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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 2 years

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We Were Something, Don’t You Think So? [Chapter 12: The Atlantic Ocean] [Series Finale]

You are a Russian grand duchess in a time of revolution. Ben Hardy is a British government official tasked with smuggling you across Europe. You live happily ever after.

This is a work of fiction loosely inspired by the events of the Russian Revolution and the downfall of the Romanov family. Many creative liberties were taken. No offense is meant to any actual people. Thank you for reading! :)

Song inspiration: “the 1” by Taylor Swift.

Chapter warnings: Mentions of historical war and violence.

Word count: 3.6k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @imtheinvisiblequeen @okilover02 @adrenaline-roulette @youngpastafanmug @m-1234 @tensecondvacation @haileymorelikestupid @rogerfuckintaylor @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @im-an-adult-ish @someforeigntragedy @mo-whore @mellowfellowyellow @peculiareunoia @mischiefmanaged71 @fancybenjamin @anne-white-star @theonlyone-meeeee @witchlyboo @demo-wise

There are rumors that a grand duchess survived, of course—they are whispered into life almost immediately after the murders at Yekaterinburg and never quite disappear—although no one can seem to decide which one. Sometimes it’s Maria, sometimes Olga, sometimes me, most often Anastasia; and for years, decades afterwards there are women who periodically surface and claim to be my most undomesticated sister, and each time I know they’re not just by seeing their photograph in the newspapers. The only consensus that can be found is that surely the survivor is not Tatiana, as she never could have vanished into the anonymous ether of humanity, not with that striking, elegant, gem-rare sort of face. No, everyone agrees that the most beautiful Romanov daughter died in Russia; everyone, that is, but Ben.

It is the last day of the October of 1918 when we board a ship bound for the New World. Ben, Joe, and I ascend the steps as Ben’s family—our family, now—waves us off from the dock: August, Kathryn, Opal, Leo, Luther, Ben’s mother…and Frankie, too. He arrived in London six days after our audience with the king, honorable discharge papers in hand and a perplexed yet grateful expression on his face. I don’t know if it was guilt, or a bribe, or one last favor to my father, or simple pure-hearted mercy once his shock and rage bled away, but King George V kept his word about bringing Frankie home. I never ask my uncle about it. I never ask him anything. I never speak to a member of any royal family again.

As we cross the Atlantic—the days shortening, the nights bitterly cold, bobbing dolphins chasing our iron walls, right whales breaching in the distance—Ben and I walk the decks like we did on that bleak journey from Saint Petersburg to London, but this time we do it as Benjamin and Lana Hardy. We married in a brief, uncomplicated ceremony in a tiny Russian Orthodox cathedral we found tucked away in North London; as a wedded couple, we will have a smoother passage through Ellis Island. We have also thought of a way to keep the Romanov jewels safe and undiscovered, as our luggage will almost certainly be searched upon our arrival: we’ve sewn them into our clothes.

Joe, predictably, makes many new friends onboard—Italians, Greeks, Turks, Spaniards, Poles, Russians, Hungarians, Jews—but he grows closest to an Egyptian named Rami. Rami, a Coptic Christian, fled Egypt to escape religious persecution…but not before falling in love with the daughter of a British archaeologist based there. He and Lucy are newlyweds too, always entwining their fingers and gazing into each other’s clear eyes and bubbling over with anticipation for their very own fabled American Dream to begin. Lucy is expecting their first child already, and as we chat away her hand often settles—unthinkingly, instinctively—on the modest swell of her belly.

At Ellis Island, we are pried at and interrogated and examined for any signs of defects, whether mental or physical or of the spirit. And as we are granted entry and rush down the staircase with our hands gliding over flaking metal railings—the same railings gripped by millions seeking new lives here—I remember my dream from the night before we were summoned to Buckingham Palace: water, metal, crowds, cobblestone streets, unfamiliar plants, a cold prickling drink that I will one day recognize as Coca-Cola, innumerable transparent bulbs of light. Perhaps that was more than a dash of intuition. Perhaps it was my parents letting me know it was alright to choose another path.

We find an apartment in Brighton Beach; between the five of us, we can afford to keep it to ourselves without squeezing in any additional boarders. That first night—after Kroshka has been placed in a rented stable stall down the street, after the luggage is unpacked, after we have eaten chebureki purchased from a street vendor, as the cracked and bare walls stare silently back at us—Ben sits down on the scuffed floor and covers his face with his hands, too exhausted to weep but drained and petrified down to the bones. “It’s the responsibility,” he says, and I know exactly what he means: it’s the weight of having to look after his family, Joe, our new friends, me.

The very next day, I get a job at a settlement house three blocks from our apartment. The pay isn’t much, but then again it’s the first time in my life I’ve ever been paid for anything, and so that in itself gives me a great deal of satisfaction. I excel there; I am a proficient typist, I can read and write and speak a myriad of languages, and educated women fluent in Russian are hard to come by in Brooklyn. I teach new arrivals to speak English, I teach children to hold pencils, I teach adults how to find work, I teach women how to escape violent husbands and to prevent unwanted pregnancies. I clean faces and braid hair and look into eyes—shining, hopeful, thankful eyes—that remind me so much of my parents and brother and sisters that my heart aches, and then calms, and then opens wide to swallow up and engulf the abandoned people of this city, of this world. Little do I know that I will work at this same settlement house for fifty-one years, over half a century, longer than either of my parents lived.

Ben starts out at an afternoon daily newspaper company called the Brooklyn Eagle. In his spare time, he writes his own articles and shops around for publications that will take them. When we are in desperate need—when a storm shatters our windows, when the radiator breaks in the middle of January, when I catch pneumonia and need medicine and weeks of bedrest—Ben takes a few of the smallest jewels or a rope of precious metal to a pawn shop on the other side of Brooklyn and returns with a thick stack of bills with Alexander Hamilton’s face on them. Joe gets a job at a pizzeria in Little Italy so he can learn the tricks of the trade before striking out on his own. Rami works there too for a while before finding a position at a tailor shop owned by a Coptic Christian from Luxor.

Once they save up enough money, Rami and Lucy move into their own apartment in Astoria—where many Egyptian families are settling—and promptly fill it with fervently desired children. Joe marries a Sicilian woman named Christabella and moves with her to Little Italy. We see each other several times per week and I am present at each of Lucy’s births. Rami teaches me Arabic. I teach him Italian. Ben teaches me Old English songs from his childhood. Joe teaches us all to make pizza.

Sometimes—as I lay awake at night long after Ben has fallen into sleep, his breathing slow and serene—I wonder what became of the items I left at Buckingham Palace: the books, the scarf, the pillowcase. I wonder if they were lost, or thrown out with the rubbish, or kept by the Prince of Wales as some sort of strange memento. Sometimes I wish I still had them. More often, I am glad that I don’t.

I was a different person then. Perhaps it is better to make a truly clean start.

Within a year, and with the help of a sizeable contribution from me and Ben, Joe has opened up his own pizza shop in Little Italy called Signore Mazzello’s Pizzeria. It frequently has a line wrapped around the block during the lunch rush.

~~~~~~~~~~

It is 1925, and the nation is booming, racing, roaring. I am promoted to Assistant Director of the settlement house. Ben writes an article about his childhood in London and the New York Times buys it. When he sells them another—an anthology of the stories of the other immigrants who share our apartment building, many of them Russian by birth—they offer him a position as a full-time columnist. We stay in Brighton Beach but move to a townhouse on a quiet street with several bedrooms, a stable for Kroshka, and a small, fenced backyard. Ben sends word to his family in London that the time has finally come for them to join us across the Atlantic. They arrive on our doorstep one month later: Ben’s hushed mother, Frankie with his wife Althea, Luther with his fiancé Ethel, Leo with his poems, Opal with her paintings, Kathryn doting on the very slow and very grey basset hounds, August having grown into a singularly joyful and charismatic young man. The original plan was that they would stay with us only until they found their footing in Brooklyn, but as it turns out our home is always full; someone moves out, someone else moves back, it is a carousel of weddings and children and holidays and farewells and reunions. It is an undying warmth and fullness that I never believed I would experience again. It is heaven on earth.

Ben and I have two children, both explicitly planned. Each time he insists that I labor in a hospital, and each time he is in the room with me from start to end. We name them and we love them and we watch them grow like the flora of Central Park: eastern redbuds, blue mistflowers, scarlet beebalms, Carolina springbeauties, cinnamon ferns, calla lilies. Ben’s mother treasures our children and spends hours with them each day. They bring her a new purpose; they bring her peace. She says it is like being able to hold her own lost children again.

We make generous donations to settlement houses throughout New York City. When the aging owner retires, Rami takes over the tailor shop. Joe opens up three additional locations of Signore Mazzello’s Pizzeria throughout Brooklyn.

~~~~~~~~~~

It is 1936, and our adopted country is in the depths of the Great Depression. We help others float through the storm as best we can. At the New York Times, Ben takes on and funds several apprentices from working-class families. We volunteer at soup kitchens. We stock the pantry shelves at the settlement house. We teach our children about egalitarianism and democracy and compassion. We raise them to know nothing of my bloodline. They believe that I am British just as Ben is, and that we met as coworkers in London; we never mention that either of us ever set foot on Russian soil. This is a necessity: however unlikely, I am unwilling to risk the possibility of detection. Every once in a great while someone will give me a second glance, or narrow their eyes, or blink thoughtfully at me as if they have met me once in a dream…but it amounts to nothing. Even the Russian immigrants I work with rarely suspect anything. My accent and dialect are so far removed from theirs—so formal, so educated—that they can believe I learned it from a book. The last Romanov daughter is gone, buried like the rest of them. What is left is only Lana.

At Christmastime—a lean, humble Christmas—I read in the newspaper that David Windsor has abdicated the British throne and passed it on to his dull, dutiful younger brother. David left so he could marry the woman he loved, a woman forbidden to him, a divorced American named Wallis Simpson. As I sit at the kitchen table studying the lines of his face in the black-and-white photograph published on the front page, I wonder if any part of him was thinking of me when he announced his abdication to millions of British subjects via a BBC radio broadcast. I wonder if somewhere in the back of his skull lurked my shadow, my vanishing, my willingness to cut through the ties of royalty to embrace a life of my own choosing.

Rami and Lucy welcome their sixth child, a daughter they call Lana. Ben writes articles imploring the United States to accept refugees fleeing the rise of fascism in Europe. Joe has to close three of his pizzerias, but with a little help from Ben and me (and our stock of clandestine jewels), he is able to hold onto the original location through the worst years the American economy will ever see.

Some people sink, of course; there are always those who will sink. But we pull as many into the life rafts as we can.

~~~~~~~~~~

It is 1958, and Ben and I celebrate our 40 year anniversary with a trip to Australia. We see the kangaroos and koala bears and beaches and the vast, red wildness of the Outback, and while we think of Gwilym and Hazel Lee quite a lot we don’t spend any time at all contemplating the merits or failings of the British Empire. I have learned that it is futile, maddening even, to battle against things so far above my control; it’s like trying to fight the sea or the stars. I cannot set all things right across the globe, but I can improve the circumstances of thousands of souls. Surely there is no better way to repay the debt the Romanovs owed to the world. Surely my parents and siblings would understand if they could see me now…and sometimes, when I dream of them, I like to believe they can.

As I am leafing through a magazine one afternoon, I come across a photograph of David Windsor and his wife Wallis. They are at a polo match or a garden party or something like that—something frivolous, something regal, waving to the paparazzi—and before I can turn the page one detail catches my eye. Looped loosely around Wallis’ thin neck is the green scarf I bought in Moscow. The silver-thread bears are as bright and shimmering as I remember them. Wallis is flashing a wide, triumphant smile to the same reporters who had once maligned her as a conniving, lowborn whore.

He kept my things after all. Why would he do that?

I close the magazine, thinking of the strings that tie people together and then unravel and then come back together again in new designs. I think of how little each of us truly knows. Sometimes that’s a blessing, and sometimes that’s a curse, and sometimes we’ll never know which it is.

I am made Director of the settlement house. Ben is promoted to Deputy Editor of the New York Times. Signore Mazzello’s Pizzeria now has ten locations: four in New York City, one in Baltimore, two in Philadelphia, and three in Chicago. Joe has his sights set on Los Angeles next.

~~~~~~~~~~

It is 1963, and I watch as Walter Cronkite announces that President John F. Kennedy has been assassinated. His wife was right there in the limousine. The new president is sworn in as she stands beside him, shellshocked, embittered, her pink suit stained with her husband’s blood and brains.

Everyone is horrified, and everyone is sad, but my children don’t understand why I cannot stop crying, why I cannot sleep, why I cannot get the vision of a nation’s leader senselessly murdered in front of his family out of my mind. I sit in front of the television with tears leaking ceaselessly from my scarlet eyes, thinking of Papa, Mother, Olga, Tatiana, Maria, Anastasia, Alexei. It’s like I’m back in Saint Petersburg. It’s like I’m learning they were slaughtered all over again.

Only Ben understands. He bundles me into his arms and presses his lips to my temple and whispers that I am safe, that our children are safe, that my family would be proud of me. It is the same way when Malcolm X is killed, and then Martin Luther King Jr., and then Bobby Kennedy. I am torn apart by the thought of their wives and children left bereft, left forever scarred by their murders. It guts me and leaves me bleeding for weeks.

