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unproduciblesmackdown · 9 months

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had a hell of a time (good) bit ago watching elemental and feeling things including enjoying a film, great ride, i love a metaphor & anything vignettey (just living life, alongside but also including the [this is about the metaphor] threads), i do love it when a couple of fun people have an enriching dynamic that they enjoy and huaaaghwgh (good) & i liked the premise metaphor exactly as is for what it is for what it did with it & i liked overlaps & resonances w/other experiences i saw ppl perceive. i liked the way i was going oh my god that painting looks the way i feel b/c like navigating a complementary dynamic where what's holding one person back is what helps the other person along, vice versa, no interaction or relationship that develops by like having some [theoretically your trait/quality/behavior] contained in the other person, rather it being an interaction within yourself, such that i was going "i have this interaction Within Myself, right now, in life currently like always and the past years but also past months especially really, it's ongoing, i'm going Oh Goddamn Omg" scintillating to see it externalized as a conversation imagined by others. and also still different / more capacious on both ends than "wow Exactly that." feeling things going ohh my god. music is going for it so Noticeably. hot air balloon scene And track changing me with an immediate Resonance

easier when having fun but i was also like continually so hype gasping about intrigued about pointing at art direction decisions & execution and one especial element i was sooo noting was the use of Color b/c it's Really colorful like rainbow palette nigh constant noticeable saturation, And it was atmospheric, always readily visibly parsed, varying in styles but cohesive. the backgrounds babey, with obvious priority for working with a vivacious orange and/or blue. oh and the related use of Light like different visuals for different glows and just different effects and waugh....i collected mostly a bunch of bgs to point at often for that "look at the color design & atmosphere" but also so much more & foreground things big time too. semitransparent characters like bitch. the physics of fluid dynamics. optics like refraction like my God. i'm mclosing it and that these effects would be sooo prohibitively intensive w/o computer but it's so impressive w/computer and that Stylistic Decisions were made all over, it's clearly not ever simply just "oh this is what it'd 'realistically' look like if uhhh someone was made of fire or water" even as realism Based effects were employed for style and fun and our lives. the use of of course 2D animation / art conventions for style and effect and fun & our lives!!! maybe ember a bit too but wade has a whole like 2D style profile so the [curved droplet] shape always faces the camera, how are we doing that it's so cool & i love to see it. not to mention being transparent but also like clearly not!! first time i've properly thought about how inside of mouth 3D animation has Ever worked lmao

cut so i can go on & on (^ that's brevity up there lol) & post mostly various backgrounds to gesticulate at what i notice abt the use of color like oh my god. and some other things. laughed, cried, lived & loved like for real lol

oh my god

and like immediate intro theme going "oh my god blue and orange making Purple (magenta, pink) oh my god we're doing Additive Light with that holy shit yes"

so extra [!!!] about city nighttime shots especially. and the details of all the building designs, it's all the shit like i haven't even sat and Studied any given shot for all small elements like that but that you know they're There so that it looks this complex and "realistic" like you know the attention & effort is there & you get the Overall Effect baby. also the way purple/green are employed to contrast with blue/orange often. the Glows here, the Bluer upper half and the Oranger lower half that both also have some purplishness to them, the Green bridge breaking it up / spanning this

the colors in closeups even. first of all the expressions styles are after my own heart & got it, and i'm sure i'll go on & on more there. pull mouths down do the m upper lip n lower lip lines combo, you know what i mean, i Love it. wavy flowy design vs more triangular / ending in peaks/corners design for your water vs fire aesthetiques. i think that's [heat creating refraction in the air] effect like lord. the pink blue purple here. the slight shadow framing the pic for better contrast, the pink / glow around ember, wade slightly Glows from within too, the constant wave refraction there. okay obsessed again with both sorta transparent and fluid Figures like you've got the outermost layers. you've got the Inside. you've got the silhouettes and the lines that are "drawn," reddish outlines of flame shapes and constant highlight "outlines" for water so it never "realistically" blends in with everything / just Is clear and is impossible to easily parse. that those silhouettes are constantly Flowing and responding to motion / pressure as well. i can only imagine. oh and the colors again that the Glow for fire is often a Soft gradient, but there's this like, slightly convex polygonal style of "glow" / Light in backgrounds a lot and it works great for style and contrast with the important Soft Glow from fire and even also water, again the slight inner glow there too. and again the mutual [pull mouths down] expressiveness lol so much fun. the Elasticity is fantastic, same with like 2D style Movement like invoking a smear frame for example like fuck yes it's about What Works it's about style & effect & what things like lighting color faces can do that aren't just aiming for "be peak realistic" like clearly it isn't. note the sharper line of shadow in the upper corner with a deeper blue. we framing

oh this one was to point out "look at how you can see the full spectrum rainbow in the wave surface light refraction oh my fucking god" not to mention of course In Motion the shapes, the effect, some bubbles and flow for flare and seeing that constant Light Outline, the cyan leaning aqua that's put in along with the overall slight blue not b/c it's "realistic" but b/c it's what works baby the artistic design choices fuck like hell. and only when i took this one frame was it like oh my fucking god look at these split second flame shames flowing off of ember there above her head especially. all the more stylization required for fire without it being like, "realistically" mostly transparent, overly bright, not very strongly delineated / silhouetted....the shape, color, flow of flames on the "inside," outermost breaking off shapes & "outline" as well augh god. and look at the purples in the background's left side

AUGH the night city backgrounds. pottery burn haha yeah the blue orange AND purple my god!!!! it's thematic ([blue + orange = purple] b/w the blue & orange characters) and it fucks like hell holy shit!!!!!

meanwhile the green & purple here with One orange element getting to stand out / not that much blue either, but more ultramarine style than aquamarine, and LOOK AT THE MOON!!! the surface!!! check out that Polygonal glow around it and the green/purple there too!!!

and the use of bokeh. immaculate, not holding back, after my heart. the Purple/Pink additive light properties coming into play!! her reflection is more simply orange(tm) sometimes and i would presume it tends purpler when we are getting [emotionally connecting / recognition of the self through the other] but oh my god heaving overhead like a hero this additive light blue+orange=purple ingenious and stylistically fucking like hell choice. and again their "outlines" working so well while also retaining enough softness/fluidity to be part of them as a whole. everything is so cool

there's the mouth shape i was talking about. you see the slight m upper lip simply n lower lip and resultant (idk like a video game controller?) shape lol. flexible expressive asymmetry. the closeup transparency of [can always see the other side of shirt collar]. green bg for contrast while also incorporating the orange glow. the full spectrum rainbow refraction just also an immaculate and probably characterfully relevant lmao as a bonus. also hell of cute moments wauugh yes, fun, dying thanks

the additive light!!! (how magenta/purple/pink the reflection of Orange is off the Blue like employing what's realistic in another context for what fucks aesthetically & carries symbolism. like wade wouldn't Realistically be constantly [surface wave refractions] but it fucks like hell. also wouldn't be someone made of fire or water but it fucks like hell & embodies a central metaphorical layer to the literal material). also look at that curtain from deep purplish red to deep bluer purple!!! the line of bright blue!!! the glow in the Background with sharper polygonal lines / corners to contrast with the visual effects of glows elsewhere!!! wade default =3 as [wavy featured] and inherent =3 vs ember's more flame tipped => (not pictured)

ohh this one for rainbow color / out of focus usage and b/c it's like how the semi transparency but only So Much + constant outline of Highlights / constant inner glow and visible infusion of like aquamarine / bright turquoise cerulean color helps a water guy stay perfectly Visible / parsable. also besides ember being green, an effect subtly pictured at any given point: like cinders continually rising off fire but depicted so much like Sparkles :') there's so much colors and highlights and choices after my own sensibilities out here like i love a shoulder swoop design that flows right into the arms from the neck from the head. and that's exactly what we get precisely b/c it has so much flow!!! ember's like whole head Flaring out from her neck, terminal points like tips, or sources, of flames. Styles

the bokeh!! the blues and pinks and purples!!!

ouuwaah

UGH obviously in motion the like arcing falling curtains of water, the shimmering....the purple into pink into dusky orange!!! the little bit of contribution of the turquoise light aaa wahooo, ofc what the bridge adds in Composition for this & that previous shot

lmao this is b/c Wavy Scribble Squiggle Mouth again the design choices after my own heart. the constant extra wobbliness to Mouth Outline obviously works great to emphasize [water design] but it also works great b/c i love it

every shot of the background with this beach is gongious like jesus christ. the closeup of sand is like that looks amazing and So soft. look at the wavy swoopy shapiness of the clouds, look at the [in this shot] faintly detectable Polygonal outlines of Glow from the sun. feel free to look at that water like i said every shot of this, wrow. tasked with Pretty Beach Sunset and coming through big time

expressive design contrast, glow contrasts, refracting, silhouettes, those flame shapes breaking off again epic hot wheels style fuck yes....and the bg!!! look at the purple to muted purple pink sky, the atmospheric distancing on layers of buildings that goes from blue to purple!! the dimmer purple / blue / teal on the ground in the foreground here UGH the COLOR USE

ooh i was so Noticing the like, full ultramarine blue here, like it's been used Before in any night environments but the way here it's brighter, making it like "okay yeah night but more Lit Up. also the visual variety of [water curtain] textures there, the area of Pink, the Yellow that hasn't previously shown up too much but might be saved for associations with tension / "danger" lol. also love the "straightup a pool" designs lol wish i was swimming

oh the orange + blue = purple on display here / translating Outlines

amazing sequence and again look at the Purple shadows the Blues the Oranges the Greens!!!! aughhh again like So colorful and so bright but also ofc dimmed, atmospheric, balanced, waughhh!!!

oh my god what can i say. "bisexuality" for one but and also fr like the pink of the sky vs deep purple, lighter with more blue in the water, the streak of oranger light, pink atmospheric haze....augh!!!

speaking of "and then really vivid striking colors in another overall palette we haven't seen before" the teal & golden yellow for this shot was new & noticeable. the yellow of problems, but not too bad lol, looking at that Contrast with the blue on the outer pool edge there. i wanna take a swim yippee....but fr like holding some colors more in reservation, finding new combinations, as Ever how bright the bgs are but atmospheric, non overwhelming of other elements, i Love it

bokeh!!!! colors!!!!!!!

bokeh!!!!!! colors!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

fucking roy g biv like yes gorgeous. nice tree evocative bridge. composition. lots of lights and colors but the distribution being so balanced, but organic, broken up in all the right ways and all encompassing....the bright orange lights in shadowed blue/purple buildings in the upper left corner, leading down to the path of lights across the center of everything....ugh incredible great

out of focus bg, the lights, the purples, the blue/Green, look at everything on the right side ugh lovely, the slight Shapes of glows, can see that arc in the right side as well, the emotional relevance of all the colors and glows as this bg dims / desaturates a second later

and so similarly here, the Purple, the Glows....like the use of both the perfect balance of soft edges/borders but no sacrifice in clarity

oh and i suppose there's then any amount of spoilers following but like, in part only b/c i point them out as as much but also like. it's about the journey lmfao you see two screenshots, containing some information, well you've seen it all

and to pad that out i'll also note without screenshots about it like bringing in a very like Clear for Compositional Effect sort of Danger Yellow again twice over, with the harshest like chartreuse leaning yellow yet for it, v much a color that it'd just take more effort to fit into a palette / would have to be kind of the color centerpiece, vs the orange/blue/purple here

(but also not to say yellow was never used otherwise....some perfectly harmless golds, paler lighting like just Daytime vibe, constant presence w/fire of course. so the Particulars of a hazard yellow are all the more notable)

the COLORS....look at that orange that pink red the pink reflections the Purples....the just deep slightly slightly purple red in the bg and how like smoothed over / Immediate that background is to just make everything close & present!! the flame textures going!!! water textures going!!! cinders as points of light!! the colors the orange purple pink blue UGHH it's amazing they're really off the shits with it in every scene

spoilers they do kiss about it and i was like smacking hand to forehead like oh my god and they did another "breaking out a new Light thing" when we've glowed and refracted within and without, lit up or dimmed, sparkled, reflected, used further styles in environmental lighting....answer was Lens Flare rainbow refracting glow like goddamn!!! and again like putting In the purple, but also the blue, the orange, the out & out more cerulean / aquamarine that is not gonna simply come from elsewhere in the environment. nice commitment to also having someone smile into a kiss lmao we've all been like i Will make this work. i'm still just like ugh the focus on and variety of Light too, the backgrounds' like soft polygon/hexagon glow "fields," straightforward soft/even gradient glows, wave pattern refraction, refraction also separating light into rainbows, remember water is a lens, stylized light of fire, bokeh, additive color mixing....holding on to & breaking out Cinematic LENS FLARE is fr like ohhh my god they're just fucking On It, got this, here's another effect for you

i also have a gif b/c i couldn't note anyone's fluid dynamics / flowing / Interacting physics enough, and little moments giving that some extra flair are a delight, but holy shit a highlight i'm instantly obsessed with forever, now if there's something and nobody pours themself, i'm out

oh we sloshing!! all the water physics going on here to fantastic effect but also all working within the confines of "and it's some guy." immaculate joke 5 sec later around the "i am Not an inspector" line just What a delight. the vision....the manifestation of effort, craft....i'm not kidding at all i'm like okay forever treasuring [pours yourself] clip and if someone doesn't get it it's like it's called joie de vivre, panache, taking all kinds. some sloshheads out here

again i had a delightful time at the cinema (figuratively. i didn't go anywhere. though i did go "oh fuck re: even the idea of seeing plenty of this in theater format" like i was going oh Shit at visuals and music and every damn thing enough already, can only imagine) i was like bitch i love ppl living life vignettesquely with the emotional arcs aids of metaphor, symbolism. i love the styles and designs and i love paying attention to details and going damn how they'd do that, i love technical shit, noting techniques that are centered around 2D derived visuals, about aesthetic effect & visual purpose....i was going "oh my god same. lately, always, ongoing. oh my god it's me always crying at everything, but also never at anything, and also just sometimes at some things. it's me with the Temper it's me with one like everyone else but not about to let it out at all / not be making room for anyone else's. me like 'just powering through like arghhh' me like 'that, but [a puddle]' liable to spontaneously interact with randos by just doing your own thing, also [dying] and beloathed at that, going with the flow trying to carpe diem it, having these conversations and navigations like just as one person lmao, and also ofc it's different" lol like oh damn okay. and twentysomethings popular with the nebkids like wow in real life....and just having a great time entirely straightforwardly and expecting as much but also being increasingly delighted and surprised and going "wow my aesthetique sensibilities piqued" and going "wow okay a journey" and like Gasp at details and loving the overall effects and little moments and shots and entire deal. did weep repeatedly, when you slosh, when you soggy....delighted a lot, along for the ride having fun for the whole way, so much abt [bummed 20somethings who are nevertheless very vivacious Feeling Things, including About feeling things] and the way that's given sooo much space, Saturating things even, maybe with light & color....i liked it a bunch, [aaaaaa], great time, thinking about feeling things and feeling about it and about thinking about it & so on & so forth too like man hang on a second. and the soundtrack. and the character designs Overall there did i mention?? so cute & fun. wobbly wavy shivery tapering having Flow in the lines / shapes of silhouettes in different ways just like flow in [fluid dynamics] of flame or water in different ways. there's a lot i can say but i just mostly did the backgrounds / color / lighting noncomprehensive slideshow lol. i was very engaged like oh wahoo yippee aaa then mfs let's go and keep going

#i'm big on like rainbow lot of color constant saturation....Yet; Atmosphere / skilled balance in application/usage #i don't have the restraint (or like full knowledge / experience lol) to Use it myself but i Love when i see it used lol. Very colorful here #and i had thoughts & feelings & a good time so that made it easier to be like oh whee AND look at that background. mf we sloshing #nonzero spoilers via largely contextless static images; many wide shots / environments; really doesn't matter much #but i guess if you're like ''i specifically want to know Nothing at All'' like well then there are images in there #like 65% me going ''and look at that purple. oh my God the green blue & blue green. Orange''#b/c like wrow....#pixar elemental #films to whisper to myself like omg. like me. right now #btw it's kind of long post inside there. but For Me; typically so lol #can't say shit in thirty tags!! esp when i had a great time i liked it i was like oh my god #can't even say that shit in regular text which is why i mostly talk about colorful backgrounds lmfao. and even Then!! and so on so forth #and hand over heart like omg when by yourself you're a bit too much; but together; you're a bit too much together ;w;#like wow just like me; me; & still me!!! and not caring about what's all ''too much'' like it's about the me & me actually thanks #(and ofc the premise / central metaphor/conflict there as is; vulnerable cultural identity that needs to be maintained but uh oh)#speaking of uh oh look who's underway in the tags!! i'm heading myself off now lmao. time for half past 3 am Night Sandwich

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wheelercore · 2 months

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Have you been to the Stranger Things Experience? I saw your recent post about Willelmike and color theory being wrong, but I've seen posts of people who went and it did seem like there was a red=El connection with the red group being her type of powers (and Vecna's ig)

No i havent! Not even quite sure what that is but i dont rlly follow those sorts of things 💀

My overexaggerated tone in those tags aside, im not going to necessarily say that those colors arent associated with those 3 characters or that its full on wrong. Its obvious that theres something going on there. I just think its very narrow minded to take what is the very intentional and dynamic costuming and color coding of all the characters and restrict it to three characters- and it doesnt make very much sense to me at all. I think rather el's, mike's, and will's narratives fall into what these 3 colors represent, not the other way around.

And if vecnas powers are also associated with red, then why is that?

If Karens s4 poster is red and purple, then why is that?

If Max spends most of her very character focused season in blue and yellow covering a red shirt, then why is that?

Whats the association behind stranger thing's sudden pivot to a more colorful aesthetic (besides it being the 80s) after s3 and the Rainbow Room in HNL? What is that telling us about Hawkins as a setting and possible revelations about why its seemingly special UD-wise?

Why ARE mindscapes red? Why was Henrys retelling of the UD yellow? Why is the UD Hawkins we see our characters explore blue?

If Virginia spends 2/3 of her scenes in s4 in pinks and blues then suddenly pivots to an orange gingham shirt with the revelation of how she always hated henry, what does that say about how she presented herself as a mother vs who she really is? Why is the creel dining wallpaper also strinkingly orange surrounded by pink and blue floral wallpaper entrance way? How does that relate to the wheeler's yellow dining room wallpaper also?

Why do they selectively constume female characters in pastel pinks and blues + whites (tammy thompson, often nancy in s1 and s2, angela no name, virginia, rose weaver robin, holly, etc)? What does this tell us about how these female characters present themselves and the constraints of female comformity in the 80s?

When Karen decided not to go through with the cheating, why did that scene start off with teds blue and yellow socks? Why is karens cheating outfit so strinkingly red with hints of blues and why does karen later wear a dress with green/yellow and remnants of red to the fair with ted and holly? Why are mike and ted consistently paralleled in blue shirts every season? Why is victor mostly in blues too?

Not targeting you, anon, specifically with these questions, i just think the color symbolism in ST is much more varied. Theres much more, im just hyperfocused on the Wheelers obviously.

This isnt to hate on anyone who enjoys the red el yellow will and blue mike analysis. Im mostly joking when i bitch about it (i can come off intense, i know). I have enjoyed a fair bit of it too! I just think its restrictive.

