#watching that scene without the context of the scenes around it really just hammers in the lost potential of that dynamic

[many-gay-magpies]

watched a clip the other day of the scene where scott isaac and allison are in the argents' apartment being questioned by agent mccall and allison does her little showoff thing with naming all the weapons before pulling the smoke grenade to give them an escape and it was just like. god thats so sexy competent throuple energy of them jeff davis i am showing up at your house why did you take this from us

[rallamajoop]

The RE4 Remake and Luis Serra Navarro

I have a gazillion thoughts about the new RE4 remake, and a dozen different aspects I kind of want to talk about. But you’ve got to start somewhere, so let’s talk Luis.

I doubt it’d be controversial to call Luis “easily the most interesting new character introduced in this game.” We’ve got complex and questionable motivations, a bunch of plot-relevant backstory, and a bonus-serve of extra random details about his childhood – much of which is very easy to miss, and rewards you for paying attention. By the end of this game, I’m pretty sure I know more about Luis than I do about Leon, and I still have questions. He’s not just one of my favourite parts of this new game, he’s a perfectly little microcosm of all the ways the remake has reworked awkward aspects of the original – mostly for the better, but not without creating new problems in the process.

But to get into all that, let’s start back with the original Luis from 2004.

So, for context, I haven’t actually played the original RE4. Since getting into the franchise, I’ve been consuming past canon instalments mostly by the lazy strategy of watching cutscene compilations on youtube. I am fully aware of the important place RE4 has in gaming history, the way it defined 3rd-person-shooter over-the-shoulder-gaming (or, to use my preferred term, lookit-the-booty-shooty). I have watched Jacob Geller wax rhapsodic about multiple different versions of this game.

But for all that people remember about the original RE4, the plot rarely seems to be more than a footnote. And for my own money, all I can tell you is that either this is just not a gaming experience well-served being experienced through the youtube-only medium (hardly the stuff of serious critique), or me and the original RE4 just aren’t clicking somewhere. I’m all for campy horror (see everything I’ve ever written about the Hammer films just to begin with), but RE4’s sense of humour largely leaves me cold. And Luis is – again – a pretty good demonstration of the kind of record-scratch moments that made it so hard to get into.

You can find a compilation of all Luis' cutscenes here, for reference. Like the remake, Leon first finds Luis tied up and gagged in a village house – apparently the only un-infected person in the vicinity. His first act on being un-gagged is to ask for a cigarette – a decent little character-moment. Luis claims to be a former cop from Madrid, who quit because he felt his work went unappreciated. Given Luis’ general demeanour, it wouldn’t be surprising to learn he was actually let go for taking bribes or something, but that’s more of a vibe. When Leon admits he was a cop back in Raccoon City, Luis claims he ‘might have seen a sample of the virus in a lab at the department’, and… hang on, Madrid PD has T-Virus samples lying around? The hell? Where’s this going?

But we don’t find out, because the conversation is interrupted, and Luis makes a break for it.

As in the remake, Luis’ next scene is to show up for the cabin siege scene, where he backs up Leon with a handgun. Cool, that tracks with the whole ‘former cop’ backstory.

Luis gets two further appearances, though the first mostly consists of him running up to say “I’ve got something for you guys! What… oh, shit, I must have dropped it,” and going away again, and it’s exactly as awkward as it sounds. But he does at least establish that the ‘something’ is a plagas-suppressant, as he knows Leon and Ashley are infected, and wants to help.

His final scene has him return with the suppressant, only to be stabbed in the back and killed by Saddler. As he lies dying, he admits he was really a researcher working for the Los Illuminados all along, only lately turned traitor – and we’ve officially hit our record-scratch moment.

So what was all that stuff about being a cop? Luis has good reason to lie about being a researcher, but ‘unemployed former cop’ is a heckuva cover story for a scientist, and what was that about Madrid PD having T-Virus samples? Luis-the-researcher might well have seen the virus somewhere, but why bring it up at all?

More than anything, these feel like leftover artifacts of a character who’s been substantially reworked somewhere in development, just without actually rewriting the start of the script to match. Luis’ story, like so much of this game, feels badly in need of a second draft.

Luis goes on to get something of an afterlife in collectable documents, and another scene in Ada’s DLC campaign. He’s still trying to get a plaga sample to her in this version, and he’s still responsible for the lab that cures Leon and Ashley of their infections. Ada's commentary on his character is interesting, and documents suggest he had a grandfather who used to hunt in the region, but he doesn’t get much more backstory.

Regardless, nearly 20 years later, Luis has finally got his second draft, and there’s a lot here that’s improved. (Have a new cutscene compilation link for reference.)

To begin with, any talk about being a cop is gone (an easy win). We find out he’s a researcher much earlier too – Leon is a lot less trusting of Luis this time, and calls in for a background check. He’s informed Luis used to work for Umbrella, and reacts as you’d expect. The cabin siege scene still goes off in similar fashion (though this time, Luis doesn’t feel it necessary to comment on Ashley’s tits the moment he meets her – another definite improvement).

This time though, Ashley starts coughing up blood immediately after they escape, and Luis’ offer to help remove the parasites happens right after the cabin siege, rather than being left for some awkward whoops-I-dropped-it moment later. The new scene actually finishes with the very same exchange (“Why are you helping us?”/ “It just makes me feel better”) – but this version, similarly, feels so much better. A+ revision work so far.

The remake also spells out Luis’ deal with Ada sooner too – her first proper scene in this version is her first contact with Luis. Again, Luis’ story ends in the castle with a stab in the back, and the stolen sample he was carrying being reclaimed by one of the villains (Krauser, this time, since Saddler apparently likes to delegate more in this version). But in between, things get a little odd.

Having already offered to help them, Luis contacts Leon by radio a couple of times during the castle chapters – firstly to say he’s waiting for Leon and Ashley in the courtyard. But Luis isn’t in the courtyard. His next message claims that he ran into trouble, and he’s had to retreat to the ballroom. But he’s not in the ballroom either. No further calls happen, nor does Leon react to his absence in either location.

Leon finally runs into him, apparently by chance, after being thrown down a hole and wandering for some time through tunnels deep under the castle. How did Luis end up down there too? No idea.

I’m glad he does though, because the following chapter you spend with Luis as your cabin-siege-style partner is a very good time. Though Leon is still distrustful and Luis still evasive, they exchange some great banter and generally make a good team. We encounter Luis’ love for Don Quixote, he admits he was working for Los Illuminados… and then Krauser stabs him, and Leon lights one last cigarette for him before he dies. It’s touching and very well done (not to mention dense with slashy subtext, if you want to take it that way).

Exploring Luis’ lab during the game’s final chapter adds some nice details too – equipment pilfered from Umbrella, an old photo with his colleagues, and naturally, text documents everywhere. But it’s his email logs with “A.W.” (Ada, obviously) that will most reward anyone paying attention – particularly the line you still remember the code phrase?

In this version, ‘got a smoke?’ is still almost the first thing Luis says to Leon. But you might notice it’s also the first thing he says to Ada. And this time, we’ve got a whole new explanation as to why.

Admittedly, the execution is still a bit lacking. Luis calls Ada by her first name just a few lines after using his ‘code phrase’, and seems to know her well enough not to need a code phrase, so what's going on here? If Luis knew Ada herself was going to meet him, why try his code phrase out on Leon? Alternately, if he suspected Ada might have sent someone like Leon instead of coming in person, how did he know it was her when they met? Maybe we could still have used another draft. But it’s a otherwise a fun little easter egg to recontextualise something from the original in a creative way.

Much more has been added to Luis’ backstory hidden in documents from the village. You can find photos of 'a boy with his grandfather', an old diary left behind by said grandfather – and if you’re paying really close attention, a label on another copy of that photo naming the pair ‘Navarro’ – Luis’ last name. You might also notice that the boy in the story has Luis’ fixation on Don Quixote (another character trait added by the remake).

But young Luis’ story ends in tragedy, the conclusion picked up elsewhere in the village elder’s records: the grandfather is bitten by a wolf, begins experiencing what seem to be known symptoms, and tells the village elder "you know what to do." The old man is killed, and his cabin and everything in it burned to the ground so the infection can’t spread.

Now, the idea the village has been quietly dealing with plaga-infected wolves for generations despite the fact that the plaga were supposedly sealed under the castle until recently has problems of its own, but that’s a bit beyond scope. The more relevant problem is the idea that Luis comes from the same village where all the action takes place – why? What does this add to the story? With Luis’ new Umbrella-Europe-backstory, making the village his birthplace seems like little more than meaningless coincidence, thrown in without anyone thinking it through.

But there is one intriguing possibility buried in the subtext of Luis’ story, and it’s an angle I’d love to see explored.

The village records end with the scene of a young Luis watching in silence as his childhood home burns to the ground, his only family still inside, then walking away, never to be seen again. Now, suppose that’s the very moment that inspired him to go into medical research, driven to understand infectious agents like the one that took his grandfather’s life, that the people he grew up with only knew to treat with medieval superstition. Suppose that’s what made him seek out shady employers like Umbrella, the only outfits with the interest and funding to delve into that area. The drive to find cures, to find proof that what happened to his grandfather didn’t have to be treated like a ritual witch-burning could’ve fuelled a lot of denial in Luis about where the funding was coming from. And after Umbrella’s collapse, you can only imagine how he might jump at the chance to work on the same parasites that had infected that wolf from so long ago.

If that was the intent, though (and damn do I want it to be), I honestly think it’s a little too buried in layers of subtext to carry. I can only hope maybe we’ll be seeing more of Luis in DLC to come – in Ada’s Separate Ways, if not his own – that might expand on those parts of his history a little more explicitly. Or at least cover what he was actually up to all that time he keeps messaging Leon from different parts of the castle (did he genuinely run into trouble? Was Ada pushing him to keep Leon moving for her own purposes? How did he wind up down in the mines?)

The notion of Luis as a village native still has its problems though. The house you find him in seems to be the same one he grew up in – it’s a cabin by the lake, his grandfather’s diary and photo is there, etc. Only those old village records spell out very clearly that that cabin burned to the ground as part of a major character moment. Which is it, game? You can’t have it both ways.

Even if we ignore that awkward ‘burned to the ground’ detail, are we to take it the ganados caught Luis in his old house and left him tied him up in his own cellar? Wouldn’t they move a prisoner like him? Speaking of which, was that one guy banging on the floor supposed to be hammering the hatch shut? Why? Was Luis being left down there to die? Don’t they still need to question him about that sample he stole? This stuff does not stand up to scrutiny.

And the idea of Luis as a native still doesn’t completely work for me, because shouldn’t there have been some clue in the way he talks about the place? Chief Mendez is a man Luis knew from his childhood – when Luis sees him coming in a cutscene, his reaction betrays no more familiarity than ‘not this guy’. In that cabin siege scene, surely there must be faces in that crowd he’s firing on that he recognises. And fuck, how do you come back to the place you grew up, find its residents reduced to zombie slaves, and think, “sure, I could work for these people…”?

I do realise expecting this level of humanity out of characters in a Resident Evil game might be a little much, but this stuff throws me. It builds the impression the Luis who grew up in the village is a character that exists only in text files, largely independent from the cutscene-Luis of the rest of the game. When you expect your audience to notice minor details like a surname on a photo in order to put together a main character’s backstory, you’re demanding they pay close attention. And once you’ve demanded that much investment, it’s worth keeping track of whether the cabin by the lake was supposed to be burned down or not, why Luis should be able to call Ada by name but treat Mendez like a stranger, and other such confusing detail. And Luis’ story is still positively logical and consistent compared to that of Chief Mendez himself, or anything much else in the game’s lore.

Luis is genuinely one of my favourite parts of the remake – he’s complicated, interesting, and fun. But trying to make sense of him could be a more rewarding experience. Many things are improved from the original, but for my money, they could still have stood to go for a third draft.

[poisonbat]

"The Giggle" thoughts

The post I promised, if you guys still wanna read it.

it's VERY long because I talk a lot, and gets into personal details and feelings, not all sunny ones.

I need to preface this with my status on discord currently.

Never 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 assume I'll agree with popular opinion. You'll only ever be wrong that way.

I am a strange individual with non-standard feelings, I kind of hate it because it makes me feel like a misfit in every community I come across. HOWEVER! My feelings I share are 100% my genuine ones and mine alone, and that's what's important.

Now.

I actually think this is a really good sequel to Legend of the Sea Devils, Remember the discussion yaz and the Doctor have on the beach?

The last 15 minutes of the giggle is really like a whole talk about that, between The Doctor and himself. The feeling that the doctor can never ever settle down and like process their trauma and like get back to a state of normalcy that they had before they started taking worse and worse hits to their lives. That they've never decided to stop and try to help themselves before they got so unstable and didn't know how to cope.

And in that context its also a good sequel to World Enough and Time/The Doctor Falls/Twice Upon A Time, where the Doctor is so tired of this pattern of their life that they *refuse* to regenerate and act like someone dead set on commitfing suicide while their friends around them try to convince them not to.

(this is only his SECOND time he's died since the tenth doctor's whole "new man saunter's off" speech. in that time he's horribly lost more close friends, new family, a new lover. His oldest friend was seemingly mending herself and wanting to improve herself so they could be best friends again, and he had that cruelly ripped away from him by her past self and a momentary relapse. He doesn't even know that she stood by him in the end, in defiance of her younger self and she died for it.)

The twelfth doctor, in his wanting to die ae himself is already just wanting a reprieve and stop to what his life is. In the moment, he considers staying wherever the TARDIS has taken him until his body finally fully shuts down without regenerating. He wants it to end.

Glass/Memories Bill and Nardole bring up to the Doctor that he shouldn't end his life here, especially because, The Doctor is a net positive for the universe as was discussed earlier in the episode and understood by Bill from a talk with The First Doctor. To which, The Doctor replies, asking for the first time if he's ever allowed to take a break from what his life has become.

Bill and Nardole tell him that it is okay to rest, to take a break from what his life is. They just don't want him to die permanently, because they love him, he's their best friend, you know? He made a hugely positive impact on their lives and the universe, and they're trying to be there for him too, trying to give him permission and encourage him to rest and deal with his pain just so long as he doesn't end his life here.

Immediately, like lots of suicidals (trust me. i know, ive been here many times.) he immediately retorts how they don't understand the pain he's gonethru for so many years. He may be right in the literal sense, but in the broader sense he's just. exhausted and scared. Like we all can become when we experience constant pain and loss. But then he goes to thank them for being his friends, without giving them a concrete hope that he won't still end his life after all of this.

Of course, she didn't. But she wasn't okay, either. But she succeeded in one of the things she set out to do. She got every one of her companions home safely, without dying or having their lives ruined. A small but important victory after the constant loss of her loved ones before them.

Of course, the show didnt just outright play these scenes like flashbacks to hammer it into the audience. but we know russel's been watching the show, he's seen his friends work. It feels like more pieces to complete a puzzle thats been added to and being completed for the past 18 years.

being fair and honest to the text, What I felt was that it was an honest discussion about all of this. about all the pain and suffering from this and having to process it finally instead of running away from it. he took donna repeating what bill and nardole told him because he's felt guilty about what he did to her for all this time. He never forgot about what happened to her for 3 bodies since it happened. Her telling him the same things broke down his walls further, until they were crumbling. And then, bigenerating, he had HIMSELF telling him he needs to rest for them to get better.

From the way the Fifteenth Doctor is written, it sounds like that he does have memories of a full fourteenth doctor life that the fourteenth doctor hasn't lived yet, that he's benefitted from fourteen's retirement and that some day fourteen died and his updates consciousness came into the bigeneration into his current fifteenth body.

"we're time lords. we're doing rehab out of order"

it may just be my analysis of what's been put in front of me, but that's how I interpret it, and as far as that goes…I enjoyed it.

Very personal feelings ahead.

Every night i go to bed I'm scared I'm going to die and not wake up. The time I'm awake, it's not worth being angry over the non concrete stuff that I really feel is more projected fear than the actual reality. That stems from the lack of approaching things in good faith.

Doctor Who has been an emotional rock for me for this past decade, I got into it during the worst relationship I ever had and when that ended it was all i still had left and clung to. I was in a very very bad place during Series 10, I wanted to kill myself and have my life end strongly and intensely for the first time in years because I was so exhausted from losing all my close friends and people I trusted from how badly that relationship went. but... World Enough and Time/The Doctor Falls/Twice Upon a Time helped me process and release my emotions, and stopped me from going thru with it. Every time after TUAT aired that I felt I wanted to kill myself and give up, I would go back to the twelfth doctor's regeneration speech, and go through it and convince myself to not give up there. I had a rocky time in 2018 because the steven moffat hate brigade was here and the actual show I felt really neutral on with series 11 upon first watch, and I lost the titan comics that I really loved and that changed my opinion on the tenth doctor and gave me one of the best eleventh doctor companions. so yeah, 2018-2019 because of those things were a little down as i wasn't as happy, but I was still here.

Then came 2020 and series 12: the entire season aired before the worst tragedy I've experienced in my life so far happened, and I also legitimately enjoyed every single episode a lot more than the previous series. But then that tragedy did happen. I lost my best friend, my best friend who trusted me so much that I was the second person after her fiancé that was told about her cancer diagnosis. I didn't feel I deserved that. She died within a month or two of her diagnosis. It was so fast, it blindsighted me. When she told me I asked her just to promise me she would call me for my birthday in case it fit bad because I wanted to hear her voice again, that year if I could. We assumed at least that she would at least that far along, because my birthday was only 3 months away. It seemed so simple and sure. She died a few weeks before my birthday that year. She didnt get to fufill her promise. It broke me. I wanted to die of course but...I knew I couldnt. I would be suicidal all the time and she always convinced me out of it. I hated myself so much and was so bad and intense about it and...she was kind to me. She refused to give up on me when I wanted her to give up on me to spare her pain when I was feeling bad.

so when she died i KNEW i had to live to make sure her faith in me wasn't in vain. I have gotten so much more mentally stable working on myself since then, but not a day goes by that I don't miss her. I never got to get her into Doctor Who but I would've wanted to.

Flux was my favorite season since the twelfth doctor years. I finally really emotionally connected with the thirteenth doctor era. I was really happy.

That year I met my current girlfriend whose been my best girlfriend I've ever had and whose given me everything I've ever wanted to be loved for. I got her into Doctor Who too.

But she lives in an abusive situation with her mom and her health keeps getting worse sometimes, getting more disabled with time while her fashy mother abuses her more. I feel useless sometimes during it because we live in two countries far away, even though we're planning our future together some days it feels like such a struggle to feel like we'll achieve our dreams together.

All of this has been going on while we've had to deal with the impending return of my least favorite doctor who writer, who barely is at 60% for episodes I enjoy, while his fans start to wake back up and start making it unbearable to be here because they spread misinformation and say horrible things about my favorite parts of the show, the ones that have helped me through my worst times. And recently they've started a vocal hate campaign against my first doctor, with more misinformation.

All of this along with fears for my life based on my physical health and fear based on real life politics has made it difficult to enjoy my rock, Doctor Who, for most of this year.

And yet somehow, the writer I didn't like at all has managed to give me 3 episodes I enjoy a lot more than anything he ever did 15 years ago when his sensibilities turned me off of getting into the show.

I haven't suddenly changed to liking RTD as a creator. I don't like series 1-4 more now. I don't suddenly like Damaged Goods. I just legitimately feel that these 3 episodes I enjoy a lot more than any of those previous stories, and as well, I don't feel like they perpetuated what the misaimed RTD1 era fandom wants, because I felt that it firmly felt that my favorite parts of the show happened and had a huge impact on all of this and how it went down. I'm more optimistic for the future of the show, even if the fandom will still be a hellhole to be in foe a while, i think eventually a lot of the loud awful people will leave because they're not likely to get what they want; and like the worst impulsives of fans are going to happen regardless of what actually happens in the text

other moffat era fans somehow took away from the episode that it ignored the moffat era, when it really didnt ignore it, to the point that steven himself got on his throwaway twitter account to disagree with it. The guy hates twitter and only remade his throwaway for the lockdown tweetalongs, so clearly it bothered him a lot to go out of his way to do this. I think if even your favorite writer says his work wasn't ignored by his friend, maybe you should try looking at it from a more neutral perspective.

