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aoitrinity · 3 years

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Why Do I Have to Feel Like a Fucking Conspiracy Theorist -- OR -- How I Find a Semblance of Peace on Sunday Night

I’m also going to start this out with a GIANT DISCLAIMER.

I am about to theorize about what may have happened to the SPN finale. I have absolutely no insider knowledge. I am merely speculating here based on the panels and a bunch of Twitter and Tumblr posts that I have been reading over the last few days. If you are not in a good place to read such things, TURN BACK PLEASE. Go take care of yourself and your mental health. You and your feelings are valid and deserve to be handled gently right now.

Additionally, if you are here to give me shit for being unhappy with the ending, please walk away as well. I am here to reach out and share my feelings with people who might be struggling to make sense of something that upset some of us in very deep-seated ways. I am not here to bother you or critique you or tell you that you’re lesser because you liked the ending. If you felt it was good, then go enjoy it.

Long-ass post beneath the cut, everyone.

Alrighty folks...I debated whether or not to do this because I have been spiraling down the hell that is the SPN finale since Thursday. The travesty of what happened to our show--to this beloved show that seemed to have been so perfectly and precisely written for at least four years that it had basically already paved its own tarmac on which to land its plane and we all thought we knew exactly what we were going to get. And then we didn’t. We had a nigh Cas-less and entirely Eileen-less ending. We had no goodbye between Cas and Jack. We had Dean dying young after finally finding his freedom, only to ascend to heaven with no one but Bobby. We had the weird, weird, weird incest-y death scene. We had the bridge crane shot thing because...sure. You do you, Robert Singer.

It was so terrible, so truly awful, and I couldn’t seem to square any of it with anything we had known going in. I tossed and turned and cried and didn’t eat or sleep all weekend. I spent hours just reloading tumblr and twitter, going to the Misha panel, reading and reading and listening and trying to figure out what the fucking hell is going on because I needed to know exactly where to direct my anger. And after a fuckton of talking with @winchester-reload, I think we have at least a very plausible theory about what happened here--I’m laying it out below as much for my own peace of mind as anything else, because otherwise all of these thoughts are going to continue to spin around in my head for weeks and I won’t be able to do jack shit.

Now to start off, unfortunately I do think Dean was slated to die from the beginning of this season. I don’t know WHY they thought that was the best way to go, and I wish they had listened to Jensen on this one. Part of me wonders if it was an order from on high based on the discussion between Becky and Chuck earlier this season--the writers knew it wasn’t a great choice, but they were trying to signal to us that we should feel free to write our own endings to the story because they’d be better (I can wax poetic on the signs of why many of the writers probably wanted Dean to live, but that’s another post). I’m not defending that choice by any means, just laying it out there that I think they didn’t necessarily all want to kill Dean like they did.

However, what I THINK I can explain now is what happened with Misha and why we got so jerked around with Cas’s story. Consider what we know (I can’t immediately source all of it, but I did my best):

At the end of episode 15x19, Lucifer has been returned to the Empty after being killed AGAIN. He talks with Cas. Maybe harasses him a bit about Dean, idk. But then...Jack shows up. New God Jack. And he picks up Cas and pulls him out of the Empty, leaving Lucifer behind, because seriously. Fuck that guy (also leaving behind his abusive father is character growth for Jack, so yay for that).

-Misha was contracted to film 15 episodes this season. He was only in 14.

-Misha told Michael Sheen he had to go back to film 1.5 episodes after the shutdown in March. (Starts at 6:13)

-Misha was in Vancouver during filming of the finale.

-Mark P said at Darklight Con that the last scene he filmed was with Alex and Misha (and Mark P was only in episode 19).

-Misha implied that he was present for various filming moments, including Dean’s death (start at 35:15), and said that it felt like a “mini-reunion.”

-Various sources have mentioned that Jimmy Novak was supposed to be in the finale.

-After episode 18, Stands tweeted a fan who was angered and hurt by Cas's death that they could talk about the “bury the gays” issue after the finale aired.

-In episode 19 we know there were takes of the parking lot scene where the only thing fans observing could hear was Dean yelling “CAS” at Chuck (fuck I can’t find this one right now, but it’s definitely out there)

-Also in episode 19, we had a very strange, awkward montage at the end of the episode.

-In episode 20, we know there were a FUCKTON of missing scenes

-We also had no opening montage, but three other separate montages.

-Carry on My Wayward Son was played TWICE, back-to-back at the end of the episode.

-Episode 20 was shorter than normal and had surprisingly little dialogue. The pacing was VERY strange.

-The cast and crew has been almost completely silent about the finale since it came out. When they have spoken, it has been with an awkward excuse of “Uh...COVID?”

-Samantha Ferris has specifically noted that, despite the Harvelle’s being back in play and a big heaven reunion having been planned pre-COVID, neither she nor Chad Lindberg received any such invitation to return.

-Cas and Dean POP Funko figures were pictured together in a replica of Harvelle’s in 15x04.

NOW with all of this in mind (and I’m probably missing some stuff too because there is so much--feel free to add on to that list), please bear with me because here is what I think we were SUPPOSED to get POST-COVID (after it was determined that the reunion couldn’t happen because of the virus):

In episode 20, we start with our NORMAL OPENING MONTAGE, like always. It traces everything that happened during the season. We are reminded of Cas. The confession. Rowena. Eileen. Jack. Billie, God, the Empty, all of it.

Things then follow along in the episode where they did up until Dean dies and wakes up in heaven. After his conversation with Bobby, he drives off to find Cas (who, in the script, was listed as “Jimmy Novak” in order to protect against script leaks--who wouldn’t want to do their best to avoid spoilers about the finale with the wrapping of a fifteen-year show?). He does indeed find Cas. We get Dean’s end of the confession. Hell, maybe we even get a kiss. And then Dean sets up his new heaven home in the recreated Harvelle’s. Maybe Cas even fucking moves in.

Years pass. We get Sam having his life on Earth (still can’t explain why they cut Eileen and couldn’t even have Sam signing vaguely to the blurry brunette in the background; if anyone wants to take that on, go for it). Eventually, Cas tells Dean that it’s almost Sam’s time. Dean takes Baby and goes to meet Sam at the bridge. The cover of Carry on My Wayward Son plays during this much shorter sequence. End of episode.

But that’s not what we got. Instead, much of what I just wrote about was excised from the episode. The remnants were stitched together after shooting had been wrapped. Filler was added in the form of montages and long, unnecessary extra shots to get the episode to something approaching a reasonable length.

But why? Why would they spend all that time and money and quarantining on Misha, only to almost completely cut him out of the finale? I struggled with why the fuck the CW would want this mammoth show to go down as the greatest queerbait in TV history when they had the chance to do something truly beautiful and monumental with it? It couldn’t just be sheer homophobia, right? Well, I think that factored into it, my friends, but here is where my head is at right now.

It was about cold, hard cash.

Now I could be wrong, but this is what I’m thinking at the moment: Supernatural is going off of the air. Supernatural, the CW’s cash cow for fifteen years. Sure there is still money to be made on blu-rays and merchandise and cons...but they need people watching their shows. They need that sweet advertising revenue. And you know what show they have about to premiere? A show that could, potentially, bring with it a chunk of that SPN revenue?

Walker.

And if any of you know anything about the original Walker Texas Ranger, you know that the show was predominantly a show about a very heterosexual white man being very excessively heterosexual. And for SOME REASON over the years, many of the execs at the CW still seem to think that this show, Supernatural, is really attractive to a lot of middle-American white men...whom they desperately want to watch this new show with this guy from Supernatural that they already know.

Now here’s where COVID fucked us. I think Destiel was greenlit by TPTB, at least in SOME form, before COVID. But then the pandemic happened, and they panicked. They got the cut of the last two episodes and watched them in their original, probably queer form. And then, the execs at CW looked at the economy. They looked at their cash cow, about to make its journey to the great beyond. And they looked at this new little calf Walker that they were so desperately worried about. And they made a choice.

They decided that it would be too risky to take the step with Destiel. They were worried about frightening off their ever-so-valuable hetero male demographic with the possibility that a traditionally masculine man in his 40s could be in love with another man in an overt way. It was homophobia mixed with greed, spun up by fear for their revenues because of COVID.

So they called in Singer, possibly Dabb, although I wouldn’t be surprised if they went straight to Singer. They told them that Destiel had to go: executive orders. And the only way to make it go in a way that removed any trace of what had been there was to rewrite what happened to Cas and cut him out from the last two episodes entirely. It was too late to reshoot anything. They had to just cut and stitch and fill with bullshit montages.

They removed the scene at the end of 19, probably because Cas and Lucifer discussed Dean. All that was left of Misha there was his voice on that fake phone call. They may have cut other things too, but I would bet my life that they cut a scene from the end of the episode and replaced it with that very strange montage. Then they moved onto 20. They cut out every scene with Cas. And left in only two platonic mentions of him, neither made by Dean. They tried to imply that Cas might show up in Dean’s heaven at some point, but that was as far as the editors could go in the time they had. They filled in with montages, awkwardly long shots, anything they could do to fill all of those missing scenes.

And they even had to take the opening montage, because literally everything in it pointed to Cas being there at the end of it all. They wouldn’t be able to leave out his scenes, they were too critical to the season. They couldn’t cut his confession without raising eyebrows. So they cut the whole thing and moved “Carry On My Wayward Son” to one of the newly-added driving montages at the end. Which is why we awkwardly had both songs play back-to-back--again, such a strange choice unless they were out of options and couldn’t exactly buy rights to a new track or compose anything else.

And so we were left with the shadow of the finale that we deserved, that Cas and Dean deserved. We were left without resolution or happiness or words. Bobo told us the most important thing about happiness is just “saying it” and our characters were silenced without anyone ever knowing the truth.

I think the writers might have known and been given the new party line that “Misha never filmed, he couldn’t, sorry, it was COVID, no one’s fault!” But I don’t think most of the cast even knew it had happened until they watched the finale on Thursday with us (though they might have been confused why the bit from 15x19 was sliced, they could reasonably have assumed it was a time thing and also BL episodes don’t make sense anyway). Why do I say that?

Well, first of all, Misha started sending out a bunch of excited texts to fans with some old BTS pictures about an hour before the show started airing on EST. He also wanted his children to see the episode, his YOUNG children. Why would he show them such a traumatic episode if their Dad wasn’t in it? What if it was because he wanted them to witness what was going to be a monumental moment in queer television history that their DAD got to be a part of? And then that was all dashed.

Which is why I think the cast and crew went almost completely radio silent the next day. I don’t think they knew. And based on how they have been acting on social media since then, I think many of them are absolutely furious, but they have been silenced because of NDAs, because they want to find work again in a cutthroat industry, because they don’t want to bring down the hellfire of Warner Brothers Entertainment upon themselves. So the most we have gotten is a little acknowledgement from the MERCHANDISING COMPANY trying to validate our pain (god bless Shirts, she is a LIFESAVER) and a response to my salty tweet about keeping good stuff in the closet from Adam Williams (the VFX coordinator) that seemed to acknowledge the validity of my complaint.

Then there was a scramble behind the scenes, I would bet my life. Talking points were fed to the boys who had panels today, to CE, to all the cast and crew:

Toe the party line. Misha never filmed. This was always about COVID. Do not mention Destiel. Do not mention Dean’s feelings for Cas. Do not promote the Castiel Project or anything that validates the idea that this was anything less than a superb ending.

And that is why we have heard so little from the cast on this front, and what we have heard has been muddled and contradictory. That is why the writers are saying nothing. That is why we have been left adrift.

Now before I close this out, I do want to say that I really, genuinely do not think this was on the writers at all. I feel like they tried to give us the best ending that they could, in a writers room that we know is notorious for splitting along party lines about the overall story (BL and Singer, who have always been about the brothers and their man-pain vs. Dabb and the rest who always seemed to want more for them and for Cas). I think they did everything in their power to at least end with Dean and Cas happy together. If they could give us nothing else, they wanted to give us that. And then the network took it from them. From us. From everyone.

For the sake of fucking money.

And the WORST PART OF IT ALL, for me, is that in the wake of this disaster, the fans have been left to try and figure out what happened. We have had to wade through a mire of conflicting information in the midst of all of our collective anger and grief over this garbage ending of a show many of us have loved and even relied on for YEARS, all the while wondering if we’re just fucking crazy, if we have all fallen collectively into the hole of conspiracy theories. That hurts ESPECIALLY badly because we have taken so many hits over the years from other groups on social media saying we were crazy for seeing things that weren’t there (especially Destiel), for writing meta and analyzing tropes and believing the evidence of our eyes and ears. The network has made us relive that entire nightmare WHILE processing our grief for a show we wanted so badly to celebrate and which instead we now have to mourn.

So again guys, I cannot prove that this is exactly what happened at all; this is simply my idea of what may have happened. But right now, it’s the most sense I can make from this mess, and to be honest, the act of typing it out has helped me enormously in my processing of it all. I feel like I can see more clearly, like I know where to target my outrage and where to direct empathy. I feel like just fucking maybe, I might be able to do my job tomorrow without bursting into tears at random moments.

I really hope that this post has helped some of you to, in some small way, process this too. We get through this the way that Misha told us at his panel this morning, the way the writers have told us to do all season long...we throw out the story God gave us and we make it better. We write our characters the happy endings they deserve.

We save them.

One last thing--if you have not already, please consider channeling your rage into a donation to one of the five causes our fandom has put together to pay tribute to our beloved show and to mourn the ending it should have had:

-The Castiel Project

-Dean Winchester is Love

-Sam Winchester Project

-The National Association of the Deaf

-The Jack Kline Project

#supernatural season 15 #spn finale #speculation #destiel #destielgate #the ending was not the ending #fuck the cw #trust the story #we were robbed

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randomshyperson · 3 years

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Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Road to Healing

Gif is not mine.

Summary: The one where you and Wanda travel around the country while grieving together. / Inspired by road trip-themed movies.

Read Complete work on AO3 too.

Warnings> Explicit language (cursing) , mentions of death, grieve and panic attacks. Mainly fluff and sad.

Words: 4.299K (Oneshot)

When Thanos won, you didn't have time to grieve. Immediately on the battlefield, you were responsible for helping to heal the wounded. And you were exhausted when it was over.

And then S.H.I.E.L.D. was triggered, and you knew they would take Vision if they found him. You thought Wanda wouldn't want that. And you ignored the intense pain you felt at the thought of her, and repeated to yourself that you wouldn't want that either. So you used Tony's technology to bring Vision's body back to the Avengers compound. And then you told them that Thanos had destroyed him along with the jewel, and that's what they wrote in their reports.

When you finally returned home, you only slept after you had organized a memorial for him. You didn't ask your colleagues to participate. The remaining avengers just seemed empty. So you left them alone.

Your hands trembled when you touched the knob of Wanda's room. You were looking for a picture of Vis. You found it eventually. When you left the room, your shirt was wet with your tears.

You thought Vision would like a view of the sea. So you left his body in a black wooden coffin, and buried it on the edge of the hill a few meters from the exit of the complex. You figured that Vision wasn't religious, so you just used the 3D printer to create a little iron plate, and stuck it against the ground.

You could not sleep that night. And the next. When you finally did, your panic attacks started. But the emergency calls started coming in, and you knew you had no time for grief. The world needed you now.

You learned to deal with the panic, but the nightmares continued. So you accepted more assignments, until you were too exhausted to dream. And then you got used to it.

And like the snap of a finger, five years passed.

When you defeated Thanos, you fell to your knees. You couldn't find Natasha. And then you couldn't breathe. You realize what was happening, you knew they were back. But you can't go through this again. Because the world needs you again. And then you calm down, and you stand up. And then you are walking.

Steve doesn't come back. You think you hear Bucky crying in his room. But you don't say anything, because he doesn't like to talk about it.

You take Wanda to the tomb of Vision two days before Tony's funeral. She sobs against you as you hug her, your own tears preventing you from seeing your surroundings clearly. You haven't left her side since.

After Tony's funeral is over, you destroy the items in your room with a bat. When you fall to the ground, Wanda sits beside you quietly, and holds your hand. She doesn't mind you shouting Nat's name along with your sobs.

- I can't stay here anymore. - You tell her the next night, while you are in your room. - I can't breathe in this place. - You confess with tears on your face. - I feel like I'm going to die.

Wanda intertwines your hands.

- Let's leave then.

You let out a long sigh, trying to control your tears. And then you nod.

Your mood improves considerably once you are out of the compound. You don't think about Nat, or Tony, or Steve, because if you do, your hands start to shake. But you think about healing. You think about being there for your best friend.

And then you decide to live. And you hold both of Wanda's hands when you tell her that you are going to travel. Travel to all the places she hasn't visited in the United States.

You want to remember that there are still things to live for. You want Nat to be proud of you.

When Wanda nods in agreement, you smile, and hug her. And then you get a truck, and you let Wanda hold the map.

It is hot and humid, and you drum your fingers against the steering wheel, humming softly the pop song playing on the radio.

Wanda fell asleep against the passenger seat some time ago, and it has been a few hours since you left the small motel where you were staying after leaving the Avengers compound.

You are hungry, so you stop the car at the first dinner you find. The loss of movement of the vehicle awakens Wanda.

- Hey sleepyhead. - You joke as you take out your key, and look for your wallet in the glove compartment. - Let's go get something to eat.

You walk to the diner, which is practically empty. Wanda doesn't seem to be fully awake yet, but smiles at you when she catches you looking. You sit down on opposite sides of the table.

- I'll have the eggs and bacon, and pancakes, please. - You tell the waitress, and Wanda gives you a curious look. She orders cereal and chocolate waffles.

- Why are we having breakfast for dinner? - she asks with a smile.

You shrug, laughing lightly.

- It's always time for pancakes.

Wanda looks at you for a moment, and you look back. And then you are having a blinking contest. The waitress gives you a judgmental look when she interrupts the game, but you and Wanda smile and thank her for the food.

You finish eating first, and are distracted by one of the crossword puzzle magazines that the restaurant leaves under the tables.

- Hey, Wands, help me with this one. - You say slightly distracted as you run your pencil across the paper. - "One word. Destined for belonging. Companionship. Devotion" Do you have any idea what it is?

- Soulmates. - Wanda says before chewing another piece of waffle. You let out a contented exclamation when the word fits, and smile at her, who just winks at you, smiling back.

- Does this taste good? - you ask, watching her eat. She nods, pushing her plate toward you. Wanda hands you her own fork to taste the waffles. They are very good, but you don't want to eat any more.

You can't finish your crossword puzzle, and you return the magazine to the table compartment before you leave the restaurant.

And then it is Wanda's turn to drive. You sit in the passenger seat, and turn up the radio as you get back on the road. You wish you could stay awake at night to keep Wanda company, but it only takes four songs for you to fall asleep.

It is morning when you arrive in Virgina. And it is cold enough for you to wrap Wanda in a scarf when she refuses to warm up properly. She just laughs with flushed cheeks when you let her go. You rent a room with two beds, and after you shower, Wanda goes into the bathroom.

You are browsing through the channels when she comes back with a towel wrapped in her hair, she smells good even from a distance.

- Do you want to go out to eat, or do you want to order a pizza? - you ask.

- Pizza. - She replies as she lies down on the bed.

You need to go out and look for a pay phone, because both of your cell phones are off and in the bottom of one of the boxes you are carrying in the truck.

- Shall we watch a movie? - she asks when you come back into the room.

- Comedy or horror? - You counter with a question as you kick off your shoes. Wanda bites her lip thoughtfully.

- Both.

You smile as you hang your coat on the door.

You have been watching "Scary Movie" for twenty minutes when the pizza arrives. Wanda pauses the movie while you stand up and pay the delivery man.

She uses her powers to drag the coffee table into the space between the two beds, and you place the pizza on top of the wood and sit cross-legged on Wanda's bed.

Eventually, you finish the pizza and wipe your hands with napkins. And then Wanda lets the movie sequence continue, and you remain in her bed with the excuse that it was cold. You fall asleep at the end of the second film, but you wake up in the early morning hours with Wanda's hand against your waist. You don't think you should get used to the feeling, so you get up and go back to your bed.

Wanda cries when you arrive in Virginia Beach. You know it is the view of the sea, which reminded her of the tomb of Vision. You stand silently beside her as you entwine your hands. Wanda doesn't let go until you get back to the car.

It's cold, and you shouldn't have ice cream. But you do it anyway. You and Wanda stop at a drive-thru, and have your milkshakes while you drive toward Tennessee.

You let her have the rest of your ice cream even though she's had many tastes already.

On one of the roads, you stop the car on the roadside. You try to normalize your breathing.

- I'm here. - She says next to you in a gentle voice, as she lets you squeeze her hand over your lap. - You are safe.

You exchange directions for a while.

- So you have never been to Disney? - You ask between one lighthouse and another, somewhere in North Carolina.

Wanda denies it with a smile and a nod. She has only one hand on the wheel, and her hair is shining in the sun. You scold yourself for looking.

- Since we can't afford Disney, we should pick something cheap to do - You tell her while looking at one of the tour guides you found at the motel.

- I don't mind just driving around. - she says. You bite the smile from your lips.

- Yeah, me neither.

It takes two weeks for you to talk about Natasha. You have changed routes many times now, and then you sit in the back of the truck, and look at the stars. And Wanda asks you about your nightmares. You say that you dream that Nat is falling, and that you can never reach her. You fall asleep together in the back of the car, many blankets wrapped around you.

When you wake up holding each other, neither of you really minds.

You are near Chicago when you drag Wanda to an arcade in the late afternoon.

You and Wanda try out all the toys that are allowed for you. It's fun, and loud. And you laugh so hard your cheeks hurt.

And then you eat hamburger and fries with soda sitting in a parking lot. You push Wanda's shoulder lightly with yours when she steals one of your fries.

You are in a clothing bazaar when you see Wanda's breasts for the first time. In between trying on various strange outfits for fun, the fifth or sixth time you return to the changing room, Wanda pulls you into the cabin with her. And she smiles so much that you hardly notice them.

When you get back to the motel, you bathe first. You touch yourself in the shower without really thinking about anything, but when you cum, the image of her breasts are in your mind.

In Michigan you bet on a race. And Wanda absolutely beats you. She has flushed cheeks and a sweaty face when you catch up with her. You think it's unfair that she looks so beautiful.

You watch the sunset, and Wanda thinks she has seen an owl.

Your body begins to betray you when Wanda hugs you and you tremble. You decide that it is because you have been a long time without touching another person intimately and being touched in the same way.

You joke with Wanda that you need to find a one-night stand, and she doesn't smile when she agrees with you.

As you drive towards Kansas, a waitress flirts with you. Wanda gets back in the car saying that she is tired, and you don't understand why kissing the waitress against a wall while she has one hand down your pants doesn't satisfy you.

You talk about death in Springfield. You are sharing popcorn while wrapped in a blanket sitting on the grass a few feet from the truck.

- You can't die. - She declares suddenly and you raise your eyebrows in surprise.

- Wanda...?

- I won't... I won't survive.

You turned around quickly, and held up both your hands.

- I wouldn't like that. - You tell her. You know it's what she doesn't want to hear, but you need her to understand that. - I would never want your life to depend on mine.

Wanda sobs, lowering her head.

- I wish you would move on. - You nod to reaffirm her statement, your own face wet with tears. - I know... people expect me to say that I wish you would miss me, or not replace me. But I don't feel that way. - You confess. - I never want to be the reason for your unhappiness. If I die, and well, at some point I will, I want you to go on living. And enjoying it.

Wanda shakes her head, and jumps on your neck. She cries against your collarbone, but it's okay. You think she understood what you told her.

When she calms down, you are silent for several moments.

- What will you do if I die? - she asks, looking at you. You keep your gaze on the stars as you shrug;

- I would die too.

Wanda bites back a smile on her lips, and hugs you.

Bucky calls. You talk for five minutes. And then you text him that when he is ready you will be there to listen to him. You send a picture of you and Wanda, and when he calls again, you talk for five hours.

It takes four weeks since you left the compound to realize that you are in love with Wanda.

You are in a motel somewhere in Nebraska, and she is combing her hair in front of the television, a sitcom playing. And then she laughs, and you realize.

The realization doesn't surprise you though. You take a deep breath, and tell her you're going to get some air before you leave.

You lean back on the balcony, trying to push the guilt away. You can hardly believe it happened so fast and so intensely.

You decide that everything is too recent, and that it would be disrespectful to Wanda's grief, so you guard yourself.

You fight for the first time in Colorado. You are being stubborn and rude, and Wanda is being distant and judgmental. And then you are arguing about the next destination. And then you stop the car on the roadside, and Wanda says she's not going anywhere with you. And you are silent for forty minutes before you two start to cry.

You put your face against the steering wheel, and Wanda lifts her legs onto the seat and buries her face in her own arms.

It takes a long moment for you to calm down. And then you wipe away your tears and Wanda looks away into the window, and you drive away again.

You are staying in Utah for a few days. It is the first time you ask for separate rooms. You want to cry again, but you just take the key.

And then you can't sleep after four hours as you stare at the ceiling.

You get up, and go out onto the veranda. And your feet guide you to the next door. But before you can knock, Wanda opens it, and jumps into you, hugging you tight. Your body instantly relaxes, and you cry as you both apologize, and promise never to fight again.

You get drunk in Las Vegas. Really drunk. You don't remember ever laughing as hard as you did that night. You think Wanda used her powers to win the games, but you can't prove it. And then you're back in the truck, stumbling and laughing, and she has a look on her face that makes your stomach turn with nervousness.

But you swallow your nervousness with a smile, and accept the bottle of vodka she offers you. And then you are in a karaoke bar, singing at the top of your lungs for two hours into the early morning hours. When the owner kicks you out, Wanda holds your hand as you both run around town.

Back at the motel, you are laughing about something you can't remember, and then you fall into bed together, and instantly fall asleep.

When you wake up, you don't care about your headache.

You get the same tattoo in Las Vegas. Wanda holds and squeezes your hand while you are doing it, and you do the same to her. The tattoo artist thought you were married, and neither of you corrects him.

And then you take her to all the tourist spots, and you have ice cream and hot dogs. And Wanda's hand is warm against yours all the way.

On your last day in LA, you visit a nightclub. It is noisy, and lively, and has lots of alcohol. You find it hard to breathe when you see Wanda in a party dress, but she smiles and you follow her.

And then you dance and dance and dance, and you think about nothing. And then you're drunk again, and the girl at the bar is flirting with you. And Wanda's no longer smiling when she gets back on the dance floor.

You think the girl at the bar has asked for your number, but you're looking at Wanda dancing. And she moves her body with sensuality, and then there is a man behind her. Wanda kisses him while looking at you through the lights.

You take a shot of whiskey before leaving in a rage.

And when Wanda wakes up in the morning, she says she doesn't remember anything.

You think that you can no longer hide what you feel when you are on the road, heading for Oregon. But you just keep mumbling the song that plays on the radio.

Wanda bites her lip and has a lost look on her face, but when you ask her what's wrong, she looks away quickly as she says she was just distracted.

You are entertained by the music again.

You get used to your feelings in Portland. The routine helps you keep them quiet and buried deep in your chest.

You and Wanda begin to spend more time in inns, and camping, than on the road, but you still travel around the country.

And then Wanda talks about Vision for the first time. How important he had been, how much she missed him. You listen, and she asks about Nat. And you say that it is exactly the same way.

Neither of you cries anymore at the mention of their names.

It doesn't take long before the world needs you again. Sam calls. Stephen calls. You and Wanda throw your cell phones off a cliff, while toasting a lemonade.

- We are terrible superheroes, aren't we? - you ask looking at the horizon.

- The worst. - She replies before pouring her drink into her mouth.

You get your numbers back the same day by going to an electronics store.

And then you have to go back to New York.

Four hours down the road, and you both stop for a bite to eat in Cleveland, at a diner very similar to the one at your first stop.

Wanda walks ahead of you, hugging her own sweatshirt as she feels the late afternoon chill. You resist the urge to hug her.

- I'll have the waffles with chocolate and cereal. - You ask the waitress. Wanda stares at the menu for a few more seconds, biting her lower lip before speaking.

- I'll have the eggs and bacon with pancakes. - She asks right away.

You are silent for a moment, exchanging glances and quick smiles. And then the waitress returns with your plates.

- Are you ready to save the world again, Wandy? - you ask with a light irony in your voice before tasting your ceral.

Wanda smiles.

- Of course, of course. - She answers with humor. But her expression slowly falls, as if she is remembering something. You look at her with curiosity and concern.

- Are you all right?

- I just... - She begins. And then she straightens her posture, and diverts her eyes from yours. - What happens next? - You frown uncomprehendingly. Wanda looks unsure. - After we finish the job. This ends too?

You swallow dryly, feeling embarrassed and nervous. But you do your best to avoid showing it.

- Do you want it to end? - You ask.

- No. - She confesses as she looks into your eyes.- I'd like us to continue together.

- I'm not going anywhere, Wanda. - You assure her with a smile. And then you bite the inside of your cheek, feeling anxious. - Don't you... don't you wish you had a fixed place to stay?

Wanda blinks in confusion, looking surprised at your question.

- I just... I love the road and all. Mostly because you're with me. - You say, and don't notice her blush at the last sentence. - But I'd like to have a house. Especially now that we're going back to work. I wouldn't mind living in New York.

- Are you inviting me to move in with you? - Wanda asks with a mixture of curiosity and embarrassment, and you feel your face heat up.

- Yes, I ... I'd like that. - You say, and seeing Wanda's surprised expression, you hasten to add. - But I understand if you just want the road! That's fine, I'll stand by you too!

Wanda reaches your hand quickly over the table, and she has a huge smile on her lips.

- I would love to live with you.

- Oh. - You sigh ruefully, feeling as if a weight has been lifted from your back. - Cool.

- Cool. - Wanda repeats with a mischievous smile and a twinkle in her eye.

And then you go back to eating in silence.