We anonymously donate the last of the Romanov jewels to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. There is fierce public debate for years concerning who came to possess them and how. Each time there is a newspaper article or a television broadcast about the jewels, Ben and I share a small surreptitious smile. Signore Mazzello’s Pizzeria restaurants stretch from the Atlantic to the Pacific and boast over fifty locations. Joe leaves the business to his children to manage and retires with his wife to Atlantic City, New Jersey. He spends his days sunbathing on the beach, playing blackjack, eating cannoli, and gossiping with other Italians.

~~~~~~~~~~

It is July 13th, 1985. There are photographs of the loved ones we’ve lost on the mantle above the fireplace: Willis, Cecil, Louise, Ben’s mother…and there are even a few of Kroshka. The house is full of my children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, Ben’s siblings, our nieces and nephews and their children and their children, too. It is my great-grandson’s tenth birthday. His name—by pure coincidence—is Alexei.

There are children giggling and running through sprinklers in the backyard and basset hounds sniffing after crumbs of hors d'oeuvres and balloons everywhere. The living room is packed with people watching Queen’s performance at Live Aid on our single television, clapping along to Radio Ga Ga. Rami and Lucy arrive with the gift of a handmade sky-blue velvet suit. Joe and Christabella arrive with about twenty boxes of pizza. Ben and I and our two daughters are in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on Alexei’s birthday cake. It’s quite a challenge; Alexei loves dinosaurs, and the stegosaurus made of green icing has plenty of ragged edges to smooth out. Later, when Ben lights the candles, he will use a tarnished steel lighter with a bear carved into one side.

“Papa, Mum, have you seen this?” Tatiana, our eldest, asks. She holds open the pages of Time Magazine. “Some reporter based out of L.A. did a story on the Winter Palace. You know, where the Romanovs lived before they were deposed. He posed as a tourist and took a bunch of photos and smuggled them out of the Soviet Union, and now the Soviets are pissed. They don’t allow photography in the museum. And they definitely don’t want Americans capitalizing on their national historic sites. Anyway, check it out.” She turns the pages. Ben glances over at me. The butterknife has fallen out of my hand and onto the kitchen counter.

“Here, Mum, let me do that,” Louise offers. She plucks a clean knife out of the silverware drawer and resumes the meticulous sculpting of the stegosaurus.

“Amazing, huh?” Tati says, still flipping pages. They’re vivid, bright, in full color; they bring back memories I had forgotten I have. “There’s the Throne Room…the Malachite Room…the ballroom…the gardens…even the—”

“The private family rooms,” I murmur, dazed. “The bedrooms. The study. The dining room.”

“Yeah,” Tati replies. She’s still grinning, but her brow furrows. “Mum…are you okay?”

“She’s fine,” Ben says quickly. “She’s just tired. That stegosaurus has been giving us hell. I love the technique the reporter used here, opening with a vignette…”

Throughout the years, throughout the decades, as the century slips away from me, I have tried to avoid witnessing the calamities of my homeland: famines, purges, dictators, wars, censorship, rivalry, bloodshed and turmoil and insurmountable suffering. I barely recognize it at all; what was once Imperial Russia is now the Soviet Union, what was once Saint Petersburg is now Leningrad, what was once hope and the promise of a better future is now grim authoritarianism. I can still see my family in the Russian immigrants I helped settle here in New York City, but I don’t see them in the modern-day iteration of my birthplace.

But these pictures Tati is showing me, these memories…they are not from some failed, foreign land. They are the places where Papa puffed on his pipe and told us ancient folktales, where Mother read in her wheelchair, where Alexei played with his tiny toy soldiers on the rug in front of the fireplace, where my sisters and I stayed awake laughing and whispering until morning sunrays shone through our bedroom windows.

I reach out to touch the pictures with my fingertips. My hands are wrinkled, knobby, arthritic, just like Mother’s once were. Tati is still watching me, concerned.

“I know, it’s so beautiful, but so sad,” she says. “Knowing that the people who once lived there were murdered so brutally. Those poor kids. To have all this, and then to have nothing. It must have been a miserable last year for them.”

“They didn’t have nothing,” Ben tells Tati gently. “They had their family.”

“Yeah, but I mean…do royal families even really know each other? Don’t they just get together for polo games and tea parties and…I don’t know…arranged marriages?”

“The Romanovs knew each other.” Ben smooths my silver hair fondly. His hands shake a bit now, but they’re still strong, still perfect. His scars have faded with time; they are nearly invisible. It’s almost as if our pasts never happened. It’s almost as if we’ve always been the people we are now, here in the New World surrounded by friends and family and golden possibilities. “They were…a bit of an anomaly among royal families. Nicholas was very attentive to the children, very loving. And Alexandra was too, to the extent that she could be with her poor health. They did everything together. They went sledding and horseback riding and swimming, they told stories, they played games, they shared meals, they took care of each other. They hoped and they worked and they prayed. They tried to shield each other from the burdens the world placed on their backs. In a lot of ways…the Romanovs weren’t all that different from us.”

“Oh, wow,” Tati says, fascinated, awed. “I didn’t know that. They really must have been something.”

Ben looks over at me, smiling. “They were.”

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belle-keys · 1 year

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I'm the Letty anon that other anon @'ed. Sorry for writing this if it's annoying, this'll be the last time I'll speak on this.

Again, my problem with Letty is that Babel is a weird 21st century-19th century hybrid insofar as Kuang nitpicks what aspects of the story she wants to keep historically accurate or not so that her book can have most of the racism a POC would experience in the 1830s and largely none of the misogyny that suit that same time period. This, I feel, is a slight at both Letty and Victoire, and it may sound a petty complaint, but Kuang wrote a book with fucking footnotes every other page so I feel like I can be a bit petty.

The thing is, women weren't allowed at Oxford until the 1920s, POC men weren't allowed to study at Oxford until the 1870s. The first Black man to get a degree in British soil did so in the 1850s, when the Edinburgh Seven weren't allowed to get their medicine diploma in the 1870s because their faculty decided admitting them had been 'a mistake', even when one of them would've graduated suma cum laude (and that was only the cherry on top, because they weren't allowed to take classes in the same rooms as their peers, they were routinely the target of violent abuse, they had to pay higher fees, etc).

I'm not saying POC wouldn't be treated horribly, because that would be the same ahistorical perspective I'm criticising Kuang for. I'm just a bit mad that Babel is so shallow sometimes when it's promoted as dark academia, has fucking footnotes and Kuang spent pages arguing against claims of historical inaccuracies (she even explained why she'd used xyz treat common among poor folks as a delicacy the rich enjoy ffs).

Also, I'm not trying to be mean, but the white women/feminists/suffragettes who helped maintain imperialism would likely not be friends with POC to begin with, never mind attempt at protecting them (ball scene, Letty is ready to punch Pandennis for wanting to compare her and Victoire's nipples), hence why I say that Letty is strange and I daresay badly written, too, because stuff like her falling for Ramy and getting into contact with the father that has disowned her doesn't make any sense whatsoever.

Anyways, sorry for the spam. Anon, I'm not angry at you or whatever, just kinda frustrated by Babel because I waited a year for a book that ended up kinda disappointing me :)

So, there’s a lot going on here, but I think I expressed my own opinion about Letty as a caricature when I asnwered a few previous asks on the matter. I do agree the book is quite one-dimensional and shallow at times, but it’s set up so politically that highlighting the way it’s shallow actively goes against the central thesis of how white supremacy and British imperialism hurt people of colour and colonized nations. Letty is a rather unrealistic villainess, I agree, but regardless, Letty was a tool used to make a point about how white women and white feminism were actively hurting people of colour and colonized nations too. The original white feminists wanted equal power with white men and the ability to oppress POC the way rich white men did. And guess, what? That’s very much Letty. Letty is a tool to portray the worst parts of white feminism and upper class white womanhood. She’s really not a character at all.

Letty bides her time with the “colored folk” until she gets a chance to really choose where her loyalties lie aka not with them. Letty herself is a bit of a cartoonish character, but her actions ultimately seem quite realistic to me (aka the betrayal). You’re absolutely right that for a book that prides itself on research, it reads like the characters are millenials who were magically transported to the year 1830. It’s 2022 discourse transplanted to an 1830 setting. But Letty’s poor characterization doesn’t change what Kuang was trying to say or the point she was trying to make. And sometimes the message is more important than the execution in political novels. Kuang just went about it in a very unsubtle and Twitterish way, which is mostly okay in a politically-charged book like Babel. Once you, like me, don’t see the book as art or as a means of truly expanding consciousness, then these gimmicky tactics don’t bother you all that much.

But a word of unsolicited advice: I’d also redact that whole comparative paragraph about women and Black men at Oxford in this ask. It’s pretty irrelevant to compare the two when we’re talking about a novel where white women actively oppress MOC. It’s kinda giving “I missed the point”.

#babel #babel an arcane history #letitia price #rf kuang #colonization #victoire desgraves #ask #anon ask #dark academia #dark academia blog

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illfoandillfie · 2 years

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Making Art (Kinktober Day 14: Double Penetration)

Kinktober Masterlist | Regular Masterlist

Pairing: Fairy!Lucy Boynton x Reader x Fairy!Rami Malek (plus mentions of fairy ben and gwil)

Words: 3,320

Warnings: double penetration, sex slavery, oral sex (both m a f receiving), some pussy spanking, groping, groping while she’d unconscious (brief), public sex, sex with an audience, a lil bit of triple penetration, pornography, inspection, references to all the previous chapters lmao

A/N: Part of the Fairy AU. Couldn’t resist writing more of this tbh.

It was Gwilym’s idea to start. He’d mentioned it in passing when Lucy had first let him examine you but, apparently, she’d quite liked the idea. It served a dual purpose – get everyone excited about the upcoming bacchanal festival, and show off her power as their queen. No one could disapprove of a queen who not only protected them from a human but also subdued that human and turned her into a harmless sex doll. So, Lucy had told Gwilym to make the arrangements and before you knew it you were making a pornographic magazine. You were happy to do what Lucy asked but it had been an exhausting couple of weeks and you were glad to be near the end. The artist Gwilym hired, a tall, broad man with a patchy beard, was renowned for his pornographic creations. He’d done every sort of scene imaginable from sweet and soft to predatory and painful. Barely a fae existed who had not owned one of his works at some time or another because his catalogue was so diverse that you were nearly guaranteed to find something you liked. And when Lucy and Rami sat down to discuss options, they were thrilled with his vision. Together, they’d picked out important scenes the fae folk should see and over the last couple of weeks you’d filmed them all.

The first few days had been spent down by the mushroom ring where you’d entered the faerie world so long ago. You’d been given a black dress to wear, though it was artfully torn to expose enough of your body to titillate the people. A small taste of what was to come. The artist had sat down on a chair he’d brought down, pulled out a sketchpad and began using magic to create small samples of colours from the world around you. Then he’d posed you and made you stand while he sketched out his piece. It took a lot less time than you’d assumed it would but, as he’d explained to Lucy, he had to be fast to capture sexual scenes. “Sex can change in a second, especially where magic is concerned. I like my subjects to actually perform the acts I depict, instead of just simulating them. I give some direction but I like them to be natural so I’ve learnt to be quick enough to beat an orgasm. Of course, usually my subjects can do multiple takes but clean up in between can sometimes kill a mood so I try not to take too long.” His process seemed to consist of making sketches in his book that he’d take back to his workshop to finish on a larger scale. And then he’d apply a potion to the artwork which would create the movement, a small video on the pages of a magazine.

Once he’d satisfied himself with the arrival scene you’d moved on to the moment you were captured and taken to the queen. You’d thought perhaps actors would be hired but, again, you’d been wrong. Lucy was adamant that she should star in it herself, that if her people were going to see their queen dominate a human they should really see it. When you showed your surprise and told her that world leaders in the human world could lose their jobs because of sex scandals, she’d laughed and reminded you the fae folk thought very differently. A former beloved King of the faeries had released a sex tape every Yuletime as a gift to his people and others before him had had their likeness captured in erotic portraits or wrote heavy tomes detailing their lusty escapades. This was going to be part of her legacy. And, as such, she would personally pose for her scenes, as would anyone else involved. Which meant that you were joined in the mushroom ring by Benjamin and a few of his soldiers. The artist recorded Ben knocking you out with pixie dust as his soldiers held you and then, while you were passed out, each of them had their chance to feel you up, tearing your clothes more in the process. With multiple people in the scene, the artist required a few extra takes and so you found yourself being alternately woken and made unconscious three or four times in a row before he was satisfied. And there wasn’t really any way to tell how long you were out for any one time. All you knew was that you’d been touched by the men, your pussy a little wetter each time you woke. But, eventually, the artist was satisfied and everyone moved to the throne room to perform your presentation to Lucy. You knelt on the floor, arms bound behind your back and a strip of fabric gagging you, as Lucy stood over you and grabbed your face, menacingly examining her prey while Ben and his men watched. After that you, Lucy, and the artist moved down to the room with the stone dais, so you cold recreate the moment she tricked you into eating her out and thus became your owner. It felt a little odd performing such an act with the audience of the artist but you soon forgot he was there, all your attention on pleasing your queen.

The artist was the talk of the castle since most weren’t privy to his sessions. His reputation as one of the fae world’s leading erotic directors assured that everyone was interested in what he was doing in the castle. At first the rumour mill said he was creating portraits of the king and queen, which they would exchange as gifts on their wedding day. But, as the week wore on and more people became involved, the speculation got closer to the truth. Your first feast in the castle was re-created, though the hall was empty save for those important people who sat beside the Queen. Naturally there needed to be a depiction of Lucy presenting you to her courtiers, her fairness and your forced submission on display, but she couldn’t single anyone out without creating jealous conflicts or fuelling rivalries. So, instead, one of Lucy’s maids was dressed up in place of a noble woman and you were introduced to her as you had been introduced to Lucy’s subjects on that night. And, of course, Rami had fun bending you over the long table again. After that Gwilym agreed to give away a couple of his secrets and performed a small examination of you for the artist. Nothing so thorough as you were used to but it allowed him to get some detailed sketches of your tits and then your pussy being fingered and fucked. The detailed shot of your arse came when he sketched you being trained – plugged and chained to the wall while you fellated one of your dildos, Lucy just beside you, ready to punish you if need be.

And then there was a night where you were taken to the woods. The story of your brazen escape attempt while your queen was in a neighbouring land. Benjamin got to play the hero, capturing you and dealing you a severe punishment in the dungeons. You didn’t dare point out the story was fake. That he’d actually made you run through the woods at night so he could hunt you down. You knew that Lucy was likely the only one who’d believe you and she’d just point out the escape made a better story. That you would be the wicked human who tried and failed to outwit the Queen’s men. It’d make her and those she trusted most seem more powerful, more reliable. It’d make it seem like turning you into her obedient pet was harder than it had been and yet she’d still succeeded. She used a similar reason when she agreed to a scene where a small group of maids took liberties with you while bathing and readying you for your duties. Tiana starred alongside you in that scene and you couldn’t help but feel quite flustered by her presence. Especially when Lucy declared she’d enjoy watching Tiana use you.

But, finally, it seemed as if the artist had almost got everything he needed. He wanted some final pages that showed how Lucy had successfully conditioned you to behave. That she’d beaten the human and now you were her willing slave. That showed her and her soon to be king consort as the powerful leaders the fae folk deserved. So he needed some shots of Lucy and Rami sharing you, dominating you together. The artist didn’t have anything specific in mind. He was happy to watch things play out naturally, quickly sketching what he saw. It started with you on your hands and knees, Lucy fingering you as Rami and the artist watched on. By then you were well and truly accustomed to being watched by the artist, so it took no time at all for Lucy to declare you ready for her cock as she summoned a dildo, her favourite one to fuck you with. She set it up and slid into you, making you moan from the first thrust. “Good girl,” she cooed at you, “but your whore sounds will wake the whole castle. Rami, shut her up.” Her sweet tone turned authoritative and almost mean as she gave your arse a slap. The sharp sting made you gasp right as Rami grabbed you by the hair, holding you still as he pressed his cock into your mouth. He made you gag, holding you down as the artist hastily sketched the position. “Don’t stop on my account,” the artist said, flipping to a blank page, “Do what you will to the whore.” Rami didn’t need to be told twice, pulling out enough so you could gasp for breath before thrusting into your throat again. He didn’t need to push you all the way down, Lucy had found a rhythm that did it for him, forcing you to his base with each stroke of her strapon. When it started to feel like you didn’t have enough breath to continue you tried to pull back, but Rami tugged on your hair and Lucy leaned forward, stopping you from moving at all as she shushed you and whispered in your ear. “Uh uh, pet. Rami likes your throat too much. Tell him you like his cock too.” You moaned, tears in your eyes as you tried not to panic. “That’s right,” she said sweetly, “you’ve gotten so much better at swallowing cock, haven’t you?” You tried to moan again but were interrupted by a wet gag which made Rami’s hips buck. Lucy laughed as she tugged you backwards, drool running down your chin as you took a few hasty breaths. “Do you like it when she gags, my love?” “Mmhmm,” Rami groaned, “Feels so good.” “Hear that Pet?” She shoved you back down his length, her cock jerking in your cunt, “Keep gagging or else.” They didn’t give you much choice in the matter, though you would have forced yourself to gag even if they had. Lucy grabbed your hips as she began fucking you properly again, each stroke deep and hard and matching the way Rami was fucking your throat. They were nearly always in sync, though the closer Rami got the more he jerked and twitched and fell out of time. But that just made it harder for you to keep up with and more likely he’d force you to gag or choke again. You could barely hear the scratch of the artist’s pencil over all the wet sounds the two of them were pulling from you. Especially once Rami started groaning with how close he was getting. Lucy made sure to degradingly praise you, remarking on what an obedient toy you were and how easy it was to use you. But she also threw out commands too, reminding everyone that she was the one in charge and that you belonged to her. As Rami got closer Lucy told you to get him off so you started trying to moan again, in between the gags he still enjoyed hearing. Lucy’s hand slid underneath you, her fingers finding your clit quickly, “You can do better than that whore. Here I’ll help.” There was a sudden electric tingle as Lucy released a bolt of magic directly against your clit. It was like a vibrator but so much stronger and you were forced to cum, moaning around Rami as the pleasure kept going.