I don't know, I just felt like the specials' themes and ideas were a good story that felt cathartic to get thru with my history, especially when this year I've developed an autoimmune disease that heavily restricts my diet and I've had to become a part time cane user. at 28!!!!

just with the very uncertain future, the fact I'm going to be older than my best friend ever got to be, there's just no energy that I have that I can spare to hate this when I think a lot of the feelings are either, premature or in the minds of people and less reality.

there are still people who are going to be racist and criticisms to be had but I don't think there's fundamentally this huge broken thing about the fourteenth doctor specials

anyway. this has been long, but this is all my feelings about the episode, i have a bit more talk but I'll save that for another post because this is long enough, plus its just lore stuff.

[unwounding]

This was originally a youtube comment but i'm copy-pasting it here. might edit later

I find the discourse point "just because it shows exploitation doesn't mean it endorses it" facile because it ignores the context in which the art is produced. To put it simply, a piece of art can simultaneously denounce exploitation while perpetuating it. I don't think that there's anything inherently wrong with portraying exploitation in art: exploitation is a part of humanity and is worthy of being explored as much as anything else. The primary consideration should be how that exploitation is depicted.

Take Irreversible by Gaspard Noe, which has an infamously graphic rape scene, so much so that there were audience walkouts. IMO this movie manages to show exploitation and denounce it without perpetuation because the brutality of the rape scene is a blunt depiction of violence against women that's absent in mainstream media and discourse. This is not to say that the depiction of rape and violence against women are non-existent, but rather they don't convey the full dehumanization of the experience because the depiction typically isn't so jarring and is thus consumed as ordinary. Whether they left during or after the film I'm certain most people were able to grasp that (a) Noe doesn't endorse violence and (b) that this form of violence against women is horrific and the viewer feels this horror viscerally.

Contrast this with Sucker Punch. Again, I'd say it's obvious Snyder thinks Exploitation Is Bad but I also question the reasoning behind having female characters in skimpy clothing. What purpose does that serve? And, this is critical, actresses donning skimpy clothing to arouse the male audience and serve as marketing ploys is not only not radical, it is banal. There is no way around that. We live in a world where that is so normal as to be expected, and when simply reproduced becomes another instance of female exploitation without any effect of denouncement. I'd argue that Snyder is disingenuous in saying that the marketing is a bait-and-switch technique because at the end of the day...you have images of women being made sex objects for the sake of consumption. Also note the difference between Snyder's portrayal of harley quinn vs. Yan's. Snyder's Harley Quinn is an exemplar of a character tailored to the male gaze where Yan's is decidedly less objectifying and striking bc it's just not that common. You don't have to take my word for this and should watch the films in sequence because the contrast is sharp. Tbh after learning that Snyder tweeted about this video leaves a funny taste in my mouth and while the viewpoint is expected I'm side-eyeing Mike a little bit.

To really hammer the point home take Nabokov's Lolita as another example. Given that the story is narrated by a protagonist (an abuser, obvs) who is trying to elicit sympathy from the reader it's easy to believe that Nabokov is endorsing his behavior. That being untrue aside, I want to bring attention to what he said about the book's cover: "No girls." illustrators failed the assignment. Check out Zimmer's Covering Lolita, which is an archive of Lolita book covers across several decades and countries where images of coy little girls abound. Kubrick's film poster was a turning point. Heart-shaped sunglasses, red lips, and a lollipop became an iconic depiction and is still so prevalent that the character is frequently seen in the "coquettish" aesthetic. Keep in mind that all this is happening in a cultural context where the sexualization of girls is rampant, and what's ultimately behind this Lolita-as-Seductress image is a 12-year-old girl being repeatedly raped by her stepfather. That truth is elided, however, because the image blends into a larger landscape where it is normal.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Bendy and the dark revival part 1

Thonks

No I'm not playing it but watching Mark play it because I am a sucker for horror and a bitch.

So here's my werid ass thonks thro it.

.

June 18 1973

We got a definitive date whoop

Audery looks amazing she seems like she'd be sweet I already like her.

.

"Only 800 frames more frames to go"

If that isn't the biggest mood.

Animators, artists ya'll deserve all the good in the world.

I hope your pillow is always cold and your favourite food/drinks in reach.

.

Archgate pictures

Oh so this isn't Joey Drew studios?

Nathan Arch

Guessing he's the guy in charge, wonder if this is before Joey than? Or if the company got bought out.

.

Red alarm

Are we... Not...??? Okay guess nothing to worry about.

They nailed the atmosphere here I swear.

.

A pretty girl like you shouldn't be wandering around all by yourself...

Get back fucker I got hands and I ain't afraid to throw em!

.

Red alarm blaring lift crashing

What did I say bout the alarm!

.

"Old Wilson will protect you"

... Can be bring the ink demon out?

Please.

I'll even give him a sacrifice.

Audery hun we are getting you a thermos so you don't have to do all this for coffee.

.

Arch gate pictures presents Joey Drew and the Ink Demon

Ohhh so I'm assuming the company was originally Archgate pictures and Joey worked for them before taking over the company?

Maybe?

.

Statue of Joey

... Man's got issues.

.

... Nevermind I found a plaque that explains things

Joey Drew

1901-1971

Joey Drew was the founder of the studio and the man who created Bendy. One of the most beloved cartoon characters of all times.

In 1929 with his partner Henry Stein, he created Bendy's first short "little devil darling" as an early talkie cartoon.

As his entertainment legacy grew over the years, Joey's optimism and pioneering spirit never wavered. Starting with just a pencil and a dream he created this studio.

Here at Archgate Pictures we strive to continue his dream and see Bendy live on.

Dreams come true.

So... Joey's dead.

And he created this studio, so this was initially Joey drew studios and than became Archgate Pictures after his death?

He died 2 years ago so it wasn't that long ago.

... I don't trust that he's actually dead.

Man spent too long going on about being immortal to just die.

And also obligatory "Oh they were partners 💅"

.

Silly vision sounds fun for something that ends up being so sinister.

.

Good to see we're bringing back the pedastels of imporant random stuff.

... Call me sweet Audery one more time Wilson...

All this and no coffee.

I don't even like coffee but for fucks sake.

.... And there's the ink machine...behind him.

Oh boy.

.

Soo book, inkwell, plushi, wrench, cog, I think it's the same as last time I might be wrong.

.

Ink is covering the floor and Wilson is talking about how "the ink is calling us"

This is still less creepy than the lift scene.

.

"Come find me and I'll show you your purpose"

That and the "you'll forget this whole thing" is getting creepy again... Like I'm so glad this is about ink and cartoons and shit.

This whole bit of Wilson grabbing Audrey and get backing into a corner... Yeah this is creepier without context.

.

And we're dead?

Title screen

👍🏼

.

WE'RE BAAAACKKKK

And... Audrey's inked?

But also human.

We got a Fusion on our hands? Or the ink processes was incomplete.

.

Poster reads RELAX Wilson knows your purpose, the man who killed the ink demon.

Nothing about that man makes me relax.

Also this guy is really trying to hammer home he knows things which... Good for him but nah I'm good.

And I highly highly doubt he killed Bendy, or that he even could.

Also poster Wilson is missing his eyes. Not like real Wilson who only has one but he has 2 empty eye sockets.

I'm sure that won't be plot relevant.

.

Even the wall says welcome home but something tells me this isn't just the game being meta.

.

To Grant Cohen, accounting:

Please inform Mr Drew that despite his instance that the rumours of Joey Drew studios going bankrupt are untrue, i want to remind him that if his studio does indeed fail.

All equipment and experiments produced through our partnership, by contract, these belong to the Gent Corporation. We will reclaim these assets forcibly of necessary.

- Alan Gray, CEO (property of the Gent Corporation)

Okay so we've got Archgate Pictures, Joey Drew studio and now the Gent Corporation.

Who were working with Joey to produce the whole living ink situation.... Jeez.

So is Archgate under the Gent Corporation now Joey is gone?... And are they the reason joey is gone 🤔.

Because I'm pretty sure the studio does go bankrupt if I'm not wrong and Joey wouldn't have let his beloved creations go without a fight.

Large corporation V Joey Disney

Fight of the century I tell ya.

And all this right infront of my bacon soup smh.

.

Looks at Ted Wester memo where the "bank takes the goodies back"

Oh yeah they definitely got bankrupt. I'm sure somewhere ol Bertram Piedmont is laughing in his grave.

.

Wilson really doesn't know what no means does he?

So he's apparently "killed" bendy uh huh and it's been 211 days since Bendy was seen.

He calls himself a friend a protector.

Shudders.

And calls the rest of the ink creatures, children of the machine.

Despite them all being adults.

And he's put a manhunt on us.

Great.

.

The ink drips

Darkness has spread through his studio.. The reaching shadows creep around you. Something hungers for your corrupted flesh.

It is close. So very close.

It strains to grab you, choke you from behind. You will feel its breathe upon your neck.

It is close

Oh wow they found one of my poems from when I was 14.

.

Mutilated butcher gang member hangs out of a vent.

... Totally didn't jump.

Man he's been thro something, his eye has an X on it on rope. Something is in his mouth and he's bound by his wrists.

... What happened? Did he disobey the self proclaimed lord and saviour Wilson?

Because I believe the Butcher gang were on Bendy's side so they might be treated as the enemy.

Would explain that.

.

Annd yeah Audrey's like half ink half human with glowing eyes.

Cool.

But bizarre because no one else looks like that.

Why is she different?

.

So Nathan Arch was called about Joey's death. He hadn't heard from him since last April and sounded happy the last time they spoke.

... Oh yeah this is sus.

.

Ayy the toy bit, Heavenly toys.

Looks... Different. Got posters hanging of Bendy, Boris and the Butcher gang.

.

... So that's why there's so many hideu holes butcher gang jumped out.

I love how they just waddle away like fuck can't do ought.

Ha ha

flops scared me

.

ALICE!

Alice Angel aka Alison Pendal is here yess.

She's so sweet and poor Audery.

Alison confirming the machine can really spit u out as any of the cartoons.

I have a wolf he doesn't care for strangers

... 👀Sci Boris?!

Aka... I think Thomas Conner?

Stay away from the ink demon

He likes to smile and kills anything that moves.

So bendy is alive knew it

Also Alii you are not good at comforting.

.

We keep getting notes from our best pal and I am hoping it's Boris.

Not Sci Boris who hates our guts but sweet kind lovely Boris.

I miss Boris 🥺

.

A new terror has descended I go our lives.

This man named Wilson

Ever since our world feels strained, like a great beast held in chains.

The Ink Demon hasn't been seen in a long time. Many of us refuse to believe he's really gone.

But what does it matter? Down here were all sinners. Children of the machine all have the demon in our inky blood.

Ooo so these aren't written by Wilson.

I'm guessing Sammy than, especially with all the talk of sinners and such.

We all have demon in our inky blood... Wonder if that's the whole ink creatures are connected to each other.

The whole in the ink there's multiple souls what other Alice called "a buzzing screaming well of voices" in the og game.

Or Sammy's just crazy.

Probably that.

Wiggles to the jukebox

.

So Wilson was there when the ink machine was put up? And he wanted it's secrets.

Werido.

.

Wandering into the caution lock door room

This seems like a good idea.

Wonder what monster lurks behind these sealed walls.

... Ah the break room

Truly terrifying.

....wtf

Oh yeah just soups and drinks and a butcher gang member stabbed into a wall!

Bucket on his head, ink splattered on the wall he's stabbed into.. I think with the wrench?

And ink follower written beside him.

So looks like I was right, they do follow Bendy and someone, Wilson most likely is making an example of them.

Of anyone who follows the ink demon.

.

So Nathan decided to go into animation after Joey he died.

To resurrect the past.

Slow clap

.

Searcher enters room "if I find you on going to rip your face off!"

... Am I stupid because I didn't know searchers could talk.

I have never heard one talk as far as I can remember.

But no apparently they can talk.

.

Casually takes pipe out of beaten up butcher gang member

Pfft he don't need this.

[angeli-marco-writes]

∘◦ ♪ ◦∘ Timothée Chalamet - Concerto ∘◦ ♪ ◦∘

A/N - I wrote and posted this almost a year ago on my Wattpad. My writing has evolved a lot since then, but I’m still proud of this piece, and hope you enjoy it. I do not know Tim, nor do I claim to in any way. This is a work of fiction and entirely my own. 

Warnings - smut. Detailed (but protected and consensual) sex, slight BDSM, overstimulation. Cursing. Legal alcohol consumption and smoking. Also 10k words of sickening fluff though, even the smut is fluffy.

Summary - At a classical music concert, the last person you expect to meet is a young man as charming and suave as Timothée. And the last thing you expected is for him to invite you back to his flat. Turns out music really is food for the soul, and other things...

IT’S A FRIDAY EVENING IN NEW YORK CITY. The sun is setting behind the towering silhouettes of undulating buildings all across the city, the moon casting shadows all around au contraire to the luminescence of building lights, beaming all around as well as the street lamps, bringing colour and light to people’s faces in the dark.

You’re standing on the pavement outside Symphony Space Concert Hall on the Upper West Side, people watching. Nothing more or less conspicuous, just observing everyone flooding into the hall, though none of them seem to be under 50 years of age. After checking the time, you take your phone out of the pocket attached to your delicate silk jumpsuit you’re wearing for the night, the one reserved for classy parties and sophisticated concerts only (though very handy). You open the email holding your ticket for the evening, a Poulenc appreciation concert, and you show it to the bouncer who grants you entry to the auditorium.

The room looks incredible. Photos of Francis Poulenc, as well as some old parchment sheets of his music spread out delicately over the usually bare walls. The lights create a perfect ambience in the hall for what's sure to be an incredible evening. The red velvet seats are half full, dotted with people at least twice your age, except from one seat near the front where you can see merely a defined jaw and brown curls. On the stage stands two glossy black grand pianos, slotted beside one another with plush velvet stools and their lids propped up, allowing one to see the inner workings of such wonderful instruments. Behind the pianos are seats enough for an entire orchestra, creating a crescent moon shape. A couple of the seats already have instruments atop them, aching for their owners to play beautiful melodies with them. You make your way down to where your seat is, familiar with the layout of the auditorium. You’re on the right hand side of the centre stalls, third row back, but as you arrive, there’s a boy you saw earlier, not much older than yourself.

“Hi, do you mind if I squeeze past?” You ask him, watching his head jolt up from the programme to reveal a mop of beautiful dark brown curls framing his chiselled face, piercing green eyes with flecks of hazel when the light changed direction. You recognise him, an actor, you simply can’t place him.

His look of incredulity melts into a smile. “Sure.” He says, moving his legs so that you can squeeze past and take your reserved seat on his left. He turns to face you, smiling. He’s wearing a crisp navy suit with a pale blue shirt and a matching tie. He looks well presented, and by his nervous and lopsided smile, you guess that he’s rather nervous to be at the concert alone too. “Timothée.” He tells you, holding his hand out.

You return his gesture, smiling right back at him, and tell him your name. “You here alone?” You ask him, turning in your seat to get a better view. He nods.

“Thought I’d be the only under fifty here.” He laughs, “I’m 24 by the way, but I shan’t ask your name since you're a lady.” You can't help but laugh at this, just a little giggle at how sweet he is, but your interaction is cut short as the lights turn down in the auditorium but shine brighter on the stage, and a full orchestra enters the stage, accompanied by their instruments, two pianists and a conductor. Murmurs in the hall settle down to a faint hum while the musicians tune to the sound of the oboe, and then begin to play.

The music is mesmerising, starting with orchestral pieces with faint piano accompaniment, then just a nocturne for piano, split between the two lead pianists. You could listen to it all night, but an interval has to come. As the lights slowly turn back up, you see an infantile smile on Timothée’s face, as though he’s just watched the most excellent thing in the world.

“Come on,” you say to him, smiling sadly while you tap his knee, “let’s get a drink.”

He reluctantly stands up to follow you out of the auditorium and to the small bar area. You order two margarita’s without consulting him, but he seems grateful as you sit beside each other on a high table, people watching once again.

“What's your job then?” He asks you, making small talk.

“I’m a piano major at Juilliard, teaching piano on the side though.” You respond, and he seems really taken aback. His jaw falls a little slack while his eyes bulge a tad.

“Wow, you must be excellent!” You blush a little at his words, elegantly taking a sip from your drink while he eyes you carefully. You feel awkward under his gaze, though flattered nonetheless. He’s gorgeous, and he’s complimenting you and accepting drinks from you, what a night.

“What about you?” You inquire. He's an actor, you know that, but asking means that you may be able to get some more context and maybe it’ll click where you’ve seen him before. He clears his throat, and you can see some older people walking by who pull faces, judging the pair of you, but you brush them off.

“I’m an actor, mainly small films though.” He says, remaining vague. You don’t push much more, realising that he probably likes not being fawned all over for once, so you simply ask of the favourite names he’s had the honour of working alongside, which must be an uncommonly asked question because a light flickers behind his eyes.

“Selena Gomez, Steve Carell, Armie Hammer, Saoirse Ronan, Emma Watson, Robert Pattinson, Maia Mitchell…” He begins to list, but only when he mentions Maia does it click. You aren't huge into films, but you have seen him in a film with Maia Mitchell and Maika Monroe a few years ago.

“Hot summer nights, right? You were in that?” His cheeks turn a magnificent crimson and he bows his head as though embarrassed. He mumbles something along the lines of ‘not my best performance’, but you disagree. “I think you were wonderful, and did you mention Armie Hammer?” He nods again, seeming a little brighter. You take another sip from your drink, and he follows suit, watching your poised movements.

“Call Me By Your Name.” You nod in recognition, you remember watching the film when it first came out and loving the music from it.

“You’re excellent you know, at piano I mean, and the intimate scenes aren’t half bad either, you make them better.” You say with a teasing smirk on your painted lips, making Timothée’s eyes widen again. You chuckle and grasp his hand, dragging him into the auditorium for the second half.

The second half is a whole concerto, Poulenc’s Concerto For Two Pianos And Orchestra. Ten minutes in, Timothée’s hand finds your thigh and seems very comfortable, so comfortable in fact that you don't dare move it. As the concerto flows further on, his hand slides further up your clothed leg and squeezes your upper thigh a little You tense under his touch, infatuation and lust filling every cell and exiting through your pores, just waiting for more passion to fill your body and make you drunk on the feeling.

When finally the concert ends, both of you stand to applaud the musicians for a solid few minutes, and you could swear you see a tear leaving Timothée’s mysterious eyes and rolling down his heavenly made, painfully defined cheekbones. While you clap, you surreptitiously edge closer together, millimetre by millimetre until you’re hip to hip with elbows nudging. Your head comes up to his chin, making you feel a little small, but you’ll feel even smaller once your heels come off. Once the majority of the audience have filed out, you grasp his hand and pull him through the crowds where you stand on the corner of the pavement, only metres from the venue. You’re reluctant to loosen your grip on his slim hand, as he is with yours.

“Cigarette?” He offers, holding a half full box out to you. You half smile and shake your head in refusal.

“I don’t mind if you do though.” You say, meeting his gaze. “I love the taste of smoke when I kiss someone.” You add in a whisper, leaning up on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. He goes rigid, making you smirk to yourself. This is going to be a good night.

He lights his cigarette and takes slow drag, only looking away to blow the smoke in an opposite direction to you. How respectful, you think, as your stomach fills with butterflies and bubbles with anticipation. He puts it out on top of a bin and throws it away without littering, and just that small and helpful gesture makes you crave his touch, having his fingers trace your sweaty skin and making your body tingle, your back arch with desire and pleasure.

“Wanna get a drink?” You ask, pointing to a nice bar across the road. You’re desperate to sleep with him, but not without pleasantries first. He, however, shakes his head and intricately entwines his fingers with yours.

“I’ll do you one better than a drink.” His smirk sets off a different kind of longing in you, forcing your body to follow him wherever he takes you.

As you walk, he starts conversation, but you’re so breathless from the desperation speed walking that your answers are brief. He asks you why you attended the concert, only to remember that you’re a music student and piano teacher; so in turn, you ask him the same question.

“When I was doing Call Me By Your Name, I had to learn the piano, and while I was learning classical pieces, I kind of just fell in love with classical piano music, I don’t know.”

His nervousness is sweet, making him appear far more humble than anyone of his stature would usually be.