#misc #ask

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potatoesandsunshine · 5 months

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hi anna!! 7, 8, 11, 17, and of course, 9 i love to quote lines and i know u also love to do this and now is ur chance <3

hi abby!!!!

7. What’s a troupe you love to write?

i’m not really sure how to answer this one! i guess if i took a really broad view of it what i like writing about best is characters knowing they’re making bad choices and then still doing it (this is basically the whole point of she moves through moonbeams slowly and your skin, wearing thin which are probably my favorite two things i’ve published this year). it’s kinda easier to think about what i don’t have a lot of interest in writing—namely any ‘fix-it’ fics. i as a writer have moved beyond the urge to write fix-it fic. consequences are so much more fun.

8. What kind of document do you use to write? Microsoft Word? Google Docs? Straight in the AO3 text box?

google docs—and idk if you’ve seen that post going around lately about their suggestions/corrections getting worse but i agree with it. they are getting worse. but i simply will not pay for microsoft office

11. How many words do you have on AO3 (if you use that platform)

430,707! wow, that feels like a lot!!

17. Are there any writers and/or stories that you consider an influence?

not really specifically! i have a lot of stories and authors that i would recommend to other people, but not really ones i consider touchstones for me as a writer. i guess the closest thing lately has been discworld but it feels way pretentious to call that an influence? i’m just a really big fan? but reading these books is such a good reminder that writing can be funny.

9. What’s your favorite line(s) or scene(s) that you have written?

yeah i’m gonna do a bunch of these

“Astrid in Nicodranas, who drinks from a tea service that doesn’t have a single piece in common with itself, doesn’t think about the dignity of her station at all. She thinks about the price of fish at the market, about the cool breeze blowing over the water, about a cantrip for making letters weatherproof. And if she wants to wear a red hat with a wide brim that dangles with silver stars, paired with a cloak that’s pine green and a shirt that’s sky blue and pants that are patched at the knees and socks that are purple and orange respectively, well. She has no reason not to.” from feel the ground beneath your feet turn into the sky. i wrote this fic out of what a commenter correctly divined was a wish for astrid to have a “crazy bitch gone girl redemption arc moment”. she could outdress howls movingcastle if she wanted. and she should have everything she wants. i know i just talked about how much i love consequences and stuff but once in a while maybe a character should commit arson and murder and then run away to a seaside town and become The Wizard there. have we considered that.

“Raishan purrs with pleasure, smoke dripping lazily from her mouth. She turns her gaze to the focus and takes the speaker in: it’s one of the small things, with hair like flame and horns like a young wyrm’s first set. And it is draped in green: her color, poison and rot and sick smoke, the lovely gleam of her scales in the dark.” from you are coming down with me. raishan can always be 5% hornier and 10% more obsessive than she is in canon it is always correct for a dragon to be so.

“He sighs loudly, rising and stretching hugely, not even bothering to fix his robes as he walks past her. But as he goes he pauses, setting a hand on the back of her chair, close enough for her to feel the heat of him. She doesn’t look up—but she does tilt the datapad so she can catch his reflection.” from your skin, wearing thin. this story is about two people who hate each other so much but have so much history there’s never gonna be any escaping it. this marriage is a black hole and their good friend is going to be spaghettified in one of the most toxic threeways coruscant has ever seen. first time i wrote about star wars and it was just me arguing that they should make this relationship worse by adding another person (and i’m right). perrin is being honest for once in his life because it hurts mon more than lying would. she needs to see him through the reflection; it’s like a filter between herself and reality.

“It’s the kind of spell that only looks simple to amateurs. From Vivian’s lungs comes a falcon of night-blue feathers, the tips of which gleam with stars. It soars above the gathered guests, chirruping and crying and showing everyone—Vivian Kensington can make magic move, make it speak, make it beautiful.” from like flowers and blue skies. i have a pretty hard time with descriptions sometimes, and i’m really proud of this one! i feel like everything in this fic that had to do with Vivian and stars turned out well, but this is the point in the story where the magic felt most like magic to me.

“She’s a sort of placeholder for Keyleth, she thinks, which would be infuriating if it weren’t so very useful. Every minute Raishan spends with her gaze fixed on Cassandra’s cut throat is a minute she isn’t murdering everyone in Whitestone. But the distraction...

There’s a little bit of a whisper, a bug in her ear, that tremendous instinct that drives mortals to steal fire and challenge gods rising up and saying: well, why shouldn’t I do the worst possible thing?” from she moves through moonbeams slowly. there’s something to be said for sheer audacity.

#answering asks #ask game #ty!!!!!!!!!!! i had a GREAT time going through my own stuff for the quotes #i LOVE my writing <3

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night-unfurls-its-splendour · 3 years

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The Critique of Manners Part VI

~Or~

An Attempt at an Objective Review of Emma (2009)... VOLUME TWO

Haha, bitches you didn't think I could wait a whole week did you? Nah, not me. and guys, I added to it--all total, it's 9,023 words now. this half of the review is 5,214. HOW DO I HAVE SO MANY WORDS FOR THIS THING? I'm not gonna split it into a third part, because I don't need to for picture limit purposes, but buckle in.

If you didn't catch it, read part 1 here

Here it is, the stunning conclusion to my Emma Adaptation Review series (but this isn't really the end because I plan on doing some rankings later). In this half of my review of BBC'S Emma (2009) we'll discuss Costumes and all the very specific things that I love about this version, and some things I don't like, and some things I'm here to defend.

Let's dive in!

Costumes

Generally I liked these costumes pretty well. They were designed and facilitated by Rosalind Ebbutt, also known for her work on PBS’s Victoria and Vanity Fair (1998). And her work is, as her filmography would suggest, by turns, great and so-so.

These costumes are definitely in line with the adaptation’s general aesthetic: warm pinks and golds, with mints emeralds and blues to cool it off a little, are the order of the day. I really appreciate that every character has a definite color palette. The tradeoff is that this adaptation is the WORST EVER offender for the Jane Fairfax Blue™ trope.

Daywear

Emma’s daywear is full of warm and muted colors. Salmon and magenta are commonly seen. I love that most of Emma’s daywear consists of sleeveless or short-sleeved gowns with wide-sleeved linen blouses underneath. It’s not a commonly seen aesthetic so it feels light and fresh. My favorite of Emma’s daywear dresses is the pale yellow with purple floral print.

There’s one other in particular that I love.

Emma’s blue, sleeveless dress. I love this because of HOW OBVIOUSLY it’s a reference to this portrait of Charlotte, Princess of Wales. I mean...

I’M NOT IMAGINING THIS, RIGHT? WHY DOES NO ONE TALK ABOUT THIS? This is a REAL dress. They still have this exact gown of Princess Charlotte’s. It’s on display. It’s faded, but it’s the same dress.

Harriet has a fresh and innocent green, white and purple color scheme with healthy doses of peach and pink showing. I particularly like her white and purple floral print dress.

Mrs. Weston’s color palette varies, but leans heavily on tans and purples, which is very flattering, I must say, to Johdi May’s coloring and is really refreshing for Mrs. Weston who seems to get stuck in pinks and yellows a lot. No idea what’s going on with the laced-front dress though? This doesn’t quite read as authentic to me, but I do like that her first dress seems to be an apron-front.

I know I already said that this is the worst Jane Fairfax Blue™ offender, but guys I can’t stress it enough. WE ARE 5/5 ON DAYWEAR HERE. LOOK AT THAT. (Also of note, Jane 5 is one of Gwyneth Paltrow’s dresses from the '96 Emma.)

Mrs. Elton seems, at all times, to be wearing some form of pink, but I think I’m right in saying that the white day dress with the rose patterned bodice under the yellow and pink spencer is one of Jane’s dresses from P&P ’80. Can anyone confirm that? They did sneak in some Mrs. Elton Orange™ though, for Box Hill, and it’s worth noting that Mrs. Elton is the only lady who’s appropriately dressed on that occasion.

Isabella gets some understated day gowns that are very nice and also VERY “Jane Austen” in the sense that I feel like Jane Austen herself might have worn them.

Miss Bates, unfortunately is slapped with brown at just about every turn, but at least her “Nice” day outfit has some subtle leaf patterns, which is refreshing. Also Mrs. Goddard has a slappin’ cap. Love that.

Also, Harriet’s Grecian costume for the painting (upper right hand corner). What can I say, but that I love it. I love that it hints at the neoclassical influences on Regency fashion too. This is my favorite interpretation of the painting too.

Evening Wear

You know what I love about this version? It’s the first version of Emma where her gown for the Crown in Ball isn’t WHITE. I know, I know white was fashionable, but it’s just… it’s nice for not EVERY gown in a ball scene to be plain white friggin muslin and also, it’s not one she’s ever worn before, which is great.

Harriet does have only white evening gowns but that’s okay. My only complaint is that, specifically on her Crown Inn dress and in a lot of her costumes in general, the waistline seems just a little low. Hmm. I really like the pale blue pattern on her first evening dress though.

Mrs. Weston though. Woo. Look at those. She has a dark chartreuse gown with black lace trim that any other version would have put on Mrs. Elton, so you know from the dark tones that she’s a bitch. Not so with Emma '09, and that’s good. And her teal dinner number is a favorite of mine. I never paid much attention to her green and gold ball gown but it has some really beautiful, subtle leaf or maybe peacock feather patterns on it and I love that. My only problem is that there seem to be some fit issues. She’s got muffin top way too often. Her orange evening dress is a bit of a dud though, firstly, because it has long sleeves (which is an evening gown no-no) and the fabric slaps a bit too much of sari fabric for my tastes.

Jane, not only is put in blue with both of her evening gowns (although one is so pale it borders on white), ONE of them is another Emma ’96 repeat and not only that, it’s one of Jane Fairfax’s dresses in that film! Perhaps that’s enough to make it an homage, and I have to say, I think Laura Pyper wore it better.

Miss Bates only has one evening wear ensemble, but at least it’s cream and not brown.

Mrs. Elton’s gowns are surprisingly understated, and yet still seem to be annoyingly fussy and, what’s better? They’re not sickly green. One of them is actually a very pleasant mint.

Outerwear

Outerwear is roundly pretty great here. Emma’s primary choice of color for spencers is emerald/evergreen and one of them is Elizabeth’s Bennet’s from the 1995 P&P (though to be honest, I think Jennifer Ehle filled it out better.) I do love Mrs. Elton’s pink and yellow number with the slashed sleeves. Jane Fairfax’s only spencer is, you guessed it, blue, but her friend Miss Campbell has a rather fun mauve one.

There’s no shortage of pelisses and redingotes either. Harriet can be seen in one borrowed from Elinor Dashwood in the '08 S&S, Mrs. Weston has a rather fabulous purple one which she wears with the most delicious looking hat I’ve ever seen.

Emma has two. The first one is a great magenta number with military braiding (and I think she wears with it one of the brown slouch hats that Kate Beckinsale wore in the same role) and while the other pelisse is brown, they had the sense not to make her wear a hat with it that was also brown. Instead, they gave her a contrasting color. Good on ya, Rosalind!

Speaking of hats, I don't often single them out for commentary, but I want to here because… the hat authenticity is… kinda spotty. Let me show you.

Okay first of all, Emma may be a teenager in this pic on the upper left, but she is not dressed formally enough for her sister’s wedding (which is what’s going on in this scene) but at least her hat is pretty good. You can see the ribbons are on the inside of the hat here, which is as it should be… but she never wears this hat again. At any point in the series. Instead, we next see her in the one on the upper right and ye gads this is atrocious. WHY IS HER HAT NOT PINNED ON? IT’S SLIDING DOWN THE BACK OF HER HEAD. SOMONE FIX IT. PLEASE. But wait, there’s more. This kills me because these bottom two are so similar to the one she wore earlier (the correct one) but crappier looking. Jeez.

This is not a hat. It’s a peanut. You know who doesn’t have this problem? Harriet. She only has one sun hat but at least it’s correct.

I also wanna touch briefly on this ^ costume continuity issue.

WTF is this? She’s in the hall, her ribbon is contoured to the line of her dress; she goes into the drawing room and… it isn’t anymore? Wha happun?

I took more menswear screencaps for this version than any other version. And that’s because the men just have more outfits that are, y’know, different from each other.

Mr. Knightley is as understated as ever, but I wanna highlight the first pic there and why I love it. This is Knightley’s first appearance in the series and it’s the perfect establishing shot that shows the viewer everything they need to know about Emma and Knightley’s relationship and how it has always been. He sort of materializes, out of focus in the background, but Emma immediately knows he’s there. And to accentuate how much Knightley is part of her home and scenery, his clothes (similar shades of pale tan, white and minty green to the wall behind him) almost camouflage him and make him seem at one with the moulding.

He also has a rather lovely blue evening waistcoat that I WISH I could have gotten better shot of (although I do believe it’s also worn by Henry Crawford in the '07 Mansfield Park, so for further reading…)

Mr. Weston finally gets to wear clothes that aren’t all brown! He only has ONE brown outfit. He gets PATTERNED waistcoats, one of them a rather spiffing blue and brown striped number. And he wears TROUSERS! Because he’s a gentleman, and he’s not that old and trousers are worn by fashionable gentlemen in this period!

You know who else gets to wear trousers and at least one fun waistcoat? Mr. Woodhouse. Check out that lovely Sunday Best™ waistcoat. The red striped one. That’s delightful.

John Knightley’s evening wear intrigues me. That’s a double-breasted jacket, and you know I’m not totally sure that’s very authentic for evening-wear of this period, but it is different. Unfortunately he also has a flared top hat and that is definitely not on for this period.

One of my favorite things about this version is that they don’t dress Mr. Elton as a clergyman all the time. Yes, he may be the vicar, but he’s also allowed to dress like a fashionable, handsome young man. So I’m really happy that he gets to flex his fashion muscles here.

And speaking of fashionable young men, FINALLY frank gets to be COLORFUL and his trousers are even tight enough. Both he AND Elton are often seen wearing TWO waistcoats, as I would expect them to, and even though Frank’s a dandy, he knows that flashiness is gauche so his pops of color are bright, but not in your face. His green and red waistcoats are always worn under more muted colors, and I just love it.

The only problems are… what’s with the turned-down waistcoat collars? There’s no precedent for this, in fact I think it’s directly contradictory to the style at the time, and also it makes the cravats look a bit unruly.

A Critique of Manners

A lot has been said about the manners in this adaption. Like, the actual manners, body language and facial expressions, specifically vis-à-vis Romola Garai.

And, oh yeah, there’s a lot to pick at here, but first I’d like to talk about the facial expressions.

I'm mostly gonna be talking out of my ass here, but this is my take, so if anyone can make a better argument against my points, I am listening, because I don't really like talking out of my ass and I like to be informed. That said...

I tend to be lenient on the… exaggerated facial expressions because, something I’ve noticed reading Austen’s works through the last several months is that Austen is very descriptive when it comes to facial expressions and I just find it hard to believe that people in the Regency Era never made exaggerated expressions like this.

I’ve heard a lot about how Garai’s Emma is not dignified or lady-like. But let’s think about the context of Emma Woodhouse – she’s never been in society. She’s only had a governess to teach her, and we know Emma’s always been sort of averse to being told what she can and can’t do. Emma is the highest ranking woman in her social circle (barring Isabella’s occasional presence). Emma doesn’t have to be ladylike. At 21, she’s already her local Lady Catherine. She puts a lot of stock in her position in society but, as Mrs. Elton will be the first to hypocritically point out, she’s very poorly behaved. I'd be very curious to see what would happen if Emma went to London for the season. Probably, she'd be seen, comparatively, as a country bumpkin. Can you imagine how she might get on in a sea of accomplished young ladies? She can barely handle having ONE rival with any kind of grace.

Austen never describes bodily movements of the kind we’re looking at when we watch adaptations, so why not have Emma’s body-language be un-ladylike in the conventional sense of the time? I’m not saying this to excuse the absolutely inexcusable (Frank’s head in her lap, kneeling on the sofa backwards etc.), but while Emma’s mannerisms aren’t exactly ladylike for her time, they’re not overtly masculine either (which was one of my biggest problem with Death Comes to Pemberly for example.)

Yes, there’s an ideal for manners. But we know real people didn’t always follow those ideals. In dancing for example, many dancing guidebooks of the day were full of repeated instructions not to be too loud or rambunctious when dancing. What this tells us is that people were doing just that, and probably quite a bit, too. I think that, while taking societal strictures into account, we shouldn’t totally discount the idea that people in the Regency weren’t really that different from us, and young people especially.

Now I’ve already mentioned some of the inexcusable aspects of interaction in this adaptation and they’re so notorious at this point, I don’t think that I really need to go over them much here. Although I will say: is it ridiculous to have Frank Churchill put his head in Emma’s lap? Yes. Did it make me more viscerally uncomfortable with the situation on Box Hill than any other version? Yes.

I was like, 14 when I watched this the first time. This was an effective way to telegraph to young people like me that Emma is being extremely inappropriate here in a way that no other version really managed to, even when I watched them when I was older and understood the period more. I’m far more acquainted with Regency manners than I was then, but to be honest – if they had been accurate with the manners here, when I was 14 I would not have understood what the big deal was. Is there merit in circumventing historical accuracy in favor of reaching a less-informed but still-interested audience? Yes, I think so. There were three other versions of this, at that point, that did this scene with more or less pristine manners. Not every version has to follow the manners of the time to-the-letter to be good. That’s my feeling on the matter.

There are things that do really bother me though. Like the idea that Harriet Smith doesn’t know how to spoon soup, for instance. As I said in my review for the Miramax version, table manners are pretty basic, there’s no reason Mrs. Goddard wouldn’t have taught Harriet this. It does provide a good moment to show Emma tacitly coaching Harriet and showing the trajectory in which this relationship will go, but personally I don’t think it was necessary—there are plenty of other ways that could be done.

Also: kids at the dinner table? I know this is part of building the familial atmosphere but it really does annoy me, because apart from building the familial atmosphere (which they do very well and frequently in other ways) it really didn’t need to happen, and it doesn’t add anything.

The Heart of Highbury

So, as I’ve hinted at throughout this review, the bread and butter of this adaptation of Emma is emotion. This version goes hard and heavy on showingthe relationships – Emma’s relationships with Mrs. Weston, Mr. Knightley, her father, her sister, her brother-in-law, Miss Bates; Jane’s relationship with Frank; Frank’s relationship with his father; The John Knightleys’ home life – and it illustrates things that can be surmised from just reading the story, but really draws your attention to them in ways that other adaptations just don’t.

It does this from the very beginning with the prologue which explains in detail (not just in quick exposition between characters) how Jane and Frank were separated from their families at young ages. We know now, from psychological study, that being taken away from their primary caretakers during their formative years is one of the most psychologically traumatizing things for a child. This is deeply important context which is explained in detail by the narrator in 2-3 large pages (in my Barnes & Noble anthology) in the book.

In the featurette on the houses, they talk particularly about Hartfield and the Woodhouses being the heart of Highbury and how they particularly wanted it to feel homey because Hartfield is Emma’s house and they wanted the audience to feel why everyone is so drawn to it, and to Emma; to me that is what they did with the whole adaptation in microcosm.

