#Place Sainte-Anne
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Place Sainte-Anne, Rennes
#église#church#Place Sainte-Anne#façade#frontage#architecture#half-timbered#basilique#basilica#half-timbering#Rennes#Bretagne#Ille-et-Villaine#Breizh#outside#dehors#façades#frontages
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which streaming service has the most vintage movies? If you don't know, maybe your followers could answer? 🙏
Ooh hoo hoo you asked and I'll answer!!
I actually made a post like this for the hot men tournament, but I can't find it now so I'll do it again from scratch. The short answer is that I don't know of any one streaming service that has all the old vintage movies—but most streaming services have a "classics" genre category that can get you started. Here's a small selection of what you can find on different streaming services:
TUBI (free):
The Adventures of Robin Hood (Olivia de Havilland)
A Streetcar Named Desire (Vivien Leigh)
Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (Jane Powell, Julie Newmar)
North by Northwest (Eva Marie Saint)
The Music Man (Shirley Jones)
The Women (Norma Shearer, Rosalind Russell, Joan Crawford, Joan Fontaine, Paulette Goddard, several other hotties in small parts)
The Philadelphia Story (Katharine Hepburn, Ruth Hussey)
Notorious (Ingrid Bergman)
Bell, Book, and Candle (Kim Novak, Elsa Lanchester)
The Talk of the Town (Jean Arthur)
Dark Victory (Bette Davis)
Stray Dog (Keiko Awaji)
Some Like It Hot (Marilyn Monroe)
Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow (Sophia Loren)
Dirty Girtie From Harlem USA (Francine Everett)
Passport (Madhubala)
Dark Passage (Lauren Bacall)
Sepia Cinderella (Sheila Guyse)
On The Town (Ann Miller, Vera-Ellen, Betty Garrett)
The Bandwagon (Cyd Charisse)
Devar (Sharmila Tagore)
Reet-Petite and Gone (June Richmond)
The Postman Always Rings Twice (Lana Turner)
KANOPY (free through some libraries):
Dial M for Murder (Grace Kelly)
His Girl Friday (Rosalind Russell)
Ball of Fire (Barbara Stanwyck)
Black Orpheus (Marpessa Dawn)
Flower Drum Song (Reiko Sato, Nancy Kwan, Miyoshi Umeki)
Marriage Italian Style (Sophia Loren)
The Rose Tattoo (Anna Magnani)
Tokyo Story (Setsuko Hara)
War and Peace (Audrey Hepburn, Anita Ekberg)
Salt of the Earth (Rosaura Revueltas)
Metropolis (Brigitte Helm)
The Red Shoes (Moira Shearer)
HOOPLA (free through some libraries):
The Court Jester (Angela Lansbury, Glynis Johns)
Sunset Boulevard (Gloria Swanson)
A Place in the Sun (Elizabeth Taylor)
Barefoot in the Park (Jane Fonda)
The Barefoot Contessa (Ava Gardner)
Wings (Clara Bow)
YOUTUBE (has a lot of older movies that have slipped through copyright/are still up for some reason):
Charade (Audrey Hepburn)
Story Weather (Lena Horne)
Gilda (Rita Hayworth)
Rebecca (Joan Fontaine)
This entire playlist of Indian cinema that I just found (Madhubala, Waheeda Rehman, Nargis, Meena Kumari, etc.)
And that's just a small sample. There is also always your local library for physical DVDs, the Internet Archive, and....other methods.....if you know exactly what you're looking for.
I haven't seen all of these movies, so don't consider them personal recommendations—these are just famous movies with our hotties in them, so please be careful if you have content warnings. Good luck and have fun!
EDIT 5/16: Added a few more movies to the different sections, but this is still just a small selection of what the different streaming services have. Good luck!
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Chris Evans Fic Reccommendations
What’s a Tumblr? - @holylulusworld smut
Cockwarming - @nastybuckybarnes smut
Good Girls and Skype Calls - @youre-deadangel smut
Daddy’s Little Pet - @sinner-as-saint smut
A magical place - @fandomimaginestrash
F*** being friends - @smutsonian
Afternoon Delight - @christowhore smut
Wallets, Keys, and Bobby Pins - @marvelouscaptainrogers
Butterfly Effect - @fangirlovestuff
True Love - @coffee-with-bucky
Skinny - @stories-sometimes
Chaleur - @moonstruckbucky smut
I’m different - @fantastic-fantasy-fanfics
For a smile - @anika-ann
I knew you would - @slowly-writing
Basket Boy - @needleandhammer
The beauty within everything - @iguana-eyanna
Prom dates and broken hearts - @rogersevans
America’s sweetheart - @generallynerdy
A long, long time - @dem-obscure-imagines
What’s in his heart - @waiting4inspiration
Kiss cam - @thegettingbyp2
Say you love me - @bonky-n-steeb smut
Kiss cam - @speechlessxx
Got you - @hispecticulartreasure smut
Golden boy - @bucksfucks smut
Guys my age - @bucksfucks smut
Ruin our friendship - @bucksfucks smut
Pollen talks - @wadedickpool smut
Nature’s beauty - @biteofcherry smut
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i'm not a gaylor, couldn't care less about that woman, but ngl that thread got me thinking. do you think it would be fair to posit that classic pop fandom presumes heterosexuality from the female stars it consumes? the figure of the diva specifically feels very straight woman centered, the only exception i can think of being maybe lady gaga. well i guess everything presumes heterosexuality from everyone, but it does feel slightly different in this case imo
I think it's a fair observation. A lot of gay men, starting in childhood, strongly identify with women in media. As kids without known queer friends or role models, who knew we didn't relate to most other boys, we often thought of ourselves as more similar to girls. I obviously can't say this is universal among gay men but it's common enough that, for example, I can talk about how badly I wanted to be Anne Hathaway with a group of like minded gays and no one will find it unusual. Others will even chime in with the women they wanted to be! And I think this sort of identification often comes down to identification with women as desiring agents (making it easier to express attraction to men) and as siblings in abjection. Like, the boys are mean to you? Us too. Let's play house at recess about it.
I make it sound very adolescent, and that's where it seems to start, but it's also because there's no guarantee it will turn into any sophisticated friendship or political affiliation with women. I think diva worship, fag/hag relations, and anything similar are morally neutral. It can speak to genuine interest and support, or it can be a patronizing charade that refuses to relate to women beyond an expected shared attraction to men. I can't say that diva worship is any one thing because it can come from a place of genuine respect for a woman's artistry and be a symbolic outlet of gender expression or a parasocial mess.
Lady Gaga is herself an interesting example because yes, she is bisexual, but that doesn't really come up in her diva treatment. But the example of Taylor Swift, as discussed in the thread you're mentioning, is also unusual. The accusation, for the unacquainted, is that gay men aren't sympathetic to "Gaylor" because they want her to be straight so they can give her the diva treatment. But, and I mean no offense by this, that's not really the reason most people like her. Everything about her public image is too personal and "relatable" for her to fit that larger-than-life mold. Clearly that works for her, clearly that has yielded results, but personally I find her most interesting when she knows she's delivering a fantasy. If this seems like a superficial way of viewing art, I would counter that treating an artist as a detached patron saint of glamour and obsessing over every detail of their personal life are two sides of the same parasocial coin.
I think the ideas that are really in conflict in the "Gaylor" vs "Hetlor" debate (and for the love of God come up with a more tasteful name for the latter) is not really whether Taylor Swift is queer or straight. I'm sure you'll agree that not being onboard with Gaylor does not mean someone has a specific investment in her heterosexuality, because most of us don't really care. The conflict is between two different ways of relating to art. Rather, it's about relating versus resonating. Even if Taylor Swift is gay, hardly anything about her life, as might be explained by her wikipedia page, is relatable. But maybe one resonates with the pressures of having to please everyone, to the dehumanization of men's "Madonna-whore" complex towards women, to heartbreak, to dancing it all away. And maybe one specifically relates from a queer perspective. Go for it! It's unfortunate that Creep by Radiohead has a bad reputation, because I and a lot of other queer people find it really resonant. I don't get crushes on straight guys like I used to, but when I did it was humiliating! It wasn't the prospect of their rejection that hurt, but the idea of being repulsive and looking in from the outside at a world you will never belong to. It speaks to a queer perspective, but I don't have to wonder if this was intentional or if Thom Yorke himself is gay to see it.
I think, memes aside, the Internet is excessively cruel to Swifties. Even with Gaylors, I feel for their need to identify with an artist they feel feel expresses an underrepresented point of view. No, James Somerton, a handful of children's cartoons does not prove that lesbians are winning the representation war. But I also want to say to them that, a perceived lack of representation aside, no one is forcing you to speculate about this woman's sexuality. If she is just as straight as she claims to be, that doesn't have to ruin your queer readings of her work. If a straight woman sang the words "you can want who you want; boys and boys and girls and girls," and it came from the heart, good for her.
This was all very characteristically meandering of me and only kind of answered your question. I agree that a lot of gay men's interest in women is stunted by the expectation that they could only bond over shared attraction to men. I think gay men owe queer women the world. I also just don't really think this applies to the Gaylor thing. She is, as far as anyone knows and as far as she herself has stated, a heterosexual woman. That said, I do agree that the lesbian diva is an under-explored archetype that I'd love to learn more about.
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Just got done spewing some facts under a video supporting Priscilla and her “movie” I thought I’d share them here:
So many people here are uneducated and will blindly believe everything Priscilla says because she’s a woman and it’s edgy to hate on Elvis.