The sensation on stopped when Rami came, his cock twitching as he emptied himself into your mouth. But you made sure to swallow everything, not wanting to disappoint. Rami hummed as you kept sucking on him, making sure he’d completely finished, and then pulled out, slapping your cheek with his still hard cock. “That was hot,” Lucy gave another thrust, a reminder that she was not through with you yet, “I think I want to see you cum again.” She pushed you down then, working up to a punishing pace she hadn’t been able to achieve while sharing you with Rami. And then there was another bolt of magic. It sank into your skin from both her palms, the tingly heat rising in you as you moaned into the sheets, your cunt clenching around her dildo as she forced you to cum again. Lucy’s hips slowed as you tightened, making it harder for her to move inside you. And then, as it began to subside and you tried to catch your breath, it started up again. A few thrusts of Lucy’s cock and then you were cumming again, muscles tightening and pussy dripping, before you were ready. Lucy rubbed her own clit as she watched you writhe, getting off on your whines as you became more sensitive. It only stopped when she came. “How was that?” she asked the artist. “Incredible, your highness.” He discreetly palmed himself. "Excellent. But, I was thinking it might be useful if you had some options. Maybe a couple of other positions to choose from. We want the people to have the very best examples of my pet’s obedience, don’t we?” “That we do,” the artist agreed quickly, his eyes raking over your exposed pussy, “Might I suggest this time you’re a little meaner to her? Really show off how you’ve put her in her place.” “Good idea.” Lucy clapped her hands together excitedly, “Rami dear, why don’t you fuck her arse. I’ll keep using her cunt for now.” You whined as you felt yourself being grabbed and manhandled into position. Rami sat on the edge of the bed and pushed you to bend as he removed your plug, and then you were unceremoniously pulled onto his shaft. Either he or Lucy had magically conjured enough lube that he slipped into you with relative ease, but it was still a little uncomfortable at first. Neither of them seemed to notice or care when you whimpered though. Rami just thrust up into you, working himself deeper into your arse. Lucy gave him a minute or so to get adjusted, giggling when he groaned about how tight you were. But she didn’t hold off for too long before she was pushing your legs wider and sliding into your cunt.

You still felt sensitive from the orgasms she’d forced you to have but it was a complement that Lucy wanted your cunt again. “Thank you, my queen,” you gasped out she eased deeper. Lucy smiled and tucked your hair behind your ear and then gave a hard thrust that made you whimper. “Don’t worry, whore, I’ll make sure you’ll enjoy this.” There was a pause and then she added, “or else.” with a playful laugh. You didn’t have time to react because both Rami and Lucy started thrusting into you then. They’d shared you like this before but the overwhelming fullness of both of them still took some getting used to. All you could do was try to breathe as they put on a show of dominating you, roughly using your holes. They expected a display of gratitude from you, ordering you to moan more so they knew you liked being their fuck toy. And when your moan stuttered out after a particularly hard thrust, Lucy decided you needed the help and forced another orgasm from you. It made you whine with how sensitive you were, tears in your eyes, but she just slapped your cheek. “You better not be complaining.” “I’m not,” you whimpered, “I love this.” “Hear that Rami, she loves this.” Rami groaned from behind you, “As she should.” Lucy just hummed in agreement as she leaned forward to kiss him over your shoulder. The shift forced her to bottom out in your cunt and Rami must have felt how deep she was because he groaned and came suddenly. “Can I have your cum too my queen?” you asked, breathless and desperate to please. “Not like this. But yes.” She pulled out, the sudden emptiness almost as bad as being stimulated when you were already over sensitive.

You were once again manhandled, dropped into the middle of the bed. Lucy unfastened the dildo and pressed it into your ass as Rami cleaned himself up. She was quick to mount your face, her cunt nearly dripping from how much she’d enjoyed using you. You eagerly lapped at her folds. It was your favourite part of being her pet. She’d taught you to enjoy being shared, to enjoy taking cock in every hole. But you loved her pussy. You loved pleasuring her like that. And she knew as much. This was a reward for being good for the artist. Lucy came quickly, you made sure of it, but she just kept rocking against your mouth. So you moaned into her, wanting her to know how much you enjoyed being under her. Rami didn’t waste much time either. Your cunt was now free, begging to be filled again, so he settled between your thighs without a word. You felt Lucy lean forward to kiss him again but it was just a quick peck and she soon settled back to hump your mouth as he enthusiastically fucked you. It made you moan again which just made Lucy grind harder. But the two cocks filling you were a touch distracting and Lucy needed to remind you that you were meant to be getting her off. She spanked your sore, overstimulated, pussy. You cried out, the sound muffled of course, but redoubled your efforts, apologising for getting distracted with your tongue. She seemed to accept it and moaned prettily as she came again. But she still wasn’t done.

Rami came again before she was satisfied. He pulled out so he could coat your cunt in his semen before shoving his cock back inside. The artist made a sound of joy at the sight of the mess. “That is the perfect way to close off the magazine. But...perhaps one more load. So it’s obvious how much you use her.” You only took notice of the conversation when Lucy, having cum again, climbed off your face. “Would you like to help?” You turned your head to see the artist, hand on his chest asking, “me?” “Of course you.” Lucy laughed, “you’ve done so much for us these last weeks. Seems only fair that you get a first hand idea of how well trained our pet is.” She turned to you, “Be a good girl and suck him off.” You didn’t need to be told twice, already opening your mouth before she’d finished giving the order. Lucy picked up the sketchbook and flicked through it as the two men took their turns, the dildo still fucking your arse, “These are going to be incredible when they’re finished. But I think you’re right, she does need to be made a proper mess so everyone knows how much of a cumwhore we’ve made her.”

#my writing #my fics #lucy boynton x reader #lucy boynton smut #lucy boynton imagine #rami malek x reader #rami malek smut #rami malek imagine #hopefully it all makes sense #wrote the ending in a rush cause i gotta leave for the dentist in like 15mins and im not even dressed yet ksfjsjflsf

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taminoarticles · 2 years

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— Tamino and Ramy for Knack Focus, 2018 (x)

Tamino & Ramy, Mortsel's most successful brother couple: 'Together we can do nothing bad'

Kristof Dalle 16-10-2018, 14:00 Updated on: 23-04-2022, 08:01

One is 21 and storms the sky with Amir, his debut album. The other is 18 and determines the international image of his brother from his room in Mortsel as a house photographer, director and all-round creative director. Ramy and Tamino-Amir Moharam Fouad, Mortsel's most successful family business. "There is both a romantic young soul and a nihilistic old man in me."

“When I was fourteen, I was a bit of an asshole. The classic adolescent rebellion to rebel, especially at school.'

'At school? Especially to me, yes, Tamino. I often asked Mom to send you to boarding school after all. Really very often. Well, it's clearly all worked out.'

Eighteen months after he forced his breakthrough with Habibi and was proclaimed laureate of De Nieuwe Lichting, there is still no measure of Tamino-Amir Moharam Fouad. Last month he received the Anchor Award for up-and-coming talent together with Faces on TV at the Reeperbahn Festival in Hamburg, this week Amir , his debut album, is on the shelves. Mesmerizing listening songs – as usual – peppered with Middle Eastern elements. Younger brother and film student at Sint-Lukas Brussels Ramy – 'Feel free to call him my creative director', says Tamino – provided the artwork and accompanying clips, just as he did for Blackwave , Emma Bale and Portland. Memo: one brother is 21, the other 18.

Say Ramy, you sure like that cameo as a woman, huh? Tamino

'Now that Tamino is really going international, I receive daily emails from America or Australia about artwork or promotional material', says Ramy. 'It was just about posters in the Paris metro. Crazy, if you think about it. Nothing goes on without my approval. I try to keep the overview, so that Tamino doesn't have to worry too much about it. That way he can remain a bit of a dreamy artist.'

Ramy's words whirl through the Antwerp Bar Vert. The eighteen-year-old speaks with the same confidence as his older brother, albeit much more softly and without too much intonation. It's eleven o'clock in the morning, or you would almost think that… 'I choked? Well, I hear that often.' Tamino laughs. “In high school they called him out because he was supposed to be stoned in class every day. Not so. Ramy is just extremely zen.'

Useful. Especially because at the age of eighteen, Ramy already largely controls your international image. You'd get nervous for less.

Ramy Moharam Fouad: (grins) There's a lot of pressure on me, but that's how I like it.

Tamino Moharam Fouad: I know. That also makes me feel less guilty for putting so much burden on your shoulders. We're just a good team.

Ramy: Together we can't make anything bad, I really believe that. We don't give up until it's right.

Has directing always been your calling, Ramy?

Ramy: No. Tamino would be the director, I the actor. I went to drama school from the age of eight to seventeen. Tamino was already writing pieces when he was ten and let me play them. I loved doing that.

Tamino: You just didn't know any better. It's also not that hard to get a six-year-old to play a knight who has to save the world. (laugh)

Ramy: It wasn't until I was fifteen that I became interested in photography – I did the artwork for Tamino's entrance exam at the Conservatory of Amsterdam – and later also in directing. The more behind the scenes documentaries I saw, the more that side of the business started to attract me.

In 2016 you shot the short film Damonia , of which your brother was responsible for a good part of the soundtrack. Damonia deals with dementia. What possesses a young fellow to tackle a theme that is – presumably – very far from his bed?

Ramy: When I first started photography, when I was 15, a friend of Mom's asked me if I wanted to make a series of portraits of her demented grandmother Godelieve as a keepsake. Tough, but I wanted to try. In the end it turned out to be a really nice day. Clear or not, she clearly enjoyed modeling. Her husband was also a photographer, she told me. He was currently in Africa but soon had an exhibition nearby. Her husband had died two years earlier. A day later I received a message from her granddaughter: Godelieve had died that night. I remember that I immediately thought of Damonia like crazyI have begun to write about a woman who longs in vain for her husband's return. That was the first time I felt such a compulsion: I had to tell that story, and photos alone wouldn't get me there.

Today you will also be directing your brother's clips, most recently Persephone's, in which Tamino sings to his beloved as Hades. It is remarkably understated compared to your earlier work.

Ramy: I wanted to portray the Persephone myth quite subtly, since the song is already very heavy and full of symbolism anyway. Although it had to be an intense viewing experience at the same time. For some, it might be too much of a good thing, but hey, so be it.

Tamino: The same goes for the song itself: it asks a lot of the listener. Which essentially gives you free rein for the accompanying clip.

We now know that Tamino works quite uncompromisingly. But apparently it's a family trait?

Tamino: I'm stubborn, but Ramy is at least twice as bad. Which also strikes me as a good quality for an artist. Although it is still a punishment how he cannot be dismissed from his vision at the age of eighteen. Even if that sometimes makes the collaborations very intense.

Do you always pull the same rope on set?

Tamino: We're always on the same side, yes. (…) What are you laughing at now?

Ramy: What about Cigar ? It's true that we're usually on the same page, but in the run-up to that clip he must have invaded my room at least five times. "Hey Ramy, you're sure about my cameo as a woman, aren't you?" "Yes, Tamino." "But really, huh?"

Tamino: I don't mind walking around in women's clothes. But it had to match the rest of the story. And I wanted to be a beautiful woman. (laughs)

Ramy: Come on, Tamino, you really are a beautiful woman.

Come Tamino, you are a beautiful woman. Ramy

Remarkably, that was still an issue in the first place. Last year you told in this magazine how liberating it was to be raised only by your mother and you never had to hide your feminine side, like your falsetto voice.

Tamino: That was also very liberating. And again, I actually really like to show up in women's clothes, but it wasn't supposed to look like a joke. It was also true: we asked the girls in the clip to dress up as nineteenth-century prostitutes, so putting on a skirt was the least I could do.

Ramy: I think I have that feminine in me even more than Tamino. Largely because Mommy raised us alone.

Tamino: You have a certain softness that you could possibly call feminine. But at the same time – if we think in traditional roles – a hardness and stubbornness that is just very masculine.

In the clip of Tummy, Ramy portrays you as a living pharaoh statue. No matter how much you try to wash off the gold paint at night, every morning, ad aeternam you still wake up like a shining pharaoh. A quite literal nod to the exaggerated emphasis on your roots and your grandfather, the famous Egyptian singer Moharam Fouad?

Ramy: That's one of the elements. That clip is a good summary of the record for me. 'Amir' means 'prince' in Arabic. A prince has no choice, he is born that way. The same goes for musicians. You can't run away from who you are.

Tamino: The choice for that pharaoh was of course obvious. It remains very strange, the realization that when people hear that I am a half-Egyptian musician, they still automatically think of pyramids and sphinxes. (dry) There are really very few pyramids in my music. When I think of Egyptian music, it is, for example, a firqa, an extensive Middle Eastern orchestra that includes oud and ney players, the kind my grandfather, or Umm Kulthum, also performed with.

That clip made me feel somewhat sorry for Tamino, who tries little successfully to escape from all the attention. Was that the intended emotion?

Ramy: No. But I do like to hear it .

Tamino: It's been going really fast for me for a year and a half now, but I can't complain about that, can I? This is what I've wanted to do all my life, there's never been another option. At the same time, I understand Tom Waits when he says: 'It's funny how you want to get people's attention. But when you get it, you want people to fuck off.' And I'm not talking about the fans, but about all the noise: the appointments, the promo, the flow of emails...

You did incorporate your grandfather's music into the record.

Tamino: Inne Eysermans of Amatorski set to work with Moharam's music. She took a couple of my grandfather's cassettes, worked on them overnight, and by morning she had thirty wacky new soundscapes ready. I don't understand how she does it at all. Pure wizard. I can only listen to it with my mouth open.

I am also glad that I could be guided by a Brussels firqa. Until then I just had some arrangements in my music program, then suddenly everything fell together. They had previously asked me to perform with them with my grandfather's music. But I really didn't feel ready for that: I don't know Arabic and I'm not schooled in that music at all.

Have you already performed in Egypt?

Tamino: No, and if I ever play there, it won't be obvious. With my legacy.

As the grandson of the Egyptian Frank Sinatra.

Tamino: I am very happy that I could start in a country where hardly anyone knows who Moharam Fouad was. Because even before I can sing a note, the average Egyptian will have formed an image of how I should sound. My father was never able to cash in on his singing career in Egypt: he always remained 'the son of'.

Which song on Amir do you want to work on, Ramy?

Ramy: Chambers. Strong song, sticks and I immediately had a lot of images in my head. Not everyone on the team was a fan of that song, but I was very resolute against it.

Tamino: There's a good clip in that, yes. I draw parallels between relationships and a battlefield, how you can sometimes oppose each other as two armies. 'In your feigned retreat I'll follow blindly in defeat.' Napoleon was also defeated: 'Tiens, the British are on the run? We're going after it!'

Ramy: (smiles) I get goosebumps when he quotes from it. I have that too with Will of This Heart.

A song about how someone dragged you out of a dark period.

Tamino: Something, not someone. Love, and how it can get you out of a deep valley but also make you soar so high that you become vulnerable again. 'No one else could match your flavor.' I would never sing that about a person. (laughter) Be a little realistic. Verses is a love song to someone, in the purest sense, inspired by The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran.

Together we can do nothing bad, I really believe that. We don't give up until it's right. Ramy Moharam Fouad

The Prophet must be pretty much your favorite book. In the foreword, Gibran's work is described as 'a romantic rebellion in a cold world'. Do you see yourself that way too?

Tamino: I don't so much rebel against a cold world, but rather against my own nihilism. Amir is one big contrast between the romantic and the apathetic. I really want to surrender – 'fuck it, you get everything, you get me completely' – but often I don't feel anything at all. A song like So It Goes is about that, about how you don't seem to notice the beauty around you at all. (thinks) There is both a romantic young soul and a nihilistic old man in me.

Ramy: I recognize it in myself too, although I would call it focus rather than nihilism. When I'm in a flow, I'm anything but social.

Tamino: That's why I haven't changed a bit in the last year. I'm just working, I wouldn't even know where to schedule diva scenes in my calendar. (laugh) In order to get everything done, you have to flatten yourself. I see a lot of artists who struggle with that. Understandable. Artists are not made to flatten themselves.