I usually talk a bit about the dancing and I'm going to here as well because this is maybe the most special dance scene in any Austen for me. Of course I'm going to link to Tea with Cassiane as usual because she knows what she's talking about and I don't. But I wanna add some comments. She gives this a pretty low rating in spite of a generally favorable commentary because of two big oopsies, the circle dance formation is one, and the other is I believe, an issue with the style of dance not matching the tune in Emma's dance with Knightley. Throwing out any objective technical analysis though, this is my favorite Ball in any Austen and it all comes down to the cornerstone of this adaptation--emotion.

All of the songs and dances were original compositions and choreography made for this adaptation. So they're not period per se, but the tunes at least are representative of how Regency dance music should sound. These dances are upbeat, and lively and, damn they look like fun. Everyone is excited here and it makes me understand why dancing was such a big thing. Best of all that excitement adds to the emotional charge of the scene. "The Ship's Cook" is the most fast paced dance and I'm glad they made this the dance where Elton snubs Harriet because it really hits for me just what Harriet would be missing out on if Knightley wasn't so fucking aptly named. In all other versions you get the insult, but the dance that's taking place is usually a Baroque walker so it doesn't seem terribly like she's missing out on much. Here, this is like not getting picked for kickball-- not only is it a slight that no one wants you on their team, but you miss out on even playing the game. Harriet looks so lonely, and her feeling of being out of place rolls off of Louise Dylan so forcefully it chokes me up just thinking about it because I've been there, man. I feel this shit. *dabs eyes*. Ahem. So, yes, when Knightley engages her for the dance the excitement the viewer feels is that much more forceful and Harriet's exuberantly starting to jump in when the timing is off and Knightley gently pulling her back, it just hits me in the feels center, guys. (I wanna take a moment to give a shout out to every camp counselor who ever partnered with me for any game at summer camp.) Emma's reaction too, is gold. Her genuine relief at Knightley swooping in is one of those great reminders that Emma is Harriet's friend, and she does care about her.

Finally on the dancing front, I wanna talk about Emma's dance with Knightley and why I prefer it to the one in the 2020 version. I already talked about this a bit in the 2020 review, so I'm gonna try and keep it brief. That shouldn't be too hard, because I'm probably mostly going to repeat a lot of what I've already said about Emma and Knightley in this version as a whole.

The big thing everyone loves about the Crown Inn dance in the 2020 is the yearning, the sexual tension, the quivering touches etc. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE all of those things but... not all the time. Not in everything, and definitely not in Emma. Because Emma, to me, isn't about repressed sexuality or heated tension or seething passion. Emma and Knightley are the opposite of that, to me, really. One of my mutuals put it best, I think: "Emma and Knightley are more suited to stolen glances than hot touches."

In Part 1 I talked about how Knightley is Emma's comfort object. When Emma is out of sorts, Knightley re-centers her. It helps set up, and puts emphasis on, the crisis of the story in the last act--Emma not knowing what she has until [she thinks] she's lost it. Emma and Knightley are Friends to Lovers done as it should be. She is already so comfortable with him she doesn't even realize her own feelings. She just feels right with Knightley and that's what this dance is here to show you--a foreshadowing of matrimonial harmony.

The dance itself, of course, is always up to interpretation, because Austen never describes how it goes, just that Knightley asks Emma to dance and Knightley doesn't dance (barring charitable causes). If you prefer the sexual tension take, if that, to you is an improvement on Austen's story and gives you what you've always felt was missing, I'm glad that there is a version now that gives you what you've been looking for, but for me, I think the 09 approach hits closer their dynamic in the book.

Now do I do think the Emphasis on emotion maybe went a little too earnest in some places in this adaptation? Maybe. Just a little.

In my last review (1972) I went on a rather lengthy tirade about the scene where they turn Emma’s appeals to Harriet to exert herself and move on following Mr. Elton’s marriage into Emma guilting Harriet into thinking she’s a bad friend for being heartbroken and then throwing her into the situation most likely to rub salt in that particular wound.

In this version, while I love the emphasis they put on the stress Emma puts on her own guilt for being the reason for Harriet’s situation in the first place, I think it’s maybe a little too… much.

That’s the only way I can put it. I know I’ve just said that I think there should be a bit more expressiveness in period drama, but this doesn’t quite match the way I read it (Emma’s a bit less desperate in Austen’s prose. Very dedicated to helping Harriet feel better, but just a skosh more composed). I think she’s even crying in this scene.

While we’re here let’s go over to Box Hill ONE. MORE. TIME.

First of all, this is where this screenplay shines, in my opinion. This is the big turning point in the story and as such, should be a touchstone for the judgment of any adaptation. This sequence in the 2009 version is a perfect crystallization of everything I love about this version—namely that this is the version that, to me, most feels like someone read the book thoroughly, paid attention to what Austen was describing and then actually tried to convey it on screen. A lot of other versions sort of feel (to me), like the director glanced at the page and said “here’s what I want to convey in my version”. Insofar as making a piece of art goes, that’s good. Directors are artists as much as painters are and movies are their canvass, but it’s seldom that you find a director who honestly wants to hit as close to the author intent as possible and this Box Hill sequence makes me feel like that’s what Jim O’Hanlon was going for. I have the book open next to me as I write this and it’s shocking to me how minutely the atmosphere described in the book is conveyed here. Most of all, the fact that Emma’s insulting Miss Bates is not the only thing faux pas she makes here. Box Hill as a whole is a disaster, and it’s largely because of Frank.

“When they all sat down it was better; to [Emma’s] taste, a great deal better, for Frank Churchill grew talkative and gay, making her his first object. To amuse her, and to be agreeable in her eyes, seemed to be all that he cared for—and Emma, glad to be enlivened, and not sorry to be flattered, was gay and easy too, and gave him all the friendly encouragement, the admission to be gallant, which she had ever given in the first and most animating period of their acquaintance; but which now, in her own estimation, meant nothing, though in the judgment of most people looking on it must have had such an appearance as no English word but flirtation could very well describe. “Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse flirted excessively.” They were laying themselves open to that very phrase—and to having it sent off in a letter to Maple Grove by one lady, to Ireland by another. Not that Emma was gay and thoughtless from any real felicity; it was rather because she felt less happy than she expected. She laughed because she was disappointed…” --Emma, Chapter 43

Most other versions rush through Frank’s “excessive” flirting with Emma (Right in front of Jane) to get to “Three Things Very Dull Indeed” as fast as possible, and yes that’s the crowning horror of Box Hill, but there’s a very intricate setting here, too, and this version has the time to lay back and let it all unfold in the oppressive discomfort of an English summer day.

Even better than all of that though is Knightley confronting Emma after it all goes down. This treatment is neither plaintive, nor aggressive as it was in ‘96 and ‘97 respectively. I’ve already extolled the virtues of Johnny Flynn’s Box Hill rebuke, but for a change I’m not going to zero in on Miller’s performance which is, at least as good as Flynn’s, but on Romola Garai’s, which I find superior to Anya Taylor Joy’s. Specifically, her reaction once she’s alone.

ATJ in the 2020 version immediately breaks down sobbing and it’s hard for me to feel that she’s sobbing for “anger against herself, mortification, and deep concern” or that there’s much self-reflection going on there. To me it rather just feels like she’s crying because she got shouted at. The theatrics of it, to me, feel childish and self-centered.

I don’t feel that with Garai’s performance.

“She was vexed beyond what could have been expressed—almost beyond what she could conceal. Never had she felt so agitated, mortified, grieved, at any circumstance in her life. She was most forcibly struck . . . How could she have exposed herself to such ill opinion in anyone she valued! And how to suffer him to leave her without saying one word of gratitude, of concurrence, of common kindness!

Time did not compose her…” --Emma, Chapter 43

Of course one can make the case that Emma's reaction should be a bit childish because Emma is an immature character, but that's the thing--I can agree with you anywhere else in this story but this is Emma's maturing moment. This is her turning point as a character. It's where we should see her reactions shift from the same childish denial we're used to seeing when Knightley scolds her, because this is different. It's not the usual brushing off of big brother Knightley, this is a young woman reacting to an esteemed friend pointing out how abhorrently inappropriate she's been and her having to admit that to herself.

I didn't really want to drag comparisons to the 2020 film into this, not on this scale at least, but this just jumped out at me the last time I watched the new film and I have to express it somewhere.

What I see in Garai’s performance is desolation and mortification. That shocked tearfulness of knowing you’ve been justly reproached for wrongdoing, but being too frozen in a pretense of composure to actually cry about it until you’re quite sure that no one will see you. And especially when it’s someone you esteem rebuking you, the horror of them leaving before you can admit that they’re right. There’s so much more depth here, I think, and I can’t even quite express what it makes me feel.

The aspect of time not composing her is another thing that they decided to put stress on in this version. Emma looks fucked up in the following scenes. When she goes to see Miss Bates, she clearly either hasn’t slept or has slept very badly. I feel like this is maybe an anticlimactic conclusion to this section but I’m afraid I’m very close to reaching incoherence, so I’m just gonna leave it here.

My absolute favoritest thing about this version though—something that sets it apart from ALL other versions and even adaptations of other Austen stories—is the inclusion of the post-confession conversation.

This is something of a trope in Austen books but it very rarely finds its way into adaptations: confessions of love are out of the way, the hero and heroine settle into an easy an comfortable conversation, glowing with happiness as they explain and laugh over their actions and misinterpretations of each other’s choices. It happens in Pride and Prejudice, in Persuasion, and yes, in Emma. This is the only Austen adaptation, that I've seen, to include this kind of conversation in any kind of detail. The 1995 Pride and Prejudice alludes to the corresponding scene in it its source material, but the lines pulled from it get tossed into the confession scene itself and then it flies through to get to the obligatory wedding—a side effect of rushing through endings, a convention I’m rather tired of.

Emma (2009) takes its time with this, as with all other aspects of this adaptation. For a version that’s so full of energy, its pacing is extremely laid back and comfortable, without dragging. When you hear the gentle musical swell and Emma and Knightley have their kiss (this whole confession sequence is so sweet and wonderful in its own right), you expect that to be it. But no, we cut to them, the picture of contented happiness, sitting together on a bench overlooking Hartfield’s garden, just talking and enjoying being together, with no teasing, no pretense. If Jane Austen stories emphasize anything, it’s the importance of communication in relationships, and I think that’s maybe why she made it a point in almost every story to show her characters communicating their feelings in words, even after all the conflict has been resolved. This is my favorite scene in the whole series (In case it being my header image didn’t make that obvious.)

This is followed rather promptly by a cut to the next day, with Emma bursting in to Donwell in hysterics about how they can’t be married because she won’t leave her father alone.

This is one of those maybe over-the-top choices that a lot of people don’t like, but guys, it was so funny to me when I was fourteen and it still makes me laugh. It might seem outlandish, but to me it’s just the emphasis on personal relationships and emotion coming through again and it always makes me smile.

Final Thoughts

It’s hard for me to give a proper round up of my feelings for this section because I think I’ve poured just about all of my feelings on each aspect into its dedicated sections.

At the end of the day, the only thing that really disappoints me about this version is the number of missed opportunities there are here. One of my favorite parts of reading Austen is when I run across a line in dialogue or narrative that just… slaps. But they never make it into the adaptations. Emma is full of them and I just wish that Sandy Welch could have taken an opportunity to slip a few of them in.

In summary, I think this is a wonderful, heartfelt adaptation aimed at getting to the emotional heart of a story that often gets caught up in the Mean Girl-ness of its main character than the coming of age story that it is. It's one of my favorite period dramas because it's one of the few that really captures the spirit of the source material as it's always felt to me. There's really only two other period dramas that I esteem on the same level as this, and they're North & South (2004) and Jane Eyre (2011) and it's for the same reasons; because they impact me deeply on an emotional level--which is what art is supposed to do--because of how well it captures the essence of the story that I know and love.

So did I succeed in a more objective review of Emma 2009? I' feel like probably not. But I tried my best. It’s so hard to be objective about something that makes you as happy as this adaptation makes me.

Ribbon Rating: Most Agreeable (83 Ribbons)

Tone: 10

Casting: 9

Acting: 9

Scripting: 7

Pacing: 10

Cinematography: 7

Setting: 9

Costumes: 6

Music: 8

Book Accuracy: 8

#emma 2009 #emma woodhouse #mr. knightley #jane austen #jane austen emma #romola garai #jonny lee miller #period dramas #regency

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bittykimmy13 · 3 years

Text

The Candescent King (GT Story)

Premise: Sequel to "The Clandestine Queen". Andres returns to the hotel and is forced to confront the reality of Lorelei's life as a trinket.

Hi, I am now fully obsessed with Andres and Lorelei and I would die for them.

Warnings: dehumanization and threat of sexual assault

The print / trinket universe belongs to me and the lovely @little-miss-maggie�� / @marydublin5 <3 Y’all have her to thank for the ending scene! The story almost ended much differently :’)

(( Read more about the print and trinket universe here! ))

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ * ~ * ~ *~ *

He had certain expectations when he returned to the Onyx Citadel Hotel for the fourth time in two years. It was nightfall when he arrived. The lobby was decorated tastefully in black-and-white to honor the winter tournament. He headed straight for his suite rather than stop and interact with the other arriving players. As expected, the staff had already dropped off his belongings in the room.

However, she was not there.

He had known this day would come eventually, so why was there an involuntary chill running down his spine when he thought of the most obvious answer for her absence?

Moving mechanically, he went for the door. He had to be certain.

The elevator ride down, his thoughts were an odd mix of racing and frozen. He wasn't upset, he assured himself. He had no reason to be. They had both known this day would come, so why did it bother him so much? He battled his confusion as he made his way through the lobby. In the center, he saw some familiar tournament players gathered around a chessboard loaded with trinkets. He averted his eyes, striding for the front desk.

"May I help you, sir?" asked the woman behind the counter.

"Where is the trinket?"

Her friendly smile wavered with confusion. "I'm sorry?"

He sighed. "I don't recognize you. My name is Andres Soto. I have competed in the last three semi-annual tournaments. The staff knows to place the trinket known as Queenie in my room along with my luggage. But she is not there."

"Oh! Aren't you the reigning champion?" When he didn't respond, she pursed her lips and frowned in thought. "Queenie... The orange-haired gal? I apologize, sir, but she isn't available."

The chill in his spine should have dissipated now that he had an answer. But it stayed locked in place. "I see."

"Shall I put in a request at the bar to have another trinket sent to your room, Mr. Soto?"

"No." Andres started to pull away, but he supposed he owed it to Lorelei to at least ask. "Tell me what happened to her. A careless guest?"

The woman blinked, then gave a startled laugh. "She's not dead, Mr. Soto! She's just occupied."

Relief and frustration mingled in his gut. "Occupied? Why wasn't she sent to my room?"

"I'm terribly sorry. There was a massive change in management and employment in the past couple of months. I suppose whoever was making your... trinket arrangements must not have passed on the instructions. I'll be sure to let the bar and restaurant know that Queenie will be prioritized to you once she's available."

"You're going to make me wait," he deadpanned rather than asked. You know I'm the champion, and you're denying my request? He clenched his jaw to keep the comment in. It would only cause problems. His tone and expression, however, worked wonders.

Her voice became even more placating as she pointed across the lobby. "If you'd like to see her, she should be right over there," she said.

Andres shoved himself away from the front desk without another word and approached the small group gathered around the center board that had been set up. Two players, three eager observers. Plenty of room for him to see. He walked up with his hands in his pockets, eyeing the board with a sneer. He had made it a point to never be in the vicinity of a game of trinket chess, and it looked precisely the way he had imagined.

It was the most trinkets he had ever seen gathered so close together. Thirty-two were on the table, each of them scantily clothed in colors that reflected their team and designated piece. Red pawns. Yellow rooks. Green knights. Blue bishops. Purple royalty.

In no time at all, his eyes zeroed in on Lorelei. She was the queen, naturally, wearing sheer black lingerie with purple accents.

And she spotted him, too. He suspected she would be smart and pretend not to recognize him, but to his surprise, she threw a minuscule hand over her head and waved it enthusiastically. Her stance was unsteady, a carefree grin plastered on her face.

Drunk.

"Hey!" she called. "Tall, dark, and scary! Hi! I had a dream about you the other night!"

Very drunk.

The players and the small audience followed her gaze with confusion. Their eyes widened when they realized who had come to observe them. He gave the faintest nod of acknowledgment, ignoring Lorelei's whoops for attention.

"Gentlemen," he murmured.

"Soto." Theo Jackson, the man playing black, did not bother hiding the irk on his face. Andres couldn't blame him; coming in 2nd place twice in a row did that to a person. "Thought you'd decide this little tournament was below your rating by now. What are you still doing, coming back here?"

Andres shrugged. "I like to win. But don't mind me. Carry on."

They settled back into the game. He tried to watch with a neutral expression, but at least any visible disgust on his face was to be expected from him. Lorelei was a mess, nearly stumbling into the neighboring square every time the board was jostled by the players' movements. The bishop beside her kept grabbing her arm to steady her.

The trinkets were plucked up and moved like pieces. Each one of them looked either frightened or entirely checked-out. But when they were captured by the opposing side and taken off the board, their relief was visible. That was, except for the pieces Jackson captured. His hands had a tendency to wander to his captured pieces while he thought of his next move.

Being the queen, Lorelei was likely to be in the game for the long haul. Andres thought about walking away. The front desk woman had promised the trinket would be delivered to him later, but something kept him rooted there. It was a strange stab of betrayal, having gotten to know her and now seeing her debase herself. It wasn't her fault, but he had the urge to correct obscenity nonetheless. Especially considering how hell-bent she seemed on getting herself killed.

"Psst." She turned around and waved both hands up at Jackson. "Listen! You've got an opening right there, and you don't see it, do you? You're blowing it. Move me to A4, c'mon!"

"Shut the fuck up." Jackson forcefully turned her back around and flicked her between the shoulder blades, sending her onto her hands and knees.

The bishop gasped and leaned down to check if she was alright.

"No, don't help her," Jackson snapped. The bishop straightened immediately. "Little bitch needs to learn her place."

Lorelei's shoulders wracked and she caught her breath. Andres was a live wire of tension, trying to talk himself down from lunging in and taking her away. The tension eased as she stood up and rolled her shoulders as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile, the player on white looked remarkably nervous, staring at the board and obviously mapping out the plan Lorelei had offered.

Jackson went quiet, doing the same. Then he snorted, "Whaddaya know." He plucked up Lorelei and moved her to A6. The game was over in less than three moves after that.

Lorelei was the piece to catch the king in checkmate. She skipped over and looped her arm in his, raising her eyebrows at Jackson. "See? What did I tell you?"

"That's not right," the other player spat. "You had help!"

Jackson scoffed. "As if this was a real match. Besides, are you insinuating that a fucking trinket helped me? I was going to move her there anyway."

"Fuck you, I was about to have you cornered." The other player stood up and stormed off. He wouldn't last long in the tournament with a blatant temper like that.

"Who's next?" Jackson declared.

"I am," Andres said before anyone had time to take a breath.

He slid into the seat, glancing down as the pieces dutifully rearranged themselves where they belonged. Lorelei stumbled back to her spot and smiled right at him. At least she didn't wave or yell for him. He had seen her on a board plenty of times, facing him, but never like this. He could see the trinkets on his side casting wary glances up over their shoulders at him, trying to get a read on their current master. One split second of eye contact was all it took to make them face forward again.