1. Elvis was never actually wanting to date or marry Priscilla he was with an actress very much his age that was back home while he was in Germany. He just saw Prissy as someone to talk to. She has so many issues with her yandere type fan tendencies being obsessive over a man she wasn’t even with in the first place and who didn’t give her a second thought
2. She did NOT hopelessly wait around for Elvis after he left she continued to play several different guys and she did have a very normal high school experience she went to dances and football games
3. Prissy’s father blackmailed Elvis into marrying her. Elvis did NOT want to marry Priscilla
4. Yes, Elvis cheated but not until after Priscilla cheated first with her dance instructor. She’d also call him while she was doing the deed so he could hear
5. Priscilla said herself the chair scene is highly inaccurate. Elvis was angry on the phone with the Colonel and threw a chair to the wall as Priscilla was walking in the room and he immediately apologized and said he didn’t see her come in
6. She constantly changes her story and her book she said herself isn’t accurate because she said if she didn’t make it dramatic enough it wouldn’t sell
7. For those who might say “she’s a child, she can’t do no wrong she didn’t know what she was doing” at 14 I was well aware of shit and what I did. And I know she did too she wasn’t some innocent angel
8. She’s an awful mother to Lisa Marie. Actively dated and let a man around Lisa that had said he had inappropriate feelings for Lisa when she was a child
9. Got with a married man who had a PREGNANT wife. Yes it’s also the man’s fault but she knew damn well he was married and his wife was pregnant
10. She cannot stop talking bs about Elvis cause he’s the only reason she’s relevant. In contrast to one of (what I believe to be) Elvis’ true loves Ann Margaret who only says nice things about him but she also had a career before meeting him
All in all, yes Elvis had some flaws but people spread misinformation about him all the time just like they do with Michael Jackson. Priscilla is no saint, she’s a lying gold digger who only cared about money in the first place. Not to mention she was laughing at Elvis’s funeral so if she truly was “in love” then why would she do such an awful thing by laughing? She continues to use the Presley name even though Elvis told her not to after they divorced and constantly spew lies and drop his name over and over again. She’s told her story countless times, this movie was slander towards a man who cannot defend himself. Like I said Elvis wasn’t a saint either but you need to take off the rose colored glasses and see both sides of the story. Thank you.
#elvis presley#elvis presley x reader#priscilla presley#Elvis movie#Priscilla movie#lisa marie presley
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isaac's books in heartstopper s2
episode 1:
Tillie Walden: I Love This Part
Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé: Ace of Spades
episode 2:
Nina LaCour: We Are Okay
Oscar Wilde: The Importance of Being Earnest
episode 3:
Ocean Vuong: Night Sky with Exit Wounds (the one he is carrying under his arm, I'm assuming that's his and not for the display?)
has read:
Ritch C. Savin-Williams: Bi: Bisexual, Pansexual, Fluid, and Nonbinary Youth
Emily Henry: Book Lovers
episode 4:
Victor Hugo: Les Misérables
Antoine De Saint-Exupéry: The Little Prince
Kate Chopin: The Awakening
Nina LaCour: We Are Okay (again)
episode 5:
Albert Camus: The Outsider
episode 6:
Martin Handford: Where's Wally? The Great Picture Hunt
Meredith Russo: Birthday
Jules Verne: Around the World in Eighty Days
Sara Pennypacker: Pax
Anne Berest, Audrey Diwan, Caroline de Maigret, Sophie Mas: How to Be Parisian Wherever You Are
?
?
?
Damian Dibben: The Color Storm
Alice Oseman: Loveless
Susan Stokes-Chapman: Pandora
Katy Hessel: The Story of Art Without Men
?
Evelyn Waugh: Rossetti
Arthur Conan Doyle: The Hound of the Baskervilles
A.O. Scott: Better Living Through Criticism
?: Then We Came to an End (?)
Ruth Millington: Muse
Dr. Jaqui Lewis: Fierce Love
Charlotte Van Den Broek: Bold Ventures - Thirteen Tales of Architectural Tragedy
?
Richard Siken: Crush
episode 7:
Garrard Conley: Boy Erased
George Matthew Johnson: All Boys Aren't Blue
Samra Habib: We Have Always Been Here
episode 8:
Akemi Dawn Bowman: Summer Bird Blue
Angela Chen: Ace
bonus:
Truham school library pride display (seen in ep. 3 and 8):
top to bottom, left to right:
Angela Chen: Ace
Andrew Holleran: The Kingdom of Sand
Mary Jean Chan and Andrew McMillan: 100 Queer Poems
Scott Stuart: My Shadow Is Pink
Lotte Jeffs: My Magic Family
Tucker Shaw: When You Call My Name
Ritch C. Savin-Williams: Bi - Pansexual, Fluid, Nonbinary and Fluid Youth
Alok Vaid-Menon: Beyond the Gender Binary
George M. Johnson: All Boys Aren’t Blue
Mason Deaver: I Wish You All the Best
Alex Gino: George Melissa
on top of shelves (left to right):
Kevin Van Whye: Nate Plus One
Xixi Tian: This Place is Still Beautiful
Becky Albertalli: Leah on the Offbeat
Mya-Rose Craig: Birdgirl
Bernardine Evaristo: Girl, Woman, Other
Connie Glynn: Princess Ever After
Saundra Mitchell: The Prom
Charlie's choice at Shakespeare and Co (ep. 6):
Allan Hollinghurst: The Swimming Pool Library
That's it for now.
Sorry about the ones i couldn't identify and sorry if i missed any! Might try and do some of the ones in Isaac's room later but that'll take a minute
#hearstopper#heartstopper s2#isaac henderson#books#shakespeare and company#lgbt#charlie spring#alice oseman#aspec#aroace#aromantic#asexual#heartstopper season 2
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pick a card– which book speaks to your soul?
You read something which you thought only happened to you, and you discover that it happened 100 years ago to Dostoyevsky. This is a very great liberation for the suffering, struggling person, who always thinks that he is alone. This is why art is important.
—Conversations with James Baldwin.
this is my love letter to all the bookworms in the tarot community— pick a pile & i'll give you a list of genres + book suggestions carrying important messages to you.
I. THE FIRST
To the daydreamers and the escapists; to the ones that need to rest before following what you need follow.
RELEVANT GENRES & CONCEPTS– fiction in general; romance; fantasy; fairytale; poetry; ‘happy ever after’ endings; hopeful endings; fantasy; magic; dreamy.
AUTHORS – Ursula K. Le Guin; Louise Gluck; Mary Oliver; Jane Austen.
BOOKS FOR YOU–
‘The Paper Garden: An Artist Begins Her Life’s Work at 72 – Molly Peacock'
‘Good Bones – Maggie Smith’
‘If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho – Translation by Anne Carson’
‘Owls and Other Fantasies – Mary Oliver’
‘Dog Songs – Mary Oliver’
‘Emma – Jane Austen’
‘Howl’s Moving Castle – Diana Wynne Jones’
‘The Little Prince – Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’
‘Death Comes for the Archbishop – Willa Cather’
‘Sonnets from the Portuguese – Elizabeth Barrett Browning’
‘The Hawk and the Dove – Penelope Wilcock’
‘The Secret Life of the Lonely Doll: The Search for Dare Wright’
‘The Ink Dark Moon – Ono no Komachi & Izumi Shikibu’
‘Alice in Wonderland – Lewis Carroll’
‘The Letters of Vita Sackville-West and Virginia Woolf’
‘Little Women – Louisa May Alcott’
‘Anne of Green Gables – L.M. Montgomery’
‘Kissing the Witch: Old Tales in New Skins – Emma Donoghue’
II. THE SECOND
For the ones that carry the ache to learn and know everything; to the ones bored with life's commodities & seriousness. For the ones that question everything around them – as they should do.
You do not need to fit in. Don't change yourself for other people. If they want to see you this way, then become the proud witch in the edge of the woods.
RELEVANT GENRES & CONCEPTS– books on 'niche' knowledge; science; philosophy; true crime; drama; scandalous romances; adventure, magical realism; YA thriller & horror; comedy & sardonic comedy; ‘controversial’/'weird' books.
AUTHORS– Carmen Maria Machado, Kate Moore, Grady Hendrix.
BOOKS FOR YOU–
‘My Sister, The Serial Killer – Oyinkan Braithwaite'
‘The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales – Oliver Sacks'
‘St. Lucy’s Home for Girls Raised by Wolves – Karen Russell'
‘Spook: Science Tackles the Afterlife – Mary Roach’
‘The Hitchhiker Guide to Galaxy – Douglas Adams'
‘Inferno – Dante Alighieri'
'Magic for Beginners – Kelly Link'
‘Lace Bone Beast: Poems & Other Fairytales for Wicked Girls – N.L. Shompole'
‘Severed: A History of Heads Lost and Heads Found – Frances Larson’
'The Woman They Could Not Silence – Kate Moore'
‘The Dictionary of Lost Words – Pip Williams'
‘She Kills Me: The True Stories of History’s Deadliest Women – Jennifer Wright’
‘Anatomy: A Love Story – Dana Schwartz'
‘Pretty Dead Queens – Alexa Donne'
‘I’m Glad My Mom Died – Jennette McCurdy'
'Rabid: A Cultural History of the World's Most Diabolical Virus – Bill Wasik'
‘Chilling Adventures of Sabrina – Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa’
III. THE THIRD
You need to put your sadness somewhere. If you can't, remember that someone has done it before – and transformed it into a story. Let the words you'll read be the resting place for whatever you're feeling right now; let yourself remember that not even your pain is lonely in this world.
RELEVANT GENRES AND CONCEPTS— poetry; gothic horror; thrillers; murder mysteries; tragedies; cathartic stories; biographies.
AUTHORS– Shirley Jackson, Osamu Dazai, Clarice Lispector, Sylvia Plath.