Is that why you're both up so early? The questionable talent to flatten everything where necessary.

Tamino: No. Nihilism kills everything, it is of little use to you. We owe a lot to Mom, who always left us free to do what we wanted to do. And besides that, Ramy and I just share a certain passion and willingness to sacrifice everything for that. Coming back to Tummy: if you're born with a calling, a talent, or whatever you want to call it, you can't help but feel it. If you're lucky enough that everything falls into place, then you don't let that slip out of your hands, do you? Then you just grow up very quickly.

Ramy: It's a very strange realization, but I haven't really felt like a student for a day. I'm just going with Tamino's rhythm. Fortunately, I can do a lot from my room, while he has to stand on it every day, facing the outside world. (thinks) Everyone says we're old souls.

Tamino: (half admonishing) Ramy, you don't say that about yourself.

Ramy: People say: 'Ramy, you are so young. Enjoy life anyway.' But this is my way of enjoying it. I feel physically bad if I don't get the most out of a day.

I hope to make a feature film someday. I look up to Xavier Dolan, but even harder to Spike Jonze. Ramy Moharam Fouad

Tamino: I have a hard time enjoying the fleeting things. Drinking wine on a terrace? A sun holiday at a swimming pool? Mumps. It's fun at the moment, but it doesn't stop there. Gibran says, "Labour is love made visible." That's right. It gives life meaning.

At eighteen you already have a vision of the direction you want to go, Ramy – if you have to choose?

Ramy: I hope to be able to play a full-length one day. And after a year of mainly video clips, I now really feel the need to work out my own project again.

Tamino: You're a storyteller. While a video clip, just like a song, is at most a sketch. You can never put everything into that.

Ramy: In three minutes I can lose my egg. Clips are also very grateful, because you do get a response. Let's be honest: such a short film is fantastic to make, but you know that you will never reach a large audience with it. I now have to redo my first year at Sint-Lukas – Tamino was my biggest priority this year – but of course I don't regret it for a second. I couldn't imagine a better school.

Reportedly, you mainly look up to Canadian director Xavier Dolan.

Ramy: It's hard not to admire Dolan, isn't it. There are very few directors who have already shot five relevant, intelligent films before the age of twenty-five. Although today I look even more up to Spike Jonze (director of Her and Being John Malkovich, ed.) Dolan's rawer work is very interesting, but I lean more towards Jonze's magical realism, creating a reality within reality. Damonia and my video clips always have such a dreamy atmosphere.

I understand. Jonze also started with video clips. And Jackass of course. I can still see you doing that. Tamino

Tamino: I get it. Jonze also started shooting music videos before shooting great movies. And Jackass of course. I can still see Ramy doing that. (laughs)

Ramy: First we have to make that animation sequence that you came up with. Walking Stick Charlie , about the adventures of a stick insect.

Tamino: Soon someone else will be walking along. But admit it's a good idea? Not least because such a stick insect reduces the animation costs enormously.

#tamino #tamino amir #ramy moharam fouad #knack focus #article #interview #dutch #2018 #with photoshoot #english translated text #photo from vk

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deakyjoe · 1 year

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About Me:

Name: EJ

Age: 19 (painfully gen z)

Pronouns: she/her

Location: UK (Bri’ish innit)

Sexual orientation: bisexual

Occupation: student, studying for BA in film studies (1st year)

MBTI: INTJ (architect)

Likes: reading, writing, watching stuff, Marvel (especially Spider-Man), Star Wars (especially The Mandalorian), horror (especially Saw), music, musicals (especially Beetlejuice)

Current main interests (constantly changing): Pedro Pascal (+ filmography), Leigh Whannell (+ filmography), Saw, The Mandalorian, The Last of Us, Call of Duty, Heath Ledger (always), Star Wars

Current read: Haunting Adeline by H. D. Carlton (ebook), Ghost Radio by Leopoldo Gout (audiobook)

Current watch: The Mandalorian (weekly), Beyond Paradise (weekly), Narcos, Young Dracula (rewatch), Louis Theroux Documentaries, 911: Lone Star (weekly), Gogglebox (weekly)

Favourite films: Tangled, 10 Things I Hate About You, Jaws, Saw, Jurassic Park, The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent, Get Out, Top Gun, Prospect, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, Brokeback Mountain, A Knight’s Tale, Knight & Day, The Social Network, Bohemian Rhapsody, The Princess Bride, American Psycho, Clueless, Legally Blonde, Jennifer’s Body, Some Like It Hot, Little Miss Sunshine, The Martian, Final Destination, The Batman, Heathers, Mamma Mia

Favourite shows: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Mandalorian, Friends, Criminal Minds, Sex Education, Stranger Things, The Big Bang Theory, Ghosts, Doctor Who, Merlin, Fleabag, Miranda, 911, 911: Lone Star, I Am Not Okay With This, Bones, The Mentalist, Death in Paradise, Narcos

Favourite actors (changes regularly): Pedro Pascal, Paul Dano, Heath Ledger, Leigh Whannell, Nicolas Cage, Jake Gyllenhaal, Viola Davis, Keke Palmer, Lupita Nyong’o, Lucy Liu, Gemma Chan, Joe Mazzello, Rami Malek, Stanley Tucci, Samuel L. Jackson, Willem Dafoe, Keanu Reeves, Queen Latifah, Angela Bassett, Jane Lynch, Tracie Thoms

Favourite YouTube channels (a lot of movie commentators): Aaron and Jo, Dylan Is In Trouble, MacDoesIt, Pretty Much It, Trin Lovell

Favourite music artists: Mook, Queen, ABBA, Olly Murs, P!nk, The Beach Boys, Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons, Elvis Presley

Favourite books: Stalking Jack the Ripper by Kerri Maniscalco, Forget Me Not by Karissa Kinword, The Martian by Andy Weir, From Lukov with Love by Mariana Zapata, The Mindf*ck Series by S. T. Abby, Abandon by Meg Cabot, Aristotle & Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz, The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman, If We Were Villains by M. L. Rio, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V. E. Schwab, Once Upon a Broken Heart by Stephanie Garber, Twilight by Stephanie Meyer

This is just some generic information about me. Always feel free to ask questions if you want to know more :)

Uhhhh what else do you want to know?

#ej #nonsense by ej #ej waffles #ej’s musings #about me

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zmediaoutlet · 1 year

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happy ww, z! i'm gonna throw your question back at you, because it's a fabulous one and i'm very curious about the answer: what are some things that *you* love that you think Sam/Dean would like too?

happy wincest wednesday with the uno reverse card! hmm -- this is actually pretty hard, haha, because I try to resist this as much as I can when I'm writing... but hell, let's do it:

music: I still think Sam basically doesn't like music. Sorry. I mean he's not like a superfreak, of course there are songs he likes more or less than others, plus he's got that whole weird 80s glam thing he's apparently into, but -- I think generally speaking it would not *occur* to Sam to put music on most of the time, he's not searching it out, etc etc. Music is Dean's sphere. So, related to that, (self-indulgence projection time) I think that Dean might have liked the early 90s grunge scene more than he might have let on. It's easy to have him say 'ugh, those dudes are all whining about their feelings -- what are they, chicks?' -- and he may have legit thought that about Kurt Cobain, lol -- but some of the heavier Pearl Jam/Alice in Chains/Soundgarden/Mudhoney songs might have pulled him in when they played on the radio, and then he might have found himself singing along to lyrics that weren't just fast car/pussy magnet etc but something like something's gotta turn out right, and... He had a lot of reasons to love grunge in the early 90s, let's just say that, lol.

books: I think Sam read a SHITLOAD of crappy fantasy novels with those gleaming-tattered covers as a kid. I mean, he was gonna read the Game of Thrones books -- that's clue enough. David Eddings, Anne McCaffrey, the whole shebang. And even when he got a little older and realized how many of them were basically copy-paste trope adventures, I think he still really loved them because they were... simple, and the monsters got dealt with, and magic helped, and the day was saved. (This is the same reason Dean loves action movies.) ((Here I guess I will tack on my Dean-and-reading headcanon, though it's not a z-projection: much as music is Dean's sphere, Dean feels that academics/reading is Sam's sphere, and he's specifically a little embarrassed to read for fun, which is specifically why Sam's always surprised when Dean mentions reading something at all -- so, he also reads, but mostly only when he's alone, and what he reads is stuff that has strong emotional utility -- aka westerns and poppy sci-fi and easy murder mysteries and romance novels. He wants a day to be saved, too.))

movies: idk if this counts as projection because I think it's pretty borne out by canon, but both Sam and Dean love the whole range of 70s-80s comedies that came out when they were kids and they can quote large chunks of them. Mel Brooks, Harold Ramis, National Lampoon, old SNL Best Ofs they put out on VHS, etc -- this is the language that wraps around how Dean talks, and even if Sam doesn't drop lines as much he understands the context and meaning whenever Dean does and it doesn't even count, really, as joking when they do it -- it's just how words work. It's good to be the king. Cheeburgah cheeburgah cheeburgah. When someone asks you if you're a god, you say YES. (that last one would come in handy with Jack.)

#answers #happy wincest wednesday #thank you for the reverse card!#made me actually articulate something about movies-as-language #how the vocabulary of them really seats inside your own #and you realize you're saying stuff without it even being a conscious reference #but you have to be speaking with a knowledgeable and equal interlocutor for it to be parsed correctly #and *that* is z-projection #my bff had to watch like 15 movies before she totally understood how my family talked lol #and if that don't sound like dean winchester--

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mercurysnitch · 2 years

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Mother Mercury Part 5: The Show Must Go On

Summary: Trouble is brewing when Mel returns to the set of Bohemian Rhapsody after Thanksgiving break. Christmas is a turning point for Mel and Ben, and the end of filming might just have a few surprises in store.

A/N: Yes, it’s finally here. As previously mentioned, this is the last part of this story, three years and a pandemic after I started it. I do have an idea for a final epilogue chapter, but I'm not convinced I’ll ever get around to writing it. But I may post some “headcanons” of where I was planning for this story to go at some point.

Despite the long gaps between parts this story kept my mind somewhat occupied during multiple lockdowns even though very little of those thoughts ever actually made it onto the page, so I suppose I’m grateful for that.

This part covers the rest of Bohemian Rhapsody filming and a bit extra, so the story’s ending a bit earlier than I initially planned, but I think it works. The filming timeline might not be entirely historically accurate but at the end of the day, this is my fic so the timeline is whatever I say it is.

Not a lot of Eve in this one, but there’s some guest appearances to make up for it. Including, finally, the other surviving member of Queen finally turning up on-screen after many mentions in previous parts. Title is obviously from the Queen song.

The only warning for this one is mentions of illness, I think. Also as usual I think the English and American slang is accurate but I am neither of those things so it’s probably not perfect. Apologies if any Australianisms have snuck in, I try to avoid them but sometimes they’re not obvious.

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Previously on Mother Mercury: The Bo Rhap cast has been introduced to Freddie’s granddaughter Mel, who’s working in the wardrobe department, and her mother Eve. Ben and Mel are going out, and he was invited to Eve’s for Thanksgiving, but no one on set knows they’re together. Also, the director’s a pill.

Mel was feeling quite refreshed after the Thanksgiving break, and she knew the band were looking forward to getting back together. But when she and Ben finally arrived to set on the first morning back, there was a rather unwelcome surprise waiting for them.

The set was never far from organised chaos at the best of times, but that morning nearly everything seemed to be in total disarray. Even Barbara looked worried when Mel arrived at the wardrobe department to start her day.

“What’s going on?” she asked, suddenly concerned. “Our esteemed director hasn’t arrived yet” Barbara informed her, voice dripping with contempt. “And no-one’s heard from him. No one even knows where he is.” “Christ” Mel exclaimed. “So are we still running today, or…?” Barbara just shrugged. “If he’s not here soon we’ll have to shut down for today, nothing’s been properly organised.” “And after that?” Mel asked. “The word is if he doesn’t surface soon he’ll be sacked” Barbara replied conspiratorially. Not a minute too soon, Mel thought.

It was a strange, unsettled day. The assistant directors did what they could, but it was hard to make progress when no one really knew what they were supposed to be doing. After noon arrived with no sign of the director arriving on set, the decision was made to shut down for the day. Some of the most senior crew stayed on to do some contingency planning for the next few days, but everyone else was sent home. None of the cast were exactly happy with this news, but Joe was particularly unimpressed.

“Seriously? This bullshit again? Honestly, I don’t care what this guy’s resume is like, he’s a seriously shitty director right now. Like, does he just not give a shit about all the time and money he’s wasted? And putting everything on the A.D. s all the time, that’s just disrespectful, like, their job isn’t to do his job for him.” “We know, Joe” Gwilym said gently. “You think you’d be better?” Rami joked. Joe looked alarmed. “God, no, I directed one tiny indie with like half a crew, I wouldn’t have a clue what to do on a big production like this.” Suddenly he looked wistful. “Maybe one day, though.”

Lacking anything better to do, the band decided to decamp to Rami's hotel for the afternoon to have a proper post-break catch up. Lucy and Allen were also invited, along with Mel. She was pleased to be included, though she could have sworn she saw a hint of a smirk on Joe's face when he extended the invitation.

At any rate, mid-afternoon found the gang scattered through Rami's deluxe suite, chatting about what they'd been up to during the break. Allen and Gwilym had enjoyed a bit of time off with their partners, while Lucy had taken the opportunity to catch up with a few friends. Rami and Joe had of course gone home to spend the holiday with their families, which for Joe had been extremely bittersweet due to his father's illness.

"I just… He was so much worse than when I left" Joe explained. "I think… I knew he was getting sicker before I left, but it’s just so obvious how much he’s deteriorated while I’ve been away, and I..." At that Joe began to break down, leaning into Rami who embraced him tightly, whispering words of comfort the others couldn't hear. "We're all here for you, mate, anything you need" Gwilym added softly. Joe pulled back, smiling slightly. "Thanks guys" he told them. "But right now I need to not think about it for a while, so Ben, what did you do last week?"

Ben's eyes widened in horror. He'd spent most of the week with Mel, of course, but he could hardly tell everyone that without explaining why. "I, uh,…" he stammered, looking desperately to Mel for support. She merely grinned mischievously. “Y'know, we could just tell them” she said evenly, largely unperturbed. “We’re official now, we have to tell them at some point.” “You sure?” Ben checked. Mel nodded. “Alright then” Ben agreed. He grinned in anticipation. "I had Thanksgiving supper at Eve's, actually." The others were suitably shocked. "You what?" Lucy asked, baffled. "It's a tradition of ours" Mel explained. "We remember Freddie by having a big meal with lots of guests, and wine, once the kids are in bed of course."

"That's all well and good, but why was Ben invited to supper by himself?" Gwilym questioned. Mel and Ben broke into near identical mischievous smiles. “Because he’s my boyfriend” Mel announced, reaching out to take Ben's hand.

“I knew it!” Joe yelled. “I knew there was something going on.” “We’re all very happy for you” Lucy said kindly, shaking her head at Joe’s antics. The rest of the group were smiling, cheerfully congratulating the happy couple. “You’re not surprised” Ben observed. “We’ve been wondering when it would happen” Lucy explained. Ben raised his eyebrows. “When, not if?”

“Mate, you’ve been absolutely gone for Mel since the day you met her” Gwilym pointed out. “I have not” Ben protested to Mel, blushing furiously. She merely smiled. “Naww, love at first sight?” she teased. “Anyway,” Gwilym interjected, “we didn’t know how Mel felt, of course, but we had our suspicions, and, well…” It was Mel’s turn to blush. “Damn, and I thought I was hiding it so well around you lot.” “Hey, we're not holding it against you” Lucy reassured her. “No, no, it's quite alright” Mel agreed.

Suddenly Joe groaned, cutting through the general cheer. "What's up?" Rami said quzzically, speaking for the rest of the rather puzzled group. "I just realised, I'm the only single dude in the band now" Joe explained. "Gwil was the only one with a girlfriend when we started this movie, and then Rami and Lucy happened, which, okay, I’m thrilled he’s found someone, but now my boy Ben's gone and left me all alone in singletown and we're not even done shooting yet. I mean, I know stuff happens on movies but both of you met people, on the same movie, within weeks of each other?"

Mel stared at him in confusion. "Is… Is he actually upset two of his mates have met someone before him?" "No, no, he's happy for us, really" Ben assured her. "He's just whining cos he doesn't want to be the only one on the pull when we all go out." "Eh, it's not like I could be any less successful than I have been the last few months" Joe grumbled. "Yeah, and I can still be your wingman, you know" Ben told him cheerfully. Joe smiled. "Well, that could be fun" he said. "Seriously though, I am genuinely super happy for you crazy kids."

Mel grinned at that. "Thanks, old man." Joe laughed at the insult, though he looked mildly scandalised. But whatever offence he might have taken at Mel’s jibe didn’t last long, and the rest of the afternoon was spent recounting the highlights of Ben and Mel’s Thanksgiving dinner and discussing plans for the remaining weeks of the shoot.

The next day the director was still nowhere to be found, and no one had successfully contacted him. The first assistant director attempted to take charge so they could at least try to get something done, but the mood on set was still unsettled and progress was slow. Over the next few days everyone soldiered on as best they could, but the director remained conspicuously absent.

After another week of radio silence though, both the cast and crew’s patience was rapidly running out. Remarkably, that very day the director finally reappeared, hours after he should have arrived on set on a normal day, claiming he'd been delayed due to having to care for his ill mother. But it was too late. Official complaints had apparently been made, and by noon a couple of Fox executives had arrived to give the director his marching orders. Singer was officially fired, effective immediately, and production was suspended until a new director could be hired.

The cast were universally thrilled to see the back of Singer, but there was widespread frustration at the resulting delays. Although some of the tension that had hung over the production in recent weeks had finally lifted with the knowledge the director was gone for good, there was still some unease about the potential impact of all the disruptions on the production, not to mention the inevitable effects a new director would have on both the set and the eventual film. Rami, though, was apparently confident everything would turn out alright in the end.

