Fine I'll talk about Bridgerton
One thing this season made really clear to me is that Lady Whistledown is in a way a coping mechanism. It was stared by a lonely, neglected, unhappy seventeen year old girl who felt like she could scream until she collapsed to the ground and it would be into a void because no one would fucking listen to her.
Her mother constantly berates and criticises her, her father (while alive) barely speaks to her and is seen off to the side drinking when he's meant to be chaperoning her, her sisters are openly cruel to her and are still favoured by their mother. She has few friends, and the two relationships she holds closest both have significant blocks to them, with Colin it's her unrequited feelings and..... tbh her and Eloise's friendship is a whole different post and while they clearly mean the world to each other, there where fundamentally issues long before Lady Whistledown was so much as a drop of ink. I think they are both at fault for them and I love both of them, but Eloise's biggest issue comes from just not listening to her and in general as a person having a bad case of tunnel vision and hyper focusing on certain things while completely missing others.
Pen is outcast from society from the moment she steps foot in it, ridiculed and despised by those around her and bullied by girls her age for literally no fucking reason. She is seen as unattractive and undesirable, she believes the fundamentally human want to be loved a silly childish delusion because she is told from every angle that she is not worth it. She's not even worth listening to.
I think her resentment and hurt had been building for a while, she's never under any assumption that she will be treated or seen better. How could she be? When she is constantly reminded how much she fails to be what is wanted or respected or valued, primarily by her own damn family. Still, she's a kind girl. She's sweet and attentive and a good listener, she's patient and reliable and, before Whistledown started, probably extremely loyal, if how much guilt she felt whenever she genuinely betrayed someone says anything. She's someone who has never felt or had any power, who has so much hurt and resent and bitterness from years of this shit building and building.
But she's also smart and witty and funny and extremely intelligent. She has a talent for writing and words and clearly has the potential to be successful. I think being pushed into society a year earlier than she wanted (again, because her mother wouldn't listen) pushed her over the edge. She wrote her observations, the things she learnt from being pushed to the side for so long down, and published them. I don't think she ever intended for it to be as big as it was, and I think the bigger it got and still gets the more in over her head she is. Because for once people listened, for once people cared, for once what she thought and said and worked for mattered.
It is a young girl gaining her first glimpse at power and being deeply unprepared for the consequences. When things go wrong and she doesn't know what to do and no one will listen to her as Penelope, this is the only way she can make them. No matter how disastrous the affects, using Whiseldown gets results, it just also hurts people, pushing her further and further down this cycle where Whistledown is one of the only thing that makes her feel better and allows her to process the things in her life, while hurting the people around her and making her more dependent on it.
She truly meant to give up Whistledown after the disaster with Eloise, but on that night she had her connection or trust from the two people who she cared about and who cared about her the most broken. With the fight with Eloise and then overhearing Colin she lost both of them in the span of an hour, what else dose she have aside from her writing?
And again at the ball in episode one. Even after a complete upheaval of her entire look she still fails to talk to those guys, she still isn't enough, it's proof it is not her youth or her mother influence something fundamental in her can't do this. Then Cressida rips her dress with Eloise standing right there, then Colin comes and (even tho she is incorrect) confirms to her that he too, is embarrassed by her. So what dose she do? When she's miserable and powerless? She writes. She takes it all out in Whistledown and says the (admittedly true which is why it hurt so much tbh) cruel things about Colin, which she regrets literally a day later after actually talking to him. Adding more guilt and keeping her stuck in this cycle.
It's a business definitely, and there are many parts of Whistledown she genuinely enjoys, but I don't think it's good for her. It hurts the people around her and it hurts herself, she's in over her head and definitely knows she should stop, but I don't think she knows how. She doesn't let herself rely on others enough to be okay without this one thing that has allowed her to cope and be heard and respected and valued. That's also why I think she couldn't have stopped before this season, now she's finally getting that, she's finally being listened to and respected and valued and being told she is worth something. Not by many people, and it is still too new to change the fundamental thought patters about it she has, but it's a start.
Now she just has to grapple with that fact that this thing that has given her a voice and found her comfort might just be the dealbreaker for the real people in her life who can actually offer her the love and care and respect she deserves and craves and has been denied for so so long. It sucks and it's a cycle she can't get out of now, she's made her own trap without knowing how she did it.
That's what happens when a 17 year olds coping mechanism continues and grows and expands for years, when people unknowing pay to see more of it, and when she doesn't really know what else to do. Whistledown is Pens choice and all her actions for better or worse, but it would not exist without the context of her life. It would not exist if Portia was a better mother, if she had better sisters or a better family. It would not exist of other girls her age were kinder to her, if they excluded her a little less. It would not exist if she were not seen as a lost cause for love before she had the chance to try. Lady Whistledown would not exist if someone just fucking listened to her.