BOOKS FOR YOU—
'The Year of Magical Thinking – Joan Didion'
‘The Dead – James Joyce'
‘What The Living Do – Marie Howe'
‘The Hour of the Star – Clarice Lispector'
‘Why This World: A Biography of Clarice Lispector’
‘Some of Us Did Not Die – June Jordan'
Somewhere Towards the End – Diana Athill'
‘We Have Always Lived in The Castle – Shirley Jackson'
'Heaven: A Novel – Mieko Kawakami'
'Journal of a Solitude – May Sarton'
'Jane Eyre – Charlotte Bronte'
'Grief is the Thing with Feathers – Max Porter'
‘Carrie – Stephen King'
'Of Dogs and Walls – Yuko Tsushima'
'Frankenstein – Mary Shelley'
'The Stepping Off Place – Cameron Kelly'
'Letters to Milena – Franz Kafka'
‘Beloved – Toni Morrison'
#pac#pick a card#pick a card reading#pick a pile#pick a pile reading#pick a deck#tarot reading#tarot#tarot reader#cartomancy#divination#witchblr#witchcraft#witch#tarotblr#tarotdaily#intuitive#tarot community#tarot cards#tarotonline#free tarot readings
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only one of you is going to make it and you’re afraid it's going to be you, or, alternatively: you are standing by the tragic hero and it is looking rough out there-
( @lasilhouetteinbianco i did it there’s moby. whoo)
A History of My Brief Body, Billy-Ray Belcourt | Antigonick, Sophokles trans. Anne Carson | The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry | Doña Juana “la Loca” (1877), Francisco Pradilla | Giovanni’s Room, James Baldwin | THE TRAGIC HERO UPON REACHING THE END OF THE SCRIPT REALIZES HE HAS BEEN DEAD THIS WHOLE TIME, Joan Tierney | Wishbone, Richard Siken | Orpheus and Eurydice, George Frederic Watts | Bitter Water, The Oh Hellos | Sonnet 116, William Shakespeare | YOUR LOVE FINDS ITS WAY BACK, Sierra Mulder | Nymphs Finding the Head of Orpheus (detail, 1905), John William Waterhouse | Wishbone, Richard Siken | Richard Siken, in an interview with James Hall | Moby Dick, Herman Melville | Weeping Nude (1913-14), Edvard Munch | Love and Pain (1895), Edvard Munch | Metamorphoses, Ovid
[ID: An assortment of various quotes, lyrics, and paintings from a variety of sources.
1. To love someone / is firstly to confess: I’m prepared / to be devastated by you.
2. Ismene: I can help you suffer. // Antigone: No. // Ismene: I can give you reasons not to die. // Antigone: No.
3. And he took me by the hand. But he was still worrying. “It was wrong of you to come. You will suffer. I shall look like I was dead, and that will not be true...” I said nothing.
4. A painting of a young woman dressed in black. She stands in blank despair beside a casket in an open field. She is surrounded by a procession of numerous mourners, as smoke from a behind her rises into the air.
5. What are we staying here for? How long do you / want to sit in this house, eating your heart out?
6. You are kneeling at the water’s throne / When preparing for an ending scene / It’s important that / Swords drop like anchors / Yours will never rise again / I am watching from the cowberries, or / From your mother’s curtains, as if / Through a burial shroud, or
7. And it’s another wrong-man-dies scenario / and we keep doing it, Henry, / keep saying until we get it right... but we / always win and we never quit.
8. A painting of Orpheus and Eurydice at the entrance to Hades. Orpheus, in a toga, reaches out to catch Eurydice as she goes limp and pale, soul having returned to the Underworld. In the background a dead tree trunk can be seen.
9. I am not a fool entire / No, I know what is coming / You will bury me beneath the tree / I climbed when I was a child
10. Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, / But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
11. My throat is a beehive pitched into the river. Look! / Look how long my love can hold it’s breath.
12. A painting of Orpheus’ head floating down a river after being torn apart by the Maenads. His face is turned upward, with pale skin and long red hair. His lyre floats beside him, alongside numerous lily pads and lilies.
13. See, we’ve won again / here we are at the place where I get to beg / for it where I get to say, Please,
14. Eventually something you love is going to be taken away. And then you will fall to the floor crying. And then, however much later, it is finally happening to you: you’re falling to the floor crying thinking, “I am falling to the floor crying,” but there’s an element of the ridiculous to it — you knew it would happen and, even worse, while you’re on the floor crying you look at the place where the wall meets the floor and you realize you didn’t paint it very well.
15. “...Sleeping? Aye, toil how we may, we all sleep on the field. Sleep? Aye, and rust amidst greenness; as last years scythes flung down, and left in the half-cut swathes — Starbuck!” But blanched to a corpse’s hue with despair, the Mate had stolen away.
16. A painting of a nude woman sitting upon her bed, hunched over with her head in her hands and legs sprawled. She appears to be weeping. Her long, dark hair, spills around her shoulders and into her lap.
17. A painting of a woman and a man embracing each other. The woman has warm skin and long red hair, which spills over and contrasts with the man’s pale, grey skin. She buries her face into his nape, and he into her arms.
18. But when she saw him in his hapless plight, / though angry at his scorn, she only grieved. End ID.]
#webweaving#web weaving#oh god this one was a MONSTER#christ.#woe be upon ye#you know the drill#retribution#thornwhirr#dustmill#hiuhcore#wubweaving
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In 2021 the limited series on the career of designer Halston (Roy Halston Frowick, portrayed by Ewan McGregor) waltzed down Netflix's catwalk. Now we have at least three series chronicling the lives and careers of designers.
Currently on Disney+ in Europe is the exquisite CRISTÓBAL BALENCIAGA centering on, guess who? Spanish designer Cristobal Balenciaga, starring Alberto San Juan (Reyes De La Noche) as Balenciaga.
It's an interesting story about this enigmatic fashion genius that shows his steadfastness in his devotion to fashion to the sacrifice, some may say, of ethics due to the fact that while other fashion houses were shut down during Germany's occupation of some parts of France, he readily made clothes for the significant others of German soldiers.
The series also shines a light on Balenciaga's relationship with his creative partner and love-of-his-life Wladzio d'Attainville (played by Thomas Coumans).
Among the designers who appear or are name-checked in CRISTÓBAL BALENCIAGA is Christian Dior and Coco Chanel. These two fashion legends will appear in AppleTV+'s upcoming mini-series THE NEW LOOK with Ben Mendelsohn as Dior and Juliette Binoche as Coco Chanel and takes place during Germany's occupation of France.
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THE NEW LOOK will feature covers of classics by Florence + and The Machine, Lana del Rey, The 1975, Perfume Genius and more.
Sometimes this year (at least I hope this year) will be KAISER KARL (apparently the title may be changed) starring Daniel Brühl as Kunty Karl Lagerfeld
centering on him as a 38-year old trying to break into the Parisian world of high fashion where he finds himself in competition with he finds himself in competition with French fashion giants like Yves Saint Laurent.
The only Yves Saint Laurent depiction worth a damn. RIP beautiful Gaspard Ulliel
What is fashion if there's no one to wear it? For example, the high society ladies that will be depicted in the upcoming installment of FX's FEUD: CAPOTE VS. THE SWANS.
Hopefully this series will do justice to the mythos behind writer Truman Capote's nuclear fall out with the so-called Swans - a moniker Capote gave the socialites whose company he kept and whose secrets he didn't.
Playing Capote is Tom Hollander
Naomi Watts as Babe Paley, wife of CBS founder William S. Paley (which the annual PaleyFest is named after), Diane Lane as Slim Keith, ex-wife of famed director Howard Hawks, producer Leland Hayward amongst others; Calista Flockhart as Lee Radziwill, sister of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, Demi Moore Ann Woodward who got her place in society by being the wife of a banking heir,
Demi, that looks like a flamingo, not a swan.
Chloe Sevigny as Andy Warhol and Salvador Dali muse C.Z. Guest, Molly Ringwald as JoAnne Carson, ex-wife of late-night talk show host Johnny Carson and the only Swan who remained friends with Capote after his ouster from their social circle.
TBT Elle magazine getting animated with fashion.
Goofy as Kunty Karl Lagerfeld.
#cristobal balenciaga#the new look#tv talk#ben mendelsohn#alberto san juan#daniel brühl#feud: capote vs the swans#long post#kaiser karl#disney#designers#fashion#fashion designers#cartoon characters#christian dior#coco chanel#yves saint laurent#daniel bruhl#chloe sevigny#demi moore#donatella versace#marc jacobs#dolce & gabbana#juliette binoche#gaspard ulliel#truman capote#capote vs the swans#lana del rey#florence and the machine#john galliano
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Summary: an episode taking place after “Three Way Script”
Warnings: talks of still born children, suggestions of threesomes, consensual infidelity and polyamory
Notes: gosh I’ve been off here so long and yet I’m still clogged with love notes! How’d i get so lucky? This fandom truly is the sweetest, most gushing and loving imaginable and each of you are dear to me and I miss you all. Europe has seemed to swallow me as I’m over for another month I had not anticipated. That’s ok. It’s that’s great in fact but I’m whooped and tired and missing the chance to make believe with y’all. Here’s a little resurgence in that, thanks for your patience and please, please, please keep spamming me all you want in my inbox and dms as I adore it and it helps me feel included even as I’m a little preoccupied with work right now. Xoxo🌹
Cautions: this was written and not edited a bit, wahooo
Anne’s The Name
Ann-Margret was rather used to being ambushed outside her dressing room by the occasional stray autograph seeker, an entitled producer or five anticipating more, or co-stars looking for a drink after shooting to wind down the chemistry of the day.