You are in the passenger seat while Wanda hums a song along to the noise of the radio. It is dark and she is waiting for the first motel she can find to park. And you look at her, looking so good, and comfortable, and happy. And your brain is screaming how much you love her in an endless loop, while your heart threatens to explode in your chest.

So you think you'd better face the landscape because you're getting out of breath. But then Wanda is parking the car on the roadside, and you think maybe she's going to pee, but then she doesn't come out. You turn and find her gripping the steering wheel with both hands as she looks ahead.

- Hey, what happened? - you ask worriedly. Wanda closes her eyes.

- I read your mind.

The confession shocks you immediately.

- W-what? - You retort with a trembling voice.

Wanda opens her eyes, and lets go of the steering wheel. And she has a tender expression to calm you down.

- Hey, it's okay, I...

- No.

You mumble breathlessly, holding back tears, as you quickly unbuckle your seat belt and get out of the car.

You think you finally blew it. Wanda knew, and this was the end.

Leaning against the car, you hugged your arms as you tried to calm your breathing with your eyes closed. You were startled when Wanda touched your shoulders, not even having heard her get out of the car.

- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. - You cried when she hugged you. Your body was shaking. - I tried to avoid it. I'm sorry.

- Stop saying that. - She asked softly, letting her hands caress your back to calm you down. - You didn't do anything wrong. - She tries to say it, but you hold her tight, afraid she'll be gone at any moment. - Hey, look at me.

Wanda asks a few more times before you let go, trying to control your tears. Only when you look at her do you realize that she too has a crying face.

- I don't want to lose you. - You whimper. - I'll control myself, I can send them away. And everything will go back to the way it was before.

Wanda denies it with her head, raising her hands to your face. You think she's going to say you both can't do this anymore, and your stomach flips.

- I love you. - She confesses, looking up at you. - I love you. - She repeats as she wipes your tears with her fingers. You're too shocked to react. - I love you so much.

And then Wanda kisses you. And you stumble with fright, but the car behind you won't let you move away from her body. And then your eyes close, and you surrender. A long sigh escapes your lips as you feel Wanda's tongue on yours.

And you kiss until you are breathless. And then your body is warm, trembling, and Wanda kisses you again, and again, as she presses you against the car.

And then you don't want to be dressed anymore, as Wanda lets her hands run all over you.

You don't separate your mouths as you fall into the back seat, Wanda on top moaning into your mouth.

The glass of the car is fogged as your hand slips on the window, trembling at Wanda's intimate touch, and delighting in the sounds she makes when you kiss her in all the right places.

You are happy. Fucking delighted. And you didn't want to keep driving, not unless it was to a house that was going to be yours and Wanda's. But Stephen and Sam were calling, saying that you were taking too long. Then you drove back to New York, and this time, Wanda's hand was entwined in yours.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda vision #wandavision au #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #marvel imagines #road trip au

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‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame’ at 25: An Oral History of Disney’s Darkest Animated Classic

Posted on Slashfilm on Monday, June 21st, 2021 by Josh Spiegel

“This Is Going to Change Your Life”

The future directors of The Hunchback of Notre Dame were riding high from the success of Beauty and the Beast. Or, at least, they were happy to be finished.

Gary Trousdale, director: After Beauty and the Beast, I was exhausted. Plus, Kirk and I were not entirely trusted at first, because we were novices. I was looking forward to going back to drawing.

Kirk Wise, director: It was this crazy, wonderful roller-coaster ride. I had all this vacation time and I took a couple months off.

Gary Trousdale: A little later, it was suggested: “If you want to get back into directing, start looking for a project. You can’t sit around doing nothing.”

Kirk Wise: [Songwriters] Lynn Ahrens and Stephen Flaherty had a pitch called Song of the Sea, a loose retelling of the Orpheus myth with humpback whales. I thought it was very strong.

Gary Trousdale: We were a few months in, and there was artwork and a rough draft. There were a couple tentative songs, and we were getting a head of steam.

Kirk Wise: The phone rang. It was Jeffrey [Katzenberg, then-chairman of Walt Disney Studios], saying, “Drop everything. I got your next picture: The Hunchback of Notre Dame.”

Gary Trousdale: “I’ve already got Alan Menken and Stephen Schwartz. You’re going to do this.” It wasn’t like we were given a choice. It was, “Here’s the project. You’re on.”

Kirk Wise: I was pleased that [Jeffrey] was so excited about it. I think the success of Beauty and the Beast had a lot to do with him pushing it our way. It would’ve been crazy to say no.

Gary Trousdale: What [Kirk and I] didn’t know is that Alan and Stephen were being used as bait for us. And Jeffrey was playing us as bait for Alan and Stephen.

Alan Menken, composer: Jeffrey made reference to it being Michael Eisner’s passion project, which implied he was less enthused about it as a story source for an animated picture.

Stephen Schwartz, lyricist: They had two ideas. One was an adaptation of Hunchback and the other was about whales. We chose Hunchback. I’d seen the [Charles Laughton] movie. Then I read the novel and really liked it.

Peter Schneider, president of Disney Feature Animation (1985-99): I think what attracted Stephen was the darkness. One’s lust for something and one’s power and vengeance, and this poor, helpless fellow, Quasimodo.

Roy Conli, co-producer: I was working at the Mark Taper Forum in Los Angeles, doing new play development. I was asked if I’d thought about producing animation. I said, “Yeah, sure.”

Don Hahn, producer: The goose had laid lots of golden eggs. The studio was trying to create two units so they could have multiple films come out. Roy was tasked with something hard, to build a crew out of whole cloth.

Kirk Wise: The idea appealed to me because [of] the setting and main character. I worked with an elder story man, Joe Grant, [who] goes back to Snow White. He said, “Some of the best animation ideas are about a little guy with a big problem.” Hunchback fit that bill.

Gary Trousdale: It’s a story I always liked. When Jeffrey said, “This is going to change your life,” Kirk and I said, “Cool.” When I was a kid, I [had an] Aurora Monster Model of Quasimodo lashed to the wheel. I thought, “He’s not a monster.”

Don Hahn: It’s a great piece of literature and it had a lot of elements I liked. The underdog hero. [He] was not a handsome prince. I loved the potential.

Gary Trousdale: We thought, “What are we going to do to make this dark piece of literature into a Disney cartoon without screwing it up?”

Peter Schneider: The subject matter is very difficult. The conflict was how far to go with it or not go with it. This is basically [about] a pederast who says “Fuck me or you’ll die.” Right?

“We Were Able to Take More Chances”

Wise and Trousdale recruited a group of disparate artists from the States and beyond to bring the story of Quasimodo the bell-ringer to animated life.

Paul Brizzi, sequence director: We were freshly arrived from Paris.

Gaëtan Brizzi, sequence director: [The filmmakers] were looking for a great dramatic prologue, and they couldn’t figure [it] out. Paul and I spent the better part of the night conceiving this prologue. They said, “You have to storyboard it. We love it.”

Roy Conli: We had two amazing artists in Paul and Gaëtan Brizzi who became spiritual leaders in the production. They were so incredible.

Gaëtan Brizzi: [“The Bells of Notre Dame”] was not supposed to be a song first.

Paul Brizzi: The prologue was traditional in the Disney way. Gaëtan and I were thinking of German expressionism to emphasize the drama. I’m not sure we could do that today.

Paul Kandel, voice of Clopin: They were toying with Clopin being the narrator. So they wrote “The Bells of Notre Dame” to open the movie.

Stephen Schwartz: [Alan and I] got called into a presentation, and on all these boards [was] laid out “The Bells of Notre Dame.” We musicalized the story they put up there. We used the pieces of dialogue they invented for Frollo and the other characters. I wrote lyrics that described the narrative. It was very exciting. I had never written a song like that.

Kirk Wise: Early on, we [took] a research trip with the core creative team to Paris. We spent two weeks all over Notre Dame. They gave us unrestricted access, going down into the catacombs. That was a huge inspiration.

Don Hahn: To crawl up in the bell towers and imagine Quasimodo there, to see the bells and the timbers, the scale of it all is unbelievable.

Kirk Wise: One morning, I was listening to this pipe organ in this shadowy cathedral, with light filtering through the stained-glass windows. The sound was so powerful, I could feel it thudding in my chest. I thought, “This is what the movie needs to feel like.”

Brenda Chapman, story: It was fun to sit in a room and draw and think up stuff. I liked the idea of this lonely character up in a bell tower and how we could portray his imagination.

Kathy Zielinski, supervising animator, Frollo: It was the earliest I’ve ever started on a production. I was doing character designs for months. I did a lot of design work for the gargoyles, as a springboard for the other supervisors.

James Baxter, supervising animator, Quasimodo: Kirk and Gary said, “We’d like you to do Quasimodo.” [I thought] that would be such a cool, amazing thing to do. They wanted this innocent vibe to him. Part of the design process was getting that part of his character to read.

Will Finn, head of story/supervising animator, Laverne: Kirk and Gary wanted me on the project. Kirk, Gary, and Don Hahn gave me opportunities no one else would have, and I am forever grateful.

Kathy Zielinski: I spent several months doing 50 or 60 designs [for Frollo]. I looked at villainous actors. Actually, one was Peter Schneider. [laughing] Not to say he’s a villain, but a lot of the mannerisms and poses. “Oh, that looks a little like Peter.”

James Baxter: I was doing design work on the characters with Tony Fucile, the animator on Esmerelda. I think Kirk and Gary felt Beauty and the Beast had been disparate and the characters weren’t as unified as they wanted.

Kathy Zielinski: Frollo stemmed from Hans Conried [the voice of Disney’s Captain Hook]. He had a longish nose and a very stern-looking face. Frollo was modeled a little bit after him.

Will Finn: The team they put together was a powerhouse group – Brenda Chapman, Kevin Harkey, Ed Gombert, and veterans like Burny Mattinson and Vance Gerry. I felt funny being their “supervisor.”

Kathy Zielinski: Half my crew was in France, eight hours ahead. We were able to do phone calls. But because of the time difference, our end of the day was their beginning of the morning. I was working a lot of late hours, because [Frollo] was challenging to draw.

Kirk Wise: Our secret weapon was James Baxter, who animated the ballroom sequence [in Beauty and the Beast] on his own. He had a unique gift of rotating characters in three-dimensional space perfectly.

Gary Trousdale: James Baxter is, to my mind, one of the greatest living animators in the world.

James Baxter: I’ve always enjoyed doing things that were quite elaborate in terms of camera movement and three-dimensional space. I’m a glutton for punishment, because those shots are very hard to do.

Gary Trousdale: In the scene with Quasimodo carrying Esmeralda over his shoulder, climbing up the cathedral, he looks back under his arms, snarling at the crowd below. James called that his King Kong moment.

As production continued, Roy Conli’s position shifted, as Don Hahn joined the project, and Jeffrey Katzenberg left Disney in heated fashion in 1994.

Roy Conli: Jeffrey was going to create his own animation studio. Peter Schneider was interested in maintaining a relationship with Don Hahn. We were into animation, ahead of schedule. They asked Don if he would produce and if I would run the studio in Paris.

Don Hahn: Roy hadn’t done an animated film before. I was able to be a more senior presence. I’d worked with Kirk and Gary before, which I enjoy. They’re unsung heroes of these movies.

Kirk Wise: The [production] pace was more leisurely. As leisurely as these things can be. We had more breathing room to develop the storyboards and the script and the songs.

Gary Trousdale: Jeffrey never liked characters to have facial hair. No beards, no mustaches, nothing. There’s original designs of Gaston [with] a little Errol Flynn mustache. Jeffrey hated it. “I don’t want any facial hair.” Once he left, we were like, “We could give [Phoebus] a beard now.”

Kirk Wise: The ballroom sequence [in Beauty] gave us confidence to incorporate more computer graphics into Hunchback. We [had] to create the illusion of a throng of thousands of cheering people. To do it by hand would have been prohibitive, and look cheap.

Stephen Schwartz: Michael Eisner started being more hands-on. Michael was annoyed at me for a while, because when Jeffrey left, I accepted the job of doing the score for Prince of Egypt. I got fired from Mulan because of it. But once he fired me, Michael couldn’t have been a more supportive, positive colleague on Hunchback.

Kirk Wise: [The executives] were distracted. We were able to take more chances than we would have under the circumstances that we made Beauty and the Beast.

Don Hahn: Hunchback was in a league of its own, feeling like we [could] step out and take some creative risks. We could have done princess movies forever, and been reasonably successful. Our long-term survival relied on trying those risks.

One sticking point revolved around Notre Dame’s gargoyles, three of whom interact with Quasimodo, but feel more lighthearted than the rest of the dark story.

Gary Trousdale: In the book and several of the movies, Quasimodo talks to the gargoyles. We thought, “This is Disney, we’re doing a cartoon. The gargoyles can talk back.” One thing led to another and we’ve got “A Guy Like You.”

Kirk Wise: “A Guy Like You” was literally created so we could lighten the mood so the audience wasn’t sitting in this trough of despair for so long.

Stephen Schwartz: Out of context, the number is pretty good. I think I wrote some funny lyrics. But ultimately it was a step too far tonally for the movie and it has been dropped from the stage version.

Gary Trousdale: People have been asking for a long time: are they real? Are they part of Quasimodo’s personality? There were discussions that maybe Quasimodo is schizophrenic. We never definitively answered it, and can argue convincingly both ways.

Jason Alexander, voice of Hugo: I wouldn’t dream of interfering with anyone’s choice on that. It’s ambiguous for a reason and part of that reason is the viewers’ participation in the answer. Whatever you believe about it, I’m going to say you’re right.

Brenda Chapman: I left before they landed on how [to play] the gargoyles. My concern was, what are the rules? Are they real? Are they in his imagination? What can they do? Can they do stuff or is it all Quasi? I looked at it a little askance in the finished film. I wasn’t sure if I liked how it ended up…[Laverne] with the boa on the piano.

Kirk Wise: There was a component of the audience that felt the gargoyles were incompatible with Hunchback. But all of Disney’s movies, including the darkest ones, have comic-relief characters. And Disney was the last person to treat the written word as gospel.

“A Fantastic Opportunity”

After a successful collaboration on Pocahontas, Menken and Schwartz worked on turning Victor Hugo’s tragic story into a musical.

Alan Menken: The world of the story was very appealing, and it had so much social relevance and cultural nuance.

Stephen Schwartz: The story lent itself quite well to musicalization because of the extremity of the characters and the emotions. There was a lot to sing about. There was a great milieu.

Alan Menken: To embed the liturgy of the Catholic Church into a piece of music that’s operatic and also classical and pop-oriented enriches it in a very original way. Stephen was amazing. He would take the theme from the story and specifically set it in Latin to that music.

Stephen Schwartz: The fact that we were doing a piece set in a church allowed us to use all those elements of the Catholic mass, and for Alan to do all that wonderful choral music.

Alan Menken: The first creative impulse was “Out There.” I’m a craftsman. I’m working towards a specific assignment, but that was a rare instance where that piece of music existed.

Stephen Schwartz: I would come in with a title, maybe a couple of lines for Alan to be inspired by. We would talk about the whole unit, its job from a storytelling point of view. He would write some music. I could say, “I liked that. Let’s follow that.” He’d push a button and there would be a sloppy printout, enough that I could play it as I was starting the lyrics.

Roy Conli: Stephen’s lyrics are absolutely phenomenal. With that as a guiding light, we were in really good shape.

Stephen Schwartz: Alan played [the “Out There” theme] for me, and I really liked it. I asked for one change in the original chorus. Other than that, the music was exactly as he gave it to me.

Gary Trousdale: Talking with these guys about music is always intimidating. There was one [lyric] Don and I both questioned in “Out There,” when Frollo is singing, “Why invite their calumny and consternation?” Don and I went, “Calumny?” Kirk said, “Nope, it’s OK, I saw it in an X-Men comic book.” I went, “All right! It’s in a comic book! It’s good.”

Stephen Schwartz: Disney made it possible for me to get into Notre Dame before it opened to the public. I’d climb up the steps to the bell tower. I’d sit there with my yellow pad and pencil. I’d have the tune for “Out There” in my head, and I would look out at Paris, and be Quasimodo. By the time we left Paris, the song was written.

Kirk Wise: Stephen’s lyrics are really smart and literate. I don’t think the comical stuff was necessarily [his] strongest area. But this movie was a perfect fit, because the power of the emotions were so strong. Stephen just has a natural ability to connect with that.

Will Finn: The directors wanted a funny song for the gargoyles and Stephen was not eager to write it. He came to me and Irene Mecchi and asked us to help him think of comedy ideas for “A Guy Like You,” and we pitched a bunch of gags.

Jason Alexander: Singing with an orchestra the likes of which Alan and Stephen and Disney can assemble is nirvana. It’s electrifying and gives you the boost to sing over and over. Fortunately, everyone was open to discovery. I love nuance and intention in interpretation. I was given wonderful freedom to find both.

Stephen Schwartz: “Topsy Turvy,” it’s one of those numbers of musical theater where you can accomplish an enormous amount of storytelling. If you didn’t have that, you’d feel you were drowning in exposition. When you put it in the context of the celebration of the Feast of Fools, you could get a lot of work done.

Paul Kandel: The first time I sang [“Topsy Turvy”] through, I got a little applause from the orchestra. That was a very nice thing to happen and calm me down a little bit.

Brenda Chapman: Poor Kevin Harkey must’ve worked on “Topsy Turvy” for over a year. Just hearing [singing] “Topsy turvy!” I thought, “I would shoot myself.” It’s a fun song, but to listen to that, that many times. I don’t know if he ever got to work on anything else.

Paul Kandel: There were places where I thought the music was squarer than it needed to be. I wanted to round it out because Clopin is unpredictable. Is he good? Is he bad? That’s what I was trying to edge in there.

Kirk Wise: “God Help the Outcasts” made Jeffrey restless. I think he wanted “Memory” from Cats. Alan and Stephen wrote “Someday.” Jeffrey said, “This is good, but it needs to be bigger!” Alan was sitting at his piano bench, and Jeffrey was next to him. Jeffrey said, “When I want it bigger, I’ll nudge you.” Alan started playing and Jeffrey was jabbing him in the ribs. “Bigger, bigger!”

Don Hahn: In terms of what told the story better, one song was poetic, but the other was specific. “Outcasts” was very specific about Quasimodo. “Someday” was “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”

Kirk Wise: When Don watched the movie, he said, “It’s working pretty well. But ‘Someday,’ I don’t know. It feels like she’s yelling at God.” We played “God Help the Outcasts” for him and Don said, “Oh, this is perfect.” That song is the signature of the entire movie.

Don Hahn: “Someday” was lovely. But I had come off of working with Howard Ashman, and I felt, “This doesn’t move the plot forward much, does it?” We ended up with “Someday” as an end-credits song, which was fortunate. ‘Cause they’re both good songs.

Kirk Wise: It was all about what conveys the emotion of the scene and the central theme of the movie best. “God Help the Outcasts” did that.

Everyone agrees on one point.

Stephen Schwartz: Hunchback is Alan’s best score. And that’s saying a lot, because he’s written a whole bunch of really good ones.

Gary Trousdale: With Hunchback, there were a couple of people that said, “This is why I chose music as a career.” Alan and Stephen’s songs are so amazing, so that’s really something.

Paul Kandel: It has a beautiful score.

Jason Alexander: It has the singularly most sophisticated score of most of the animated films of that era.

Roy Conli: The score of Hunchback is one of the greatest we’ve done.

Don Hahn: This is Alan’s most brilliant score. The amount of gravitas Alan put in the score is amazing.

Alan Menken: It’s the most ambitious score I’ve ever written. It has emotional depth. It’s a different assignment. And it was the project where awards stopped happening. It’s almost like, “OK, now you’ve gone too far.”

Stephen Schwartz: It’s astonishing that Alan has won about 173 Academy Awards, and the one score he did not win for is his best score.

The film featured marquee performers singing covers of “God Help the Outcasts” and “Someday”. But one of the most famous performers ever nearly brought those songs to life.

Alan Menken: I met Michael Jackson when we were looking for someone to sing “A Whole New World” for Aladdin. Michael wanted to co-write the song. I could get a sense of who Michael was. He was a very unique, interesting individual…in his own world.

I get a call out of nowhere from Michael’s assistant, when Michael was at the Four Seasons Hotel in New York. He had to [deal with] allegations about inappropriate behavior with underage kids, and the breakup with Lisa Marie Presley. He’s looking to change the subject. And he obviously loves Disney so much. So I mentioned Hunchback. He said he’d love to come to my studio, watch the movie and talk about it. So we got in touch with Disney Animation. They said, “Meet with him! If he likes it…well, see what he says.” [laughing]

There’s three songs. One was “Out There,” one was “God Help the Outcasts,” one was “Someday.” Michael said, “I would like to produce the songs and record some of them.” Wow. Okay. What do we do now? Michael left. We got in touch with Disney. It was like somebody dropped a hot poker into a fragile bowl with explosives. “Uh, we’ll get back to you about that.”

Finally, predictably, the word came back, “Disney doesn’t want to do this with Michael Jackson.” I go, “OK, could someone tell him this?” You can hear a pin drop, no response, and nobody did [tell him]. It fell to my late manager, Scott Shukat, to tell Michael or Michael’s attorney.

In retrospect, it was the right decision. [But] Quasimodo is a character…if you look at his relationships with his family and his father, I would think there’s a lot of identification there.

“They’re Never Going to Do This Kind of Character Again”

The film is known for the way it grapples with the hypocrisy and lust typified by the villainous Judge Frollo, whose terrifying song “Hellfire” remains a high point of Disney animation.

Gary Trousdale: Somebody asked me recently: “How the hell did you get ‘Hellfire’ past Disney?” It’s a good question.

Alan Menken: When Stephen and I wrote “Hellfire,” I was so excited by what we accomplished. It really raised the bar for Disney animation. It raised the bar for Stephen’s and my collaboration.

Stephen Schwartz: I thought the would never let me get away with [“Hellfire”]. And they never asked for a single change.

Alan Menken: Lust and religious conflict. Now more than ever, these are very thorny issues to put in front of the Disney audience. We wanted to go at it as truthfully as possible.

Stephen Schwartz: When Alan and I tackled “Hellfire,” I did what I usually did: write what I thought it should be and assume that [Disney would] tell me what I couldn’t get away with. But they accepted exactly what we wrote.

Don Hahn: Every good song score needs a villain’s moment. Stephen and Alan approached it with “Hellfire.”

Alan Menken: It was very clear, we’d thrown the gauntlet pretty far. It was also clear within our creative team that everybody was excited about going there.

Don Hahn: You use all the tools in your toolkit, and one of the most powerful ones was Alan and Stephen. Stephen can be dark, but he’s also very funny. He’s brilliant.

Gary Trousdale: The [MPAA] said, “When Frollo says ‘This burning desire is turning me to sin,’ we don’t like the word ‘sin.’” We can’t change the lyrics now. It’s all recorded. Kinda tough. “What if we just dip the volume of the word ‘sin’ and increase the sound effects?” They said, “Good.”

Stephen Schwartz: It’s one of the most admirable things [laughs] I have ever seen Disney Animation do. It was very supportive and adventurous, which is a spirit that…let’s just say, I don’t think [the company would] make this movie today.

Don Hahn: It’s funny. Violence is far more accepted than sex in a family movie. You can go see a Star Wars movie and the body count’s pretty huge, but there’s rarely any sexual innuendo.

Kathy Zielinski: I got to watch [Tony Jay] record “Hellfire” with another actor. I was sweating watching him record, because it was unbelievably intense. Afterwards, he asked me, “Did you learn anything from my performance?” I said, “Yeah, I never want to be a singer.” [laughing]

Paul Kandel: Tony Jay knocked that out of the park. He [was] an incredible guy. Very sweet. He was terrified to record “Hellfire.” He was at a couple of my sessions. He went, “Oh my God, what’s going to happen when it’s my turn? I don’t sing. I’m not a singer. I never pretended to be a singer.” I said, “Look, I’m not a singer. I’m an actor who figured out that they could hold a tune.”

Kathy Zielinski: I listened to Tony sing “Hellfire” tons. I knew I had gone too far when, one morning, we were sitting at the breakfast table and my daughter, who was two or three at the time, started singing the song and doing the mannerisms. [laughs]

Don Hahn: We didn’t literally want to show [Frollo’s lust]. It turns into a Fantasia sequence, almost. A lot of the imagery is something you could see coming out of Frollo’s imagination. It’s very impressionistic. It does stretch the boundaries of what had been done before at Disney.

Kirk Wise: We stylized it like “Night on Bald Mountain.” The best of Walt’s films balanced very dark and light elements. Instead of making it explicit, we tried to make it more visual and use symbolic imagery.

Gaëtan Brizzi: We were totally free. We could show symbolically how sick Frollo is between his hate and his carnal desire.

Kathy Zielinski: The storyboards had a tremendous influence. Everybody was incredibly admiring of the work that [Paul and Gaëtan] had done.

Don Hahn: They brought the storyboarded sequence to life in a way that is exactly what the movie looks like. The strength of it is that we didn’t have to show anything as much as we did suggest things to the audience. Give the audience credit for filling in the blanks.

Gary Trousdale: It was absolutely gorgeous. Their draftsmanship and their cinematography. They are the top. They pitched it with a cassette recording of Stephen singing “Hellfire”, and we were all in the story room watching it, going “Oh shit!”

Paul Brizzi: When Frollo is at the fireplace with Esmeralda’s scarf, his face is hypnotized. From the smoke, there’s the silhouette of Esmeralda coming to him. She’s naked in our drawings.

Gary Trousdale: We joked, maybe because they’re French, Esmeralda was in the nude when she was in the fire. Roy Disney put his foot down and said, “That’s not going to happen.” Chris Jenkins, the head of effects, and I went over every drawing to make sure she was appropriately attired. That was the one concession we made to the studio.

Gaëtan Brizzi: It’s the role of storyboard artists to go far, and then you scale it down. Her body was meant to be suggestive. It was more poetic than provocative.

Brenda Chapman: I thought what the Brizzis did with “Hellfire” was just stunning.

Roy Conli: We make films for people from four to 104, and we’re trying to ensure that the thematic material engages adults and engages children. We had a lot of conversations on “Hellfire,” [which] was groundbreaking. You saw the torment, but you didn’t necessarily, if you were a kid, read it as sexual. And if you were an adult, you picked it up pretty well.

Will Finn: “Hellfire” was uncomfortable to watch with a family audience. I’m not a prude, but what are small kids to make of such a scene?

Kathy Zielinski: When I was working on “Hellfire,” I thought, “Wow. They’re never going to do this kind of character again.” And I’m pretty much right.

“Straight for the Heart”

“Hellfire” may be the apex of the maturity of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, but the entire film is the most complex and adult Disney animated feature of the modern era.

Gary Trousdale: We went straight for the heart and then pulled back.

Kirk Wise: I was comfortable with moments of broad comedy contrasted with moments that were dark or scary or violent. All of the Disney movies did that, particularly in Walt’s time.

Don Hahn: A lot of it is gut level, where [the story group would] sit around and talk to ourselves and pitch it to executives. But Walt Disney’s original animated films were really dark. We wanted to create something that had the impact of what animation can do.

Will Finn: Eisner insisted we follow the book to the letter, but he said the villain could not be a priest, and we had to have a happy ending. The book is an epic tragedy – everybody dies!

Kathy Zielinski: It’s a little scary that I felt comfortable with [Frollo]. [laughing] I don’t know what that means. Maybe I need to go to therapy. I’ve always had a desire to do villains. I just love evil.

Don Hahn: Kathy Zielinski is brilliant. She works on The Simpsons now, which is hilarious. She’s very intense, very aware of what [Frollo] had to do.

One specific choice in the relationship between Frollo and Esmeralda caused problems.

Stephen Schwartz: I remember there was great controversy over Frollo sniffing Esmeralda’s hair.

Kirk Wise: The scene that caused the most consternation was in the cathedral where Frollo grabs Esmeralda, whispers in her ear and sniffs her hair. The sniffing made people ask, “Is this too far?” We got a lot of support from Peter Schneider, Tom Schumacher, and Michael Eisner.

Kathy Zielinski: Brenda Chapman came up with that idea and the storyboard. I animated it. It’s interesting, because two females were responsible for that. That scene was problematic, so they had to cut it down. It used to be a lot longer.

Brenda Chapman: I know I’m probably pushing it too far, but let’s give it a go, you know?

Kirk Wise: We agreed it was going to be a matter of execution and our collective gut would tell us whether we were crossing the line. We learned that the difference between a G and PG is the loudness of a sniff. Ultimately, that’s what it came down to.

Brenda Chapman: I never knew that! [laughing]

Don Hahn: Is it rated G? That’s surprising.

Gary Trousdale: I’m sure there was backroom bargaining done that Kirk and I didn’t know about.

Don Hahn: It’s negotiation. The same was true of The Lion King. We had intensity notes on the fight at the end. You either say, we’re going to live with that and it’s PG, or we’re not and it’s G.

Brenda Chapman: I heard stories of little kids going, “Ewww, he’s rubbing his boogers in her hair!” [laughing] If that’s what they want to think, that’s fine. But there are plenty of adults that went, “Whoa!”

Don Hahn: You make the movies for yourselves, [but] we all have families, and you try to make something that’s appropriate for that audience. So we made some changes. Frollo isn’t a member of the clergy to take out any politicizing.

Gaëtan Brizzi: We developed the idea of Frollo’s racism against the gypsies. To feel that he desires Esmeralda and he wants to kill her. It was ambiguity that was interesting to develop. In the storyboards, Paul made [Frollo] handsome with a big jaw, a guy with class. They said he was too handsome. We had to break that formula.

Stephen Schwartz: I [and others] said, “It doesn’t make any sense for him to not be the Archdeacon, because what’s he doing with Quasimodo? What possible relationship could they have?” Which is what led to the backstory that became “The Bells of Notre Dame.”

Don Hahn: The things Frollo represents are alive and well in the world. Bigotry and prejudice are human traits and always have been. One of his traits was lust. How do you portray that in a Disney movie? We tried to portray that in a way that might be over kids’ heads and may not give them nightmares necessarily, but it’s not going to pull its punches. So it was a fine line.