You get to his building after a twenty minute dash in heels, and he pulls you flush against him while entering through the revolving doors, allowing you to lay your weight on him for a moment while you gather your breath. You feel his heartbeat thudding and racing against his ribs, reverberating against your own chest. You turn around to face him and place your hand on his chest.

“Breathe.” You say to him, allowing him to release a long held breathy chuckle. You leave the doors, both laughing, and fervently press the buttons to wait upon a lift. “So,” You then continue, breaking the silence where only your breaths were heard. “Favourite piano piece from the Call Me By Your Name soundtrack?”

“Hallelujah Junction!” You both answer at the same time, just as the lift doors open. You fall into the lift in a fit of giggles, clinging onto each other. You find yourself with your back pressed against the cold metal handle bar in the elevator with Timothée’s face inches away from your own. Your breath mingles together. As soon as he presses the button to his floor, he nudges his nose with your own.

“God, you're so beautiful.” he says seconds before his mouth is pressed hotly against your own, kissing you with an unrivalled passion. Your lips mould and move together like it’s second nature. His one hand holds your waist while both of yours grip his face, feeling a slight stubble.

The lift dings and he drags you out, unlocking his apartment door and leading you inside.

“Welcome to Casa del Timmy.” he says while hugging you from behind, allowing you to get a full view.

His apartment is stunning. Sleek, yet also vintage. Your eyes follow across the perimeter through a door to the left, where he has an office area containing a sleek white desk with a mac and a stack of papers and pens, next to it is a vintage white bookcase stacked as high as possible with novels of all shapes and sizes, and even an indie style rug underneath a colourful modern dining set..

The door next to the office is a kitchen, white countertops with wooden cupboards and a beautiful view of the city out of the window. To the right is a set of glass doors that open onto a small balcony where you can see the whole city, even Manhattan and Brooklyn depending which way you look and how the moon beams down. There’s a closed door right in front of you and through the entry hall and living room which you assume is his bedroom held behind a golden doorknob.

His living room, where you remain standing, holds an array of house plants with a couple of very comfortable looking plush sofas, his TV stand as well as his coffee table look like polished vintage items, refurbished from a flea market maybe, while his book shelf and rug are grand and modern. The best part of all though is a grand piano in an oak wood, matching the wood from his television table, and you become instantly entranced by the instrument that you don’t even notice the velvet stool or the perfectly organised cabinet of music, with a guitar propped up against it.

“Wow.” You breathe. Timothée grips you tighter, trailing kisses across your shoulder and up the side of your neck, inhaling every few seconds to treasure the scent of your perfume. Gardenia, rose champagne, grapefruit, davana; heavenly. You grip his hands with your own, holding them tightly where they’re settled on your tummy. You roll your head against his shoulder to give him better access to kiss you, but he stops abruptly and leads you to the piano stool. He opens the cabinet and pulls out a well loved piece of music.

“I know it’s for two pianos, but let's have some fun.” He says, grinning at you, an infectious smile that you can’t help but return. Hallelujah Junction, first movement. He puts the music out on the piano and takes a seat beside you, your thighs touching and hands overlapping as they begin to glide over the keys.

Playing this piece is second nature to you, allowing you to find your way easily, slipping your fingers between Timothée’s, and the white and black keys. You begin a harmonious melody spanning the whole of the piano, but after only a couple of pages, you realise that its not working as your notes cross over, making it very difficult to play on just one piano. You laugh together, but only for a moment before he is trailing his tongue up your neck, then your lips, and delving inside your mouth. You gasp, moaning into the passionate kiss that he’s giving you, and within seconds you find yourself straddling his lap on the piano stool. You trap his thighs between yours, moving and grinding your hips a little against his to receive more friction where you can feel how needy he is.

Within seconds, he has your legs wrapped around his waist and his teeth on your clavicle. The pleasure makes sounds escape your lips that you didn’t even realise were possible. You knot your ankles as he stands up with one hand around your waist and the other feeling his way around his apartment. After a few funny missteps and close calls of him dropping you while only walking the expanse of his living room, he pins you against his bedroom door, finding your lips again

He gently pokes at your dusty pink bottom lip with his tongue, slipping his tongue back into your mouth, exploring avidly and devouring every taste of you that he can muster. You do the same, but become too infatuated by his taste to put much more passion into it: gin, mint, bergamot and smoke. Smoke, sugar and sin, the most deadly combination of them all, and that's all you can smell on him, making you moan even louder. An erotic moan that makes Timothée twist open the handle to his bedroom door as quickly as is humanly possible.

He as good as throws you onto the bed, but undeniably, it turns you on a lot to see his dominant side this early on into the evening. He doesn't seem like the type to pin you down and boss you around, but as he shuts his bedroom door and delicately takes off his probably very expensive shoes, you can see a glint in his eye, almost as if he’s planning on doing unspeakably pleasurable things to you. Just the thought makes you wetter than before.

As he locks the door and shuts his shoes away, you take a quick look around the room. His bed is nice, comfortable and exquisitely large, like other things you hope. He has a nice colourful throw, vintage looking pillows to match his nightstand, holding only a pillbox, a glass of water, hand sanitiser, and a box of tissues. The simplicity makes you want to laugh, but you restrain yourself. He has a big dresser to match his bedside table with the drawers a little skewwhiff and clothes poking out. His wardrobe is fitted to the wall and by the looks of it, surprisingly neat too. That much cannot be said for his sofa though. A plush, light grey sofa sits on one side of his room just away from the window, and it's covered with clothes. At least he made the bed though, that's more than you can say for most 20-odd year old mans rooms that you’ve been into.

He sheds his blazer and crawls up to where he left you on the bed, needy and craving more. He looks down at you with desperation in his eyes, and you can’t help but to attack his lips, threading one hand in his beautiful dark curls while the other nimbly pulls open his tie and undoes his shirt. You shrug it off his shoulders and run your nails up and down his spine. You feel him shiver beneath his touch while your hands travel all over his body. His shoulders, his biceps, his toned stomach; he’s skinny, but has enough substance to him to be strong and sexy as hell.

“You’ll kill me if you stop.” He whispers, followed by a string of breathy curses. His eyes roll into the back of his head, giving you ample opportunity to grasp his shoulders and slip the pair of you over, pinning him beneath you. His eyes flit all over your face before kissing you again.

“You are so freaking beautiful.” He mumbles between kisses. He slips his hands up to find the zip of your jumpsuit which he slides down crazily fast, only breaking the kiss to shrug it off your shoulders. He just lies in awe, noticing that you don’t have a bra on beneath it. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he examines every undulation of your body, following the swell of your breasts right down to your hips. Your nerves return under his scrutiny, making you want to hide your face, but instead he holds your wrists behind you.

“You never have to cover up,” he says, nothing more or less than genuine love in his eyes, “not for me.”

Despite only meeting him hours ago, you know that you can trust him, so you ungracefully clamber off his lap and lie on your back to shimmy off your burden of a jumpsuit. He practically leaps at the opportunity to worship your body, before him in only your panties. He starts at your ankle, placing feather light kisses all the way from your ankle, up your leg, not minding the slight harshness of your legs, and only stops at your knee joint to switch his lips to his tongue, licking a straight line all the way up your inner thigh, stopping centimetres from where you need him the most. Not through any of this ritual does he break eye contact though. He skips over your panties and only pulls them down a little to trail kisses from your pelvic bone, up past your navel, through the valley of your breasts, and finally back to your lips. He makes you feel things that you could only dream of before meeting him.

“Timothée…” you breathe, hearing his breath hitch in his throat at the way your tongue curls around his name.

You reach between the two of you to his trousers. You undo the belt buckle with ease and push his trousers off his hips and down his thin legs, allowing him to kick them off at the bottom. He seems embarrassed, wearing Y-fronts that make more visible just how much he wants you.

“How about we strip together?” You offer, and Timothée reluctantly nods. He pushes himself off of you and stands up, giving you a hand to stand up as well. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off you since the moment you left the concert hall. “3, 2, 1…”

You both remove your underwear, pushing them down your legs and stepping out of them, only to step closer together so that your chests are flush against one another. He moves his hand up to cup your face, brushing your hair away from your face while tilting your chin up, capturing your lips in a lustful yet also sensual kiss.

He nudges you and your legs hit the bed, making you topple over and break the kiss from a giggle, but he doesn’t seem to mind and only laughs with you, moving your body further onto the mattress. He doesn't go to you again, he just lies beside you and dances his fingers absently down your pubic bone, ghosting circles around your clit.

“Jesus Christ.” You exclaim at the sudden feeling. Timothée kisses your jawline, but adds in between kisses, “Less of that, darling, I’m Jewish.”

You can’t help but laugh at him. You know he’s joking, just trying to mess with you, but as a punishment for laughing, he thrusts two fingers inside you with no warning, making you cry out in a mixture of both pain and overwhelming pleasure.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, never going deeper than the second knuckle even when you cry out for more. Only when your moans turn to gasps for breath and you’re writhing beneath him does he delve in further and add his thumb to your clit, giving you a more intense orgasm than you’ve ever had before.

You immediately feel blood rushing back to your cheeks, colouring them from embarrassment, but Timothée doesn’t mind. He removes his hand from your core, and makes sure your eyes are fixated on his every movement as he licks his hand clean of all your cum. You’re so turned on that you even reach for his own hand, interlacing all your fingers except for his index one, of which he takes the hint and slips it into your open mouth, allowing your tongue to curl around it, making him groan.

He slips further down the bed and locks his eyes onto yours, you can see different shades of green and hazel in them and a whole world locked behind those beautiful eyes. Slowly, he delves into your heat, licking up everything that his hands missed. His mouth works wonders, sending your mind into a state of mild euphoria. The tip of his nose nudges your clit and you can feel yourself involuntarily gasp, so when Timothée finishes savouring every taste of you that he can get, he harshly bites your sensitive clit for just a moment, stimulating parts of your mind and body that you didn’t know could feel pleasure, let alone pleasure that intense.

He comes back up and kisses your lips, planting his hands in your hair as you kiss him back and get lost in the moment, your tongues dance together in an exploration, an experimentation of passion.

You pull away after a minute or so, gasping for air. Timothée examines your face for a moment, and you find yourself once again losing your thoughts and sanity in his eyes, until you feel the tip of his throbbing cock brush against your bare thigh. You feel bad for how much he’s been neglecting his own levels of desire in order to pleasure you, so you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock. He takes a sharp intake of breath and flutters his eyes closed, his long dark eyelashes twitching alongside his eyelids whenever you grasp harder or pump him.

He’s surprisingly big, causing you to take longer while rubbing your hand up and down his member. Half way down one thrust, you squeeze his cock a little, hearing him whimper a little. The mere sound of him drowns your core in want. You edge your way down the bed and swallow as much of his dick as you can take until his tip hits the back of your throat. He lets out the most sensual guttural groan that you’ve ever heard, his eyes still closed while placing his hand on the back of your head to keep you steady. You bring your head back up to look at him while your tongue swirls his tip, his mouth is parted a little with breathy moans of your name escaping every once in a while, his eyelids switching from being lazily half open to squeezed so tightly shut that they wrinkle a little.

You go back down slowly, inch by inch, hollowing your cheeks. You work your hand in the part of him that won’t fit in your mouth and continue to bob your head up and down. You lick a strip up a vein on the underside of his dick, making him near enough scream your name. With one final bob of your head where you deep throat him, you pull away with plump lips, climbing up his body to straddle his waist. He looks up at you with wide and loving eyes, pulling you down for a sensual kiss.

“Are you clean?” He asks breathlessly, kissing down the hickeys that he’s already littered your skin with.

“Yeah, i got tested after my last break up a few months ago, and I haven’t been with anyone since. Is that because I just…” He nods and you laugh a little, the vibrations from his chuckle rumble throughout your body.

“I did the same, but I’ll still…” You get what he’s saying and climb off him. He flings open the top drawer of his bedside table and after a minute or so of rooting through it he pulls out a condom packet and places it next to his glass of water. You give him a questioning look with your brows knitted together, but Timothée just smiles at you. He slips one slim arm beneath your back and the other under your knee joint before scooping you up and holding you close to his chest.

“Well hey there Timothée.” You say with a chuckle, secretly astonished at how strong he is, because with one arm still holding you, he throws away the decorative pillows and pulls the duvet back, throwing you onto the mattress and leaping on top of you. You smile into his kiss, savouring every second of the feel of his lips pressed hotly against your own, the taste of smoke driving you crazy.

He pulls away and sits up, tearing open the condom packet and grasping his hand sanitiser. He flicks the lid open and squeezes it liberally onto his hands before applying it and rubbing it into yours. “Are you sure?” He asks you, and your urgent kiss to his jawline is followed by a string of fervent reassurances that you are desperate to have him inside you, though you respect that he wants consent and that he wants to be clean. He slips the condom on, his eyes trained on your lips and the way they part from wanting every few seconds. He’s enjoying torturing you and making you wait, the same way that you edged him but denied him orgasm.

He slips the condom on and slowly enters in one smooth stroke. You gasp at the contact, especially how deep he goes with the first thrust, so deep that his pubic bone hits your own. He reaches for the duvet and he pulls it up over his shoulders, covering the pair of you since he can see that you’re shivering a little in the open. He looks for reassurance, but then begins to thrust inside you, holding his weight above you. You can see his biceps tensing while trying to hold his weight up and keep a steady rhythm.

“How about we spice this up?” He suggests, a sly smirk playing on his lips. He cocks an eyebrow, and the sun hits his face at an angelic angle, only making him more beautiful. You nod eagerly to him, only making his smirk grow wider.

“Yes Mr Timothée,” you say, triggering a dominant smirk to relight behind those stunning eyes.

“That's Mr Chalamet to you tonight, Miss.” Words cannot even explain how wet he makes you by saying that, already making your mind want to submit to his every want. You let out a whimper and remove your hands from his hips to lay above your head on the pillows. He joins his fingers around your wrist and proceeds to lay his slender hand flat against your wrists, preventing you from moving.

“Is this okay?” He asks, his movements coming to a halt. You nod and kiss him again. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

He must really enjoy what he’s doing to you. “Yes Mr Chalamet.” You reply, making your eyes as doe like and innocent as possible.

Timothée’s thrusts restart, faster this time. You moan louder, ecstasy filling every inch of your spent body before you’ve even properly begun. His moans are lower, more like groans, all of your name. It sounds heavenly coming from his lips, the way his mouth moves when he says your name just makes it better. His hips hit yours with vigour, adjusting to get a better position where he hits the best spot inside of you.

“There Timothée!” You scream desperately, your back arching on the mattress while your hands fight to break free. Submitting isn’t as easy as you hoped.

“I’m close.” He warns you and frees your wrists, but he doesn’t let your hand go too far. He interlocks his fingers with yours, using one elbow to prop himself up. His thrusts turn sloppy, more fervent, and just as he’s finishing, he digs his thumb into your clit.

Your entire body turns limp, screaming his name in a state of complete euphoria like you’ve never felt before. It travels from your brain to the tips of your fingers, setting a fire in your belly and making your toes curl. Your back arches so far off the bed that your chest becomes pressed against Timothée’s, your breasts moving in time with his breathing. You feel him come to his own climax, silencing his screams by kissing you with more passion than he has before.

You ride out your highs, but the level of pleasure illuminating every nerve ending in your body means that you don’t notice Timothée pulling out and disposing of the condom, you only notice when he flops down beside you on the bed and pulls you closer to his slightly sweaty body. You rest your head on his chest that seems to be glowing in the moonlight from the sheen of sweat. He absently plaits your hair, staring off into the distance. The faint thudding of his heart within his ribs comforts you, it's a little faster than would be normal, making you smile a little.

“How was that?” His hand grips around your shoulder even tighter, pulling you closer to his body. He seems content in simply holding you, maybe he just enjoys cuddling. “Wait, don’t answer that.” He corrects himself, his pupils dilating and his excellent, angelic body going rigid. You chuckle to yourself, drawing circles on his chest with the pad of your forefinger,

“Excellent, Mr Chalamet.” You tease him.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He looks fearful, fretting, it's evident in the sudden sulk of his face, pulling his cheeks and forehead down. You shake your head again, slowly but surely moving your leg to lie over his. Ye inclines his neck to place a gentle kiss to our hairline, and you can feel him smile into it.

“Timothée?”

“Yes beautiful?” Just his simple words make you giggle and blush, such a sweet sentiment from a gorgeous and well meaning man.

“I’m hungry.” You say, feeling slightly embarrassed. He laughs, you feel his body move from it, and he proceeds to pepper your face with the softest and sweetest kisses possible.

“I’ll make us some food, grab any shirt you want and meet me in the kitchen.”

You watch him pull on a pair of grey sweat pants and walk out. His pale hips sway just a little as he walks, and he looks so lanky from where you’re laying on his bed, the covers pulled up around your chest. He kissed your forehead before heading to the kitchen, what kind of a man does that on the first night? He’s a famous actor and the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, let alone a couple of years above yourself. He really knows how to please a girl, your skin rises in tiny goosebumps of pleasure while a shiver shoots down your spine and leaps across your synapses just at the mere thought of what he did to you, by far the best climax you’ve ever had.

You slowly slide out from under his warm, plush covers that smell just like him, only leaving with severe reluctance that melts away as soon as you shrug on the pale blue button down that he wore for the concert. Only a few hours ago you’d met at a concert for old people, already having a common interest that few your age have, yet he’s so eager about classical piano which is so special to you. You fiddle with the buttons, leaving the top few open in hopes of another round - he is making you an almost-midnight feast after all.

You walk out of his room and pad barefoot across his living room floor, only to have a little grey cat come and rub at your feet. You lean down to tickle behind its ears, hearing it meow, and you continue your way too where Timothée has left the kitchen door open for you. He’s standing over the stove with some ingredients laid out on the spotlessly clean countertops. You smile in spite of yourself, running a hand through your messy hair before wrapping your arms around his torso from behind. You place a couple of kisses to his shoulder blades until he turns around and picks you up in one swift movement, sitting you on the counter so that you meet his height.

“It looks better on you.” He whispers, pulling you closer by your bare thighs to plant a kiss on your lips. He’s making you feel things you’ve never experienced before, you can’t wipe the smile off your face for the first time in a while, and he's making you food in the middle of the night after cuddling you.

Dreamboat.

After watching him cook for a while, you slip out of his kitchen and take a seat at his piano. You run your fingers over the smooth wood, it’s well loved but well kept. Then you take a seat on the stool. You can feel where Timothée sits to play, your smile turning a little sad. There’s so much to him that people won’t see because he’s getting famous, but he’s still a person and that’s something that you’re able to experience first-hand.

Eyes closed, you feel for F and Ab with both of your hands. You press the keys down gently, creating the soft blend of notes that is Clair De Lune. You fall lost in the music in a new way, a new feeling washing you with all of tonight's new sensations and sitting at a piano that is neither your own nor at school, it feels somewhat ethereal.

Your fingers glide all across the keys, black to white, flats to sharps, switching between octaves like its second nature. Your mind dances along with the rhythm, your whole mind, soul and being becoming lost in the symphony that you’re creating, one that you haven’t been able to create for a while, and it’s only thanks to Timothée.

You become so absorbed in playing that you don’t notice him leaving the kitchen to listen. He just stands in the doorway, leaning against it with his head lolled a little to the side, completely mesmerised by your movements, your music, and just everything you are. Only when you play the final notes are you alerted of his presence from the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet. He walks over to you with purpose, a slight grimace on his perfect lips, but he just hugs you. Timothée just holds you close to his chest, allowing you to entwine your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face in his bare chest.

“Stay the night?” He asks, such a simple request but he truly does seem anxious. You want to be genuine, kind, but it’ll be best to relieve the tension.

“You’re making me a late night post-sex feast and giving me your shirt, of course I’m staying the night.” After a moment of silence, he exhales a laugh and node, brushing a curl or two into his face. “Anyway, your cat likes me too, so it’d be a shame to disappoint the little cutie.”

After only a few minutes, you find yourself back in bed with Timothée. He’s carrying a tray full of food that looks and smells gorgeous, followed by his cat who decides to dance between his legs. He serves you a strangely shaped piece of an odd looking pizza, though it still looks excellent, and it has some perfectly cooked and seasoned vegetables next to it on a white plate.

“What is this?” You ask him as kindly as possible.

