long arms coming at me, sweeping at me. So maybe it was effective, I don’t know. He’s just really, really talented.

KS: Take us into the airport sequence in Civil War which is the greatest comic book sequences ever put into film. There’s like 928 superheroes in this scene, so it was like a real clusterf-ck. What was it like to shoot it? Did it take place over the course of a couple of weeks?

SS: Months. It was months. We was always coming back to it. There was always another sequence in that bit that we hadn’t shot yet or needed to come back to. It’s surreal when you did have a bit of down time, I mean everybody was there interacting and kind of- you didn’t always have everybody there- but the few days you did, there was a couple of shots where we had everybody like the line-ups, and that was pretty special. I didn’t want be- I was always concerned like I was going to be the slowest runner and I was like, I can’t be the last guy getting across.

KS: Making a marvel movie is like a high school gym.

SS: Yes! It is, it is.

KS: I’m not letting Evans bet me!

SS: No. It gets a little bit like that… You didn’t have Hemsworth so that was a plus. He gets on set and you’re like I don’t even know why I go to the gym. Why would I even do that. I guess that it’s mental strength!

KS: I’m not even ‘Hemworthy’ enough to be here!

SS: Yes! Definitely not! He’s insane. It’s amazing.

KS: During the course of making these movies a lot of physicality, do you ever get hurt? Ever get injured?

SS: Yeah, for sure. You’re always getting something, some hit. You never know until later because the adrenaline is really high and you’re in the middle of it and want to keep doing it and its usually the next day, your trying to get out of bed and you can’t. You feel it. Yeah.

KS: At that point you’re like f-ck Marvel? Or do you work through it like money is good.

SS: You’re like, ‘I like my job.’ No! You’re always grateful, of course! The thing is you remember what it was like when you were little, like the cowboy and Indians thing. It’s sort of that thing that never leaves you in a way, you go to work and you go ‘wow’ this is my job.  You wanna try and sell that fight as best as you can and you can’t really sell it once in a while without landing a- something.

KS: You watch something- having worked in production, I know they edit it and stuff and I know they throw fake punches. Sometimes these cats go together so hard you had to have connected.  

SS: Oh! I’m sure, it’s happened a million times!

KS: What is your best memory of making a Marvel movie so far? Happiest moment, best day so far? Or in post, cause selling the movies seem like you have a lot of fun and going out on the press circuit and stuff.

SS: I’ve never been on a press- world press tour, for anything before, that was pretty special. Just going to different places and going to Asia for the first time is still a big memory for me cause I’ve never been and you see how everybody is so excited about the movies over there and then the same in Europe. You never get over that, you never get tired of that. I think that at the end of the day going home at night and feeling like you know your part of a good goal and everybody is on the same page. You wanna make the best possible product- the thing you can. And people are looking out for you that way, it doesn’t feel like- you can be in an environment where you feel like people are competitive, where it’s weird and something. Other than trying to run fast you don’t really feel- everyone’s on the same team with this one.

KS: Alright, I’m going to open up to these cats. We’ve got two microphones right there, and people are jumping up to them right now. We’re going to start on this side…

(Fan gets attacked by the mic, Kevin replies with don’t let it break your nose. Just a fyi.)

Fan 1: First of all, I love you.

SS: I love you too.

Fan 2: What’s the worst part of being an actor? What’s the worst things that happen.

SS: Oh god, probably, falling in love with a project and then not seeing it happen and having it fall apart right before you’re shooting. That’s happened to me a few times. Or hearing the word ‘No’ over and over again, that happens a lot too.

KS: A lot of rejection in this business.

SS: Yeah, you do, you have it but there’s a way to use that to come back to it. Stronger or something.

Fan 1: Ok, cool. Another question, what’s it like working with Robert Downey Jr.?

SS: The guy is a legend. I don’t know, I grew up on Chaplin and all those movies, you never know with him, you’re gonna end up with a real reaction, you never know what’s coming at you. He’s so quick and witted, in the moment it always amazes you.

KS: How close does he stay to the page? I’ve always wondered. He sounds like he (makes it up?) dialogue. Am I wrong?

SS: He does and he doesn’t. He will do it a few times. That’s the thing, he says it so naturally, you go ‘was that even written?’ once he’s done it a few times, I feel he can’t help himself, he’s got to do something different each time. He keeps it new, that kind of thing.

(Sketch book fan!)

Fan 3: I was wondering if you wanted to look at my sketch book?

SS: I would gladly look at your sketch book. Come find me after? (looking at Kevin) Is that what you say?

KS: Can we pass it up here? While we answer the next question? We can use everybody just passing forward. If you don’t get it back, Sebastian stole it.

SS: Yeah, it would be me.

Fan 3: That’s fine as well.

KS: Send it up! We’ll get it into his hands. Meanwhile, we’ll jump over here and jump back to you for a review of your portfolio.

Fan 4: If Bucky got hold of the infinity gauntlet, what do you think he would do with it?

(Background fan: Deep important question!)

KS: It’s a great question.

SS: It is a great question. There’s only one place he would go and that’s back in time! (sebastian’s now received the book) Yeah, he’d probably go back in time. Try to fix all the things he’s done wrong, for starters. Maybe… Not get on that train? I don’t know.

SS: (towards sketch book fan) This is really great, by the way! (looking through) Oh my god, hello!

KS: Flip it this way.. This is legit, man! I know you didn’t ask me, but excellent job!

SS: A lot of complex things going on there. Oh my god, you’re very talented. Nice recurring theme.

(Kevin notices Loki as a snake)

SS: Each one of these pictures is like my worst nightmare. Pretty much.

KS: Want him to tag the book for you, while he’s got it?

Fan 3: Sure. Why not.

KS: (Sebastian signs the book) He wrote, ‘I drew this.’

SS: This is really great. Keep drawing! Don’t stop!