Stephen Schwartz: Hugo’s novel is not critical of the church the way a lot of French literature is. It creates this character of Frollo, who’s a deeply hypocritical person and tormented by his hypocrisy.

Peter Schneider: I am going to be controversial. I think it failed. The fundamental basis is problematic, if you’re going to try and do a Disney movie. In [light of] the #MeToo movement, you couldn’t still do the movie and try what we tried to do. As much as we tried to soften it, you couldn’t get away from the fundamental darkness.

Don Hahn: Yeah, that sounds like Peter. He’s always the contrarian.

Peter Schneider: I’m not sure we should have made the movie, in retrospect. I mean, it did well, Kirk and Gary did a beautiful job. The voices are beautiful. The songs are lovely, but I’m not sure we should have made the movie.

Gaëtan Brizzi: The hardest part was to stick to the commercial side of the movie…to make sure we were still addressing kids.

Kirk Wise: We knew it was going to be a challenge to honor the source material while delivering a movie that would fit comfortably on the shelf with the other Disney musicals. We embraced it.

Roy Conli: I don’t think it was too mature. I do find it at times slightly provocative, but not in a judgmental or negative way. I stand by the film 100 percent in sending a message of hope.

Peter Schneider: It never settled its tone. If you look at the gargoyles and bringing in Jason Alexander to try and give comedy to this rather bleak story of a judge keeping a deformed young man in the tower…there’s so many icky factors for a Disney movie.

Jason Alexander: Some children might be frightened by Quasi’s look or not be able to understand the complexity. But what we see is an honest, innocent and capable underdog confront his obstacles and naysayers and emerge triumphant, seen and accepted. I think young people rally to those stories. They can handle the fearsome and celebrate the good.

Brenda Chapman: There was a scene where Frollo was locking Quasimodo in the tower, and Quasi was quite upset. I had to pull back from how cruel Frollo was in that moment, if I’m remembering correctly. I wanted to make him a very human monster, which can be scarier than a real monster.

Roy Conli: We walked such a tight line and we were on the edge and the fact that Disney allowed us to be on the edge was a huge tribute to them.

“Hear the Voice”

The story was set, the songs were ready. All that was left was getting a cast together to bring the characters’ voices to life.

Jason Alexander: Disney, Alan Menken, Stephen Schwartz, Victor Hugo – you had me at hello.

Paul Kandel: I was in Tommy, on Broadway. I was also a Tony nominee. So I had those prerequisites. Then I got a call from my agent that Jeffrey Katzenberg decided he wanted a star. I was out of a job I already had. I said, “I want to go back in and audition again.” I wanted to let them choose between me and whoever had a name that would help sell the film. So that series of auditions went on and I got the job back.

Kirk Wise: Everybody auditioned, with the exception of Kevin Kline and Demi Moore. We went to them with an offer. But we had a few people come in for Quasimodo, including Meat Loaf.

Will Finn: Katzenberg saw Meat Loaf and Cher playing Quasimodo and Esmeralda – more of a rock opera. He also wanted Leno, Letterman, and Arsenio as the gargoyles at one point.

Kirk Wise: Meat Loaf sat with Alan and rehearsed the song. It was very different than what we ended up with, because Meat Loaf has a very distinct sound. Ultimately, I think his record company and Disney couldn’t play nice together, and the deal fell apart.

Gary Trousdale: We all had the drawings of the characters we were currently casting for in front of us. Instead of watching the actor, we’d be looking down at the piece of paper, trying to hear that voice come out of the drawing. And it was, we learned, a little disconcerting for some of the actors and actresses, who would put on hair and makeup and clothes and they’ve got their body language and expressions. We just want to hear the voice.

Kirk Wise: We cast Cyndi Lauper as one of the gargoyles. We thought she was hilarious and sweet. The little fat obnoxious gargoyle had a different name, and was going to be played by Sam McMurray. We had Cyndi and Sam record, and Roy Disney hated it. The quality of Cyndi’s voice and Sam’s voice were extremely grating to his ear. This is no disrespect to them – Cyndi Lauper is amazing. And Sam McMurray is very funny. But it was not working for the people in the room on that day.

Jason Alexander: The authors cast you for a reason – they think they’ve heard a voice in you that fits their character. I always try to look at the image of the character – his shape, his size, his energy and start to allow sounds, pitches, vocal tics to emerge. Then everyone kicks that around, nudging here, tweaking there and within a few minutes you have the approach to the vocalization. It’s not usually a long process, but it is fun.

Kirk Wise: We decided to reconceive the gargoyles. We always knew we wanted three of them. We wanted a Laurel and Hardy pair. The third gargoyle, the female gargoyle, was up in the air. I think it was Will Finn who said, “Why don’t we make her older?” As the wisdom-keeper. That led us to Mary Wickes, who was absolutely terrific. We thoroughly enjoyed working with Mary, and 98% of the dialogue is her. But she sadly passed away before we were finished.

Will Finn: We brought in a ton of voice-over actresses and none sounded like Mary. One night, I woke up thinking about Jane Withers, who had been a character actress in the golden age of Hollywood. She had a similar twang in her voice, and very luckily, she was alive and well.

Kirk Wise: Our first session with Kevin Kline went OK, but something was missing. It just didn’t feel like there was enough of a twinkle in his voice. Roy Conli said, “Guys, he’s an actor. Give him a prop.” For the next session, the supervising animator for Phoebus brought in a medieval broadsword. Before the session started, we said “Kevin, we’ve got a present for you.” We brought out this sword, and he lit up like a kid at Christmas. He would gesture with it and lean on it. Roy found the key there.

Gary Trousdale: Kevin Kline is naturally funny, so we may have [written] some funnier lines for him. When he’s sparring with Esmeralda in the cathedral and he gets hit by the goat. “I didn’t know you had a kid,” which is the worst line ever. But he pulls it off. He had good comic timing.

Kirk Wise: Tom Hulce had a terrific body of work, including Amadeus. But the performance that stuck with me was in Dominic and Eugene. There was a sensitivity and emotional reality to that performance that made us lean in and think he might make a good Quasimodo.

Gary Trousdale: [His voice] had a nice mix of youthful and adult. He had a maturity, but he had an innocence as well. We’re picturing Quasimodo as a guy who’s basically an innocent. It was a quality of his voice that we could hear.

Don Hahn: He’s one of those actors who could perform and act while he sang. Solo songs, especially for Quasimodo, are monologues set to music. So you’re looking for someone who can portray all the emotion of the scene. It’s about performance and storytelling, and creating a character while you’re singing. That’s why Tom rose to the top.

Stephen Schwartz: I thought Tom did great. I had known Tom a little bit beforehand, as an actor in New York. I’d seen him do Equus and I was sort of surprised. I just knew him as an actor in straight plays. I didn’t know that he sang at all, and then it turned out that he really sang.

Paul Kandel: [Tom] didn’t think of himself as a singer. He’s an actor who can sing. “Out There,” his big number – whether he’s going to admit it to you or not – that was scary for him. But a beautiful job.

Brenda Chapman: Quasimodo was the key to make it family-friendly. Tom Hulce did such a great job making him appealing.

Kirk Wise: Gary came back with the audiotape of Tom’s first session. And his first appearance with the little bird, where he asks if the bird is ready to fly…that whole scene was his rehearsal tape. His instincts were so good. He just nailed it. I think he was surprised that we went with that take. It was the least overworked and the most spontaneous, and felt emotionally real to us.

Kathy Zielinski: Early on, they wanted Anthony Hopkins to do the voice [of Frollo]. [We] did an animation test with a line of his from Silence of the Lambs.

Kirk Wise: We were thinking of Hannibal Lecter in the earliest iterations of Frollo. They made an offer, but Hopkins passed. We came full circle to Tony, because it had been such a good experience working with him on Beauty and the Beast. It was the combination of the quality of his voice, the familiarity of working with him, and knowing how professional and sharp he was.

Though the role of Quasimodo went to Tom Hulce (who did not respond to multiple requests for comment), there was one audition those involved haven’t forgotten.

Kirk Wise: We had a few people come in for Quasimodo, including Mandy Patinkin.

Stephen Schwartz: That was a difficult day. [laughing]

Kirk Wise: Mandy informed Alan and Stephen that he brought his own accompanist, which was unexpected because we had one in the room. He had taken a few liberties with [“Out There”]. He had done a little rearranging. You could see Alan’s and Stephen’s spines stiffen. It was not the feel that Alan and Stephen were going for. Stephen pretty much said so in the room. I think his words were a little sharper and more pointed than mine.

Stephen Schwartz: I’ve never worked with Mandy Patinkin. But I admired Evita and Sunday in the Park with George. He came in to audition for Quasimodo. When I came in, Ben Vereen was sitting in the hallway. Ben is a friend of mine and kind of a giant star. I felt we should be polite in terms of bringing him in relatively close to the time for which he was called.

Mandy took a long time with his audition, and asked to do it over and over again. If you’re Mandy Patinkin, you should have enough time scheduled to feel you were able to show what you wanted to show. However, that amount of time was not scheduled. At a certain point, I became a bit agitated because I knew Ben was sitting there, cooling his heels. I remember asking [to] move along or something. That created a huge contretemps.

Kirk Wise: Gary and I stepped outside to work on a dialogue scene with Mandy. As we were explaining the scene and our take on the character, Mandy threw up his hands and said, “Guys, I’m really sorry. I can’t do this.” He turned on his heel and went into the rehearsal hall and shut the door. We started hearing an intense argument. He basically went in and read Alan and Stephen the riot act. The door opens, smoke issuing from the crater that he left inside. Mandy storms out, and he’s gone. We step back in the room, asking, “What the hell happened?”

Gary Trousdale: I did a drawing of it afterwards. The Patinkin Incident.

Stephen Schwartz: Battleship Patinkin!

“Join the Party”

The darkness in the film made it difficult to market. Even some involved acknowledged the issue. In the run-up to release, Jason Alexander said to Entertainment Weekly, “Disney would have us believe this movie’s like the Ringling Bros., for children of all ages. But I won’t be taking my 4-year old. I wouldn’t expose him to it, not for another year.”

Alan Menken: There was all the outrage about Jason Alexander referring to it as a dark story that’s not for kids. Probably Disney wasn’t happy he said that.

Jason Alexander: Most Disney animated films are entertaining and engaging for any child with an attention span. All of them have elements that are frightening. But people are abused in Hunchback. These are people, not cute animals. Some children could be overwhelmed by some of it at a very young age. My son at the time could not tolerate any sense of dread in movies so it would have been hard for him. However, that is certainly not all children.

Don Hahn: I don’t think Jason was wrong. People have to decide for themselves. It probably wasn’t a movie for four-year olds. You as a parent know your kid better than I do.

If everyone agrees the score is excellent, they also agree on something that was not.

Alan Menken: God knows we couldn’t control how Disney marketing dealt with the movie, which was a parade with Quasimodo on everybody’s shoulders going, “Join the party.” [laughing]

Roy Conli: I always thought “Animation comes of age” would be a great [tagline]. I think the marketing ended up, “Join the party.”

Brenda Chapman: Marketing had it as this big party. And then you get into the story and there’s all this darkness. I think audiences were not expecting that, if they didn’t know the original story.

Kathy Zielinski: It was a hard movie for Disney to merchandise and sell to the public.

Gaëtan Brizzi: People must have been totally surprised by the dramatic sequences. The advertising was not reflecting what the movie was about.

Stephen Schwartz: To this day, they just don’t know how to market “Disney’s Hunchback of Notre Dame.” I understand what their quandary is. They have developed a brand that says, “If you see the word Disney on something, it means you can take your 6-year old.” You probably shouldn’t even take your 8-year old, unless he or she is very mature, to Hunchback.

Alan Menken: We [Disney] had such a run of successful projects. It was inevitable there was going to be a time where people said, “I’ve seen all those, but what else is out there?” I had that experience sitting at a diner with my family, overhearing a family talk about Hunchback and say, “Oh yeah, we saw Beauty and Aladdin, but this one…let’s see something else.”

Stephen Schwartz: I did have a sense that some in the critical community didn’t know how to reconcile animation and an adult approach. They have the same attitude some critics have about musicals. “It’s fine if it’s tap-dancing and about silly subjects. But if it’s something that has intellectual import, you can’t do that.” Obviously we have Hamilton and Sweeney Todd and Wicked. Over the years, that’s changed to some extent, but not for everybody.

Roy Conli: Every film is not a Lion King. [But] if that story has legs and will touch people, then you’ve succeeded.

Kirk Wise: We were a little disappointed in its initial weekend. It didn’t do as well as we hoped. We were also disappointed in the critical reaction. It was well-reviewed, but more mixed. Roger Ebert loved us. The New York Times hated us! I felt whipsawed. It was the same critic [Janet Maslin] who praised Beauty and the Beast to the high heavens. She utterly shat on Hunchback.

Don Hahn: We had really good previews, but we also knew it was out of the box creatively. We were also worried about the French and we were worried about the handicapped community and those were the two communities that supported the movie the most.

Will Finn: I knew we were in trouble when the first trailers played and audiences laughed at Quasimodo singing “Out There” on the roof.

Kirk Wise: All of us were proud of the movie on an artistic level. In terms of animation and backgrounds and music and the use of the camera and the performances. It’s the entire studio operating at its peak level of performance, as far as I’m concerned.

Gary Trousdale: I didn’t think people were going to have such a negative reaction to the gargoyles. They’re a little silly. And they do undercut the gravity. But speaking with friends who were kids at the time, they have nothing but fond memories. There were adults, high school age and older when they saw it, they were turned off. We thought it was going to do really great. We thought, “We’re topping ourselves.” It’s a sophisticated story and the music is amazing.

Kirk Wise: The 2D animated movies used to be released before Christmas [or] Thanksgiving. The Lion King changed that. Now everything was a summer release. I always questioned the wisdom of releasing Hunchback in the summertime, in competition with other blockbusters.

Paul Kandel: It made $300 million and it cost $80 million to make. So they were not hurting as far as profits were concerned. But I thought it was groundbreaking in so many ways that I was surprised at the mixed reviews.

Kirk Wise: By most measures, it was a hit. I think The Lion King spoiled everybody, because [it] was such a phenomenon, a bolt from the blue, not-to-be-repeated kind of event.

Gary Trousdale: We were getting mixed reviews. Some of them were really good. “This is a stunning masterpiece.” And other people were saying, “This is a travesty.” And the box office was coming in, not as well as hoped.

Don Hahn: I was in Argentina doing South American press. I got a call from Peter Schneider, who said, “It’s performing OK, but it’s probably going to hit 100 million.” Which, for any other moviemaker, would be a goldmine. But we’d been used to huge successes. I was disappointed.

Peter Schneider: I think it was a hit, right? It just wasn’t the same. As they say in the theater, you don’t set out to make a failure.

Don Hahn: If you’re the New York Yankees, and you’ve had a winning season where you could not lose, and then people hit standup singles instead of home runs…that’s OK. But it has this aura of disappointment. That’s the feeling that’s awful to have, because it’s selfish. Animation is an art, and the arts are meant to be without a price tag hanging off of them all the time.

Paul Brizzi: We are still grateful to Kirk and Gary and Don. We worked on [Hunchback] for maybe a year or a year and a half. Every sequence, we did with passion.

Gaëtan Brizzi: Our work on Hunchback was a triumph of our career.

Kathy Zielinski: There are certainly a whole crowd of people who wish we had not [done] the comedy, because that wasn’t faithful. That’s the main complaint I heard – we should’ve gone for this total dramatic piece and not worried about the kiddies.

Gaetan Brizzi: The only concern we had was the lack of homogeneity. The drama was really strong, and the [comedy] was sometimes a little bit goofy. It was a paradox. When you go from “Hellfire” to a big joke, the transition was not working well. Otherwise, we were very proud.

James Baxter: We were happy with what we did, but we understood it was going to be a slightly harder sell. The Hunchback of Notre Dame usually doesn’t engender connotations like, “Oh, that’s going to be a Disney classic.” I was very happy that it did as well as it did.

Jason Alexander: I thought it was even more mature and emotional on screen. It was an exciting maturation of what a Disney animated feature could be. I was impressed and touched.

“An Undersung Hero”

25 years later, The Hunchback of Notre Dame endures. The animated film inspired an even darker stage show that played both domestically and overseas, and in recent years, there have been rumors that Josh Gad would star as Quasimodo in a live-action remake.

Alan Menken: I think it’s a project that with every passing year will more and more become recognized as a really important part of my career.

Stephen Schwartz: This will be immodest, but I think it’s a really fine adaptation. I think it’s the best musical adaptation of the Victor Hugo novel, and there have been a lot. I think the music is just unbelievably good. I think, as a lyricist, I was working at pretty much the top of my form. I have so many people telling me it’s their favorite Disney film.

Alan Menken: During the pandemic, there was this hundred-piece choir doing “The Bells of Notre Dame.” People are picking up on it. It’s the combination of the storytelling and how well the score is constructed that gets it to longevity. If something is good enough, it gets found.

Paul Kandel: I think people were more sensitive. There was an expectation that a new Disney animated film would not push boundaries at all, which it did. For critics, it pushed a little too hard and I don’t think they would think that now. It’s a work of art.

Gaëtan Brizzi: Hunchback is poetic, because of its dark romanticism. We have tons of animated movies, but I think they all look alike because of the computer technique. This movie is very important in making people understand that hate has no place in our society, between a culture or people or a country. That’s the message of the movie, and of Victor Hugo himself.

Jason Alexander: I think it’s an undersung hero. It’s one of the most beautiful and moving animated films. But it is not the title that lives on everyone’s tongue. I think more people haven’t seen this one than any of the others. I adore it.

Peter Schneider: What Disney did around this period [is] we stopped making musicals. I think that was probably a mistake on some level, but the animators were bored with it.

Don Hahn: You know people reacted to Beauty and the Beast or The Lion King. They were successful movies in their day. You don’t know the reaction to anything else. So when [I] go to Comic-Con or do press on other movies, people started talking about Hunchback. “My favorite Alan Menken score is Hunchback.” It’s always surprising and delightful.

Kirk Wise: I’ve had so many people come up to me and say, “This is my absolute favorite movie. I adored this movie as a kid. I wore out my VHS.” That makes all the difference in the world.

Paul Kandel: Sitting on my desk right now are four long letters and requests for autographs. I get 20 of those a week. People are still seeing that film and being moved by it.

Alan Menken: Now there’s a discussion about a live-action film with Hunchback. And that’s [sighs] exciting and problematic. We have to, once again, wade into the troubled waters of “What is Disney’s movie version of Hunchback?” Especially now.

Jason Alexander: Live action could work because the vast majority of characters are human. The story of an actual human who is in some ways less abled and who is defined by how he looks, rather than his heart and character, is timely and important, to say the least.

Kirk Wise: I imagine if there were a live-action adaptation, it would skew more towards the stage version. That’s just my guess.

Stephen Schwartz: I think it would lend itself extremely well to a live-action movie, particularly if they use the stage show as the basis. I think the stage show is fantastic.

Kirk Wise: It’s gratifying to be involved in movies like Beauty and the Beast and Hunchback that have created so much affection. But animation is as legitimate a form of storytelling as live-action is. It might be different, but I don’t think it’s better. I feel like [saying], “Just put on the old one. It’s still good!”

Gary Trousdale: There were enough versions before. Somebody wants to make another version? Okay. Most people can tell the difference between the animated version and a live-action reboot. Mostly I’m not a fan of those. But if that’s what Disney wants to do, great.

Don Hahn: It’s very visual. It’s got huge potential because of its setting and the drama, and the music. It’s pretty powerful, so it makes sense to remake that movie. I think we will someday.

Brenda Chapman: It’s a history lesson. Now that Notre Dame is in such dire straits, after having burned so badly, hopefully [this] will increase interest in all that history.

James Baxter: It meant two children. I met my wife on that movie. [laughs] In a wider sense, the legacy is another step of broadening the scope of what Disney feature animation could be.

Kirk Wise: Hunchback is the movie where the final product turned out closest to the original vision. There was such terrific passion by the crew that carried throughout the process.

Roy Conli: It’s one of the most beautiful films we’ve made. 25 years later, I’d say “Join the party.” [laughs]

#long post behind read more #the hunchback of notre dame #hunchback of notre dame #notre dame de paris #victor hugo #interviews #disney #alan menken #stephen schwartz #quasimodo #esmeralda #frollo #phoebus #movies #movie history

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clefairymuke · 3 years

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daydream | chapter one

next chapter

pairing: armin arlert x reader

themes: college/modern au, slowburn, friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, smut

tw: recreational drug use, drinking, explicit sexual content

word count: 1705

The clock was obnoxiously loud with its endless ticking as you struggled to answer yet another dreaded short response prompt, your eyes threatening to trail over to the paper next to yours. You cursed your professor in your head, wondering who had the audacity to dub them "short answer" when answering every nit-picking facet of the question required at least a page-long essay to respond to the prompt in its entirety. The pen would soon break through the paper with how aggressively you were pushing it down. Against your better judgement, you allowed yourself to glance at your friend's paper. All you were able to read was the scrawled cursive "Armin Arlert" at the top before it was pulled from the table and started its journey to the professor's desk. Armin shot you a side eye as he threw his bag over his shoulder, and you returned a feigned apologetic grin. You watched as he waltzed confidently to the front of the room. Everything was so easy for him.

You sighed as he laid his paper on Professor Hange's desk and left. You knew he'd be outside waiting on the bench by the sidewalk when you finally finished; it was looking like he would be there for at least an hour. You tried to focus. What exactly had you learned so far in Biology 220? As far as you knew, the answer was absolutely nothing. After another while of pretending to think while actually berating yourself internally for your lack of studying, you did what you do best: you wrote down 200 words of absolute bullshit and hoped for a passing grade. It had put you through a year and a half of school -- you hoped it wouldn't fail you now.

It made sense for Armin to do well. After all, he was a biology major on the premed track. You, on the other hand, chose English on the form last minute in order to take the least amount of science and math possible. Learning that general education required sequences instead of singular courses had smacked you in the mouth. You erased the last word and fixed your handwriting three times before you finally decided you were finished, taking the paper up front to join Armin's and relishing in the sunlight hitting your face as you left the building.

"How'd you do?" Armin asked sweetly, perched on the nearest of many walkway-side benches along the campus. You saw a coffee in his hand. As you got closer, you noticed one for you sitting next to him. You smiled.

"I honestly think I did fucking awful. I haven't retained anything from Hange's class at all. She's not even a bad teacher -- I think it just isn't for me," you answered, taking a seat and lifting the coffee to your lips. It was your favorite.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his head. He'd had a haircut only the day before; he always toyed with the prickly hair on the back of his neck for the first few days after one. You wondered if he'd ever get used to having his hair shorter. "I've offered to help you, you know. I always say I'll start studying with you, and you always say we will. Then I end up studying while you lay there on your phone halfway listening."

"Well, midterms are over now. Maybe I'll let you teach me a thing or two before finals. What's important is that spring break starts now." For a moment you could see yourself and Armin laid out on the beach, sun soaking into your skin with the soft crashing of waves present only a few yards away; that was the definition of heaven. You saw Armin grin as he started to pull his bag over his shoulder in preparation for your walk to his dorm. A common misconception about your friend was that he was a stick in the mud; however, this was decidedly the furthest thing from the truth. Although he was perfect academically -- 4.0 GPA, active in student organizations, one of the way-too-happy people that shows the freshmen around campus each year -- he knew how to have a good time. Perhaps it was years of corruption from you and your other friends (Eren and Jean, in particular), but outside of a god-awful science class, he was easily your favorite person to be around.

The two of you walked side by side across campus, chatting idly about the party you both planned to attend that night and the long drive that awaited you come morning. It was the perfect weather out, a sunny and comfortable 70 degrees. Armin was dressed in an old-looking T-shirt advertising some bedroom pop artist you were unfamiliar with, making it more than noticeable how much he had filled out since he bought it. Khaki shorts hung a few inches above his knees. You had to look up at him when you spoke, quite the contrast to the many years your friendship spanned before. His eyes, though, were still the same blue, and that was unlikely to change.

When you arrived at his building, you trudged up the stairs behind him, grateful you would soon be able to sit down. Walking everywhere was not your favorite activity, but the campus was quite small, and driving would be overkill. You waltzed into the room as you did nearly every day, throwing a hand up to greet Eren. He had his arm thrown lazily around a girl you didn't recognize, his half-up half-down hair falling in his face as he nodded back at you with a smile, eyes half-open and glossy red.

You practically threw yourself into Armin's bed, which was neatly made aside from the plush blue blanket that laid across the yellow duvet. You were quickly underneath it, making short work toward comfort as you nuzzled into a pillow. Armin took the time to put his things away and change into loose-fitting charcoal sweatpants before taking a seat at your side, fiddling with a time-passing puzzle game on his phone.

"I think we should just stay in instead of going to the party and taking that trip. I'm pretty comfortable, and I have plenty of sleep to catch up on," you told him, the joke barely present in your voice. He chuckled, leaning back across your legs onto the wall behind him.

"You're required to come to the party," Eren called over to you, taking his lips away from the nameless girl's neck. "We promised Jean. And you're required to come on the trip, because we can't afford the Airbnb without your charitable contribution."

"Besides," Armin chimed in, looking over at you, "you were lucky your request off got approved. Think of the poor souls that are stuck behind the register at Barnes and Noble this week. They wouldn't want you to use their vacation in vain."

"When you put it that way. . ." you laughed, checking the time on your phone. "What time did Jean tell us to come?"

"Nine," Armin responded quickly, switching from his game to Twitter. It was only 4:06, according to the white numbers above the picture of you and Armin at your high school graduation. You had quite a bit of time to kill.

"Want to watch a movie?" you asked the blond boy at your side. You were already holding the Xbox controller before he could reply. You got on Disney+, arguably your favorite part of being in Armin's dorm, then tossed the controller toward him to choose. He chose, as he always did, some superhero movie that you would pretend to hate and secretly love. He looked over at you and grinned wide, pressing play.

As the opening sequence rolled, you figured it wasn't the worst way to waste time.

---

The party was lame in the best way. Of course, no one outside of the typical circle had shown -- Connie and Sasha, Marco, the current girl hanging from Eren's hip (Ellie, maybe?), Ymir and Historia, and Eren's sister, Mikasa. Or, at least, he called her his sister. She was adopted -- and desperately in love with him -- and you wished he would avoid calling her that for the sake of saving face. Watching her sit angrily next to him while he toyed with the girl's hair was almost as awkward as the way Jean sat next to Mikasa, beer in his hand and flirting without shame. Connie, Sasha, and Ymir spent nearly the entire party trying to convince Historia and Marco to try smoking on Connie's new bong. Between all of these preoccupied people, you and Armin were left sharing a recliner, passing a blunt back and forth and discussing the plans for tomorrow.

Jean's apartment was trashed in the way a 19-year-old boy's would typically be, soda and beer cans lining the tables and clearly visible dust on his furniture. If you squinted, you'd see he was using his U.S. History textbook as a rolling tray. Professor Erwin would be disappointed.

Your thoughts had begun to become fuzzier and fuzzier. You could tell Armin was feeling the same by the way he giggled uncontrollably at a stupid joke Connie made across the room, causing you to chuckle. He was pretty when he laughed, white teeth poking past his lips as his clear blue eyes squinted into almost nothing. It didn't help that they were already half-closed, pink and red lining his blue irises. You and Armin were social smokers, and drinkers, and what came with that was the unfortunate fact that you were both very lightweight.

You listened absentmindedly to the soft R&B Jean was playing, obnoxiously enough, from Pandora on his TV. Every time an ad played, you died a little inside. You found yourself thanking those that didn't come tonight. Eventually, when you were all in some way intoxicated, you all gathered to watch a movie. You had never heard of it, but Jean and Eren were big fans, which meant it was likely some action film with a bit of plot if you squinted at it.

Before the title screen, you had your head laid on Armin's shoulder, gently drifting to sleep.

This was peace.

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casnextdoor · 3 years

Text

PAPER HEART

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a/n; i wrote this solely because i have fallen in love with jk’s cover of tori kelly’s paper hearts . i bawled my eyes out to it while reading ‘under the sky in room 553 i discovered you and i’ it was VERY ANGSTY and i was sad . 10/10 def recommend. anywho enjoy

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The lights around the stage were bright, blinding. The fans were loud, a consistent chant of Jungkook’s stage name the only thing being heard in the stadium. Even after two months of seeing and hearing this night after night, he still couldn’t believe this was all for him. It was always at the end of his set, when he’d sit on the wooden stool in the dead centre of the stage, that he’d hear your voice. He’d hear you telling him he deserved this and more. You were supposed to be here.

He waited for the stadium to quiet, and just like every night prior, the fans' loud roar turned into ambient muttering. So with a heavy heart, he deposited a guitar pick from his pocket and started experimentally picking and strumming at the acoustic guitar that sat comfortably on his thighs. He knew the cords like the back of his hand -- having played it for you more times than he could count -- so he found his rhythm with ease.

It felt like just yesterday when you’d sat with him in his studio, helping him create the song that would break his heart every time he played it.

Your smile. That's what really caught his attention that day. Everyday since the two of you had met, he’d picked another physical feature of yours to obsess over every time he’d see you. Your perfect set of pearly whites with a little bit of an overbite had his heart beating recklessly against his ribcage today. The septum piercing hanging right above your cupid's-bow fell over your lips when they’d pulled up into that signature grin of yours. He’d die happy if it were the last thing he’d ever seen, he’d decided.

You’re guitar -- the black one he’d gifted you sophomore year as an early birthday gift -- hung loosely over your shoulder in its case. It made him smile that you’d kept after so long -- that you’d kept him around for so long.

“Okay, Noona. Why are we here?” Jungkook wouldn’t lie, he had never gotten dressed as quickly as he had when he’d received a text from you telling him to meet you at his studio. He almost ran out of the dorms with no shoes on -- he hadn’t seen you in weeks.