“Flammekueche with some vegetables. It’s a French pizza with crème fraiche and bacon. My dad makes it all the time and always gives me some that I just freeze and reheat. I can only make microwave meals and vegetables, so this isn’t bad for me.” The way he explains it makes him so endearing, and even makes the food seem more than enticing. “You’re not allergic to anything are you? Or vegetarian?” You shake your head with a smile, kissing him and thanking him for the meal even though he won’t let you touch it before you sanitise your hands.

You talk the whole while that you eat, learning little things about his favourite books and his family. His favourite book just happens to be Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald, a book you both know and love, and Timothee has a Jewish mother, a French father, an older sister, and he grew up in the city. You however are from out of the city with an exceptionally normal family, and your favourite book is Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. He seems to be growing fond of you, wiping the pizza sauce from your lip, followed by a kiss each time.

He places your plates on the floor as soon as you finish, snatching at the speed of light for some hand sanitiser, lube and another condom. You more than happily oblige with all of his steps and strip off his shirt, kissing the living daylights out of him before he’s even slotted the condom on. He kisses you back with equal fervour nonetheless, exploring your whole mouth with the tip of his tongue. He cautiously adds some lube to the sides of the condom and slips into you while you’re still atop him. You moan at the penetration, arching your body forwards and hereby giving Timothée a full view of your breasts and the way they bounce with his every thrust inside you.

You moan pornographically at his slow and passionate movements upwards and deep inside you, finding your special spot within moments. He settles his hands upon your hips, squeezing them and guiding your every movement. You ride him just the way he wants you to, you can see it in his eyes. He looks at you like a teenage boy would at a naked supermodel, of which you are only naked and most definitely not a supermodel, despite him treating you like one, and Timothée is thankfully older than a teenage boy yearning for sex.

“You look so fucking brilliant.” He tells you, admiring the way that your face contorts with pleasure while taking every inch of him.

You rhythmically grind your hips against him, swirling them occasionally just to hear him cry out. Nothing is a hinderance from you going faster, but this sex isn’t needing to be urgent to be satisfying. He squeezes your hips harder and you decides to move up a little further, bouncing back down on him as he becomes buried to the hilt in your desperate core. You do it again, engulfing him anew and moaning his name continually from the mix of friction and pleasure that’s sending you into another euphoria, but not enough to release again just yet.

Timothée still hasn’t taken his eyes off you, namely your breasts where he’s currently focussed, eyes trained on your hardened nipples - partly from not wearing a shirt and partly from Timothée’s ministrations. He leans up and captures your left nipple in his mouth, sucking and kissing and swirling his tongue around you in the most divine way possible. He moves his hands away from your hips too, allowing you to grind your hips on his in any way that you like. His one hand moves to your other breast, tweaking and pulling at your right peak and sending sensations through your body that you’d never realised could be real before; while his other slips to the rounds of your ass, squeezing delectably.

“Mr Chalamet, p-please,” you find yourself begging, leaning down while still riding him, his torture on your breasts never ceasing, not even when he thrusts his hips up one final time, allowing your core to devour him whole and sending you into your third otherworldly climax of the night.

“Timothée!” You scream, your climax pouring out of you. You feel him come too, and you hear him cry out your name like a blessing.

He doesn’t pressure you, he just waits until you’re able to clamber off him with as minimal pain and exhaustion as possible, though you do whine at the loss of contact as you lie beside him, his arms securely around you and holding you as close to him as possible. It doesn’t matter that you’re both sweaty or spent, it just feels special.

“Look at that, done before 1am.” He chides, cuddling into you. You laugh a little at him, especially his humour, but it is rather remarkable.

“Two rounds, a meal, and a concert. Can’t speak for you, but I’m knackered.” He smiles at you sleepily, passing you the shirt that you wore earlier. You shrug it on and do it up while Timothée puts his joggers back on and draws the curtains, leaving the two of you in dark for the most part. You lie further down, still close to his thin chest, you hear his breathing rattle a little, but it's soothing.

“Night beautiful.” Is the last thing you hear before falling asleep in his arms.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

The only issue about sleeping with Timothée is that you forget it's a Saturday morning, and on Saturdays, you have to work. Your phone alarm starts to go off at 7.15 precisely, which when you’re home, gives you enough chance to get ready for teaching in a calm manner so that you aren’t already angry before teaching little children how to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Today however, that is not the case.

Timothée sleeps through it somehow, but your eyes are shocked wide awake, causing you to leap from the comfort and warmth of his bed and cuddles just to crawl on the floor in search of your phone and where it fell last night. You find it next to his door somehow, and switch the alarm off immediately, propping yourself up against the door to release a long held breath and to watch the sun rise through his windows. He looks so beautiful asleep, his lips parted slightly, soft snores escaping every so often, dark eyebrows furrowed and his mop of curls haphazardly lying around him like a halo. The morning glow makes his cheekbones appear even more defined.

You want to gather your belongings without waking him, get dressed and catch a cab back to your flat, but just as you go to open his door, he stirs.

“Where do you think you’re going beautiful? Come back to bed, I’m keeping you here with me forever.” You know he’s joking, and his words melt your heart and inhibitions a little, but you can’t justify staying

“I have to work, my first student is at 9.30.” You say, walking across to stand beside his bed and brush some hair off his forehead, kissing him and your lips lingering on his sweaty skin a little longer than they probably should have.

“And? I’ll drive you home in time, if you live near Juilliard then I know a shortcut. Just come back.” He's virtually pleading, puppy eyes and quivering lip just to add to the effect, and you simply can’t say no when he looks so perfect. You place your things on the floor by the bed and slip beside him, allowing your eyes to flutter shut just a moment longer.

His finger traces your naked body beneath the shirt, focussing on the bruises he left on your hips and the marks on your neck. Just his touch is enough to take control of your body, to give you goosebumps, to electrify every feeling of love and lust held within.

“Can I use your shower please?” You ask him, and he nods, placing his chin atop your head.

“I’ll take you to my bathroom and then I’ll make you breakfast. Grab whatever clothing you want from my room, but you can’t leave this bed until you agree to dinner with me tonight.”

Your heart rate increases tenfold at his gesture, and you want to take a leap of faith and say yes straight away, but that would be playing your cards too quickly. “We’ll see.” You respond sultrily, making your way to leave, but his strong grip pulls you flush against him with no space to move. You can hear him laughing in your ear.

“Say yes to dinner and then you can leave.” He slips his hands further down your front without losing his grip and decides to toy with your clit as though it’ll get you to talk.

“Y-yes! God, Timothée, of course I’ll go to dinner with you, just don’t stop!” You find it impossible to understand the shockwaves of pleasure pulsating and electrifying your every sense from an action as simple as the pads of his fore and middle fingers twisting and pressing your sensitive clit. It’s so incredible that after the previous night, it feels like overstimulation, and you can’t get enough.

“I’ll never stop.” He murmurs gruffly into your ear, you can hear the hoarseness that smoking causes but god it sounds and tastes so good.

He pulls your body closer and rolls you over. “Hey baby.” You say as calmly as you can, but within seconds you find yourself sitting on his face, half of his stunning bone structure lost beneath you. He delves his tongue into your already dripping heat, licking as far as he can get and only pulling away to kiss and suckle at your clit.

“Let me come Mr Chalamet!” You cry out, and with one final swipe of his tongue around your core and a squeeze of your ass, you let go. Timothée licks you clean while you still chant his name, and he proceeds to pick you up in order to carry you to the bathroom. You settle your heels at the base of his spine, digging in a little, and his arms tense beneath your ass from the manner he carries you. You like being above him, able to trace every line and bit of stubble on his face with your focussed eyes that he stares so deeply into at any given chance.

“Don’t be too long or I’ll be tempted to join you.”

You slowly cross the threshold of the bathroom, winking at him as you close the door. He inaudibly groans, but you can tell from his facial expression and the tension in his joggers that make him look utterly sexy. You slowly unbutton his shirt, reluctant to take it off, but when you step under the warm jet of his shower, that reluctance washes away along with any inhibitions you may have had about Timothée. He’s an angel: clean, respectful, enjoys classical music, has a cat, isn’t a cocky dickhead, and he’s literally the most gorgeous human being that you’ve ever laid eyes on.

You run your fingers through your hair, standing directly beneath his showerhead. The steam clouds your vision, but you can hear Timothée singing while he cooks, Mystery of Love. What a dork, you think, chuckling to yourself while you rinse Tim’s shower gel from your body, and you just know that after this you’ll smell like him, but he smells delectable. As the water hits the most sensitive parts of your body, you remember the previous night. Just the thought of what he did to you makes you crave his touch again.

Through the bathroom window, you can make out the New York traffic that builds every morning, accompanied by the screeching of tires and sirens and car horns. Despite it being a ruckus, it's soothing as you step out the shower and wrap yourself in one of Timothée’s fluffy towels.

“How do you look so sexy when you’re getting out of the shower? God, I can't stress it enough, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my life, even without any makeup and with your hair un-styled, just wrapped in my Goddamn towel. You’re gonna be mine, mark my words.” You feel tears come to your eyes at his kind words, watching him purposefully walk from the kitchen and all the way across his apartment just to place his hands on your waist and tell you how beautiful you are. Those words are better than a concerto to you.

Once you’ve finished getting dry in his bedroom, you ferret through his drawers until you pull out a white top with various tie dye patterns across it. It’s cute, very Timothée. You pull it on and it reaches your mid thighs, making it clock in your head just how much of a lanky lad he is. You bundle together your stuff and head out of his room, closing the door behind you and greeting him with a kiss. He sits you at the breakfast bar and serves you a proper cooked breakfast: bacon, scrambled eggs, and pancakes.

“There's ketchup and syrup in the cupboard if you’d like.” He offers, sidling up on the seat beside you, nudging the tip of your nose with his thumb. The smile hasn’t left your face since you met him.

“This is good, you’re an excellent cook.” You tell him, resting your hand on his. His cheeks glow an even brighter red in the cascading morning sunlight, dappled by his blinds, but he looks magnificent despite his embarrassment.

You take out your phone, just to take a picture of the breakfast while it’s still untouched, and of your hand held by Timothée’s, already wearing rings. You notice that he’s already wearing a silver chain too, and a couple of bracelets on the wrist away from your own, which you find unusually attractive.

“I wish you could stay all day.” he whispers, placing his forehead on yours.

“Me too.” you say softly, smiling sadly and caressing his cheek.

You finish your breakfast and make your way to the living room in a strange kind of waltz orchestrated by Timothée. He insists on holding your waist and turning around a little, moving your feet in sync until you yank him down onto the sofa, catching his lips mid sigh which leads to a much more passionate make out session than you anticipated. Once that’s over, he plaits your hair beautifully, explaining how it used to calm his sister down before an audition. By the time he’s finished a very good pair of plaits, you check the time and it’s already 9, time for you to leave with NYC traffic, but Tim won’t let you go.

“Not without a photo.” He insists, but you question his reasons. Who would want a photo of you with wet hair in plaits, an oversized tee-shirt and a bare face? But his answer is too sweet to refuse. “I like taking pictures of beautiful things, and of which, you are the most beautiful.” Your cheeks flush a raging scarlet, and Timothée takes your few moments of silence as the perfect opportunity to take a picture of you, sunlight hitting your face in all the right places, and he takes another for good measure, his hand on your cheek and his lips on yours, a kiss that shuts you up for good.

He takes you down the stairs right to the garage where he keeps his car, and surprisingly, it’s an understated car, not crazily extortionate nor flashy, something which you respect highly. He sits you in the passenger side, making sure to kiss you before closing the door, and he gets in the driver's side. After starting the engine and leaving the parking lot, he lays his palm flat against your thigh and keeps it there the whole drive while you change gears for him. You tell him all about your childhood, your high school, your time in uni while he tells you his life at a performing arts high school and then his life as an actor, he truly fascinates you.

Once he pulls up outside your building, he tries to convince you to let him come in, or at least walk you to your door, but on the grounds of not scaring the life out of your neighbours and students, you say no with a promise to see him later.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard tonight that you won’t be able to walk.” He says, pulling you in for a final passionate kiss before you step out of the car. He made you wet just before you have to work, you’ll get him back later, but the revenge melts as soon as he leans out the window to blow you a kiss and tell you how stunning you are.

You’re so lost in your trance of Timothée that you don’t notice your first student tapping you on the shoulder and excitedly saying “Was that the Timothée Chalamet?”

You chuckle to yourself, watching him drive off into traffic, all for you. “Yes it was love, yes it was.”

[ratingtheframe]

10 Films to watch this Valentine’s Day if you’re single as hell.

If anyone or anything is making you feel worthless on the Capitalist Holiday that is Valentine’s Day because you’re single AF, then don’t fret because it means one of two things;

You’re happy enough with yourself to not need anyone else.

You’re allergic to people.

Though mine is both the former and the latter, I can still get down to a good romance movie now and again. Now I’m not talking about those horrendous rom coms that Netflix seems to be churning out every damn minute, but those emotionally invested, earthy and well written dramas that has you ugly crying into your bathrobe for 17 minutes straight (me at the end of Her.). Here is a compiled list of some of the best romance films I’ve seen over the years and how each one doesn’t showcase an abundance of clichés and brands them as “acts of love”.

A Star is Born (2018 or 1953, take your pick)

I’ve found that both the 1953 version of A Star is Born with Judy Garland and the 2018 newer version to be a perfect and well rounded love story. What makes this love story so fierce is the vulnerabilities and downfall of its characters, which even though there are many sad moments, it perpetuates and strengthens the acts of love shown in the film. Both versions are similar in that they follow a woman who’s rise to fame as a performer becomes overshadowed by her jealous partner, who is also a notable celebrity. In the 2018 version starring Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper, Gaga’s character Ally is helped by a country singer, Jackson Maine to become a successful singer and icon amongst the music industry. As she rises, Jackson falls and the character dynamics and intensity between them is a fitting love story. I was thoroughly bawling at the end and I guarantee you will too as Lady Gaga’s rendition of Love Again was the true scene stealer of the film. 

Call me by your name (2017)

I have an incredible bias towards this film and it has nothing to do with the film’s context or characters or even Timothée Chalamet The reason why I feel so connected to this film and proclaim it as my favourite film of all time is because of when I watched the film. It’s almost like seeing a film about a political event right after it's happened; you have this rush and connection towards something that’s actually affected you in the real world. I had the same feeling with Call me by your name after going through a rough and confusing patch whilst trying to get over someone I thought I truly loved. Turns out I didn’t (thank god) and yet Call me your name was almost like a shoulder to cry on. It’s a film that’s taught me to love and love hard but most importantly, not beat yourself up or try to distinguish the pain felt by true love. If you haven’t been fortunate to catch this beauty of a film, it follows two men, Elio (Timothée Chalamet) and Oliver (Armie Hammer) and their brief relationship in the summer of 1983 in Northern Italy. 17 year old Elio lives with his parents and his father (Michael Stuhlbarg) is a scholar who invites students from outside the country for the summer in hope of passing on his wisdom to them. This is when Oliver arrives, a handsome twenty something American who becomes the infatuation of Elio. 

I’ll never forget the first time I heard the monologue that Elio’s father gave his son at the end, explaining to Elio why he shouldn’t feel embarrassed by the pain he felt after loving Oliver:

“We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster, that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to make yourself feel nothing so as not to feel anything - what a waste”

That, ladies and gentlemen and all in between, is what love is.

Her. (2013)

Once again, another film about love that had a profound effect on me because of when I watched it. Her. follows the story of Theodore (Joaquin Phoenix) and his search for a story using an A.I to help him write. However, after getting to know this A.I named Samantha (Scarlett Johansson) and hearing the way she adapts and shows emotions, he soon falls in love with it. Some may deem this as rather sad (which it is) but I think it speaks to bigger constructs like internet dating and letting go of people you loved thus diminishing the fantasy and world you created for the two of you. This part of the film got to me a stark way as I felt the pain of letting go of not only a person, but a fantasy, just like Theodore had to do in letting his past partners go. Her. is truly beautiful, with some great production design, cinematography and acting.

Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)

The absolute queen of love stories would be Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire, a film about the romance between two women in the late 18th Century. Definitely not a narrative you see every day or one that’s been painted in such a way (pun intended). Marianne (Noémie Merlant) is commissioned to paint the beautiful and stubborn Héloïse (Adèle Haenel) and the portrait is to be gifted to a suitor of Héloïse’s from Milan. But instead of getting the painting done and sending it off, Marianne and Héloïse unexpectedly fall for one another at a subtle and well timed pace that had me gawping at the screen the entire way through. Slow, sensual and moving is Portrait of a Lady on Fire and I would definitely say is one of the best LGBTQ plus films ever made to date.

Broke Back Mountain (2005)

Ang Lee scooped up a BAFTA, Golden Globe and Oscar for his direction on his adapted screenplay of Brokeback Mountain. Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger) and Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) form a romantic bond after shepherding alone together on the side of a mountain. Once their time herding sheep comes to a close and they return back to their respective lives, it's clear that their bond is stronger than they had anticipated. They live in constant fear of their relationship becoming apparent to those around them, which leaves one of them taking matters into their own hands. A controversial yet extremely successful film of its time, Brokeback Mountain does a fabulous job of showcasing the consequences and despair of love using two of Hollywood’s finest actors.

Carol (2013)

It’s difficult to fully appreciate LGBTQ plus films set in the past as they mostly focus on the persecution of homosexuals as opposed to the love they wish to express. However, this was pretty accurate of the time and it's only very recently that we have begun to accept one another’s sexualities and genders fully so much that we play these stories out on screen without the persecution part. Carol is a film directed by Todd Haynes and stars Rooney Mara and Cate Blanchett. I found them to be an extremely intense pairing whilst they unravelled as their characters on screen. Therese (Rooney Mara) works in the toy department of a department store when one day she lays eyes upon Carol Aird, a beautiful and elegant married woman who becomes the infatuation of Therese. Therese throws all caution to the wind in order to be closer to Carol and because of this and the 1950s society they live in, their relationship is doomed from the beginning. I was in complete awe of the way Carol had been shot and created into this sensual and rich drama set in the 1950s. From the costumes, to the lighting to the acting, everything about Carol held weight to it showcasing the devotion of a truly talented director.

Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind (2004)

Usually I’d pass on a Charlie Kaufman film, seeing as they make no sense, however I felt that it was time I delved into this cult classic starring Kate Winslet, Jim Carrey, Kirsten Dunst, Mark Ruffalo and Elijah Wood. It’s a really well made film with a clear and distinct message to it that’s represented in some phenomenal filmmaking techniques. The plot line of this film follows a man trying to erase a past lover and his memories of her get wiped away physically before your eyes on screen. It made me wish that I could do the same with people I’ve liked in the past, but the contradictory of this would be the trauma of eventually ending up with someone you had already met in another life. I haven’t experienced a break up nor felt the pain of one, though I could judge that this film tells that experience really well.

Moonlight (2016)

Moonlight is one of few films that I would genuinely worship if it were a religion. It's also one of the films that I outwardly shame people for not having seen, as it is truly a masterpiece and film lover’s film. Deep, emotionally connected, colourful, harsh, moving and eye opening, this film takes you on an emotional rollercoaster through the eyes of Chiron and the three stages of his life that have carved out his essence as a human being. Not only that, but he falls in love with another boy at his school, and when he does, he’s hurt rather badly. Literally. Moonlight is the definition of profundity and was awarded the top prize of Best Picture at the 2017 Academy Awards. 

Loving (2016)

When I think of a truthful and honest testament of love, the film Loving comes to mind which is a fitting title for such a delicate yet strong story. The film is based on a true story of an interracial couple, Richard and Mildred (Joel Edgerton and Ruth Negga) being banned from Virginia in the 1950s for choosing to be together. If that ain’t a true sacrifice of love, then I don’t know what is. Choosing someone you love over your own home is an unfathomable thing and certainly shows the strength that this couple had in facing the judgements of others whilst remaining emotionally truthful to themselves. 