Lorelei, in her idiotic state, turned to face Jackson and planted a hand on her hip. "I hope you're ready to get your ass whupped," she said.

His expression darkened, and Andres wouldn't have been surprised if she was broken in half right then and there. But Jackson slid a smirk to Andres. "Am I sensing some history here? Oh, Soto. You've always acted like some kind of moral paragon. No wonder you turn down every drink with a trinket. You've only got eyes for this little bite, huh?"

Andres regarded him coolly. "She was delivered to my room one night against my wishes and has plagued me ever since. Are we playing or not?"

"No one's stopping you from starting."

Sighing, Andres leaned forward and studied the untouched board. He knew Jackson's strategies well enough to put him away swiftly, but he would need a different approach this time. His hand automatically reached for the board, but he paused when he remembered these were not carved pieces of wood. Hiding a wince, he tapped one of the pawns on the back. The young man spun around and looked up, eyes wide under Andres' shadow.

"You, move to E4," Andres ordered.

The pawn swallowed hard. "I-I'm sorry, I-I don't know where—"

Gathering nonexistent patience, Andres tapped the board. "Move here. Two spaces forward."

The pawn hurried to obey, eyes trained down.

Despite his attempts to focus on the game itself, Andres couldn't help but wonder what each of the white pieces on his board had done to land their fate. Murderers, traitors, those who had no place in society. He glanced across the board at Lorelei, who was swaying to music that wasn't there. She perked up when they locked gazes, and he was almost saddened by the strange hope in her eyes. With her inhibitions decimated, it was all too clear how much she trusted him.

He glanced at the pieces on the board again and wondered, How many innocents?

His thoughts shattered when Jackson snatched up a pawn of his own without warning, seeming to savor the way the girl whimpered and squirmed in the tight pinch of his fingers.

"Settle down, darling," he crooned. "You're expendable. The game will be over for you soon." When he set her down on the board, she hugged her arms and trembled, tears streaking down her face.

Andres tore his eyes away from her. Nothing he could do.

He made foolish moves from then on, but they were perfectly calculated. His primary goal for once was not to win; he only wished to capture the queen. It was child's play to reach Lorelei, considering any player's strategy would focus on protecting the king. He ordered the pieces where to go, pointing and nudged if he needed to. When he captured Jackson's pieces, he made them walk to him rather than snatching them up.

Jackson smirked each time Andres refused to grab the trinkets, making a show of picking up his own pieces and taking an unreasonable amount of time to decide his move. He held them in his palm, toyed with him while deep in thought.

Finally, Andres captured Lorelei. He had to resist the urge to pluck her up. Jackson would undoubtedly notice the special treatment.

"Come over here," Andres said, beckoning her to move among the other pawns and the knight he had captured.

"Yessir." She pranced over to him, giving a clumsy twirl and making a rude gesture at Jackson so that only Andres could see it. She took a seat behind his side of the board, and he paid no mind to the triumphant smile she aimed up at him.

His next strategy was to make it a point to capture as many pieces as possible. Once he had a small crowd of black pieces on his side of the table, it was easy enough to discreetly drop a hand over Lorelei and sweep her away from the others. He moved her to his lap under the table. With people watching around him, slipping her into his pocket would be too noticeable. He let her go on his thigh, praying she wasn't foolishly drunk enough to fall off. He could feel her tiny weight, along with the slightest tremble. Not from fear, though—he had a feeling she was giggling to herself.

From then on, it was business as usual. He managed to corner Jackson and capture the king despite his seemingly sloppy plays at the beginning. With the queen gone, anyway, there was hardly a contest.

Huffing, Jackson glared at what remained of his chess pieces, as if they had anything to do with his loss. Then he turned that irked look to Andres. "You really shouldn't be here," Jackson said. "You know you're gonna clean up. Give someone else a chance, would you?"

"Maybe you should work on your strategies," Andres returned.

Before Jackson could snap back, someone from the group piped up, "Mr. Soto, can I play a round with you?"

He shook his head. "I'm going to my room to relax before the opening social." He cupped a hand around Lorelei so that she smoothly fell into his palm when he stood. He strode away, arm relaxed at his side, and his fist closely loosely.

He waited by the elevators until he could catch one alone. When the doors were sealed, he lifted his hand and unfurled his fingers enough to see her. Lorelei sat up and leaned back on her hands, a flirtatious smile on her lips that was entirely unlike her—at least when she was with him.

"Hello again," she slurred. "My hero."

"You're drunk," he said. "How disappointing. I was hoping we could play a few matches tonight." He shook his head, observing her unfocused eyes. "It would not be fair to you."

She waved a hand at him. "Ah, don't be so dramatic. I was on bar duty before the tournament players started arriving. I'm fine."

The elevator came to a stop. Lorelei scrambled to the edge of Andres' hand and vomited over the side. Some landed on his shoe. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and smiled sheepishly at his unimpressed expression.

"My bad," she said. "I swear I wasn't aiming there."

Breathing out sharply, he exited the elevator and headed for his suite. He took her straight to the lounger by the coffee table, laying out a pillow and setting her down on it.

"Sleep it off, Señorita Lorelei. I have a social I must attend. Will you be fine in three hours?"

"Probably." She stretched her arms over her head and laid asprawl. "And for the thousandth time, call me Lore."

Despite the state she was in, he imagined she wouldn't stay drunk for long. Trinkets rose back to soberness much quicker than natural people. Andres wasn't sure if it was an automatic side effect of their size or an intentional feature of their engineering to ensure they couldn't soothe themselves with inebriation for too long.

He stepped into the bedroom to change his shoes. As he headed back for the door to leave, she waved her hand to get his attention.

"No blanket?" She pouted. "I'm cold, you monster."

He rolled his eyes. "Shall I tuck you in and sing you a lullaby, too? You are demanding tonight."

"That's what you get for treating me like a person, Señor Andres. Now I've got all these sick and dangerous thoughts in my head about wanting to be comfortable."

"Well, stop it."

"No, sir. They're my sick and dangerous thoughts, and you can't take them away. Besides, you owe me."

He dug through one of his bags beside the coffee table until he found a silk handkerchief. "I saved you," he pointed out.

"Out of the kindness of your heart? Please. You owe me because you're going to get me in trouble, making me magically vanish like that. In fact, I'm sure there is sheer chaos downstairs over a kidnapped queen. They'll think I'm a runner."

"I'll tell the front desk I collected you." He braced his hands on either side of the cushion and leaned over her. "Would you like to write a script for me? Should I say you are too enchanting to resist, and I needed you all to myself tonight?" He dropped the handkerchief over her.

She squirmed under the fabric until she found her way out—which took twice as long as it should have. "Perfect, couldn't have scripted it better myself. Try to sound like you mean it, though." He snorted and started to pull away. "Wait!" she said. "Speaking of saving me. Can I tell you about the dream I had about you? Very quick."

He sighed. "What?"

"I dreamed..." She lowered her voice to a whisper, forcing him to lean closer. "That you stole me away from here. And we played chess day and night. And you still never beat me. It was lovely."

He didn't know how to feel or what to say. She had never been like this. Never said anything like this. And the way she looked at him... Her little eyes bright and naive over the edge of his handkerchief. He did not enjoy this drunken version of Lorelei Weaver. Not in the slightest.

"Sleep it off," he murmured again. "I want you ready to play when I get back." Then he made his escape.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ * ~ * ~ *~ *

The moment she started to come to, her face flushed. She couldn't remember everything with clarity, but she remembered enough to be embarrassed. Groaning low in her throat, she sat up and used the corner of the handkerchief to wipe the dry crust from the corner of her lips. Maybe if Andres wasn't too disgusted with her, she could wheedle a drop of mouthwash from him.

Footsteps thudded toward the room. She glanced at the clock on the wall. It had been roughly three hours since she passed out. Straightening her back, she smoothed her hair down and folded her hands on her lap. Although her head was clear, it ached.

"Oh, good," she said when Andres stalked into the room. "I thought I had only hallucinated seeing your grumpy face. How bad was the social? Did they make you..." She shuddered dramatically. "Mingle?"

"Well, you clearly feel better." He approached the lounger and didn't bother kneeling for her sake. He never did. More of the looming type. "What did you think you were doing, getting drunk like that?"

A faint, scalding smile perked on her lips. "I was forced to. The guest I was lucky enough to get saddled with likes his trinkets good and giddy. Is that fair enough for you?"

"Fair enough." His expression didn't change, other than something at the back of his eyes that was too far away to see. "It's good that you're fine now. They want to see you downstairs at the bar to make sure you have not escaped." His hand dove for her.

"Wait!" she cried. He paused, frowning. "I've had enough today. I'm not in the mood to be manhandled any more. Can't you... lay your hand down or something?"

"Why?"

"Easier on my ribs and my ego, believe it or not." She pressed her lips into a tight line and glowered straight up at him. "Doesn't seem like too much to ask for you to lay your damn hand down."

Looking like a kid forced to eat his vegetables, he dropped his hand beside her. She climbed on, and he swept her up not a moment after she settled. She grabbed at his fingers to keep from tumbling off. Already she missed the safety of the handkerchief, but the warmth of his skin was a fair substitute.

They didn't speak as he took her downstairs to the bar, where a few players were sipping on drinks, laughing, cutting up. She adopted her usual pose on her knees, shoulders back, eyes down. From her glances, she recognized a few of the players—both from her days as a human and from her evening of being their queen piece in the lobby.

"Here she is," Andres said to the bartender. "Satisfied?" He thrust her out in his open palm.

The bartender lurched back, looking from Lorelei to Andres, stammering. "I'll get the manager. Would you like a drink while you wait, Mr. Soto?"

"No."

As the bartender walked off, the man seated closest scoffed. "Well, that's a damn shame."

Theo Jackson. Lorelei kept her head turned away as if there was any hope that he might not recognize her.

Apparently tired of holding her, Andres lowered her to the bar counter. She nearly asked him to pluck her right back up, ribs and ego or not. She couldn't help but look at Jackson, going cold at the lust in his eyes as he tipped back his drink and reached for the other that had been laid out for him.

"What shame?" Andres asked boredly. She wanted to scream at him for indulging Jackson.

Jackson pointed at her with the hand that held his scotch. "Pretty little thing like that, and you don't even have a drink to put her in. I knew you swiped her. Figured you'd at least be putting her to good use."

"Mr. Soto." A woman interrupted, approaching from the other side of the bar and putting her hand out to shake. Andres had to step to the side to reach her. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Now, about the trinket. An employee is retrieving a case. You are welcome to enjoy your regular trinket during your stay, but it's required that she remain in the case when you're not around—"

"Yes, yes, I know the rules."

Despite that, she went on. Lorelei edged closer to where Andres had moved, feeling exposed. A second after the dreadful sensation came over her, a hand shot across the bar and snatched her up. Jackson covered her scream before she could let it loose, bringing her further down the bar, further from Andres. He hushed her gently, pinning her to the counter and keeping her muzzled. His fingers were cold from the chilled glass.

"What's the trouble, darling?" His voice was much sweeter now that he wasn't playing chess. "Soto doesn't know how to treat you right. And you've got my attention. Isn't that wasn't you wanted, pulling that cool little move during my game?" He brushed a fingertip along her side, controlling her with only one hand while the other lifted the drink to his lips for another sip. "You must get played with a lot at these tournaments to know the game so well."

While she squirmed and tried to buck her way free, he leaned down closer. The stench of whiskey wafted around her.

"Why don't we go up to my room, and I show you a thing or two in return?"

He reached under her lingerie. She bit the fingertip covering her mouth. It was barely anything, but he flinched all the same and allowed her to scream.

"Stop!" she yelped.

"What are you doing?" Andres barked.

A shadow descended upon them. The drink was swiped to the ground, Andres' hand crashing into it like a freight train. Glass shattered. The pressure of Jackson's hand vanished. Lorelei scrambled backward on her hands and rear, gasping for breath as she watched Andres and Jackson come to blows.

Jackson shoved Andres into the bar, making it rattle like an earthquake. Lorelei ducked down and covered her head, peeking over her knees as Andres landed a brutal punch to Jackson's stomach.

"Stop!" the manager screamed, backing away to the other side of the bar. "Stop now! Or we'll get security! You'll be arrested!"

Andres grabbed the front of Jackson's shirt and then shoved him away, seething.

Coughing, Jackson leaned on the bar. "What are you, a fucking sympathizer?" he spat, face contorting with disgust.

"Not in the slightest," Andres growled. "But she is mine."

"Mr. Soto," the manager said in a quavering voice. "You could be disqualified—"

"No," Jackson said. "No. I'm not pressing charges or reporting this or anything. I wanna face this fucker during the finals."

A very confused-looking hotel employee walked up holding a glass trinket case. Andres pulled away from the bar and snatched the case before reaching for Lorelei. There was no waiting for her to climb on this time. He closed her in a fist and stormed off. Even over the sound of his footsteps, Lorelei heard the manager offer Jackson a complimentary trinket for his troubles.

All the way to the room, Andres did not lift his fist from his side. She couldn't help but tremble, replaying the events of the fight over and over in her mind. These weren't the carefully calculated moves of a chess game; this was chaos. Utter chaos that she had never expected to manifest in him. She had gotten so used to his collected prowess on the board that she hadn't imagined what he could do in a physical fight.

He entered his suite and put her down on the lounger. She wasn't surprised at all when he immediately began setting up his chessboard on the coffee table. She would have asked him to do it if he hadn't.

"One match before bed," he said. "I need to rest before the first round tomorrow."

Lorelei stayed quiet, hugging her knees as she watched him arrange the pieces. With each clack of wood on the board, she pictured him driving his fists into Jackson. He glanced at her every few seconds, looking like he was working himself up to say something. Then he would think better of it.

Finally, when the board was ready, he spoke.

"Did I frighten you?" he asked without the smallest measure of apology.

"Does it matter?"

"Are you too distracted to play?"

"Never."

"Then it does not matter."

He walked around the coffee table to the lounger and reached for her. He stopped short and turned his hand over beside her, offering his palm instead. She chuckled mirthlessly and scooted over to climb on. "Well, look at that. He can be taught."

She took the white team and started the game. In no time, she felt at home among the light-up squares and smooth wooden pieces. There was no rust to shake off from her strategy. No uncertainty. Since his second visit, she had been given a reason to keep her chess mind sharp.

He, however, was the one who seemed distracted as she paced around the pieces. She was well on her way to beating him in less than twenty-five moves.

"Your move," she declared when his expression stayed distant for too long.

He blinked at her, then pushed a hand up his face with a heavy sigh. "Lorelei..."

"Lore."

"Lore. When I said you were mine..." He heaved another sigh. "I want to make something perfectly clear. I hope you don't really have any fanciful ideas about me taking you away from here. I will not put myself at risk like that."

She pursed her lips and pointed at the board. "Your move."

He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, then slumped forward with his elbows on his knees. "Listen to me, Lore. This is the last time you'll see me here. You understand?"

She did understand. She understood that this was the first time he had seen her life outside the safety that his visits provided. She understood that he had seen the aftermath of a regular afternoon on bar duty for her. She understood that he had seen what people like Jackson did when they got their hands on her. She understood that none of it was enough to make him take the risk for her.

"This tournament is far below your rating," she said, folding her hands behind her back and strolling along the edge of the board away from him. She peeked back over her shoulder. "I was surprised you showed up at all."

"I have you to thank for my improved rating. But you are correct. I have no business at this tournament anymore."

She turned around, wishing so badly that this didn't hurt the way it did. "Then why are you here?"

His eye contact did not waver. He straightened up and looked down at her. "Because you are the best I've played in my life. Perhaps the best I ever will play. I am determined to beat you before the tournament is over. I have lost sleep over you, Señorita Lorelei. I would like to sleep soundly again. Please don't ruin it with your fanciful thoughts."

"They're my fanciful thoughts, Señor Andres. And you can't take them away. They're all I have." She pointed at the board once more, determined to memorize every last turn of their final games together. "Your move."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ * ~ * ~ *~ *

The morning after the tournament finals, Lorelei awoke unsure of her surroundings. She wasn't in the hotel room. Not in the cylindrical container the staff supplied Andres. She should have awoken to the sound of housekeeping knocking at the door, but instead she heard a cacophony of voices.

Motion caught her attention. Swaying. Footsteps.

Realizing she was in a pocket, she all but shot to her feet to get a look at who was holding her. Had Andres left her outside the room for some random guest to sweep up and torment? That didn't seem like him, even if he had been particularly sulky during their last night together when he still failed to beat her.

Bracing herself, she peeked up from the coat.

A familiar face. His dark eyes shot from the phone in his hand to the fact poking out of his jacket. Andres shot her a sharp look, then typed away at his phone. He lowered it enough for her to see.

"Don't get excited. This is not a rescue, I'm stealing a private tutor."

She had only half a second to read it before his hand filled her vision. He pushed her back down, one finger pressing her belly as if to tell her stay. Then his hand withdrew, and his steps resumed. Her heart hammered as the sound of an airline announcement caught her ear.

Finally, he had made a move she did not predict.

#giant/tiny #gt #g/t #giant #tiny #gt writing #gt story #print universe #the candescent king #lorelei #andres #mywriting

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zebrabaker · 4 years

Text

Paris Stands Alone; Part 13

Part 12

This chapter’s art is...

As always, HUGE credits to @gajer-1226 , for her amazing art!

Marinette groaned from her spot on the couch. Mullo had come down from relaxing in the sunroom a while ago, and the trio was sprawled out on the couch, cuddling under a blanket and watching a news report on the current Mayoral elections. Monsieur D’Argencourt was running again, despite having lost so many times in a row. His opponents were a strict woman who had been on the city council for years and was very conservative, and a man who was far more liberal but had little experience. She’d need to keep an eye on things politically, things like this always led to stronger Akumas, be they the politicians themselves or angry citizens.

Right as she had begun to debate with herself whether or not she should go back to bed the whole house shook, and she heard screaming in the streets.

“Son of a bitch…let’s go.” She rolled off the couch with a heavy sigh. “What are we betting on this time?” She asked, stretching and rolling her neck gently.

“Oh! Animal!” Mullo squeaked, perking up. She and the Kwamis had invented a game of betting on what the Amoks would be, winner getting to pick what game they would play on the household game night. If there was a tie, they would do a coin toss.

“I imagine after this morning they’ll go for inanimate.” Tikki yawned. “Ready whenever you are, Marinette!”

“Spots on!” She cried, smirking when she saw a portal appear a few feet away from her, put of sight of the windows. Leaping through, she let loose a battle cry as the world sharply shifted.

X0X0X

The Amok was a rampaging, canine beast, with massive fangs and glowing red eyes, and a hissing, spitting cobra for a tail. It looked like a terrifying mix of a pit-bull and a Doberman pinscher. Nightmare had taken to the rooftops, opening a portal that Ladybug leaped through with a mighty cry. She flung her yoyo at a flagpole and yanked it tight, swinging towards the beast feet-first. She slammed it across the snout, making it whine and stumble. A figure dropped from another portal in the sky, this one swirling blue and white, the figure indistinguishable.

“No way!” Teacup squealed, bouncing in place.

“What is that?” Batman asked, drawing a batarang.

“That is someone we don’t see very often.” Cat Sidhe muttered.