(Here’s one of my warnings! Slightly awkward)

Fan 5: Before I ask my question, my brother is a huge fan of the Captain America franchise. He has a group that he cosplays with, a group of friends. He plays Captain American and his friend, N, is Bucky, obviously. I was wondering if you could give a quick, hello to my brother and his friend?

SS: Hello-

Fan 5: Wait, not ready!

SS: This is amazing. Hello N, and the brother!

Fan 5: My question is: I fell in love with you first when I saw you as Jefferson at the time. By the way, I love you.

SS: I love you too.

Fan 5: You play a lot of characters that, deal with a lot of heavy-

SS: Issues?

Fan 5: No! They really deal with hard emotions. It’s sometimes difficult as an actor to reach that place and it’s hard to come back from that. So I’m wondering, actor to actor, how do you not let the negative emotions that you portray in characters affect you and how do you translate over to- you! How do you keep them separate? Cause you’re always this happy puppy.

SS: Wow, that’s…

KS: Well happy puppy, what do you say?

SS: Yeah, exactly. I don’t know if I’m a happy puppy all the time. No-one really is right? I think you have to try and not isolate yourself. It’s who you keep around in your life, that’s why it’s so important, your family and friends, who you trust. You can’t lose that sense of ground that is you, yourself. If I’m away somewhere on set, I try to check in with people and it’s ok to check in! I think people are so scared sometimes to admit that ‘I’m not having a great day!’ like, ‘what’s up, what’s going on?’ I think it’s okay to say that, and one of your friends is going to call you back.  Please tell people when you’re not having a good day! That’s what I do I guess.

KS: I’m going to ask you a quick question. When you play Bucky, you’re playing a character that carries expectation with him. People be like, ‘I’ve been reading this character in the books since I was a kid.’ So, there’s a certain amount of pressure there and there’s freedom because nobody knows what Bucky sounds like, until they put him on film for the first time and it’s you, so you get to set the tone. But recently, you were on I, Tonya, right?  And so, in that case you had to play a person the world knew, somebody who was well documented on film and stuff. What was the difficultly in that and the marvel stuff?

SS: That has its own weird expectations, in its own way. Expectations is the biggest enemy no matter how you cut it. I think you have no choice to- it’s more mechanical, I just watched what I could on the guy (Jeff), over and over, I just listened to any audio I had of him over and over again. Until I could feel like it was becoming me. It’s tough because you have to adjust to something that already exists. But sometimes that’s good too! You know where you’re going. Bucky had source and material. But in the movies, like you said at the beginning, in the comic books, he was a kid.

KS: Yeah, there was nothing you could go off of.

SS: They came in and we like, okay we’re going to have him more of a bigger brother and have this guy whether or not enlist. It’s sort of it’s own pros and cons.

(LGBT fan)

SS: Hi, what’s up?

Fan 6: Nothing much.

SS: How’s the German Shepard? (Dog the fan has.)

Fan 6: The German Shepard is great. His name is R. As a gay man, I really appreciate it when you play gay characters. Do you feel like you’ll ever go back into playing and LGBT character?

SS: Yeah, why not? I would in a second. It’s always about the script, the story telling, what kind of obstacles a character has in their life and what they’re trying to get through and that doesn’t matter. We’re all fighting against something and we’re all facing something. We all want to change and get better at, that’s universal. It’s just about having the right story. If it happens, why not?

 (End of part one. Part two with Sebastian and Anthony Mackie)

note: sorry for typos and grammar mistakes. I tried getting this out quickly!

[officialyourdailyinspiration]

Loving Your Enemies

by J.C. Ryle

"But I say unto you that hear, love your enemies, do good to them who hate you, bless them that curse you, and pray for them who despitefully use you." - Luke 6:27-28

The teaching of our Lord Jesus Christ, in these verses, is confined to one great subject. That subject is Christian love and charity. Charity, which is the grand characteristic of the Gospel, the bond of perfectness, without which a man is nothing in God's sight, is here fully expounded and strongly enforced. Well would it have been for the Church of Christ if its Master's precept in this passage had been more carefully studied and more diligently observed.

In the first place, our Lord explains the nature and extent of Christian charity. The disciples might ask, Whom are we to love? He bids them, "love your enemies, do good to them that hate you, bless them that curse you, and pray for them that despitefully use you." Their love was to be like his own toward sinners--unselfish, disinterested, and uninfluenced by any hope of return. What was to be the manner of this love? the disciples might ask. It was to be self-sacrificing and self-denying. "Unto him that smites you on the one cheek, offer also the other." "He that takes away your cloak, forbid not to take your coat also." They were to give up much and endure much for the sake of showing kindness and avoiding strife. They were to forego even their rights and submit to wrong rather than awaken angry passions and create quarrels. In this they were to be like their Master--long-suffering, meek, and lowly of heart. Our Lord condemns everything like a revengeful, pugnacious, litigious, or quarrelsome spirit. He enjoins forbearance, patience, and longsuffering under injuries and insults. He would have us concede much, submit to much, and put up with much rather than cause strife. He would have us endure much inconvenience and loss, and even sacrifice some of our just rights rather than have any contention.

In the second place, our Lord lays down a golden principle for the settlement of doubtful cases. He knew well that there will always be occasions when the line of duty toward our neighbor is not clearly defined. He knew how much self-interest and private feelings will sometimes dim our perceptions of right and wrong. He supplies us with a precept for our guidance, in all such cases, of infinite wisdom. It is a precept which even infidels have been compelled to admire: "As you would that men should do to you, do you also to them likewise." To do to others as they do to us and return evil for evil is the standard of the heathen. To behave to others as we should like others to behave to us, whatever their actual behavior may be, this should be the mark at which the Christian should aim. This is to walk in the steps of our blessed Savior. If he had dealt with the world as the world dealt with him, we should all have been ruined forever in hell.