“I know who they’re trying to get to take over, and if he says yes, it should be good” he told the band, following the official announcement of the search for a new director to the cast and crew. Gwilym wasn’t convinced. “It’s still a massive disruption though, especially this late on in production.” “As long as they listen to the crew we’ll be able to pretty much pick up where we left off, everything’s still basically set up” Joe countered. “Plus, if Rami says this guy’s good, he’s probably great, so…” Rami grinned. “Nice to know some of you still have faith in me.”

In the end it took only four days for the studio to announce Dexter Fletcher would be taking over to finish the film, and shooting would resume shortly. The cast made the most of the unexpected break, spending an afternoon having a (very) long lunch at Eve’s. Mel did have some slight misgivings about the potential consequences of introducing all of her workmates to her very-much-not-average family, but in the end she needn’t have worried. Everyone got over their awe at being in Freddie’s house very quickly, having been prepared ahead of time by Ben, and by the time the end-of-meal tea and coffee were served quite a lot of the band seemed to be happily ensconced with Eve’s family.

Gwilym and Violet, both keen gardeners, were deep in discussion about the proper care of his new indoor plants. No one else in the band was terribly interested in plants, so he was very pleased to finally find someone who shared his enthusiasm. Joe, armed with his years of experience as an uncle, had won Jamie over almost instantly, and had even managed to get Lavender to warm up to him within half an hour of meeting her. By that point she’d persuaded him to play blocks with her on the floor, Jamie having managed to engage Allen in a detailed discussion of their respective football teams’ recent fortunes.

Rami was discussing something Freddie-related with Eve. He’d had an unpleasant moment soon after arriving, when he’d been happily greeted by Eve’s big fluffy grey cat Oberon, only to immediately sneeze and instinctively move away from the poor thing. Once he’d explained he was allergic to cats Eve had obligingly shut away Oberon and his elegant tabby companion Titania for the duration and assured Rami it was perfectly fine, though she did note the irony of her father’s portrayer being allergic to his favourite animals.

Meanwhile Mel was enjoying a rare opportunity to get to know Gwilym and Allen’s partners. This was in fact the first time she’d met them, but thus far they were all getting on famously despite their various differences in age and professional background.

Lucy, having found herself uninvolved in any of the conversations, turned to Ben, who was watching proceedings with a contented smile.

“You look happy” she said quietly. “I am happy” Ben replied. “The prick is finally gone, I get to spend more time with some of my best mates and my girlfriend… life’s good, y’know?” Lucy smiled. “You really like her, don’t you?” “I do” Ben said softly. “More than I thought… well I thought, at the start, she’d be a-a rebound, or whatever, but then I wanted to be official, and she wanted me to meet her family, and I… it’s still so early, we’re moving a bit fast but… I actually quite like it.” “You’re getting serious then” Lucy observed. “I think we are” Ben agreed. “I mean, I don’t want to get too serious too quickly but… I don’t want to not be serious either.” “That’s a good thing, wanting to be serious” Lucy assured him. “And you just do things when it feels right for the two of you, if anyone says you’re wrong they can piss off.” Ben couldn’t help grinning at that. “Thanks, Luce.”

The rest of the afternoon passed quite peacefully, though Ben couldn’t resist the opportunity to stir things up a bit by encouraging Eve to play Freddie’s piano for the assembled company. At the mention of music Lavender immediately requested ‘All Together Now’, clearly still obsessed. Ben got a big surprise when Mel picked up the guitar to accompany herself while she sang, naturally backed by her mums. The others were of course preoccupied with Mel’s fabulous voice, so her playing passed largely without comment until much later, when she and Ben were walking back to her little house.

“I didn’t know you could play the guitar” Ben said casually. Mel smiled. “And the bass, a bit.” “Really?” Ben marvelled. “Haven’t you ever noticed the absurd number of instruments crammed into my sitting room?” Mel joked. “Well, I’ve seen the piano… wait, can you play that too?” Mel grinned. “Of course, darling, why do you think I have the bloody thing?” Ben was intrigued. “Did your mum teach you then, the piano I mean?” “And the guitar, at first” Mel told him. “Papa taught her when she was young, she passed it all on to me when I was old enough. But even when I was very small I liked it when she played, she said.” Ben nodded. “So does Eve play the bass as well?” “No, Uncle John taught me” Mel clarified. “And more guitar, Mum was always more interested in the piano.” “You’re very talented, you know, all those instruments” Ben commented, smiling. “So are you” Mel said. “Drums are hard, you’re pretty good for someone who’s only been playing a few months.” Ben blushed slightly. “Gee, thanks. But you’re… your whole family is, like, ridiculously musical, it’s insane.” “It’s in the blood, I s’pose” Mel said, shrugging. “I suppose it is” Ben agreed.

***

Dexter Fletcher’s arrival on set after the unplanned break heralded a significant change in working conditions. Much of the tension that had previously hung over the set had dissolved with Singer’s departure, and Fletcher brought a much happier, more buoyant energy to proceedings. The disorder that had arisen from the previous director’s frequent disappearances was quickly sorted out, and both cast and crew were soon back on track to produce a very good movie. Their renewed focus meant that the days passed quickly, and Mel felt as though she barely had time to blink before Christmas was upon them all.

The imminent Christmas break triggered many animated discussions about their respective plans between Mel and Ben. She was of course planning to stay in London, while he was going home to Dorset to see his family. Mel was wondering whether to be miffed she wasn’t invited, until Ben reminded her his parents currently didn’t even know she existed. “I’ll tell them when I get home, I want to do it in person” he assured her. In any case Mel wanted to spend at least some of the break with her boyfriend, as did Ben with her, so in the end he decided he would come back to London in time for New Year’s Eve, to finish off the break. “My parents might come up to London after that, for my birthday, I could introduce you to them then” Ben added, as a small sweetener. Mel liked the sound of that.

But before all that came the Deacon family Christmas party, less than a week before the big day. Ben had agreed to go with Mel quite happily, but he was distinctly uneasy as they prepared for the party. “Nervous?” Mel said lightly. “A little” Ben admitted. “But I just… I feel like I’m representing all of the band tonight, I don’t want to screw it up and end up with John Deacon hating all of us.” Mel grinned. “Yeah, Joe would probably wring your neck” she joked. “But he won’t hate the band, he’s already had a good report from Luke.” Ben smiled. “For a minute there I forgot Luke’s met all of us, I keep thinking he’s just met me. But I’m glad you think he liked us.”

”He did, he told me” Mel said, turning to face Ben with a reassuring smile. “I know you’re worried, darling,” she said gently, “but tonight, as far as Uncle John’s concerned you’re not Ben Hardy the actor playing his old friend in a movie about his old band, you’re just my new boyfriend Ben, coming to meet the family for the first time.” “That’s... barely less nerve-wracking, to be honest” Ben admitted, half-jokingly.

“John and Veronica are the nicest people, truly, you’ll be fine” Mel reassured him. “They’re also basically your grandparents” Ben pointed out. “And some of the things I’ve heard about John…” Mel smiled. “The press love to exaggerate” she said. “He can get a bit grumpy when he’s out and about, perhaps, but that’s just because he hates being recognised and pounced on in public. He’s perfectly lovely to people he actually knows.” “He doesn’t know me” Ben pointed out. “Yes, but you’re with me, and he’s known me quite literally my entire life, so I think you’ll be alright” Mel joked. Ben eventually agreed he’d have to take her word for it, and they got on with making their way to the party.

Ben wasn’t entirely sure what he’d actually been expecting, but the enthusiastic greeting he got from Veronica when she let them in the front door reassured him he at least wasn’t going to be made to feel unwelcome. In fact, they’d barely crossed the threshold of the living room when they were set upon by Luke and Cameron, both evidently pleased to see Ben again. They barely had time to draw breath before Ben was being introduced to the rest of the Deacon clan, who all greeted him warmly.

Ben was relieved at the general willingness to welcome him to the fold, though he seriously questioned whether he’d be able to properly remember the names of all their various partners and children. The children themselves were mostly dotted about the room enjoying playing with their cousins, and Ben was already despairing of keeping track of who belonged to which Deacon child.

As Ben and Mel circulated the room, drinks in hand, chatting to each of the guests, Ben noticed a distinct contrast between Mel’s relationships with the eldest and youngest Deacon siblings. She was of course very close to Luke and Cameron, and Joshua seemed to care for her quite a bit too. But Robert and Michael were apparently a lot more distant. There didn’t seem to be any particular tensions, but the significant age gap between them and Mel presumably wasn’t conducive to a close sibling relationship. Laura, conversely, was clearly rather fond of Mel, if in a distantly benevolent older sibling sort of way. Ben was slightly to shocked to realise she was almost the same age as Eve, which must have led to a few interesting experiences when Mel was born.

And then, finally, Mel led him to a corner where a figure in a dark woollen jumper was bent over the complicated-looking stereo system, fiddling with something. Veronica was standing nearby, glass in hand. “Uncle John?” she said softly. The figure straightened up and turned around, and Ben found himself face to face with John Deacon. His once-flowing hair was all but gone, and his face was naturally a bit worn with age, but the crinkly-eyed smile he broke into on spotting his surrogate granddaughter was unmistakable. “Hello Mel” he said quietly, leaning over to embrace her. “We were so pleased when Luke said you’d be coming” Veronica chimed in warmly. “Wouldn’t miss it” Mel said, as they broke apart. “Uncle John, this is Ben” she added, taking his hand as she spoke.

John’s smile dimmed somewhat when his eyes fell on the newcomer, but he shook Ben’s hand politely all the same, before turning back to Mel, not looking entirely pleased at the sight before him. “So how’s work been?” Veronica said brightly, perhaps attempting to smooth over the awkwardness. ”We heard there was some disruption a little while ago…” “There was” Mel confirmed. “But everything’s settled down since we got a new director.” John nodded. “Well at least it’s all going well now” he mused. “Though it did make me wish even more that you’d never got involved in the film.”

Mel sighed, and Ben guessed from her expression, and Veronica’s evident exasperation, this was a long-running point of contention with John. “I’m fine, all the drama had nothing to do with me” she grumped. “You’re lucky it didn’t, if someone found out it’d be a perfect storm for the press” John countered. Mel groaned in frustration. “It’s been six months and still no one on that set knows who I really am” she pointed out. “Surely I’m safe now, there’s only a few weeks of filming left after Christmas.” John glanced pointedly at Ben. “Clearly some people on set have found out the truth.” “Only because I told them, or Mum did” Mel clarified angrily. “And they haven’t spread it around either.”

“It’s only six of us who know” Ben said quietly. “Just the core cast, and we would never sell anyone out to the tabloids.” John seemed unconvinced as he turned to Mel. “D’you believe that?” “I do” she told him. “Do you really think we would have let them in on the secret if we didn’t trust them?” “Your mother wouldn’t” John agreed. “You, I’m not so sure about.” His tone was utterly deadpan, but he was smiling slightly, his eyes shining with mirth. Ben let out a small sigh of relief when he realised John was only joking. When he felt Mel relax next to him he knew everything would be alright, even if all wasn’t quite forgiven just yet.

Later on, after food was served, Ben found himself next to John, left alone after Mel got caught up talking to someone else and Veronica disappeared off to deal with hostess duties. He suddenly felt rather awkward. Of course there were plenty of things he would have liked to chat to John about, but he had also been warned that John Deacon’s past with Queen was something of a ‘sensitive’ subject for him. “It’s not that he never talks about it” Mel had explained. “But he really doesn’t like being asked direct questions about it.” Ben’s usual fallback would have been small talk about his career, which normally fascinated new people, but even that seemed a dangerous topic of conversation given the focus of his current job, not to mention John’s clear reservations about Mel’s involvement in the project.

Just as Ben was wondering if John was going to say anything to him at all, the older man caught his eye, smiling wryly. “I hope you don’t think what I said about the film was anything to do with you” John said quietly. Ben was confused. “What you said about the film?” “I wish Mel hadn’t taken the job on it, but not because of you” John explained. “I just worry she hasn’t even thought about the fact she’s put herself in the one place she and Eve are most likely to be… exposed, shall we say, let alone what might happen if they are revealed to the world.” Ben smiled reassuringly. “The half dozen of us who know won’t tell anyone else, and we’d do anything in our power to keep it out of the press, if it came to that.” “I’m sure you would,” John agreed, “but I’ll still worry about it.”

Suddenly he grinned mischievously. “You know, I wasn’t sure what to think when I first heard Mel was seeing you. All the people she could have fancied at work, and she went for the bloke playing Roger.” “Well, at least she didn’t go for the man himself” Ben quipped. John smiled wryly. “She’s gone for worse, even if he is a bit old for her. Though I should hope Roger still has enough sense to know better than to go after a 21-year-old at his age.” Suddenly John looked thoughtful. “You’re a bit older than Mel yourself, though, aren’t you?” “Only five years” Ben said sheepishly. “It’s alright, that’s not an age gap to be concerned about” John assured him. “Luke and Cameron seem to think you’re alright, and Mel seems very happy, which is the main thing.” “So am I” Ben admitted, wondering whether he was about to get the if-you-ever-hurt-her talk.

But all John said was “That’s all I want, for her to be happy.” He smiled wryly. “She’s an adult now, she’s old enough to make her own decisions, and I just have to trust her not to make any bad ones.” Ben couldn’t decide whether John’s last comment was aimed at him. “I hope you don’t think-” “No, no, not at all, I can see how much you care about her” John reassured him. “So, just remember, she is a Mercury, a rare and precious creature who should be treasured. If you did want my advice I’d tell you anyone who’s serious about her should treat her like the queen she is, but I’m sure you know what you’re doing.” Ben let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, knowing now he had John’s approval. “Of course” he assured John, resisting the enormous temptation to make a Queen reference. It seemed unwise somehow, to draw attention to a topic they’d been carefully avoiding all night. They soon slid into much safer areas of small talk, and in fact John didn’t say much more to Ben after that, but he seemed not to dislike Ben, at the very least.

In fact, John wasn’t particularly talkative for the rest of the evening, but Ben nonetheless got the feeling he’d made a good impression. Well, he hoped he had. He felt rather conspicuous amongst all the Deacons, but they didn’t seem to find his presence particularly remarkable. He did field a few questions about his job, but none of them seemed overly curious, which at least meant he didn’t feel like he was banging on about himself too much.

Much later, when he was home again with Mel, he was relieved to hear she was pleased with how the evening had gone. Apparently Veronica had been very enthusiastic in her approval, and the others seemed satisfied he was a decent person, and seemingly weren’t terribly phased about the age gap. But the best news, at least to Ben, was the fact that John Deacon had apparently indicated he liked Ben already. Suddenly he didn’t think the party could have gone any better.

***

Christmas itself was much the same as always, though Ben left for his parents’ place with some trepidation. Mel for her part enjoyed her family’s low-key London Christmas, even if she did spend a bit of time wondering how Ben was getting on. As it turned out, his family were fairly pleased he’d found someone new, if a bit surprised it had happened so quickly. “Not that they mind much, apparently my mum was already plotting to set me up with one of the the locals before I told her” Ben reported, when he FaceTimed Mel on Christmas night. “So they’re not… unhappy about the age difference?” Mel questioned. “It’s barely a difference” Ben assured her. “But… I don’t think so. They’re pretty keen to meet you, I don’t think they’re too bothered.” Mel nodded. “So they are coming for your birthday then.” “Yeah, you’ll get to meet them very soon” Ben agreed.

In the end, despite Mel’s nerves Ben’s birthday turned out to be a very nice bookend to the Christmas break. His parents were very welcoming, and they seemed to be pleased to start getting to know Mel, at least. She did think she detected a whiff of tension when she mentioned her mums, but it was only a passing mention and as no-one said anything she decided not to dwell on it for the time being. More questions would no doubt be asked later, and if Ben’s parents did get judgmental at any point, she’d have no problems dealing with it head on. After all, she’d been dealing with other people’s attitudes about her unusual family for most of her life, there wasn’t a lot she hadn’t heard before.

***

Once production resumed after the Christmas break, filming was very much on the home stretch, though there was still plenty of fun to be had. One rather unpromising morning Mel was in the midst of organising some spare costumes when an American-accented voice cut through the chatter burbling through the wardrobe truck. “Hi, I’m doing a walk-on today, I was told to ask for Mel when I got to wardrobe?” “Ah, yes, I heard there was a special request.” Mel recognised her boss’s clipped English tones, rather jarring next to the drawling American. “Mel, extra for you!” Mel was slightly startled at the yell, but hurried to the front of the racks nonetheless. She found Barbara smiling warmly. “Special request from Queen; they want you to dress Adam for his scene today” she explained, as Mel emerged into the front.

She was only mildly surprised to find herself face to face with none other than Adam Lambert; wardrobe and makeup had been informed of his cameo ahead of time so they could plan his look. “Mel, this is-” “Adam, I know” she told Barbara. Adam was surprised.“You know who I am?” “Yeah, I’m a bit of a fan actually” she said, endeavouring to keep her tone casual. “Follow me, your stuff’s down here.”

Adam’s jaw had dropped the minute he saw Mel’s face, but he followed her obediently nonetheless. “Uh, has anyone ever told you you look just like Freddie Mercury?” he asked, once he’d recovered himself sufficiently. Mel just managed to hold back an exasperated sigh. “You would not believe how many times I’ve heard that since I started here.” “It’s true though, it’s… kinda scary almost” Adam insisted. Mel turned around to face him, having reached the rack she was looking for. “It’s not scary, it’s just genetics” she said blithely. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m his granddaughter.”