“Who?” Wonder Woman asked, fidgeting with her lasso.

“Bunnyx, the wielder of the Rabbit Miraculous. Her Miracle is called Burrow, it allows her to transverse the timestream with ease. She only visits on important occasions, or if she needs to warn us away from something. She’s the one who sent Jade Turtle out on patrol the night he died saving that girl from the disgraced one. Let’s go say ‘hi’, everyone.” Yellow Jacket was smirking as she took off running for the edge of the building. Right as she reached the edge, she grabbed a dagger from her boot and flung it at the beast at the same time as she flung her trompo at the same flagpole Ladybug had swung from. The dagger nailed the beast (presumably an Amok) in the eye, and it howled in agony and rage. It thrashed and stomped it’s feet, which were the size of minivans. It managed to take the corner off a building, making the civilians evacuating along the sidewalks scream.

Snapping Turtle dove into action, drawing their shield in a fluid motion and shouting something lost beneath the sound of the monster’s howls. A green semi-opaque dome made of hexagons appeared, surrounding a small family and the hero in question from the rubble raining from above. The shield didn’t even flicker or waver, merely protecting the small family as Snapping Turtle scooped one of the three small children up and prepping the family to move.

Vixen, standing on the rooftop, drew her reedpipes from her belt, and slowly began to play a haunting tune. Cat Sidhe, picking up on some hidden signal, made a series of gestures with the hand that bore his ring, before uttering a word that made the Americans shudder. It was dark and dank, this feeling, like the paranoia of being out late at night with shadows looming and every sound inducing panic.

From the ring began to emerge a shadowy figure. It morphed itself slowly into a humanoid figure, dressed in all white, with features that seemed to whisper ‘not right, not human, predator!’ in the ears of all who saw it. It was the unnatural smoothness of it’s skin and features, the inverted colors, with white pupils and black irises, hair that started pure white and faded to dull purple. It seemed to be a doll, unmoving, until Cat Sidhe spoke.

“Distract the Amok for me.” He ordered, and the inhuman thing melted into a pool of shadows, before the puddle seemed to dart away towards the Amok.

“What was that?” Nightwing asked uneasily.

“That was his Grace’s secondary ability, Nyx. It creates an inverted clone of pure destruction energy. You don’t want to be around when it self-destructs, that’s for damn sure.” Roi Singe sighed. “I’ll stay back this time; I don’t want to throw you guys off.”

“Alright. I’m off. Vixen, you good?” The fox, who was still playing her pipes, which were emitting a light orange mist, nodded slowly. The mist was descending to the streets below, and Cat Sidhe went running towards the edge of the building, going into a diver’s position as he plummeted towards the street below. Barely twenty feet above the pavement, the cat hero drew his baton and extended it, slamming the end into the ground so hard that it dented the asphalt as he vaulted towards the Amok, which was now biting and snapping as Ladybug and Yellow Jacket darted around it’s head. There was another heroine, this one in blue and white with roller skates on her feet, moving too fast for anyone to properly see her.

The orange mist, which now filled the entire block, suddenly blew towards the Amok, whirling around it as if being held by a tornado. A glance at Vixen proved that her fingers were dancing over her pipes faster than ever, and Batman felt on edge. He’d never been a fan of magic.

The mist rapidly coalesced into a large, feline shape, similar to the Amok in it’s unnatural size. The feline let out a powerful yowl, and swiped with massive claws at the Amok. The Amok (Who Yellow Jacket insisted on calling ‘Fluffy) growled and pounced at the beast, only to be entangled in the wires of Ladybug and Yellow Jacket’s weapons as the illusion dissolved into mist once more. As the wires pulled taught around the Amok, Cat Sidhe’s Nyx reappeared before the beast, darting every which way and holding it’s attention. The beast, desperate in it’s rage to attack the tiny unnatural thing in front of it, thrashed and wriggled, trying to get itself lose, and only succeeded in tightening the wires. Slowly, Cat Sidhe snuck up behind the Amok, right hand raised in front of him as if he was trying to smack a fly. Right as the Amok snapped it’s jaws closed around the clone, Cat Sidhe slammed his hand into a thin red collar around Fido’s neck. The dog let out a startled, pained yelp, and was encased in a squirming mass of dark blue bubbles, which hissed and popped as the Amok shrank. Ladybug stood, waiting, and yanked on her yoyo string, which came zipping back into her palm. It wasn’t until the mass was barely any bigger than an American football that a peacock feather appeared that she acted, gently swinging her yoyo to catch it. When she had the feather secured, she flung her yoyo high into the air, crying out a string of words that felt like pure safety.

It was after the loveliness had faded that the final bubbles faded away, revealing a small, emaciated puppy, who’s bones showed through it’s skin, and it seemed to shiver as it looked up at all the heroes surrounding it. It snarled and snapped, cowering from the heroes around it.

“Wait, that was the eight-story tall monster that just did at least half a million in property damage?” Nightwing asked, walking up behind the Court members.

“This is why Hawkmoth and Mayura are so dangerous, they turn even the most innocuous, innocent little thing into something that can kill hundreds.” Vixen explained, landing behind them lightly, as if she hadn’t just jumped ten stories.

“What will happen to the poor thing?” Wonder Woman asked, watching as the puppy shied away from Ladybug’s hand as if expecting to be hit.

“Well, Fidel already has several dogs. They naturally love her, and Yellow Jacket has been talking about setting up a sanctuary for stray dogs. This one, however, seems to have developed a liking towards her Ladyship.” Roi Singe chuckled, watching as the small dog pressed it’s head into Ladybug’s palm.

“And lord only knows that my Melody could never turn away an animal in need.” Cat Sidhe said, approaching them casually. “Thanks for staying out of the way back there, it could have been bad if someone got hurt.”

“You’re in charge here.” Batman said gruffly.

“Still, we might have an issue. I have some stuff that needs me back home, so I was thinking one of my brothers could come over and help you guys out.”

“We’ll talk about it more tomorrow, for now we all need to split before the press starts getting pushy and Vixen, Bunnyx, and I transform back.” Ladybug said, holding the small dog in her arms. The canine was cuddled up close to her, soaking in her body heat. “Ready, love?” She asked Cat Sidhe, who nodded and sent a glare at a woman with pinkish hair who was coming their way, a camera crew behind her. “Bug out!” Ladybug said, winking to the cameras and flinging her yoyo (which should not be able to go that far) at a flagpole on a nearby building. Cat Sidhe began to extend his baton, before letting it fall, vaulting off down the street.

X0X0X

Nadya watched as Ladybug and Cat Sidhe left the scene, and the various Court members disappeared to the rooftops. This was perfect! And yet, right as she approached, Batman drew a grappling hook from his belt, fired at a gargoyle on a nearby building, and went flying off, and Wonder Woman barely waved to the camera before flying away. At least the remaining hero, a young man dressed in black and blue, took a moment to smile and give a dramatic bow before somehow climbing a brick wall. These heroes were ruining her poor ratings! Well, she still had that Ladyblogger girl’s number…

@krispydefendorpolice @ficsforthestars @multifandomscribette @legendaryneckjudgestudent @ash-amg-blog @bee-wrecker @dawnwave16 @the-supreme-ace-queen @politelyvicious @stonestridernerd @justmdj @stingrowl @damianette-is-life @miraculous786 @mjisntme @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @miraculousdisapointment @lesscooltodoroki @bb-basbusa @isabellemasen @sassydepression @imspectralboiii @spicybelladonna @moonystars14 @frostymoon11 @worlds-tiniest-spookiest-pastry @spartanxhunterx @fandoms-run-my-life @chocolateherringtacofan @imburningneon @fandomsaremylifeline @risingmoonyue @zotinha456

#my writing #psa #lukanette #black cat luka #Court of Miracles #miraculous DC crossover #maribat #ml salt

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

Hello From the Other Side (Post Endgame)

Uh yes, hello. Tissues are required for this one. Consider this the end credit scene to Endgame we were never given, so I did the Right Thing and wrote one anyway.

FIC MASTERLIST HERE

******************

It was white.

Everything was white and everything was cold and Tony had only a moment to think to himself, “I thought Heaven would be warmer” before the wind changed and puffed balmy against his skin until he was no longer shivering.

Then it was warm like a sunny day and the white fuzzed through at the edges and filled in the blanks with flowers and tall grass and in the distance was a tree that looked remarkably like the one Tony had climbed when Mama took him back to Italia to meet the Carbonell side of the family.

It was warm and then there were flowers and the colors were so vivid it nearly hurt his eyes. Purple like the socks Clint used to wear and brilliant green like the flash of Hulk’s eyes, red like Natasha’s hair and strong blue like Steve and molten gold of Thor’s armor and pink like the blooms in Pepper’s wedding bouquet and orange like the mismatched color of Morgan’s favorite stuffed animal and Tony was wiping tears from his face before he realized he was crying.

Maria’s favorite flowers had been blue irises, the ones that bloomed all over Tuscany in April and brought beautiful patches of home to the otherwise cold Stark mansion, and Tony ran his fingers idly through the delicate petals as he walked through the field heading for some point on the other side.

Absentmindedly, he realized he could only barely feel the flowers hit his fingers before they were gone and he thought maybe if he looked behind him there would be nothing there, but the thought of nothing made him sad so Tony just kept moving forward.

Eventually-- or maybe suddenly-- there was a cliff and Tony was looking out at the ocean that sort of looked like the view from the Malibu house but then wasn’t exactly right, and a voice shimmering into existence next to him said, “It’s Malibu from my memories, not yours. That’s why it doesn’t look the same.”

“...Natasha.”

She was beautiful, hair long and that gorgeous dark red it had been before the Avengers, before the Winter Soldier, before Thanos. There were no visible scars, none of the wrinkles and furrows that had settled into her forehead after the snap, none of the tears that seemed to always linger in her eyes after Clint’s family had been taken and the archer had been lost.

“Your memories?” he asked slowly, awkwardly because his voice sounded echo-y and quiet in the great open. “Really?”

Natasha did that half smile that was nothing more than a twist of her lips and in the next second they were in a kitchen at a table looking out a window but Tony couldn’t look out the glass because he was still staring at her.

“You have memories of the Malibu house?” Tony asked. “Why the Malibu house, and why am I in your memories or-- or in your heaven? Is that what this is? Heaven?”

“Tony.” Natasha sat with all the grace she’d had before, kicked out the opposite chair and inclined her head for him to take it, she did another one of those smiles but this time it was just miserable. “I wish I could say I’m happy to see you, but if you’re here it means--”

“I’m dead.” the words didn’t hurt like Tony thought they would. “I got the gauntlet and I snapped my fingers, erased Thanos and his army and every other bogey man I could think of. And now I’m-- now I’m dead.”

“Right.” she nudged the chair again and this time Tony sat, and once he sat Natasha reached out to clutch at his hand, solid and real and so sad he thought his heart would shatter. “How’s the pain?”

And then Tony realized he hurt clear down his side, down his ruined shoulder to his devastated hand and his veins crawled with the reminder of the gauntlets power coursing through them. “The pain is awful.” he said slowly, but then he curled his fingers into a fist and squeezed as hard as he could and just like that-- “Oh. It’s gone now.”

“Yeah.” Natasha touched her side and Tony remembered a story about a bullet wound, touched her heart and he thought about all the red in her ledger. “Yeah, that’s how it works around here.”

The kitchen filled in along the blank spaces and Tony blinked when he suddenly knew where he was. “This is Clint’s kitchen. The farmhouse.”

“It’s my version of heaven.” Natasha let go and reached for a can of warm beer that hadn’t been there a second before but materialized into her palm. “Clint’s kitchen, Laura’s terrible taste in beer, the kids and their messed up attempts to braid my hair.”

Her hair was suddenly atrocious, three different braids of differing skill level and none close to professional, tangles and crooked and falling into her eyes where the bangs hadn’t been combed away just right and she played idly with a garish barrette pinned above her ear, something pink and plasticky and definitely belonging to a little girl.

“Why--” Tony almost didn’t want to ask. “Why is this your heaven?”

“This is the only place I felt safe.” she murmured, then answered his unasked question with a sigh, “The Tower was safe, Tony. The compound was safe. But this is home and home is safe for my body and my heart. Laura called me sis and the kids called me Auntie and every morning Clint kissed my forehead right before he poured Laura her cup of coffee then bitched about being a servant while he poured coffee for me too. Home. Safe.”

Tony ached at the misery in her voice, at the tears filling her eyes and he looked away from it, looked away from the Black Widow grieving and looked out the window to see--

“Clint.” he whispered and Natasha bit off a quiet sob as the field out side the window shifted to show Clint with his family, hugging on Laura as the boys ran around shooting each other with Nerf Arrows and Lila focused on making grilled cheese for dinner.

“How are we seeing--”

Everything moved again, rippled and faded and then it was that raccoon shouting at Thor in the middle of their spaceship for eating all the sweet things, and Captain Quill trying his best to look as big as Thor and hilariously failing cos these days no one was bigger than Thor, not when his weight gain after the snap had transformed to sheer bulk and muscle now that he could sleep and eat and adventure again. The wild beard and long hair only made him look more massive and Tony covered his mouth with his hand when Mantis moved close and stuck a flower in the demi-gods locks while Gamora looked on and laughed.

And then it was Scott Lang playing Uno with Harley and Peter and so obviously cheating it was outright hilarious, and then again to Rhodey--- “Rhodey.” Tony choked out.-- patiently teaching Nebula how to fix a toaster, fire extinguisher at the ready just like it had been whenever the Colonel had overseen Tony’s early attempts at mechanical work.

“What is this?” Tony finally asked, and there was Sam flinging Steve’s shield over and over to get the toss and heft just right, and Bucky retrieving the disc with long suffering sighs before tossing it back. “What are we seeing?”

“This is the other side.” Natasha said simply. “We’re right here and they’re right there and we’re almost close enough to touch but we never can. We’re right here watching them go through life, it’s just the other side of a curtain, the other side of a veil.”

“It’s like watching TV but all the characters are people you used to know.” Tony whispered and she nodded. “I didn’t know it was like this.”

“I did.” She patted at his hand again when Pepper came out from the cabin with food for Morgan. The little girl was swinging around wildly with Bruce, laughing at his cautions to be careful and shrieking for higher faster further like Carol always said when they played and Pepper was trying to smile, but sorrow still creased at her brow and Tony put a hand to his heart as it broke all over again.

“She’s okay.” Natasha murmured. “Tony, they’re okay, see? They’re right there.”

“This is why you were okay with going.” Tony couldn’t tear his eyes away from Morgan’s smile and the picture froze for a few seconds so he could just look. “At Vormir, I mean. You were okay with going because you knew you’d still be able to see everyone.”

“It’s one of the reasons I was okay with going.” Natasha allowed. “You don’t live like I do and not die a few times. It was easier knowing I can sit here and watch them every day, or I can go for a walk and stay beside them as they live. I’m always right here just like they are always right there.”

“...I miss them.” Tony whispered and Natasha whispered back, “I miss them too.”

“Can I--” he cleared his throat a few times. “I know this is your heaven, but could I just sit here with you for a little while?”

“Yeah, Tony.” Natasha’s smile was both hopeful and relieved. “Please do.”

*************

It was odd that heaven would be a house, but a house it was.

Clint’s kitchen and a common area that looked like the compound where they’d had parties and movie nights and even the occasional team dinner. A bedroom that was Tony and Pepper’s so he could lie down next to her at night and watch her and Morgan sleep safe and sound, a yard that stretched for miles so they could always see the next adventure their loved ones were having. The lake from outside the cabin, the lab from the Stark Tower, a ballet studio and a rec room that looked like the one where Rhodey had taught Tony to hustle pool.

Natasha stayed young and beautiful, her hair long and braided, her clothing comfy and a far cry from the spandex and leather she’d poured herself into to fight. Tony stayed a little silver, a little older because that’s when he’d been happiest with Morgan and Pepper but it was nice to not ache anymore, to not have decades of rough living and eleven years as Iron Man making every breath a struggle.

He watched Nebula blow out candles at her very first birthday party ever, smiled every time Happy showed up to kidnap Morgan away for a weekly cheeseburger date and one night when Bucky fell asleep on Sam’s couch, Tony leaned in and whispered through the veil, “I forgive you. It wasn’t your fault but I forgive you anyway and I’m sorry I never had the chance to say it.” and the next day the soldier was lighter in his step and easier with his smiles.

Natasha cried when Laura announced a surprise pregnancy, and cried harder when Clint held the little girl close and named her Tasha, whispered that he wished Nat was there to see and Laura said, “I think she knows, honey.”

They both laughed until they were sick watching Peter fumble his way through high school shenanigans and they both watched somberly as the former Captain America was laid to rest in a small plot of earth next to Tony and Natasha’s headstones.

And then one day, one day the door to their hodge-podge home of heaven opened and Steve Rogers walked right through.

Not Captain America.

Steve Rogers, barely taller than Natasha and not even breaking a hundred pounds. His back was straight though his shoulders were thin, his blue eyes were sparkling and stubborn as ever and Tony didn’t even hesitate to cross the room and grab Steve up in a hug.

“Didn’t think you’d recognize me.” Steve said hoarsely, and his voice was almost too big for his frame but Tony only nodded and said, “I’d recognize you anywhere, Spangles.” and Steve looked like maybe he wanted to cry.

“Where’s the muscles?” Natasha asked after she got her own hug and Steve slumped into a chair looking tiny and small and tired, “I gave up my super soldier serum to save Bucky back in our original timeline.”

“I saw you dance with Peggy.” she countered, and when Tony frowned the window outside changed to show Steve slow dancing with Margaret Carter, holding her close and smiling down into her eyes. “You were still big then.”

“Oh I got my dance.” Steve watched the picture with a sad sort of smile. “Got my moment and it was real nice but Bucky was my first love, maybe the only person I ever loved and I couldn’t save him in this time line so I went back and saved him in that one. A soul for a soul, my Captain America to pull him back from the train.”

“The ring.” Tony motioned to the gold band on Steve’s fingers, turned dark from age but having obviously never left his hand. “It’s Bucky’s.”

“Couldn’t wear our rings out in public for a long time, but it was worth it in the end.” The walls of the kitchen changed a little to resemble one of those old apartments in Brooklyn, the ones with leaky pipes and floors that groaned under every step and Steve’s breath caught when the window changed again. Now it was Sam putting down the shield and marching up to Bucky and yanking him in by that black and gold arm to crush a kiss to his mouth and when they parted, Bucky was grinning and Steve covered his mouth with his hand and made a quiet, broken sort of noise.

“...I did the right thing.” he asked shakily. “Didn’t I? My Bucky was safe and this Bucky is safe and I-- I did the right thing giving up the shield?”

“Yeah, Steve.” Tony answered quietly. “Yeah, I think you did.”

“Can I stay here for a little while?” the blond asked then. “This looks like Tasha’s heaven and maybe your heaven, but can I stay here anyway?”

“Stay as long as you want.” Natasha answered for both of them, and held out her hand for Steve. “Come on, I’ll show you around. Tony, you coming?”

“Give me a second.” Tony waved them off and once Natasha and Steve had stepped outside into whatever their heaven was changing to be, he leaned in close at the window and reached out like his fingers could brush away Pepper’s hair from her shoulder.