As of yet, she’d never been met by a wife.
But there she was, Elaine. Never having met her before didn’t afford Ann even a split second of ignorance. She knew who she was. Mrs. Presley was unmistakable, even when playing at being inconspicuous. Leaning against the stage wall in a somehow more provocatively natural stance than even her husband could manage, those long legs freshly tanned against a pink shift skirt and the elegant length of her -she was slimmer than the papers showed her, what with this baby making hiatus- topped off by chocolate curls getting whipped around her like the studio’s wind tunnel was a paid employee. More deadly still was when the opened door attracted her attention and that pretty pearl adorned neck turned to face Ann, that stunner of a face entirely full of curiosity and maybe…mischief?
Ann was too startled to be certain.
Startled by her sudden appearance, startled by the prettiness of her, startled by the lack of venom anywhere to be found on that compelling face, the lips of which were quirking up in a undeniable smirk of teasing enjoyment. She was enjoying Ann’s dumbfounded, half cocked, partway out the door, frozen in place shock. Somehow this was neither the self sacrificing Saint not irate Madonna that Ann anticipated maybe one day being confronted by.
Instead she was being warmly appraised by heavily fringed eyes that glimmered gold in the late day’s sun. Like her merits for lover or playmate were being gauged. Ann wondered if the rumors were true, if Elvis had really taken a lump of clay and fashioned himself a wife in his own image, more identical and fitting than any rib shaped lady could aspire. That sense of danger and intrigue and knowing that had filled her on meeting Elvis came flooding over Ann again, unable to do more than curiously inspect Elaine as she turns towards her.
“Thumper?” Elaine’s voice is as soft and hopeful as it was coming across the telephone receiver weeks ago, “You are Ann, I believe?” she presses when Ann’s manner can’t play catch up with her overwhelming emotions and she remains frozen, halfway out her open door.
“Ela- Mrs. Presley!” she corrects, wincing at the fumble, utterly unsure now that she’s not being met with open hostility.
“I didn’t mean to startle you!” Elaine straightens up from the wall and click clacks over in her heels to stand opposite Ann, just an arms reach removed from each other and Ann thinks of what a pretty scene they’d make if this were scripted, one red and one brown, a flavor for each taste, matching in height and complimentary in build, facing off in a tunnel. “It’s just I managed to give Esposita the slip and E’s gonna be busy with the studio dubbing and I’m no use at all. I thought I’d wrestle up a friend while I was free.” Elaine’s beaming smile dims the longer Ann stalls for time and etiquette, “Or-or if you’re not free, I understand, I at least wanted to say hello. I’m going to be in the city for a little while and didn’t want to be bumping along into you some day without having sought you out.”
Ann wondered if Elvis asked her to come, if Ann and her inventive ways to have sex without having sex wasn’t quite cutting it and he had caved and called the wife. Or if Elaine had heard Ann’s voice over the telephone and gathered from the whole sleepwalking debacle that it was high time to reel him and his affairs in. Or maybe the colonel had seen the papers, Heda Hopper’s column in particular stating that Elvis was taking a shine to his red headed mirror, and sent the wife down for damage control. The only thing is, Ann was sure that the Colonel was thick as thieves with Hedda, much to Elaine’s distress no doubt, and he loved every bit of publicity that Elvis’ wayward eyes could drum up.
Family men didn’t sell, after all. Ann had certainly played her part in his playboy reconstruction with convincing aplomb.
“Sweetie, are you alright?” Elaine’s voice cuts through the fog of Ann’s concerns and suddenly she’s able to find her voice as she starts to tip over,
“No, I-I’m a little dizzy.” Ann admits, just as Elaine’s arms and a wall barely manage to keep her from face planting on the cement.
-I’m a little dizzy and I love your husband and you’re here to distract him and I’m awful aren't I?! but I couldn’t help it, if you love him as much as you say you’ll understand I couldn’t help it, I can’t help loving him-
“Woah, woah, have you eaten?” Elaine asks solicitously as she keeps Ann standing upright against the wall by an iron grip around her waist and under her arm. Anne winces at what she knows is the tacky feel of her sticky underarm pit cradled by Elaine Presley’s perfectly manicured hand. Why did she have to wear a yellow shift dress today of all days? She can feel Elaine’s fingers rubbing at the tassel on the waist, soothing her the same way Elvis does. By touch, gentle in a way that belies the ease with which she holds her upright. The woman is terribly strong for looking so delicate and there’s suddenly a great deal of logic to Elvis’ starry eyed submissiveness regarding his doll faced wife -Elaine is imposing when she gets her hands on you.
Embarrassment floods Ann next, blushing hot and dewy at being caught so weak in front of a woman the world would say she’s wronged. Heat replaces the cold and clammy dizziness of before and she struggles upright against the wall, getting her feet to work for her, stamping the heels a little to get a strong footing. Elaine doesn't budge in her grip on her, still looking concerned and gentle -god, she’s as comfortable with closeness as he is.
“Matter of fact I have neglected eating.” Ann chuckles weakly, puffing at the hair that’s fallen over her forehead and into her eyes, Elaine swipes it away when the directed huff proves ineffective against hairspray laden locks. “It’s been so hot and -and we had a dance scene, kept having to repeat it and -and so many takes. I got a little nauseous from the heat. I forgot to have lunch.”
“You’re probably dehydrated, poor thing.” Elaine tsks, “Makes folks sick and then they don’t want what they actually need. Happens to the kids on the beach all the time, it’s like bargaining with Castro trying to get Jesse out of the ocean to hydrate.” Ann finds herself chuckling at the mental image of this familial anecdote before she realizes she is chuckling at stories about Elvis’ kids. Should she say her condolences for Joe now? Should she even admit she knows as much as she does? “We should get some meat in you. Water, too.” Elaine decides her course for her, “Do you wanna go back in there to rest for a minute?” she points at the dressing room Ann just exited, “Or we can make a dash for my car and find ourselves a bite?”
What either of these options unspokenly state is that Ann will be spending her evening with Elaine, one way or another. If she’s gonna get throttled for being an adulteress she'd rather it be in a drive-in-diner and not some stuffy back-lot dressing room.
“I think I can manage the dash.” she answers agreeably because that’s what Elaine seems to illicit in her -agreeableness.
And as she finds herself tugged by the hand across the mostly empty parking lot, Ann wonders where that ornery streak she’s made her fame on has gone to. Maybe it’s the dehydration that has tuckered her out. Maybe it’s how Elaine acts like she’s her mother in a way that not even her own mother could make so charming.
Elaine is going to get her burgers and water and make her head less fuzzy. It’s been such a while since anyone met her needs so eagerly that Ann finds herself giggling as they race across the wavering hot asphalt, their heels echoing like clopping tattletales and Ann thinks it’s such a lark right as she tips over the convertible caddy’s door into the plush leather passenger seat.
The convertible is pink, because Elvis bought it for his wife and didn’t bother to ask her what her favored color would be, it was just understood that Mrs. Presley would like a pink Cadillac.
Ann is positive that’s how it went, she doesn’t even need to ask Elaine for the story as Elaine cranks the engine up while flipping the visor forward to tip out a pair of cat-eye shades in what strikes Ann as a strangely masculine getsure of proficiency. It makes Ann want to fan herself at the subtext of this woman having hung around Elvis Presley long enough to have picked up his impossibly cool mannerisms by osmosis.
That right there is intimacy. That right there is bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh. That’s a wife.
Ann doesn't know what to do with the rush of appreciation she feels towards what ought to be a nemesis as this cool gal who shields her knowing brown eyes behind tortoise rimmed glasses and flicks on the radios right as a crowd of studio workers begins to swamp the strange duo in their flashy ride.
The song choice by the DJ is downright unfortunate. Surrounded as they are by photographing fans and coworkers, there is nothing for them to do after Elaine’s manicured finger flicks the switch and the mournful rockabilly of Runaround Sue blasts as a ironically perfect soundtrack for the missus taking the side chick out for burgers.
Elaine’s gutsy laugh of recognition at the intro wailing “woaaaah woaaaah woaaaah” tells Ann she appreciates the irony just as much but the woman just waves at the crowd and revs the motor in a fake threat of running over a few studio heartthrobs who are draped over her caddy front trying to get a closer shot.
“If I change it now they’ll read into it more.” Elaine remarks to Ann out the side of her unwavering smile and Ann thinks that’s a talent she wants to learn, damned useful looking like you’re grinning while making conversation.
-‘ask any man that she ever knew, he’ll say keep away from a runaround sue, oh yeah, woaaaaaah”-
Elaine’s french tipped fingers thump out a corresponding rhythm on the pink lacquered steering wheel while surveying the mess of attraction they’ve brought down on themselves in the sweltering parking lot before playfully reaching for the wipers and flicking on the spray with bemused cruelty.
It’s strangely attractive, this distanced bemusement of hers and it fills Ann with notions of thanking Elaine for being a little nasty, something she never felt before for another soul. Suddenly those idiots who degrade themselves and get off in it make a little more sense as she watches the young bucks scramble off of Elaine’s shiny hood with soaked shirts and tented trousers.
“Sorry fellas, y’all were lookin’ overheated.” Elaine quips before the rest of the verbal sparring gets lost in the revv of the engine and they’re peeling out of the studio lot in a move that even Elvis would have found satisfyingly risky.
As it is, Ann lays her burning head back on the white leather seat and enjoys the feeling of the wind whipping her hair off her forehead as Elaine speeds them down Las Vegas roads that don’t tolerate a 75 mile an hour pace most times.