“Remember when you told me you couldn’t write? When you said you couldn’t find lyrics to go to the guitar piece you composed?” You’d excitedly plopped down on the black leather couch on the other side of his studio; you’d picked that couch.

Jungkook hummed, eyeing you skeptically. He didn’t know where this was going. Looking back now, he should’ve had a clue; this was such a you thing to do, after all. But at the time, he had no idea where this conversation or impromptu meet up was headed.

“Well, fret no longer, my friend. I spent all night writing you lyrics.” Your smile was so big and your hands were a bit fidget-y as you unzipped your guitar case; a tell-tale sign that you had been drinking coffee again. It was painfully endearing that you’d stayed up all night just writing him lyrics. And he found it absolutely adorable that instead of waiting until the morning to call him, you’d texted him at two in the morning, demanding that he meet you. He had to purse his lips to refrain from smiling too hard.

“You do realize it's almost three in the morning, right, Flower?” Jungkook’s amused chuckle caused an embarrassing amount of heat to course through your body. You nodded sheepishly, hands gripping nervously at the neck of your guitar. You’d pray he couldn’t see how nervous you were so you instead pulled your lips up into a scowl and huffed out an annoyed breath.

“Do you wanna hear ‘em or not?” There was no real edge to your voice, and Jungkook knew you’d just been looking for a way to channel your nerves into something less embarrassing than a nervous chuckle.

He nodded, leaning back into his rolling office chair and had he always been so big? His gaze never left you and you could almost feel the weight of his eyes on you. You’d avert your gaze away from him and down toward the strings of your guitar, in fear that if you look at him, he’d hear the loud love confessions your brain was screaming at him. You grumbled at him to record a voice memo -- you were not going to give him your lyric book.

You’d picked and strummed at the guitar until you’d found and stayed with the melody you were looking for. You played the sequence for a bit longer just to make sure you wouldn’t mess up. You figured you were ready after about thirty seconds of just blue music. So you cleared your voice and started singing.

Remember the way you made me feel, such young love but,

Jungkook realized that no matter what you’d written, he would’ve loved it anyway -- it was you, after all.

Something in me knew that it was real. Frozen in my head.

Pictures I’m living through for now

Trying to remember all the good times

He could listen to you for hours. There was something so serene, he thought, about listening to the love of your life sing a song they’d written just for you.

Our life was cutting through so loud. Memories are playing in my dull mind.

Has his gaze always been this heavy? Has your heart always beat this fast for him? Have you always wanted someone to love you back this much? No, you supposed you hadn’t. But there’s a first for everything.

I hate this part, paper hearts. And I’ll hold a piece of yours.

Don’t think I would just forget about it.

Hoping that you won’t forget about it.

That was four years ago. Four years ago. He remembered staring at you while you sang the entire song. He remembered just watching you in silence for five minutes. He remembered the way you bit down at your lip and avoided his gaze like the black plague. He remembered leaning forward and pulling your lip from under your teeth. He remembered the way he brushed his nose against yours and telling you -- his flower -- how much he loved it, the song. He remembered kissing you and taking you right there in the studio. He remembered just how gorgeous you were in such a euphoric state. He remembered he told you he loved you more times than he could count that night.

And he remembered the chaos that ensued after, leading you to giving him full custody and access to the song and moving out of the city. Just to get away from him.

He hadn’t sung the song or even recorded it since. He listened to the voice memo with the song and your beautiful euphoric sounds on it every night for two months. He’d cried to that memo. He’d gotten off to that memo. And soon he had to move it to the archives; he wouldn’t allow himself to break anymore.

A part of moving on is making amends. He was in your town because of touring. And before he knew what he was doing, he was adding the song to the performance sequence and shooting you a text.

I’m in your city. For a tour of course. And I’m singing paper hearts for the first time tonight. And I want you to sing it with me. If your email is the same I’ll send you a guest pass. You don’t have to come, but… I would love it if you did :)

You’d left him on delivered. You hadn’t even opened the message. He sent the pass anyway, hoping to the heavens that you would receive it.

He strummed at the guitar strings, trying to keep his eyes from scanning the crowd for you. But when he started singing he couldn’t help but look for those gorgeous eyes and that bright smile he hadn’t seen in four years.

Everything is gray under these skies, wet mascara

Hiding every cloud under a smile, when there’s cameras

And I just can’t reach out to tell you

That I always wonder what you’re up to

That isn’t my voice, he thought, eyebrows creasing in confusion as he looked toward the stage manager who was normally off on the right wing.

And there you were. You were still as beautiful as he remembered. Just as breathtaking as he remembered.

You walked toward him, steps slow and calculated as you stopped just behind him, placing a soft hand onto his shoulder and pressing your front to his back.

Your hand slid down his chest as you used his physical form to ground you and keep you level headed; he was just as good looking as he was all those years ago and you couldn’t help but replay that night in the studio as you reached the next verse.

Pictures I’m living through for now, Trying to remember all the good times

Our life was cutting through, Memories are playing in my dull mind

I hate this part, paper hearts. And I’ll hold a piece of yours

Don’t think I would just forget about it. Hoping that you won’t forget about it.

Jungkook stopped singing completely -- he loved it when you sang this part.

I live through pictures as if I was right there by your side

But you’ll be good without me and if I could just give you some time I’ll be alright.

And then there was nothing. No screaming fans, no guitar, no singing. It was just you. And him. In the middle of this big sea called the universe. Because you’d come back to him. You’d found your way back to him and he decided right then he wouldn’t let you go.

So with the hand that was just gripping the neck of the guitar, he was lightly gripping the back of your neck, pulling you down firmly. He brushed his nose against yours before whispering:

“It's beautiful, Flower. Where’d you learn to sing like that?” You laughed at that.

“I learned from the best, Kookie.” And then his lips were on yours and the entire world really disappeared.

#bts #jungkook angst #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook x female reader #jungkook x reader

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mattzerella-sticks · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on "Carry On" after I've mulled it over:

Now that I've had time to sit on it, I can be a little more precise on my thoughts of this finale:

- Dean's 'ending': Taken out by a rusty nail... I hate it. Then I heard some opinions - without Chuck there were no magic fixes, and this was bound to happen if they continued hunting because of that. It was a human, ordinary, accidental death meaning the Winchesters are just ordinary. Still, being taken out by a nail or rebarb or whatever wasn't a satisfying death for Dean Winchester. Added to the fact he most certainly wanted to live (Miracle, job application, etc.) And he didn't want to hunt anymore either! He wasn't looking for hunts (like Sam was). They stumbled onto that hunt by accident.

From a writer's point of view, I can say now it makes sense with the plot of the episode (only). Dean's death was a catalyst - to give Sam 'freedom' and to show us, the audience, what Heaven was like now that Jack is God. His own sort of 'freedom', I guess.

Unfortunately the plot of the episode still sucked. Just because it makes sense 'story wise' (and I say that very loosely because Dean didn't even get his loose ends tied up nicely). A death during a hunt was something Dean figured would happen in his youth, and he didn't care because he practically was a ghost without many physical attachments. Now he has so many they decide to take him away and for what purpose? It is the last episode. A series finale should only hurt in saying goodbye to the characters, but not like this.

And a goodbye like this, for a character who has had suicidal tendencies and from the looks of it was moving past that, who never really thought about his wants until this moment, and who was on the cusp of being textually confirmed queer (which would have been monumental just saying), it felt like we as fans were stabbed by the rebarb. Which goes to show how much we love the character, one thing. And I think that's why they knew it would hurt. However, they were so wrapped up in this 'shock' they didn't think about any of the consequences listed above as to why this would hurt not only us but their legacy. They figured it'd be a bookend, only for a book whose story ended a decade ago.

- Cas: A one-sentence reference sucks. That's just it.

Fanfiction was mostly built around Cas, too, and I had a feeling they wouldn't show his rescue because leaving that to us would be a good gift. "Here, Cas is alive and human but we won't tell you how - our last fanfiction gap". But Cas's absence wasn't a fanfiction gap, it's a canyon. So much of this episode doesn't make sense without Cas. And, honestly, a good chunk of outrage could have been avoided if Misha was allowed to film (or, if rumors were true, if they left his scenes in). Like it's been proven the majority of fans love Cas, and Jensen and Jared love Misha, so not having him in the finale gives credence to, that the cast and crew might love Misha, TPTB certainly didn't. And doesn't that tarnish your legacy, that you have a man dedicate 12 years of his life to your show and this is how you repaid him? Even if they decided to 'no homo' Cas's declaration (which i doubt they would have because those optics are much worse) at least show it.

Which leads to why he wasn't included in the finale. If he was there, they'd have to have him and Dean talk. About that night, when Cas told Dean he loves him. And if they did, and had there be a reciprocal confession, I bet things on Tumblr would have felt a little different. An equal exchange instead of plain highway robbery.. Yes we would all still want Dean and Cas to live long, human lives, but at least Dean and Cas's emotional arcs were resolved by the SHOW WRITERS, whose job it is to do so. Not ours! But they never understood how to give Castiel good things. Clearly, they know how to make Castiel give good things (like creating Dean's perfect Heaven for him) but not receive them in kind (reciprocated love from Dean). By not having this, it plays exactly into the bury your gays trope we were all afraid of, even if Cas is back. Because he, a queer character, is still living his life for a character he believes doesn't love him back - even if Cas 'doesn't need to know if that's true'. The audience does, and I'm sure Misha did as well.

The writers set up such an easy win but what this finale did was put every character back to season one, and given Misha didn't show up until season 4, makes sense why he wasn't in this episode.

- Sam's life after Dean: Sam liked being a hunter. We had how many countless episodes show that? He enjoyed saving people, research, being a leader - he was good at it. Hell, they even made it a point to have him find someone in the life who understood what it was like to hunt and wrote a beautiful relationship that also gave disability rep.

Only they never followed through.

Like, with Dean, so much of this lead up was then tossed out the window by Sam starting a family, which he never had any indication he wanted to do in these later seasons. Since season 8, really. What we got was that he liked to hunt, he was good at it. He could have restarted the Men of Letters, America chapter, and made the hunters even more connected than before!

Not saying he didn't do that, but knowing how Sam was raised I doubt he would let himself hunt with a kid. So, by showing him marry and have Dean Jr., it's a non-textual confirmation he retired. Which, like with Dean's ending, didn't make sense with what he wanted. It felt like a "might as well" since Dean wasn't there any longer. Like, whats the point of doing something I love now that I don't have my brother with me?

Instead of leaving the Bunker he should have transformed it into a bustling center of activity so he wasn't alone. Extend the Winchester family further and become the hunters' patriarch. Eileen being the matriarch.

Which, circling back, Eileen should have had textual confirmation, too. They showed a brunette woman standing far back, and I get if the actress couldn't be there to film why they would do that. But why not show pictures of him and Eileen if they did marry? I mean, there's a giant picture of Sam with Dean, Mary, and John I DON'T remember them ever having. Why he would blow that up after having two previous episodes talk about how much of a bad father he is...

Sam's ending falls in the same vein as Dean's in that it's unsatisfactory and doesn't fit the character anymore. Not saying Sam didn't want this in the past, but we all saw him change. Hunting was in his blood, and he was fantastic at it. It used to be a way for him to hang with Dean but it would have also been good to see him carry on the legacy in Dean's honor. A better way then by naming his son Dean.

Which strikes another nail on the head. We have Dean, a subtextually queer/textually ambiguous sexuality character, die, and because of this Sam can go on and live the 'apple pie life'? Cas's confession scene wasn't homophobic, but damned if Sam didn't spend the thirty years after Dean's death yelling 'Straight Pride'.

Textually, giving characters a family is a common trope in these sort of epilogues. Harry Potter, Hunger Games, etc. A way to show they've moved on from trauma and are trying to be happy (albeit in a very antiquated way). But at least it fit with those characters and stories. This was Sam trying to be a person who he wasn't anymore, who clearly would rather be on the road hunting (given that ugly wig scene in the garage with Dean's Impala). Actually, worse, it felt like Sam was trying to live a life Dean always wanted. Which shows that even if he's alive Sam isn't happy with what his life was, he was content. He was waiting for death.

- Dean's time in Heaven: Like I said previously about Dean and his 'death', it makes sense to have Dean die early if the goal was to show how Heaven had been changed. Which hurts worse because that again reinforces how Dean's storyline truly is left unresolved for plot development.

And, honestly, they should have cut this entire sequence if they weren't gonna have the cameos. They should have changed the script so that Dean didn't die, because there was no emotional pay-off of Dean going to heaven. We're told it's freedom, however it's more like a waiting room. For Dean, driving endlessly until Sam dies. And for us, being told we can't start writing until Sam gets there and we finish his montage.

Like, is it beautiful that Jack and Cas remade heaven so Dean would be happy? Yes. Did I need to know this until like maybe the last few minutes? No. Dean could have lived a long life, with Cas/without Cas, and then die first and be taken to Heaven. And then after Bobby gives him the rundown, about how time works differently here, we get the Sam end of life and see him pop up too. And when Sam asks what happened to Heaven, Dean could have clapped him on the back and told him he'd explain in the car and they drive away knowing they lived a good life, and have eternity of peace.

Because having Heaven be an open sandbox, for us, to let characters roam free and see those they love without them being memories - beautiful and exactly how Heaven should be. It definitely is something we as writers would have enjoyed if we didn't get it how we did.

Because it hadn't felt like Dean nor Sam deserved the deaths they got. Making Heaven, ultimate freedom, seem such a dangerous idea. That the only true peace is in death (Dean) and life is spent waiting for death so you can be reunited (Sam). What about any of that makes it seem like any of what Sam and Dean did was worth it? Was good? At least on Earth. Sure, without them (and Cas and Jack) Heaven wouldn't be the way it was. But that doesn't seem like a good reward for them. Their reward should have been living long lives (both of them) and them buttoning it with those five to seven minutes of how Heaven changed (more if they decided to leave Cas as an angel despite that being, again, zero character growth and not aligning with how the story was unfolding)

And after a painful, undeserved death, we get Dean in Heaven but still not happy? It was clear Dean was still waiting to let himself enjoy seeing all his family, his friends, Cas, because Sam wasn't there. Which shows he hadn't broken the sacrificial cycle because he's not putting himself first! "Oh but he has eternity to do it!" Yes, but he shouldn't have had to wait still. His whole life has been spent waiting and he gets killed just before he gets his due, and we never see him particularly 'enjoy' his reward, which is too tragic for a series finale. "He could have done more than drive, we don't know!" Yes, but if they're not showing it then why should I read into it? This finale isn't deep. "But covid-" Yeah, I get that. They should have changed the script because without those cameos Dean's time in Heaven was more than pointless and this whole finale was just an exercise in how to hate your main characters.

What this boils down to is that we, as fans, were told that this was for us, except we already knew Heaven was ours because Heaven was supposed to be the implied. Heaven is whatever we make of it. We didn't need to be told this through the show. Having this be the goal of this episode, of the finale - which sums up the goal of the entire series, really - be totally focused on the life we get after death instead of doing the most to make life on Earth paradise for you, was rotten. And Sam's 'happily ever after' was cheapened because of Dean's death.

- Family Don't End in Blood?: Taking into account all of the above, the show has failed the core message of what we as a fandom loved. Family don't end in blood.

Again, I get that covid stole any chance of reunions in Heaven, but it also stole so many others. Like Sam wouldn't have called Garth, Jody, Donna, the girls and Eileen, to have them here for Dean's funeral? Sam wouldn't have burned Dean alone! We know there was some time that passed since the hunt and Dean's funeral by the dog being there, but it should have been more people. Which, again, they should have axed it from the story if they couldn't get them because, like these side characters have done from the beginning, they change the context of the show! Sam's loneliness would have hit harder if it was a room full of people all telling stories about Dean to then just him, alone, in the Bunker trying to move on.

The writers thought we didn't need all these cameos, but we did because - as we keep repeating - while the show, at its heart, is Sam and Dean, there were so many more people who gave their characters depth and allowed for this show to continue. It should have been a celebration of who the boys became and how it was through these bonds they were able to overcome so much.

Which, if redone in that context, Dean's speech to Sam could have been so much better. More poignant and hopeful instead of sad. I mean, I could barely focus on what was being said because I was in too much shock of what was being done to Dean. If they had a similar speech, given with Dean and Sam parting ways to start new lives. Dean reminding Sam he's done so much good, that he's proud of his brother and knows he can do so much even without him, the emotional beat would have still hit! Probably even better than with his death. Because my takeaway from Dean's death isn't "Dean is proud of Sam" it's "Dean died stupidly".

Going to show that this entire script was a series of choices that were all the worst possible outcome, stitched together and handed in. It didn't feel congruent to the story and, instead, a bunch of items checked off of a list the writers were given. It didn't feel like the culmination of the series like we were promised, instead a 'what if the show skipped fourteen years after season 2, John's dead, Mom's killer dead, and no demon deal'. It felt like (even if it wasn't intended) the writers telling us "don't expect people to change or that happy ending exist in life" which, given current climates and attitudes, is dangerous.

Overall:

They were trying to satisfy an audience built around fandom and fanworks, they wanted to leave so much "up to interpretation" so we can continue crafting our narratives through this open sandbox. What they failed to consider is that we don't care where the brothers, or any of the characters, physically are in this show, we care more about the characters themselves and their emotional goals. That's why we write fanfiction. That's why there's a lot of canon divergence. We thank them for the world and play around in it. So, by giving Sam and Dean these 'half-lives' on screen, letting loose threads hang so we, as an audience, can fill in the blanks (Dean and Cas's heaven reunion, who Sam married, what Dean did while driving for fifty years, etc.) was a poor and lazy decision because we are tired of having to do your job! Supernatural is a collaborative effort yes, but they misunderstood the assignment. We still need textual goalposts, like seeing Cas or Eileen. We needed them to finish what they were saying, so we could then take over and continue the story.

A series finale should feel poignant but the only really emotional moment was Dean's death (not for good reasons), and the rest was filler. Your series finale should not feel like filler. It felt rushed. It felt sloppy and - because of not including a certain character - plain rude. Just... it didn't work. The short of it is that the finale, as a whole, didn't work. It didn't wrap the show up in its entirety like we were promised it would. And if they do revive this show for a mini-series or movie, they best forget what happened in episode 20.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #destiel #spn15 #deancas #jack kline #eileen leahy #saileen #15x20 opinions

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chiseler · 3 years

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Blood on the Moon

“The beauty of that man. He’s so still. He’s moving. And yet he’s not moving.” –Lee Marvin on Robert Mitchum

All cloudy skies and discouraging words, the range in Robert Wise’s Blood on the Moon (1949) is a place where no one can feel safely at home. The film opens on a dismal panorama of rain pounding a formless landscape, blotting out the horizon. Robert Mitchum comes riding alone, head down, rain dripping off his hat, stopping to gaze dejectedly over a dark valley.

If any one actor embodies the very notion of the “noir western,” it is Mitchum. Before he distilled the noir ethos with his world-weary pessimism and cool insolence, Mitchum started his career as a heavy in the amiable, low-budget Hopalong Cassidy series, earning “$100 a week and all the horse manure I could carry home,” he later recalled. After seven films with Cassidy—parts he described as “a lot of beard, very little dialogue”—Mitchum signed a contract with RKO, and the studio tried him out as a clean-cut cowboy hero in two Zane Gray westerns, Nevada (1944)and West of the Pecos (1945). He was wasted on these cardboard good guys and boy’s-adventure stories, which had no use for his undercurrents of melancholy, disaffection and skepticism. The first film to fully express his persona as the eternal outsider was Raoul Walsh’s seminal noir western, Pursued (1947), which cast him as a displaced foundling followed through life by the black cloud of his mysterious past.

As befitting a man who arrived in California aboard a freight train, and who never stopped identifying himself as a hobo, Mitchum was the movies’ quintessential drifter. He played all kinds of itinerants: exiles escaping criminal pasts, globe-trotting marines, roaming preachers, nomadic sheepherders, travelers on the rodeo circuit. He had hit the road at 15, driven not by an unhappy home or dire poverty but simply by the restless urge to wander, to taste the sweet anguish of loneliness far from hearth and home. In his memoir, Them Ornery Mitchum Boys, John Mitchum wrote that he initially saw his older brother Bob’s penchant for “running off” as a weakness of character, but came to admire the way he “simply released himself from emotional bondage.” Mitchum himself said that he had “been in a constant motion of escape my entire life.”

In Blood on the Moon he plays Jim Garry, a man with nothing: no home, no family, no job. In the opening scene his few possessions are destroyed by stampeding cattle as he sits miserably drying his wet, mud-caked boots by a small fire. This is the truth of the cowboy life. (When co-star Walter Brennan saw Mitchum in his elegantly rugged costume, he declared, “That is the goddamndest realest cowboy I’ve ever seen!”) Down on his luck after watching his own herd die of fever, Garry has been summoned by an old trail-herding partner to be cut in on a big deal. He doesn’t know that he’s being hired for his gun, or that the friend who sent for him is scheming to steal another man’s herd through a back-handed deal with a crooked government agent for the local Indian reservation. Walking into this charged situation as a stranger, he’s immediately greeted with hostile suspicion by both sides in a range war, and he counters evasively, refusing to take sides or reveal his true nature. Keeping to himself a lifetime of bad breaks and worse choices, Jim Garry gives the film a sad, uncertain, jaded heart. Mitchum never once smiles; the closest he comes is when Jim says that a murderous brawl with his erstwhile friend was “a pleasure.”

That friend is Tate Riling (Robert Preston), a shameless, smirking con man who lies to local farmers to get them on his side and seduces his enemy’s daughter into betraying her own father. Garry gets the picture but goes along without enthusiasm; he doesn’t like being a mercenary, and is acutely aware of the contempt he now inspires in decent people, but accepts it quietly. He is what Mitchum called himself in real life, “a patient cynic.” Watching on the sidelines, he’s riveting in his immobility. When he moves, it’s with weighted, lazy power. In one scene he confronts a gunfighter and walks toward him across the wide Main Street. All he has to do is walk, with his inimitable panther tread, and the other guy knows he’s outclassed and slinks away.

Jim is drawn to the feisty, outspoken daughter of the man Riling is trying to swindle (Barbara Bel Geddes—she and Mitchum meet cute by emptying their rifles at each other), but he’s motivated even more by growing disgust at Riling. “I’ve seen dogs wouldn’t claim you for a son,” he declares, setting off a savage brawl in which Mitchum and Preston hurl punches, chairs and bottles at each either as they wrestle, lurch and crash around an empty barroom in near-total darkness. The darkness and slashing gleams of light come courtesy of DP Nicholas Musuraca, who pioneered noir cinematography in Stranger on the Third Floor (1940) and diversified it in Out of the Past. Here he brings his mastery of shadows to the range, flooding much of the movie in an enveloping gloom that obscures actions and identities. For contrast, there is a gorgeous sequence of pursuit through a snowbound pass, with paths slicing through white drifts and across glittering plains. There is a shootout in a dense pine forest at night, with figures moving almost invisibly through the faintly glimmering boughs.

With its dirty deals, government corruption, romantic betrayal, mean thugs, gloomy bars, and its broke, lonely hero pondering whether or not to throw away his honor, Blood on the Moon’s story could be translated to any grimy, gang-ridden city. The film grows more conventional as it goes along, but the genre staples are well-handled, and there are powerful scenes like the one where Garry goes to tell Walter Brennan’s character that his son has been killed, and must endure the old man’s stricken, dry-eyed accusation. Mitchum’s reserve, detachment and neutrality are so attractive that it’s easy to ignore how they can turn into a wholesale abdication of moral responsibility. Under noir’s probing skepticism, the western hero’s stoic reticence becomes unhealthy passivity, his righteous determination becomes obsessive vindictiveness. The west’s promises of unbounded freedom and opportunity dwindle and close, the way once open grazing lands become bitter battle-grounds. Almost unseen in the film, yet key to its central crime, are the Indians confined to their reservation, while white men fight amongst themselves over the money to be made by feeding captive mouths. This land’s economy is dirtier than the muck of its cow-trampled pastures.

by Imogen Sara Smith

#Imogen Sara Smith #The Chiseler #Blood on the Moon #Robert Mitchum #Buster Keaton #In Lonely Places #Criterion

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night-unfurls-its-splendour · 3 years

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The Critique of Manners: Part III

~Or~

A Somewhat Indecisive Review of “Emma” (Miramax, 1996)

I have a feeling this review is gonna be a little harder for me to write. Everyone knows that recaps and reviews are most entertaining when the writer has an intense dislike (or intense feeling of any kind) for the drama they’re reviewing. It falls to other writers to pan or praise this film as they will, but I simply don’t have many particularly strong feelings about it at all. I have neither that repulsed dislike for this movie such as I did for Emma 1997, nor that disappointed frustration as for certain aspects of Emma. 2020, but neither do I have a deep, profound love and appreciation for it as I do for Emma 2009.

Written and Directed by American Screenwriter, director and actor, Douglas McGrath, Emma (1996) is rather what one expects it to be: a 90’s romance film. Perhaps it’s because I had expectations due to the era in which it was made, but I think I have a tendency to excuse some of the problems with this film. There are many unnecessary additions (for comedy’s sake usually and often quite cringe-y) and one definitely can’t claim that the dialogue hasn’t been tampered with. I don’t normally side with the “I do so miss Austen’s biting wit” crowd but, by ‘eck I felt it this time. That’s because Austen’s Biting Wit™ just doesn’t suit a fluffy 90’s chick flick (which this film is in a way that other big screen Austen adaptations of the time just aren’t – and I think approaching this film from the 90’s chick flick perspective is probably the best way to digest it.) This version, more than any other (except perhaps 2009) brings the concept of Emma-as-Matchmaker to the fore with a particular emphasis precisely because it’s a concept that fits well with the rom-com style of filmmaking used here.

The bones of this review, like my review for the ITV version, were written six years ago following my initial viewing only a select number of portions survive from that review (which is still on IMDb).

As with all my reviews I'll be comparing the script, characterizations and plot to the book and commenting on the authenticity and attractiveness of the costumes, and suitability of the houses and sets.

Let’s dive in.

Cast & Characterization

Emma is arguably the easiest of Austen’s works to read because of Emma’s generally good (if condescending and overly self-confident) character, and Mr. Knightley’s sober, mature but exceedingly pleasant manner. I had my doubts about Gwyneth Paltrow playing an Austen heroine, but I at least had faith in Jeremy Northam’s ability to portray the mature Mr. Knightly. My expectations were not entirely disappointed in either case.

My prevailing feeling about this film is that it’s not so much set in Jane Austen’s Regency England, but in an American fantasy of what Regency England was like. Perhaps the biggest factor that reinforces this impression is (of course) the casting choice for our leading lady, Gwyneth Paltrow.

Freckled, ruddy and thin as a twig, Gwyenth didn’t quite, to my mind, fit the physical description of Emma, who is supposed to be “The picture of health” according to Mrs. Weston. Add to this the Regency beauty ideal of a soft and shapely figure with regular features. Fair hair was generally preferred (and I have always imagined Emma as blond, although I’m given to understand that Austen’s idea of pretty generally favored dark hair), so I can’t fault Gwynnie there. What I can fault though is her so-so British accent.

I recently learned that the reason McGrath thought Paltrow would be a good choice was because she’s the only Texan he’d ever met who’d managed to entirely throw off her native accent; I guess he decided that if she could do that she could do any accent work? I guess? Seems questionable to me.

You know Joely Richardson was considered for this part? Gorgeous, refined (British) GODDESS Joely Richardson was passed over because Gwyenth managed to shake an embarrassing accent.

I hate American directors.

I’m not sure if it’s just part of the accent, or her attempt to sound upper class, but on this most recent re-watch it hit me for the first time how very nasal many of her line deliveries are. She also has this problem with looking (and sounding) sort of vapid and… just what is happening here?

Is she having a stroke at the end there?

A bigger problem than Emma’s casting, however, is her characterization.

Part of the above mentioned script tampering is in lockstep with some of the issues with Emma’s characterization here. Her very teenager-esque swings from vowing to never make another match again to immediately trying to think of another guy to set Harriet up with, and her getting carried away in potential scenarios “But if he seems sad I shall know that John has advised him not to marry Harriet! I love John! Or he may seem sad because he fears telling me he will marry my friend. How could John let him do that? I hate John!” (Especially when you never even really get to meet John Knightley in this version? Ugh, pass me with this shit) is so bizarrely childish it’s a little hard to stomach. She spends the movie going back and forth between mature and manipulative to childish and naïve and it just… doesn’t work for me. Emma can be all of these things but the transition from one extreme to another here seems a bit disjointed to me.

Knightley was a bit of a disappointment to me in this version. That’s not Jeremy Northam’s fault because I can’t think of a better choice they could have made. McGrath showed much better judgment with his choice for Mr. Knightley than he did with Emma.

My biggest problem with this interpretation was how laid back he was when he was supposed to chastising Emma. Their quarrels became more like mere disagreements so the proposal line of lecturing her and her bearing it as no other woman would have isn’t entirely earned. Even in the big scene at Box Hill where Knightley is really supposed to lay into Emma, he starts off pretty solidly, but by the end so doe-eyed and apologetic it fails to deliver the sting of rebuke that is Emma’s biggest learning moment in the story. Perhaps they were trying to go for a more disappointed feel (the kind that makes you feel worse than being shouted at because you really respect the person you let down) but it just didn’t come through for me.

Also of note is the fact that, (I assume) because John Knightley isn’t really allowed time to be a character in this film, McGrath took some of John’s introverted tendencies and transplanted them into his more convivial older brother (“I just want to stay home, where it’s cozy.” – I mean I feel that, but this isn’t something George Knightley would say.)

Onto the less central characters

I question also the choice of Toni Colette for Harriet Smith. I mean I actually liked her performance more on this watch than previously but I just don’t think she’s pretty enough for Harriet, and she looks a bit clumsy (though that might have more to do with her costumes.)