The Shape of Water (2017)

The Shape of Water is a strange yet enlightening love story between Eliza, a deaf woman (Sally Hawkins) and a creature being tested on in a laboratory. Awards season went mental for this back in 2018, winning four of the THIRTEEN Oscars it was nominated for. I would categorize it as quite the niche film and wouldn’t usually think that such a film could be garnered with Oscar success. However everyone who worked on this film really pulled out the stops in creating an entire new world and perspective that has many layers to it, as well as an abundance of conflict and dynamics for audiences to lull over. The relationship between Eliza and the feared swamp monster that’s being cruelly tested in the laboratories where she works, is heartfelt and honest, which is strange seeing as Eliza’s virtually in love with a monster. The casting in this was outlandish yet it really worked as all actors in this melded well into the story as their prospective characters. It also has one of the most touching endings to a film I’ve ever seen.

And there you have it, ten Romance films for you to enjoy this Valentine’s Day. Watch them all at once, or maybe just watch one. Whether you watch it alone or with someone, it doesn’t really matter!

Lots of love

Ang x

[maxwell-grant]

Is it weird that your article on the Grand Guignol (sp?) made me think of that Peter Chushing quote about how, he doesn't think of the films he's famous for as horror, but rather as fantasy, and that he tends to see crime and war movies as more deserving of the moniker?

Strangely, I wasn't aware of this before, so I'm pasting some of the quotes he's had to say on this below so others can read them in full as well:

“It isn’t that I object to it. I just feel it’s the wrong adjective as applied to the films I do. Because horror to me is, say, a film like The Godfather. Or anything to do with war, which is real and can happen, and unfortunately, no doubt, will happen again some time. But the films that dear Christopher Lee and I do are really fantasy. And I think fantasy is a better adjective to use. I don’t object to the term horror, it’s just the wrong adjective!”

“I don’t really care for the adjective “horror”. I think the films are fantasy as much as anything. Horror is concentration camps, war, murder, real things. It’s car accidents and plane crashes.”

[regarding the fan mail he was getting] “What they say in their letters is that the horror films of today, they repel you and you’re sickened. And the Hammer ones that we did make you shiver and shake and cuddle each other to feel comforted, but they never repelled.

And that is, I think, frightfully interesting coming from young people who must be so immune now to seeing these terrible things on the news – football fights and Ireland and South Africa – it’s just dreadful, isn’t it. One has become so used to that as part of everyday life that I think watching a Dracula picture made 25 years ago must be rather like watching Noddy in Toyland.”

I think this is an interesting example of how sometimes opposite truths can exist at the same time. I have questioned myself quite a bit on just how much "horror" does a fantasy narrative need to have before it changes it's genre label from "fantasy" to "horror". And I've come to learn a lot recently just how fluid, ambiguous and debatable the very concept of "genre" is and how it's hardly even consistent within itself globally or historically.

On one hand, obviously the films Mr Cushing's been a part of are called horror films because they are part of the horror genre as it's been defined, and I don't think anyone's going to stop calling Dracula a horror story anytime soon, and of course horror and fantasy are not mutually exclusives. A horror story doesn't stop being a horror story just because you are not affected by what it's depicting, just as a comedy doesn't stop being a comedy because you don't find it funny. Mary and Max and Texas Chainsaw Massacre are two incredibly different movies that both shook me deeply on a first watch, and Mary and Max's material affected me much more deeply, but that doesn't mean I'm going to call it a horror film even if it did horrify me much more than Texas Chainsaw (Mary and Max is a genuinely incredible film, to be clear, but I never want to see it again)

But on the other hand, horror is a catch-all label that frays and tears at the seams the more you look at it, and he's right that the label in itself is just an adjective often tacked to pretty straightforward fantasy stories that happen to revolve around monsters and murderers and whatnot. And he's absolutely right that there's a world of difference between horror in fiction through fantasy, and horror in fiction through depictions of real, stark things we can call "horrors", and that this separation is incredibly important.

I'm thinking back to Bogleech's review of It: Chapter Two where he briefly touched on why the film's usage of homophobia for a scare was crude and misguided and tonally at odds with what the rest of the film, and the horror genre, strives for:

Some people with innocent enough intention will say that the shock and horror of the sequence is a good thing; that the audience should be disgusted by what they see happen here, which is certainly true. They might also point out that being horrified is exactly what you pay for when you go to see a horror movie, and that the scene gives context to the nature of a town possessed by pure evil.

There is, however, a very big difference between a spooky, imaginary boogiemonster and a regular, realistic hate crime. The boogiemonster is an entertaining, exciting kind of horror because it isn't real. The hate crime is something that could really happen to someone walking in and out of that same movie theater that same night, which is not the fun, entertaining or cool kind of scary. Killing off gay people is also nothing new to the horror genre at all, and there's a point at which it stops feeling like a social message and starts feeling more like a cheap prop, like the dog or cat you know is only present so we'll get to see how mean the villain really is.

Don't get me wrong, there have been horror narratives that explored the subject of hatred quite well, but it ISN'T ever explored any further here. In fact, it's never mentioned again and leaves no impact on the storyline other than the fact that it is how Mike discovers that IT has returned. Almost anything could have served this purpose, and the scene is even stripped of additional context and relevance it had in the novel. Ultimately, it just feels poorly handled, overshadows the rest of the film's horror, and didn't do much to really move the narrative forward.

And I can speak from experience that I've definitely seen and met way too often people who don't quite know how to tell the difference and it shows, it really shows in a way that doesn't just cheapens the works they are making but also makes them more, I guess the word I'd use is "childish", like it's coming from a deep lack of understanding or reference point or even a desire to further understand what exactly the things being depicted are or why they are terrible or why they affect people so deeply, the kind of stuff that, if you've lived through or seen or bonded with people who've been through them, kinda bleeds through your art even when you don't intentionally set out to portray them.

And to an extent I think that's where Peter Cushing's coming from, as someone who did indeed experience great horror and tragedy, who lived through the Great Depression and both World Wars and the Korean War and lost the love of his life when he was 48, and made a career playing villains, of course he's gonna look at the word "horror" applied to what he's doing and think that it's not at all horror, that's not what horror looks like to him.

But, to an extent, that's also a big part of what horror is supposed to do in the first place, as a distraction from the horrors of reality, a mirror upon said horrors, and an outlet for the experiencing of emotions attached to tragedy and horror, but nobody's getting hurt and you can get something out of it without having to live through it. It's a deeply, deeply important thing regardless of what you call it.

And I'm starting to wonder if, in the future, labels like "horror", "fantasy", "pulp" and "superhero" aren't going to fray and lose meaning further and further until we have to start coming up with new ones to retroactively define history through, something we already do, and even myself am guilty of.

So I guess it's not impossible that Cushing's going to have been ultimately right in his assessment.

[mittensmorgul]

As Above, So Below

I’m still trying to pinpoint exactly why the focus on “heaven is fixed and actually a paradise now!” is just so deeply unsatisfying to me. And I think I need to preface this with a bit of backstory about me, because I think that gives the rest of this essay some relevant context.

I know this isn’t relevant to my main point here, but this is a metatextual and thematically identical example of the exact thing I’m gonna lay out, because context is always helpful. So please forgive this seemingly irrelevant detour, because I promise it will be relevant by the end.

(plus, would it really be an Essay By Mittens™ without at least one baffling tangent? no, it would not!)

Tangent time!

I think everyone that follows me knows how skeptical I was... or should I say how WARY I was of the way Eileen was returned to the narrative this season. We were warned in the PREVIOUS EPISODE how much Chuck was attempting to interfere in their lives. I was accused of some very nasty things, of hating the ship, or hating the character of Eileen, or of hating Sam and not wanting them to be happy. No amount of pointing at obvious warning signs in the text, no amount of yelling about Sam’s God Wound or the absolute klaxon warning that the wound had become “quiet” and his Chuck-O-Vision Nightmares had apparently stopped seemed to matter. I was declared “wrong” and told to shut up.

And then 15.09 happened, and basically everything I’d been wary of was shown to be what actually happened, but there were still unresolved issues. Eileen doubted her own feelings and walked away. She doubted what was actually real. And at the time, I said many times that I would be thrilled to see those issues resolved by the end of the season, and for her to truly know that what she’d felt growing between her and Sam was real. And by the end of the season, despite my personal horror at her previous situation (and having that personal horror compounded by the fandom literally gaslighting me and attempting to bully me into ignoring this basic actual plot detail of this specific growth process which... in the context of what my personal objection was to accepting her return at face value in the first place having been personal trauma associated with gaslighting and manipulation...) by the time 15.18 aired, I was 100% convinced that Sam and Eileen had fully chosen each other, and felt the traumatic pain Sam suffered during that text conversation with her during the snap. She NEEDED to come back, because she had been set up to be part of Sam’s Win. They were clearly each other’s future.

The show literally put in all the work to make even *me* feel this to be True and Right and Good. And then after that point we never even hear Eileen’s name again. We never were told that she was even returned at the end of 15.19. Sam, who had been so entirely devastated by her disappearance in the previous episode that he couldn’t even process it was apparently hit with an amnesia hammer and just... never even thought about her again through a long greyscale life with a blurry baby Dean factory vaguely in the background of a single scene of his life. I can’t credit or justify how after an entire year invested in making us all truly care about Sam and Eileen and the happiness they found in each other if only the cosmos would allow them to choose each other in the end would just... erase all of that in the series finale.

Which brings me to the second tangent, which is specifically about *me,* and how I feel about the cosmic order in the television show Supernatural. Because I feel a lot about it. Probably more than most people ever did. And this is also important to understanding the main underlying point I need to make here.

Something I’ve been most looking forward to, for YEARS, about Supernatural eventually ending someday was writing a book, or a thesis, or even just organizing and compiling all my observations into a cohesive narrative specifically about the cosmology of the Supernatural universe. I’ve been cobbling together my observations and realizations about the nature of heaven, hell, purgatory, the empty, the alternate universes we’ve seen, and yes, even the cosmic function of the mundane level of the story as told by events that transpired on Earth. So of everyone watching this dumb show for the last 15 years, I don’t actually know anyone who cared more that I did about finding a satisfactory resolution and transformation of every plane of existence-- the mortal world AND the “afterlife realms” we’ve experienced on this show. And in the wake of the finale, I feel cheated out of that. Because in the end, it wasn’t about the triumph of free will and a flip of the script, it was just more of the same.

And now that I have those two preliminaries out of the way, I’ll finally get to the point. :’D

(hooray, it didn’t even take 1k words to get there for once!)

The “main stage” of Supernatural has always been Earth. It’s always been “Humanity.” At the very start, we meet two men whose lives had always been dictated to them by higher powers. At first, that “higher power” was their father who raised them in his vengeance mission, who trained them to hunt the supernatural. It was the inciting incident of the entire series, after all, their realization that forces outside of their control had irrevocably altered the course of their lives. It had forever torn down what they’d trusted in family, in personal safety, and would become something they couldn’t outrun or fight back against for long before another wave of cosmic discord would settle over them once more.

We watched this story play out in ever increasing spheres of cosmic significance, until Gabriel laid it out on the table for them in the simplest possible terms (in 5.08).

GABRIEL: You do not know my family. What you guys call the apocalypse, I used to call Sunday dinner. That's why there's no stopping this, because this isn't about a war. It's about two brothers that loved each other and betrayed each other. You'd think you'd be able to relate. SAM: What are you talking about? GABRIEL: You sorry sons of bitches. Why do you think you two are the vessels? Think about it. Michael, the big brother, loyal to an absent father, and Lucifer, the little brother, rebellious of Daddy's plan. You were born to this, boys. It's your destiny! It was always you! As it is in heaven, so it must be on earth. One brother has to kill the other. DEAN: What the hell are you saying? GABRIEL: Why do you think I've always taken such an interest in you? Because from the moment Dad flipped on the lights around here, we knew it was all gonna end with you. Always. A long pause. SAM and DEAN look down, then at each other. DEAN: No. That's not gonna happen. GABRIEL: I'm sorry. But it is. GABRIEL sighs. GABRIEL: Guys. I wish this were a TV show. Easy answers, endings wrapped up in a bow...but this is real, and it's gonna end bloody for all of us. That's just how it's gotta be. ***

And isn’t that all even 1000x more painfully ironic that it all still happened even 10 years later? It was always going to end with them. And lol, “I wish this were a TV show” because if it was then it wouldn’t have to end bloody.

But this… was a Major Acknowledgement that the meta level of this story was consistent, and was telling us something important. It demonstrated that the Cosmic Structure Itself was the cause for Sam and Dean’s “destiny” in this story. But that’s not what the point of this story has ever been.

Nobody (including me, who is literally obsessed with this aspect of the story) has ever invested themselves in the narrative of Supernatural because they cared about the fate of the cosmic order over and above the fate of the characters who had committed to overthrowing it all, to “tearing up the pages” and writing their own destinies. I mean, we became invested because Sam, Dean, and Cas as characters took us by the hand and invited us to come along with them as they battled against fate for the good of EARTH and HUMANITY.

And certainly, Heaven being a horrific sort of eternal replay of the “highlights” of individual souls greatest hits, where free will didn’t apply as everyone was just boxed away into their individual holodecks to serve as some sort of giant Heaven Battery powering the furtherance of this narrative, this “cosmic order” that had become so powerful it dictated the events and manipulated the lives of people who still existed in the ostensible realm of free will and human life on Earth… that couldn’t stand in the end. But what the narrative (and people I’ve seen attempting to justify the finale as narratively sensible) seems to have forgotten was that all of that was Chuck’s construct to begin with. That without Chuck holding his kingdom in Heaven together, the walls of all those soul cubicles ceased to even be relevant.

After spending their entire lives to this point constantly fighting their way to the absolute pinnacle of the As Above, So Below narrative and pulling the plug on the original creator himself, Humanity should’ve triumphed. And I’d argue that it DID, through Jack restoring the missing essential “humanity” to the divine condition. And, silly me, I thought they’d achieved the promise of “paradise” heralded by Jack’s birth at last, and truly “flipped the entire script of the narrative.”

Ever since they thwarted the original apocalypse, I had hope that they would continue to achieve the same result right up the ladder. Metatron trying to fill the role of Chuck Junior hit his own narrative wall in TFW, while Dean’s battle with the Mark of Cain, and Cain telling him he was “living my life in reverse” and would succumb to destiny by killing his loved ones in the “reverse order” to Cain’s own path to downfall cemented this for me. Dean not only failed to kill any of his loved ones (you didn’t kill your own brother. why?), he SAVED them. He didn’t fulfil the prophecy in reverse, he subverted it. He UNMADE it.

Perhaps I was thinking on too grand a scale, that the ultimate inversion wouldn’t be “God is overthrown and replaced by more of the same,” but “God is overthrown and the entire order of the universe is restructured from the bottom up rather than the top down.

I’d hoped against hope that the conclusion of the narrative would be “As below, so above,” with the fundamental power of human love becoming the new foundation of the cosmic order. It never even occurred to me that “taking back the narrative to rewrite it for ourselves” was not the ultimate goal of Team Free Will, or the ultimate expression of their biggest win.

This whole “well heaven really needed to be rebuilt, there was still work to be done!” seems… irrelevant to me if they’d truly won free of the cosmic narrative. The entire structure of the universe-- including Heaven and Hell-- should’ve defaulted to the paradise state that Jack was literally born to bring to fruition. Wasn’t that the point of his entire role in the story, ultimately?

And if that wasn’t the case in the end, why did we never learn the fate of Hell? Was it just… irrelevant and unchanged after this? Or just… abandoned as a concept entirely? It’s just strange to me to put such a focus on heaven being the sole sphere of import in the end that it undercuts the essential humanity of the narrative for me.

The story itself had kept Heaven on a back burner for years, only occasionally mentioning that the structure of the place was falling further and further into disrepair with a dwindling force of angels struggling to keep the walls in place at all, that it seems like it could’ve been an afterthought at the end of the series rather than a focus so large it required the death of both main characters to make sure we all understood that Heaven Had Changed Now. Because TFW had never been fighting to make Heaven right. They’d been fighting to save the world itself, for humanity to all have a chance to live their lives as their own.

And we didn’t need to see that in the final hope they might get their own lives on Earth to explore. In the end, the fundamental narrative that Life On Earth was dictated by the cosmic structure of creation was never fully subverted. And for me, that’s the main reason I just… can’t accept the finale. It wasn’t a victory of free will and humanity, in the end it was just more of the same.

I appreciate the attempts to take the essential bones of the story we did get and apply a different polish to the surface of the skeleton, but to me it still feels like we’re looking at completely different beasts in the end. Like… to me this was as jarring a revelation as those drawing of modern animals reimagined as dinosaurs entirely based on their skeletons. Like, all along the narrative told me I was looking at a swan. They told me this skeleton they’re building out from is definitely a swan, without a doubt.  I know what a swan looks like-- a graceful feather-covered bird with magnificent wings. I trusted that in the end it would be at least remotely swan-looking. And then the finale ended up looking like this

and I just don’t even know where everything went so wrong. Or maybe all along I just assumed they actually knew what a swan looked like, but weren’t sure they could actually pull it off and settled for whatever the heck this is instead. Either way, I’m actually kinda grateful to the finale for being so entirely disappointing on every level, because otherwise I probably would’ve tried to adopt the monstrosity of it anyway. And I’m really, really glad I don’t have to.

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

Before the beginning for the writing meme!!

ooooh tyvm!!!

BEFORE THE BEGINNING — three sentences (or more) about something that happened before the plot of my current project

continuing the lovely trend of "i have too many wips so we're doing all 3 of the most active ones for these prompts":

the brand new Baby Janus Angst Story:

yes, i could have summarized this, but it was more fun to write it out as a tiny scene with no context to explain what's happening. (actually i will give one very small drop of context, which is to say to refer to the 2 opening lines i posted for this story here.)

"Logan, I'm boooooored," Patton begged. "Please come play? You've been over there forever!"

"I am investigating," Logan repeated stubbornly, hooking the wooden hammer from Thomas's toy tool set around the knob of the faintly-glowing door and tugging. "I need to figure it out."

"But it's still the same as it's been all week," Patton protested. "You already know everything about it so far! We can't open it. It's boring. Playing without you is boring. Come ooooon! Pleeeeease!"

"It is not either the same." Logan pointed firmly at the door. "It has an apple on it today. And the light is a different color, it's yellow now. I need to investigate."

Patton heaved a sigh and plopped to the floor, staring down the hall and watching Logan continue his mysterious experiments. He had Thomas's toy science kit out now. The kit was great for playing potions. But Patton knew better than to suggest they play potions while Logan was focused like this.

Patton dug in the pocket of his hoodie until he found one of the cookies he'd stashed there this morning, only slightly crumbly, and began nibbling at it morosely. He hoped that whatever was happening with the door would finish soon. He was just as curious as Logan, and a lot more excited about the idea of maybe a new friend like he thought was probably inside, it was true. But waiting was maybe his least favorite thing in the whole world. After being lonely when Logan left him alone and wouldn't play.

if you're going my way, i'll go with you chapter 7:

see. see i could have chosen to be nice and write a few sentences of analogical fluff about them waking up in each other's arms the morning after rescuing roman. bc that happens between chapters 5 and 6. however, i am far too invested in hurting both the characters and my readers. so instead of analogical fluff, you get a few sentences that will be the conclusion to a flashback chapter we'll get eventually (when i feel like making people cry). it technically does take place before the beginning of chapter 7 bc it takes place way before (like over 5 years before) the beginning of the entire fic. enjoy >:D

He let the car door fall shut and watched, almost numb, as it drove away. It turned a corner and vanished from sight.

Remus’s legs gave out from under him and he collapsed to sit on the edge of the sidewalk, pulling his knees to his chest and shaking all over, staring into the distance with unfocused eyes, breath ragged and harsh and loud. 

It was not quite eight o'clock on the morning of his eighteenth birthday, and Remus Kingsley was all alone. 

one chance to change your fate chapter 10:

here, have a little snippet from a piece that uh. i probably cannot publish/nobody will read it if i do. bc it is the story of janus and patton's dads slowly falling in love years and years before the fic starts. so they are the main characters. and they are ocs. janus and patton are technically there but also they are children. so. it barely even counts as a fanfiction at this point, it's just straight up an original piece in the same au as the fanfiction. bc i am way too attached to the dads and have fleshed out basically their entire life stories. oops lol.

but anyway this is from the scene where janus calls arun pop instead of patton's pop for the first time :) which happened before the dads actually got together, bc they were really really close for a long time beforehand :D and it's really cute and soft and good!!

(side note of great importance, there is another equally cute scene of the first time patton called philippe dad instead of janus's dad, also before the dads actually got together, also bc of how very close they all were even before the dads got together. philippe cried, it was adorable.)