Adam was so shocked at this Mel had to restrain herself from laughing at his expression. “His -? But he never had-?” “He did, he just kept it quiet” Mel explained. “Very quiet, clearly” Adam quipped. “This is, like, super rude, but I just… how did that even happen, Freddie Mercury having a kid?” Mel sighed. “It’s a long story, but basically my grandmother went to a party in Munich, Freddie was there, everyone was drunk or high, or both, and, well, shit happened.” Adam grinned. “Cool story, your grandma partying with Freddie Mercury.” “Yeah, I s’pose it is” Mel agreed. “I’ve never really thought about it to be honest, it’s just… the story of my family, y’know.”

Adam nodded in agreement, but he was looking at Mel with clear curiosity. “So did… did Freddie ever find out about his kid, do you know?” he asked, sounding rather uncertain, almost as if he thought he was edging into risky conversational territory. “He did” Mel reassured him, smiling softly. “And he got to know her very well, over the years.” Adam was understandably confused. “When you say very well…” “Ever heard of someone called Daphne Caddington?” Mel asked. He nodded. “She, like, lived with him for a while, with her daughter, yeah?” “She was my grandmother” Mel explained. Adam’s eyes bugged out in shock. “She was… so does that mean her daughter was-?” “Yep.” Mel grinned. “But Evangeline’s, like, my age and you’re…” Adam mused, puzzled. “She was quite young when I was born” Mel clarified, an amused smile dancing on her lips. “She must have been, like, super young” Adam agreed. Suddenly a thought occurred to him.

“Roger and Brian know about all this, don’t they?” he said quietly. It was barely a question. Mel nodded. “They’ve set us up” he mused. “Probably” Mel agreed. Adam smiled. “Those sneaky bitches.” “Did… did you just call Queen bitches?” Mel questioned. “Oh, they totally are” Adam defended, grinning mischievously. “You should see them in private, they bicker like an old married couple. It’s hilarious to watch… most of the time.”

Whatever the reason Queen had seen fit to make the request, Mel was quite pleased with it by the end of the day. She and Adam had an almost unhealthy amount of fun working together to get him appropriately attired, spending almost as much time cackling over his various touring-with-Queen stories as they did actually working. Despite their differences in age and background they seemed to share a lot of similarities in both interests and personalities, not least the fact they were both musical theatre actors by training.

Adam also seemed a bit awed by Mel’s connection to Freddie, asking her lots of questions in between bursts of work. Frustratingly, she wasn’t able to answer many of them, having never known Freddie herself. “Look, I get that you’re curious, darling, but I really don’t know that much about Freddie, you’d have to ask my mum” she told him, after the umpteenth question she couldn’t answer.

By the end of the day, he’d gone one better and got himself invited to tea at Garden Lodge. Eve had coincidentally happened to video call Mel while she was with Adam, needing an opinion on colours for a half-finished painting. Adam had in fact tried to escape until Mel hauled him over to meet the famous Eve Caddington, who wasted no time in putting him at ease and inviting him round to chat properly about Freddie. “You should come for tea some time, we can have a nice long chinwag over a hot meal” she said kindly. Adam was so stunned he barely managed to squeak out an “Okay!” before Eve hung up. Ever the professional, Adam quickly pulled himself back together and refocused on the job at hand, but Mel couldn’t help thinking there was an extra sparkle in his eye for the rest of the day.

***

Eve made one more visit to the set before the film wrapped. They were filming "the band" appearing on Top of the Pops, and it was all hands on deck. Roger and Brian were all dressed up for a quick cameo, and even Jim Beach was on set. Eve rather doubted he was having a cameo, although she also didn’t think he’d mind too much if he was asked to do one.

Eve was introduced to Dexter Fletcher by Roger himself, with much ceremony. Dexter said nothing obvious, but there was a look in his eye that made her quite sure Roger had spilled the beans about her true identity at some point. At least, she assumed it was Roger, or possibly Brian. There were others who knew, of course, but somehow Eve didn’t think they were the type to gossip, at least not about something like that, and certainly not to the new director.

It soon transpired that Mel had volunteered to be an extra in the background of the “performance” sequence. As the day’s schedule inched towards that part Eve found herself being persuaded to join her daughter in the scene, though she felt she was much too old to be playing a teenybopper in the Top of the Pops audience. The main cast very much disagreed, however. “You’re the same age as us, we’re not that old” Joe pointed out. “And anyway, most of the extras aren’t actual teenagers either” Mel added. “Oh come on, please? It’ll be fun, all you’ll have to do is stand and dance a bit.”

“It would give the scene an extra something, having Freddie Mercury’s daughter in it” a raspy voice interjected. Eve immediately turned around, shocked to see the director himself chiming in. “Roger told me” he added, seeing her confusion. Mel was suddenly uncertain, not having actually asked about adding another extra to the scene. “We don’t have to, if it’s going to be too difficult to change things…” “Nonsense, the more the merrier” Dexter reassured her. “Roger told me about you too, you know. I must say it almost feels like his approval, in a way, having you working here…” Somehow everyone knew ‘his’ didn’t mean Roger’s.

Having received the director’s approval Mel’s enthusiasm quickly returned, and she and Eve spent a very pleasant afternoon moonlighting as extras. In fact, most of the set seemed to be in a good mood that day. The happy atmosphere lasted through most of the remaining days of shooting, almost to the last day of filming. The final day itself, though, was somewhat subdued as everyone had finally realised the carnival really was nearly over.

But after the wrap on the last day came the wrap party, which everyone enjoyed. Roger, Brian and Miami were all in attendance, though Eve had declined the invitation she received after her appearance as an extra. The band were determined to enjoy one last night together, and Mel was almost as set on getting Ben out on the dancefloor at least once.

In addition to the dancing, and the usual drinks and finger food, a bit later in the evening they brought on a spot of Queen karaoke. Joe of course approached it with his usual enthusiasm, and managed to persuade several of the cast, and a few of the crew, to join him at various points. Mostly it was a bit of a laugh for everyone, but then Joe begged long and hard enough that Mel agreed to join him for Bohemian Rhapsody. Her spectacular rendition of the second verse just about brought the house down. Even Queen themselves looked impressed.

“I didn’t know you could sing like that” Roger commented later. Mel was, naturally, with Ben, in a secluded corner. “So can Eve” Ben added. “And they can both play too.” “Just a bit of piano and guitar, nothing special” Mel said, blushing. “Just like your grandad then” Roger mused. “Have you ever considered recording something?” Brian asked curiously. Mel shook her head. “No, not really. Anyway, right now I want to get into musical theatre, but maybe one day...” “Oh, of course, of course” Brian murmured apologetically. “Well, if you ever change your mind I’d be happy to help with the production side of things, if you needed it of course.” Mel was taken aback. Maybe it would be easier than she thought to do more than just theatre. “If I ever decide to record something you’ll be the first to know” she assured Brian.

“Well, whatever you do next, keep in touch, alright?” Roger told her. “That goes for your mum too, I’d like to know what Freddie’s offspring gets up to when she’s not swanning around film sets.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “You know, I should have you both round to lunch next time I manage to round up all of my brood” he mused. Mel wasn’t at all sure how to respond, but she had to admit lunch at Roger Taylor’s house did sound like fun. “I think Mum’d like that, I know I would.” “Partners will be invited too” Roger added, noticing Ben’s less-than-successful attempts not to look miffed at being left out. “Give us a time and we’ll let you know” Mel assured him.

Mel scored a number of comments from various members of the cast and crew as well, mostly complimenting her singing voice. Though a few did notice a resemblance to Freddie’s performance style as well. Even the director wandered over at one point, full of praise. However, it soon became clear he had something of an ulterior motive too. “I want a sort of chorus line for a couple of songs in the Elton John movie,” he explained, “and I’d love to have you in it. If you’re interested in auditioning, of course.” Mel was stunned. “You… you want to cast me in your movie?” Dexter nodded. “You’ve got a great voice, Mel, and exactly the right kind of background for what we’re looking for. I’d be a fool to pass up talent like this that’s just about fallen in my lap.” Mel grinned. “Send me the info and I’ll think about it when I’m a bit more sober.” Dexter seemed satisfied with that response, and soon darted off to talk to someone else looking very pleased with himself.

Mel turned to Ben, still grinning in amazement. “Did you- did you hear-?” she gabbled excitedly. “I’m gonna be in a movie!?” “I heard” Ben assured her, beaming proudly. “You’re a superstar, of course Dexter wants you in his musical… movie… thing.” Ben was still smiling at her, but he was a bit glassy-eyed, and Mel could see the night was starting to catch up with him. “I think you’ve probably had enough for tonight, dear” she said, a clear note of amusement in her voice as she moved his last drink out of his reach. “I do appreciate your support though.”

The festivities didn’t last much longer after that, with many of the crew needing to prepare for flights home the next day. The band were reluctant to say goodbye, eventually deciding to have one last breakfast together the next day before Joe and Rami had to fly back to America. Needless to say, they all regretted choosing an early start when they woke up the next day with pounding heads. Only Mel seemed to be entirely unscathed, although Lucy had also apparently escaped with only a mild hangover.

The others glared at them as they chattered happily over pancakes, though they had perked up a bit by the end of the meal. Even so, it was with heavy hearts that they all finally said goodbye that afternoon, naturally promising to see each other again soon. Exactly when ‘soon’ would be no one quite knew, though Lucy was apparently planning to meet Rami in America when she went over for a job in a few weeks, and Joe was unlikely to be far behind. Mel was sure it wouldn’t be long before Ben caught up with Gwilym either.

*******

Mel had thought, when she started working on Bohemian Rhapsody, that once filming was over she’d go back to her theatre life of auditions and waiting and hoping this part might be the breakthrough that would kickstart a long career. And she did, after taking a bit of time just to relax with Ben and luxuriate in having free time again. Ben was also between jobs, and keen to take a break while he could, knowing he had a round of promotion coming up for another project fairly soon, and more auditions on the horizon.

In the meantime, though, they spent a couple of weeks just enjoying roaming around London together and catching up on all the things they hadn’t had time for during filming. It was a largely quiet and domestic few weeks, though there was a small disruption when one of the more sensationalist tabloids published a couple of photos of them out and about together, with accompanying text proclaiming Ben had been spotted with a “mystery woman” multiple times in recent days.

Mel scanned that paper anxiously over the following days, but nothing more ever appeared. “Those photos were probably from someone who just got lucky anyway” Ben reassured her. “I mean, there’s probably more of them than what was published, but evidently none of them were clear enough to identify you. And ‘former soap star has new girlfriend’ is barely a story, it’s hardly something worth pursuing us over.”“I know,” Mel agreed, “but if they ever did discover who I am, that could be the beginning of how they finally find out about Mum and everything.” Ben found this a sobering thought, but he nevertheless felt it unlikely Eve would be discovered unless the tabloids decided to take more of an interest in Queen, something which could well happen if the movie did well. He refrained from sharing this thought with Mel, however.

Once it was clear nothing more was going to come of the photos Mel turned her attention to her audition for the Rocketman chorus. But just days after sending off her initial audition tape to the producers she had a phone call from Dexter offering her something of an upgrade on the chorus part.

“I’ve changed my mind, I’d really like you to try out for Kiki Dee” he told her, with his usual enthusiasm. “It’s not a big role, but it’s a speaking part at least.” Mel was stunned. “What-? Why-? A speaking part?” “I watched your audition tape” Dexter explained. “Your voice would be wasted in the chorus, not to mention the acting in your reel is streets ahead of everyone I’ve seen for Kiki so far.” “I- uh- Really?” Mel cursed internally at her clumsy response, but she recovered quickly. “I mean, of course I’ll audition for you!” Dexter was very pleased to hear that, and by the time Mel hung up she had a time and a place for a proper in-person audition in the very near future.

The audition, when it happened, went extremely well, and within a few days Mel got a phone call informing her that she’d won the part. She was positively buzzing with excitement when she saw Ben for dinner that night, and he was thrilled for her. “I knew you’d get it, you superstar, well done!” As they celebrated, Ben was slightly startled to realise there was something else he wanted to say to his extremely talented girlfriend. But he kept quiet, knowing the moment wasn’t quite right just yet.

They went back to Mel’s place after their meal, and spent quite a long night together celebrating intimately. The next morning Ben formulated a plan over his coffee, under the watchful eye of Jupiter the black cat, and quietly slipped out before Mel got up. When he returned she was sat at the head of the dining table, Mab purring on the chair next to her. Mel looked up as he came in, breaking into a confused smile when she noticed the large bunch of flowers Ben was holding.

“I, uh, I got you something” he said sheepishly. He smiled as he handed the flowers over. Mel was surprised. "Flowers? Why did you buy me flowers?" "Because. You got your first role" he explained. "Also, you're one of the most wonderful and amazingly talented people I've ever met, and…well, the thing is… I love you." He was suddenly very uncertain as he watched Mel gaping at him, worrying he might be pushing her into something she wasn't ready for. "You don't have to say it back if you're not-, it's ok, I mean I know it's a big deal, but I just wanted you to know" he gabbled, frantically attempting to backtrack.

Mel's face finally shifted into a broad smile. "It's okay, darling" she assured him. "I love you too." She leaned up to kiss Ben, who obligingly leaned down to meet her with a very passionate locking of lips.

“God, I’m so happy you said it back” Ben confessed, when they finally broke apart. Mel grinned. “What, did you really think I might not feel the same way?” she said teasingly. “No, I just - I wasn’t sure if you were there yet” he admitted, shaking his head. “For a moment there I thought I might have freaked you out or something.” “I wasn’t scared, silly” Mel assured him, a hint of laughter in her voice. “I just wasn’t expecting you to say it was all, I just needed a second to get over the surprise.” Ben smiled. “It was a good surprise, wasn’t it?” “An excellent surprise” Mel agreed. As they leaned in to kiss again, she really didn’t think life could get much better.

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

A/N: And that’s all, folks. This was not where I’d originally planned to end the story but I ran out of steam and then it wound itself to a nice conclusion, so I went with it. There’s a couple of things in this chapter foreshadowing events I had planned for later but I think they still work as just parts of this chapter.

Incidentally, Adam’s comment about Brian and Roger is based on a quote I saw somewhere. I can totally imagine it though, they’ve known each other for a very long time at this point.

#ben hardy x reader #roger taylor x reader #john deacon x reader #bo rhap fic #queen fic #ben hardy #roger taylor #john deacon #Brian May #queen band #freddie mercury fic #freddie mercury #mother mercury

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laminy · 11 months

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Hello again! I know we talked like… literally a day ago and I got very distracted with talking about another subject (sorry about that, that was on me).

I’ve reached chapter ten of ITSBASM!! (I know you probably don’t need an update report on my reading of your fanfic lol but let me compliment you please)

And I haven’t even read THAT far into the story but oh my word… you’re one of the most talented writers hands down. You’re so descriptive, you’re great at slow burn (and normally I really dislike slow burn because I can be impatient lol but your slow burn is amazing).

The fact that you did research for the story is really awesome (and definitely tricky to find accurate and/or helpful information. It can also be difficult to find the exact information you might need so kudos to you!)!

Here’s my rant about your series so far (sorry if I mess anything up or if my rant sounds choppy, I am writing this as my brain thinks at the speed of light)

(Sort of spoilers for those who don’t want spoilers)

I love Gwilym so much. I also love his friendship with Rami and jeez Joe is honestly such a mood at times lol. I’m so so so pleased with the dynamics and even though they aren’t the wholesome family we know and love yet, that’s alright.

I of course feel bad for East since he certainly wanted his crew to be able to adjust to their “new life” and how East made sure they’d all be alright before he sadly died. I do like how you had John feel remorse towards East and his death, even though his last interaction with East wasn’t very pleasant. It shows that John did respect East nonetheless.

I also wanted to compliment you on how amazing you were able to describe Gwilym’s emotions and feelings. I love how you implemented Joe telling Rami that no matter how much he wants to help Gwilym feel even a little bit better, it’s ultimately up to Gwilym to “get better” if you know what I mean.

And I also love how you have written Ben. He is definitely the youngest out of them and to have such tough responsibilities and jobs, you’ve created the perfect atmosphere and mood to show that Ben is wise and smart beyond his years and beyond what people assume of him just because of his age.

Gwilym and Rami’s friendship is written amazingly and I’m absolutely loving it! Joe and Ben’s friendship is also amazingly strong and I love that as well! I love all the moments with Gwilym and Rami and Ben and Joe, again I’m a sucker for special friendship dynamics!

Anyways I just wanted to tell you about how I feel with the series (I awkwardly don’t have an account yet on AO3 so I can’t reply on that… I’ll end up making an account someday but not this day lol).

But yeah again, I absolutely am loving your series and it’s probably going to be one of my absolute top favorites ever so yeah!

And by the way, if you don’t want me to continue to send you asks about your series, just let me know! I can be quite obnoxious at times lol. But yeah your series is amazing!

You can send me as many asks as you want, oh my gosh, I don't mind at all. If you don't want me to publish my responses or want me to just message you privately, please let me know! I don't want to post anything that you don't want people to see.

Chapter 10 is always where I thought, if this were a TV show, Chapter 10 would be the end of season one, with Gwil coming out of his room. So, that's a pretty good turning point in the story. There is still a lot more to come but that was a pretty big step for Gwil.