In the third place, our Lord points out to his disciples the necessity of their having a higher standard of duty to their neighbor than the children of this world. He reminds them that to love those who love them and do good to those who do good to them and lend to those of whom they hope to receive, is to act no better than "the sinner" who knows nothing of the Gospel. The Christian must be altogether another style of man. His feelings of love and his deeds of kindness must be like his Master's - free and gratuitous. He must let men see that he loves others from higher principles than the ungodly do, and that his charity is not confined to those from whom he hopes to get something in return. Anybody can show kindness and charity when he hopes to gain something by it. But such charity should never content a Christian. The man who is content with it ought to remember that his practice does not rise an inch above the level of an old Roman or Greek idolater.

In the fourth place, our Lord shows his disciples that in discharging their duty to their neighbors they should look to the example of God. If they called themselves "children of the Highest," they should consider that their Father is "kind to the unthankful and the evil," and they should learn from him to be merciful, even as he is merciful. The extent of God's unacknowledged mercies to men can never be reckoned up. Every year he pours benefits on millions who do not honor the hand from which they come or thank the giver of them. Yet every year these benefits are continued. "Seed time and harvest, summer and winter, never cease." His mercy endures forever. His loving kindness is unwearied. His compassions fail not. So ought it to be with all who profess themselves to be his children. Thanklessness and ingratitude should not make them slack their hands from works of love and mercy. Like their Father in heaven, they should never be tired of doing good.

In the last place, our Lord assures his disciples that the practice of the high standard of charity he recommends shall bring its own reward. "Judge not," he says, "and you shall not be judged; condemn not, and you shall not be condemned; forgive, and you shall be forgiven; give, and it shall be given unto you." And he concludes with the broad assertion, "With the same measure that you mete withal, shall it be measured to you again." The general meaning of these words appears to be that no man shall ever be a loser, in the long run, by deeds of self-denying charity and patient long-suffering love. At times he may seem to get nothing by his conduct. He may appear to reap nothing but ridicule, contempt, and injury. His kindness may sometimes tempt men to impose on him. His patience and forbearance may be abused. But at the last he will always be found a gainer, and often, very often, a gainer in this life; certainly, most certainly, a gainer in the life to come.

Such is the teaching of our Lord Jesus Christ about charity. Few of his sayings are so deeply heart-searching as those we have now been considering. Few passages in the Bible are so truly humbling as these eleven verses.

How little of the type of charity which our Lord recommends is to be seen either in the world or in the Church! How common is an angry passionate spirit, a morbid sensitiveness about what is called honor, and a readiness to quarrel on the least occasion! How seldom we see men and women who love their enemies and do good hoping for nothing again, and bless those that curse them, and are kind to the unthankful and evil. Truly we are reminded here of our Lord's words, "Narrow is the way which leads unto life, and few there be that find it."

How happy the world would be if Christ's precepts were strictly obeyed. The chief causes of half the sorrows of mankind are selfishness, strife, unkindness, and lack of charity. Never was there a greater mistake than to suppose that vital Christianity interferes with human happiness. It is not having too much religion but too little that makes people gloomy, wretched, and miserable. Wherever Christ is best known and obeyed, there will always be found most real joy and peace.

Would we know anything by experience of this blessed grace of charity? Then let us seek to be joined to Christ by faith and to be taught and sanctified by his Spirit. Let us understand that real, genuine, self-denying love will never grow from any roots but faith in Christ's atonement and a heart renewed by the Holy Ghost. We shall never make men love one another unless we teach as St. Paul taught, "Walk in love as Christ has loved us." Teaching love on any other principle is, as a general rule, labor in vain.

[howling--fantods]

An Excerpt of the Essay: David Lynch Keeps His Head by David Foster Wallace

I know a lot of you love David Lynch and this is an EXCELLENT defense and deconstruction of his work. The full essay is largely about the film Lost Highway, which was about to be released, and is 67 pages with 61 footnotes. The whole essay is incredibly entertaining and if you like to read, is worth it. You can find it here: x. This excerpt mainly concerns Blue Velvet and Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me. I put the footnotes at the end, I know it isn’t ideal, but it is hard when there aren’t pages.

9A. The cinematic tradition it’s curious that nobody seems to have observed Lynch comes right out of (w/ an epigraph)

“It has been said that the admirers of The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari are usually painters, or people who think and remember graphically. This is a mistaken conception.”

—Paul Rotha, “The German Film”

Since Lynch was trained as a painter (an Ab-Exp painter at that), it seems curious that no film critics or scholars(42) have ever treated of his movies’ clear relation to the classical Expressionist cinema tradition of Wiene, Kobe, early Lang, etc. And I am talking here about the very simplest and most straightforward sort of definition of Expressionist, viz. “Using objects and characters not as representations but as transmitters for the director’s own internal impressions and moods.”

Certainly plenty of critics have observed, with Kael, that in Lynch’s movies “There’s very little art between you and the filmmaker’s psyche…because there’s less than the usual amount of inhibition.” They’ve noted the preponderance of fetishes and fixations in Lynch’s work, his characters’ lack of conventional introspection (an introspection which in film equals “subjectivity”), his sexualization of everything from an amputated limb to a bathrobe’s sash, from a skull to a “heart plug,”(43) from split lockets to length-cut timber. They’ve noted the elaboration of Freudian motifs that tremble on the edge of parodic cliche—the way Marietta’s invitation to Sailor to “fuck Mommy” takes place in a bathroom and produces a rage that’s then displaced onto Bob Ray Lemon; the way Merrick’s opening dream-fantasy of his mother supine before a rampaging elephant has her face working in what’s interpretable as either terror or orgasm; the way Lynch structures Dune’s labrynthian plot to highlight Paul Eutrades’s “escape” with his “witch-mother” after Paul’s father’s “death” and “betrayal.” They have noted with particular emphasis what’s pretty much Lynch’s most famous scene, Blue Velvet’s Jeffrey Beaumont peering through a closet’s slats as Frank Booth rapes Dorothy while referring to himself as “Daddy” and to her as “Mommy” and promising dire punishments for “looking at me” and breathing through an unexplained gas mask that’s overtly similar to the O2-mask we’d just seen Jeffrey’s own dying Dad breathing through.