Janus’s eyes widened. “I did it?”

Arun chucked them under the chin. “You sure did.”

“Dad!” The nine-year-old all but launched from the couch, darting across the room to the kitchen. “Dad, come see—c’mon—” They grabbed Philippe by the sleeve and tugged him over to the coffee table. “Look what Pop showed me how to do!” They seized the page of math problems and held it up triumphantly. “Didn’t I—”

Arun saw the exact instant that Janus realized they’d said “Pop.” The child froze, shoulders tensing and eyes going huge, the snake pupil in their left eye narrowing to a razor-thin slit of panic and the human side of their face going pale.

Philippe half-reached for his child, but Arun was quicker. He leaned over and ruffled Janus’s hair. “You did it exactly right, kiddo,” he said, striving to keep his tone as casual and warm as could be, to convey safe and okay and good without openly acknowledging what had just occurred and making it a bigger deal out of it to the already-tense child before him. Janus hated for attention to be brought to their mistakes, and while this was in Arun’s opinion possibly the farthest thing from a mistake Janus had ever done, he still wanted to be mindful of his reaction for the sake of the child's comfort.

[ask me about my writing projects!]

[zalrb]

Stop acting like your boy is innocent.

There is a 1864 flashback in 2x15 where Stefan is feeding on several women (three or four) in lingerie (people in 1864 don't wear modern underwear like bras, what they were wearing was lingerie at the time, it was highly indecent to be dressed like this in the 19h century, especially around a man), it's implied he compelled them to undress and to be okay with him feeding on them and taking pleasure in it because they were really happy about it. There's even one of them lying on the sofa. We can understand what Damon and Katherine did based on context (this situation is similar to Damon and Andi or Isobel and her assistants, this is a pattern in TVD, vampires with human people in underwear are all implied to be their rapist), so can we for Stefan. Ironically it's newbie vampire Damon who compelled these women to leave, and Stefan was aware of what he was doing, because when Damon said it was too much and he was going to leave Stefan begged him to stay. I also remembered that when Damon arrived, Stefan threw a woman at him and she caressed him. Women don't need to be in lingerie for a vampire to feed on them (ex :1912 flashback in 3x16, the women were not in lingerie), there is an intended message. When Stefan explained it to Elena, she told him "sounds like you were Damon", and Stefan said "I was worse than Damon. »

Case 2 : the women in the 1920s : There is a dodgy line in his diary in S3 which mentions his days in the 1920s when he says he wakes up in strangers’ blood with women he doesn't recognize. The mention of "women" isn't innocent, because it's canon that rippers don't feed only on women, we have seen Stefan feed on little kids too. The show also made it a point that he chose to have an apartment in Chicago next to an all-girls high school, which shut down for attendance issues, I think you can guess why...

I'd like to add that absolutely no one really took accountability in the show, every rape case was swept under the rug :

This is the last post I’m making about this.

Stefan without humanity is sadistic and he’s a murderer I’ve been very upfront with that, he toys with people - including women - before killing them but there is a separation between TVD being like, what would look sexy and erotic and disturbing onscreen

a la

(trying to go for this kinda thing which was an endorsement someone did for the Dracula trailer: The vegetarian vampire is dead, long live his non-sparkling counterpart! Yes, let our vampire stories have some bite. Let us get back some of that danger, some of that seduction of evil, and dare I say it? Let us have blood. Rivers of Hammer Horror technicolor blood. Blood, blood, everywhere, and all the drops to drink.)

and what Stefan as a character does, especially considering that Julie was going for a certain aesthetic:

“There was a sensuality and a seduction to the vampire genre that now, [nearly] 10 years later, isn’t necessarily as sexy, right?” she says, alluding to the fact that vampires can be compelling or glamorous to humans (depending on whether you’re watching TVD or True Blood) and have overpowering strength and speed.

Stefan gorges on blood, the woman on the couch is dead.

Her being in lingerie is for aesthetic, when he goes to his next victim, he bites her immediately, because even if he is playing games, Stefan’s desire is always about this:

like the twister game, it’s about feeding

so him choosing to stay across the street from an all girls school means that he played the same type of games or that he has preferences

but even in this, it’s about the feed although it’s made to look like it could be a makeout until closer examination:

The show in general did have a tendency to skew towards female victims when they wanted to illicit a certain image of disturbing eroticism:

whereas male victims were always rage or functional:

(which isn’t to say female victims were always used to illicit eroticism). The diary entry is easy to split hairs about

Stefan is the one who doesn’t recognize the women he’s with, there’s nothing to suggest that anything was coerced, particularly since in the same entry, he refers to Rebekah as a ‘woman’ so who’s to say that they aren’t other vampires he doesn’t recognize

There’s also the way it was written, which can suggest that each sentence is a different occurrence i.e. there were days he woke up in strangers’ bloods[period] in places he doesn’t recognize [period] with women he doesn’t remember [period].

This really just depends on how you want to interpret it.

I do agree that the show in general did have a problem with rape culture, which JP admitted:

“And you could look at it back through the lens of say the #MeToo movement and object to what may be a little bit of a glorification of a rape culture, but what we were working with at the time was a gothic romance with a fine line — a very fine line — separating it,” she says with a laugh. “And I used to get in arguments about it being a gothic romance and not wanting to censor the sexuality of the characters, even if it felt a little questionable at times, like specifically Damon and Caroline in the first couple of episodes [when he used her as a plaything and drank from her against her will]. Because that’s what vampires represented, and that’s what vampires were. And the culture has just shifted enough that you’d have to think twice before you dove in that boldly now, I think.”

But in this context, the issue with Stefan would then be the framing of his murders and how they were made to look erotic and not Stefan as a character being a rapist.

Not to mention, considering that at the time, JP doubled down on what Damon and Katherine did, if there was “sex” involved with Stefan’s feeding then we would just get a scene like this

or this

or even this

There would be no reason not to.

Anyway, I’ve written about this more than I care to at this point, so.

[kittyprincessofcats]

RWBY Volume 8, Episode 13 (Worthy)

Well, wow. That sure was an episode that happened.

Thoughts under the cut.

Anyone who leaves spoilers for episode 14 on this will get blocked.

- First of all, I want to now talk about the spoiler I saw for this episode last week, to put the anger from my last post into context: After I had just finished watching episodes 8-12 and started writing my post about them, I went into one of the RWBY tags bc I’m dumb and saw a post that said (I don’t remember the exact words, but more or less): “I’m so glad Yang is finally dead, so now her fans can shut up about her and everyone can ship Blacksun instead.”

… Yeah. Imagine seeing that when you haven’t seen the actual episode and have no idea what really happened. I honestly completely panicked for a few minutes, before remembering I don’t actually know anything and this might just be a “Weiss gets impaled in Volume 5, but one episode later it turns out she’ll be fine” situation. So then I had to look up what actually happened to Yang, because otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to sleep. So, to the person who made that post: Fuck you. Not only did you freak people out for no reason (because come on, there’s no way falling into the void actually kills you – and even if it does, we at least definitely don’t know that for sure after episode 13), but even if Yang had actually died, it’s super shitty that your first reaction to a beloved queer character’s death would be “yay, now people can ship my m/f ship instead”. Like, I don’t care if you personally dislike Yang/ dislike Bumbleby/ prefer Blacksun – show a little bit of decency.

Phew. Sorry, I had to get that off my chest because it really made me angry. Now let’s get into the actual episode:

- “Worthy” as a title pretty much already made me predict that Cinder would succeed in her plan, since “you have to be worthy” was what Watts told her in his speech. She’s gotten the message and is now back to efficient plans – and while I love to see it, it also very much scares me when it comes to our heroes’ survival chances. The last time Cinder was doing well, we lost Pyrrha, so… help.

- And gosh, this whole episode was so intense! I feel like it mostly set up a bunch of very intense situations that are going to escalate in the last episode that I’m very much not ready for.

- I still think the whole central location between the worlds is really beautiful, if dangerous. (They should have specified to Ambrosius that they want handrails or something.)

- Nora using her hammer like a witch’s broom was amazing.

- I also loved the scene with Jaune and the people at the train station; that was really funny.

- The middle of the desert might not have been the best place for the exit. Didn’t the group consider that there might be a sandstorm or something else unpredictable out there? Couldn’t they have picked a better exit point?

- Cinder causing an explosion in the middle of the evacuation that throws multiple people into the void was bad and all – but it was still one hell of an entrance!

- I love that now that Cinder realized that she has to rely on teamwork, she’s suddenly being so nice to everyone. Apologizing to Neo, complimenting Watts on “tearing the kingdom apart with nothing but his intellect”, that soft “You deserve this, Arthur”, complimenting Team RWBY on their plan, thanking them for teaching her “one last lesson”. Yeah, maybe she’s just talking to Neo and Watts like this because she needs their help, and to Team RWBY because she’s confident she’ll win – but it’s still amazing to see the shift in her attitude and how she’s clearly changed her tactic.

- It’s insane to me that some people correctly predicted that Cinder would ask Jinn the last question based JUST on the fact that there’s a part in the opening where everyone else freezes in time while she walks past them. Holy hell! I love trying to guess stuff based on the intro, but I would have never thought that far.

- Cinder’s question to Jinn seems like a waste considering it was Jinn’s last question, but maybe it just seems that way to us as viewers because Jinn didn’t reveal anything we didn’t already know. Was it the right thing for Cinder to do? I don’t know, to be honest. Yes, it did give her the chance to ruin the heroes’ plans, but I have a feeling Salem won’t be happy about the question being gone. Pretty sure Salem was going to ask Jinn how to get the Beacon relic, and now she can’t do that. (Cinder ruining Salem’s plans for the beacon relic? Let that be foreshadowing, please.) I mean, maybe it’s worth it from Salem’s POV if it gets them the staff and then she’ll have 2 of the 4 relics – but they could have still gotten the staff later, while I don’t know if Salem has any plan B for the beacon relic. And I’m a little worried about Cinder now. I always thought that Salem wouldn’t kill Cinder no matter what, because she still needs the Fall Maiden for the beacon relic – but if she now has to wait another 100 years for the beacon relic anyway, I’m not sure if she’ll have a reason to keep Cinder alive. (And I’m still worried about that “Some lives will end much too soon” line playing over that scene of Cinder clutching her Grimm arm in the opening.) I also wonder if Cinder even knew that this was Jinn’s last question. Did Jinn even tell her that? Also, when will the 100 years even be up? Do the questions just reset every 100 years regardless of when they were used? So maybe we’re already at year 80 or something and will only have to wait 20 years?

- The cut from everyone at the central command place screaming to them being dead was kinda funny in a “very dark humour” way.

- When Harriet first jumped onto that ship with the bomb, I, like an idiot, thought that she was finally being sensible and trying to get the bomb as far away from Atlas and Mantle as possible, not that she was trying to still drop it on Mantle. She and Ironwood might as well be working for Salem’s team at this point, because they’re doing everything to help the villains’ plan. And the villains are even counting on it! Watts freed Ironwood from his cell and is piloting Harriet’s ship. Those two are just straight up helping Salem’s team in their attempts to… what was it? Save Atlas?

- Ironwood killing Jacques was awful and proves once again that Ironwood has zero morals left. And I didn’t like Jacques, but that was the kind of death that absolutely no one deserves. He had no way to escape or fight back, he was defenseless, locked up in a prison cell with nowhere to run – that’s not just a murder, that’s an execution without a trial. And Jacques wasn’t even a threat, he wasn’t in the way of any of Ironwood’s plans. Ironwood killed him literally just because he could. And no one who thinks they’re the good guy (and Ironwood still thinks he’s the good guy) should go around just killing people who aren’t even a threat.

- And then we have Yang falling into the void. Honestly, as heartbreaking as Blake’s sobs and anger are, I kind of love this from a “supreme angst, let’s see my faves suffer” perspective. That said, Yang better actually be fine or else.

- Actually, my prediction is that the rest of team RWBY will jump into the void to save Yang in the last episode. Because they’re all falling in the opening, and because “Sometimes it’s worth it all to risk the fall and fight for every life”. That’s pretty much the only prediction I feel somewhat confident about, for the rest I have no idea.

- I wonder if it would have been better if Penny had just gone through the doorway and gotten the staff to Vacuo. I get why she didn’t, because Yang just fell and her other friends were in danger… but at the same time, she was supposed to protect the population and the staff (and she has the maiden powers that I’m sure Cinder still wants). If she had just gotten out of there, at least the group in Vacuo would have had some help against the sandstorm and the Grimm. But then again, it would have also severely weakened Term RWBY’s chances against Cinder and Neo… it’s a tough call, really.

- “Why didn’t you just learn your lesson?” “Oh, Penny… I did.” Okay, but that’s the thing: She really did! Just not the lesson Penny wanted her to learn. And notice how Cinder called Penny by her first name again? She didn’t use to do that. I still think somewhere down the line Penny has earned her respect.

- I wonder if Penny’s technically weaker now because she’s human (?? is she??). She’s definitely not used to fighting without her robotic parts (as you can see when she tries to reach for her swords and realizes they’re not there anymore). I summoning those swords like she then did her semblance or another maiden power?

- Blake now has to choose between helping Ruby and helping Penny and Weiss – gosh, the suspense…

- I’m glad Vine at least finally tried to stop Harriet now! (Better late than never.) But I really wouldn’t blame Qrow and Robyn for crashing into their ship. It’s not like they had any way of knowing that Vine was trying to talk sense into Harriet. Also, Qrow crashing through Harriet’s windscreen was amazing.

- Winter and Ironwood are going to fight to the death and I’m so scared of it. (I just need Winter to survive, please…)

- When Weiss described the doorway as a “one-way ticket to Vacuo” last episode, I briefly wondered if that meant they wouldn’t be let back through, but then I brushed it aside and didn’t think about it too much anymore. Oh, damn. You really do have to be very specific with Ambrosius.

- I’m not even sure which location is the best to be in right now because they all seem very unsafe: Atlas and Mantle are unsafe because Atlas is falling, because Mantle might still get blown up by Harriet, and because Salem might still come back any time. The place between worlds is unsafe because of the void and because there’s a big fight happening right there. And Vacuo is unsafe because of the Grimm and the sandstorm. So really, they’re all awful for the civilians right now.

- And now I’m thinking the volume might actually end with the protagonists split into three groups as well: Team RWBY in the void (that they’ll spend Volume 9 finding their way back from), one half of the other characters in Vacuo (Oscar, Ren, Emerald, maybe more?), and the other half still in Atlas/Mantle (Qrow, Robyn, Marrow, Winter, maybe more).

- I’m super nervous about the last episode. I haven’t seen any spoilers at all so far, and I plan to keep it that way. I’ll probably completely ignore anything RWBY-related until next week because the anxiety would kill me otherwise. I’m really worried we’ll get a character death or even several. And ironically, my first prediction on who might die this Volume (Penny, Nora, Winter, Cinder) hasn’t changed all that much. I’m worried about Penny because she has the Maiden Powers and the staff, so Cinder will come after her (but I really think it would be an awful writing choice to kill her off after we just went through so much to save her). I’m very worried about Winter because she’s engaged in a duel to the death with a man who has a big canon that he just blew someone up with. I’m worried for Cinder because of the opening and because Salem might be pissed at her for using the last question. I’m worried for everyone who’s still on Atlas and might get blown up by the bomb (Qrow, Robyn, Marrow, Winter again). And I’m very worried for the characters who are in the in-between realm. Not so much Team RWBY, but I’m worried about Nora, Jaune, and Penny. So yeah, I’m pretty much worried about everyone and very much not ready. Now let me ignore RWBY’s existence for a week – or only reblog posts I already have saved as drafts – because it’s the only way I’ll know peace.

[qwanderer]

Loki in the Hall of Mirrors

This story is complicated. Not, like, as a plot, not particularly, but philosophically and thematically. It's got that great play of hero against villain that I love about the Loki story in general and that makes it all so divisive and messy. And I love it even more than I did on first watch.

The first time I watched the desert landing scene, I was like, "Wait? What happened to Allspeak?" because the people who live there don't seem to understand him. But on the second watch, I realized it could be a lack of context, rather than a break in translation. These people probably have an even chance of knowing nothing about Norse myth. Like, what if an alien came up to you and said "I am Boogle of Bofgar, I carry a burden"? You would still have questions like "What the hell is a boogle and why are you carrying your shit here?" So the basic dynamic of Allspeak is probably still functioning, and Loki probably understood their questions, but he was still trying to figure out how to answer when he got distracted by the TVA people.

It could even be an innate psychic ability rather than a magical one, as he seems to understand everyone in the TVA, including the man who can't be fluent in all languages like the field agents because he has never heard of a fish and the seemingly nonverbal robot. (Which of course makes me want Loki talking with Dum-E and the other shop bots! But I digress.)

Okay. I want to start talking about the next-level manipulation shit the TVA are pulling on Loki here. Time, as they say, moves differently in the TVA, and one might even assume that they can avoid having to deal with more variants at once than they can handle. And yet we see them dealing with exactly two other troublemakers during Loki's onboarding.

The first, I'm going to call little echo man.

Little echo man is incredibly annoying to Loki, because he does and says everything Loki might find himself inclined to do and say if he wanted to be difficult. Little echo man does these things in little annoying undignified ways, making them look silly and petulant. Little echo man protests and questions and pushes back, in his business suit and his long dark hair and pale skin, and clearly thinks everyone should treat him as important even though every indication is that he is an annoyance and an afterthought.

Perhaps he's a plant, and perhaps he's just a variant of an annoying but predictable regular they see who they lined up at the same time on purpose. But he is on purpose. Everything he does screams directly at Loki, "Don't do this."

We'll get to the second convenient intersection later.

The most obvious layer of manipulation is simply the beraucracy. They put him up against a series of obstacles which he needs to deal with to get anywhere else, and nothing he does can get him past those obstacles except compliance. All of these obstacles have personality, but they are not personable. They treat Loki like a bag of trash they have been tasked with taking to the curb. Annoying, distasteful, but ultimately routine. His silver tongue isn't going to get him anywhere because these people simply don't care.

I think a lot of these he just goes along with to see where it gets him, since at this point he still believes he has his magic in reserve. But the fact that he steps through the robot fryer even though he thinks he might be a robot without knowing (as others have pointed out, he spent thousands of years as a frost giant without knowing it, and he's recently spent time in the control of the being who shaped Nebula) is a testament to how deep they've already got their hooks in him.

They treat the robot fryer like it's routine, but come the next obstacle, they kill little echo man like it's routine, too. Because he didn't comply.

Loki is slowly being ironed flat to thread into their compliance mill.

And then - I love this, because it reminds me of one of my favorites among the multiplicity of Lokis, GoS!Loki - they put this line in as punctuation between the impersonal, compliance, don't phase of their manipulation and everything that comes after it.

When he's set before the judge, someone actually paying some attention to him, this is his chance to use his silver tongue on someone who will listen. But, although the judge listens, she treats him the same as all the other obstacles have - like listening is a distasteful chore she would like to be done with.

So it seems like the perfect moment for a dramatic escape. Except his magic is gone.

"It's not your story," the judge says. "It never was."

That hammers in all the worst things Loki has ever believed about himself - that he stands in the shadows of others, that he will never have the central place he was raised to desire, that he is, and always will be, a villain to be vanquished rather than a person with choices and agency.

Enter Mobius.

Mobius is a big echo.

He draws all the attention in a room. He is everything that Loki wishes to be - he is powerful, informed, prepared, in control. Capable of charming the judge. And most importantly, he is actively interested in Loki.

At this point in Loki's journey - both in the show and in his life - that has to be irresistible.

So Mobius is in a perfect position to wrap Loki right around his pinky finger.

He listens to Loki without shutting him down, the way all the obstacles have. When Loki tells Mobius he's going to burn down the TVA, Mobius suggests a couple of places he might want to start. One concrete, small, mischievous. One an indication that he's open to Loki doing larger, more significant things here in the future.

He shows Loki his own past and future - but carefully edited, to paint a particular picture.

So many echoes, so many reflections - Loki is in a house of mirrors. Lost, disoriented. Distorted one way, then the other. Magnified and examined.

Loki snarks, and Mobius comments, "Makes you sound smart." Affirms Loki for that little mischievous bit of personality.