I loved writing all their friendships, as they grow and get closer, Gwil and Joe will have their little moments (bigger moments as things go on) and same with Ben and Rami. I enjoyed writing the romances and obviously I think a lot of people were on board with them, but I knew that just as many people, if not more, wanted a story about their friendship and as I was writing it, I just wanted them all to be a really happy group of four.

As for all the compliments, I will happily take them and tell you how much I appreciate them. I think I have other shorter stories, one shots, that I would rather read, but in terms of like, the world created, ITBASM is probably the best thing I've ever written. It's definitely the story that made me really feel like a writer, and it helped me through some dark times. So, I'm really happy you're enjoying it, thank you for letting me know :)

#thank you!!!

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popculturebuffet · 2 years

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Screwhead Fiction Double Feature: Army of Darkness: Ashes 2 Ashes Review: 50% Groovy (Comissioned by WeirdKev27)

Happy Halloween ya Screwheads! Like last year we're taking a look at the evil dead courtsey of my good friend Kev, though trimmed down this time: we're only taking two looks at the king himself baby, but two that i'd be bound to eventually, both attempts to start an EviL Dead Universe from scratch. First up is Dynamite's Army of Darkness: Ashes 2 Ashes.

If your curious both why Army of Darkness of all three movies has such a sprawling comic line and why it dosen't bear the Evil Dead name as most media would from the 2010's onward that's simple: RIGHTS ISSUES BABYEEE! Much like another faviorite horror franchise of mine, Chucky, the rights are split due to Rami using a diffrent studio each time and while The Evil Dead and Evil Dead II eventually ended up lumped back together, Army of Darknesss so far hasn't, requiring coperation to use any of it's parts. As such Ash Vs the Evil dead choose to leave Army of Darkness out to avoid high costs on an already high budget show, and this comic exists as Universal or whoever owns the Army of Darkness brand could just lisence it out.

So thanks to the prologue these comics can use the cabin, the book, Linda, and all that but nothing specific from Evil Dead's 1 and 2, while having free reign to use anything from army of darkness. It's also why the now defunct Space Goat Publishing was able to make an Evil Dead II comic, which i'll be covering later this halloween season. Also tangentially related tangent but why HAVEN'T we had an Army of Darkness Vs Chucky crossover? I mean come on, the two are made for each other. We've honestly seen criminally few Chucky comics and general and given Ash has thrown hands with Herbert West, classic horror monsters and more, it only makes sense for the two to go at it. Come on someone anyone make this happen.

Speaking of publishing, to my suprise while i couldn't dig up much about these comics I did find out something fascinating: Dynamite, the comics company that publishes army of darkness comics to this very day, was BUILT on the back of this franchise. While they had to run it through Devils Due Publishing for the first two mini series their success lead to COUNTLESS more comics and Dynamtie getting more properties like Red Sonja, becoming a licensed comics machine over the years. Originals wise it's best known for Project Superpowers, an Alex Ross lead revival of various public domain golden age heroes and the Boys, aka the thing that haunts my nightmares at night after having to review it for Kev Last year.

Unlike Boom or IDW Dynamite is a company i'm not really experienced with, having not read an Army of Darkness comic till now as I hadn't seen the movie till last year, quite the screwhead I know. It dosen't seem to be a bad company and in fact will be publishing the Gargoyles and Darkwing Duck Comics this year, they just never seemed to have properties I cared about original or otherwise and I had to be paid to look at the boys for damn good reason

Yeah that's also so those of you who only watched the show know it's JUST the comic. I hate having to specify every time.. but i'd also hate for the actually GOOD efforts those boys running the show are putting in to get mixed in with the sludgey source it comes from.

Rami and Campbell arne't involved in these, likely because they weren't asked and Campbell seems very unahppy his best friend wasn't remotely consulted and this just.. happened without his consent. I don't judget the comics nor those who worked on them for that, or even Dynamite as if you have a shot with the boomstick, one that ended up being the backbone of your comapny for a long time, I cna' tblame you for not firing it into some screwhead. I do blame Universal for being fucking awful in this case, so I got that going for me.

And thus with all this preamble out of the way we have Ashes 2 Ashes

A 4 issue 2004 mini series picking up exactly where Army leaves off. It's written by Andy Hartnell, a comics writer known for writing the comic Danger Girl which I have not read and drawn by Nick Bradshaw. Hows it hold up almost 20 years later? Let's rev up our chainsawas and find out

We open cleverly, with the exact opening narration from Army of Darkness, covering a very truncated version of Evil Dead 2, i.e. Ash took Linda to the cabin, she didn't make it, he got sucked into a sky hole and wound up in the middle ages. The comic then recaps Army of Darkness itself. In short for anyone who missed my marathon of the films last year or is just a fan of this blog and is just reading this for completions sake, all two of you: Ash Williams was an average guy who went up with his girlfriend Shiela to a Cabin in the Woods wooo-oooo, only to accidently raise the dead. At least his car was fine. This was via the Necronomicon Ex Mortis, the book of the dead, an eldritch tome clearly made out of human skin that unleashes an army of darkness hoping to swallow humanities souls to take over the world, as you do. Ash was able to stop them the first time but got sucked into a sky hole and ended up in the past. After a breif touch of slavery and fighting in a gladiator pit, he worked to try and seal the book, failed specatucarliy and helped King Arthur kill a bunch of people, romanced a woman named SHiela and came back via some words having said them wrong. Thankfully this isnt' the directors cut so he did come back to present day.. but took some deadites with him, shooting one, making out with a lady.. and that's where our story picks up

In this version things aren't quite settled as Ash soon finds that the deadite he fought at the end isn't the only person to come back. The Wise Man, an old man who was basically their verison of Merlin has come to the present. In natural Ash Williams fashion he didn't say the magic words when going back to the present right.

This is also where my big issue reading these first two issues crops up: Nick Bradshaw's paneling. To explain here's a sample from this very scene)

As you can see for some reason his panels go left to right, then right to left with no arrows or clear visual trickery to get yoru eyes to move that way. You CAN make going all around the page work but your eye HAS to be able to follow it or you get situations like this. It's why when most artist's do something like this it's for movement and to really spice things up , not for ash pushing an old man around. It's a problem that isn't in EVERY page but pops up way too often.

The art style itself is decent, but I do think lacks in places, as while I do think a cartoony art style can work for a comic adaptation of a live action work, as seen with IDW's awesome ghostbusters comics i'll hopefully get to cover at some point, the art here really just dosen't seem to have enough balance between realism and expression at times. It's not terrible, but it's not exactly amazing either and often undercuts just how horrific the deadites were which, even in the more comedic Army of Darkness, are one of the most iconic things about this franchise.

Story wise it's decent and the premise is out and out brilliant: See while Ash DID come back to S-Mart turns out he was a few days early, and he soon finds that out from the Wise Man .. and from seeing his past self and Shiela get in the Delta. It's simple but brilliant: Ash has a chance to undo everything if he can get there in time, but both the fact he NEEDS the loop to close as intended and send his past self back so Army of Darkness happens, and having to travel through the woods on a motorcyle with The Wise Man riding sidecar make it hard.

That said while the premise is great… the comic doesn't make full use of it. Part of this I understand: with the rights issues their hands were tied and thus they couldn't exactly have Ash having the full adventure he should via time travel, with basically all of Evil Dead 2 having to happen off panel for this to work.

Sadly another thing holding it back is charcterzation issues. The comic dosen't just take after Army of Darkness in what it can use but in how Ash is portrayed. There is a it of a gap between his personality in Evil Dead II and Army of Darkness. In the former he's a bit of a goofus, but also badass, and understandably terrified. While the latter two carry on to Army of Darkness, he also takes a sharp detour into dumbass ville, the Ash of AOD being more impulsive, selfish and dumb, causing the entire second half simply by getting the words wrong. As such instead of having Ash properly reflect on his second chance to save linda we get the wiseman refering to her as the cure for his "beaver feaver"

And him spewing out catchprhases, snark and suptidity. He's still Ash so we still get plenty of badassery including him destroying some woodland creature deadites on the way, and it's what keeps the comci from being out and out bad: while the art dosen't do it favors, ther'es still enough of the Rami-Style slapstick magic here and htere to go around> ti's not as good, again I don't think the artist quite got how to capture the deadites, but it's still not terrible.

So we end issue 1 with our heroes escaping and with issue 2 we jump forward a bit to the awesome equipment shed from Evil Dead 2, one of the most iconic locations. They even have the Freddy Kruger glove which kicks ass.. and provided a nice back door for later as while Ash hasn't gotten to fuck with the Chuck just yet, he did square off with Freddy and Jason, something I do intend to cover one of these days.

Ash rechainsaws his hand , having used the prostetic from AOD he built till now, which I admit is anothe rlost opprotunity as they don't homage the shot from evil dead II of him putting it together but him emerging ready to go only to nearly chop off the wiseman's head is classic evil dead stuff and helps make up for it.

What sadly can't be made up for is him seeing Linda again and trying to save her.. onlyf or it to turn out to be the evil dead. And then snap into trying to kill her like the love of his life turning evil on him AGAIN is no big deal. Sa'll good bro.

See this is where trying to use the style of writing fo AOD for EVERYTHING really weakens the film. Dont' get me wrong, while I prefer Evil Dead II, Army of Darkness isn't bad at all, and i'ts more goofy adventure movie tone likely meshes well later down the line: you can have ash do weird shit like team up with Barrack Obama and Xena, fight Herbet West or hunt down dracula. That's fine. Those stories likely fit the tone of AOD. But you really can't go back to the cabin and try to act like none of that shit hurt ash or traumtized him. He lost all his friends, and Scotty, the love of his life, and then MORE people on top of that. While Evil Dead II was more of a comedy April's death was played for horror and it was still scary and heartwrenching at times. You can ballance the pathos of Ash'es torment by the dead with him getting into a looney tunes battles with his own hand. It can be done. It's why this franchise keeps coming back from the dead again and again and I don't judge all the comics after this on this one and look forward to trying some. Trying to put dumb horny action hero ash in the palce of tormented but still awesome goofy hero ash just dosen't work.

We do get a decent if flawed sequence next, and one that explains the title and you likely saw coming: Ash Vs Ash, with Past!Ash assuming Present!Ash is a cabin hallucination. It's a good setup for a fight and gives us this amazing image

And has plenty of great moments, from Past!Ash cutting off his future selfs chainsaw hand, to the old wiseman fumbling around, to a dual wielding past ash … ramming himself into a corner. IT's great stuff. Problem is they DON'T really make the two ashes that easy to tell apart. initially I thought there were NO differences but Past!Ash has his shirt torn. But the two still look so similar it's very hard to tell whose who aside from the dialogue, which for an action scene isn't really ideal. It was easier to follow this go round but I shoudln't need an instruction manual to read a comic book.

That said this is where the comic goes from very clumsy, hard to follow and wasting opportunity to fun and enjoyable. The first issue and 2/3 of an issue aren't TERRIBLE, but this last half is more suited for the wacky tone their going for while still not forgetting how seroius or horrifying this situation is. Ash bumbles with the book.. and instead sends them to the alternate ending, a horrible wasteland ruled by the dead. There's also some slave women because this was the early 2000's and every other comic assumed you needed boobs in there or geeks would throw it out a window or something.

It does work well to both impart on Ash "Hey moron, shit be serious", and to trust the wiseman. We also get this gem of a line

So ash agrees to follow his lead to finding the sealing place of the necronomicon, then he'll do the hard part. So they plan to book a plane , with a great line from Ash...

While ash's evil hand from the past follows them.

We start issue 3 with the story all about how the Wisemans life got flip turned upside down. WHy he didn't tell Ash on the drive to the woods or from the woods to the plane, I don't know. It's simple yet horrific: thanks to Ash's time shenanigans EVERYONE from army of darkness but him got possed, includnig SHiela whose in a skimpy outfit because again, need that boob quota or shit's going out windows I guess. At presnt in a plane Ash is destracted by a creature on the wing which Wise Man oddly dosen't take seriously but at least goes to the pilots.. giving us THIS franchise all time great gag

Like I said , the back half of the story picks things up, and really fits the comedic tone way better, witht he wiseman accidently blowing a hole in the plane and our heroes finding an unsettling face growing out of a tree stump

Freshly Cooked Face leads them in the right direction to some cliffs, and we get a nice heart to heart between Ash and the Wiseman, with Ash admitting he may not be able to protect him, while the Wise Man assures him "I shall not die by your hand for int he past or the future I shall always be your friend" which is both sweet… and poor phrasing as he gets stabbed in the back by the hand Knowby style. It's heartbreaking, as Ash silently digs his grave for two panels.. and then .. we get this

THIS is what I wanted from the first half: Ash dealing with the sheer weight of what he's been going through for the last few days. And not just this story: given the timeline the events of the Evil Dead Trilogy ALL occured over a week at MOST, with the first two occuring over TWO DAYS. Remember in that timespan everyone Ash knows dies, and even cutting it down to just Linda as Evil Dead II and Army of Darkness did, and this comic goes with, he lost the love of his life, had to fight his hand, went insane, got possed, got unpossed, and watched a bunch of people die, then got flung back in time, enslaved, fought more deadites, and came back only to set of fthese events. The guy has had maybe a few moments to relax over this nightmare of a day. So him breaking down again felt.. right. He lost someone AGAIN, coudln't save someone AGAIN and by god if he coudlnt' do that much he'll fucking end this if nothing else.

We soon get some fun but enough time was spent on him mourning Wise Man that it dosen't feel like mood whiplash. We get Ash Indying it up, which i'm happy for: i'm sure had Rami had the budget he would've done somethign like this and Bruce still got to fight a mummy with the previously covered Bubba Hotep, but ash growing a giant beard then fightin ga buncho f mummies just.. reallyf its with the franchise. As does more hand slapstick of course. We also catch up with past ash as he finishes army of darkness… and as his hand slinks of to become MUMMY EVIL ASH

This is what I meant: you either gotta go full tilt rediculous, if still with some depth or sink into the horror and while they tried doing the former it dosen't work with a cabin in the woods, as said cabin has so much trauma for Ash it's weird he's not more phased by this. In contrast S-Marts Employee of the month carving his way through deadite mummies? MUMMY Ash? That.. that is truly

So we're onto the final issue, with Ash trying to force his way through a puzzle. Naturally this results in no air, and I mean how's he going to breathe with no air, how can he hear when we ain't there, no air. No air. Also little green ash's because FUCK YES.

Ash eventually puts the book in a slot for it but the ole Williams Luck strickes again adn it instead takes things outside.. and he's too busy to go play fetch as Mummy ash has rasied an army of the dead, and while we get a cool fight between the two including Ash suckering The Bad Ash with his mechanical fist, he's soon overwhelmed as they beg him to join us and die. He quickly plan chainsaw's his way out of it but by the The Bad Ash has the book.

Just as it looks it for Ash… cue… Ash as hsi past self rides in with Arthur, the Wise Man and a whole fuckload of guys on horses to turn the tide, stabbing his evil self in the back. Wait shoudlnt' this be called Ashes 2 Ashes Funk 3 Ashes? Eh, Sematnics I guess. The two ashes time merge and we get a kickass battle as Arthur clears the way for his best bro Ash.

With the Wise Man's advice, ash creates a ring of fire to cast the present day book into hell, cleverly using the gas cap from his chainsaw to ignite it aroudn the bad ash, sending him and his minons straight to hell…. and into one pissed off Imps office I assume.

So we end with everyone going back in.. and Ash being ash forgot to toss the book in. We also get a great bit of the wiseman, when ash dosen't show his alternate future self, realizing he's dead. Ash rides off into over a hundred more issues as we end this series.

Ashes 2 Ashes is a VERY uneven mini series: The first half wastes a BRILLIANT premise both due to rights issues out of it's control and tonal issues VERY much in it's control and has very messy paneling in a few spots, but the second half is a fun, kickass adventure tale in the style of Army of Darkness that more than makes up for it. The art is passable, nothing special but nothing that drags it down. Overall if your curious it's a quick and fun enough read to be worth the time and not a half bad way to kick things off. Not the best start these comics could've asked for, but still pretty groovy. Next time we take a look at another attempt to start over again with only one movie to go off of later this month. Until then follow for more reviews, consider joining my patreon, sorry I havne't been read morning lately (I didn't know the whole continue reading thing was just on the dash, my bad, ) and thanks for reading.

#army of darkness #evil dead #ash williams #dynamite entertainment #halloween #comics #horror #evil ash #little goody two shoes

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not-poignant · 1 year

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Pia have you watched mr robot (I just randomly felt like it would be your kinda show, lots of trauma exploration etc)

Okay!

So this is like my 7th anon in a couple of weeks asking me about random shows so firstly:

I have a fandom blog. It's here at @capillata! That's where I generally do all of my 'these are the shows I'm watching right now' stuff. The not_poignant blog is specifically for my writing, and while I don't mind answering random questions sometimes, lately almost all the questions I've been getting have been random, and I'm this close to instituting a 'I will only answer random question if you put in a writing/story question at the same time' tax lmao, but anyway, I'm not at that point yet. I've just started thinking about it, because sakljfdsafsadklj

(Also for those playing at home, for everyone one of these I answer, I've been deleting others lol, this one seemed relevant to what I write and I wanted to explain that grimdark really does ruin everything, including trauma recovery narratives).