“Miss you.” he whispered. “I miss you guys so much, but I’m right here. I’m just right here on the other side.”

And in the picture, Pepper turned like she felt him, smiled like he heard him and reached up to hold onto the necklace he’d made for her, the one that held the pieces of shrapnel and his entire heart.

“Right here on the other side.” he said again, and then with a wistful smile, “Tell my baby hello.”

********************

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE FIC!

********************

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @1fuckingshitup69 @agentlokii @livewire28 @tulipsnbigcats @kimstark @alex-stark-rogers @bibbarnes @heeeyitskay @goindownshipping

#ncts fics #tony stark #natasha romanov #steve rogers #avengers: endgame #post endgame

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too-weird-for-main · 4 years

Text

Humanized Symbabies comic stuff:

-WEAPONS:

Carnage has a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire with nails poking out of it

Riot has a big fucking hammer that just so happens to have “BIG FUCKING HAMMER”written on the handle

Phage has brass knuckles except they’re like... incredibly big spikes

Scream has a dagger strapped to her thigh and throwing knives

Lasher has a cool cyber goth themed whip I’m really proud of it actually

Agony... I really don’t know. A handgun, probably. Mostly she’s the snark of the family. She takes after her dad, kills people with words.

And Sleeper is LITERALLY A BABBY HE HAS NO WEAPON

DESIGNS/VIBES:

Cause I’m really indecisive and I tried WAY TOO HARD on Carnage and Riot and the rest look bad in comparison so I’m not putting the pictures up yet

Carnage is a sexy goth gf. She wears a crop top and high waisted pants cause that’s my favorite thing ever. And a cropped biker jacket. And REALLY BIG STOMPY BOOTS and she has a big ponytail and it’s dark brown with bright red highlights. They all have highlights of their theme colors.

Riot is SO GAY AND SO PUNK. I literally drew them wearing a sew-through plunging v neck top under a denim vest covered in pins and patches and those fuckin hot topic pants with all the random like hang-y straps and shit all over them. And big stompy boots. And the pants have more patches on them. And some fishnet is thrown in there too.and like five necklaces. And their hair is like black at the roots and it fades to silver and it’s wavy and shoulder length.

Phage is So scene emo. Blue hair with orange stripes. Emo bangs. Darkest skintone of the kiddos(with Vampire Bitch Carnage being lightest) cause I have a Big Thing for characters with brown skin and blue hair and PHAGE’S THEME COLOR SHPULD HAVE BEEN BLUE THE MAC N CHEESE BULLSHIT NEEDS TO G O. But anyway they wear an oversized hoodie and stupid too long flared jeans and converse and they look like they just rolled out of a dumpster.

Scream is... yellow. Looooong blonde hair and she wears stuff that’s like, pretty but comfortable and I drew her wearing like... a mustard yellow tank top dress with some leggings and riding boots. She’s the only prep in this family of goths.

Agony is the Goth Chick with the Bobbed Hair with Purple Highlights and Glasses. Does she needs glasses? Is it just for the drama???? Who knows.

Lasher is this horrific mix of a Gym Dude and cyber goth???? Like he wears a muscle tank...... but it has like green glitchy stuff on it, and he has on goth boots and those headphones with the ears??? And he has stupid hair. Like an ultra mullet. His ponytail goes to his thighs but you wouldn’t even notice he has it cause so much of his hair is just cut in random lengths. And there’s neon green stripes in it.

Sleeper is literally a baby astronaut. His hair is brown and curly with like 2 colors of green striped in it. I don’t know his eye color cause I haven’t drawn him with his eyes open. It’s probably gonna be green.

HOBBIES/JOBS/ENRICHMENT ACTIVITIES OTHER THAN MURDER:

Scream is a singer! She can’t perform live at large venues cause some of the Symbiote stuff still applies so big ol speakers are a no-no but with the use of holograms one day she might. But for now she just vents via music about how she keeps dating shitty women

Carnage mostly just follows Cletus around... her life is focused around being the actual problem child of the Brock family so it’s either being with her boyfriend or talking about him.

Lasher is a Gamer Bro. Probably does YouTube or something. Blood is 40% Mountain Dew at this point.

Phage is an emo artist, does some 3D modeling and stuff, is trying to help Scream set up hologram concerts

Agony is a writer and is trying to follow Eddie’s legacy but really her talents lie in poetry. Wait fuck. I made her that one Pokémon character. Fuck. She’s just Shauntal! Fuck! Oh well.

Riot... their daily activities include 1. Making a scene at breakfast. 2. Trying to start a fight 3. Running off to go tell their shitty boyfriend about how much they hate their family for not letting them goad them into fights. 4. Actually get into a fight with Eddie cause NO DATING RICH BOYS IN THIS HOUSE! YOU CANT BE PUNK AND DATE A RICH BOY THATS NOT HOW IT WORKS RIOT”but dad I love him!” FO YOU LOVE HIM OR DO YOU LOVE HOW HE’LL BRING YOU HOMELESS PEOPLE TO EAT???????

Sleeper is currently learning to count to ten and say his colors! His favorite words are “no” “food”, butchered versions of his siblings names: “Cah-age!” “Asha!” “Tage!” “Aggy!” “Sceem!” “I-iot!” (Is he saying Riot? Or Idiot? The world may never know) and of course... Mama (Eddie is Mama, unfortunately the others have picked up on it and have started calling him mom just to annoy him)

#symbabies comic

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sawyersick · 5 years

Note

1 through 69 because you gotta twin with me

OMG ASDFGHJKL

aight here goes bitchez

1. are you religious?

nahh but my parents sent me to church camp when I was in elementary school??? For the cheap childcare I guess???

2. what animal do you think you’re most like?

I haven’t thought about this much but I think a field mouse!!

3. how do you take your coffee?

never……………………… I hate coffee

4. how old were you when you had your first kiss?

my mom’s bosses son forced himself on me when we were 6 lol so I don’t count that……….. so 15 i guess (according to my friend, if there’s no hormones it doesn’t count lol)

5. museum date or aquarium date?

AQUARIUM AQUARIUM AQUARIUM

6. do you have any tattoos or piercings? do you want more?

Just my ears are pierced and I have a whale (badly) tattooed on my hip I’ll post pix if you want but its pretty uggo

I want another whale on the other side so I’ll be symmetrical and a triangle hand tat….. maybe an eyeball tat (a tattoo of an eyeball…. not one on my eye lol)? I’m not really interested in anymore piercings tho

7. favorite fruits?

strawberries!!!

8. favorite vegetables?

when I was 12 I ate so many carrots my skin turned orange and my mom thought I had jaundice

also I heckin love mushrooms

9. i’ll only date you if _____. (fill in the blank)

I’ll only date you if you treat me with respect :(

10. do you cry a lot?

yeah lol at least twice a month minimum

11. who are your closest friends?

I don’t really have any? I’ve felt distant from my irl friends lately so idk probably just demo

12. have you ever been a part of a protest or a march?

I did the walk out for gun violence

13. do you play any video games?

helllllls yeah but I usually only play 3/ds

14. did you ever have an emo or scene phase?

yes and I think I’m still in it rip

15. what color is most of your wardrobe?

I think I wear a lot of blue! and black and white too i guess…… I’m trying to add more reds tho

16. what do you like to do for fun?

I bake and sew and draw! and listen to music

17. what is your biggest fear?

body horror tw for this one rip

being abandoned, being forced to do horrifically gross/unclean stuff, getting my eyes gouged out, getting the bones in my hands broken, getting acid poured on my face, the people around me dying, being forced to eat live slugs, getting my skin peeled off with a knife

18. name a subject you know a lot about.

whales/the ocean in general and baking!! and the band Liily

19. favorite fictional characters?

hm idk? Link and Zelda from LoZ, Clover and Snake and Aoi from 999, rhyme from TWEWY, Maka and Soul from Soul Eater, Storm from the Xmen, Ariel from the Little Mermaid, Chun Li, the Kagamines, Rilakkuma

idk I just thought about characters I have merch for

20. do you read a lot? what are your favorite books?

I used to??? Haven’t had the time for it in a while though and I’ve been reading a lot of how-to books as of late….. I really liked the Legend trilogy though

21. how would you describe your style?

art style and fashion style would both be classified as “cute but tries to be edgy” I think

22. did you have a favorite stuffed animal when you were little? do you still own it?

Yes!! a pastel elephant with a rattle in it named Elephant (very creative I know) He’s in my stuff somewhere now and this question reminded me to go find him again

23. what’s something most people love that you hate?

hmmm…. sports? mustard? airpods???? idk

24. do you think you’re a good singer?

actually yes? I wanna be in a band but I’m lowkey afraid of singing in front of people I know but have no problem doing it in front of an audience of strangers hmu if you’re in the SF bay area I’ve written 6 punk songs

25. who do you live with?

my parents and cat

26. favorite desserts?

ice cream, anything with chocolate or whipped cream, creme brulee, lemon tarts

I’m not too picky though lol

27. what is the best decision you’ve made in your life so far?

realizing that I can actually do mostly whatever I want and most things have fewer consequences than I think

also cutting people out of my life that emotionally exhaust me

28. favorite makeup brands?

uhhhh whatever’s cheap and doesn’t make my eyes burn ig urban decay is good when I can afford it

29. favorite clothing stores/brands?

Goodwill??? I used to shop at f21 but I try not to anymore

30. what was your first job?

working at a lake teaching windsurfing and sailing and I still work there

31. do you take a lot of naps?

n o I absolutely h a t e taking naps and try to avoid them

32. what is your favorite part about your body?

hmm I have pretty good hair i think and sometimes my eyes? I have huge (genetic) eyebags tho which gets me down

33. are you more dominant or more submissive?

In day to day life I guess I’m more dominant??? like I make decisions when nobody else wants to :0 also idk intimately since iM aN aDuLt vIrGiN and pretty sex repulsed but probably sub

34. are you more outgoing or more shy?

outgoing but sometimes it makes me annoying

35. how tall are you?

short…………………………. 4′8/143 cm

36. what is your body type?

uhh hourglass????? maybe pear I got them Thunder Thighs according to the guy who got kicked out of drama club for peeping in the girls changing room

37. favorite flower?

calendula, sunflowers, lavender and dianthus!!

38. favorite planet?

Neptune??????????????????

39. what do you want to dress up as for halloween this year?

I wanna be the bride of frankentstein but in a shiro lolita coordinate to make her look ~fancy~ or the Nancy part of Sid and Nancy if I’m in a relationship by that time

40. do you prefer to date people the same age as you, younger, or older?

Ideally the same age and I’m wary of dating anyone more than 2 years younger or older than me but I’m more willing to date older than younger

41. describe the person you’re in love with/have a crush on in great detail.

yall know who it is already but

in a band, dark hair, kinda tall, very fashionable, coincidentally happens to be the same racial mix as me, good at art, very humble, really sweet, lives in SoCal, has a hand tattoo of milk and “aye yah” on his arm, paints his nails orange, wears a lot of rings, gets freckles in the summer, prefers vanilla over chocolate, ties his shoes the cool way

42. who is your biggest inspiration?

idk at the moment? I like to draw from many inspirations

43. do you have any kinks?

???????????????????????????????????

44. do you own any pets?

one (1) very loving cat

45. which celebrity do people say you look the most like?

……………………….. myself

I literally had to google mixed race celebrities and STILL none look like me lol

46. do you like sports?

not really except I weirdly like baseball

47. have you ever seen a broadway musical?

Yes!! I won tickets to On Your Feet and Charlie and The Chocolate Factory

I also won Hamilton tickets but saw it in SF yall should download the app

48. what is your favorite kind of food?

noodles!!

49. would you rather be a fairy or a mermaid?

MERMAID actually I have a mermaid tail too so

50. what is your instagram?

@wishwhale :)

51. glossy lips or matte lips?

glossy by default because I have chronically dry skin/lips so matte lips are sooooooooooooooo uncomfy but it looks good on other people lol

52. do you like cherry, grape, blue raspberry, watermelon, or green apple jolly ranchers the best?

grape because im weird

53. what are your best personality traits?

I’d like to think that I’m kind and sometimes funny

54. what is your ethnicity?

asian/white

55. what different hair colors have you had?

brown and brown with pink that was supposed to be purple

56. favorite disney princess?

Ariel! bc mermaid

57. favorite album of 2017?

Humanz by Gorillaz or Deep Dream by Daddy Issues I guess

I was weirdly obsessed with Feel Your Feelings Fool when it came out but I’m not really into it anymore though

58. have you ever had braces?

nah

59. favorite holiday?

Halloween! Because dressing up is fun

60. post a selfie.

how do I make this smaller anyways I don’t normally wear this much makeup but I’m going to a small show tonight

61. are you a good swimmer?

Yes!! I swim once a week at my local pool

62. do you wear jewelry?

I used to wear a lot………. like multiple necklaces and bracelets and rings daily but now I wear my ring every day and a necklace/earrings if I remember

63. can you play any instruments?

I’m learning guitar!!

64. do you have any siblings?

short answer is no but you can dm me for the long answer

65. are your grandparents still alive? how old are they?

just my maternal grandmother and she is almost 90! My paternal grandmother lived to 102 so I’m hoping for those good genes though (I think she would have lived longer because my family suspects elder abuse by my weird aunt)

66. who knows the most about you?

hmm probably Demo or Emily

67. are you a more quiet person or do you talk a lot?

I! Never! Shut! Up!

68. what advice would you give to your 13 year old self?

shut the fuck up you stupid bitch you arent cool

69. how many pillows do you sleep on?

two

#ask #ask meme #my face #shut up sawyer #long post #loooooooooooooooong post

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poorquentyn · 7 years

Note

Considering Spielberg is your (second?) favorite director, do you have any kind of ranking of his filmography? (If so, I hope you give Empire of the Sun the high marks it deserves. It's the quintessential Spielberg film! A boy's own adventure story that gets eaten alive by a war drama!)

*rubs hands together*

Ok, so, only ones where he was in the director’s chair; none of even those producer’s credits where you can feel his indelible stamp on the final product, so no Goonies, Gremlins, Poltergeist, or Back to the Future. Even then, I’m leaving out a lot, so honorable mention to Lincoln, Schindler’s List, Saving Private Ryan, Catch Me if You Can, War of the Worlds, The Color Purple, Bridge of Spies, the two worthwhile Indy sequels…

10. Jurassic Park

Start with the gaze upon himself: Jurassic Park as a $63 million self-portrait released on the exact tipping point of his career. John Hammond and Steven Spielberg’s miracles are one and the same: one brings dinosaurs back, the other convinces us they’re real. One uses DNA, the other uses CGI. When the characters stare in wonder, they’re meant to mirror our own at the imagery; when Jeff Goldblum mutters “that crazy son of a bitch actually did it,” he’s speaking for an entire industry once again forced to up its game by a Spielberg Miracle.

Our protagonist, however, is shitty with computers, so Alan Grant terrifies a child the old fashioned Jaws way: with a prop (a raptor claw) and his imagination. Hammond whisks him away from that to a world where one can press a button and make yourself appear on screen, mirroring how Spielberg has done the same with Hammond as his craft has evolved from malfunctioning sharks to CG velociraptors. The heart of the film comes when this giddy wonder in the possibilities of “we have the technology” is soured and our author avatar is left disillusioned and afraid, eating ice cream in a room full of merch he’ll never sell (but Spielberg will), telling Laura Dern about how he started off with a flea circus. That, right there, is a metaphor for moviemaking, and specifically Spielberg’s brand of it: pulling invisible strings to make us think that impossible things are real, to make belief believable.

Above all, Jurassic Park is afraid for the kids. Another perfect metaphor for the meta-tastic whole comes when the T-Rex crashes down through the car roof, only glass separating him from devouring the children; their hands are desperately keeping the monster behind the rectangular transparent plane, on the screen, even as Spielberg/Hammond’s tech is so real it threatens to burst right through. “He left us!” one kid wails about the character representing the studio weasels. “But that’s not what I’m gonna do,” Alan Grant whispers, half in shadow, blue eyes ablaze with a promise he didn’t know he was going to make. He can’t keep it. There are monsters in the kitchen. Spielberg’s next movie, released only a handful of months later, is Schindler’s List.

9. Duel

Such a seam scratches the tape; rewind, start again. Where did this begin? On TV, in the backseat of a car, backing out of the garage. Duel is the world’s most accomplished demo reel, cinema stripped down to its bare minimum to let the director’s preposterous surplus of talent shine through. It’s about a man (named Mann, both appropriate and touchingly pretentious) who pisses off a truck driver we never see, who then chases our protagonist with lethal intent, and that’s it.

And that’s all Spielberg needs. What follows is the future, a steel-shod gauntlet of precise camera angles and insidious sound design that builds the bridge between the B-movie and the blockbuster. By the end you feel spent but sated, as if every possible creative drop has been wrung out of the slim scenario. It’s nothing more nor less than the finest Roadrunner & Coyote episode imaginable, to the extent that George Miller was clearly reaching back to it for inspiration again and again in Fury Road. Indeed, while Duel is set in the modern day, Spielberg needs no trickery to make the antagonistic truck look positively apocalyptic.

It’s such a vivid example of the medium’s unique possibilities that you have to stop to remember that it was made for TV. And then you stop to think that he was only 24, same age Welles was when he made Citizen Kane. Lofty comparison, I know, but Duel proves it’s not what your movie is about, but how it’s about it that counts. Spielberg made it look easy, and so everyone followed. The road goes ever on and on…

8. Munich

…until it doesn’t. No exit.

Munich is the culmination of Spielberg’s Blue Period, his great here-comes-another-bloody-century trepidation, punctured by Stanley Kubrick’s death and 9/11. The former gave birth to A.I. Artificial Intelligence, and the movies about closing doorways and agonized faces that followed. The latter palpably haunted Spielberg’s projects in its wake: even Minority Report, a script written years earlier and adapted from a decades-old story, was uncannily timely in its portrait of overreaching security and law enforcement built to placate (and control) a population reeling from loss. Then came the director’s outright Twin Towers Trilogy: The Terminal, War of the Worlds, and Munich, addressing the event from different angles and through different filters. Of course, the intriguing and emotional setup in The Terminal’s opening minutes, framing post-9/11 bureaucracy as fluid chaos eating away at the state from within, quickly gives way to disappointing inanity. And while I maintain that War of the Worlds is absolutely perfect as an on-the-ground recreation of 9/11 as an alien attack for the first 50-60%, things go downhill fast once Tim Robbins shuffles onscreen.

Munich is the one that actually has the courage of its convictions, in large part because it’s about the director and protagonist alike breaking down in tears and admitting they don’t know what to believe anymore. Every set piece unfolds with a quiet chill and ends with you contemplating mortality. It’s a deliberately non-thrilling thriller. The ideology dissolves, not in neat bromides but in the day-to-day realities of ending human beings. Revenge fills you with fire, hot and bright, and then turns sour in your mouth. Narrative strands cross and recross, and the film’s inciting event, murder before the world’s watching eyes, sinks into that abyss known as Context.

By the end, you don’t even know what you’re fighting for anymore but your family, and you’re haunted by the knowledge that your kids will be fighting the same damn fight. The last thing to be corrupted, then, is the dinner table. Our protagonist begs to break bread with his handler, and the final word of the Blue Period is “no.” The camera tilts over to the Twin Towers, their loss contextualized as just another curl of a horrorshow helix, and the exorcism is complete. The anger and grief has largely vanished from Spielberg’s work since, as he’s settled into a comfortable John Ford mode. He left his questions here, unanswered.