Mobius shows Loki some of the most terrible things he's done, and questions them. Pushes Loki away from them. Then changes direction before he can get too heavy-handed, to basically fangirl over the DB Cooper adventure. That's mischief. That's good. I like that.

Punishes him for a small infraction, just to remind him who is in control and that even looking threatening could be seen as a problem.

I think it was at about this point that I got hard reminded of the dynamics of the show White Collar. It's a buddy cop show on a basic level and sometimes the relationship can be very sweet, but sometimes Peter spends one too many times reminding Neal that he can send him back to prison any time he wants and the power dynamic shows its messed up edges.

Mobius is part of the machine, and the machine is doing terrible things to Loki, but I have at least a sliver of hope that the relationship could gain more balance - more genuine balance, not based on the faux freedom that Loki has gained by the end of the episode. There's something to be said for making changes to a system from within that system, but for that to be meaningful change, Mobius would have to change as a person.

Anyway, this current nastily powerful Mobius pushes Loki as hard as he can, and then is conveniently interrupted by the actions of another variant, leaving Loki alone with his remote.

It could easily have been on purpose. The only thing Loki learns by escaping that room is that the TVA is more powerful than any force in the universe, in his experience.

Let's talk about the other Loki variant for a minute. It took me until the second viewing to realize the symbolism of leaving a small child the only survivor in a place of worship, then giving her something to turn her blue.

Odin said he found Loki in a temple, in the aftermath of a battle.

It's actually frighteningly easy to imagine how a distraught Loki could get to a place where he feels the need to genuinely burn down the TVA, and kill every agent in it. Because the TVA put certain clips in his little future show, focusing on the death of his mother, the way his own actions affected it, and the futility and brutality of his own death at the hands of Thanos.

They don't show him the destruction of Asgard, his own role in helping save the evacuees, and the way Thanos decimated the population of that transport before it could even reach Earth. They don't show him the devastation of his home or his capacity to do good.

A Loki who knows that the power of the TVA exists and that he has the capacity to be Asgard's heroic savior would do anything to get that power and save his people.

But we haven't met that Loki yet. I'm sure we will, and it's going to be exhilarating.

This Loki is being taught the importance of control over little things, and so when he gets his collar off and onto that guard, he toys with her, just to see that he can. They have been toying with him and it's oh so satisfying to turn the tables. But it's still compliance in its own way, the petty little mischief that Mobius has been steering him towards.

Loki has been given just enough freedom, just enough choices, that it seems like his own choice to watch the rest of the slide show and come to the obvious conclusion - there's no "out" to go to. His life has gone on without him, and ended. And there's really no point in his trying to fix it. No putting things back the way they were.

So he admits to Mobius - the person who has listened hardest, probably, besides his mother - he admits that he is small and scared and lashing out. That he doesn't know what to do.

Of course, this is when Mobius introduces the task the TVA has for Loki - to take down his other self.

Oh, I can't wait for the next episode! I want to know where this is going.

(I've popped in some panels from Loki: Agent of Asgard because it's my favorite and the show is giving me feelings about it.)

[incarnateirony]

Time for a rant

And some hard fucking truths about this fandom. And shipping culture. And related LGBT issues.

Edit for reblog: Since everybody’s trying to be highkey mad about everything right now, if the cut didn’t warn you, or the title, that this is going to be an unpopular AF opinion you should read all of before jumping to any conclusions, let this edit notice be that. But this post includes a bunch of shit. History I more recently and more fully talked about. The LGBT men I know that won’t touch this fandom with a ten foot pole because of shipping dialogue. And the accidental two season canon Destiel RP troll that we finally snapped and voiced beyond the meta wall from PURE EXHAUSTION.

(related posts in reference: (x) (x) (x) )

we know season great we know season 9 and its potential we know season 10 -- and most of us know its cut scenes humanity, being human, colette, the altar of winchester, the secret admirer, the boyfriends that strapped into the abaddon/colette parallels, all of it we know carver himself wrote the s10 finale and got it to film and then it got cut we know s9 he gave misha a note to play as jilted lovers from the showrunner but then we ask why did this never make it well nobody in fandom was paying attention nobody paid attention to SPN struggling the first seasons nobody paid attention to gamble's era almost getting nuked they all swore up and down this outdated americana show was about to have a queer pairing go canon because, yes, at that point *reads crumbled note* wallpaper

In fact that last one, to this date, no much how much legitimate structural meta or even deadass text current meta fandom breaks down, whether they just study the microcosm of Destiel or the macrocosm of the text with Destiel as a piece of it, can not escape the claims of *reads note again* wallpaper and T-shirts.

one year into Carver who was pulling the show out of the cancellation trashcan and vying for it to continue now that it was on netflix a DUMBASS EXEC wandered into twitter and opted to talk to fans

the goddamn network CEOship had just rotated even

”Well I blame” [disembodied force outside of our own]

no honestly I blame (parts of) pre S9 meta fandom, and I say that as a meta author they had been convincing people of intent for years When these showrunners and even rotating network execs were thrashing for life Like literally even the heads of the CW were changing not even just SPN but some fucking how the “sages” of that era didn’t have any gat damn insight onto how that might influence future engagements So out of the blue a newish network crew gets BLINDSIDED by accusations of queerbait and giant danger articles that are huge PR bombs and it turns into protect the product mode which turned into the new S10 press releases with the spontaneous sexuality field on the characters and half the filmed content ending up on the floor the short end of it is fandom fucked up hard Carver was fighting for them But in result he got a corporate shut down on a product he had ironically exploded globally too well that was earning too much profit too quickly to catch that kind of bad PR Chad Kennedy was a fateful fucking day Ever since then showrunners have had to pitch the idea at corporate when it was a nonissue before And prove why it's a valid move with test groups and marketing You can say "prove it" I really don't have to in this rant, I really do not give a SHIT if you believe me, I don’t CARE if you want to reject what is otherwise logic because I’m not about to throw anybody under a bus I really like not getting people in trouble, but this alone is a glint in the fucking RADAR of how I'm going off.

hell ask yourself why we went from Robbie calling Destiel canon to being eviscerated by queerbait claims because it didn’t fulfill what a specific audience wanted or expected, to deleting his post, to only annual actors free of their contracts daring to talk about Destiel, to corporate shutdowns where it’s crickets until Emily’s return where she’s started YOLO posting about it -- but why, why, why did we go from actual support and discussion to silence that you still rage about

Without the season nine kennedy explosion I'm pretty sure we would have had inarguable destiel canon in season 10 like late s10 Carver passed his torch to Dabb mid S11 where they kept stringing it out and ramping it up within restrictions which is why Dabb runs a very weird fucking line Dabb knows he has no promise of getting it as far as his forebearer wanted or even had written AND FILMED but he will hedge out as many lines, esp with the hand of Berens that Carver originally passed the directorial note with, as he can Wayward was a huge factor in that and tbh my hope died when Wayward died that was a HUGE weight in the network Berens was pulling

I'm at a point where i've conceded to our jane austen novel but want to see how far they take that to completion, though in reality that completion was 13.5/6 that's when I went from like, I passively enjoy and accept this content to screaming into the dumpster it's not the landmark people wanted but story structure wise within how SPN handles it's the sufficient one Recalling Dean's implicative hookups since like season six I mentioned on one hand The fact that they went full circle and bookended it in direct script mirror to Lisa after the S13 lead in would be amply sufficient to het drama and I refuse to enable hets running around the goalpost on queer people I would love better open blunt representation but I also recognize the genre of the show It's something Dean and I struggle with our server actually DeanCas have been canon for a season and a half here but maintaining that without taking a distracting romantic genre tilt or whatever is its own form of challenge We write established relationship openly, without bars, to the point we DMed each other for months like WHEN WILL THEY CATCH ON WTF but the problem, ironically, is that it's so parallel to the show nobody caught on

which really, though it didn't start as a conscious experiment, and was natural tells me everything I need to know even wiping what I knew on production and itk ends even if I just had that it says e v e r y t h i n g I have literally watched people laugh track completely serious content, because it's gay ergo it's funny LGBT people. Shippers.

I wrote subtle lines. They got ignored. I wrote blunt lines. They flew past heads. I wrote lines designed to be overt to the point of painful. They got laughed off. Het culture is a hell of a drug. Both in this RP and in how we interpret romances like DeanCas, even LGBT people and shippers, because people are expecting performative results and statements where either for the former they don't fit the show or genre or for the latter, there's some sort of restriction or imposition but there's authors writing their gay little hearts out and tearing their hair out after.

I've been the author tearing my hair out until I wrote a Cas, explicitly, in a moment, to be as blunt and straightforward and unmistakable as I could, to the point I felt I was bending the character to even make it happen, and debated my options for like ten minutes before doing it, just to free myself of this purgatory. And STILL got a wash of questions wanting me to *confirm* the content they just saw instead of going, gee, that’s PROBABLY WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE.

Dabb is fighting the good gay fight and being woefully under respected for it, with Berens as his copilot, carrying a torch given to him by Carver, but people are too wrapped up in a mix of prior bitterness, performative culture, personal demands and shipping culture to see the forest for the trees, because he's deadass just writing an established fucking relationship but people would rather yell either queerbait or destroying the relationship. PR deadass pitched Absence like a het breakup drama and nobody blinked, just yelled how mean it was

Am I hinging my hopes on hammer-on-head-overt-canon-kissing-scene-DeanCas for the final season, no. Would I be surprised if it happened, knowing the execs? No, beyond breaking past corporate walls fandom dropped like a curtain in S9

But considering how "fuck performative culture" Berens is, as a gay man, fangirls absolutely should not fucking expect that either in even the most wild "the chains are broken, burn it all" method

Every queer man I know ships Destiel. Simultaneously, every queer man I know fucking loathes the sum of shipping culture with a vengeance.

Because it's grossly out of touch with MLM and is mostly WLW people trying to speak for what they think MLM should be when we already pretty much have the MLM right there.

YOU WANNA KNOW HOW THE ACTUAL QUEER MEN I KNOW SEE HOW THIS FANDOM HANDLES DESTIEL DESPITE BEING AVID SHIPPERS WHO SEE IT AS CANON ALREADY AND GET SCREAMED DOWN?

And since everyone likes to imagine the straight male audience as some borg, have a straight male friend exploding when someone called a fandom speakpiece a trainwreck. Bless his heart for not getting what queer or bi really mean situationally but his heart’s in the right place

I’m tired. Tired of trying to illustrate this to an audience I realized I have never once in my life been straight-coded enough to incorporate myself to much less understand the lensing of. Tired of watching queer men that I know who love this shit hide away in the recesses of DMs to hide from conversations lest they be accused of being homophobes or whatever by people refusing to read context, and/or just be smacked down by actual homophobes or just deadass rival shippers that refuse to see anybody be happy with something they don’t like in something that was never realistically a rivalry to begin with, because rivalry implies relative equality-ish and while all ships are equal in fanon, they aren’t necessarily in canon, and despite the thrashing and baying of antis this isn’t and will never just be a “fanon ship.”

Unpopular opinion but the biggest enemy to LGBT people isn't hets, it's the LGBT community, because we're too busy invalidating own own content and creators to make a truly unified front against het culture (or in this case, the network), and waving a flag with a lot of letters doesn't do anything to fix that. Yelling online into tumblr doesn’t fix that. @’ing creatives who have no power in this beyond the option to drop any attempt at queer resonant content cold turkey for you all to yell at them about THAT too doesn’t fix it.

No, yes, DeanCas are perfectly valid as Thebian warriors where one is clearly ace spectrum and the other is bisexualish if repressed as long as they are clearly enamored with and engaged with each other; no, nobody needs to fulfill anybody's migrating quota list when every romantic checkbox has been hit already that would be respected if they're het; would coming out statements in this sort of complicated relationship be great, sure, but they aren't in the kind of show that even addresses that and there's no way to make them even perform as the isolationists that they are without breaking or damaging the characters, not in the public eye, not in a show that hasn't shown a single sexual dean encounter for six-plus seasons for any other reason than to highlight a major traumatic problem in his life. 

No, I wasn’t “hiding my gays.” My gays just didn’t have their bedroom times put on blast while they even openly made comments about the nature of their relationship everybody flagged down because they weren’t making out in front of everyone, even if that hand *did* drag a shoulder too long, even if Dean *Did* inexplicably drag a naked flatlining human Cas into the FUCKING med bay out of the Dean Cave at like 6 AM in the morning. Yes, your dedication to talking down content is that fucking loud even if you don’t realize it.

SPN is never going to be a show where the characters distinctly identify "I'm a nonbinary demiman ace-spectrum demisexual" and "i'm an aromantic bisexual with a female inclination", it's just not, stop trying to make it happen, it isn't gonna happen, realistically they are not the kind of people to engage gender politics, they're just going to be themselves. And it's queer, and it's beautiful. Fandom needs to stop moving goalposts because it's becoming more and more transparent. They just need to __. Go to dinner, check, have lingering touches walking past each other, check, admit love for one or the other, check, watches the goalpost run off into the horizon Kiss, you mean kiss, you want them to kiss, but Dean hasn't had that in how many years and what was the framing of the last moment of that. 

SPN isn't about romance. Antis are right in that. But romance exists in SPN and one needs to mind the framework of it to not tilt the entire central focus of a genre show. One can have romance without being about romance, but people need to be conscious of what that means before they advocate about it. When Ruby or Anna were around they were dangerously close to becoming "about romance" which is why there was such a goddamn fit because these women were clearly tailor crafted to be plugged into a light/dark parallel in the back of the Impala

They haven't had a kissing-based romance in SPN for eight years. Ten if you cut past Lisa as a literal prop.

And if we wanna demand creator confirmation before we consider ace-y romances valid we'll talk about the biromantic commentary of S8 or the jilted lovers of S9 or the confirmed parallels of S10 or any of the overt shit after that, which got hit by marketing walls. We had that. They got yelled at for queerbait. Because it didn't hit people's quota. So we yet again hit a wall. Shipping fandom exhausts me. And I say that as a DeanCas shipper

I am literally watching people run their own goalposts around all the goddamn time Cas is so much more than becoming background commentary in the back of the impala like ruby and anna were geared to be He's his own goddamn individual, currently all but free of the wants and lusts of man from food to sleep to drink to urination to sex to PBJ, but deeply enamored -- per actual citation on the S8 DVD -- with humanity by proxy of a man he's given everything for Dean is a complicated individual who is growingly aware of his tug and pull with Cas on all emotional spectrums but has never once cheapened him to just being a sexual tool, reasons of which we can headcanon away, but he's never turned Cas into one of his bad coping mechanisms like Porn Star or Amazon or Deanmon's Fling And those, plus one waitress and a vague strip club incident in grief he came home from, sum up his post-lisa excursions, from a man who used to lay a different woman every episode in early seasons WelCoME to mlm cuLTURE In the actual L for love, not lust because kinda like jensen's headcanon of prostitute Dean there's even a chapter of feeling tossed away that's not what it's a b o u t and never was so performative DeanCas enrages me genuinely And if people have a genuine kink okay I guess but like, admit that's what it is. Otherwise assess the actual state and stasis of the characters in play and the cultural/gender issues involved, because it's soooo often either WLW or straight girls looking at MLM and deciding what they think it should be and it m i s s e s t h e m a r k b y a a m i l e and then the gay dudes hide in nooks or get besgieged by fangirls or are a Ben and avoid fandom entirely best Deans I've ever written with were with gay dudes tbh Kemi got the art of it enough to pre-write some scenes before they ever aired but there's elements that just vanish into the aether with either queer women or straight dudes. Different parts disappear Never had a straight girl write a Dean, don't intend to ever try wE nEed RepResEntAtiOn [sweeps hand at the show] if people stop running their goalposts around to the calls of straight girls, homophobes, and shipping culture it's right there. Is it monumental and groundbreaking, no, but SPN started as an outdated callback piece to begin with and has vaulted into the almost-current, so let's check ourselves in what we expect out of it. It's not gonna be a banner. But it's content actual queer men AVIDLY invest themselves in only to be told it's not enough/whatever in a world where there is dangerously low bi male representation, most is gay male, and most of that is hugely problematic stereotype easily replaced by a rainbow lamp wearing a boa and a sticky note pointing people towards plot. And in generous cases, are like Malec, which are a mix of creepy and stereotype. Yes let's nevermind the ancient warlock drawing the 18 year old dude into the allure of his thick eyeliner and glimmer and spandex pants, nothing to see here folks. but somehow we've reached a point as a culture that the above is considered better than "ageless deity becomes enamored with humanity through bond with one man, falling into him regardless of gender, surrendering all it knows to become like that man and protect that man, and becoming like unto a man, and learning the ways of man, through all classic romantic tropes known to man, and even classic endings and bookends of all romances given to man, only to settle in to a stable relationship baseline with a man, after sharing courtship gifts with a man" just because somebody, some fucking where, in a mix of bitterness, homophobia, and goalpost moving decided "public kiss or it doesn't count" even if we're left to wonder how that timeless thing knew what was under his pillow he kept safe that he came into his room and played him to get after a classic romantic gift.

Stop. It.

Yall may be wanting to victim pose because somebody else convinced you that you were a victim here but I’m a middle aged person willing to view history and accept basic FUCKING responsibility.

Because there’s a distinct fucking difference between “victim blaming” and “have some perspective and some basic adult responsibility in the unfolding of history as it happened rather than reframing it post-event because somebody else convinced you that’s what happened”.

The only people anyone is victims of in this fandom is people they took the word of as gospel without them having any sort of actual developmental insight at the time.

You wanna play victim?

Take it up with them.

As a modern meta author that primarily deals with actual legend and theology mytharc with a side of DeanCas structure I STILL run in to walls from antis erected by the people before me that did, indeed, use the methods they whip up as excuses, so if you’re gonna victim pose, I’m just as much of a victim of those people as you are, difference is I wasn’t enough of a follower to believe them when they preached “performative queer canon gospel to meet fangirl hetnorm performative demands of MLM we mainstreamed into our basic expectations because somebody told us to” at the time or now or ever. 

In fact, here’s the conversation that LED INTO THIS RANT.

CastielToday at 12:27 AM Old SPN has its values in a form of nostalgia or genre-searching it had a sort of drifter grifter americana vibe the later seasons lost

GarthToday at 12:27 AM Ah, early 2000's

CastielToday at 12:28 AM Well it's more than just year it was definitely a genre piece back then

GarthToday at 12:28 AM No, I know, but shows that span a long time you can track in it where you can tell writers styles started clashing in a way

CastielToday at 12:28 AM and that genre was pretty much dead at that point so even when it was new, it induced nostalgia "This is familiar I miss this where did this go" but in being so oldschool as it aged forward it aged worse and worse against the modern and Misha was the first bolt that really sparked a dynamic shift it was a breath of fresh air that carried it through kripke's plan and almost doubled its respective viewership in scale but still kept the old spirit Gamble desperately tried to capture that spirit but did not understand the actual essence of that spirit and budget restrictions didn't help due to twitter buzz she thought that spirit was "just duh brudders" which is dangerously reductionist

GarthToday at 12:30 AM Hey, Misha saved it in more then one way.

CastielToday at 12:30 AM the brothers were ironic vehicles for that spirit that gave it faces but it was a weird form of american dream that america hadn't realized its dream had warped into 50 years ago the american dream was a 3/2 bed bath and business degree

StarfiraToday at 12:31 AM I don't get how Gamble thought Misha's Cas was expendable. She just couldn't get her mindset out of s1-3 mentality I guess.

CastielToday at 12:31 AM but as that became labored with culture and debt the american dream drifted into freedom, exploration and the road with some sense of familiarity in classics, be it cars or music

GarthToday at 12:31 AM Funny, I can watch some episodes and go "huh... well... it gets better" and that says a lot that I view Se1-3 like that

CastielToday at 12:32 AM Once security was no longer a security, and people became anchored by their illusions of security into desperate survival to maintain that illusion of security, the idea of roadster americana was the new american dream

GarthToday at 12:32 AM Hmmm good point

Aryn Prime #TokenStraight😘Today at 12:32 AM I just looked at spn Facebook comments and geeeezzz

GarthToday at 12:33 AM I keep having to remind myself about a few details outside of SPN because being able to just wait for Netflix to get a new season then rewatch it all from the beginning has made me have a different view then others.