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𝐃𝐏𝐱𝐃𝐂 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞/𝐖𝐈𝐏 — ‘𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬’ ᴘᴛ. 2
part 1
“Hey- wha- Danny!” Jason yelled in panic and jerked forward, hands on the ledge to look down and body ready to vault after his idiot as quickly as he could, but was stopped by a familiar cackle, a sudden burst of light, and Danny himself standing, no floating, in front of him with stark white hair and green eyes that were quite literally glowing.
What the fuck.
“What the fuck,” he parroted his thoughts. His lips still tingled from where Danny had pressed his own against them and it was all together enough to make his brain short circuit.
“Yeah, so, uh, hi?” Danny waved lamely which turned into even lamer jazz hands, “Surprise?”
Jason blinked. And blinked again. “What the fuck,” he repeated again, this time with feeling. Danny winced a little and launched into an explanation.
“So, you know I died? Well, apparently while I was dying my DNA was also being infused with, like, a shit ton of ectoplasm which made sure I didn’t all the way die but I also didn’t come all the way back and ended up as half-ghost half-living — halfa is actually the term we use, but that’s not super important right now —” his words were nearly blending together with how fast he was trying to explain, “And, oh! I can transform at will and have been fighting ghosts since I was fourteen because they come through the same portal that I well, you know, died in, and I may also have some super cool powers and technically be King-to-Be of the Infinite Realms because I beat the last King in combat and inherited the throne, sooooo,” Danny finally stopped his word vomit. “Questions?” He finished meekly.
Jason stared and stared before tilting his head back and groaning. “Of fucking course my boyfriend would be a fucking ghost king. I am never going to live this down.” He scrubbed a hand down his face and turned to see Danny grinning lopsidedly at him. “What now?” He asked warily, suddenly feeling like a long nap would do him wonders and, really, the concrete roof was absolutely not the worst place he’d slept on before, so maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea—
Danny floated closer and Jason’s attention was stolen by the fact that his legs had transformed into a trail of… mist? Gas? What were ghosts even made of? Jason didn’t know but the sight was disconcerting and a little more than a bit distracting, especially paired with the skin-tight suit that had taken place of Danny’s usual baggier clothing. He took it all in with fascination and still a hint of disbelief.
“Boyfriend, huh?”
His eyes shot back up to Danny’s green ones and he flushed a bit at how close he had gotten without Jason noticing. He pinched his lips together when the question sunk in.
Well, in for a penny and all that.
Danny’s grin widened even more but Jason didn’t give him the time nor satisfaction to say something witty; he gave into his desires and cupped Danny’s face, noting both how strange it was to not have to lean down whatsoever to look Danny in the eyes (since he was still, y’know, floating) and how cold his skin was (Danny had always ran cold, but this was different, like the complete absence of any underlying heat that blood and skin produced).
Danny’s grin morphed into something softer and surprised, as if Jason had caught him off guard. Good. See how he likes it.
“Yes,” Jason stated, voice a bit gruff but soft between them, and Danny’s eyes darted back to his own from where they had been staring at Jason’s lips. Score. “Boyfriend,” and then, because he was a gentleman, thank you very much: “Only if you want, of cour—“ Jason was cut off by another press of lips on his own, only this time he was prepared and held on tighter, not letting Danny pull back as quickly.
Their lips stayed pressed together, soft and gentle and it made Jason ache with something fierce. He wasn’t used to tenderness. He wasn’t used to getting what he wanted. He wasn’t used to anyone wanting him back.
When they finally pulled away it was only to lean their foreheads against each other. Danny let out a breathless laugh and nudged his nose against Jason’s in a way that made his stomach flip at the casual affection. “Yes,” Danny said with another quick peck to Jason’s lips, “Boyfriends.”
Jason couldn’t stop the small, crooked grin if he had even wanted to try (and he really, really didn’t). It had been a long time since he had felt this good. This happy. Sure, he’d gotten a lot better in the past couple of years since he came back full of boiling green rage and the itch for violence at his fingertips, but Danny was the one to make him want to be better. Jason finally wanted to come back to himself, to allow himself the grace to forgive and be forgiven and move towards a future that wasn’t bathed in blood and tainted by the Pit Rage. He wanted a better relationship with his family. He wanted to do his city proud. And he wanted Danny by his side through it all, apparent Kingly status and everything.
“Good,” Jason said, drinking in the sight of Danny’s own giddy grin that showed off the longer and more pointed canines that Jason was definitely not imagining dragging along his skin. No siree. He shuddered, and it was definitely from the cold that Danny radiated. Nothing else.
Danny seemingly felt the shiver and pulled back a little more and with a flash of light he was back to his messy black hair and blue eyes, standing on the ledge with his arms around Jason’s shoulders much like they were before he had tried to give Jason a heart attack earlier. The temperature warmed a few degrees and Jason noted the fact to ask about later. “Good,” Danny parroted and then let out a little sigh, “Though, we really do need to talk about this so you actually know what you’re getting into. There’s… there’s a lot I need to explain.”