-“well I shoulda known it from the very start, that girl would leave me with a broken heart-“
The strip is truly lovely in the daylight and there’s a charm to it when viewed in the blur of a fast car and the veil of chocolate curls whipping around red painted lips.
“Was- that- did- did Robert Redford just wave you through his red light?” Ann splutters in disbelief at a lightning fast interaction at a four way stop that has Elaine’s head swiveling dangerously and a shark-like grin taking over her face.
“I think he did.” she replies with a guilty giggle and Ann wonders when the last time this woman got to be naughty without it being smothered right out of her the next second by a unfathomably possessive husband.
“A real good looking fella in the bright of day.” she ventures.
“He’s very blonde.” Elaine rejoins and Ann can’t help but laugh at that, at her partiality for dark haired men.
“Yes of course, you like yours so black they’re nearly blue.”
Elaine manages to swivel into their parking space in the drive-in diner with easy grace, the same sorta slide and swivel Ann imagines she’d use to scoot her body into a restaurant booth. “You’re forgetting who applies his hair dye.” she says with faux gravity that has Ann faltering for a moment until she sees her smirking, “And Jack’s not darkening up despite everyone’s predictions. I’m only saying that Redford is -“ Elaine doesn’t finish, she just shrugs and pulls the gear to park.
Noticing a star’s ride at first glance, an eager young waitress in her short skirt and rollerblades flys over and Elaine handles her and the order of five cheeseburgers and as many shakes with the same cooing authority she handled Ann with against the wall.
It sends Ann back to fidgeting, even more so when the girl takes off to plug in the order and Elaine turns the full weight of those perfectly lined eyes back at her and flicks up her sun glasses into her hair to study her closer. It lasts long enough that a blush burns Ann’s face and Elaine herself wonders if Elvis enjoys this girl’s charming unawareness of her own appeal.
Seemingly satisfied with her inspection for now, Elaine turns back in her seat and tilts the rear view mirror downwards to inspect the damage the wind did to her curls and upon catching sight of her face mutters,
“That man…” in a resigned drawl while dabbing away at a smudge of red lipstick out of her lip lines that could’ve only come about by a rather impassioned smooch. Ann figures Redford is not the man in question this time.
It makes Ann feel funny, the thought of having woken up in Elvis’ bed this morning and between then and seeing him again he’s already necked his wife. Necked her thoroughly by the looks of that finger fluffed hair. Anne recalls reading an article in the Whisper about Elaine’s perpetual state of tousled hair and bitten lips, a constant innuendo to what happens to the woman the minute the curtain drops on her picture perfect, wholesome and southern, utterly above reproach little family life. Elaine gets mauled by Elvis Presley, that’s what happens. Elvis who can play the gentleman all he wants during the mating dance but in the act itself promises nothing less than a full, thorough, beastly claiming of his woman.
“Wanna go in?” His wife is asking and it shouldn’t jar Ann as much as it does but she’s so lost in her head that it spooks her all the same and she ends up nodding mindlessly, trying to think about optics and failing to see how this could be anything but tragic for herself. “Alright but use the door handle this time, it’s got one.” Elaine snarks with a pretty little snarl of those red lips and Ann bashfully opens the caddy door properly this time instead of spilling over the side like a tomboy.
She’s still learning how to be what Hollywood wants her to be. Shedding her wholesome girl next door image for a sex kitten verve that hasn’t been entirely unnatural. But it takes a bit of balance as even sex kittens need some glamor, some poise and grace, even as they’re promisingly feral. It’s like tousled curls that hint at obscene amounts of public fuckery without being remotely indecent in itself. She watches Elaine swing open the diner door and wait with charming annoyance at Ann’s preoccupied dawdling. Being billed the “female Elvis” brought about the challenge of having to figure out what Elvis’ appeal even consisted of.
Getting to know the man…intimately…hadn’t made that any clearer. There was a mystique about him that she feared her own shy and frank nature could never manage to do more than a cheap imitation of. Now she was beginning to fear half of his appeal was the promise of his capability that was shown in Elaine Presley’s every move and smirk.
Asking his exquisitely poised and deliciously no-nonsense wife about it didn’t seem a smart move. Recovering from tripping over the curb like an awkward preteen, Ann ducks her head appreciatively for Elaine still holding the damn door open and slips inside the checkered diner.
It was teeth chattering cold in the leather booths after the heat of the ride and both Ann and Elaine found themselves shrinking from settling back into their seats, leaned forward instead with elbows on the table in a cozy pose but no topic of conversation to break the ice as they hovered in such close proximity.
“I thought this would be easier.” Elaine finally let out with a little huff and Ann couldn’t be sure if she was annoyed at her or the situation. “I thought we'd have a lot to talk about.” she explained with a hint of sadness that bewilders Ann. In response to her nonplussed face Elaine went on, “Why, you know…about…lord, our interests! Which as I hear of it consist of many of mine, motorcycles and dancing, my husband of course, and thumb sucking -to name a few.”
Ann inhaled her shake at the mention of that particular sex act, utterly unmoored at the notion he’d told his wife the actual detail. The fact the wife would tell it back.
Elaine was smiling at her coughing fit.
“He’s got such pretty fingers.” she commiserates without pausing in the assault as Ann wheezes
in a vanilla tinged breath, “It’s ingenious really, he said it worked a little too well.”
It had, that’s true, though Ann had never expected Elvis to leave her flat and call his wife up and tell her about how his young costar had cajoled him into rubbing himself to completion as she sucked his thumb in a pantomime of both fallatio and abstinence. Ann had never felt so filthy as she had when she’d watched a married man spew over his knuckles as he hooked his other thumb into her cheek at the same time, leaving her with a knowing smile, happy to keep her revved up and hungry for him for days after until he finally caved and-
“Makes me wanna try it.” Elaine’s voice cuts through the fog and Ann is faced yet again with the fact that this woman seems to wanna chat about her husband's technical infidelity like two girls at a sleepover. She’s still waiting for the seething possessiveness and or vicious cutting down to size.
“Thank you for the flowers, that was -that was much too kind.” Ann gets it out, burdened in a way she hadn’t been before the bizarre need to be liked by Elaine Presley had taken root.
“Thanks for being good to him.” Elaine replies without missing a beat but in so low and earnest a tone it seems to warm the entire diner and the leather feels cozy.
“I’m so sorry about Joe.” Ann blurts with hoarse earnestness because the grief of it is choking her as she watches this woman dazzle and smile her way through a cataclysmic tragedy, the size of which has Elvis Presley himself trying to sleep walk to his death to end the pain of it.
An emotion, something very cold initially and then frighteningly intense, almost a little ugly in its horrifying struggle flits across, then threatens to crumple, Elaine’s poised features and Ann suddenly wishes her tongue had been cut out, she oughta be locked up and never let out in polite society again. She watches helplessly as Elaine’s mouth firms into a hard line even as her eyes grow wide and wild and begin glittering madly with what Ann realizes, almost too late, are unshed tears -and then those perfectly manicured hands fly up to hide a deluge of grief that melts that serene facade.
“I-I’m so sorry, I just -I just had to say it.” Ann hears herself whimpering out condolences and excuses and her hands fumble over the linoleum table top in a helpless gesture as Elaine’s hands are too busy shielding her famous face from the entire diner’s occupants as her shoulders shake in a terrible rhythm that is peculiar to stifled sobbing. “I’m just so horribly sorry for you, for both of you, all of you. And everybody goes on like it didn’t happen but I- I can’t imagine how awful that is, the ignoring of it. I-I didn’t think before I said anything I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Elaine.”
Ann watches as the sobs seem to slow, and then they still, and eventually, this young woman leans forward again and rests her elbows on the table, face still hidden by her hands, one of which boasts that stupendously gaudy wedding band. Realizing there’s one thing she can mend, Ann reaches into her purse and digs out a hanky before pressing it against Elaine’s knuckles in a silent plea for her to use it.
It’s like witchcraft the way her face is entirely composed once those hands drop and the damp and smudged hanky is balled into her dainty fist. She’s looking straight past Ann at her surroundings, clocking her audience and even twisting a little in her seat to make certain no one’s overly enthralled by her lapse in perfection, it’s exhausting watching this haunted look of hunted excellence by, Ann can’t even imagine what it’s like living it. Suddenly Ann’s hands are being gripped and the woman’s fingers are burning hot and clammy and her eyes are boring into her own, seemingly satisfied that they are still anonymous enough for a little show of emotion and Elaine is murmuring in a husky whisper,
“Thank you, Thumper -you see, nobody talks about her. I-I -there’s no one I can talk to…about her.”
The fact that her own husband can’t even manage it but had to find a stranger to spill to instead strikes Ann with a fathomless guilt for taking that from Elaine, but it’s not as if she had elicited it! He came to Ann himself and what he spoke of she couldn't control. Still, actually getting to see the cracks in his wife’s soul from the loneliness of her grief is a different thing entirely and she is moved to make amends.
“You can always talk to me -if it helps.” she whispers and Elaine gives her a wincing smile.
“I don’t think anything will help.” Elaine replies with a moodiness that is both entirely understandable, if a little off putting in just how severe it is. And, forever the barometer of moods, as if sensing Ann’s unease with her glumness, Elaine perks up in a nauseatingly convincing display of cheer. “It’s just -I think that after Mrs. Kennedy lost her baby and all that sadness, the people just don’t have it in them to find much -interest, in the sad parts. They need happiness and, and courage from us.”
Elaine’s biting her lip in a vain attempt to make it stop wobbling and Ann wishes she could smack the American public for insisting these women, one the wife of the President and the other of the King, hold up a perfect little Camelot for them to read about every Sunday. It’s real lives, real lives grieving and straining and trying their best, real infants dying and golden couples struggling to regain intimacy beyond the midnight sobbing cuddle sessions that have taken the place of making love.