CastielToday at 12:33 AM So especially to the older generation older SPN has a strong nostalgic value you were lik six when it aired so that era is gone to you

GarthToday at 12:34 AM Yeah, 1996 Nov is me

Aryn Prime #TokenStraight😘Today at 12:34 AM One dude on Facebook said he resents that the actors have kids since he heard that part of the reason that it's ending is because J2M want more time with their families Wtf

CastielToday at 12:34 AM Whereas when it first aired

GarthToday at 12:34 AM I first watched when I was 14

CastielToday at 12:34 AM it was reflecting an age lost

GarthToday at 12:34 AM Aryn, wtf?

CastielToday at 12:34 AM to people desperately trying to find it but in reflecting old times it aged very poorly Gamble still didn't understand what made the appeal so regressed it to brothers without that true americana vibe while culling Cas which was a disaster

GarthToday at 12:35 AM See, it's like the same thing on how I can enjoy some older shows while understanding that it no longer works anymore. Older shows don't age well normally. And yeah, Se7 hahahahahahahhahahahahaha man once I stepped back and looked at the details of season 7 during the third rewatch I was like "hmm..... yeah. this sucks."

StarfiraToday at 12:36 AM I graduated high school in 2000 so those of you were kids when you watched SPN make me feel old. LOL

GarthToday at 12:36 AM lmao

CastielToday at 12:37 AM MOOD STAR MOOD

StarfiraToday at 12:37 AM AT LEAST I'M NOT ALONE WITH THESE YOUNG WHIPPER SNAPPERS

CastielToday at 12:37 AM You were probably in the generation that if you had tuned in when it was fresh you would have been like OH I REMEMBER THIS

GarthToday at 12:37 AM LMAO

CastielToday at 12:37 AM I MISS THIS it's not by fluke that Dean's theme song is literally titled Americana

GarthToday at 12:38 AM Ah yes.... the theme song....

CastielToday at 12:38 AM It was a whole beautiful craft

StarfiraToday at 12:38 AM I'm actually in between Dean and Sam's ages

CastielToday at 12:38 AM But it had to get with the times and Gamble took it in the worst direction possible

StarfiraToday at 12:39 AM I was born in 82

CastielToday at 12:39 AM Carver... people have their issues with carver but IMO he recovered the show as well as he could with the plate he was handed in the times he was There were still problems sure

GarthToday at 12:39 AM It's gone through some ups and downs, yep.

CastielToday at 12:39 AM but to boot out of Gamble era into the modern world was no small task The WAY HE HANDLED THE PR he basically was like THAT SHIT WAS A HOT MESS AND I FLUSHED IT but eloquent it was some shit like REWATCHING THE LAST FEW YEARS I REALIZED THAT OUR LORE HAS BECOME A BIT DIFFICULT TO FOLLOW SO I DECIDED TO REVISIT MORE FAMILIAR ELEMENTS

GarthToday at 12:40 AM When the people working on the show go "shit, I forgot to make notes"

CastielToday at 12:40 AM It's not that Carver didn't make notes

StarfiraToday at 12:40 AM Oh man were so ecstatic when Carver was announced as a showrunner. Ultimately, he let me down in s9 and s10 but s8? Season 8 will always have a special place in my heart.

CastielToday at 12:41 AM it's that there was no kind way to voice that Gamble was a disaster He had a three year plan and for reasons™ got even derailed in that plan and half of it ended up in the cut footage Destiel fandom do not like hearing my take about it I'm a shipper but I recognize

StarfiraToday at 12:41 AM Is season 8 perfect? Nope, but I don't think it's easy to describe what breath of fresh air it was after the shit show of season 7 to those who weren't there when it was airing live and binged through it

CastielToday at 12:41 AM yall fucked up b a d nobody will ever own responsibility for it but carver's intent is clear as day on the creatives wall and season 9/10 became a fustercluck as a result I want everybody in this room to think about this from a creatives angle, first carver then corporate Carver said when he joined he had a three year plan with final notes on his desk from the second he walked in the door again he entered in season eight We know what happened seasons eight, nine, ten on screen

GarthToday at 12:43 AM Yeah, Star, I don't have as many problems with the seasons as others do because hello Netflix, but I can see where the issues are after some explaining and some insight into the PR stuff that happened with the fandom points at Min and others like her

CastielToday at 12:43 AM we know season great we know season 9 and its potential we know season 10 -- and most of us know its cut scenes humanity, being human, colette, the altar of winchester, the secret admirer, the boyfriends that strapped into the abaddon/colette parallels, all of it we know carver himself wrote the s10 finale and got it to film and then it got cut we know s9 he gave misha a note to play as jilted lovers from the showrunner but then we ask why did this never make it well nobody in fandom was paying attention nobody paid attention to SPN struggling the first seasons nobody paid attention to gamble's era almost getting nuked they all swore up and down this outdated americana show was about to have a queer pairing go canon because, yes, at that point reads crumbled note wallpaper

GarthToday at 12:46 AM Urgh, gotta go help with dinner prep. Mom doesn't like me being on Discord lately so I'm going to have to cut out now guys. Min, I'll catch up to your info drop afterwards lmao

since that still surprising some people too.

[loulougoingsolo]

"There's A Wiener on the Left!"

In Finland, when I hear someone talk about Easter (in Finnish, Pääsiäinen), the first thing that comes to mind, for me at least, are witches. It's a tradition here for kids to go around town dressed up as witches on Palm Sunday, and trade decorated branches of willow for candy. It's quite similar to trick or treating on Halloween, something not as big a deal around here. But because witches equal Easter in my mind, I find it very fitting that in today's GMM, Rhett and Link were joined by Gavin Leatherwood from the Chilling adventures of Sabrina.

I've watched the first season of Sabrina, but something else has always come up, and I haven't watched the rest yet. Of course, I have watched the og Sabrina the Teenage witch, but let's not bring that up. No, actually, let's: I'm not ashamed to admit that I quite enjoyed the show, even the stiff robotic cat. But even though some quite unusual animals and other oddities are kinda the theme of today's game, they actually have very little to do with witchcraft, and more with the magic of photoshop. It's time to spot the differences in some pretty wicked pictures!

Rhett starts the episode by instantly asking Gavin if he prefers leather or wood, (Rhett likes both) just because, Leatherwood. Imagine being a guest on the show, meeting these two dorks for the first time, and this being the first thing they ask you? And then, you end up playing a game where each round ends with someone putting a curse on themself? 😂

Okay, Disney should consider making a Mickey Mouse movie where all the characters' faces would be replaced with dog faces. That Mickey Dog looks amazing!

Buzzer wood would make a fun name for a Toy story fan fic, and I know my mind is pretty deep in the gutter to say that. It doesn't help when Rhett says things like "I like buzzer wood, it's soft."

After Rhett and Gavin find the differences in the koala mask pics, Link has to walk under a ladder and flip a fish to bring bad luck on himself. I had to find out more about the fish thing, and apparently it is a thing, only not while cooking the fish but when serving it.

I'm not very good at this game. I only thought about how my mom has the same green Ikea dish brush that is in the second picture, and then I started to think I should load my dishwasher. If I was playing along, I'd end up doing all the cursed punishments.

Opening an umbrella indoors is considered to bring bad luck in Finland, too, but this is the first time I've heard about Leonardo DaVinci inventing masturbation. Way to go, Rhett!

I spotted the nose in the stairs photo immediately, yay! Honestly, giving Link scissors and a hammer to smash a mirror with was possibly the worst idea ever. He didn't even know which hand to use with which tool! The horror on Rhett's face is very real, but somehow, the chaotic energy in this shot is also very much what GMM is all about.

I don't think the picture of the chickens taking a bath is that weird, but just pretty funny, but now I really need to see that freckle. I'm glad Link lost this round, so we get to see his yo-yo skills. This round was bad luck to whoever has to swipe the salt off the floor.

I made an eight-legged cat from clay last week, but the dog is way cooler. I don't know why, but I think Gavin just put a curse on that pretty little rainbow with his wicked eye. But, I have to ask with Gavin, why would Link imagine a little girl in a gown pointing at the rainbow instead of Gavin? Oh, because he's Link. Obviously.

In the last photos, I spotted the creeper, but not the other mistakes. I love how Rhett's first guess, after Stevie said women are more prone to spot the last mistake, was boobies - I don't believe that would apply to all women. When Link guessed there's a wiener on the left, I tried to take a better look at the creeper to see if it was a wiener and not a person. I mean, it's possible, I guess. The Try guys just posted a video with Zack's wiener, so it's not unheard of. But, gosh, Rhett really can't whistle. That was equally painful and hilarious to watch.

Rhett also loses the final round, and somehow, his punishment is to get serenaded by two guys while getting a foot massage? I love how Link harmonizes the Happy Birthday song, he's really good at that!

In More, the guys play Light as a feather, stiff as a board with different objects. I've never tried this, but I did once play with a Ouija board with my friends, and I may have tricked them to think we talked to the spirit of someone who used to live where my family home is. I feel a bit guilty for doing that, but at the time it seemed like a good idea. I just didn't think they'd buy it.

Link admitting to Gavin that he and Rhett are the most sheltered middle-aged men he'll ever meet is somehow quite adorable, and I think the part where Link is doing awesome yo-yo tricks while whistling Deck the Halls in the background as Rhett struggles with the cardhouse while Gavin observes the situation, is one of those moments where you could send someone who isn't familiar with GMM, without context, and see how they react. But Link with that yo-yo...😯😍

Link may have shaky hands, but his reaction speed is phenomenal! I'm glad Gavin took his leather jacket off, it would have sucked if they spilled that orange juice on it.

Okay, I'm gonna stop now. They definately saved the best part of today's show to the end, because seeing Wushu sit on a pizza box up against the sky while the guys sing that song from Lion King is possibly the best thing I've seen in a while. And it's the perfect scene to end this post:

[the-desolated-quill]

BBC’s The War Of The Worlds blog - Episode 3

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. If you haven’t seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)

You know, people often ask me why I get so angry when I’m reviewing BBC shows. I mean yes I give Disney and Marvel a hard time too, but they don’t get nearly as much bile and venom as I give the BBC. Well that’s because, unlike Disney and Marvel, BBC shows are funded by the British taxpayer through our TV licence fees. I’m effectively paying for them to make this crap. That’s what pisses me off more than anything.

Yes we mercifully come to the end of this... this. Episode 1 was a slow, plodding and utterly tedious affair that was about as exciting as an Amish bachelor party. Episode 2 was even worse thanks to its poor narrative structure, terrible characterisation and less than subtle allegories. Now Harness has come to hammer the final nail in the coffin with Episode 3. Is it bad?

...

You’re right, that’s a stupid question. A more apt question would be how bad is it. Very, very bad is the answer. Very, very bad indeed.

Lets start with the obvious problem. The non-linear narrative introduced in the previous episode. The stupid early reveal that the Martians ultimately lose and that Amy survives completely destroyed any and all tension and suspense thanks to Peter Harness desperately trying to outwit the audience instead of just telling a story. Now, bizarrely, he tries to reintroduce tension by having the characters umming and arghing about what killed the Martians off and whether this could help stop the Earth from terraforming. One teeny, tiny problem with this though. The audience already know! Even those that never read the original book know how it ended! And even if you didn’t, the episode drops enough hints like great fucking boulders. The prevalence of typhoid throughout the episode and its correlation with the Martians stumbling around like a drunken prom date isn’t exactly hard to miss. Harness’ writing is still as unsubtle as ever. But worse still, he completely undermines and misses the point of the ending to War Of The Worlds.

One of my biggest pet peeves is when people (mostly Americans) criticise the end of the original book for being a deus ex machina. I mean the Martians get killed off by the common cold. How stupid, right? Except it’s not because those people (mostly Americans) are looking at it the wrong way. Your main takeaway shouldn’t be that the Martians were easily killed off by bacteria. Rather that we failed to stop them. The reason humanity prevails in the end is more down to luck than anything else. The narrator even attributes this to being an act of God. But here’s the thing. We didn’t stand a chance against the Martians. We didn’t beat them. They lost because they just happened to catch a cold. Now it’s not hard to imagine a society as scientifically advanced as their’s to be able to find some kind of cure or vaccine for it. And if and when they do, what then? We’d be fucked, wouldn’t we? Should the Martians ever return to finish what they started, the human race would be well and truly doomed. It’s not a deus ex machina. It’s a dire warning of what’s to come. A brief respite before the inevitable. That’s what makes the ending so effective.

The BBC series however completely misunderstands this, changing the story so that Ogilvy (an astronomer, don’t forget) somehow manages to weaponize typhoid in order to kill the red weed, which is presented as some kind of victory, when in reality it’s quite an insulting deviation from the source material. If only the Commonwealth could shake off the remnants of British colonialism as easily as these guys dealt with the red weed. Not to mention it just makes the Martians look really stupid. So they come to Earth, drink our blood, keel over and then... what, they just give up? Are they just waiting for humanity to die by itself? What happens when Mars HQ realises the red weed hasn’t worked? What then? Are they just going to shrug it off? It doesn’t make any sense.

Which brings us to the Martians themselves. The picture above comes from the Jeff Wayne musical version and is without a doubt the most accurate depiction of the Martians from the book. Most of the other adaptations have wildly different interpretations, which isn’t a problem in and of itself provided it works within the context of that particular narrative. However the reason I bring up the original design is so I can talk about what H.G. Wells intended when he came up with them. See, while the Martians are highly intelligent, they’re also presented as being quite vestigial. They’re sluggish thanks to Earth’s heavier gravity, rendered practically deaf thanks to Earth’s dense atmosphere and apparently have no organs with which to digest their food, hence their need to inject human blood directly into themselves for sustenance. The Martians represent what humanity could become as we become more and more reliant on technology. The Industrial Revolution brought about a lot of societal fears and concerns at the time, and the Martians are those fears manifested. Heartless creatures reduced to being simple brains, unable to properly interact with the world around them.

The BBC series goes a very different route. Instead of the giant brains, we instead get giant brown crabs, which, again, isn’t necessarily a problem provided it works in context. And that’s the problem. It doesn’t. The original Wells design told us what we needed to know about their biology, their motivations and their society. What do we learn about the BBC Martians? They’re big, generic monsters that look like rejects from Stranger Things. They don’t even inject blood into themselves. They feed off of us directly, leechlike. They’re more like animals. Not the vast, cold, unsympathetic intellects they were described to be. At no point do you buy that these creatures would be capable of building the Tripods or colonising the Earth. They just exist for some cheap jump scares and horror movie cliches.

What’s worse is that by changing the Martians’ design so drastically, any subtextual allegory gets chucked in the bin. The Martians from the book are meant to represent the British Empire at the height of its power. Merciless tyrants stomping all over the lives and cultures of the so called ‘lesser races,’ changing the environment to suit them rather than adapting to the existing environment. It’s Darwinism crossed with arrogance. And yet, ironically, the oppressors (the Martians) are technically inferior to the natives (the humans) as they are incapable of surviving without the aid of technology. The BBC series is unable to make this allegory, so Harness has to resort to straight up telling the audience the allegory. In by far the clunkiest scene in the entire series, we see George argue with his brother about how the Martians are no different from the Brits in their colonial ways. Not only does this break the ‘show, don’t tell’ rule and stands as a perfect example of bad storytelling, Harness doesn’t even bother to do anything with this other than just making the comparison. It’s been previously established that Amy was born and raised in India. You’d think she’d have something to say about all this, but nope. At the end, she wistfully describes India to her son in the most patronising and insulting way possible. It’s really quite disgusting. I mean H.G. Wells was quite patronising towards the Tasmanians in the book, but in his defence, he was a privileged white man from the 1800s. What’s Peter Harness’ excuse?! Ostensibly he pays lip service to the idea that the Martians are no different from the Brits, but he doesn’t want to really explore it or get us to actually think about it. Probably because it’s all a bit too complicated to get into, but if he’s not confident about exploring such topics, why the fuck is he adapting War Of The Worlds in the first bloody place?! Write something else!

In fact I think this is the root of all the problems with this adaptation. Harness clearly isn’t capable of exploring the complex themes of the source material, so instead he either introduces irrelevant social issues that aren’t nearly as complicated (women’s rights, empires are bad and so on) as a token show of progressiveness, or he goes as far as to uncomplicate themes and ideas to an almost offensive degree. In the book, the narrator is trapped in a church with a priest who is going through a major existential crisis and risks giving away their hiding spot to the Martians, who are busy terraforming the planet. So he resorts to knocking the priest unconscious and watching as the Martians drag his body away. In the BBC series, we see the old woman and the kid get killed off for no reason other than shock value and the characters have nothing to do with their demise, so they’re morally in the clear. The priest meanwhile doesn’t even appear in the scene, instead being relegated to the shitty flash forwards where his faith remains very much intact and even protests against the idea that it’s humanity’s illness that stopped the Martians rather than an act of God (brief side note, would Ogilvy really be this open about not believing in God? At the time of the book’s publication, the scene with the priest losing faith was considered extremely controversial, so this just seems utterly wrong). Plus there’s no tension in wondering what the Martians are doing and whether they’re going to find the characters. In fact there’s no tension whatsoever because we know the Martians have fallen ill and the characters are just hanging around, waiting for the fuckers to die. I cannot stress enough how atrociously awful the writing is in this show. We know the Martians are dying and the episode is about the characters waiting for them to die.

Jesus fucking Christ!

The Artilleryman from the previous episode was the same. In the book he was a deluded crackpot who willingly bought into imperialist dogma, believing that humanity could rebuild underground and eventually rise up and defeat the Martians. In the BBC series, he was a scared, innocent little waif being forced to fight in a war he wants no part of. It’s an incredibly shallow and uninteresting reinterpretation of the source material.

But the worst, the absolute worst, is what Harness does with George.

To be clear, no I’m not upset he gets killed off. I’ve made my views on him quite clear. He cheated on his wife because she was infertile and ran off to make whoopie with some redhead. The bastard deserves everything he gets, frankly. Plus I’ve had enough of Rafe Spall’s gormless acting to last a lifetime, thank you. What I am upset by is the way he gets killed off.

One of the most interesting parts of the original book is the fact that there are no heroes in War Of The Worlds. The Artilleryman is a young, impressionable, nationalist fool, the Priest descends into a pit of nihilistic despair, and the narrator survives only by his cowardice. He even goes as far as to attempt suicide, throwing himself in front of the unbeknownst to him dead Tripod because he cannot bear the idea of living in a world like this. It’s extremely dark and very cynical. The BBC series goes a very different route. We see George slowly become delirious as a result of the typhoid infection he got by drinking the poisoned cup of water in the previous episode (so all that stuff about the Martian terraforming was a load of bollocks) before, realising that he is becoming a burden to Amy, deciding to make the supreme sacrifice and facing the lone Martian alone while she makes a run for it. Not only does this open up a major plot hole - who the fuck was Amy expecting to arrive from the North if George is dead? They try to dismiss this as memory suppression, but I’m pretty sure that doesn’t apply to losing a loved one to a fucking alien - it also completely stands at odds with the themes of the book. When facing annihilation at the hands of a higher power, the arrogant Brits, who previously lived a life of privilege on the backs of millions of subjugated, reveal themselves for who they truly are at their core. The BBC series says yeah, we were a bunch of racist tosspots with delusions of grandeur, but we weren’t all bad. The main takeaway I got from this despicable, badly written series was a three hour pity party about how all those selfish POCs don’t consider the feelings of white people and asking why can’t we all just get along.

Peter Harness’ bastardisation of War Of The Worlds is without a doubt one of the worst adaptations I’ve ever seen. In fact it’s quite possibly one of the worst TV shows I’ve ever seen, period. It’s not just the sheer disregard for the source material that upsets me. It’s also the absolute amateurish nature of the whole fucking thing. This series fails in some of the most basic ways. His writing is truly terrible, somehow getting steadily worse and worse with each episode. It’s not just upsetting to see someone get the fundamental elements of storytelling so spectacularly wrong, it honestly makes me sick to my fucking stomach. Peter Harness, please, for your own sake and my sanity, stop fucking writing. You’re clearly not good at it and I don’t want to see my money go to someone who obviously hasn’t the faintest fucking idea what they’re doing. Enough is enough.

So it would seem that Jeff Wayne’s musical version remains the best adaptation of War Of The Worlds. In fact can we just have a movie adaptation of that please?