They’ve noted all this, critics have, and they’ve noted how, despite its heaviness, this Freudian stuff tends to give Lynch’s movies an enormous psychological power; and yet they don’t seem to make the obvious point that these very heavy Freudian riffs are powerful instead of ridiculous because they are deployed Expressionistically, which among other things means they’re deployed in an old-fashioned, pre-postmodern way, I.e. nakedly, sincerely, without postmodernism’s abstraction or irony. Jeffrey Beaumont’s interslat voyeurism may be a sick parody of the Primal Scene, but neither he (a “college boy”) nor anybody else in the movie ever shows any inclination to say something like “Gee, this is sort of like a sick parody of the good old Primal Scene” or even betrays any awareness that a lot of what’s going on is—both symbolically and psychoanalytically—heavy as hell. Lynch’s movies, for all their unsubtle archetypes and symbols and intertextual references and c., have about them the remarkable unselfish-consciousness that’s kind of the hallmark of Expressionist art—nobody in Lynch’s movies analyzes or metacriticizes or hermenteuticizes or anything(44), including Lynch himself. This set of restrictions makes Lynch’s movies fundamentally unironic, and I submit that Lynch’s lack of irony is the real reason some cineastes—in this age when ironic self-consciousness is the one and only universally recognized badge of sophistication—see him as a naif or a buffoon. In fact, Lynch is neither—though nor is he any kind of genius of visual coding or tertiary symbolism or anything. What he is is a weird hybrid blend of classical Expressionist and contemporary postmodernist, an artist whose own “internal impressions and moods” are (like ours) an olla podrida of neurogenic predisposition and phylogenic myth and psychoanalytic schema and pop-cultural iconography—in other words, Lynch is sort of G. W. Pabst with an Elvis ducktail.

This kind of contemporary Expressionist art, in order to be any good, seems like it needs to avoid two pitfalls. The first is a self-consciousness of form where everything gets very mannered and refers cutely to itself.(45) The second pitfall, more complicated, might be called “terminal idiosyncrasy” or “antiempathetic solipsism” or something: here the artist’s own perceptions and moods and impressions and obsessions come off as just too particular to him alone. Art, after all, is supposed to be a kind of communication, and “personal expression” is cinematically interesting only to the extent that what’s expressed finds and strikes chords within the viewer. The difference between experiencing art that succeeds as communication and art that doesn’t is rather like the difference between being sexually intimate with a person and watching that person masturbate. In terms of literature, richly communicative Expressionism is epitomized by Kafka, bad and onanistic Expressionism by the average Graduate Writing Program avant-garde story.

It’s the second pitfall that’s especially bottomless and dreadful, and Lynch’s best movie, Blue Velvet, avoided it so spectacularly that seeing the movie when it first came out was a kind of revelation for me. It was such a big deal that ten years later I remember the date—30 March 1986, a Wednesday night—and what the whole group of us MFA Program(46) students did after we left the theater, which was to go to a coffeehouse and talk about how the movie was a revelation. Our Graduate MFA Program had been pretty much of a downer so far: most of us wanted to see ourselves as avant-garde writers, and our professors were all traditional commercial Realists of the New Yorker school, and while we loathed these teachers and resented the chilly reception our “experimental” writing received from them, we were also starting to recognize that most of our own avant-garde stuff really was solipsistic and pretentious and self-conscious and masturbatory and bad, and so that year we went around hating ourselves and everyone else and with no clue about how to get experimentally better without caving in to loathsome commercial-Realistic pressure, etc. This was the context in which Blue Velvet made such an impression on us. The movie’s obvious “themes”—the evil flip side to picket-fence respectability, the conjunctions of sadism and sexuality and parental authority and voyeurism and cheesy ‘50s pop and Coming of Age, etc.—were for us less revelatory than the way the movie’s surrealism and dream-logic felt: the felt true, real. And the couple things just slightly but marvelously off in every shot—the Yellow Man literally dead on his feet, Frank’s unexplained gas mask, the eerie industrial thrum on the stairway outside Dorothy’s apartment, the weird dentate-vagina sculpture(47) hanging on an otherwise bare wall over Jeffrey’s bed at home, the dog drinking from the hose in the stricken dad’s hand—it wasn’t just that these touches seemed eccentrically cool or experimental or arty, but that they communicated things that felt true. Blue Velvet captured something crucial about the way the U.S. present acted on our nerve endings, something crucial that couldn’t be analyzed or reduced to a system of codes or aesthetic principles or workshop techniques.

This was what was epiphanic for us about Blue Velvet in grad school, when we saw it: the movie helped us realize that first-rate experimentalism was a way not to “transcend” or “rebel against” the truth but actually to honor it. It brought home to us—via images, the medium we were suckled on and most credulous of—that the very most important artistic communications took place at a level that not only wasn’t intellectual but wasn’t even fully conscious, that the unconscious’s true medium wasn’t verbal but imagistic, and that whether the images were Realistic or Postmodern of Expressionistic of Surreal of what-the-hell-ever was less important than whether they felt true, whether they rang psychic cherries in the communicatee.