Jason nodded in agreement. He couldn’t imagine that anything Danny had to tell him would change the way he felt, but he would very much like to know everything. “My place or yours?”
Danny grinned mischeivously, “What, not the Batcave? The sooner I disclose my identity to all your bats the less chance of me slipping that I know and being hunted for sport, right? Plus, I think I could use Batman and Red Robin’s help on a couple of things assuming they’re amenable.”
Jason shook his head immediately, not wanting to imagine how the conversation would go with his entire family there to harass them without them being a hundred percent prepared (and very curious about what exactly Danny could need Bruce and Tim’s help with).
“Absolutely not. I’m not letting that conversation happen with you there until I know they can all behave themselves and not be asses about it. Jason was especially worried about Bruce’s reaction considering the man’s trust issues and his invasive need to pry and leave no stone left unturned. His siblings would be nosy and insufferable with their teasing but at least Jason was used to their antics and could shield Danny from the worst of it by giving them the short rundown before the full question panel had to happen. No, better for Jason to learn it all first and be able to prepare them both for the inevitable shitshow.
Danny shrugged, “Probably best to go to my place anyway; I stole a bunch of tech from my parents and it’s way easier to explain everything with some visual examples.”
Jason arched a brow, “What kind of tech?”
Danny’s grin was down right devilish as he transformed once more with a flash of light and held out an inviting hand as he floated a few feet away from the ledge, “How do you feel about going ghost hunting?”
Jason had a sudden feeling that Danny was going to be the death of him, but, strangley, the thought wasn’t nearly as frightening as it should have been. Maybe Danny was onto something when he said dying once really put things into persepctive. After all, there were much worse ways to go.
He confidently stepped onto the ledge and grabbed the offered hand tightly, “Bring it on, Ghost King.”
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In the course of spiralling down an internet rabbit hole today, I found a truly excellent essay about the trials and tribulations of fandom: How To BNF Without Tears, by Walter A. Willis
If you are familiar with the term BNF (Big-Name Fan), you may have heard it in the context of early-aughts fandoms, or some configuration of superwholock. But this article is from 1954!
Please enjoy these excerpts:
Very well, let's consider a day in the life of this wretched Neofan. Brighteyed, the little fellow wakes early, listening for the tread of the postman. His ears are so sensitive to this faint sound that he will leap out of bed, every nerve quivering, when the man is a hundred yards away ….. whereas before he became a fan a whole battery of alarm clocks barely fluttered an eyelid.
It's me, I'm the wretched little fellow refreshing my AO3 inbox, nerves a-quivering
Consider now a day in the life of the BNF. He too is driven from pillow to post, but since he was up to two o'clock in the morning finishing an article he had promised for ten days ago, the postman has to knock twice to waken him. He staggers down the stairs, observing with a sinking feeling that the porch is covered with a layer of various sized envelopes[....]Some of the letters are from his friends, and he puts those in his pocket to be enjoyed later. Some are from self-appointed enemies, and he puts those aside until he feels stronger. The rest are from Neofen. Some of them want subscriptions to his fanzine. Some want information. Some want material for their fanzine. Nearly all of them are rude.
1954 equivalent of "RIP your inbox"
Now, on the way the BNF handles this mail depends whether he shall stay in fandom or retire suffering from chronic disenchantment like so many others[...]So I am going to suggest some rules which you might consider following when you become a BNF. (All that is necessary to become a BNF is to maintain a reasonably energetic standard of fanactivity for approximately two years.)
And then our friend Walter goes on to advise BNFs to "comment on as many first issues [of fanzines] as you can, and always find something to praise," "Always be polite and kind to Neofans," and to take the piss out of yourself: "Humourous attacks on you should be encouraged -- they add to the interest of fandom, rank as egoboo, and might give you something to write about." (Walter also warns on the dangers of attending conventions, and advises that you wear a false beard to maintain anonymity.)
Of course, I had to know: what fandom were these guys in?
So I did a little digging. Walter mentions a "Ken Potter" in his letter. Turns out Ken Potter ran multiple science fiction fanzines through the 1950's and 60's, including Brennschluss, Triumph and Scientifiction.
A scan of Brenschluss, containing such gems as "tho I did once kiss a girl" and "Isn't Fandom romantic!"
Additional glossary for some terms used in Walter's essay:
"Egoboo": A colloquial expression for the pleasure received from public recognition of voluntary work. Originated in science fiction fandom as early as 1947
"Hectoed" fanzine: A method of copying text and illustrations that fell out of fashion after the 1940's. It involves involves making a bed of gelatin, transferring a special carbon ink to the gelatin and then laying on and picking up pieces of paper.
"Faned": Slang for "fan editor," aka the editor of a fandom publication, usually a zine.
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