No money in the world is worth such a forced display of perfection in the face of such aloneness.
“You should worry about what you need right now.” Ann tells her what she told her husband the other night.
“Ah.” Elaine clicks her tongue doubtfully, “That’s all real well but I dunno what I need. But you -are you what Elvis needs? Hmm?”
Suddenly Ann wants to bolt again, throat tight and heart skipping a beat, “I-I don’t know.”
“How old are ya?” she asks like that is a natural progression in the conversation, as if Elaine is going to be the judge of wether it is beneficial for her husband to 69 his co-star in order to forget about his dead child.
“I’m twenty two.” It feels like a confession under that earnest eyed review.
“Lord.” Elaine bites off the head of a fry and Ann wishes she was a lil soaked potato crisp herself, that bemused meanness simmering to Elaine’s smooth surface again and turning Ann into a hot mess under her nylons. “And do you wanna get married, Miss Margret? You want kids and all that? Or is it the stage life for you?”
“No, I-I’d like kids, and I’d like to marry.” she insists, “Just not now -and not Elvis, of course not Elvis!”
“Well that’s good.” Elaine drawls sardonically, “Cause he’s taken and happy to be so.”
“Yes! Yes he loves you so much.” it’s a sort of masochism for Ann to admit that yet somehow she finds she doesn’t mind it.
“I know.” is all Elaine replies with, utterly unimpressed.
“So,” Ann finds this ordeal unbearable enough she might as well ask what’s been burdening her, “why did you wanna meet with me? Is- is he through with me?” The full scale of her own unease finally surfaces and she realizes she’s got cause to suspect Elaine of more than just being jealous. “Did he send you to do it? To break it off me with me?” she can’t help the way her voice raises in outrage, it may be misplaced but her love is not false and she doesn’t deserve this, he oughta man up and do his own dirty work.
Elaine doesn’t reply for a few beats that have Ann wringing her hands around her sweaty milk shake in suspense, curious as to why the woman doesn't take the easy route and admit it, crow over her -once again the straying husband has returned to her.
“This film has only got a couple of weeks left.” Elaine says instead in so measured a tone it slices Ann to the heart quicker than any boast, “But no, no he hasn’t sent me to do anything. I’m no one’s errand boy.”
“Of course not.” Ann mumbles in apology.
“But he has-“ Elaine’s mouth twists in distress over wording and every delay hurts Ann just a little more from suspense, “-Elvis has recommenced his interest in me.” that’s a positively hilarious way to say he banged his wife and not the side piece this afternoon and Ann hates her for her delicacy, and all the pain and complications it hides, “And the thing of it is, I’ve already noticed a waning of his preoccupation with you and -I’m just an observer. It’s what I do, I watch him and then I act on what he’s gonna do or what he’s gonna want. And, Ann, can I call ya Ann? Ann, I -I think he’s gonna try to move on from ya, when the movie wraps, like he’s moved on from the others.”
Ann bites at her straw and prays her jimmying leg beneath the table isn’t painfully obvious.
“I don’t want that.” Elaine states suddenly and Ann lets go of the poor, abused straw.
“What?”
“You’re not just some other gal, Thumper.” she rolls her eyes -fondly, unless Ann is greatly mistaken. “But I think he’d treat ya like one for me. I do think it’s what he intends to do. It’s -he said as much this afternoon…during.”
Ann’s cheeks flame hot from mortification and anger, but from something else too. An electric shock zapping through her at the unintended imagining of Elvis talking about her while buried inside of Elaine. To be thought of, spoken of, made a part of that dynamic…Ann is going to hell for the way it makes her clench and breath in like a panting racehorse.
“Well that’s all -settled for you, isn’t it.” she can’t help but try her hand at being a little mean herself. It comes out petulant and she winces at the pettiness of it.
“Yes.” Elaine doesn't bother with false remorse over her surety in her husband’s return, “Which means all that’s left is to help sort you.”
“Sort me?“ Ann isn’t above mud wrestling a fellow gal on the diner floor.
“Thumper, darling,” Elaine sighs gently while her eyes stray behind Ann’s head at some gathering fans behind them, “this industry crafts an image for its stars like suits for models. What they’ve got for ya right now sure is flattering, but make no mistake, they’ll be happy to discard you and your new suit whenever it no longer makes folks gossip. I’d like us to last a lot longer than all that.” her eyes focus back on Ann’s and a sad smile lights up her face, “I think we’ve got it in us to.”
“Who’s us?”
Elaine seems to take time to consider that before answering, “The trio of us.”
Ann remains wary, it’s altogether too easy to want her to mean what she can’t possibly have intended. “Us?”
“Yeah, us.” Elaine grins, “Or at least, I think that Thumper and Naughty and Tink could manage something. Even if the adults can’t.”
It’s wicked that smile of hers and awfully persuasive, like she’s figured something out. And maybe she has, that throat closing fear that Ann was a replacement suddenly allayed by the jimmying legged beauty who acts so brave while having the ill luck of having a soulmate in a married man.
Ann’s no replacement for Elaine.
She’s Elvis’ mirror and his double and a fondness blooms in Elaine’s heart for her at that realization, along with a healthy dose of exasperation that always seems to linger when in Elvis’ presence.
“So, will you let me sort you?” she presses the young woman and doesn’t miss the way she swallows hard in the same way Elvis does when Elaine starts bossing.
Interesting.
“Arrange a little something for us that’ll outlast those hooligans at MGM? You gotta think about what you want, Ann, they’ll get ya on the treadmill and never turn the damn thing down when you burn out unless ya make them. I’d have thought you’d have learnt that these past few weeks.”
Ann knows she’s referring to Elvis and his insomnia, his hollow eyed spouting of the newest script and his mechanical jiving while his soul atrophies from grief suppressed. Ann knows there’s a damned dead end at the end of loving him too thoroughly. Too exclusively. But God! -he made her feel important. That’s all a little silly now that she’s looking at his wife with those love kiss abrasions adorning her throat and a diamond weighing down her finger.
Ann wants Elvis. Ann also wants whatever it is Elaine’s got and if she ever wants to really get that, she's gonna have to let Elaine’s husband go and find herself one of her own. “Alright.” she whispers, smudging the linoleum table top with her wrist, “I mean -I would like to remain friends. Very much.”
“We can do better than just that. But it’s a start.” Elaine clicks her tongue in a strangely cocksure way that has Ann melting as she watches as if in slow motion as Elaine’s hand comes up to her face, a manicured finger swiping at the corner of Ann’s lip before bringing the vanilla frosted finger to her own mouth and sucking nonchalantly.
Already sorting her out and Ann complies with rapt attention and a shudder. “I had the good sense to leave Jack behind for this little visit.” she admits cheerily, as if making breezy conversation and Ann realizes the crowd behind her shoulder have moved in closer, “Which means we could have a dinner party, us three, and there’d be no chaperone to set a curfew.”
Mrs. Presley wiggles her eyebrows in a way that suggests they won’t be watching movies late into the night and Ann’s heart threatens to gallop away from her at the thought of it.
Someone from the crowd asks for an autograph.
Preoccupied, Ann accidentally writes “thumper” on the bottom of a fresh Polaroid depicting her and Elaine peeling out of the studio lot.
🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸
I hope y’all enjoyed, after such a long pause I’d be astounded if any of y’all were still invested in this but I swear that while I may not be as prolific in the next few months, my gargantuan plot for this universe and others are still alive in my brain. Love y’all 😘 if you wanna be added to the taglist please comment below
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@dkayfixates
#elvis fanfiction#elvis presley#sarge and lil mama#elvis fanfic#elvis imagine#elvis x reader#elvis 2022#70s elvis#elvis smut#elvis angst#Elvis x Elaine#Anne’s the Name#mine#50s elvis#elvis pictures#elvisaaronpresley#elvis one shot#elvis fandom#Elvis#elvis the king
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Whooooo! I found ya! Down to business:
Are there any fic recommendations for baggin/shield or pitch/frost that you like(d)?
I am absolutely feral
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand…..
What are 3 of your most favorite fics that you’ve ever read?
Ya found me! Let me say that the notifications of someone going through old fics and commenting are ambrosia. You are a treasure and a saint of a person!
And oh man I had to dive into my old bookmarks for these! I'm good at remembering snippets or vibes of fics but not the fics themselves. I will warn that a lot of my fave pitch/jack stuff tended to be pretty dark. It's not like, a thing I regret or say is wrong, and I still enjoy/love a lot of it! I was in a dark place mentally and that reflected in the stuff I was reading and creating. Who actually has a good time in their early to mid 20s?
Mostly warning because most of my stuff since then skirts the edges or flirts with the darkness but doesn't feel that need to go deep diving.
Second warning is there may be less here than you'd think! The more I write for a ship the less I read, because my brain gets very dumb and the self doubt gets Real Bad. This is all non-exhaustive of course! I wouldn't even say this is my Best of The Best it's just what's coming to mind at the moment. There's way more in the AO3 bookmarks
Pitch/Jack fics
In the Dark - series by @charmed7293 romancing the monster under the bed is maybe not always the best idea
The Syntax of Programming Languages, and, Why Some Code Talks in Accents - by Midievil. I'm biased here bc this was a gift fic inspired by my The Device Has Been Modified, but it done showed me up bc it was written by someone who knows more about actual coding than me
Shadows and Light - this series by @not-poignant is The Classic of the ship. Since you liked Things That Were you'd most definitely like this one. And unlike me, Pia actually finishes things!