I don’t know whether any of this makes sense. But it’s basically why David Lynch the filmmaker is important to me. I felt like he showed me something genuine and important on 3/30/86. And he couldn’t have done it if he hadn’t been thoroughly, nakedly, unpretentiously, unsophisticatedly himself, a self that communicates primarily itself—an Expressionist. Whether he is an Expressionist naively or pathologically or ultra-pomo-sophisticatedly is of little importance to me. What is important is that Blue Velvet rang cherries, and it remains for me an example of contemporary artistic heroism.

10A (w/ an epigraph)

“All of Lynch’s work can be described as emotionally infantile…Lynch likes to ride his camera into orifices (a burlap hood’s eyehole or a severed ear), to plumb the blackness beyond. There, id-deep, he fans out his deck of dirty pictures…”—Kathleen Murphy of Film Comment

One reason it’s sort of heroic tot be a contemporary Expressionist is that it all but invites people who don’t like your art to make an ad hominem move from the art to the artist. A fair number of critics(48) object to David Lynch’s movies on the grounds that they are “sick” and “dirty” or “infantile,” then proceed to claim that the movies are themselves revelatory of various deficiencies in Lynch’s own character, (49) troubles that range from developmental arrest to misogyny to sadism. It’s not just the fact that twisted people do hideous things to one another in Lynch’s films, these critics will argue, but rather the “moral attitude” implied by the way Lynch’s camera records hideous behavior. In a way, his detractors have a point. Moral atrocities in Lynch movies are never staged to elicit outrage or even disapproval. The directorial attitude when hideousness occurs seems to range between clinical neutrality and an almost voyeuristic ogling. It’s not an accident that Frank Booth, Bobby Peru, and Leland/“Bob” steal the show in Lynch’s last three films, that there is almost a tropism about our pull toward these characters, because Lynch’s camera is obsessed with them, loves them; they are his movies’ heart.

Some of the ad hominem criticism is harmless, and the director himself has to a certain extent dined out on his “Master of Weird”/“Czar of Bizarre” image, see for example Lynch making his eyes go in two different directions for the cover of Time. The claim, though, that because Lynch’s movies pass no overt “judgement” on hideousness/evil/sickness and in fact make the stuff riveting to watch, the movies are themselves a-or immoral, even evil—this is bullshit of the rankest vintage, and not just because it’s sloppy logic but because it’s symptomatic of the impoverished moral assumptions we seem not to bring to the movies we watch.

I’m going to claim that evil is what David Lynch’s movies are essentially about, and that Lynch’s explorations of human beings’ various relationships to evil are, if idiosyncratic and Expressionistic, nevertheless sensitive and insightful and true. I’m going to submit that the real “moral problem” a lot of cineastes have with Lynch is that we find his truth morally uncomfortable, and that we do not like, when watching movies, to be made uncomfortable. (Unless, of course, our discomfort is used to set up some kind of commercial catharsis—the retribution, the bloodbath, the romantic victory of the misunderstood heroine, etc.—I.e. unless the discomfort serves a conclusion that flatters the same comfortable moral certainties we came into the theater with.)

The fact is that David Lynch treats the subject of evil better than just about anybody else making movies today—better and also differently. His movies aren’t anti-moral, but they are definitely anti-formulaic. Evil-ridden though his filmic world is, please notice that responsibility for evil never in his films devolves easily onto greedy corporations or corrupt politicians or faceless serial kooks. Lynch is not interested in the devolution of responsibility, and he’s not interested in moral judgments of characters. Rather, he’s interested in the psychic spaces in which people are capable of evil. He is interested in Darkness. And Darkness, in David Lynch’s movies, always wears more than one face. Recall, for example, how Blue Velvet’s Frank Booth is both Frank Booth and “the Well-Dressed Man.” How Eraserhead’s whole postapocalyptic world of demonic conceptions and teratoid offspring and summary decapitations is evil…yet how it’s “poor” Henry Spencer who ends up a baby-killer. How in both TV’s Twin Peaks and cinema’s Fire Walk with Me, “Bob” is also Leland Palmer, how they are, “spiritually,” both two and one. The Elephant Man’s sideshow barker is evil in his exploitation of Merrick, but so too is good old kindly Dr. Treeves—and Lynch carefully has Treeves admit this aloud. And if Wild at Heart’s coherence suffered because its myriad villains seemed fuzzy and interchangeable, it was because they were all basically the same thing, I.e. they were all in the service of the same force or spirit. Characters are not themselves evil in Lynch movies—evil wears them.

This point is worth emphasizing. Lynch’s movies are not about monsters (i.e. people whose intrinsic natures are evil) but about hauntings, about evil environment, possibility, force. This helps explain Lynch’s constant deployment of noirish lighting and eerie sound-carpets and grotesque figurants: in his movies’ world, a kind of ambient spiritual antimatter hangs just overhead. It also explains why Lynch’s villains seem not merely wicked or sick but ecstatic, transported: they are, literally, possessed. Think here of Dennis Hopper’s exultant “I’LL FUCK ANYTHING THAT MOVES” in Blue Velvet, or of the incredible scene in Wild at Heart when Diane Ladd smears her face with lipstick until it’s devil-red and then screams at herself in the mirror, or of “Bob”’s look of total demonic ebullience in Fire Walk with Me when Laura discovers him at her dresser going through her diary and just about dies of fright. The bad guys in Lynch movies are always exultant, orgasmic, most fully present at their evilest moments, and this in turn is because they are not only actuated by evil but literally inspired(50): they have yielded themselves up to a Darkness way bigger than any one person. And if these villains are, at their worst moments, riveting for both the camera and the audience, it’s not because Lynch is “endorsing” or “romanticizing” evil but because he’s diagnosing it—diagnosing it without the comfortable carapace of disapproval and with an open acknowledgment of the fact that one reason why evil is so powerful is that it’s hideously vital and robust and usually impossible to look away from.