7. Minority Report

If A.I. was Spielberg’s 2001, a millennia-spanning epitaph for humanity and a glimpse of what we leave behind, Minority Report (following the Kubrick trajectory) would be his Clockwork Orange, stepping down from the stars to gaze with cold horror on the things we do to one another with power. In the future, three young seers see crimes before they happen, enabling the state to lock people away for crimes they haven’t committed in the name of wiping out crime for good. Indeed, this fleet fluid fever dream makes explicit visual reference to Clockwork’s Ludovico scene (see above). In Spielberg’s memory machine, though, the image of an eye forcibly kept open by metal claws takes on a meaning beyond social and political analysis, though those are certainly still in there. It’s something more spiritual: Minority Report is about divine sight in a postmodern age.

Our protagonist’s rival went to seminary, his own men tell him they’re more priests than cops, but Tom Cruise’s John Anderton can’t bring himself to recognize the Spielberg Miracle at work here. The larger moral revelation of the “precogs,” the framing of their ability to see crimes before they happen as a techno-noir version of Biblical prophecy, is lost on Anderton because it can’t bring his son back. For him, that the future is known points to the futility of human existence. If there’s no free will, if we’re all doomed to perpetually fall in a fallen world, what’s the point?

And then one of the precogs asks him: “Do you see?” So begins the murder mystery that will see him accused of a future murder, that of the man who ostensibly killed his son. Anderton chooses mercy, only for the man to grab and pull the trigger because it’s all a setup to prevent Anderton from learning the truth about the precogs: they, too, are children stolen from their parents, all our characters trapped in a Möbius strip of loss they can only watch unfold, again and again, as if on the film’s countless screens. The images have been manipulated to hide the truth, the divine vision sullied by contact with the greedy exploitative systems of the Blue Period. But our detective finds the truth, and an existential triumph in making the right choice even if he can’t change the outcome. I’ve always taken the happy ending, a startling glimpse of green after a movie of blues and grays that look etched in stone, as just another vision. Closure is there, your family is there, in the future, in the past, just out of reach, smiling back at you. It hurts to look, but even as your eyes are torn out and replaced, you can’t look away.

6. Raiders of the Lost Ark

Well now, see, this one’s a tad criticism-proof by design, being as it is smelted and shaped to get under your defenses. “Disarming” seems like a strange choice of defining adjective for this most white-knuckled of action/adventure movies, but for all the staggering moviemaking skill on display, Raiders is ultimately a puppy shoving its nose under your hand. Given the slightest opportunity, it will make you love it. Fun is its religion, so deeply felt and communicated is the generous desire to entertain, rooted in the pulp serials that first lit the fire in its makers’ bellies to create.

And that fire again burns hot and bright, which is Raiders’ other secret magic trick: underneath all the cleverness, the jokes within jokes and setpieces spilling into ever more elaborate ones, the sense that every single moment was designed to make the rest of the genre look paltry and stingy by comparison, what happens at the end is nothing less than the very specifically Old Testament God stepping in to fry Nazis’ faces off. It’s the Ghostbusters trick of grounding helium-high hijinks in metaphysical forces that are not in any way kidding around. Our action hero, at the climax of the movie, is simply the one who (in an inverse of Minority Report) is smart enough to look away. So many Spielberg movies boil down to a shaft of divine light, and sometimes the light burns.

Then came the bizarre, hallucinogenic Temple of Doom and the sturdy, winning Last Crusade and that fourth one we don’t talk about, but they’re all in some way reactions to the nigh-flawless original. All you can do is go back, wearing the leather deep, Indy ageless, his eyes blazing shut against the light.

5. Empire of the Sun

Equally criticism-proof, but for the exact opposite reasons. This is the one no one can quite explain. Spielberg isn’t telling; he might not have any more idea than the rest of us. It shares certain themes with the rest of his work, especially regarding how children process the collapse and change of their world, but the similarities are strictly on paper. It feels different. I don’t what it…is. What it’s for. What it means. These sound like bad things, but they’re not. Empire of the Sun is utterly arresting, every bit as much as those canonized Spielberg classics of which anyone can explain the appeal. It’s just that it unfolds like a dream, and I’m left grasping after it in the same way. It might be one of the more accurate adaptations put to film in only that it feels so much more novelistic in its thrust and tone than most.

What can be pinned down is a series of images and sounds about the fall and occupation of Shanghai by Japan in WWII, told from the perspective of the naive sheltered son of a British emissary. Our hero is played by Christian Bale, in what might be my favorite child performance. To the extent that Empire of the Sun is about anything beyond the experience of watching it, it’s about his breakdown, and that’s what grounds the dreamlike style: we’re watching a bubble burst. Death and decay unfold out of the corner of his eye, like a memory he can’t quite bear to fully recall. His childhood vanishes when he shrieks surrender at anyone who will listen, trusting the rules to snap back into place and the world to make sense again, only for the collapse to continue unabated.

It’s made out of smoke and corners and quiet sadnesses. It’s runny, like an egg. I dream about it sometimes. You should watch it if you haven’t.

4. E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial

*harrumphs, wipes eyes* so um uh my name is Emmett, you see, and it begins with a….an ends with a….shut up.

That’s the point, though, of the movie: identification so strong that it almost kills you. E.T. is love, that’s all. All of it is here, from pure warm glow to heart stopping loss, swept up in imagery and sound that seem to positively hum with rich rueful feeling. Much has been made of how much of the movie is shot from a child’s POV, but everything about the movie operates on kid-logic. ET himself, for example: botanist or pet? Both. The connection he forges with Elliott swirls all such categories together. Elliott needs this, is yearning for love so badly, and even when it hurts, he’s more alive than he was before, with Dad gone.

But what makes E.T. different from, say, Star Wars and Harry Potter is that our hero only gets a taste of this other world, his fingertips brushing against magic as he passes it in the night. The gold-and-purple-brushed cinematography and the ecstatic, eternally swelling score sweep the profound and mundane together as one, bike rides and trick-or-treating and a psychic connection with an alien, yet the narrative eventually teases them apart like a sad parent forced to tell their kid that the dog is dead, and what “dead” means. ET returns to life, the definitive Spielberg Miracle…and then he leaves. Elliott will go home to his melancholy, frustrating life. School is still hard. His emotions still confuse him. Dad is still gone. The final shot of his face is not one of wonder, but maturation. It’s the moment Elliott grows up, and it’s the very definition of bittersweet.

What do you do, when you’ve loved and lost? You go home, you play with your toys, you send letters into Weird Things and Such SF Monthly, you make movies in your backyard, and you watch the skies….

….until they come back.

All of them.

3. Close Encounters of the Third Kind

I smiled just typing the words. I whispered them to myself, Close Encounters of the Third Kind. This movie is a lil shining red ball dancing in my eyes; it is glee given form, a rainbow-colored pony ridden by a Willy Wonka-suited Care Bear on twenty tabs of LSD. The last half-hour, all glowing light and warm noise, earns the cliche: it makes you feel like a kid again, in the best possible way. After a movie’s buildup of wonder and terror, the sight and sound of a colossal lit-up mothership cheerfully BWAMMing out a melody is so cathartic that it’s impossible to sit still.

As with Raiders, though, it’s worth digging into the movie’s layers to understand where that light is coming from, and what it costs you to look at it. Close Encounters is a movie about communication, of course, from the alien lights to the translator forever accompanying Francois Truffaut (a filmmaker who knows a thing or two about capturing kid-logic on screen). It’s a movie about the fragility of family life in the face of the unknown, hence that devastating scene around the dinner table: something’s wrong with Dad, a subject near and dear to the director’s heart.

But above all else, it’s a religious movie, the religious movie. It’s about rushing upwards, and leaving all else behind. Roy Neary sees a divine light in the sky, and can’t reconcile it with the life he was living. He obsessively recreates his vision in idols, chases it across the country, driving his wife and children away in favor of his fellow prophets: here are my mother and my brothers. And the sting in that gorgeous symphonic ending’s tail is that it’s so good that Roy sheds this mortal coil to join them in the heavens. Spielberg has said that if he made it now, he wouldn’t have let Roy get on that ship. And when you look at E.T. or the movies he made from Schindler forward, it’s clear why: in joining the interstellar flock, the man-child left his family to the wolves. By the time Roy/Eliot came home, his skin had sagged, his hair had gone white, and his children were waiting for him with eyes that cut.

And what do their movies look like?

2. A.I. Artificial Intelligence

The ultimate deconstructed fairytale; a honeyvelvetacid-glazed gaze into a heart-shaped abyss; Kubrick a darkwinged angel looming over ET’s crib, brushing a final tear away from his metallic eye…

So does Steven Spielberg, our flesh and blood Peter Pan, grow old and tell the children he lied. The monster is inside the house, inside your head, and inside the stories. At the core is a child’s innocent love for his mother…programmed in him, by her, a debt she cannot and will not repay. “His love is real, but he is not.” Pinocchio but for robots, A.I. takes its sci-fi trappings as a launching pad for a guiding philosophical question: “if a robot could genuinely love a human, what responsibility would that person hold towards that mecha in return?” The boardroom exec who poses that question pauses, almost bashful to ask the next one in a room full of people who treat the abuse of robots like a joke or a PowerPoint presentation, and then proceeds: “it’s a moral question, isn’t it?”

It is indeed, and for David’s adoptive family, the answer is none. He is abandoned, and chases his Blue Fairy and his happy ending across the apocalypse. As his fellow robots are torn apart to the cheers of the crowd in front of him, as his entire environment upends his hardwired fairytale logic into a sleazy neon-and-smoke nightmare, as his companion Gigolo Joe warns him presciently that “they made us too smart, too quick, and too many…they hate us because they know that when they’re gone, all that will be left is us,” David keeps looking for the Blue Fairy to turn him into a real boy so Mommy will love him again. He has no choice. His brain literally will not let him do otherwise. There is no will to power here, no core he can call upon to upend his puppet masters’ plan and prove himself Human After All. All he has is love, and they’ve used it to enslave him: at journey’s end, he finds his maker, who reveals that everything post-abandonment was staged to test if his love held. It did, and as such that love is now a corporate-approved field-tested quality-assured Feature that can be passed onto the hungry customer. This is not a Hero’s Journey, because you are not a person. You are a thing, and this is a product launch. David sees a dozen faces like his, stretched on a rack and ready. There is a row of boxes. They have David’s silhouette on them. All of a sudden, one starts to rattle and shake…

In the face of this existential horror (“my brain is falling out”) David promptly chooses suicide, whispering “Mommy” as he jumps from the statue he saw in his first moments. Down in the void, he finds the Blue Fairy and prays to her for millennia, but she cannot answer his eternal plea. She is a statue. An image, nothing more. She crumbles into a thousand pieces in his arms. He finds his mother, too. She is a fake, a digital mirage. Future robots create a simulacrum of her, as David himself was a simulacrum to replace her comatose son, designed in the image of his creator’s dead son…and of course, he cannot tell the difference. He gets his happy ending, on the surface. Underneath, what’s actually happening is that he’s an orphan who will never grow up being shown a movie and told everything is going to be all right. He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts…

…but it doesn’t matter how much he wants it, that is not his mother and his mother never loved him. We know these things even if he doesn’t. He claps because he believes in fairies, forever, eyes and smile frozen, waiting for them to appear, any second now. This is Spielberg showing you a brain on Spielberg. David followed Story over the waterfall’s edge, and now has only time’s vasty deep into which to shout “I love you” and convince himself the echoes are his make-believe savior and his long-dead mom. There is only the water that swallowed up Manhattan, and then the world, and him with it…

Wait.

There’s something in the water.

1. Jaws

To borrow from Alien, the closest thing it has to a peer: Jaws’ structural perfection is matched only by its hostility. You could just call it the perfect movie and walk away, except that if you try the floor tilts up beneath you and down you go into the mouth, the most abyssal maw in imagination’s history, and those black eyes roll over to white and you beg for more.

Run down the pedestals at the Movie Museum: Citizen Kane wants you to breathe in a life. Rashomon wants you to question how storytelling works and what Truth actually is, or if it exists at all. Jaws wants to eat you. Not the characters, you. That’s what Spielberg figured out how to do, and the entire industry reshaped itself around copying him: tonal immersion so absolute that he could make the audience feel anything he wanted, on a dime. Hitchcock played your spine like the devil on a fiddle; Spielberg is a rainbow-wigged mad scientist strapping you on a rocket to the sun. He created his own genre, and it’s the one that still dominates the medium in every corner of the globe. With a shark. A shark that, as a prop, did not fucking work.

Details? How do you pull one strand out of a web like this one? I can only say “perfect” so many times, but I mean it. Shot for shot, line by line, beat by beat. Every domino falls. The calm moments and the funny ones and the frantic blood-soaked ones, everything is earned. As with Raiders, the highest compliment I can pay is that other movies taste like shit for a month afterwards. When I hear the word “craftsmanship” I do not think of cars or cabinets, I think of Jaws. It feels hewn.

The numbers came later. The myth, the legend, the pale imitations, the bad sequels, the ripple effects, all secondary. What Jaws is, is sensation. It cannot have been made, surely, it hatched. It was never launched. It will never fall. Smile, you son of a–

#steven spielberg

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theabominableblogger · 6 years

Text

My Reaction to “Batman and Robin”

Oh God here we go. Just in time for the holidays...

*externally screaming*

*deep breath then continues screaming*

What’s with these opening credits?

Do they really have to put creases everywhere on the Batsuit?

Is Robin wearing eyeshadow?!?

Hot Wheels: The Movie

“This is why Superman works alone.” Oh God, Superman’s in this universe?

My sister: It’s the Nicholas Cage version.

You gotta have this big elaborate light show to reveal Dick’s motorcycle

Is that Pat Hingle [as Commissioner Gordon]? God, just go away.

Not gonna lie, I like the makeup they did for Mr. Freeze’s face

“Hi Freeze, I’m Batman!”

The hole left in the wall when Dick crashes through it is the Robin symbol. SUBTLE!

“It’s the hockey team from hell!” I mean, yeah.

Random close ups!

Ice skates!

Freeze just threw that guy straight up in the air.

This whole movie looks like it took place in a rave. Like, what’s with all the neon lighting in an art museum?

I like the bottom of Mr. Freeze’s boots. At least he’ll get traction

[Mr. Freeze rockets out of the museum] *sings* If you want to view paradise...

So where does Freeze find all this time to make these contraptions in the first place?

George Clooney’s acting is like a stick: it’s wooden

If Dick yells “Cowabunga!,” I swear to God...

“Cowabunga!” Oh my God no

There is no way Batman can catch up to Mr. Freeze in free fall. 10 ft per second, assholes!

The colors in this movie would legit make a pretty awesome commission color palette

Robin was just frozen mid-air?!?!?

*sing songs* Shaky cam!

Chuck him [the frozen Robin] at the wall!

Matte painting!

What did she (Dr. Isley) just say?

AN: We’re only 15 minutes in?!?

Is she [Dr. Isley] speaking into a tube of lipstick?

Antonio Diego?

This whole scene with the introduction to Bane looks like something out of Rocky Horror for some reason. You got a couple weird people in suits watching the whole thing up on a balcony and you got a wacky-ass scientist with crazy hair

That’s.... gross...

Pointing... more pointing!

So dumping a whole bunch of toxins on Dr. Isley is gonna turn her into a psycho plant seductress? OK...

I like how the security camera zooms in on Victor becoming Mr. Freeze

George Clooney looks way too smug to be Bruce Wayne for some reason. Grow some hair!

AN: Oh my God, we’re only 23 minutes in... *whines* this is a two hour movie!

Dutch Angle!

I do like the purple lighting in the lab

*Poison Ivy appears in the middle of the lab from underground* How?

“My [Ivy] blood has been replace with aloe, my skin with chlorophyll.”

My sister: Moisturize your skin with my blood!

Me: MOISTURIZE ME!

Chlorophyll is a pigment. If her [Ivy’s] skin is now made up of chlorophyll, shouldn’t she be green?

Is Woodrue’s tongue turning green?

“Hell, I am Mother Nature!” That’s like probably one of the only good lines in this movie.

*starts singing “Mr. Snow Miser”*

I like Freeze’s polar bear slippers!

This mofo [Freeze] is blue!

Why does Mr. Freeze have a cigar?

This whole movie plot is ripped from an episode of “Batman: The Animated Series.” Seriously, the episode’s called “Cold Comfort.”

The actress playing Nora Fries looks waaaay too young for some reason.

George Clooney is wearing a turtleneck... for the love of God, wear something else!

“I’m not used to this type of luxury...” You [Barbara] go to a boarding school. Shut up!

This looks like one of the streets used in the Batman TV show in the 60s.

That wig Ivy just put on has the Pulp Fiction bangs

Who’s the lady in the pink suit?

Julie Madison? Why don’t we see more of her besides being a one-off girlfriend?

OK, I like the trench coat Ivy has on

They used the word “primordial” in the script. I’m impressed.

“... warm-blooded opressors...” Aren’t you [Ivy] warm-blooded though? You’re human...

Holy crap the makeup on Mr. Freeze without the costume is great

*The costume ball starts* This is “The Mask” all over again

This is literally the same set they used for the art museum in the beginning of the movie

There’s a dude in the background wearing a leopard-print tuxedo

*mutters* The hell is this music?

I actually like the eye makeup on Ivy

“I’ll bring everything you see here and everything you don’t.” Mic drop.

Was that a banana peel sound effect?

My sister: Yes it was.

“Good night.” OK, that was funny.

Where is Ivy still there after Freeze left?

*The camera pans up a giant statue* HANDSSSSS.... TOUCHING HANDSSSS...

Parkour!

Oh my gosh the CGI

Redbird?

REEED ROBIN YUMMMMM

ExPLOsions...

*The Batmobile gets frozen and crashes* Oh no, not the merchandise!

“We have very little time.” For what?

Michael Gough: MVP of the movie

Did they just use a lightsaber sound effect to indicate the end of the flashback?

Ominous green lighting!

They [the Arkham guards] put him [Freeze] in an ice box...

Whoa...

The tile son the floor in Victor’s cell line up to make a snowflake

*Radioactive ghetto people show up* I would legit go as one of them for Halloween

This movie is just one big sound stage

Where’d she [Ivy] get the seeds from?

George Clooney legit sounds like Mel Gibson’s John Smith from “Pocahontas”

There’s a floating face!

I think that’s actually Coolio

AN: Yes it is

What is the point of this whole motorcycle race thing? There’s literally no point to this scene.

My sister: Did they just really wanna show off the set?

Me: Well this movie is literally one giant toy commercial so...

That green screen was terrible

“Alfred’s not sick. He’s dying.” Well way to whip that out, movie!

You can tell that they put some effort into the characterization of Freeze in this movie. It’s just surrounded by a bunch of campy, stupid stuff.

“Men are the most absurd of God’s creations.” Man was one of the first ones, bitch...

I have the Poison Ivy gif of “Not good!” saved on my laptop

Sorry Freeze, only one person looks good in chrome

*Freeze freezes the pipes to make them explode* Well that was quick

Liking the statues of the absolutely ripped dudes on the fireplace mantle in Wayne Manor. Schumacher, I see you.