I also noted that McGrath bumps Harriet’s comprehension skills up just a scooch. Emma never has to explain the “Courtship” riddle to her, Harriet figures it out on her own after a while, while she never manages to in the book.

Now we come to the crux of Jane Fairfax, played by Polly Walker. I don’t care for this choice. My issue is the simple fact that she just isn’t believable to me as a demure, wronged character like Jane Fairfax. Seriously she looks like she would sooner throw Frank across the room than take his cruel teasing, and not in the subtle way that Olivia Williams managed to. They never even utilized her by including some of Jane’s more pointed returns to Frank’s jabs, which they even managed to squeeze into the massively cut down TV movie.

Speaking of Frank; Ewan McGregor, though generally delightful, was so under-used. Frank and Jane’s plotline always kind of gets shafted in Theatrical release adaptations of this story. It’s not as bad here as it is in say, the 2020 adaptation (they were in that version so little I actually forgot what their actors looked like), but it’s still pretty stunted.

I find it interesting that Ewan McGregor himself thinks his performance in this movie isn’t good; and I’ll agree it’s not his best (certainly it’s no Obi-wan Kenobi) but I thought he did a pretty good job with obviously unfamiliar material

Also if the Davies screenplay of ’97 made Frank’s character too caddish, I think this version didn’t make him caddish enough. I mean he’s hardly around enough to really develop his flirtation with Emma, and they merged Strawberry Picking and Box Hill into one sequence so we never see Frank’s ill humors. I can perhaps excuse this, since it seems like a nuanced story really wasn’t what McGrath was going for here, I think. This is a lite version of the story; schmaltzy fluff for teenage girls’ movie nights. Frank’s ill humors wouldn’t really have fit the tone of this version at all.

Interestingly enough, though it’s taken me a long time to make this decision, I think Alan Cumming might be the definitive Elton? He’s the only one who doesn’t immediately read as a slime ball from the get go. I mean he’s got all the warning signs that Austen wrote into him, but no more than that. He’s not slinking about greasily or obviously pandering (at first), so Emma’s uneasy realization of what’s really happening here isn’t a hundred miles behind the viewer’s (maybe just fifty).

There are as many Mrs. Eltons out there as there are adaptations of this story, and they’re all pretty great (funky accents aside), but other than the 1997 take, this one might be the least great to me. She’s not nearly pushy enough, because Mrs. Elton would never let Emma prompt the conversation when she could do it herself.

Also, I think McGrath misunderstands Mrs. Elton’s brand of New Money vulgarity. He has her talking with her mouthful, clanking her utensils on her plate as she eats, putting biscuits which she’s bitten into back onto communal plates, which I think even Mrs. Elton would know not to do. Table manners are pretty basic; the couth that Mrs. Elton lacks is of a more nuanced social kind – for instance, what is and isn’t considered gauche to talk about (like how big one’s brother in law’s house is or how many horses he keeps.)

(A sudden thought has just occurred to me: is Mrs. Elton just a more mean-spirited Hyacinth Bucket from Keeping Up Appearances? “It’s meh sister, Mrs. Suckling! That’s right, the one with an estate in Warwickshire and the two barouche landaus!”)

Sophie Thompson’s Miss Bates is chatty and one of better takes on the character, but lack of necessary background hinders her impact on Emma’s story. The comedy in her scenes is some of the best and actually made me laugh, although I think she was just way too giggly.

Miss Bates’s mother, Mrs. Bates, is played by Sophie Thompson’s real-life mother Phyllida Law in a completely coincidental quirk of casting. (I noted in this film how very much Emma Thompson, Sophie’s older sister looks like their mother.)

My only other serious issue with characterization in this adaptation is the representation of Mr. Woodhouse. He is somehow simultaneously more cheery and more disagreeable than he is in the book. His chiding about the cake at the Weston’s wedding seems more like a scolding rather than an anxious admonishment. In one of the first scenes, during Mr. Woodhouse’s “Poor Miss Taylor” speech, he says he cannot understand why she would want to give up her comfortable life with himself and Emma, to have “mewling children who bring the threat of disease every time they enter or leave the house,” and he says this IN FRONT OF ONE OF HIS TWO DAUGHTERS.

Of course in the book, Mr. Woodhouse does lament Miss Taylor marrying, leaving and even having children – but this is all in the context of the danger childbirth presents to Miss Taylor (And the fact that he can’t stand losing a companion). These are his complaints – not the children themselves. In addition, his elder daughter has quite a fine number of children, all of them very young, of whom Mr. Woodhouse is very fond. He’s a character that needs to be carefully handled because, much like his daughter, it’s very easy for him to become unlikeable.

For the rest of the time, though, he just sort of cheerily laughs and is very at ease, when Mr. Woodhouse, as a chronic hypochondriac should be made anxious by just about everything.

Sets & Surroundings

One thing I find interesting about this adaptation is that the houses they chose to use are all of a very neo-classical Palladian style, which I believe (given her disdain for the contemporary trend of knocking down England’s great houses just to rebuild them in a more fashionable style) Austen may have disliked to some degree.

One such house is Came House in Dorset, which was used as the Woodhouse’s estate, Hartfield. Now Hartfield is, I think, described as a well-built modern house so this could be pretty accurate (although Modern could refer to the red bring, boxy style of Georgian architecture, such as the houses used in the 1997, 2009 and 1972 versions.)

Another, Claydon House in Buckinghamshire played the role of Donwell Abbey. I think this might be the worst exterior ever used for Donwell, from a book accuracy perspective. Utterly Georgian, with its’ square façade, Claydon house sort of directly contradicts Austen description of being “Larger than Hartfield, and totally unlike it, covering a good deal of ground, rambling and irregular…” not only is the architecture totally wrong, so is its’ situation, in Georgian fashion, perched on a hill, when Donwell (a very old building) is supposed to be “Low and sheltered”.

Mapperton House is maybe the grandest house yet used for Mr. Weston’s Randalls (I’ve already covered in my review of Emma (2020) why this is a problem – although in this version, as in the 1997 adaptation, there’s no full panic over the snow, so this is less of a problem, but a house like this is still too grand for the reasonably sized Randalls of the book), but it fits the usual 15th-16th century house type that always seems to be used for Randalls.

A myriad of other great houses were used for interiors, however other than Crichel House (Dorset), which was used for Donwell’s interiors, I can’t find information on which ones where used for what. They include Breakspear House (Harefield), Coker Court (Somerset), Stafford House (Staffordshire) and Syon House & Park (Middlesex).

I really appreciate the interiors which were all very colorful and even included doors and molding painted the same color as the walls which is a very Georgian decorating convention, although it looks odd to the modern viewer.

Costumes & Hair

As a rule, the costumes (Created by Ruth Myers) in this movie are pretty damn good, composition wise, but the arrangement leaves a lot to be desired. Myers talked extensively of wanting the costumes to be colorful and bright like the water colors of the time, which she achieved brilliantly. What I find funny is that she talked about using color as if it would be controversial from a historical accuracy point of view, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

The evening wear is generally excellent

My only question around evening wear here is… what’s up with the waistline on Harriet’s ball gown? Why is it going up in the middle? Toni Collette (who actually gained weight for the role, since Harriet was described as “Reubenesque”) verged on looking a little dumpy throughout the film and awkwardly bumping up her waistline in the middle really didn’t help.

I’m pleased to report that is is the one version where Miss Bates’s evening-wear is allowed to look like evening wear. Even Maiden Aunts wore shorter sleeves and lower necklines at dinner or balls. They fussed her up with some lace gloves and frilly fichus but it follows the conventions of the time. I appreciate that immensely, though I have the sneaking suspicion that it’s because of Sophie Thompson’s age.

At 37 Thompson was an unconventionally young choice for Miss Bates, a character who previously had only been cast as older than 50 (Prunella Scales, who would play the role later in 1996, was 64). Indeed, Douglas McGrath almost passed Thompson over for the role on account of her age, but reconsidered after seeing her in spectacles. It seems possible to me that since Thompson was considered young they dressed her “young” as well.

The daywear is where the costumes start to really fall apart. There are a lot of looks here worn in the day that are VERY not day/outerwear appropriate, especially on Emma, most especially the yellow dress she’s wearing while driving that carriage (which, btw is inappropriate on a whole OTHER level). Can we just talk aboutt he cognative dissonance of bothering to put a bonnet on her when her arms and boobs are just hanging out like that? Like, it would almost have been less egregious to just leave the bonnet where it was.

But then there are a lot of Emma’s day-wear looks that are perfectly suitable and appropriate. What I find ironic about that is that most of the short-sleeved, low-necked “Evening-gowns as day-wear” looks are worn OUTSIDE in the sun and most of the long-sleeved, sun protecting, day-wear appropriate looks are worn INSIDE. She’s also got a profusion of dangling curls in day-time settings that are also more evening-wear appropriate (to match the dresses, perhaps?)

I’m also pleased to report that even in day-wear Miss Bates gets a break from brown in this version. Her clothes are nice, but not fancy like Miranda Hart’s in Emma. 2020, and I like to think that nice thick shawl with lace overlay is the one mentioned in the book that Jane’s friend Mrs. Dixon sent along home with her for her aunt.

My only problem with Mrs. Elton’s kit is that it’s all perfectly nice, but none of it is overly-nice. There’s no extra trim, no unnecessary lace, not even any bold colors. I hope Myers and McGrath didn’t take Mrs. Elton’s line in the book about her fear of being over-trimmed seriously.

Let’s talk outerwear. There’s a lot of going into town with JUST a shawl on in this movie (usually over short sleeves), and I’m sorry but I don’t think that’s how outer-wear worked in this time period. A shawl is good enough when you’re taking a turn in the garden but not for going out in public into town, unless maybe you’re wearing long sleeves, or perhaps paired with a SPENCER.

Never mind Mrs. Elton’s line about a shocking lack of satin at the end of the movie, I’m more concerned about the shocking lack of spencers. There are precisely three in this film. I counted (and the sleeves on Emma’s look like maybe they’re too long for her?) Mrs. Elton sports the only redingote in the film.

Jane Fairfax is, as always, in her classic Jane Fairfax Blue™,

although she has some nice white gowns at some points too.

Now, onto

Definitely a bit more colorful than the 97 adaptation. Mr. Knightley benefits most from the addition of colors other than green. He’s even got some smashing waistcoats and a very nice blue evening coat (I couldn’t get very good shots of them though). The problem is; those trousers? NOT. TIGHT. ENOUGH.

Also… you all see it, right? I circled it in red so you should. Yeah. Knightley is dancing in boots. WTF RUTH? Please! You’re better than this! Who dances in Prussians like that? I ask you! (Frank also wears boots to the Cole’s dinner party so that’s two strikes.)

I’m not sold on Frank’s looks. His day-wear is a bit sedate for such a confirmed dandy (I believe he’s called a “coxcombe” in the book?) and his evening wear… well he apparently only has the one look.

And speaking of Frank’s look in this film, I’d like to know at whose doorstep I should lay the blame for what Ewan McGregor himself has called “The Worst Wig Ever”; and why the hair designer in charge decided to model Frank’s aesthetic on a theme of “Chucky meets the Mad Hatter”.

This hairstyle not only looks dreadful, it’s not at all fashionable or authentic to this time period! Fashionable mens’ hair styles at this point were all relatively short. A Beau Brummel coiffeur, or a short Roman style, or a fashionable head of curls like Mr. Elton’s! Not this farmer chic. Robert Martin’s hair is more fashionable than Frank’s!

The tune they chose for Emma and Knightley’s dance is a baroque melody (so a hundred or so years out of fashion) called “Mr. Beveridge’s Maggot” and as is pointed out in the video linked above, and is the same tune and dance used for Lizzie and Darcy’s big dance in Pride and Prejudice (1995).

I get why it was used in P&P because, slow, stately baroque tunes are often used as on-screen short hand for snobbish character like Mr. Darcy. It’s not super intense either, like the baroque tune used in P&P 05, which was chosen for more romantic effect. So why use this kind of “stuck up” tune for what should be a romantic dance? Maybe because it was used in the 95 P&P which became, almost instantly, one of the most popular Austen adaptations?

Quick note on the dancing and music in this movie. I’m not an expert on English Country dance (I’ll outsource that by giving you the usual link to Tea with Cassiane’s analysis on YouTube) but I’ll add my two cents - I know Cassiane gave this a pretty favorable three full dance slippers but I think the way all of the actors and dancers move looks very poorly rehearsed and kind of sloppy. I think everyone just spread out way too much.

Douglas McGrath’s Script

I have to say one of the things this film did very well and brought to the forefront is how insular Emma’s life is. The opening credit sequence brings this to our attention right away by showing a spinning globe which, once it slows down is shown to be, literally, Emma’s whole tiny world. Hartfield, Donwell, Randalls and Highbury. That’s it. It’s perhaps not a very subtle device, but it does get the job done and very succinctly too.

I would now like to talk about my issues with the script of this movie; I have some problems with it. Very different problems than it’s 1996 counterpart though.

First let’s go over the comedic device that jumped out to me most in this movie: the awkward pause.

I think it’s only used twice but they both bothered me.

First there’s the pauses while Emma and Mrs. Weston grill Knightley on whether he considers Jane Fairfax romantically. It’s all written as very “OoOoOooo” with Knightley answering their interrogations and then sitting between them awkwardly as they stare him down as, none of his answers giving either Emma or Mrs. Weston satisfaction. This is one of the most teen rom-com moments of the film to me.

Next there’s all the quiet stretches while Emma and Mrs. Elton have tea at Hartfield. I don’t like the use of awkward pauses in this case because (as I mentioned in Mrs. Elton’s characterization section) it’s so ludicrous to me that there are pauses in this conversation at all. Surely the point of Mrs. Elton is that she loves to hear herself talk and her conceited obsession with the idea that everyone around her must only benefit from hearing her opinions. There should be no conceivable reason why Emma should have to prompt conversation like she does in McGrath’s version of this scene, except to derail Mrs. Elton’s constant self-important yammering.

Watching it this time around I found myself wondering exactly what McGrath wanted to do with this film. I mean I’ve been attempting to decipher exactly whether the changes made were conscious and based on artistic vision, or whether they were changed because the source material just flew over McGrath’s Hollywood Director head.

I mean he gets the important plot points across, but there were other scenes that I had issues with: namely, the Archery scene. This is a pretty intense part of the book because Mr. Knightly goes from astonished, to indignant, to truly vexed with Emma in a short period of time. But this scene in the movie is very casual. The part where Emma’s arrow goes wide and into the general direction of Knightley’s dogs, and he takes an opportunity to make a quip and says “try not to kill my dogs” particularly annoyed me. My issue is that this totally ruins the tension of the scene; and why are Knightley’s dogs sitting BEHIND THE TARGETS ANYWAY? Knightley is a sensible man, and one who knows better than to let his dogs rest in a place where stray arrows could hit them!

The dialouge is very jarring because it flips back and forth beetween being alright, and period appropriate and then it will just spring a very modern turn of phrase and pull you completely out of the setting. I know this is something that’s been brought up with the 2009 version as well but maybe it’s because the actors in that version have (in my opinion) better chemistry that it simply doesn't stick out to me as much.

The comedy in general in this movie just makes me cringe a lot of the time (Sophie Thompson’s “oh sorry, napkin” bit notwithstanding). Like the soup thing when Emma and Harriet meet Mr. Elton after visiting the poor, and the random kid that gets tossed into this scene with Emma… just doesn’t work for me.

Wikipedia describes McGrath’s tweaks on Emma and Knightley’s banter (which really weren’t changed that much, textually) as “Enlivened” to make the basis of their attraction more apparent, which… I’m sorry but nothing about the exisiting banter isn’t lively if delivered in a lively manner. And I wouldn’t exactly call Gywneth’s performance lively, because she has to concentrate to keep that accent up.

I mentioned already that what McGrath essentially did with Emma was take Austen’s story, and remove the nuance (Such as lightening Frank’s infractions in his relationship with Jane and, while not totally contradicting, but also not highlighting the economic commentary of the story that is thematic in Austen’s novel) in order to make a straight up 90’s comedic romance film (Which, if you doubt this, look no further than Rachel Portman’s Oscar Winning but very dated score).

My Question is why? Why bother when the SAME STORY had been adapted into a HIGHLY SUCCESSFUL, modernized rom-com THE PREVIOUS YEAR, which actually, even while being set in the 90’s, did the story greater justice, with far more insight and quality?

Emma (1996) was always going to be over-shadowed by Clueless. At the end of the day this whole movie was kind of a futile effort because despite excellent production quality, the actual contents are watered down and, in my own opinion, pretty roundly mediocre.

Final Thoughts

When I first watched both of these versions I came at it from a very one-or-the-other perspective. I forgave McGrath’s film because it was light and colorful and I’d heard Davies’ version praised so highly at that time as the only faithful, definitive version (only to be let down by it in almost every possible way). But coming right down to it now, it’s hard for me to really excuse McGrath’s effort because a version of Emma that doesn’t take itself seriously enough is almost as bad as a version that takes itself too seriously.

It never fails to jump out at me how diametrically opposed these interpretations are, from the characterization right down to the tone and lighting.

McGrath’s Emma is light in every sense of the word, where Davies’ is dark and ponderous. McGrath’s Knightley is laid back where Davies’ is aggressive and ferocious. Frank, in McGrath’s version, is let off easy by the narrative playing down his moodiness, while in Davies there’s an overshadowing dark-cloud of off-putting caddishness.

Ribbon Rating: Tolerable (58 Ribbons)

The more I watch the 1996 adaptations of Emma (invariably back-to-back) the more firmly I am convinced that Andrew Davies’ made for TV film was (in some ways) a direct response to McGrath’s motion picture.

Tone: 7

Casting: 7

Acting: 5

Scripting: 5

Pacing: 4

Cinematography: 4

Setting: 5

Costumes: 6

Music: 5

Book Accuracy: 6

#jane austen #jane austen emma #regency #period drama #costume drama #classic literature #emma 1996

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buck-nialled · 4 years

Text

Relative Wonders - P. Mendes (Lookalike Bonus!)

NOTE: so this is not only the longest imagine I have posted on this site (roughly 7.5k+ words) but weirdly it did not take to long to write. THIS IS ALSO BASED IN THE SAME UNIVERSE AS MY RAUL FIC “LOOKALIKE” WHICH I RECOMMEND READING BEFORE THIS FOR IT TO MAKE SENSE. For plot purposes, some of the setting details and a name are changed, but other than that this mainly focuses on Julia and Peter and what went on between them. I would also like to tag @lonelyreputation and @itrocksmysocks for their support and being my hypemen while I took time to wrote this. Without them, I porbably would have lost my shit and flung my computer against the wall in frustration. Alright, here it is! <3

The university’s library was buzzing with whispers about the monotonous topics Professor Clayton always seemed to be covering in his lectures, or the 2,000-word paper people were just now beginning to write for Composition II with the acknowledgment of its due date being tomorrow. Normally, Peter would have scurried back to his dorm hall with the unearthed book in hand to avoid any disruptive noises. That was his routine walking into any place other than that which he felt comfortable and welcome. But it was four hours until the library’s closing and he had already begun to feel like a disposition under the apathetic stare of the woman sat behind the front desk when she scanned the novel discussing the many wonders of space. Peter swears he saw the woman’s lips climb into a smile when peering down at the book, but they sagged down hopelessly before the small lines surrounding the pair’s corner could introduce themselves.

“Thank you, ma’am. You have a good night.” Peter’s hand comes out to collect the book in his grip once again, receiving an unintelligible hum in reply. He could picture the warm comforter and lumpy waiting back for him at his dorm as he spun around to exit with a smile. But all at once, the thoughts of strolling out of the door dissipated, and the chair beside Julia morphed into a considerable substitute for his lofted, twin xl bed. Her eyes scanned the collection of pages that sat on her folded, skort-clad legs. Peter’s eyes traveled down her partially bare thighs, down her naked calves, and paused at the sight of her wiggling toes peeking out of the sandals donning her feet. A particular warmth fills him, one which he has been exposed to more often than not and always whenever around the girl. He discovered this pattern after piecing together every event where she was a main character of sorts. The first of the sequence occurred months prior in their Economics class, when the girl—whom Peter always found punctual from her usual attendance and habit of being in the lecture hall ten minutes before the lesson started, every single time—seemed to quite literally be racing the clock this certain day. A foreign body took the opportunity of stealing Julia’s open seat, an impetus for Peter’s brows to clinch together in puzzlement and wonder of where she could be. He was provided an answer close to five minutes later in the form of a meek whisper asking if the seat beside him was taken. Recognizing the voice instantly from each presentation she voiced or answer she gave to the professor’s questions, the brunette’s head snapped up from his ruled notebook covered in blue-inked notes.

He became flustered on instinct, much like whenever she entered the classroom to take her usual seat. Gulping down any squeaks Peter was determined not to let slip from him, he shook his head in approval and pushed the framed glasses accompanying his face further onto the bridge of his nose. When continuing to his notes, Julia turned in her chair to gaze at his profile. He could feel the warmth spreading inside of him that moment with such intensity, knowing Julia was a forearm’s width away from him and studying his flickering eyes and beet red cheeks like it were a textbook. His heartbeat raced at a tempo he never thought possible at the sight of her leaning closer to peer at his notes. She leans away seconds after, deflating both Peter’s excitement and hasty pulse. And she made both screech to a stop with her next whisper.

“Thanks, Peter.” His eyes were still glaring at his paper when he took notice of his name scrawled in the top left of his notes before his heartbeat circumvented back to its original pace, and his cheeks were beyond glowing with red.

“No problem.” Is all he could mutter before he and Julia zoned back into the teacher’s enthusiasm over compound interest. That particular lecture warped to something short-lived and left Peter wistful the following class when he spotted Julia occupying her original seat. Since then, not much conversation had transpired between the two, as they only shared one—surprisingly—populated class and lived who knows how far from each other on campus.

Peter blinks his eyes several times in succession by the sight of her figure shifting and standing up from her seat. Clearing his throat, Peter spun and meandered over towards the wall by the front door, hand coming around his head to scratch the back of his fluffy, umber locks. His eyes trail away from the building’s dusty carpet and catch a glimpse of Julia’s strawberry-tinged locks floating past him and towards the desk, book in hand. To his surprise, the woman at the desk held a nice set of teeth behind her firm-lined lips that Peter found the need to blink greater than before. What was her secret to making the woman smile, Peter wonders? Furthermore, he thinks, why did it not surprise her? Unfamiliar laughter saturates the air, and soon Julia’s was harmonizing with it in quiet giggles. It left Peter’s ears in a momentary trance of sorts from its light, airy sound. From his limited view, he could make out the dimples her freckled cheeks were donning with grace so enamoring, Peter’s insides felt like they had reached a boiling point.

Due to the sensory overload that was only the sight of her, Peter could only make out shards of the hushed conversation. Both of the females thanked one another, and Julia informed her of something’s arrival in the days to come, leaving both ladies giddy with anticipation. After bidding a small farewell with a wave of her hand, Peter saw the pair of sandaled feet pivot from his peripheral view and made quick work to lean against the wall with his head cocked down, adjusting the book comfortably in his grip as he stared into one of the pages, brown eyes trailing along the lines of words but absorbing none of them.

“Nice book.” Her voice piped up as she lifted a finger to aim it at Space Wonders: The Gifts of the Galaxy copy Peter’s hands were currently utilizing. When he lifted his head, though, the body of the voice was gone and in place of it, the entrance to the library swinging shut nearby.

-------

Days have passed since Peter’s debacle at the library, leaving him slightly embarrassed and curious if Julia knew it was him peering down at the old book. She seems like the type of person to compliment strangers on their choice of niche, Peter concluded on his walk back from Astronomy 1102 class. A long, skinny shadow caught his eyes on the pavement and called for his eyes to glance up. When he did peer up from his shuffling steps, his chestnut irises bulged at the sight of the wobbling tower of cardboard boxes. He located two hands and forearms and everything below supporting the bottom of the stack but still lacked a face to the balancing spectacle behind it. He looked around, finding most students peering down at their cellphones or too engrossed in conversation with others to notice either of them. While Peter would much rather stumble into his dorm room for a much-needed nap, the guilt of avoiding this uncoordinated stranger would come back to haunt him if he chose not to. If not guilt, then karma would hunt him down, no doubt.

“Do you need help?” Peter offers, intercepting the piled boxes marching toward him.

The voice pipes up in a soft, “huh,” through the boxes, and turns their body. When Peter is introduced to Julia’s wide, green gems of eyes and parted pink lips he loses all proper direction of his thought for the seconds following. “Oh, hi. Yeah, that’d be great if you could. I should warn you though, they’re kind of—”

“Woah!” The man exclaims, upon taking hold of three of the five small cubes from the stack and nearly dropping them from the unexpected weight.

“…heavy,” Julia finishes, looking up at Peter with a meek smile and shrugging. “They’re books.” She pretends not to notice Peter’s adjusting of the boxes in his arms and the flex of his triceps while he did so.

“All of them?” Peter looks to the two other packages her arms were embracing and earns a nod. “How many classes are you taking?”

Julia her head with a chuckle. “Oh, these aren’t for classes. They’re for me.” She is left unsurprised when Peter’s steps falter and his eyes grow wide behind the framed lenses.

“All of them? To read?” The triplet guffaws, trying to keep his long legs in time with her fast steps. She spares him a glance and elicits a scoff.

“That’s what books are for, last time I checked…” the last few words of her reply are quiet, but still picked up by Peter’s ears. “I like to read, anyways.” She shrugged. Losing all sense in what interactions of theirs were real or Peter’s wandering thoughts in History with Professor Lewis, he blurts out the fact of, “I know,” before his mind could catch up to his tongue. Immediately he wants his teeth to catapult from the edge of his lips and puncture the air around the two of them, leaving no trace that Peter said exactly what he said.

“Oh, do you now?” Julia inquires, raising a brow. “And how exactly do you know this?” Peter shut his eyes and threw his head backward, allowing his chestnut curls to fly back and no longer obstruct the blood rising to his cheeks.

“That sounded bad, didn’t it?” He avoids her interrogative gaze and opts for staring off into the campus’s greenery amidst collecting his words. “I didn’t mean—I mean…I do. But I wasn’t...it was at th-the library, yeah.” His eyes flicker up to meet her befuddled gaze and slow nod as she tried piecing together his barrage of stammers. “I was there the other night and saw you reading…you looked pretty into the story.”

Julia rolls her eyes with a small smile, “it was probably one of the books I’ve been rereading while I wait for these to come in.” She lifts the boxes lightly, and Peter takes notice of a small, lonesome freckle dotted beside her right elbow. “I saw you too,” she admits through a murmur. For a moment, their eyes dart to one another’s, both holding honest looks from the instant they meet until their departure. “You were reading Space Wonders, right? I think I saw this same head of curls on my way out of the door.”

Taking one of her arms out from beneath her stack of boxes, she reaches up to flick a loose curl away from the man’s face, that had been a nuisance for tickling the bridge of his nose and obstructing his view of this a gorgeous woman. Her attempt proved little to no use, once the curl fell back in place moments later in its refusal to be tamed and ultimately, gifted Peter the opportunity to listen to Julia’s melodious laughter again.

“Yeah, sorry I ignored you back there.” The last syllable of his sentence did not finish rolling off of his tongue before the girl gave a small, nonchalant wave of her hand.

“Ah, we’ve all been there. When I was fourteen, I was grounded for a week because I couldn’t put down a book long enough to do chores.”

“Wow, what a rebel you were,” Peter remarks. “Did you read past your bedtime, too?”

Her eyes flick up and to the side as if contemplating a proper answer. Her lips twitched into a small smirk before murmuring a sly, “on occasion,” which left the two grinning wildly.

“A whole week, huh?” He lifts his brows. “Must’ve been a good read.”

“It was amazing! Well, what I got to read of it, at least. My parents took it away for the week and when I finally finished all of the chores, they said it got lost.”

“What? No!”

“I know!” She mimics his dismayed tone of voice. “And by that point, I only had, like, three chapters to finish.”

“Do you remember the name of the book?” The girl shakes her head with a downtrodden expression. It was one Peter never hoped to see again, as he preferred the craters by her lips and taught-pulled cheeks much more.

“I could tell you every detail of the plot like the back of my hand, some character names…but it’s been so long that whenever I try thinking of the name or author, I just blank.” Her voice croaks in disappointment, and Peter finds his insides sinking when she slows her footing. “Well, this is me.” His eyes shift from her to the dorm building and his mouth parts open.

“You live in Dixon?”

“Yeah.”

“So do I. How come we’ve never run into each other before?” Peter wonders aloud, brows furrowing together.

Julia hums, taking the rest of the boxes from the boy’s grip. “Beats me. Think about it and tell me later. See ya, Peter!” She calls, retreating inside of the building and to her respective side where all of the girl’s dorms were located. Still, Peter stood gobsmacked, no longer from the revelation that they both lived in the same residence hall, but the words she left him to manifest. He was unaware when ‘later’ would be, but he was holding Julia to it through every bounce in his step back up to his room. All Peter yearned for was a nap before running into Julia, but when entering the room and replaying the account for himself, over and over, he knew the endeavor would be fruitless. He settled for ripping out a sheet of paper from one of his notebooks and hastily jotting a note for later onto it, pinning it to the corkboard hung on the concrete wall.

FIND BOOK, the paper read.’

------

Perhaps it was the newfound information about the girl or the conversation Peter had shared with her that ended in a potential ‘later’ that encouraged him to confide in his brothers. When he informed Shawn and Raul with his recent infatuation, the weight lifted from him as he was met with proud cheers and pats on the back from his older siblings.

“So, when are you gonna ask her out?” Raul asks.

“What?” Peter quips, raising his eyebrows.

“Well, you like her.” Shawn shrugs. “Ask her out.” Unlike his brother’s Peter was not one to commit to an idea the first go-round. Every assignment he turns in requires heavy outlining, drafting, and sometimes scrapping if the result did not meet his standards. He would find himself spending hours in the grocery store, wary of which brand of laundry detergent was better for fighting stains or second-guessing if it was cheddar or sharp cheddar he enjoyed best on his sandwiches. Asking a girl out was a territory the man still had yet to explore and conquer, and Peter acknowledged that this venture of his would make the grocery store look easygoing in comparison.