I swear to God there were a lot of fics by @insufferablearchanist that I loved but they nuked their old AO3 and I can't ever remember shit.
Thorin/Bilbo fics
Prayers to Broken Stone - @avelera the beauty and the beast flavored au you didn't know you wanted
Comfort in the Sound - by northerntrash. Ok. Yes. It's Bilbo/Thorin/Bofur but like. Trust me on this. Road trip throuple shenanigans
Patchwork Robe - @hallsofstone2941 I am not immune to stupidly adorable modern college au one-shots
Possession - aljira. You liked Sanzigil, you'll like this :)
Marriage in the Manner of Dwarves - series by diemarysues
Other Fandom Faves (that come to mind. I've been reading fanfic since like 2002 ok there's a lot that has made impressions over the years that I just lost track of dkdjdk)
Taking Everyone For A Ride - by Nonymos. Venom/Eddy+Anne/Dan. typical Eldritch shenanigans plus polyamory. Unhinged and weird, just how I like em
The Only Way Out Is Down - @avelera Newt/Hermann. The second PR movie was so bad I wanna erase it from my memory but my god did it spawn some AMAZING fics, including this one that rewired my brain
After Zero - by what_alchemy Newt/Hermann. A bunch of delightful smut
The Wine Dark Sea - @moorishflower Dream/Hob. Siren! Dream au. Jesus Christ. Holy fuck. Goddamn. Gorgeous, monstrous, surreal, Unhinged4Unhinged behavior. Listen. I work with octopuses. I know what their arms feel like and that has ruined almost all tentacle shenanigans for me ok?? This fic got past that hangup.
If I Please You - @moorishflower Dream/Hob. It feels like a modern retelling of an old medieval fairy romance goddamn
And finally. This series. The series.
So. I very recently refound this series and I'm almost hesitant to post it. Because as I was reading it again I kept having to put it down and sit in horror at the realization that I read this fic when I was in college and it actually rewired my brain. I realized everything I have written was trying to recapture what this fic did to my synapses. I was chasing after vibes that I did not realize originated in this fic for me. Me sharing this risks everyone who reads it and has read my stuff also going "ooohhhh you're just doing this again huh?"
It is the very specific combination of "Character A: openly unhinged, obsessive, violently romantic and unnerving/Character B: seems so chill and just happily rolls with CharacterA being insane, because they are also secretly insane." It's the combo of a codependent bonkers relationship with humorous banality of their day-to-day.
It's also a Johnlock fic.
Anyway, The Paradox Series rewired my brain so deeply that I didn't even realize it rewired my brain until over a decade later. I swear I have been unaware of how much my writing has been leaning on what this did to my brain.
#fic recs#i cannot stress enough how non exhaustive this is dkfjdkdj#refound the paradox series like a month ago and kept having a fuckin crisis about it to my friends#like UH OH IVE JUST BEEN SNATCHING THIS FICS ENTIRE VIBE THE WHOLE TIME
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I got a question for Garrett, what would happen if MC decided pamper him
Like complimenting him daily
Telling him to rest and spend time
Reminding him he's enough and that perfection isn't always the answer and that MC fell in love because who he truly is and not the one he shows outside of Saint Anne
Instead of going out to dinner, making home cooked meals and etc.
And also help him get the proper help he really needs. That poor baby needs a hug ;-;
Oh my, this is literally the sweetest ask ever! Just the thought of you taking the time to try and heal Garret warms my heart! So much so I'll can't help but share a few little spoilers about his past. I'll make sure to mark them so you don't accidentally spoil yourself if you don't want to!
Honestly, I think Garret's initial reaction would be to happily accept the compliments, home cooked meals, and quality time chalking it up as what a "healthy" relationship should look like. That being said, he would absolutely spoil you and reciprocate all of those sweet and loving gestures.
When it comes to the positive affirmations and being told that he doesn't need to be perfect... well it'll take some time for him to fully believe your words.
At first he'd think your just being kind and saying what expected of wonderful life partner. However, once it sunk in that you were being genuine and you actually meant it... He'd have a really difficult time accepting it.
SPOILER STARTS BELOW
Garret was raised to be his parent's golden only child. That being said, nothing he did was ever enough for his parents. Straight A's? Why not straight A+'s? You won first place in a race? Why aren't you competing in the nationals? What's that? You won a national competition? Why didn't you beat the previous record? Oh you did? Well you need to focus on other extracurriculars if you want to get into the same Ivy league school your father went to.
Nothing he did was ever enough for them, however he was far better than his classmates when it came to nearly everything. Grades, athletics, extracurriculars, looks, body, social acumen, etc. All of the girls in his private school wanted to be with him and all of the guys wanted to be him.
However he never saw any of them to be worthy of his time, not until you came along that is...
END SPOILER
The thought of someone like you, the object of ALL of his affections, believing that he's worthy? That he doesn't have to run several miles a day and practically starve himself to maintain his model-esque figure? That he doesn't have to spoil you in riches beyond your wildest dreams?
It'll be a lot for him to understand and accept. However, once he finally believes your sincerity, the poor guy cling onto you and will break down into heart-wrenching sobs.
Finally, finally someone accepts him. Not for the perfect mask he's been trained to wear from a young age, but actually loves and accepts him for who he is on the inside.
And it's not just anyone. It's you. The one he adores, the one he's been completely and hopelessly devoted to since he first saw you, the only one that truly matters.
He would be a completely wreck, but with your patience and kind words he might actually have a shot at healing himself and actual redemption.
Of course, that'll all depend on your actions in and outside of game. ; )
#original character#yandere#yandere visual novel#yanderes#male yandere#yandere vn#crimson hydrangea#visual novel#crimson hydrangea vn#ask#garre#garret belmont
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imagine anne boonchuy. imagine anne being revered by everyone around her. not in an angel, “holier than thou” god anne way. more in a.. you’re so much better than we could ever be. so much more patient, and kind, and forgiving. marcy & sasha are forever flawed, forever have the marks of their sins etched onto their skin by blades. blades held by those they loved so much, hands that cared and understood and once comforted them with boisterous laughs and cheeky grins and tender touches brushing away baby hairs made sticky by wet tears. the amphibians are flawed in their own ways. none come close to the benevolent anne. always understanding. always throwing herself into the fray for those she loves.
and even though she’s still anne.. still messy and has a horribly funny laugh and sticks straws up her nose because she still has the humor of a prepubescent boy. still has little bits of dirt and dust under her nails where she paints them bright colors, pinks and blues and purples. still has her hair tangle endlessly, the kinks and knots needing to be worked out by both sasha and marcy’s fingers, each with their own individual calluses and nicks and marks, burns and patches and lines carved onto them. like a stamp, one that speaks of experiences inconceivable, spoken only under the soft cover of white moonlight. sasha’s touches are feather light, worried that anything rough will teeter off the edge of what is okay and what is not. fear of ripping apart the still fresh boundaries loosen her fingers and soften her touch. she must be soft. she doesn’t know how to. marcy’s touches are less light.. more sure, knowing. she’s done this forever, and even though they’re still relearning the way they are around each other, this is something they’ve always done. something they’ve always had. each curl smoothed out is a testament to their love, and a promise that the previously worn strings of their friendship has been woven into something new.
it still feels sacred. after what they’ve all went through, a part of marcy and sasha will always see their friendship— and anne, the fact that she’s still with them, still moving where they go despite all the pain and grief they caused her-- as sacred. anne may be the saint, but she’s also human, and humans are born with sin on their backs. in moments of deep, raw, all consuming guilt and hatred, marcy and sasha convince themselves that maybe, just maybe, they are the biggest sin on anne’s back.
anne thinks they’re wrong. no, she knows they’re wrong. she doesn’t know how to tell them that she is not a diety worshipped in hushed temples, chants of forgiveness spilling out of blood red lips, creating tears that burn down cheeks, leaving behind rivers of ash and decay. offerings of baby pink lotus flowers and vivid orange marigolds left on the foot of a cracked and weeping stone statue.
anne and sasha wear matching pink hair ribbons from time to time. sasha threads hers through a low pony, clean and pristine as ever. anne closes hers around a higher ponytail, ties it carefully through her hair to make sure it doesn’t get caught between the curls. it has pink spots on parts of it, residue from the time marcy accidentally dropped a bottle of berry blitz and it exploded everywhere.
one time, while talking in anne’s room, marcy’s absentmindedly thumbing through the different drawers of anne’s dresser. she finds a few old bottles of nail polish, and three specific colors stick out to her— green, blue, and pink. they’re not the most accurate shades— the blue’s more of a cerulean, and the green’s more of a sage green than a lime green— but marcy brings it out and shows it to them anyways. sasha’s the one to open the first bottle, and they all inhale the familiar scent of chemicals and girlhood. marcy quips that taking a deep whiff of the stuff isn’t very good for their respiratory system, and anne giggles and places marcy’s hand on her thigh. they each take a hand, and get to work. by the time they all finish, their hands are colorful and fun and they haven’t felt this pretty in a while. anne spins around her room in a fit of delight, and marcy blows on her nails to help them dry faster. anne cracks a joke they’ve heard her make a thousand times before, and sasha laughs and laughs until tears are streaming down her face. it wasn’t very funny, but anne and marcy laugh with her, and soon they’re all in a heap on the floor, clutching their stomach and getting bits of nail polish on their shirts. they stay like that for a while, admiring their nails. each girl painted their middle finger with their respective color, and painted the other nails alternating between the colors of the other two. sunlight streams through anne’s window, catching the light on their hands and sending streams of pinks and blues and greens dancing across their fingers.
anne wearing a baby blue silk dress with sheer organza sleeves and light blue eye makeup with tiny flowers drawn onto her lids to prom— anne watching sasha get ready by doing her makeup and hair perfectly (eyeliner with a spare dagger because she still can’t break the habit of keeping daggers on her)— sasha doing anne’s makeup and anne lightly tracing the marks on her thighs as she tries not to let the blush creeping up on her cheeks show— sasha and marcy tenderly rubbing and kissing away anne’s tears whenever she wakes at night, dreaming of charred, burning flesh and red stained cheeks and the vast emptiness of space as you’re left behind and your body crumbling apart like a rock being chipped away at slowly by the natural elements— anne borrowing sasha’s pink bubblegum lipgloss and wearing it whenever she wants to channel sasha’s natural charm and strength— anne and marcy sharing the same hoodies because they both have the same comfort level and anne likes the marcy smell left behind by the hoodies she wears— fabric softener and a light dusting of earth from all the times she eats shit whenever she falls, and pencils and pens kept inside the pockets of her hoodies with little notes that say “thinking of you :)”— anne and sasha and marcy anne and sasha and marcy sashannarcy sashannarcy sashannarcy
#amphibia#sashannarcy#I love writing abt these girls at like 1 AM#they’re so gay your honor#keep in mind this is *my* interpretation of these three 🫡#sorta messy writing
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Not every day you find a random door in the park your childhood friends went missing at. No, it was the day you where sent off to summer school. Forced to leave the only place you held memories with your small friends.