*Batman opens up the secret bookcase in Freeze’s old lair to find Nora* IT’S MISTER WHITE CHRISTMAS, IT’S MISTER SNOW!

I like that there’s a convenient lever from “Heat” to “Freeze”

*Bane beats Robin* I was wondering what would break first: your spirit... or your body!

“Why are all the gorgeous ones homicidal maniacs?” Point!

Oh there you go. Commissioner Gordon actually did something in this movie.

Is that slime?

“I’m [Dick] going solo!” But not Han Solo. He’s not cool enough to be Han Solo

My sister: He’s whiny enough to be Ben Solo

Me: Except Ben Solo was written better.

Oh, Ivy’s green boots are awesome

Freeze’s eyes look orange in this scene

“First...” Gotham!

“Gotham!” Then the world!

“And then... the world!” Haha!

“Adam... and Evil!” BOO...

OH MY GOD- oh, that’s Bruce. OK.

*Bruce and Dick argue over Ivy’s influence over them* It’s called pheromones, guys. Everyone has them.

What the... heck was that transition?

Oh I like that dress Ivy’s wearing...

Slow... motion...

Ellie Macpherson (Julie Madison) kinda looks like Jennifer Garner

Oh just smash it [the Bat-signal] in! You don’t need to actually lift it up!

I just realized what’s wrong with George Clooney in this movie: it always looks like he has a five o’clock shadow above his top lip

*Bruce hugs Alfred* Aaawww!

The signature on the portrait wasn’t there a second ago!

*cracks up at the computer saying “Access Granted”*

Why is a telescope powered on crystals?

“... will you trust me now?” *in best angsty teenage impression* No, because he’s [Dick] got his eyeshadow on!

OK. Arnold’s evil laugh is getting there. A little more work then he’s got it

*Barbara puts on her Batsuit* Eeewww... eeww!

How the hell did Ivy set up her evil lair?

“Hi there.” *in best George Clooney voice* Hi Robin, I’m Ivy!

“How about ‘Slippery When Wet?’“

*actually has to collapse backwards on floor to laugh*

My sister: Her eyeshadow’s awesome

Me: She [Ivy] looks like a drag queen!

My sister: It’s the eyebrows!

*Robin peels off his rubber lips* WHAAAAAAA?!?!?!?!?

Oh my God, look at her [Ivy’s] bangles!

Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait! They rewound the tape when Robin resurfaces from the pool!

My sister: *sings* My name’s Blurryface and I care what you think...

*Ivy’s plants suddenly eat her* ...Why?

Oh she’s not dead. OK...

*Camera pans up giant statue* Aaaabbsss... Schumacher loves them...

*Random person in telephone booth gets frozen* NO, NOT THE TARDIS!

NO, NOT THE DOG!

He was frozen mid-pee though. Youch.

WHAAT IS THIS?!?!?!?

Why do all the Batsuits have silver accents now? Unless the silver bits are just snap-on attachments...

*sing songs* Free-zing... freezing the city!

PLAnets...

My sister: Now I just want the planetarium fight from “The Great Game” to happen

Me: Oh my God... we should watch that instead!

My sister: Right?!?!?

You seriously could take any shot from this movie and all the colors in them would make up an awesome color palette

*Dick unleashes the grappling hook at the last minute and successfully latches onto something* I CALL BULL!

Where the hell did he [Bane] come from?!?

AN: Oh God we’re almost done with this movie YAAAAYY!

*Bane literally deflates* Eeeewwww!

Oh my gosh, that 1997 CGI though

[Some of the ice in the city proceeds to melt] *sings* Here comes the sun...

*Mr. Freeze lets out an evil chuckle* What a story, Mark!

Oh my God, that green screen though!

*The Bat gang manages to get rid of all the ice covering the city* This... is bull... shit.

The ice actually wiggles on the cop car door!

THERE IS NO WAY BATMAN GOT THAT FOOTAGE OF IVY!

I call bullshit on this whole movie!

Oh, and he [Freeze] just had the cure [to Nora and Alfred] on him the whole time?

OK, I actually liked the music for that scene. What the heck?

OK, for being a man-hater, Ivy, you’re pretty obsessed about one.

“Winter has come at last.” Game of Thrones did it better.

The official catchphrase for this movie: Hi [insert name], I’m [insert other name]

HEELP! THEY’RE CASTING FOR BATMAN UNCHAINED!

*in best Batman voice* DON’T MAKE ME PUSH YOU DOWN, O’DONNELL [Robin/Dick]! I’LL DO ANYTHING TO GET OUT OF THIS FRANCHISE!

#the blogger reacts #batman and robin #bruce wayne #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #barbara gordon #batman #robin #mr. freeze #arnold schwarzenegger #poison ivy #george clooney #joel schumacher #bane #mister snow miser #commissioner gordon

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rumongray · 7 years

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Hello! I see you're taking questions, so I thought I'd just pop in with some basic bitch 'get-to-know-you' questions, if that's okay! If you wanna answer, I'd love to know: What's your favorite color(s)? Favorite season? Favorite type of geck and what makes them the best? c: Any hobbies besides writing? Do you collect anything? Favorite food? Favorite music/ bands? (I think I saw somewhere once that you like N.I.N, which is pretty cool) ( Thanks! That's all I can fit for now!)

Hi there! I’m always taking questions, since I don’t get very many to begin with, so I’m totally okay with basic bitch questions. XD

Gonna put them behind a cut!

Favorite colors?

Hmm…I’m weird in that I have a lot, but they all have their reasons I suppose. I never really put stock in a “favorite color” for myself, because there are a lot of situations where certain colors stand out from others.

I like red because it’s a very strong, attractive color. It draws the eye and catches one’s attention better, and to be honest…I like catching people’s eye. I’ve slowly started getting a few pieces of red clothing primarily because of that, and also I think it looks good with blond hair.

I like blue and its many shades and hues because of its calming nature. I’m honestly drawn to aqua and cyan quite a bit. There’s nothing really much to this one other than I just…like it.

Purple, especially dark purple, is a regal color that I’ve really come to enjoy, but again, I’d prefer it to be dark. My school colors were purple and gold, which looked alright, but the purple was a brighter shade, and I…eh…I’d rather forget high school I suppose. It wasn’t bad, just kinda…blegh.

And of course when it comes to characters in games and the like, I try to match what would fit them if possible. I like my paladins to wear white and gold, I like healers to wear blue or green, rogues in black or other dark colors, etc.

To be honest, it’s easier to pick colors I don’t like. I’m not too fond of orange, since at its brightest I find it annoying and when it’s dark it looks…shitty. I’m torn on the color brown. It can often look great on characters with other accents, but sometimes people choose like..the ugliest shades of brown and it can really ruin a character for me. :P

I’m okay with gray. It serves its purposes in the right places…like giving me a cool last name. (My mother’s maiden name is Gray, and if I ever become an author, I’d use that last name as part of my pen name.)

Favorite type of gecko?

Hah, haven’t really put thought into this one. I find them all cute! Although I like green geckos myself, although that’s a bit of a stereotypical answer. XD

Any hobbies besides writing?

Hmm…it’s mostly just video games. I’ve mentioned before though that it’s not just the playing of those games I’m into. I also really enjoy learning about the industry, the ins and outs of how things work. How developers work in their environment, what publishers do exactly, and that kind of thing. I actually like to keep myself up to date on game culture and news.

I do like reading up on melee weaponry from around the world. It usually stops short of say, siege weaponry and the like, but I love learning about swords, spears, axes, and weapons of a more exotic nature. I’m also still a fan of reading up on science, although my college days are long past and I’ve lost the mathematical part of it, I can still grasp the concepts of the more advanced stuff. Astrophysics is a big favorite.

I guess I’m not much of a hobbyist. Outside of writing, I just like to kick back and relax with my time off. Watch youtube vids, play games, just take a load off. The benefit to this is that when a new hobby presents itself, I can acclimate and adapt to it if I find it something worthwhile to pursue, y’know? I’m pretty easy going and can stay entertained with just a conversation for the most part when I’m with other people.

Do you collect anything?

Other than swords and the like? :P

Although I suppose the answer is no, I don’t really collect anything for the sake of collecting. Every now and then at work I’ll find a strange quarter or currency from another country that I’ll slip into my pocket, but that’s pretty much it. You’d be amazed at how many people think silver dollars are just quarters! XD

But even then, if it’s an odd coin I’ll collect it. A penny that, through a chemical reaction has turned gold? Yeah I’ll snag it. Another penny that’s straight up silver? Yep, got one of those. I even have a coin from the United Arab Emirates around here somewhere. Can’t find it right now though. Bummer.

I also like getting videogame-related trinkets every now and then. I have a Bowser amiibo, Sans and Papyrus figures, Yoshi and Bowser Mario Kart from my work’s happy meals. I don’t really collect them though for two reasons: Money, and space. I used to collect Magic: The Gathering cards as a kid. Used to. Boy was that an expensive habit.

Favorite Food?

If I had to pick, I’d have to go with a well-prepared steak. If prepared well enough, steak sauce isn’t even needed. I’ve had some like that before. Just…perfect flavor from start to finish.

I also like Mongolian BBQ, or a nice rotisserie chicken dinner.

Favorite Music / Bands?

So, for music in general, I’m always drawn to a good melody over anything else. Something that sounds good to the ear that can elicit a good emotional response. It really triggers my writing brain and helps me come up with scenes to match to the music at times.

As for bands, yep! I’m a big Nine Inch Nails fan, from The Fragile onward. Never got into The Downward Spiral, but it has a few tracks I do like. Trent Reznor’s just so good at evoking emotions with his music, especially the darker ones that I like to explore in writing every now and then. Along with this is “How To Destroy Angels,” another band consisting of Reznor his wife Mariqueen Maandig, and Atticus Ross. Their first full-length album was a chilling, amazing look into the possibilities of the Technological Singularity. It’s such a great album.

Another favorite band of mine is Vertical Horizon, and their song, “I’m Still Here,” is probably one of my absolute favorites.

youtube

Fear Factory is another big favorite of mine. I do like metal, but I don’t really like the screaming so much…it tends to sound almost lifeless to me at points…no melody to it, or at least, not one that strikes my fancy. Fear Factory’s Burton Bell though has a fantastic voice, both for screaming AND singing.

youtube

Fear Factory is also one of the hardest working bands I’ve ever been a fan of. They’ve consistently put out albums every…3 years or so since they started, and haven’t stopped yet. They’re currently working on another one, and I’m hyped for it!

Other bands I like include: Imogen Heap/Frou Frou, Linkin Park (yeah yeah, shut up, he’s got a great voice), Celldweller (I’m weirdly proud of Klayton and his success. I remember when Celldweller started, now he’s producing music for trailers, movies, and games, including even Killer Instinct!), Gravity Kills (chatted with the frontman, Jeff Scheel once for a little bit on twitter. He’s a pretty cool guy!), The Crystal Method, Carpenter Brut, God Lives Underwater (RIP :C), The Birthday Massacre, and Zeromancer.

Of course, I also enjoy Ninja Sex Party, Starbomb, Steel Panther, and Nashville Pussy, for music of a more comedic bent. XD Danny Sexbang’s former band, Skyhill, is also really calming to listen to. His voice is so astoundingly good!

Hope this answered your questions, but I’m always down for more.

Thanks for asking! Take care! :D

#answers #sonorangaara #favorites #Nine Inch Nails #Vertical Horizon #Fear Factory #among others #thanks for asking #<3

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rebelwheelssoapbox · 6 years

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Pretty vs. Visually Interesting: Thoughts On Gender, Beauty and Disability

(TW: The following article discusses oppression, gender, ableism, body image struggles & verbal abuse.) As an artist and photographer, I am drawn to people who look visually interesting versus someone who just looks pretty. To be clear, one can be visually interesting and attractive. Attractive is a very subjective thing that can vary and although one’s idea of attractive might be influenced (consciously or unconsciously) by what society deems as pretty, it does not need to conform to such rigid ideas to qualify as beautiful. Yet as a woman, I am aware of the great lengths society goes to remind me that I should strive for pretty. For although it is 2018, in ways we are very much stuck in the highly rigid and toxic gender roles, where a man's worth is defined by his ability to earn money and thus be a “good provider” for his family and a woman's worth is defined by her ability to attract a man via her ability to conform to the societal idea's of beauty (aka: pretty).

[image of a cisgender appearing man and woman on their wedding day in their wedding attire].

This of course, is toxic for many reasons: for one, it portrays marriage, monogamy and having kids as something that is right for everyone, when it is not. It's also based on a very hetero-normative standard, when there are other equally valid sexual orientations. It falsely suggests there are only two sexes and two genders, and lastly that one's gender (a man-made concept that says that one's appearance and behavior is based on what's in your pants) is determined at birth by one's sex (which is just not the case) But I digress. The idea of pretty (at least in regard to women) is a rigid standard of beauty that typically favors whiteness, cisgender appearance, sexy – but for the sake of the male gaze, slim over fat (or fat in “acceptable areas” like the chest and ass), and certainly bodies that are not visibly disabled. And thus is also highly toxic because it's not something that everyone can achieve.

[a model looks towards her right]

And if a woman's worth is supposedly determined by her ability to conform to pretty, (which of course is not actually true, but that's what is promoted in our society), then cue all kinds of internal struggles between who a person is (how they appear and how they feel) and who they think they ought to be if they are to be accepted, loveable and good enough. If they are to be of worth.

Though not my only identity, as a visibly disabled woman, society makes it pretty clear that I can not be pretty. According to society, disability (when visible) can not be pretty, as our bodies do not conform to the able bodied standard. In fact, the more visible my disability, the more backlash I get. This is not to say that disabled people can not be beautiful, because we are. We're just not pretty – but we don't need to be.

In fact, as an artist and photographer who favors imperfection in their subject, I strive to look visually interesting over pretty. This is a conscious choice. I wear my disability identity as a badge of pride using hashtags like Disabled AF #represent, and thus taking the power back.

[image description: a circle design with a purple, blue, purple, yellow and then orange border. It's circles within circles. The main fill of the circle however is red. The text is yellow "Disability Pride is not about loving your symptoms 24/7. It's about rejecting the idea that they make you inferior. #disabledAF #represent " ]

When I think of pretty, I think of boring and being boxed in. When I think of visually interesting, I think of subversive and freedom.

But I didn't always feel this way. When I was a little kid, I used to love going through various fashion magazines. I liked looking at all the women, with their gaze and shiny red lips. I am sure it was partially because I was queer (bi) but didn’t yet realize it, but also because that whole world just looked so exciting and glamorous to me. Around the age of 10, I decided I too wanted to be a model, so my mom drove me to a local modeling agency where a grown woman, looked at my belly with disdain and said “You'll have to lose that.”

[a photo of a model from the 80′s with blonde feathered hair, and eyes that are looking at the camera]

It was the first time I became aware of my body in regard to worth. Up to that point, I never looked at my body in the mirror and thought I am this or that. It was just a body. It helped me play outside and I covered it with clothes, but it was never good or bad. It just was. But in that moment, it became clear that the lack of flatness of my stomach was bad.

There were other factors (I grew up in a volatile household where I was called things like stupid bitch, fat, ugly, and often I was not physically safe) but I think it's safe to say that the experience at the modeling agency, was one reason why I developed a really toxic relationship with food and weight, often starving myself till 3pm, overeating and then exercising. I also desperately wanted a boyfriend in my teenage years because I was not conscious of how family and society had influenced my idea of worth. To be clear, there is nothing wrong with wanting a partner nor a loving relationship, but it is toxic when you feel you need a partner to show to the world, look how of worth I am for I was able to attract someone who is willing to date me. In time, and especially as I was exposed to third wave feminism & the riot grrl scene in the 90's (which yes can be problematic, but in this case was helpful), did I start to reject this quest to look pretty. Did I start to view pretty as this concept of beauty that celebrate the few and oppressed the many.

[a photo of Bikini Kill, a band from the Riot Grrl era]

In fact, in time, the more visible my disability became (as it was invisible enough in my youth, where most people didn’t think of me as disabled, just clumsy), in time the more I celebrated the beauty of imperfection. The beauty of visually interesting over pretty. I realized society is going to gawk at me regardless if I dress in all beige or wear loud colors. They are going to stare whether I dance or not (literally & symbolically), so I might as well just dance (spoons willing and if my heart so desired.)

By this time, I had also cut ties with many people in my family who were not capable/willing to treat me right – the way I deserve to be treated and also became better friends with food, eating when i was hungry and no longer depriving myself, nor equating my worth with my weight.

[a photo me in Betty, my motorized wheelchair wearing black combat boots]

Not to suggest that I always have my shit together, because I don't (and that’s okay. Does anyone actually have their shit together all the time?), but for the most part this is where I was at.

And it really wasn't until recently (2018), when I decided that I would start taking selfies, that the toxic influence of pretty came knocking on my door. Yes, I am late to the party. Honestly, I had nothing against selfies. It just never really occurred to my brain that I should take them. But being a YouTuber and noticing that fellow content creators post selfies of themselves on social media, I thought I too would give it a go.

Could I take a solid photo of myself? I thought it would be interesting to challenge myself artistically, since I am normally not the subject of my work. And since I am way more comfortable behind the camera then in front of it when it comes to photography, let's see what happens when we challenge ourselves on that level. But the more I took photos of myself, the more the focus was on me and my face, the more old demons came back to haunt me.

And while I do think that when people from marginalized demographics (such as the disability community) take & post selfies, that this can be an act of protest and can be used to create much needed representation, I started to become aware how certain selfies got more likes, shares and thus validation than others.

When I posted a selfie and no one responded, I started to feel self conscious and wondered, is it me? Is it the photo of my face that is somehow not enough? (Is it not pretty?) My past started to creep up on me again as I started to view my physical appearance with a super critical eye, noticing anything that looked “out of place.” Noticing the contrast between the selfies with the “perfect” makeup, “perfect” angle and “perfect” lighting (who got tons of shares & likes) versus mine who had none of those things. Even if I wanted to, I didn't have the spoons (energy) to put that kind of effort into a selfie and it started to mess with me.

[an artsy selfie with a blue tint and I am looking towards the right]

It wasn't until I started to take more artsy selfies, did I realize this is how I am comfortable being seen. It wasn’t till I took a more creative approach, did I start to care less how many people liked it, if people liked the photo, because I liked the photo, and that was enough. Only then did I start to re-embrace the way I look and celebrate the imperfection.

It was during hour 3 of the expedition, that I saw it... the elusive green diamond! #DaDaDaaaaaaaaaaaa #NerdySelfie [photo of my face with my mouth covered by a tie die scarf. reflected in my black rimmed nerdy glasses, is a green diamond (a reflection from the computer but shhhhh] So while I may subversively explore ideas of pretty in the future, for that is the freedom of doing visually interesting, I do not foresee me and pretty spending time together any time soon and that is a beautiful thing.

[a B&W photo of me wearing my black rimmed nerdy glasses and grinning ]

#gender #disability #gender roles #worth #ideas of worth #marginalized communities #selfies #pros and cons #are selfies #good #vain #verbal abuse #self control #self worth #reclaiming beauty #reclaiming power #disabled af

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