Lynch’s idea that evil is a force has unsettling implications. People can be good or bad, but forces simply are. And forces are—at least potentially—everywhere. Evil for Lynch thus moves and shifts, (51) pervades; Darkness is in everything, all the time—not “lurking below” or “lying in wait” or “hovering on the horizon”: evil is here, right now. And so are Light, love, redemption (since these phenomena are also, in Lynch’s work, forces and spirits), etc. In fact, in a Lynchian moral scheme it doesn’t make much sense to talk about either Darkness or about Light in isolation from its opposite. It’s not just that evil is “implied by” good or Darkness by Light or whatever, but that the evil stuff is contained within the good stuff too, encoded in it.

You could call this idea of evil Gnostic, or Taoist, or neo-Hegelian, but it’s also Lynchian, because what Lynch’s movies(52) are all about is creating a narrative space where this idea can be worked out in its fullest detail and to its most uncomfortable consequences.

And Lynch pays a heavy price—both critically and financially—for trying to explore worlds like this. Because we Americans like our art’s moral world to be cleanly limned and clearly demarcated, neat and tidy. In many respects it seems we need our art to be morally comfortable, and the intellectual gymnastics we’ll go through to extract a black-and-white ethics from a piece of art we like are shocking if you stop and look closely at them. For example, the supposed ethical structure Lynch is most applauded for is the “Seamy Underside” structure, the idea that dark forces roil and passions seethe beneath the green lawns and PTA potlucks of Anytown, USA.(53) American critics who like Lynch applaud his “genius for penetrating the civilized surface of everyday life to discover the strange, perverse passions beneath” and his movies are providing “the password to an inner sanctum of horror and desire” and “evocations of the malevolent forces at work beneath nostalgic constructs.”

It’s little wonder that Lynch gets accused of voyeurism: critics have to make Lynch a voyeur in order to approve something like Blue Velvet from within a conventional moral framework that has Good on top/outside and Evil below/within. The fact is that critics grotesquely misread Lynch when they see this idea of perversity “beneath” and horror “hidden” as central to his movies’ moral structure.

Interpreting Blue Velvet, for example, as a film centrally concerned with “a boy discovering corruption in the heart of a town”(54) is about as obtuse as looking at the robin perched on the Beaumonts’ windowsill at the movie’s end and ignoring the writhing beetle the robin’s got in its beak.(55) The fact is that Blue Velvet is basically a coming-of-age movie, and, while the brutal rape Jeffrey watches from Dorothy’s closet might be the movie’s most horrifying scene, the real horror in the movie surrounds discoveries that Jeffrey makes about himself—for example, the discovery that part of him is excited by what he sees Frank Booth do to Dorothy Vallens. (56) Frank’s use, during the rape, of the words “Mommy” and “Daddy,” the similarity between the gas mask Frank breathes through in extremis and the oxygen mask we’ve just seen Jeffrey’s dad wearing in the hospital—this kind of stuff isn’t there just to reinforce the Primal Scene aspect of the rape. The stuff’s also there to clearly suggest that Frank Booth is, in a certain way, Jeffrey’s “father,” that the Darkness inside Frank is also encoded in Jeffrey. Gee-whiz Jeffrey’s discovery not of dark Frank but of his own dark affinities with Frank is the engine of the movie’s anxiety. Note for example that the long and somewhat heavy angst-dream Jeffrey suffers in the film’s second act occurs not after he has watched Frank brutalize Dorothy but after he, Jeffrey, has consented to hit Dorothy during sex.

There are enough heavy clues like this to set up, for any marginally attentive viewer, what is Blue Velvet’s real climax, and its point. The climax comes unusually early,(57) near the end of the film’s second act. It’s the moment when Frank turns around to look at Jeffrey in the back seat of the car and says “You’re like me.” This moment is shot from Jeffrey’s visual perspective, so that when Frank turns around in the seat he speaks both to Jeffrey and to us. And here Jeffrey—who’s whacked Dorothy and liked it—is made exceedingly uncomfortable indeed; and so—if we recall that we too peeked through those close-vents at Frank’s feast of sexual fascism, and regarded, with critics, this scene as the film’s most riveting—are we. When Frank says “You’re like me,” Jeffrey’s response is to lunge wildly forward in the back seat and punch Frank in the nose—a brutally primal response that seems rather more typical of Frank than of Jeffrey, notice. In the film’s audience, I, to whom Frank has also just claimed kinship, have no such luxury of violent release; I pretty much just have to sit there and feel uncomfortable.(58)

And I emphatically do not like to be made uncomfortable when I go to see a movie. I like my heroes virtuous and my victims pathetic and my villains’ villainy clearly established and primly disapproved of by both plot and camera. When I go to movies that have various kinds of hideousness in them, I like to have my own fundamental difference from sadists and fascists and voyeurs and psychos and Bad People unambiguously confirmed and assured by those movies. I like to judge. I like to be allowed to root for Justice To Be Done without a slight squirmy suspicion (so prevalent and depressing in real moral life) that Justice probably wouldn’t be all that keen on certain parts of my character, either.

I don’t know whether you are like me in these regards or not…though from the characterizations and moral structures in the U.S. movies that do well at the box-office I deduce that there must be a lot of Americans who are exactly like me.

I submit that we also, as an audience, really like the idea of secret and scandalous immoralities unearthed and dragged into the light and exposed. We like this stuff because secrets’ exposure in a movie creates in us impressions of epistemological privilege, of “penetrating the civilized surface of everyday life to discover the strange, perverse passions beneath.” This isn’t surprising: knowledge is power, and we (I, anyway) like to feel powerful. But we also like the idea of “secrets,” “of malevolent forces at work beneath…” so much because we like to see confirmed our fervent hope that most bad and seamy stuff really is secret, “locked away” or “under the surface.” We hope fervently that this is so because we need to be able to believe that our own hideousnesses and Darkness are secret. Otherwise we get uncomfortable. And, as part of an audience, if a movie is structured in such a way that the distinction between surface/Light/good and secret/Dark/evil is messed with—in other words, not a structure whereby Dark Secrets are winched ex machina up to the Lit Surface to be purified by my judgement, but rather a structure in which Respectable Surfaces and Seamy Undersides are mingled, integrated, literally mixed up—I am going to be made acutely uncomfortable. And in response to my discomfort I’m going to do one of two things: I’m either going to find some way to punish the movie for making me uncomfortable, or I’m going to find a way to interpret the movie that eliminates as much of the discomfort as possible. From my survey of published work on Lynch’s films, I can assure you that just about every established professional reviewer and critic has chosen one or the other of these responses.