Peter thought his brief excuse of, “it’s not that easy,” would fulfill his brothers’ prying. He was proved wrong when they argued back immediately with their chorus of, “of course it is” and “just play it cool, be confident.”

“I appreciate the help, guys but I already have a plan…” Upon hearing this, Raul and Shawn harmonized in anguished groans.

“A plan? Pete, you might as well just make a blueprint of the restaurant you’re taking her to!” The oldest scrubs a hand over his face.

“Some things don’t have to be planned out, dude.” Shawn brings his hand up to rub harsh circles into one of Peter’s shoulders. “If you just ask her out—”

“I will ask her out,” Peter confirms, surprising himself with the assertion in his voice. “But, just…let me do it my way.” His desperate plea was enough for Shawn and Raul to concede to his wishes. When they left the room, he found himself staring at the corkboard across the room, eyes burning holes into the lined paper screaming “FIND BOOK” at him. The boy brings a hand up to his temples, which were beginning to throb, and deciphers now is an opportune time for a nap. Shutting his eyes, he wastes no time removing his glasses and falling back against the old mattress with a grunt. He buries his face into the pillows beneath him and let his nostrils soak in the strawberry air freshener circulating the room. Flashes of Julia’s straight, amber-hued locks flash in his mind, and he becomes whisked away to sleep replaying the tune of her giggles with a smile curling onto his lips.

------

That same smile completely crumbled the following day, when he was sat with his two brothers and Raul’s girlfriend on their side of the semi-private dorm. Their other roommate, Connor, was out of town for the week which meant all of them felt no pressure ending conversation so early so the boy could get some sleep. A small lull hit their jabbering, one of the many Harry Potter films the triplets held in their possession now just playing on Shawn’s laptop as background noise.

“Mm,” Shawn hummed, “Pete, I ran into that girl from your Econ class the other day. What’s her name…” Shawn snapped his fingers repeatedly as if it would power the energy to the dim bulb in his brain.

“Julia?” Peter’s piqued interest and raised eyebrows were noticed immediately by Aryn, who sat up from her lean against Raul’s chest on his bed they were claiming.

“Ooh, who’s Julia?” She sang in question. Peter found heat scorching his cheeks in seconds and shook his head.

“Nobody.”

“Only his crush for, what, two years now—”

“Shawn!” The younger of the three hisses, eyes narrowed through the frames of his glasses. He now regrets spilling his guts to the middle brother.

“What? Aryn’s a girl, she could probably help you ask her out.” Raul reasons with Shawn nodding alongside. The youngest of the three was more irritable than before with the oldest justifying Shawn and his big mouth.

“Well, about that…” Shawn’s hand reaches up to scratch the back of his head. Peter’s eyes are swollen instantly and Aryn gasps, even more, invested than before.

“What? What’d you do?” Peter demands, voice stern. He could feel one of his eyes begin twitching uncontrollably behind his glasses and hands begin furling themselves into fists.

“Well, when we were talking, she kind of thought you were me…so, I did the job for you—”

“You WHAT?!” Peter bellows, standing up and running his fingers viscously through his curls. He shakes his head and murmurs ‘no’ many times, alongside a string of curses. Had it not been for his feet already abandoned of his sneakers, a line would have been present on the floor from his uncontrollable pacing. “How? W-where?” He demands, hands frantically flailing about to reach for any invisible answers for his cries.

It was actually inside of the campus’s small coffee shop that his brother and his brother’s crush crossed paths. When Shawn’s hand embraced the warm Styrofoam cup being handed to him by the barista stood behind the counter, he sent an appreciative nod and spun around, almost sending the cup of coffee flying. His chest inflated from the sharp breath he took, and the girl observed it with a curious stare. It was not one of the looser sweaters she always thought Peter modeled so charmingly, and rather a tight-fitted, solid tee-shirt.

“Sorry,” the girl murmurs and tucks a few frizzy strands of hair to rest behind her hair while taking two steps backward. She glanced up shyly into Shawn’s eyes. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“That’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Shawn assures, thinking that was where the conversation with the unfamiliar face would conclude. He was proven wrong when she failed to move from her spot in front of him and fidgeted with her fingernails, coated with flakes of nail polish she needed to remove at this point.

“Um, I just wanted to say thank you for the other day. Walking all the way back to Dixon with those boxes by myself would have been a nightmare.” Her freckled cheeks become stained with pink as she lets out a nervous chuckle. Shawn furrows his eyebrows and opted for a slow nod in reply, though he did not remember this girl or the boxes she was referring to.

“Well, that’s all I came to talk to you about…unless there was anything you wanted to say to me…” There was a lull to her voice that was hinting for Shawn to say something, but he was blanking on what exactly that could be. The girl releases a breath after a few moments of silence and glances down at her shoes with an expression of understanding.

“Right then, I’ll just be out of your hair. You look different without your glasses, by the way.” This comment piques Shawn’s interest and he could feel the tips of his ears become erect with attention.

“What?” He murmurs, seeing her pivot on her feet. “Wait…hang on…uh…” What did Peter say her name was, Shawn thinks to himself? Justine, Juliette, ah—

“Julia!” Shawn calls, racing behind her to the doorway.

“Yes?” Hastily, she spins to meet his brown eyes, which appeared much darker beneath the shop’s lights. Her green eyes were growing and expectant…yearning. Shawn's lips withdrew to explain his confusion, but a different thought prevented it. If she thinks I am Peter, he muses to himself...

“I’m sorry. I’m just bad with this stuff, you know. Talking to you…just makes me…”

“I know. Me too.” She admits, eyes never breaking away from Shawn’s as he begins to gnaw his bottom lip in contemplation.

“Usually I like to plan out everything I do, but I really, really hate waiting to do this.”

“Then don’t wait, Peter. Just say it.” Shawn felt a tingle of guilt run up his arm when Julia placed her hand on his shoulder. His younger brother was going to be in dire need of an update on his love life later.

“Okay, erm…Julia, will you go out with me?” Before Shawn even finished the question, her arms were taught around his neck with the smaller girl squealing “yes” excitedly into his chest and hop-scotching her feet against the café floor.

“Dude calm down! She said yes.” Shawn informs. “She wants to go out with you!” He cheers, reaching out from his beanbag chair to give Peter’s shoulder an encouraging jostle with a grin.

“No, you don’t understand! I-I’m way too nervous, I can barely talk to her half the time. I’m going to make a complete fool of myself.” Peter wails, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Hang on, you’re telling me she thought you were Peter?” Aryn scoffs, pointing between the two boys. “I don’t believe that.” She gives a firm shake of her head.

“Um, and why not?” Shawn inquires, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, babe, I mean they call us identical for a reason,” Raul interjects, turning to face his girlfriend.

“You guys don’t resemble one another at all! I could tell you guys apart with my eyes closed.” She mimics Shawn’s cross of the arms, sending a challenging look in each of their directions. “Well, that’s only because you’ve known us for so long,” Peter replies, now devoted to arguing this theory with his brother’s girlfriend.

“And you see and hang out with us all of the time.” Raul continues. This earns a challenging raise of your eyebrows in his direction, making him clear his throat and begin rubbing her side up and down in comfort with his large palm. “Not-not that that’s a bad thing…honey.” She rolls her eyes at his “save” and turns her attention back to the original instigator, Shawn.

“All I’m saying is, you guys aren’t as alike as you seem.”

“Um, guys?” Peter’s voice rising in volume was enough to break the argument. “Can we focus on the fact that there’s a girl I can barely talk properly around expecting some phenomenal date…when are we going out?”

“Friday at seven.”

“This Friday?” Peter squeaks. “That’s—that’s three days away…how am I going to—”

“Shhh…relax.” Shawn comes to stand before Peter, taking him by the shoulders. “We’ll help you plan something, right gu—” As Shawn turns his head to receive words of comfort from Raul and Aryn, the two brothers are instead met with the door separating the two rooms slamming shut and the sounds of the couple’s flirty giggles.

“Oh no, guys that’s my bed! Wait—” Peter wriggles himself away from Shawn’s grip and charges for the door. His frenzied hand wraps around the door handle and jiggles furiously. To his misfortune, they were clever enough to turn the lock on the door. Peter groans helplessly and walks over to flop down face-first in the beanbag Shawn was previously occupying. He is still in shock that his brother got to experience the feeling of holding Julia before he was given the opportunity. He wanted to feel her face digging into his collarbone and become victim to the chokehold her arms would put him in from her eagerness about the date, or new books, or acing yet another economics test.

“You owe me a hug.” He mumbles into the fabric, earning a bewildered look from Shawn from across the room.

-------

“Do you ever get tired of words?” Her stare moves from the crossword puzzle sat on her lap toward the direction of the acquainted voice. A smile crawls onto her lips as he continues approaching the bench, she made herself comfortable on close to fifteen minutes ago, and she thinks back to the day before at the coffee shop on campus. Automatically, the blood rushes upwards to the sides of her face before further words could be exchanged.

“Never,” Julia replies seconds later with a smile and scoots to make room for the long-legged boy to sit beside her. He takes the invitation gratefully and plops himself down beside her.

“So…”

“So…” She mocks, physically feeling the wall of tension climbing to separate the two of them. There was something about how Peter presented himself yesterday that gave her some sort of confidence boost. She noticed him from afar and did not question her actions for one second during her entire march into the store, nor when she took her standing behind him.

“This was so much easier, yesterday. I don’t understand…” She shakes her head, earning a sideways look from Peter. A lightbulb illuminates in her brain, blessed with an idea that needed no involvement in confronting Peter's nerves. She turns to face him with a stern tone. “Take off your glasses.”

“What?”

“Just trust me, okay?” Without further objections, Peter unleashes a breath and reaches up to remove the framed spectacles from his face. Upon doing so, all of the world clarity washes away and the only thing making him aware of Julia’s presence was the glowing, strawberry-blonde aura framing her figure.

“How do I look?” She inquires.

“Blurry.” He replies with a small pout, folding the temples of the glasses over one another. “What about me?”

Julia chuckles, tilting her head to absorb the view of him without his usual accessory. “Well, your eyes look smaller, for one thing…but I don’t mind.”

“No?” Peter makes out a vague movement in front of him.

“I can actually see your eye color without reflections blocking it.” Peter shivers when her warm palm makes contact with his cheek. He makes out the faint smell of perfume wafting from her wrist and inhales deeply, feeling the warmth spread about his system. She brushes the soft pad of her thumb around the perimeter of his eyes, whispering to herself, “they’re like gold.” Her eyes travel down his features, noticing a small nick on the bridge of his nose that she does not recall being there yesterday. His lips were parted lightly from her ministrations and his body was patiently awaiting her next move. The sight of his folded glasses, secure in his palm, cues another lightbulb to flicker on in her head.

“May I?” She requests, cloaking Peter’s hand with her own. Though her eyes resembled two, jade crystals lacking clarity, he could picture the longing gaze they held within them. He relinquished the grip on his frames and feels her fingertips glide along his palm as they grasp the pair of glasses. She is quick to set the spectacles over her own eyes, and the fuzzy sight of frames surrounding her eyes makes Peter smile viscously.

“Now you look blurry,” Julia says with a smile. Peter realizes now why the lack of sight took away so much of the vulnerability. The reactions of either of them would be difficult to decipher and all the more comforting for both of them.

“You look beautiful.” His reply sends blood to both of their cheeks, but neither acknowledges it.

“Says the guy who can’t even see.” She mutters in response, turning her face down.

“May I?” Peter repeats her earlier question and carefully situates the frames back onto the bridge of his nose. “Well, I stand corrected.” Julia lifts her head. “You are strikingly gorgeous.” This earned him a small scoff and light shove against his shoulder.

“I was about to head to the library to turn in some books…would you like to join me?” She stood from the bench and slung the hefty tote over her shoulder.

“Wait you just give away all your books to the library?” Peter's brows furrow.

"Just the ones I've finished reading." Julia elucidates, but Peter's puzzlement is unchanging.

"Why? You could sell them or keep them..." Julia begins giggling lightly at the man before her. His bottom lip jutted out as she had just stolen a piece of candy from his grasp as the occasional breeze traveled through his curls. Part of his furrowed brows was being shielded by his glasses, and he could not appear more adorable in the girl's eyes.

"I don't need the money, and I wouldn't have the space to keep all of the books I get. Besides," she shrugs, "someone will probably be interested in one of them and want to read it."

"Like the other night...when I was reading--"

"Space Wonders." They finish together. Julia sending him an approving nod.

"Exactly."

"Was that one of yours too?"

"Well, technically my little brother's." She corrects in a small voice. "So, you comin' or what?"

"I'd be honored," Peter answers, laying his open hand against the middle of his test. Julia simply rolls her eyes and grabs his dangling hand with her's without a second thought. The warm contact draws sharp breaths from both of them, but Peter did not oppose the feeling. Rather, he laced their fingers together and spared the girl a small smile.

She smiles and orders him "come on," before leading the way to her favorite building. Seeing her eager smile growing with each sound of her foot hitting the pavement; how she swayed their arms back and forth violently in her excitement, flourishing to the point where it was impossible to hide and elevated the moment their feet were planted to the library's entrance. Peter stood certain that it was his favorite building too.

He held the door ajar for her keen figure to leap through and drag him along to the front desk. There was a small sign instructing to ring the small bell sat on the desk to alert one of the workers. Julia obeyed and tapped the small notch with the tip of her pointer finger, allowing a melodious ding to swell in the quiet vicinity.

"One minute," The voice of the desk woman calls from a back room. Various shuffling noises are heard, and Peter took a chance at the pause to turn to Julia and ask, "what's your little brother's name?"

Her body froze, lips divided with no words exiting. She was caught off guard by the abrupt questioning but should have expected it. Of course, Peter was curious about her sibling. It was one of the few things he knew about Julia that she told him personally. It was something they shared in common, more importantly. Knowing Peter's stubborn manner, or at least being exposed to it, Julia knew the subject would not be dropped until first being acknowledged.

Fortunately, their conversation was intercepted when the front desk woman waddled from the back room. A broad smile, similar to the one she held a few days prior at Julia and Peter's last library visit, climbed onto her face. She squinted her eyes in joy at the tote bag Julia adjusted to stand erect on the desk and looked up to the young students, baring her crows' feet to them.

"Thank you, sweetheart. How are the new ones?" The immediate questioning breaks Julia from her catatonic stance and into a fit of laughs instead.

"I just got them, Phyllis. Don't be so impatient."

"We both know you've got the eyes of a speed-reader." The woman remarks, removing the library's new contenders from the bag.

"I've just been...busy." She and Peter turned to each other at the same time, locking eyes with one another and revealing sweet smiles. Phyllis does not take notice, too engrossed with her newest collection of paperback beauties.

"You're never too busy for books, child! You told me once your heart couldn't fit anything else if it tried."

"I don't know," she lowers her gaze to Peter's large hand encompassing hers, "maybe it had a growth spurt."

-------

The night following their trip to the library, Peter pulled his car outside of the entrance to Dixon hall and was furiously tapping his hands against the steering wheel. The suit jacket and white button-up beneath it were hugging his arms in all the wrong places, making the need to shed himself of it grow impossibly larger. The vehicle’s air conditioning was fixed to its highest setting, yet he still felt perspiration building against his forehead and hairline. He would have mistaken the red tie for a boa constrictor the way it was cemented around his neck, had he not known exactly what he was doing in a suit in the first place. The scheme all triplets were confronted about took place at a friend’s apartment only one hour prior but was debriefed at a much more leisurely pace than Peter felt confident about. He barely scurried out of the complex with his keys in time and screeched to a halt two minutes before his and Julia’s scheduled meeting time. He had sent Julia a message, announcing his arrival upon shifting the gear to park. The green numbers on the car’s radio stared back at him dauntingly, begging him to try to make the quick change before she exited the building. In any other scenario, which did not involve 'Julia' and 'first date' in the same sentence, he would have stripped himself of elegant clothing without hesitation. But he waited a few moments instead, glancing around warily in fear of late-night, wandering students. When no figures were seen to arise suspicion in him, he heaved a large breath of air and quickly shrugged himself from the dark jacket, making quick work of the crimson tie and transparent buttons lining the front of the shirt.

After detaching himself from the entire top half of the outfit, his shirtless figure reached into the car’s backseat for a supplementary hoodie. I knew this would come in handy one day, he thinks to himself. Upon pulling it over his head, his vision was temporarily obstructed by the cloth, but his ears perked at the sound of the passenger’s side door opening and a light gasp. He tugged the remainder of the top down to cover his front half and face a blushing Julia, who just witnessed his changing.

“I’m so sorry.” She says quietly, covering her face.

“It’s okay.”

“I didn’t know you were—”

“It’s--.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Julia,” she looks up from her hands, feeling her face burning with humiliation. “I promise, it’s okay.” He was blushing quite obviously with her, but the comforting tone of voice he offered her did well to pacify the somersaults her insides were performing relentlessly.

“Can I ask?”

“It’s a long story,” the boy sighs and runs a hand through his gelled curls. She shakes her head and resumes swinging open the passenger door, sliding herself into her seat. The small light from the radio illuminated her profile, disclosing her bloodshot eyes and shaky breathing she seemed to still have difficulty steadying. Peter knew these reactions could not be sourced from what had just transpired between him, but he did not know if it was worth starting small talk and asking if she was okay when she did not appear as though she was. Deciphering not to acknowledge it, he simply reached for the knob to turn on the soothing pop playing from the local station and begin the drive to the destination of their outing.

“Where are we going again?” Julia croaks, voice dipping and rising arbitrarily. It made Peter’s heart tense and give his throat the same constrictive feeling. His hands gripped the wheel tighter as he attempted to ramp up the lightheartedness of his voice, in hopes, she would contract some of the emotion from him like she did nervous flutters.

“Well, you’ve let me experience what makes you happy. I figured it’s only fair I reciprocate.” He makes a turn onto a road unfamiliar to Julia’s eyes. The puffy pair of orbs gazed ponderously at the line of trees fortifying each side of the barren, dirt road.

“And that would be…” Her voice trails, beckoning an answer. Peter’s lips just quirk up as he answers with an enigmatic, “you’ll see.”

When his car approached the clearing and came to a steady break, he turned to Julia expectantly. She was already staring back at him, a teasing smile tugging the corners of her notably, chapped lips. “Peter, you know jumping off a cliff because your friends do is just an expression.”

He chuckles and pretends not to view the red lines surrounding her pupils. But the emerald eyes, like beacons facing him only, aided to make the red stand out more.

“Stargazing?” She guesses before he could answer for her.

“The sky’s going to be so clear of clouds tonight we’ll be able to see Venus. And maybe Mercury, if we’re lucky.”

“I feel pretty lucky to be here tonight, I don’t know about you.” She replies. An adoring smile stretches on Peter’s lips as he feels the warmth subdue his insides again, and the sensation of her hand entering his own and squeezing it.

Minutes later, they were sat on the hood of his car with a blanket sprawled over there bodies. While their hands were laced together, that was the most contact either felt comfortable with at the moment. They stared up in silence, Peter breaking it to point out any various constellations he could discern in the twinkling sky. When he broke it another time, what he inquired startled the girl beside him.

“What did you say your little brother’s name was?”

Her voice wavered in her answer, and she shifted her body slightly against the vehicle. “Uh…Ch-Charlie.” Peter glanced down to see her lips pressed against each other in a line.

“Julia…”

“It was his anniversary today…” Her eyes fell closed, her forehead clenching in attempts to disguise the sadness which had been building on her features all night. “I-I’m so sorry Peter I wanted to tell you…”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” She shook her head furiously back and forth. “B-because I even forgot today. All I could focus on was our date and I didn’t even realize what day it was until I checked the calendar and…I felt so guilty. I-I feel selfish.”

“Don’t be. You could have canceled, I wouldn’t have felt bad.”

“But I would’ve.” Her voice was blubbering and strained as she rested a hand to her chest. “It would have been so last-minute and-and I hate being the bearer of bad news. I couldn’t…and I thought I could keep it together…”

“You don’t need to. Come here.” His hand leaves hers to extend his arms to fit her frame, and Julia wastes no time falling into his comforting hold. She soaked the cotton hoodie with her tears, clenching it tight against her fist while Peter ensured to embrace her even tighter. “I don’t want to speak for your brother…but I imagine he’s proud of you. He’s watching over us right now, I’m sure of it.”

Julia removes her head from his hoodie-clad torso, forcing a laugh as she swipes at her leaking eyes. “You think?” Her scratchy voice asks. Peter only smirks and juts a finger to the open sky.

“My mom always said to always look out for the brightest stars, because they’re the most important.” Both move their eyes away from each other’s gazes and transfix them onto Venus, who was glinting back at them in all its beauty. Julia was caught in a trance for a few moments, absorbing the sight. And while the planet did hold a glorious brightness, Peter’s certain the sparkle reflected in her eye’s was lighter.

“Thanks, Peter.” She turns to him, chest rising and falling with slow breaths. “I needed that.”

“Of course,” he delivers a sincere nod, before sitting up and sliding off of the hood. “Now, onto the actual surprise.” Julia perks up also, staring at him puzzled.

“What?”

“Oh come on, you didn’t think I just brought you here to stare at the stars. I had to make it fun for both of us.” He rolls his eyes and opens the door to the car’s backseat, screening himself from Julia’s view.

“But I was having fun!” She insists, further curling herself into the blanket due to the recent absence of warmth.

“Well, then you’re going to have a field day when I show you what I got!” Peter exclaims. The sound of a door shutting is heard, and he quickly shuffles to situate himself beside Julia. She turns to peek behind his back, where his hand was hidden with what she presumes to be the so-called “real surprise” she would “have a field day” over.

“What you got there, Mendes?” She asks, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Oh, only the book you got grounded a week over and never got to finish…” He nonchalantly reveals the hardcover novel with a sly grin. Julia’s eyes bulged as she marveled the cover, now looking all too familiar in her vision.

“Wha—I—how did you…?”

“For a girl who’s on a first-name basis with the librarian I’m surprised you never asked her about the book.” That was Peter’s first hunting site when he demanded over his and Julia’s string of text messages for her to recount everything she remembers about the legendary lost book. She shared any pieces of lines or quotes she could remember, character names, an estimated number of pages. But no details stuck out to Peter in particular, therefore, Phyllis was the only reliable source he could contact quickly for the information.

“She knew?” Her eyes grew wider in disbelief.

His lips twitched slightly downward. “Not exactly.” He described his quest to the library to Julia, and the desperate pleas in his voice for Phyllis to find the book after an internet search resulted in no contenders. The book sounded as foreign to the woman as it did Peter, which left the boy hopeless in despair and Phyllis shrugging, saying he could search the non-fiction sections as much as he would like before the library locked their doors.

“Peter,” Julia gasps, “that library’s like, six levels!”

“Yeah, but a good third of it was educational stuff. You’d be surprised at how scant their non-fiction section is, honestly. How did you not find it before?” This earns him a small smack to his torso, very much guarded by the hoodie, and barely felt due to the playfulness in Julia’s physical anger. Afterward, though, she kept her hand there and peered up into his eyes with a lovesick stare. Whether or not this night led to further rendezvous—and lord, she hoped it did—she would be eternally grateful for the trouble Peter went through to scout this book out.

“Alright, enough staring! You have the book now!” Peter cheers with a chuckle. She laughs along with him and returns her eyes to the long-lost treasure in his secure grip. When she reaches out for it, Peter stops her and pulls the book away. He takes his free hand to rest against her warm cheek, grazing his thumb just below her tired eyes.

“Your eyes have done enough work for the day.” He states. “Let me.” With this, he takes a reading light resting behind him and clips it to the back of the book, turning it on.

“Alright,” he begins flicking pages rapidly to near the end. “You said the last three chapters?”

Julia hums, “start from the beginning,” and places her head onto his shoulder. The stars teeter in the sky and ogle at the couple below them, who were too busy being transported to a different world. “I don’t want to forget a single thing about this.” Peter considers her words held a second meaning to them but did not want to keep her waiting long. So, he stores the question in the back of his mind, for another day, and opts for flipping back to one of the first pages sewn to the book’s spine as the lady requested.

He begins reading aloud, filling the silent clearing with noise once more. “The sky has a peculiar way of being relative to everyone…”

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hearthandhomemagick · 3 years

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Cottage Witch Journal Entry

I have a longing for Tennessee.

I have a pure, unadulterated and wild attraction to the Tennessee Mountains. This is a dream I’ve had, and a yearning I’ve felt, for years. A need to be hidden deep in the mountains in a tiny cottage/cabin of sorts. I’m sure this is an affinity very popular in mainstream culture today, and all I can think of when I hear people say they want a cottage or cabin in the mountains is, “How the Hell does everyone expect to FIT on these mountains?!” But, this is my Shadow Self, the over realistic and overthinking side of myself. And I easily get discouraged from my own wants thinking of others wants.

This is a side of me to notice in myself. I need to be able to move past thoughts of, “If everyone wants it, I’ll never have it.” and move forward with thoughts of, “This is something I want for myself, and I deserve to work hard for it.” And that’s a goal I have with myself.

You see, this post isn’t just about my want to be in Tennessee in the woods, it’s much deeper than that I feel. It’s about improvement and wanting to grow.

I bring up Tennessee because that is not a goal I can easily obtain within a couple of weeks or even a month. But, it is something I want to build up to obtaining. Something I want to do right so that everything is exactly as it needs to be. And I can’t fully accomplish this until I accomplish other goals that take precedent first. For Example, my physical health.

As a witch, I truly believe in loving every part of yourself, the good and the bad. The exciting and the terrifying. The understood and the neglected. Part of this acceptance process is learning what is and is not acceptable for my body. Now, I have struggled with my weight and how I see myself since I was a child. I remember a little boy seeing my tummy in a bathing suit in 1st grade and him telling me I was fat and that his dad said fat girls were ugly. Comments like this, stares and whispers were constant when in regards to my weight. It felt like an overwhelming amount of attention was directed at the way I looked, even if no one was looking at me I felt as though everyone was thinking about it. Over the years, this mental state took a tole on a lot more than I expected, even affecting me today with my Significant Other. The consistent attention to my own weight pulled me into depression, our of depression, into anxiety and out of anxiety. What I mean is I had an up and down relationship with my tummy.

I felt abandoned most days. I would get this idea that I was too much and not enough all at once. A gentle and cooing tone from my toxic thoughts led to a lot of issues and concerns for me and my health. Some days, I would read something that made me feel as though I was a Queen. A bad bitch lurking in this cruel world and taking it by the throat to stare it in the eyes and say, “I love my body fat.”

The sad part is your heart, mind and body know when you are lying to it. I didn’t love my body. Not in those confident moments and not in those depressed moments. I was locked away in a cage in my mind that gave me two illusions to choose from, while hiding my third option under the rug. I neglected my feelings because I didn’t want to experience them. I neglected my health because I didn’t want to deal with it. And I neglected my body because I hated it.

Reality here is that this is the only fucking body I have. Do you understand that? Let me repeat this so maybe you can understand how harsh of a reality this was to me.

I am on this Earth for goodness knows how long. 50 years, 20 years, 72 days. I don’t know, and no one does. I was literally forced into owning this body, whether I like it or not, it is mine. I can move houses, I can get a new car, I can get a new job. I cannot get a new body.

I heard this in High School and started what I called my weight loss journey. I lost maybe 20 pounds while attending a workout-boot camp of sorts and trying to maintain a healthy diet. That sentence resonated so much with me that I repeated it every day to myself. My motivation was on point. Then, I stopped going. There are multiple reasons why I stopped, but none of them are rightful excuses.

I just stopped.

Now, during those days I had lost weight, I was starting to gain confidence in myself and was attempting to genuinely look out for my health. I had more energy and felt amazing! But like I said, I had stopped for terrible reasons.

Fast-forward to college and you will find a very anxiety filled, sleep deprived and mentally exhausted Carly. Some nights I wouldn’t sleep but for 4-5 hours. Other nights I didn’t sleep at all. I believe my stay up streak was 3, going on 4 nights. All due to homework. My coping technique has always been eating food, too. So when you have a sleep deprived student settled next to a 24/7 pizza joint with half baked cookies, you gain 30-40 pounds.

At 245 Pounds, I was at my heaviest. This weight gain came on as my roommates were saying I was fat, stupid and were making me question myself frequently. Self hate festers among others who don’t value your worth, remember that. So, through those years of college I weighed an uncomfortable amount of weight that made my body start shutting down physically.

Mental Health had a lot to do with my physical health, here as well. When I was in a really bad place, I would stop moving completely and just sit still. If I had a terrible feeling, I’d cook something to make myself feel better or would just grab a processed, quick snack. It was a pattern of mine. I’d get just enough motivation to do one or two things, and then I’d stop all together and feel as though that was enough for a few weeks.

Eventually, when I was done with college, I started back on that rollercoaster of healthy and unhealthy. I’d lose 5 pounds, then gain 7 pounds right back. I started detail critiquing myself and stressing myself out. My weight never could get under control, and I couldn’t break the 200 mark to save my life. I would see pictures and videos of myself and feel as though I had eaten an entire buffet. Not too long after getting with my S/O and starting my job as a Sexual Violence Outreach Advocate, I got sick.

It started as a birthday dinner at a Korean Barbecue in 2019. I was with my two best friends at the time and having a blast. We all ate the same food, but when I woke up the following morning I was throwing up everything in my tummy.

The throwing up went on for 4 days before I was taken to the hospital, only for them to release me saying it was virus. My personal doctor couldn’t figure out what was wrong and it eventually became an everyday thing. I would wake up between 3-6 in the morning, go to the bathroom and be sick for hours before pulling myself together to make it to work.

Weeks turned into months, and months turned into a year.