Anne was sent off to 'Saint James Summer School' do to lack of grades. Before the bus came to take her to the summer camp hell hole she put her only person memories of her two friends in the trash. Their missing person posters. Hoping, that they would stay behind. And maybe, just maybe, she could move on. Turns out she couldn't leave them behind and once she turned around to retrieve them the flyers were gone. In a unusually big snails mouth. Anne chased the snail in a desperate attempt to save her printed friends. The snail lead her to a park. The same one the two where last seen at. A random closed door sat in the middle of the park. The snail rushed to the door where it sung open. Anne stepped to the other side, as soon as her foot crossed the doors entry her heart started to beat at a unusual and concerning pace.
#amphibia#anne boonchuy#toh#the owl house#not so frog house au#crossover#if enough of yall r interested ill go into more details#also u can ask questions cuz holy shit ive been ALL over this au#i tried my best with the door leave me alone#bessie#HOW DID I FORGET HER?
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Specters of What's to Come: The Goodwin Witchcraft Case
Witchcraft accusations were not incredibly rare in 17th century New England, but prosecution was difficult.
By law, two credible witnesses had to testify seeing witchcraft take place for an accusation to be deemed credible. This was difficult to provide, unless an accused witch confessed to the crime. Testimony of others could include witnessing of verbal curses and the presence of "poppets," what we now call voodoo dolls. Spectral evidence, the testimony that an afflicted person saw the invisible shape of a witch, was not supposed to be considered credible. Even in a society that believed wholeheartedly in witches, Puritans knew that people could lie, and many believed that Satan had the ability to take on the form of an innocent person to bring about their downfall. In some instances, accusers and even confessed witches were charged with perjury rather than witchcraft if the evidence was lacking.
There were times, however, when accused witches did meet the death penalty. The last and most newsworthy incident prior to Salem took place in Boston in 1688.
The prosperous Goodwin family had employed an Irish indentured servant named Mary Glover as a washerwoman. Mary, being Catholic and poor, was greatly distrusted, and the Goodwin's 13 year old daughter Martha accused her of stealing clothing. Distraught, Mary told her elderly mother, Ann, of this accusation, and the older woman flew into a rage. After a screaming match in which Ann "bestow'd very bad language" at Martha, the teenager, along with three of her younger siblings, began to suffer from fits deemed to be supernatural in nature.
These fits, described in the book Memorable Providences by Cotton Mather, were identical to what would occur in Salem: the children were struck deaf, blind, and mute, contorted themselves into painful positions, and cried out pitifully or made animal sounds. The extent of the fits were deemed to be beyond what would be expected of epilepsy or other known medical conditions, and too severe to be faked. At times, Mather stated, the children's jaws would dislocate, their tongues drawn out to "prodigious length," and their joints locked with their bodies in an arch.
When Glover was brought in on witchcraft charges, it was unclear whether or not she was competent to stand trial. Glover seemed to understand some English but could not speak it; when it became known that her incomprehensible speech was not Satanic language, but Irish, multiple examiners deemed her technically sane, though she still seemed confused by the proceedings. Robert Calef, who wrote the first exposé on the witch trials, More Wonders of the Invisible World, stated that "Her behavior at her trial was like that of one distracted. They did her cruel." She testified entirely through interpreters.
During the proceedings, the interpreters struggled to contextualize Glover's testimony, seemingly due to being unfamiliar with Catholic worship. She was questioned about small figures found in her home and admitted to praying to them as "spirits," which the interpreters admitted could also have meant saints. The children reacted negatively when Glover handled her homemade statues, signs of spectral interference. She was also instructed to recite the Lord's Prayer; this was a standard test for witchcraft, as Puritans believed that Satan's power prevented witches from praying. Glover was able to recite in Irish and Latin, but not English, and this was taken as further evidence of guilt.
Ann Glover was hanged on November 16th, 1688. Mather related that, visiting her in jail, she had claimed that her death would not relieve the children's suffering, which did come to pass; Martha's bewitchment continued for some time. Although Glover supposedly claimed that someone else was bewitching the children, no other witches were prosecuted, and over time the hysteria faded.
Mather's first-hand account of the incident was published less than a year later, in 1689. It is probable that some residents of Salem owned the book, at at least had heard of the crisis.
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I just read Legoland and I decided to compile some helpful tidbits about Penny's character, for all your fanfic writer needs!
If you want to write RTC fanfic using her canon personality and backstory, this is the place for you. I apologize if someone has done something similar!
•Let's start with her basic introduction in the play;
"PENNY is a young woman wearing French braids and a private school uniform; she has a bright smile."
"PENNY: Hello. My name is Penny Lamb, and I am an aspiring animal conservationist."
"PENNY speaks at an incredible speed, being an immensely nervous and self-conscious teenager. She literally trips over her words -- a volcano of passion and eloquence."
Now I'll give you some backstory and character info without getting into Legoland's plot. This is so people who don't have an interest in the story itself can still grasp the basics of Penny's character.
Both Penny and her little brother (Ezra) were homeschooled. They grew up on the Elysium Community Farm, just outside of Uranium City.
When Penny turned 13, she was already getting "itchy" to see the outside world (kids were not allowed to leave Elysium until they turned 16). She thought she knew what to expect after reading 'Anne of Green Gables'.
The Lambs snuck out to a Walmart and found out it was very different from what they thought it would be. They tried to strike up conversations with people but everyone seemed weirded out by them (they snuck out several times to try and "strike up friendly chats")
Eventually the manager called the police who drove them home. That's when "all that trouble happened"
Penny's parents got 15 years in prison for cultivation and trafficking of narcotics. Her and Erza were sent to Saint Cassian Catholic School (which as I'm sure you all know is the same school that the choir members attend, obviously, since Uranium City isn't big enough to have more than one school). It is stated to be a boarding school in this so that's some extra lore for us I guess.
"PENNY: The instant I see the boys staring at me like gaping fish with their heads cut off… and the girls looking at me with those Queen of England smiles… Oh, little Penny wasn’t in Kansas anymore… Uh-uh… I was sent to the charred black bowels of everlasting Hell!"
Despite her homeschooling education Penny is actually very smart, but the values taught to her don't really go over well with a catholic school system. She also likes to use 'big words'.
Penny gets sent to the school psychiatrist, and allegedly diagnosed as Bipolar and manic depressive (to me it seemed implied that the psychiatrist was a crook, but maybe I'm reading too much into it. Do with this information what you will).
She does go through a depressive episode though, or what sure looks like one;
"PENNY: Like, sleeping in my room all day… tearing my hair and throwing up, kind of suicidal and depressed and everything… So, one day a bunch of girls were setting fire to my school bag -- second time that week -- and I wasn’t even crying anymore… because, you get to a point… when you’re waaaay beyond crying."
Penny can play the ukulele and she also composes songs (or, she writes at least one during the play, but y'know)
She seems to be very against cussing, just as much as Ocean is, and reprimands Ezra whenever he cusses throughout the play.
Penny is a pescetarian.
She goes on this insane cross-country trip with her brother to the US, and whenever they get to a new state she always recites how many endangered species they have there. I just thought this was cute, and very Jane-like.
So yeah, without getting too much into it, Penny throws hot coffee on this guy and uhhh, bites him? Apparently? The assault charges get dropped and she gets extradited back to Canada, but the story was leaked to the media and she was famous for a little bit.
The way Penny and Ezra got money to travel to the US in the first place was by selling his ADHD prescription meds, so she goes to trial for drug dealing, and gets probation (they don't specify how long she's on probation for in the play).
At the very end of the script, Penny states she'd like to say something about true love. I wanted to include part of what she said because it's quite lovely (and oh y'all can make so much fanfic with this);
"In a world where we are ultimately alone, and die in our own arms, love is the closest you come to another person… because it is the closest you come to being another person. So be very careful what you love."
*this quote is apparently also in some versions of rtc, I assume as an easter egg of sorts.
Sorry this is so long. I love Penny Lamb a lot and I also think she's insane <3
#penny lamb#jane doe rtc#jane doe ride the cyclone#penny lamb rtc#penny lamb ride the cyclone#ride the cyclone#rtc#rtc musical#legoland#legoland play#legoland penny lamb#penny lamb legoland#long post#lesbophobia tw#cw lesbophobia
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