I know this all looks kind of abstract and general. Consider the specific example of Twin Peaks’s career. Its basic structure was the good old murder-whose-investigation-opens-a-can-of-worms formula right out of Noir 101—the search for Laura Palmer’s killer yields postmortem revelations of a double life (Laura Palmer=Homecoming Queen & Laura Palmer=Tormented Coke-Whore by Night) that mirrored the whole town’s moral schizophrenia. The show’s first season, in which the plot movement consisted mostly of more and more subsurface hideousnesses being uncovered and exposed, was a huge smash. By the second season, though, the mystery-and-investigation structure’s own logic began to compel the show to start getting more focused and explicit about who or what was actually responsible for Laura’s murder. And the more explicit Twin Peaks tried to get, the less popular the series became. The mystery’s final “resolution,” in particular, was felt by critics and audiences alike to be deeply unsatisfying. And it was. The “Bob”/Leland/Evil Owl stuff was fuzzy and not very well rendered,(59) but the really deep dissatisfaction—the one that made audiences feel screwed and betrayed and fueled the critical backlash against the idea of Lynch as Genius Auteur—was, I submit, a moral one. I submit that Laura Palmer’s exhaustively revealed “sins” required, by the moral logic of American mass entertainment, that the circumstances of her death turn out to be causally related to those sins. We as an audience have certain core certainties about sowing and reaping, and these certainties need to be affirmed and massaged.(60) When they were not, and as it became increasingly clear that they were not going to be, Twin Peaks’s ratings fell off the shelf, and critics began to bemoan this once “daring” and “imaginative” series’ decline into “self-reference” and “mannered incoherence.”

And then Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me, Lynch’s theatrical “prequel” to the TV series, and his biggest box-office bomb since Dune, committed a much worse offense. It sought to transform Laura Palmer from dramatic object to dramatic subject. As a dead person, Laura’s existence on the television show had been entirely verbal, and it was fairly easy to conceive her as a schizoid black/white construct—Good by Day, Naughty by Night, etc. But the movie in which Ms. Sheryl Lee as Laura is on-screen more or less constantly, attempts to present this multivalent system of objectified personas—plaid-skirted coed/bare-breasted roadhouse slut/tormented exorcism-candidate/molested daughter—as an integrated and living whole: these different identities were all, the movie tried to claim, the same person. In Fire Walk with Me, Laura was no longer “an enigma” or “the password to an inner sanctum of horror.” She now embodied, in full view, all the Dark Secrets that on the series had been the stuff of significant glances and delicious whispers.

This transformation of Laura from object/occasion to subject/person was actually the most morally ambitious thing a Lynch movie has ever tried to do—maybe an impossible thing, given the psychological text of the series and the fact that you had to be familiar with the series to make even marginal sense of the movie—and it required complex and contradictory and probably impossible things from Ms. Lee, who in my opinion deserved an Oscar nomination just for showing up and trying.

The novelist Steve Erickson, in a 1992 review of Fire Walk with Me, is one of the few critics who gave any indication of even trying to understand what the movie was trying to do: “We always knew Laura was a wild girl, the homecoming femme fatale who was crazy for cocaine and fucked roadhouse drunks less for the money than the sheer depravity of it, but the movie is finally not so much interested in the titillation of that depravity as [in] her torment, depicted in a performance by Sheryl Lee so vixenish and demonic it’s hard to know whether it’s terrible or a de force. [But not trying too terribly hard, because now watch:] Her fit of the giggles over the body of a man whose head has just been blown off might be an act of innocence or damnation [get ready:] or both.” Or both? Of course both. This is what Lynch is about in this movie: both innocence and damnation; both sinned-against and sinning. Laura Palmer in Fire Walk with Me is both “good” and “bad,” and yet also neither: she’s complex, contradictory, real. And we hate this possibility in movies; we hate the “both” shit. “Both” comes off as sloppy characterization, muddy filmmaking, lack of focus. At any rate that’s what we criticized Fire Walk with Me’s Laura for.(61) But I submit that the real reason we criticized and disliked Lynch’s Laura’s muddy bothness is that it required of us empathetic confrontation with the exact muddy bothness in ourselves and our intimates that makes the real world of moral selves so tense and uncomfortable, a bothness we go to the movies to get a couple hours’ fucking relief from. A movie that requires that these features of ourselves and the world not be dreamed away or judges away or massaged away but acknowledged, and not just acknowledged but drawn upon in our emotional relationship to the heroine herself—this movie is going to make us feel uncomfortable, pissed off; we’re going to feel, in Premiere magazine’s own head editor’s word, “Betrayed.”

I am not suggesting that Lynch entirely succeeded at the project he set for himself in Fire Walk with Me. (He didn’t.) What I am suggesting is that the withering critical reception the movie received (this movie, whose director’s previous film had won a Palme d’Or, was booed at the 1992 Cannes Film Festival) had less to do with its failing in the project than with its attempting it at all. And I am suggesting that if Lost Highway gets similarly savaged—or, worse, ignored—by the American art-assessment machine of which Premiere magazine is a wonderful working part, you might want to keep all this in mind.