I lost 50 pounds from this thing that no doctor could seem to figure out. I got x-rays and everything, but nothing and no one could tell me exactly what was going on with me. I couldn’t eat anything friend, only raw fruits and veggies, or broth. I only drank water and ginger based drinks, and could not for the life of me stop what was going on with my body. Many doctors tried to pass it as a virus, stomach ulcers, GURD, or even Heart Burn (?). None of them were right.

After a long time, my mom finally confessed that every woman in our family has Endometriosis. If you don’t know what this is, it is the build up of scar tissue on the outside of your uterus. This leads to nausea, ovarian cysts (which they found on me in x-rays) and sub or infertility. No doctor can diagnose it, either, unless you have a surgery to see if there is scarring. So for many, suffering on your own is easier than seeing a doctor.

I discussed this with my doctor, and it was as if a light flashed in her brain. This is a disease she cannot say I have, but can say it sounds very much like that. It is hereditary and once you have it, you have it for good.

After this information entered my line of though, I decided the stress from my job was too much for too little pay, and chose to leave. Leading up to my leaving the job, I was sick almost every second of every day. The moment I left, I felt better.

I still feel pain in my ovary area, but because I don’t have the money to see a doctor, and can control my pains with eating habits and physical influence, I choose to work through it alone.

I said ALL THAT BACKGROUND BULLSHIT JUST TO SAY THIS!!!!!

This is the part that marks my new journey. It is the Journey to Strength and Well Being. The Journey to Feeling Good. The Journey the Choosing my happiness over anything else. And the Journey to choosing the health of my body over my insecurities.

I wrote this because a couple of days ago I had a very graphic and vivid dream about my boyfriend falling in love with the woman I wanted to be. In other words, I seen him with a woman who literally presented all of my insecurities to me. Small, lithe and dainty, gentle and calming, and everything I wasn’t. She was beautiful. And he seen this, and did things for her that he never did for me. I woke up almost in tears, because my emotions were raw, but I had no idea that my insecurities were still very deeply rooted.

I pondered over the last few days of this dream. What it could mean, what I should do, how I should feel and I have finally come to a conclusion.

This dream is a depiction of my fears. My brain was saying, “You need to address this shit right now.” and did it in the most face slap kind of way I could think.

I still, even after learning to love myself genuinely, have image issues that need to be nurtured and tended to before I can move forward in my life.

So, I’m making 1-3 goals every month that are attainable and reachable. This will be a brick road to my obtaining that cottage/cabin in the Tennessee Mountains.

This months Goals start today!

GOAL 1 - Learn to do a split, find a healthy yoga sequence, be able to do 15 pushups, & 30 Squats by the end of December.

GOAL 2 - Make a conscious effort to what you eat/making a new dish once a week to try.

GOAL 3 - Save $100.

This is a process, and I am only human. I don’t want to fall back into the habits of toxic mentality. I don’t want to neglect myself or how I feel and I don’t want to lose myself in to the world in the process of searching for freedom from myself.

I expect myself to exude self control, self love, and empowerment. I expect to expect better from and for myself, and I expect to accomplish my goals.

I manifest it here, I can do a split. I have a healthy maintainable yoga sequence that I have committed to growing expanding and changing. I can do 15 push ups and 30 squats. I have 100 dollars saved up already and make concious decisions that better my health rather than hurt it. This is part of my lifstyle now!

And it is for the better!

Thank you to anyone who read this through. These entries are more for my benefit and thought process, but appreciate anyone who recognizes it or even relates and wants to talk about it. It’s personal to me and means a lot. I intend on being on here more often to update my challenges and express how I use my witchcraft in the process of this Journey.

I love you all! Stay safe, warm and full to the brim! Later Witches! xx

#yule #witch #witchcraft #thinspo #healthy #yoga #workout #food #meal #habit #mentalhealth #comfort #hygge #cute #fun #craft #magic #magick #happy #storyline #witchjournal #journal #writing #creative

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sheliesshattered · 4 years

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This Isn’t A Ghost Story extras for Chapter 6: The Future

Chapter 6 of This Isn’t A Ghost Story has been posted! You can find it here on Tumblr, or here on AO3. Spoiler-ish extras under the cut!

With chapter 6 under our belts, we’ve made it through the main portion of this fic! The next two chapters will wrap up a few loose ends -- and possibly create a couple more, of the open-ended variety -- and if I hadn’t gotten quite so deep into the world-building for this, I might have actually ended the story here. All the research I did for the world-building directly inspired the next two chapters, which were both written and finished before I had anything more than a basic sketch in place for chapter 6.

Egyptology in the 1920s has clearly been a huge part of the world-building for this story from the beginning, and we get a bit more of it in chapter 6. The Doctor mentioned Howard Carter briefly in chapter 5, and here we loop back around to that and find out that Clara and the Doctor knew Carter well. I didn’t want to derail the chapter too much with talking about their friendship in any detail, but large portions of the timeline of when they were in Egypt in the 1920s was built around the historical events of the discovery and documentation of Tutankhamun’s tomb, and there are a few passing allusions to it in the journal entries in chapter 3 as well.

Howard Carter (pictured above in 1924) and his team of excavators found the entrance to Tutankhamun’s tomb in November of 1922, which would have been during the phase when Clara and the Doctor are exchanging letters and falling in love. One little historical detail that I sadly couldn’t quite use was that 23 November 1922 was actually a date of minor significance in the discovery of the tomb. It was the day that Carter’s financier, Lord Carnarvon, arrived at the dig site to witness the opening of the tomb, along with his daughter Lady Evelyn Herbert, who would have been about a year and a half younger than Clara. This picture of the three of them was taken at the entrance of the tomb in late 1922, and is similar to how I imagine Clara and the Doctor’s picture with Carter would have looked:

As the tomb was being excavated, Carter and Carnarvon assembled a team of experts to help with the huge task of cataloging, preserving, and translating all the many items found in the tomb, and though I never called it out specifically in This Isn’t A Ghost Story, I figure the Doctor was part of that team, probably specifically focused on translation work. In late February 1923, there was a short halt in the excavation that lasted a few weeks, which was what led, in our fictionalized version of events, to the Doctor briefly returning to Glasgow, and Clara’s impulsive decision to follow him there. After their wedding in May of ‘23, Clara and the Doctor went directly to Egypt, and the Doctor returned to work on Carter’s team.

Family members, tourists, and the press were all known to visit the dig site during that first year of excavation and the resulting media craze:

Given that, and Clara and the Doctor being ‘disgustingly in love newlyweds’ it seemed reasonable that Clara would have visited the site at least a few times, and been on good terms with Howard Carter. Carter actually got his start in Egyptology when he was hired as a young man to paint reproductions of ancient temple walls and other Egyptian artifacts:

During the excavation of Tutankhamun’s tomb, he made detailed sketches, including careful measurements, of every item removed from the tomb and where it had originally be found in the tomb. Much of what we know about King Tut’s tomb now is down to how methodical Carter was in documenting the original untouched state of the tomb, both with measurements, drawings, and photography. These are both drawings Carter did of the tomb during that period:

Chapter 3 mentions that Clara decided to learn to draw in the summer of 1923, so I liked the little detail that it was Howard Carter, with his meticulous and beautiful art, that suggested she take up the hobby. Modern Clara also notes in passing that she drew all throughout her childhood, particularly her ghost, which all connects back to those early days of their marriage in 1923.

I’ve got more up my sleeve about the world-building elements for the next two chapters, but since chapter 6 was the last chapter I finished, long after chapters 7 and 8 were done, I thought I’d talk a bit about the writing process as well. The final scenes I wrote for the entire story were near the end of chapter 6, and despite knowing what I needed this chapter to do, what needed to be in place to set up chapters 7 and 8, chapter 6 gave me a bit of trouble along the way.

I imagined this chapter in a lot of different ways as the story was evolving, but I always knew I wanted to emphasize the possibility of future travels for Clara and the Doctor. The theme of ‘101 Places To See’ is so strong in canon that echoing it for 1920s Clara was a big part of my world-building from the beginning, and I felt like any version of a happy ending for Clara and the Doctor had to include travel. An early draft of this chapter ended on Clara’s final line from Mummy On The Orient Express, ‘Then what are you waiting for? Let's go.’ to help emphasize that travel theme -- and because I can never resist borrowing a line from canon whenever I can find an excuse.

Another early sketch for this chapter had Clara and the Doctor venturing out for grocery shopping, with the Doctor complaining up a storm while Clara tried to carry on a conversation with him without any strangers taking note of it. Originally I had planned to include more of Clara’s work week, and had scenes roughed in where her friend and fellow teacher Amy Pond found out that Clara had gotten “engaged” over the weekend, leading Clara to have to make up something on the spot about how she’d been in a long-distance relationship that had only recently turned serious, which was why Amy had never met him. There was a whole thing about how Clara and Amy (who taught ancient world history) were co-directing Coal Hill’s production of Antony And Cleopatra, and Amy wanting to make sure that Clara wasn’t going to run off to see the world with her new fiance before the night of the play. Eventually that all got boiled down to just a single exchange between Clara and the Doctor, as I decided to keep the focus tight in on the two of them and their relationship, and not even include dialogue from any other characters.

One thing that comes up again and again in my writing projects is that when I’m imagining the plotline early in the process, it always takes up a lot more calendar days than the final product does. I imagine events taking place over the course of weeks, but then find that the emotional flow works much better condensed down to a handful of days instead. Despite my stories following that same pattern in development for more than a decade now, it somehow always seems to surprise me, lol.

Really early on in working on Ghost Story, I knew I wanted to keep Clara’s canonical birthdate of 23 November 1986 and build the rest of the timeline around that, and I picked out November 2014 as the time period for the main part of the story because it corresponds roughly to when the end of s8 of the show originally aired. But in a very early outline of events, Clara didn’t have the nightmare that led to her memories coming back until the night of her birthday, a full week later from what ended up happening in this final version.

Even as recently as a few weeks ago, I was still planning on ending this chapter on her birthday, and it wasn’t until I started digging into the scene by scene and line by line breakdown of the chapter that I realized that it really wasn’t necessary. And leaving her birthday as an upcoming event folded in nicely with the ‘Future’ theme I wanted for this chapter, so again I decided to keep the focus tight on Clara and the Doctor’s relationship as they unravel the mystery and deal with the fallout of what happened in 1927.

Figuring out what I actually wanted to happen this chapter versus what could be left on the cutting-room floor, as they say, was a huge part of the final phase of writing This Isn’t A Ghost Story. Once I had cut out extraneous scenes and meandering plot tangents (and poor Amy Pond), I was left with a very specific list of scenes and conversations, and I wrote them much the same way I write everything, jumping around to a given scene as dialogue or internal monologue occurs to me. To me it always feels like putting together a large jigsaw puzzle, filling in holes and connecting up pieces as the puzzle comes together.

I find that technique works really well for me when I’m in early and mid development of a story, but once I was down to just a couple of scenes that still needed written, progress slowed way down. I got to the point where I knew the emotional content of a scene and even most of the dialogue, and needed just a little bit of stage direction to stitch the whole thing together. Those of you who have been following along with my #process thoughts posts here may remember me posting about working on that last scene just a couple of weeks ago, trying to wrestle it into shape.

@tounknowndestinations, @praetyger, and a few others of you have asked about it, and I can now reveal that the very last bit to get written was the sequence with Clara preparing for bed and then the two of them getting into bed. I had the awkward sex conversation and the final scene the next morning already written, I just had to connect the first part of the chapter up with those last scenes. I’m happy with how it eventually came together -- and very curious to hear if any of you could pick out that that was the last bit written? -- but not having the option to work on anything else, just those specific words in that specific place, made it more of a struggle for me than writing most of the rest of Ghost Story.

My husband and beta reader Jack was more involved with the editing of this chapter than he was with any of the other chapters, and in several places helped me rewrite individual lines or conversation beats until we were both happy with how they read. @praetyger asked how I know when writing is ‘done’, and I have to admit it’s mostly a process of reading it over and over again, and then getting Jack to read it and taking his feedback seriously. I tend towards overly long run-on sentences, so if Jack gets lost while reading a sentence, that’s one he’ll call out as needing to be reworded for clarity.

There’s one sentence in this chapter that we went back and forth over quite a lot: ‘The feeling of what might have been that seeing their wedding photo had elicited in her wasn’t some strange, misplaced jealousy, but rather the knowledge she carried deep in her soul, buried in her subconscious, that their story wasn’t over yet.’ It was originally even more wordy, and Jack would have preferred the final version be a lot more simple, but it just didn’t read right to me without ‘elicited’ so I stuck to my guns on that bit, even as I filed down some of the wordiness in other parts of the sentence.

Both for reworking a sentence and for writing big sections in the first place, my method is generally to write it and edit a little as I go, trying to get the word choice and pacing as close to what I want as I can on a first pass. Then I’ll let it sit, at the very least overnight but often for days or longer at a time, then come back and reread it when it isn’t so fresh in my mind. At that point, sometimes a phrase will jump at me as awkward or something I used just a paragraph or two earlier, so I’ll rewrite it, let it sit, come back and edit it all over again. Sometimes what seemed like plenty of room for an emotional beat when I was writing it will go by way too fast when I reread it, so I’ll add to it, give it space to breathe. Rinse and repeat.

For the record, Jack’s favorite line from this chapter is this bit of dialogue for the Doctor: ‘“Yes,” he allowed warily, clearly not sure where she was going with this.’ I imagine it’s probably for similar reasons as why he liked the ‘she didn’t add again but knew they were both thinking it’ bit from chapter 5. I try not to put my own marriage into my writing too much, but there are some experiences of being married that I think are probably pretty universal.

@ephemeralhologram asked about my writing inspiration, and for me my writing is always driven by a kernel of a what-if idea and a desire to convey a certain emotion. I almost always start out with a ‘plotbunny’ idea, some tiny thing that I daydream about and consider from multiple angles until a plot and emotional tone starts coming into focus.

For Ghost Story, it was actually a shitpost here on Tumblr about a real estate agent having a conversation with the ghost who haunts the house they’re trying to sell, along with wanting to try telling a Twelve/Clara story in an alternate universe completely separate from the show canon, which I had never done before Ghost Story. The emotional tone started out much sillier, more in line with that Tumblr post, but as I got into the world-building and decided I wanted to have a mystery and mutual pining at the center of this story, the tone shifted quite a lot.

The other major drivers of writing inspiration for me are that I enjoy putting words together into interesting and emotionally evocative combinations, and I enjoy conveying character emotion and eliciting emotion in the reader. No matter what fandom I’m writing in, no matter how close to canon or how AU, how short or long the story is, those two things are always at the center of my writing.

I walk around the house or do chores that I don’t have to focus on too much (dishes are excellent for this) just tossing around bits of dialogue in my head until I find an emotional beat that grabs me or a bit of phrasing that I really like. I jot those down into a googledoc -- most of my DW stories start out in a doc called “Doctor Who Bits” that is in fact just fragments of multiple stories, and then eventually a story will graduate into having its own dedicated googledoc. Figuring out the plot is just as much about deciding on the emotional journey I want to take the characters and/or the readers on as it is deciding on an order of events.

Thank you to @tounknowndestinations, @ephemeralhologram, and @praetyger for the questions! I am more than happy to answer any questions about my writing process or details about this story, or anything really, so feel free to hit me up in my ask, or in the comments on this post, or in a comment over on AO3. Thank you to everyone who has followed along with this story, and for all the support and encouragement you’ve offered along the way, I couldn’t have written this story without this wonderful little corner of the Whouffaldi fandom! ❤️

Extras for Chapter 7: The Museum

#This Isn't A Ghost Story #This Isn't A Ghost Story extras #process thoughts #my writing #Doctor Who #Doctor Who fanfic #Clara and the Doctor

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maximelebled · 3 years

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2019 & 2020

Hello everyone! So yeah, this yearly blog post is about three... four months late... it covers two years now.

I did have a lot of things written last year, last time, but the more things have changed, the more I’ve realized that a lot of things I talked about on here... were because I lacked enough of a social life to want to open up on here.

In a less awkwardly-phrased way, what I’m saying is, I was coping.

Not an easy thing to admit to in public by any means, but I reckon it’s the truth. Over the past two years, I’ve made more of an effort to build better & healthier friendships, dial back my social media usage a bit (number 1 coping strategy), not tie all my friendships to games I play, especially Dota (number 2 coping strategy), so that I could be more emotionally healthy overall.

Pictured: me looking a whole lot like @dril on the outside, although not so much on the inside. (Photo by my lovely partner.)

To some degree, I believe it’s important to be able to talk about yourself a bit more openly in a way that is generally not encouraged nor made easy on other social networks (looking at you, Twitter). I know that 2010-me would be scared to approach 2020-me; and it’s my hope that what I am writing here would not help him with that, but also help him become less of an insecure dweeb faster. 😉

Not that recent accomplishments have stopped me from being any less professionally anxious. Sometimes the impostor syndrome just morphs into... something else.

Anyway, what I’m getting at is, the first reason it took me until this year to finish last year’s post is because, with my shift in perspective, and these realizations about myself, I do want to keep a lot more things private... or rather, it’s that I don’t feel the need to share them anymore? And that made figuring out what to write a fair bit harder.

The other reason I didn’t write sooner is because, in 2018, I wrote my "year in review” post right before I became able to talk about my then-latest cool thing (my work on Valve’s 2018 True Sight documentary). So I then knew I’d have to bring it up in the 2019 post. But then, I was asked to work on the 2019 True Sight documentary, and I know it was going to air in late January 2020, so I was like, “okay, well, whatever, it, I’ll just write this yearly recap after that, so I don’t miss the coach this time”. So I just ended up delaying it again until I was like... “okay, whatever, I’ll just do both 2019 and 2020 in a single post.”

I think I can say I’ve had the privilege of a pretty good 2019, all things considered. And also of a decent 2020, given the circumstances. Overall, 2019 was a year of professional fulfillment; here’s a photo taken of me while I was managing the augmented reality system at The International 2019! (The $35 million dollar Dota 2 tournament that was held, this that year, in Shanghai.)

If I’d shown this to myself 10 years ago it would’ve blown my mind, so I guess things aren’t all that bad...!

I’ve brought up two health topics in these posts before: weight & sleep.

As for the first, the situation is still stable. If it is improving, it is doing so at a snail’s pace. But quite frankly, I haven’t put in enough effort into it overall. Even though I know my diet is way better than it was five or six years ago, I’ve only just really caught up with the “how it should have been the entire time” stage. It is a milestone... but not necessarily an impressive one. Learning to cook better things for myself has been very rewarding and fulfilling, though. It’s definitely what I’d recommend if you need to find a place to start.

As for sleep, throughout 2019, I continued living 25-hour days for the most part. There were a few weeks during which I slowed down the process, but it continued on going. Then, in late December of 2019, motivated by the knowledge that sleep is such a foundational pillar of your health, I figured I really needed to take things seriously, and I managed to go on a three month streak of mostly-stable sleep! (See the data above.)

Part of what helped was willingly stopping to use my desktop computer once it got too late in the day, avoiding Dota at the end of the day as much as possible, and anything exciting for that matter... and, as much as that sounds like the worst possible stereotype, trying to “listen to my body” and recognizing when I was letting stress and anxiety build up inside me, and taking a break or trying to relax.

Also, a pill of melatonin before going to bed; but even though it’s allegedly not a problem to take melatonin, I figured I should try to rely on it as little as possible.

Unfortunately, that “good sleep” streak was abruptly stopped by a flu-like illness... it might have been Covid-19. The symptoms somewhat matched up, but I was lucky: they were very mild. I fully recovered in just over a week. I coughed a bit, but not that much. If it really was that disease, then I got very lucky.

(Pictured: another photo by my lovely SO, somewhere in Auvergne.)

My sleep continued to drift back to its 25-hour rhythm, and I only started resuming these efforts towards the fall... mostly because living during the night felt like a better option with the summer heat (no AC here). I thought about doing that the other way (getting up at 3am instead of going to bed at 7am), and while it’d make more sense temperature-wise, that would have kept me awake when there were practically no people online, and I was trying to have a better social life then, even if had to be purely online due to the coronavirus, so... yeah.

I’ve been working from home since 2012! I also lived alone for a number of years since then. For the most part, it hasn’t been a great thing for my mental health. Having had a taste of what being in an office was like thanks to a couple weeks in the Valve offices, I had the goal of beginning to apply at a few places here and there in March/April. Then the pandemic hit, so those plans are dead in the water. I wanted 2020 to be the year in which I’d finally stop being fully remote, but those plans are now dead in the water.

Now, at the end of the year, I don’t really know if I want to apply at any places. There’s a small handful of studios whose work really resonates with me, creatively speaking, and whose working conditions seem to be alright, at least from what I hear... but, and I swear I’m saying this in the least braggy way possible... there’s very little that beats having been able to work on what I want, when I want, and how much I want.

This kind of freelance status can be pretty terrifying sometimes, but I’ve managed (with some luck, of course) to reach a safe balance, a point at which I’ve effectively got this luxury of being able to only really work on what I want, and never truly overwork myself (at least by the standards of most of the gaming industry). It’s a big privilege and I feel like it’d take a lot to give it up.

Besides the things I mentioned before, one thing I did that drastically improved my mental health was being introduced to a new lovely group of friends by my partner! I started playing Dungeons & Dragons with them, every weekend or so! And in the spirit of a rising tide lifting all boats, I managed to also give back to our lovely DM, by being a sort of “AM” (audio manager)... It’s been great having something to look forward to every week.

Something to look forward to... I’ve heard about the concept of “temporal anchors”. I had heard about how the reason our adult years suddenly pass by in a blur is because we now have more “time” that’s already in our brains, but now I’m more convinced that it’s because we’re going from a very school routine such as the one schools impose upon us, to, well... practically nothing.

I thought most of my years since 2011 have been a blur, but none have whooshed by like 2020 has, and I reckon part of that is because I’ve (obviously) gone out far far less, and most importantly there wasn’t The Big Summer Event That The International Is, the biggest yearly “temporal anchor” at my disposal. The anticipation and release of those energies made summer feel a fair bit longer... and this year, summer was very much a blur for me. In and out like the wind.

I guess besides that, I haven’t really had that much trouble with being locked down. I had years of training for that, after all. Doesn’t feel like I can complain. 😛

(Pictured: trip to Chicago in January of 2019... right when the polar vortex hit!)

Work was good in 2019, and sparser in 2020. Working with Valve again after the 2018 True Sight was a very exciting opportunity. At the time, in February of 2019, I was out with my partner on little holiday trips around my region, and, after night fell, on the way back, we decided to stop in a wide open field, on a tiny countryside path, away from the cities, to try and do some star-gazing, without light pollution getting in the way.

And it’s there and then that I received their message, while looking at the stars with my SO! The timing and location turned that into a very vivid memory...

I then got to spend a couple weeks in their offices in late April / early May. I was able to bring my partner along with me to Washington State, and we did some sightseeing on the weekends.

(Pictured: part of a weekend trip in Washington. This was a dried up lakebed.)

After that, I worked on the Void Spirit trailer in the lead to The International. In August, those couple weeks in Shanghai were intense. Having peeked behind the curtain and seen everything that goes into production really does give me a much deeper appreciation for all the work that goes unseen.

Then after that, in late 2019, there was my work on the yearly True Sight documentary, for the second time. In 2018, I’d been tasked with making just two animated sequences, and I was very nervous since that was my first time working directly with Valve; my work then was fairly “sober”, for lack of a better term.

(Pictured: view from my hotel room in Shanghai.)

For the 2019 edition, I had double the amount of sequences on my plate, and they were very trusting of me, which was very reassuring. I got to be more technically ambitious, I let my style shine through (you know... if it’s got all these gratuitous light beams, etc.), and it was real fun to work on.

At the premiere in Berlin, I was sitting in the middle of the room (in fact, you could spot me in the pre-show broadcast behind SirActionSlacks; unfortunately I had forgotten to bring textures for my shirt). Being in that spot when my shots started playing, and hearing people laughing and cheering at them... that’s an unforgettable memory. The last time I had experienced something like that was having my first Dota short film played at KeyArena in 2015, the laughter of the crowd echoing all around me... I was shaking in my seat. Just remembering it gets my heart pumping, man. It’s a really unique feeling.

So I’m pretty happy with how that work came out. I came out of it having learned quite a few new tricks too, born out of necessity from my technical ambitions. Stuff I intend to put to use again. I’m really glad that the team I worked with at Valve was so kind and great to work with. After the premiere, I received a few more compliments from them... and I did reply, “careful! You might give me enough confidence to apply!”, to which one of them replied, “you totally should, man.” But I still haven’t because I’m a massive idiot, haha. Well, I still haven’t because I don’t think I’m well-rounded enough yet. And also because, like I alluded to before, I think I’m in a pretty good situation as it is.

It’s not the first encouragements I had received from them, too; there had been a couple people from the Dota team who, at the end of my two week stay in the offices, while I was on my way out, told me I should try applying. But again, I didn’t apply because I’m a massive idiot.

(Pictured: view from the Valve offices.)

To be 200% frank, even though there’s been quite a few people who’ve followed my work throughout the years, comments on Reddit and YouTube, etc. who’ve all said things along the lines of “why aren’t you working for them ?”, well... it’s not something I ever really pursued. I know it’s a lot of people’s dream job, but I never saw it that way. I feel like, if it ever happened to me... sure, that could be cool! But I don’t know if it’s something I really want, or even that I should want?

And if you add “being unsure” to what I consider to be a lack of experience in certain things, well... I really don’t think I’d be a good candidate (yet?), and having seen how busy these people are on the inside, the last thing I want to do is waste their time with a bad application. That would be the most basic form of courtesy I can show to them.

Besides, Covid-19 makes applying to just about any job very hard, if not outright impossible right now. And for a while longer, I suspect.

(Pictured: the Tuilière & Sanadoire rocks.)

I’m still unhappy about the amount of “actual animation” I get to do overall since I like to work on just about every step of the process in my videos, but well. It’s getting better. One thing I am happy with though, is “solving problems”. And new challenges. Seeking the answers to them, and making myself be able to see those problems, alongside entire projects, from a more “holistic” way, that is to say, not missing the forest for the trees.

It’s hard to explain, and even just the use of the term “holistic” sounds like some kind of pompous cop-out... but looking back on how I handled projects 5 years ago vs. now, I see the differences in how I think about problems a lot. And to some extent I do have my time on Valve contracts to thank a LOT in helping me progress there.

Anyway, I’m currently working on a project that I’m very interested & creativefuly fulfilled by. But it has nothing to do with animation nor Dota, for a change! There are definitely at least two other Dota short films I want to make, though. We’ll see how that goes.

Happy new year & take care y’all.

#year in review

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prettyboysdontlookatexplosions · 4 years

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totally stealing @honeybabydichotomy‘s meme-adaptation concept re: i have a handful of things that could be described WIPs and nearly all of them i already can’t shut my mouth about, but here is a trip through the GOOGLE DOCS GRAVEYARD of abandoned fandoms past (mcu, trc, something too embarrassing to list above the cut so you’ll just have to CLICK and find out)

first up, the last fic i never actually wrote for, lmao, american idol season 8 RPF fandom, back in 2010... this was going to be a bigbang fic but in keeping with my terrible track record re: challenges etc. i did not finish it, although in my defense that had at least something to do with spilling coffee all over my laptop right around the time i started a very hours-intensive job with a huge commute. when i look at this now i’m like, this sure was me writing ten years ago, but i still love the emotional architecture of any story in which one deliberately shut-off and long-repressed individual is uncomfortably thawed by the miracle of someone else’s open-hearted joie de vivre; it’s the oldest story here but arguably the closest to an actual WIP in that the ghost of that idea is the seed for the divorced quentin AU i harbor hopes of one day writing; you can definitely see the Relevant Vibes in this exchange, i think, although i feel the need to clarify that adam lambert enjoying twilight is a thing he said on national television, i wouldn’t do that to someone on my own:

Veselka is crowded, but despite the bitter February cold, Kris doesn't mind waiting outside for twenty minutes, leaning against the glass display case of the expensive toy store next door, separated from Adam by little more than an inch. "So - okay, this is kind of terrible. Like, worse than the Twilight thing. But I feel like you should know who you're dealing with, so."

"It can't be that bad."

Adam just smiles knowingly. "Oh, can't it?"

"Hit me with your best shot," Kris says. Something twitches in his stomach as Adam raises his eyebrow to that.

Adam leans down to whisper in Kris's ear, sending inexplicable sparks down Kris's neck. "Sometimes, when I'm standing in the street or on the subway or something, I like to watch people go by and try to guess what they're like in bed."

Kris blushes. "Very mature," he says with a nervous laugh, embarrassed about his own embarrassment.

Adam holds up his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Hey. We're all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars," he intones. "Oscar Wilde."

"Do you think that's true?"

"I think it is. At least - " Adam tilts his chin up, a mischievous glint in his eyes " - I identify with it."

Kris searches for something to say that won't make him seem hopelessly square. "What's the view like from down there?"

Adam gazes at the night sky, where Manhattan's perpetual glow blots out all but the brightest lights. "I like it. You see more of them this way."

Kris thinks he's spent six years priding himself himself on keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead, avoiding the pull of the horizon or the distraction of the sun. "So. Mr. Gutter." He points to a thirty-something man getting out of a parked Ford across the street. "What's he like?"

next up: an unpublished MCU snippet! this was a peggy character study set at howard’s funeral, also an excuse for me to have feelings about tony stark; idiotically, i actually have a complete draft of this, and got a really brilliant beta job from @nimmieamee, but then never went back and revised it and also could not bring myself to post it when despite being passable as done i could tell in my bones it was simply Not Working, even though parts of it i really liked:

Howard had not taken to aging with grace. It, too, offended him: the body betraying the dream of perfectibility. Dodging it had taken up an increasing percentage of his time. He took up jogging, early among the public, too late in his life: a few months in and a busted knee earned him doctor's orders to abandon that pursuit. His bones were already too brittle to benefit. Howard himself had become brittle long ago. You could blame the war; but that was what happened to people with no give to them. They were like the driest branches waiting for a storm, only unlike branches they recognized on some level the precariousness of their structure, and consequently dedicated themselves to forgetting it.