And then secondly: I have tried watching Mr Robot twice. Both times I've found its extreme grimdark pathos very offputting and outright boring, with its washed out aesthetic and need to prove that everyone is corrupt or corruptible extremely tedious.

(Everything from here on in is also critical).

The trauma exploration is milquetoast in seasons 1 and 2 and I hear it gets better around late season 3 and season 4 but I'm never interested enough to get there, despite the fact that it has some subjects I'm personally very interested in. I really like Rami Malek but he wasn't enough to get me through the 'oh great everyone sucks and everything is awful nearly all the time' vibe.

Maybe one day I'll try watching Mr Robot a third time (I find it so unmemorable I always have to start again from the beginning). But I know it's boring enough that I'd need to have something else to do at the same time to get through it.

I have never liked reading, writing or watching grimdark-style shows where very few good things happen and when they do, the good is bleached out of them extremely quickly. I really wanted to love Mr Robot when it first came out, and gave it a really good try, and then got bored of it's teenage edgelord-style writing, which I can read / access at any first year university script writing course.

It had really great moments. Great moments of scripting, great moments of cinematography, and of course some excellent acting. Unfortunately the structure wasn't enough to make those great moments worthwhile. I'm pretty sure I tried it again last year and found it worse than the first watch-through, which didn't help matters much.

#personal #asks and answers #random asks by random people #is maybe going to be my new tag for this stuff #i really don't like all trauma recovery #it's why *i* don't write grimdark trauma recovery #because i don't like it in general #besides that's actually not the focus of the show despite it being #foreshadowed heavily in the show #it takes SUCH a long time to get to the actual trauma recovery part #and it just wasn't enough dsalfkjdsa #maybe season 4 or the later seasons would have made everything else worthwhile #but i am not someone who can hang out for that kind of payoff anon

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devine-star · 2 years

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I am going to take inspiration from a few other blogs and now set down this rule!

If you want NSFW stuff, you must have an age in your bio in order for me to write it!

I just don't want to be writing NSFW for minors cause it makes me feel gross.

If you are sending a NSFW anon, shoot me a DM and lmk youre over the age of 18 (must have your age in your bio) and I will respond to the anon and keep your identity a secret.

I write for: Eddie Munson, Gavin Reed, Newt (The Maze Runner), Josh Washington, The Last Of Us (Part 1 & 2!), The Quarry, Connor (DBH), Rami Malek's characters, Steven Grant, Marc Spector Jake Lockley, BTS, And some more I can't remember rn! Just ask and if I do I'll write it!

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rjalker · 2 years

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Giving it its own post, originally made with speech to text.

People saw people saying they want more trans stories that aren't about being trans as that as the whole entire plot and decided oh so that means that all trans stories should never actually talk about anything about being trans, right?

And now they think trans rep means a character that doesn't ask anyone else's pronouns who is never asked its pronouns despite using it/it pronouns, and mentions like maybe twice or so that it doesn't have a gender because it doesn't have any genitals, because the author equates sex with gender as she has proven many times in the other books she's written, and now people think this is the best trans rep ever because it...

...doesn't represent trans people at all.

Because the one time the author decided to include a human nonbinary character, that character was immediately shoved off screen and never seen again. After being just a few short scenes and fewer sentences actually about Rami, te was immediately shoved out of the story. And there was literally nothing stopping Martha Wells from making Rami the "human of the week" for that book, and then she just decided not to do that.

Why?

The only conclusion is transphobia.

Literally.

That's the only fucking explanation for Martha Wells deciding not to make Rami, the tercera who uses te/ter pronouns, the "human of the week". Transphobia. There's no excuses for this at all.

It's literally just transphobia.

Introduce Rami long enough to make the story look good, then shove ter off screen never to be seen again lol. That’s transphobia.

Don't try to defend this, by the way, there's literally no defense. It’s literally just transphobia in its most basic and obvious form.

Martha Wells introduced the first and only nonbinary human character in this series and then immediately shoved ter offscreen, never to be seen again for the rest of that book and so far this whole series.

That's transphobia.

No ifs, ands, or buts.

There was no law that said Martha Wells could only have one human character hang out with Murderbot in that book.

There's literally no reason Rami couldn't have been the one to stay, or they all stayed.

The reason Martha Wells gave Rami the equivalent of five minutes of screentime before shoving ter offscreen is transphobia. This is a fact. It cannot be argued. It's literally just a fact.

If you want your story to be considered trans representation, it is in fact /not enough/ to just have trans characters exist in the story.

You have to actually acknowledge that people are trans and discuss in /some fucking form/ what that means.

This does not mean you need to have 50,000 pages of speeches and monologuing or out of place infodumping.

It does, in fact, mean that your characters should at some point be asking other characters what their pronouns are. You know? The way trans peopel do? Somebody at some fucking point should be asking your protagonist what pronouns they use, you know, the way trans people do, especially if your fucking protagonist is nonbinary and hangs out with people who are apparently accepting of trans people, (except not really because The Murderbot Diaries doesn't have any actual trans characters in it, so we don't actually know how these characters feel about trans people because Martha Wells hasn't bothered to write any.)

Unless Martha Wells heavily retroactively fixes the problems with this series, and retroactively fixes the “nonbinary robot” stereotype that Murderbot is, Murderbot isn't even trans.

It was assigned mechanical and genital-less at birth and it agrees with that.

Its not trans just because its nonbinary when it's nonbinary /because it's a robot who doesn't have genitals and all robots who don't have genitals are assigned nonbinary at construction./

Because Martha Wells still in 2022 or whenever the last book came out, still equates sex with gender.

Despite saying that she was inspired by a book series that within /the first few pages/ addresses pronouns and gender. And has a protagonist that literally never assumes anyone's gender and goes out of the way to not assume people's genders and is constantly making an effort not to misgender anyone.

Meanwhile Martha Wells has a nonbinary protagonist who has literally never told anyone what its pronouns are, and has never had anybody ask it what its pronouns are, because everybody just knows what its pronouns are because those are the pronouns assigned to all genital-less robots at construction.

Because Martha Wells thinks sex is the same thing as gender.

And is now literally just assigning all robots it/its pronouns and genderlessness because they don't have genitals. And this would be fine if there were actual trans characters in the book.

Humans who are non-binary who are not immediately shoved off screen.

Robots who are non-binary in a different way than just oh yeah I don't have genitals so therefor I don't have gender.

Trans binary robots who have binary genders or trinary genders or whatever the fuck else is going on in the space age society.

Even if Martha Wells had just made it so constructs all get assigned a gender at birth, and when Murderbot hacked its governer module it retroactively edited its gender assignment to be “indeterminate” and changed its pronouns to “it/its” on all company data. (and if any of the humans who work for the company even pay enough attention to the constructs to recognize Murderbot and realize its pronouns have changed, none of them get fucking paid enough to bring this little discrepancy to anyone higher-up’s attention, because rocking the boat unecesarily gets you punished/fired and they aren’t paid enough to give a shit anyway, so it just goes unreported because that’s how capitalism works)

Like, tercera very blatantly means “third”, so that is a third gender, that system has a gender trinary instead of a gender binary. But Martha Wells couldn't even be bothered to say this (or maybe I should say, “didn’t even figure this out”), she just said “yeah that's that person's gender, and this is going to be literally the only nonbinary human in this entire series of six books and two short stories.”

I've said it before and I'm going to keep saying it: unless Martha Wells gets her shit together and starts actually talking to trans and nonbinary people and getting sensitivity readers before she publishes the next Murderbot Diaries book (assuming there's going to be a next one at all) don't tell people this book series is great trans representation, because there are literally zero trans characters in it.

We don't even have proof that Rami is even trans, because like I said, tercera could literally just (And based on Martha Wells’ writings involving gender so far, probably literally is) be yet another gender you get Assigned at Birth in that planetary system.

We don't know, because Martha Wells didn't even give enough shits to make Rami the human of the week for that single fucking book, or talk about what tercera means at all.

And yes, people, I am fucking aware that Murderbot’s the narrator and Murderbot doesn’t give a shit about human genders. That’s still literally not an excuse. Don’t act like it is. Just because Murdrebot doesn’t give a shit about something doesn’t mean it’s fucking illegal for Martha Wells to include it in this series.

Do not use “Well Murderbot wouldn’t care enough to mention it” to defend the casual transphobia in this series. Martha Wells has been casually transphobic for years now in her writing. If you’ve read The Books of the Raksura, you’ll know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t, you’ll either just have to take my word for it, or go read those books to see it for yourself. Find them in your local library. Buy them online somewhere. Pirate them. What the fuck ever.

Martha Wells equates sex with gender. That’s just a fact. It’s a very unfortunate and transphobic fact. I hope to hell she fucking unlearns this casual transphobia before she publishes the next book, assuming there is a next book at all. I hope she actually starts talking to and listening to trans and nonbinary people before she publishes the next book.

I hope she learns to stop equating sex with gender and learns to be less transphobic and puts in a concerted effort to reduce and remove the transphobia that’s in The Murderbot Diaries whether some of you want to admit it or not.

Admitting that The Murderbot Diaries and Martha Wells’ view of gender is shit doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to enjoy or love these books. It means you give enough shits to want them to be better.

I don’t spend this much time talking about the casual transphobia in these books because I want Martha Wells to be burnt at the stake. I want her to learn and stop being so transphobic and actually do better.

I want The Murderbot Diaries to actually become the great trans representation everyone pretends it is.

If no one talks about the transphobia in these books, it’ll never get fixed. Pretending like it’s not there doesn’t stop it from having harmful impacts on trans people.

Like, for fuck’s fucking sake, Martha Wells’ refusal to have Murderbot ever tell or ask pronouns is the reason so many fucking transphobes in this fandom, here on tumblr and everywhere else fans of this series exist, refuse to use it/its pronouns for Murderbot and think they’re allowed to misgender it and assigned it whatever gender they want.

It is in fuckign fact literally Martha Wells’ fault that so many fans of this series think they can project whatever gender and pronouns they want onto Murderbot. Because she hasn’t done shit to correct them. No one ever asks Murderbot its pronouns. Murderbot never tells anyone its pronouns.

The first book is so shit at this that most people come away having no idea that Murderbot actually uses it/its pronouns and just fucking assume that those are what it’s being called because it’s still being viewed as not-a-person.

And that’s on Martha Wells. That is in fact 100% her fault. She’s the author. It’s literally her job to convey this information to the audience. And she didn’t do that at all.

If you want to be able to say that your books or stories are great trans representation, then yes you do in fact actually need to talk about trans things and talk about gender and talk about pronouns.

You can't just say “oh yes this character is trans and that is never going to come up or impact anything or do anything in the story at all or even actually exist within the story besides me saying this character is trans.” That is the equivalent of fucking JK Rowling saying Dumbledore was gay on twitter, but now trying to act like it's actually progressive if a character’s queerness impacts nothing and does not come up at all in the story, ever -.-

Like, you can write your Escapist Utopia™ where everybody's casually trans and nonbinary if you want, but if you literally never actually talk about anything about being trans, including just the most basic shit of having your characters wear pronouns pins or have their pronousn in thier bios or ask eachother what pronouns they use, then no, you don’t get to act like that’s awesome trans representation when it doesn’t actually represent anything that trans people in the real world experience and do.

Literally. Martha Wells has her pronouns in her Twitter bio, but her fictional characters in six books and two short stories so far, who all have space age social media profiles on a magical scifi wifi that goes everywhere across planets and solar systems and through wormholes literally just list their fucking sex in their bio instead of their pronouns and not a single character in this entire series has ever asked another character what pronouns they use, or told someone else what their pronouns are, because Martha Wells has no idea what the fuck she's doing.

Even though she says she was inspired to write The Murderbot Diaries by The Imperial Radch series, where the author goes out of the way in /the first few pages of the fucking book/ to discuss pronouns and gender and then continues to do that throughout the book so fucking far.

Martha Wells says the book that discusses gender and pronouns in the first few pages and so far contiues to do so with every interaction between the protagonist and other characters inspired her series of short books where the protagonist uses neopronouns but literally fucking not a single character ever asks for or gives their pronouns in conversation and the topic of pronouns is literally never brought up to the point that probably half the people who read All Systems Red come away having no fucking clue that Murderbot’s pronouns are in fact it/its because Martha Wells chose not to fucking convey that information at all in the way she should have as a responsible author writing for a character that uses neopronouns that 90% of people are going to assume are only being used to insult it -.-

If Martha Wells was inspired by The Imperial Radch series, of which I am only on like chapter 5 of the first book of IDEK how many, then why the fucking hell has she been unable to accomplish in six books and two short stories so far what this book did within the first few pages, before the first scene was even complete?

I’ll tell you why:

Transphobia.

Casual, rampant transphobia that Martha Wells still hasn’t unlearned since she wrote The Books of the Raksura and had Moon in that last book constantly misgendering the kethel and refusing to ask the kethel what pronouns to use and literally had Moon switching from using he/him and it/its for the kethel depending entirely upon how much he felt like comitting a hate crime at the moment.

Martha Wells needs to unlearn her transphobic ideas if she wants The Murderbot Diaries to be trans representation and even begin to hold a candle to the book series that apparently inspired it.

I am on chapter 5 of a whole fucking novel of a whole series of full-length novels, and this book accomplished before the first scene was even over, in the first few pages, what Martha Wells has refused to even attempt for six books and two short stories now.

The Murderbot Diaries is filled with casual transphobia and these books will not be trans representation at all, let alone “great” trans representation, until Martha Wells unpacks her biases and learns not to be a transphobe.

These are just facts.

The Murdrebot Diaries could be great trans representation - but only if Martha Wells puts in the effort to unlearn her transphobia.

It's literally not difficult to not be a transphobe, but Martha Wells so far refuses to put in the effort to stop equating sex with gender. And until she does, her work will continue to be transphobic, whether she's doing it maliciously or out of ignorance, it's still transphobia, and it is still he responsibility to stop being transphobic.

If a book series who in the first few pages discusses gender and pronouns inspires you to write your own story, and your story literally never once discusses gender and pronouns, then you've just failed, entirely, at both honoring the story that inspired you, and as an author.

If 90% of people get done reading the first book in your series and have no earthly clue what pronouns they should be using for your protagonist because you couldn't be bothered to have it tell anyone or have anyone ask or even just have it explain its pronouns the way it explain that it's genderless because it's genital-less, you've failed entirely in your responsibility as an author and as a person that's apparently trying to be an ally to trans people.

I am not criticizing the transphobia in Martha Wells' writing (which is not limited to The Murderbot Diaries) because I want to burn her at the stake or for people to stop reading her books.

I am criticizing the transphobia in Martha Wells' writing because it's 2022 at the time of this post being written. Martha Wells can and has a responsibility to do better, she has the ability and responsibility to unlearn her transphobia and become an actual ally to trans people and stop writing nothing but stereotypes in her work and stop equating sex with gender and stop refusing to have any character discuss pronouns at all, despite Murderbot literally using neopronouns.

If no one is aware of the problem, the problem won't get fixed. If you want something to improve, you first have to admit that it's not working.

And Martha Wells' continued conflation of sex with gender has been ongoing since before she wrote The Books of The Raksura. It needs to be fixed. She needs to unpack her transphobic ideas and talk to and listen to trans and nonbinary people and she needs to fix the transphobia that's in The Murderbot Diaries.

The Murderbot Diaries is filled with casual transphobia that needs to be addressed. Pretending it's not there helps no one.

You cannot compare The Murderbot Diaries to The Imperial Radch in any way. That is already obvious to me and I'm only on chapter 5 of the first book in the whole series.

These series are playing on two completely different levels, and in terms of just willingness to talk about and address the issue of gender and pronouns, The Murderbot Diaries in its entirety, all 360-something thousand words of it, can't even begin to hold a candle to The Imperal Rachs' /first few pages/ just by themselves.

End of fucking line.

#Rjalker reads The Murderbot Diaries #The Murderbot Diaries #Rjalker reads Imperial Radch #Imperial Radch #Ancillary Justice #Martha Wells #Anne Leckie #long post #Murderbot

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