Premiere Magazine, 1995

42. (Not even the Lynch-crazy French film pundits who’ve made his movies subject of more than two dozen essays in Cahiers du Cinema— the French apparently regard Lynch as God, though the fact they also regard Jerry Lewis as God might salt the compliment a bit…) 43. (Q.v. Baron Harkonen’s “cardiac rape” of the servant boy in Dune’s first act) 44. Here’s one reason why Lynch’s characters have this weird opacity about them, a narcotized over-earnestness that’s reminiscent of lead-poisoned kids in Midwestern trailer parks. The truth is that Lynch needs his characters stolid to the point of retardation; otherwise they’d be doing all this ironic eyebrow-raising and finger-steepling about the overt symbolism of what’s going on, which is the very last thing he wants his characters doing. 45. Lynch did a one-and-a-half-gainer into this pitfall in Wild at Heart, which is one reason the movie comes off so pomo-cute, another being the ironic intertextual self-consciousness (q.v. Wizard of Oz, Fugitive Kind) that Lynch’s better Expressionist movies have mostly avoided. 46. (=Master of Fine Arts Program, which is usually a two-year thing for graduate students who want to write fiction and poetry professionally) 47. (I’m hoping now in retrospect this wasn’t something Lynch’s ex-wife did…) 48. (E.g.: Kathleen Murphy, Tom Carson, Steve Erickson, Laurent Varchaud) 49. This critical two-step, a blend of New Criticism and pop pyschology, might be termed the Unintentional Fallacy. 50. (I.e. “in-spired,”=“affected, guided, aroused by divine influence,” from the Latin inpsirare, “breathed into”) 51. It’s possible to decode Lynch’s fetish for floating/flying entities—witches on broomsticks, sprites and fairies and Good Witches, angels dangling overhead—along these lines. Likewise his use of robins=Light in BV and owl=Darkness in TP: the whole point of these animals is that they’re mobile. 52. (With the exception of Dune, in which the good and bad guys practically wear color-coded hats—but Dune wasn’t really Lynch’s film anyway) 53. This sort of interpretation informed most of the positive reviews of both Blue Velvet and Twin Peaks. 54. (Which most admiring critics did—the quotation is from a 1/90 piece on Lynch in the New York Times Magazine) 55. (Not to mention ignoring the fact that Frances Bay, as Jeffrey’s Aunt Barbara, standing right next to Jeffrey and Sandy at the window and making an icky-face at the robin and saying “Who could eat a bug?” Then—as far as I can tell, and I’ve seen the movie like eight times—proceeds to PUT A BUG IN HER MOUTH. Or at least if it’s not a bug she puts in her mouth it’s a tidbit of sufficiently buggy-looking to let you be sure Lynch means something by having her do it right after she’s criticized the robin for its diet. (Friends I’ve surveyed are evenly split on whether Aunt Barbara eats a bug in this scene—have a look for yourself.)) 56. As, to be honest, is a part of us, the audience. Excited, I mean. And Lynch clearly sets the rape scene up to be both horrifying and exciting. This is why the colors are so lush and the mise en scene is so detailed and sensual, why the camera lingers on the rape, fetishizes it: not because Lynch is sickly or naively excited by the scene but because he—like us—is humanly, complexly excited by the scene. The camera’s ogling is designed to implicate Frank and Jeffrey and the director and the audience all at the same time. 57. (Prematurely!) 58. I don’t think it’s an accident that of the grad-school friends I first say Blue Velvet with in 1986, the two who were most disturbed by the movie—the two who said they felt like either the movie was really sick or they were really sick or both they and the movie were really sick, the two who acknowledged the movie’s artistic power but declared that as God was their witness you’d never catch them sitting through that particular sickness-fest again—were both male, nor that both singled out Frank’s smiling slowly while pinching Dorothy’s nipple and looking out past Wall 4 and saying “You’re like me” as possibly the creepiest and least pleasant moment in their personal moviegoing history. 59. Worse, actually. Like most storytellers who use mystery as a structural device and not a thematic device, Lynch is way better at deepening and complicating mysteries than he is at wrapping them up. And the series’ second season showed that he was aware of this and that it was making him really nervous. By its thirtieth episode the show had degenerated into tics and shticks and mannerisms and red herrings, and part of the explanation for this was that Lynch was trying to divert our attention from the fact that he really had no idea how to wrap the central murder case up. Part of the reason I actually preferred Twin Peaks’s second season to its first was the fascinating spectacle of watching a narrative structure disintegrate and a narrative artist freeze up and try to shuck and jive when the plot reached a point where his own weaknesses as an artist were going to be exposed (just imagine the fear: this disintegration was happening on national TV). 60. This is inarguable, axiomatic. In fact what’s striking about most U.S. mystery and suspense and crime and horror films isn’t these films’ escalating violence but their enduring and fanatical allegiance to moral verities that come right out of the nursery: the virtuous heroine will not be serial-killed; the honest cop, who will not know his partner is corrupt until it’s too late to keep the partner from getting the drop on him, will nevertheless somehow turn the tables and kill the partner in a wrenching confrontation; the predator stalking the hero/hero’s family will, no matter how rational and ingenious he’s been in his stalking tactics throughout the film, nevertheless turn into a raging lunatic at the end and will mount a suicidal frontal assault; etc. etc. etc. etc. etc. The truth is that a major component of the felt suspense in contemporary U.S. suspense movies concerns how the filmmaker is going to manipulate various plot and character elements in order to engineer the required massage of our moral certainties. This is why the discomfort we feel at “suspense” movies is perceived as a pleasant discomfort. And this is why, when a filmmaker fails to wrap his product up in the appropriate verity-confirming fashion, we feel not disinterest or even offense but anger, a sense of betrayal—we feel that an unspoken but very important covenant has been violated. 61. (Not to mention for being (from various reviews) “overwrought,” “incoherent,” “too much”)