Howard was undeterred. (Being deterred also went against his every principle.) He had swimming pools installed, outdoors in Los Angeles, adorned with artificial rocks arranged just so to give the impression of a hot spring, and indoors in West Hampton, heated, lit underwater with a yellow-green glow throwing tendrils of light on smooth white walls. Fitness gurus and nutrition consultants were put on retainer, a bicoastal platoon to prevent malfunctions; physical therapists were brought in to recalibrate around malfunctions. They quit with increasing frequency, as his temper frayed along with his body. He gave up, in sequence, smoking, alcohol, red meat, all meat, alcohol, sugar, processed grains, alcohol, salt, and direct sunlight--although by the time of this last pronouncement, it produced little noticeable effect.

Lately he had become obsessed with the idea of cryogenic freezing: the fantasy of going to sleep and waking up in a time when his intellectual heirs had figured out how to repair and replace his rusted pieces. Skin firmed and thickened; knees stitched back to mint condition; a whole new heart, perhaps, grown in a jar or assembled from compounds yet to be constructed. "Wouldn't you take the chance, if you had it?" he had murmured, eyes going dreamy as they did when he talked of his latest missiles.

Peggy pictured Steve in the Arctic, his hyperactive cells stilled by the indifferent cold. She shivered, like a child hearing a ghost story, and said no, she wouldn't.

finally, two stories from a fandom i actually never published any stories with, or engaged with in any meaningful way: the fuckin raven cycle. the dumbest books on god’s green earth. the first was a ronan story where gansey actually dies and stays the fuck dead, and ronan handles it by being a huge asshole, and then, unlike in these hideous godforsaken books, actually decides on purpose to be a better person.... i’m realizing revisiting this now that some of the itch of this story i’ve finally gotten out of my system via damage control, but the GENIUS IDEA of ronan giving matthew an actual soul by giving up the dream power and thus becoming an actual human, sadly, does not really transfer, even though it’s the best concept i’ve ever thought of in my life. anyway, whatever, i have a type:

He opened the door. Adam and Blue were looking at him with expressions he couldn't decipher. Noah was looking at the floor.

"Are you—" Adam started. Ronan watched the word okay die of its own irrelevance in Adam's mouth.

"None of you were invited," Ronan said.

Blue started, "We just—"

"Sorry," he said, loud enough to drown her out. "But this is a very exclusive party. That means no rednecks"—he pointed at Adam—"no bitches"—Blue—"and no pussies"—Noah. "So I'm going to need you all to leave."

He focused his eyes on Blue. She looked like she wanted to slap him. This was familiar. He wanted to go back to the time when his only interactions with Blue Sergeant involved saying something and watching her look at him like she wanted to slap him. Things had gotten complicated after that. Then Gansey had died. Ronan couldn't articulate the connection, but he felt strongly that it was there.

"Maybe I wasn't clear," he said. "What I mean is: get the fuck out of my house."

and last but not least, another TRC story, motivated initially by dreaminess and then sporadically continued after TRK came out (seriously like ever 18 months i dig this one out and write another 500 words and give up again) out of spite - a story where, because fuck stief, adam parrish gets a cell phone, ronan lynch gets a job, and no one assumes that finally having sex means you’re basically married forever without even talking about if you’re boyfriends. this one is like, so close to being “done” in that it almost goes beginning to end and has a lot of individual lines i actually like, but has always been very difficult to pull together because of the reality that maggie stiefvater wrote a series such that ronan lynch acting like a decent boyfriend or experiencing character growth or talking about his emotions is literally out of character, which makes it hard to write a dreamy summer hook-up story; i was actually thinking earlier this year of picking it back up YET AGAIN, but then damage control ate my brain... one day, perhaps, for the satisfaction of having finished... or i might just listen to “cruel summer” by taylor swift while meditating on it for a couple million more hours:

“Did you call me over just to give me the fucking silent treatment in person?” Ronan said. It sounded less vicious than it should have. Like he had been aiming for a growl and somehow landed on a mumble.

I didn’t call you over, Adam wanted to say, but it wasn’t actually true. He had. That seemed wrong, though. Ronan Lynch wasn’t someone to be called over. He was too wild and spiteful for that. Even Gansey couldn’t manage it. The rest of Ronan’s world had given up trying long ago.

But when Adam had called, Ronan had come.

He felt like he might throw up.

“I’m not giving you the silent treatment,” he said instead. “I’m just—“ But he didn’t know what he was doing. So he switched tacks. “You just—“ But he didn’t know that, either. And asking Ronan what the fuck are you doing had never yielded helpful results.

So Adam stuck to the truest thing, what he had worked his whole life to make true. “I’m leaving in three months.”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything,” Ronan spat. This time he was closer to the expected intensity, but there was still something strange under his voice. Maybe not. Maybe Adam was just having a nervous breakdown.

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365days365movies · 3 years

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February 11, 2021: The Bridges of Madison County (1995)(Part 1)

Y’know, if you were going to tell me that one of the most famous American romances of all time was directed by this guy...

I would be very surprised. And surprised I am, because The Bridges of Madison County is indeed directed by Clint Eastwood, who also acts as one of its leads alongside one of the most famous actresses of the time. That, of course, would be Meryl Streep, who’s going to get yet another Best Actress nomination for this role. Believe it or not, this is going to be her 8th for BA, and 10th nomination overall, with only 2 wins included (one for Actress and one for Supporting Actress).

Finally, this is another period piece, also taking place in the 1960s. I guess historical romances were real popular in the 90s to 2000s. Go figure! This will probably be the last, as I have a hankering to move onto another subgenre. So, shall we? SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

At a home in what I can only assume is Madison County, Iowa, siblings Carolyn (Annie Corley) and Michael Johnson (Victor Slezak) arrive at their now deceased mother’s home for the execution of her will. They learn that she has wished to be cremated, and for her ashes to be scattered over a local bridge, which they are...NOT happy about, goddamn! Respect your mother’s wishes, guys, dear Lord!

They uncover an envelope containing photos from 1965 that they’ve never seen, all of which show her posing near various The Bridges of Madison County. Upon looking at them, Carolyn has a realization, and asks Michael to come along. They ask the lawyer and Michael’s wife to leave them, and they go through it in private.

The letters

See, they’ve found letters to their mother from Robert Kincaid, a photographer for the magazine National Geographic, seemingly confessing to an illicit secret love affair. However, he’s also dead, and has asked for his ashes to be scattered off of the same bridge. Michael (whom I REALLY don’t like, by the way, he’s an ABSOLUTE dick) believes that he influenced her to do the same, but Carolyn’s not sure. Also amongst the letters is a key.

The key opens a chest, within which is a camera and a collection of other items, as well as a letter addressed to them both. Written in 1987, it’s addressed to Carolyn because she knew that Michael would be a little pissbaby about it (look, I REALLY don’t like him, he’s being an ass). In the letter to them, she confesses to them the affair, which took place when Robert Kincaid went there to photograph The Bridges of Madison County. The entire affair is documented in three notebooks, which they begin reading.

1965! Italian immigrant Francesca Johnson (Meryl Streep) is cooking dinner for her husband Richard (Jim Haynie) and her two teenaged kids, all of whom are on the way to the Illinois State Fair to exhibit Carolyn’s prize steer. The marriage is passionless, and the kids aren’t exactly opened up to her mother.

It doesn’t seem like a bad life, but it is kind of a dull one. Or, y’know, complacent and stable because not every relationship has to be a sequence of whirlwind passion and glory, and one shouldn’t abandon a good loving situation for a WEEKEND-LONG FLING GODDAMN IT I AM SICK AND TIRED OF INFIDELITY IN THESE GODDAMN MOVIES HOLY SHIT EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THE LAST FOUR FILMS HAS FEATURED IT AND I AM SICK OF IT

For the record, I’ve never been cheated on, nor have I cheated on anyone, but this trend in romance movies...troubles me. Seriously, I get that the last few, especially In the Mood for Love, have looked at infidelity as a serious issue, but...just one. Just one great romance movie that doesn’t require infidelity for its main couple to get together. Please? I mean, if you include the never seen Rosaline or betrothed Paris in Romeo + Juliet, that movie also had infidelity in it, meaning the only ones WITHOUT ANY FORM of infidelity in 11 DAYS have been Dirty Dancing and Pretty Woman. Guys. C’mon.

Yeah, yeah, OK, moving on. Sorry, that rant’s been building for a bit.

Anyway, the kids and Richard take off, leaving Francesca by herself at the house. As she’s doing chores, who should pull up but photographer Robert Kincaid (Clint Eastwood), who’s looking for Roseman Covered Bridge to photograph it. But, he’s lost, and he asks Francesca for directions.

However, the directions there are pretty complicated, and even Francesca seems to get them mixed up. She agrees to show him there in person, and the two take off in his car.

In the car together

The two get to know each other a bit over the course of the drive. Robert notes that he’s been to her hometown in Italy, having been there once because he considered it pretty. She’s fascinated by the decision, but I’m not sure if its because she thinks he’s crazy, or because she thinks he’s intriguing

They make it to Roseman Bridge, where Robert takes some preparatory photographs and Francesca walks along the bridge itself. I will say, I live in a place with some covered bridges, and is it weird that I feel like visiting a nearby one tomorrow? Honestly, I think that’s exactly what I’ll do. Maybe do some birdwatching nearby, contribute to the Great Backyard Bird Count, something, y’know?

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Out of appreciation for her help, he picks her some flowers, which she claims are poisonous. The two bond over this, and he drives her back home. And that SHOULD be it, as the two part and introduce each other by first name. But, she offers him some iced tea, and he accepts. HERE we go.

In the house, the two continue to bond, and Francesca begins to reveal some frustration with her home life, as well as her life in Iowa as compared to what she had dreamed of. To that, Robert says the following, which he claimed he wrote one day on the road.

The old dreams were good dreams. They didn’t work out, but I’m glad I had them.

That is...that is a nice line WAIT. Am I buying into this coupling? ALREADY?

So, here’s the thing thus far about this month. Some couples have had great chemistry, and some haven’t been perfect. On the top for me so far are Richard and Vivian from Pretty Woman, Johnny and Baby from Dirty Dancing, Emma and George from Emma, Yuri and Lara from Doctor Zhivago, and the highest being Mr. Chow and Mrs. Chan from In the Mood for Love (although, that one amounts to wishful thinking). But all of those took a little bit to build up. so HOW IS IT that I’m already shipping these two (despite the infidelity, of course)?

Francesca seems to agree with me as she watches Robert wash up outside, after having invited him to stay for dinner. He helps her prepare dinner, then charms her (and me, incidentally) with charming stories and dinner jokes. Real talk, I like Robert, he’s a charming guy.

After dinner, she notes that she was once a schoolteacher, but her kids and husband didn’t approve of her working. 1960s, after all. She brushed this off, and asks the location of the most exciting place he’s ever...been...shit, this is an example of excitement being introduced into a boring life, huh?

That trope is one of the most annoying to me in these movies. The Notebook had a bit of that, and I wasn’t a fan, but this is the first time that it’s a straight-up example of that trope. And...I’m buying it? WHY AM I BUYING THIS

Francesca becomes a bit conflicted at this point, and the two share some brandy together. But we’re shot back into the present day, where Michael (UUUUUGH) accuses Robert of trying to get her drunk to take advantage of her. However, Carolyn sympathizes with them both, citing her own currently faltering marriage.

Back in 1965, the two have a slight disagreement about how they live their lives. Robert leaves for the night, and they surprisingly don’t do anything untoward. However, I’m ore than willing to bet that Francesca’s now thinking about it. She gets a phone call from Richard in Illinois, but begins to tear up as Robert leaves. She steps outside in a bathrobe and flashes the wind.

That night, she writes a message to Robert, and drives out to the bridge, where she leaves it for him. She tells him to give her a call, inviting him over the following day. The next morning, he sees the note while taking a picture of the bridge, then calls her afterwards and accepts the invitation. He also invites her to come along with him to take pictures of the bridges, which she accepts in turn.

OK, let’s go for a Part 2! See you there!

#the bridges of madison county #clint eastwood #meryl streep #annie corley #victor slezak #romance february #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #historical romance #trapstr #fuckyesmerylstreep #meryl*

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sultrysirens · 4 years

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Story Time

Out of nowhere I decided to share a bit of my story as a fanfiction writer, starting with my original introduction into the profession. It’s going to be a long one, but hopefully, and inspiring one. Skip if you’re not interested.

NOTE: This includes spoilers for certain anime and fandoms. If you don’t know Dragonball Z or Inuyasha, specifically, you’ll be quite lost.

The Beginning

How everything started was just through surfing the net. Back then my interest was Dragonball Z. I was 14. I had only had the internet for a few months, so everything about it was new. This was 20 years ago, now, back in 2000. I used Yahoo! for all my searches. Google had not yet been born. Fanfiction.net was the main hub where all these amazing stories were birthed, and yet at this point I had not yet found it.

What I found, first, was a fanfiction writer who had a website. Geocities, I believe. I can’t recall how I found it, exactly, except that I had only just learned about Bulma and Vegeta getting together and thought they were an amazing couple. I looked up art, and it led me to this site. I can’t recall the site’s name anymore, but I remember the tagline for it was something like, “Bulma and Vegeta’s Cove.”

One thing I can distinctly recall is a small gif in one corner of the main page, displaying a chibi Vegeta with a microphone in one hand, going between 2 or 3 singing poses. It was cute.

This site was coded in such a way that it linked directly to fanfiction.net, displaying the owner’s many, many, many fanfictions in an embedded window. The stories were largely explicit, included sex and, in a few stories, rape, all of them AUs from all the rest. But each had a singular goal: Bulma and Vegeta’s romance, how they ended up getting together.

Some of the stories I remember very clearly. Others have faded. Some were modern AUs, one included dimension-hopping via a magical device Bulma created and recharged every 24 hours (sound familiar, anyone?), and some were painfully OOC but in very sweet ways.

I devoured these stories. There must have been two dozen, with most of them multi-chapter works. And, eventually, I started to notice the format with these stories, how it seemed to be a miniature explorer window within the website. Eventually, I clicked on the mini website and was given a full introduction to fanfiction.net and its massive breadth.

Back in those days, fanfiction.net (or FF.net, as it was usually called) allowed explicit content. And this I looked for very directly. I enjoyed the “lemons” more than anything, easily reading the most ridiculous stories just for the porn therein.

Eventually, I figured it out. I understood fanfiction and what it meant. And though I’d only been using a computer for a few months, I started writing.

It was a painful process at first. Think back to your first months with a keyboard and how difficult it was to get used to the format, how to move your fingers. I had to stare directly at the keyboard to write anything and it was a pain, a slow-going endeavor of passion.

My first fanfictions were Dragonball Z, unsurprisingly. I made a few silly ones, a few serious ones, a few sexual ones. At 14, with no grasp of the anatomy of sex, I was writing porn, using the porn I’d already read as resources. I didn’t know what a clitoris was, but I knew ladies apparently went nuts when men tongued them, so that’s what I wrote.

Eventually I got my first hit: Temptation. It was a Bulma/Vegeta story. I don’t remember it very clearly, and this is probably for the best. The plot, as I recall, was Bulma getting sick and Vegeta having to be her nurse for a time. Eventually she got worse and worse, until she recognized why she was sick: she’d cut herself one night with a device that’d had a compound on it. I can’t recall what the compound was designed to do, but the short version is it made you feel weaker and sicker until you increased your physical activity to burn it out.

This led to wild sex. Like, very wild sex. For hours. My lack of experience evidently was not a consideration; I was given compliments by the dozens. I’d done good.

And now I was addicted.

The Second Hit

I was 16 now. We’d be moving out of my childhood home soon, but I didn’t know this yet. I’d been spending a lot of time with my sister, who was 26, and soaking up Adult Swim shows on her cable. Inuyasha was my new obsession, as well as a liberal amount of Trigun. I lived, slept, ate, and breathed these shows. My head was constantly alight with ideas, concepts, and desires. I wrote near-constantly.

Through this, I managed my second big hit: Transformations.

It’s been a long time, now, and I can’t recall the beginning as much as the ending. I think perhaps I called it something else at the start.

The premise was simple: Kagome, the main character, suddenly transforms into a half-demon, a hanyou, after a demon bites her in battle. I remember that initially I was just writing bullshit; I had no filter and didn’t edit or delete anything. What I wrote got posted verbatim. And, at first, it was cringe-worthy.

I can distinctly recall two things: first, Sesshomaru -- Inuyasha’s full-demon elder brother -- caught Kagome’s scent and investigated and had difficulty resisting her. She was a half-wolf demon, and he was attracted to that. Earlier she and Inuyasha were together in a cave, and her transformation had given her a tail -- which she didn’t like. She chased it, trying to catch it and rip it off.

That’s when the accusations started coming in.

Out of nowhere, and totally unexpectedly, I was getting a slew of comments accusing me of copying another popular fanfiction. I’d legitimately never heard of it, and I had to search it out. I remember reading the first chapter or two and feeling surprised; they were very similar, to the point where I couldn’t blame anyone for thinking I’d copied it.

This was a case of great minds thinking alike, or so I said at the time. I was amused more than anything, but it was clear the accusations weren’t going to stop. Eventually I deleted the story and started over. I’d learned a bit in those few chapters I’d posted and decided that I didn’t really want the events to unfold the way they had, so starting over sounded like a great idea.

And it was.

Now came Transformations as it remains today. The beginning is the same -- Kagome is bitten by a demon and transforms into a half-wolf demon -- but the events following take a different turn from the original.

It was a monster of a hit. I got multiple comments and reviews on every chapter, and I can remember doing this thing for a long time in which I threaten the readers at the end of each chapter with various weapons, only to have the weapon backfire somehow and hurt and/or kill me. The readers seemed to enjoy it, and soon they were suggesting new weapons for me to use.

I loved it.

Eventually the story ended at 64 chapter, but back then my chapters weren’t nearly as long as I write them now, and the final chapter was just a family tree of sorts leading the characters from Feudal Japan to modern day. It was a great, beautiful monster and I had drawn dozens of pictures to go along with it.

It was actually through this that I decided I needed a better place to post my art and thus discovered DeviantART.com. That’s been my main art gallery ever since, around 16 years now (I believe I created it in 2004, a year after I started the fic). If you go there and head all the way back to the first images I posted, you’ll find all of that art remaining even today.

It’s...pretty bad. X’D

But the story doesn’t end there. I wanted my fic to have a greater reach, so I started looking for more websites. I found MediaMiner.org, which was appealing because it hosted both written works and art. And once Transformation was finished, the story concluded, I found I couldn’t quite let it go.

So I did something I’ve not done since: I created an alternate ending.

Titled Changing Lives, this story picked up after chapter 28 of Transformations and went a different way. It treated the story of Transformations as just that: a story, written by Kagome, which Inuyasha read while she was gone one day. He was thunderstruck by it, given it so clearly screamed “I love you” and was full of romance -- and sex.

This led to them getting together, but soon thereafter, tragedy struck.

Kagome was kidnapped on her way home from school. By the time Inuyasha found her, she’d been gang-raped and discarded.

The story very deeply included time travel and revenge aspects from that point on, and I can also recall giving the character Miroku a reincarnation as a detective. He was put on the case, and with Inuyasha’s help, had all the men arrested -- there were seven of them.

Then they started dying.

Inuyasha wasn’t doing this, but he was happy to allow it to happen. The detective did his job per the law, trying to keep the criminals safe as they started dropping like flies. The killer left notes written on the cell walls in the criminal’s own blood, though I can’t quite recall the sequence anymore.

What I do remember is this: the first one read, “He touched her first.” The rest followed that sequence, killing the men in order -- second, third, fourth, etc. I remember one said “hurt her”, one said “made her cry”, and so on.

Eventually, the truth was discovered: Inuyasha was killing them, but not “young” Inuyasha. “Old” Inuyasha. The one who’d lived through the centuries. And his story was the most tragic of all.

In his time, Kagome had been raped and her rapists arrested, as normal. Then, years later, they were freed, having served their time, and immediately they tried to track her down. She was pregnant at the time with Inuyasha’s child. When she saw she was being chased, she jumped down the well back to his time, and the men followed her.

They traveled through time with her but had no idea. They killed her there, then climbed out, and Inuyasha arrived too late to help. But the men were there, confused and lost, and the blood of his wife and child were on them. He slaughtered them all.

But now the well had ceased functioning. He couldn’t return to her time. And, at first, he was just...sad. He mourned. Then, with time, he began to plan. For five centuries, he planned.

His plan was to keep Kagome from ever getting raped. Alas, he failed in this, so instead he decided to get pre-revenge and kill the men while they were imprisoned. He succeeded, but along the way grew...exhausted. By the time he murdered the last man, he had little will left to do so.

But he finished it. For her.

Then he showed himself to Kagome and Inuyasha, explaining what had happened. And he wished them well.

Changing Lives was significantly shorter than its predecessor, only 35 chapters, but I felt it was the better story, overall. I never made art for it, I don’t think, but it was more emotional.

To Present Day

I kept writing, on and off, ever since. Any time I got sufficiently involved in a story, my mind immediately began making my own stories for it. Movies, shows, video games; nothing remained untouched by my mind. I made stories for Labyrinth, Dragon Age, Trigun, Spyro, Jak & Daxter, Naruto...the list went on. I started posted on a third site, adultfanfiction.net (comprised specifically of explicit stories), and I started existing solely on my stories and the feedback I received from them.

I got better. And better. And better. I started looking back on my first stories, my first “hits”, and cringed at the horrendous grammar and articulation of my youth. But it was nostalgic as well, bringing back fond memories of writing on my home computer before we had internet and then rushing to my sister’s with a 3.5″ disc to post them via her internet.

I had a friend around this time, named Leila (Lee-lah), and drew and wrote together. We came up with original stories and though we never really posted them, we had so much fun it didn’t matter. Mostly we talked and drew together, and while I considered myself the better artist, I considered her far better at clothes designs.

Then...a dry spell. I went into college at age 20 and there I met my husband, Eric. He was 17 at the time. And he introduced me to so many more worlds than I’d known before, including the aforementioned Jak & Daxter series and the Sims 2.

Years passed. I still wrote from time to time, but it wasn’t such an obsession as it’d been before. If I had a good enough idea, I’d write it, but I tried to keep my things to oneshots. I posted many such stories on adultfanfiction.net, and I generally got positive reviews and ratings. In the meantime we were more addicted to World of Warcraft, us two and a few friends, and we played that often.

Eventually I slowed down. Time blurred together. I had a lot of good stories, but no major hits. Then came Megamind, and with it, an interesting idea that a lot of people took a liking to: Megamind as the indirect hero, and Metro Man as an abusive spouse of Roxanne. I titled it Bad to be Good, and it was an incredible story.

I started counting words with this one, only posting chapters when they reached around 6,000 words.

The story was a very serious one. It struck cords with a lot of readers, one in particular saying it helped her through some similar times with her abusive husband. We eventually became friends and remain to this day. (She since divorced him, so don’t worry about her. ♥)

Ultimately I never truly completed that story. I remember getting up to 12 chapters and then having difficulty figuring out how to proceed. I used to open the Word document from time to time, check what I’d written, and try to edit things or continue it, but it never really took. Eventually I abandoned it, but luckily the 12th chapter was a softer ending of sorts, so my readers were satisfied.

Then came the Marvel films and, with it, a resurgence in an activity I’d long since stopped participating: roleplaying.

The Crazy Train

It started simple enough. The Avengers just came out, and I was starting to see Facebook RPs popping up between the characters. Curious, I tried to find the pages in question but couldn’t locate them. I did, however, come to find out that there were dozens of pages dedicated to the main characters, alone, with dozens more popping up by the month.

Eventually I stepped in. I’d grown to love Loki’s character and subsequently found he had a canonical wife, Sigyn, but hadn’t found any pages for her. So I made one. Without checking with the other RPer, I just threw myself into a Loki page and, thankfully, that Loki accepted his “wife’s” presence.

We had fun. And our group steadily grew. A Thor, another Loki, and Odin, a Sleipnir, and a whole slew of original characters joined the ranks. I, too, began adding more pages to my roleplays, starting with Narfi and Vali -- Loki and Sigyn’s twin sons.

At the start, these two shared a page. Then, when it became increasingly obvious that people had their favorite of the two boys, I separated them. Funny enough, Vali started off as the clear favorite (he was flirty AF), but Narfi steadily became more so.

Their relationships grew. They both fell in love. They were both tricked by a succubus, giving each an unwanted child at different intervals. Narfi soon had a family of his own, as his lover had an adopted daughter and he was given a daughter of his own.

We spent years here, six or seven I think, just roleplaying with one another. Our group grew and shrank as people joined our circles or left it. There was drama in and out of the roleplay setting. Friendships were forged and abandoned. At one point a Thor page (titled Fatty Thor) targeted me for my roleplay choices and tried to get his followers to harass me. Eventually he left, deleting his page, and our RPs continued without him, never addressing his disappearance.

Then Ragnarok struck -- but not the film’s Rangarok. No, this was worse. We were impatient to have the event occur, me in large part because the mythology says that Vali slays Narfi during the sequence and I couldn’t wait to put all that pain into writing. But what really kicked this off was a friend’s page getting repeatedly deleted.

Sleipnir.

In this RP setting, Sleipnir was a fully intelligent horse capable of speech and even transforming for short periods of time into a humanoid form. He fell in love with a half-demon woman and they had a son together, a centaur named Grani. And then his page kept vanishing.

Initially, we believed the page was reported because there was a rape sequence between his character and the half-demon, though -- and this is imperative -- the two RPers had discussed this in detail before agreeing to the RP. A great deal of thought went into it before they started the roleplay.

And yet, Sleipnir’s page went down.

The RPer made a new one, and that too, went down a short time later. This was disheartening for her, and though we all did our best to help, even creating the page for her in case it was her account getting it flagged, the pages kept getting deleted. The only cause we could work out was that Microsoft just came out with a Sleipnir program of some form and were removing all other pages with that name regardless of content.

So we kicked off Ragnarok and wrecked our Facebook RP world, killing off some of the characters and leaving others behind. We moved platforms, taking our remaining world to Gaia Online, but it wasn’t to be.

Though the RPs increased in quality while there and we created avatars for each of our characters and it definitely helped the process, we just couldn’t keep it up. We were too disheartened for our friend and how things had ended on Facebook.

Slowly but surely, our RPs died. We tried just once more by moving to a new forum called Valucre, but we couldn’t quite get steam going there, either. Eventually all of the RPs died, most of them without conclusions. In some ways, we mourned the loss.

But our remaining group, a total of four of us, remained friends for a great while longer. Three of us, in particular created this very blog some years later with the purpose of posting all of our NSFW works here.

Art, writing, roleplays, etc; this blog was meant to be a joint page to display all of our wicked wiles.

For several months we didn’t post much. Kyone did the most posting during this time, art for her favorite yaoi couple of the time, both NSFW and SFW, and it was moderately popular. Then came my contribution: The Dancer.

The Resurgence

To this day, I’m not sure what really got me back into TMNT. I know I was tired of RPs but wanted the stories to continue, and thus did I begin writing fanfictions again after years of never touching them -- or, at least, never posting them.

The Bayverse movies kicked this off. I’d always loved TMNT, since I was a kid, but the Bayverse films put them in a new light. They weren’t anthropomorphic turtles under 5′ tall anymore, naked 100% of the time. They were tall, big bois, more humanoid, and more like hybrids. I loved them. I wanted them.

I wanted them to be loved.

At the start, I was under the false belief that they didn’t get much love -- i.e., no romance. I especially believed Raphael didn’t get much affection, being such an angry and brash character. Oh, how wrong I was, lol.

Thus did I start with Raphael.

At the beginning I was inspired by a story written by another page, @teradoration, featuring a merman. I wasn’t too interested in the story, personally, as it’s m|m and I’ve never enjoyed those types of stories, but the inspiration came from the fact that it was a multi-chapter work -- on Tumblr.

So I decided to write some porn.

Initially, the idea was to make a short story, something like 10 chapters. I put thought into it, into the character I wanted to create and introduce, into her appearance and history and passions. I considered Raphael, his personality, and crafted a character designed to intrigue and challenge him. Then I looked at both popular and unique character tropes and the kinds of characters I’d made and turned in another direction.

Thus was Jocelyn born, a half-black, half-Polynesian ballet dancer with blonde hair and freckles. And, at first...it was a dead story. No one saw it. No one liked it. No one took a chance on Jocelyn.

For nearly a year, I wrote chapters to an empty audience. I tried not to let it get me down, but the consensus seemed clear: no one was interested in reading it. Still, I’d started it and come to love the characters very dearly, and so I continued. For my sake, for their sake, I continued.

Then came my first big break: tmnttrashcan. If you’re wondering why I didn’t @ that one, it’s because it’s been deactivated. But this amazing woman found my story, loved it, and began sharing it. And because her blog was one driven by reblogs and gifsets, it was far more popular than this one despite its younger age.

And thus did The Dancer begin drawing attention, fans, and feedback. Thus did I finally feel as if this labor of love was validated, that I wasn’t posting just for me anymore. People were enjoying the story, and in return, I poured more effort and love into it.

This is how I thanked my readers: with better content. More drama, more emotion, more love, more heartache, more sex, more everything.

Even before this happened, however, my head had continued the story far into the future. I made a sequel -- The Dragon -- before I’d even had a concept of The DJ. But in this sequel I’d begun laying the groundwork for something in between the two, and through this I began creating Lisa.

With Lisa, I wanted to create a character that fit more securely with the next turtle on my list: Michelangelo. Rather than opposing the turtle in many ways, as Jocelyn does with Raphael, I wanted Lisa to mesh very easily with him.

The DJ had begun.

For a time, tmnttrashcan’s admin and I were fantastic friends. We talked often, over text and over voice chatting. I told her ideas I had for the future, plans going years down the line both in and out of the story, and even let her read what I’d written of The Dragon thus far. She loved it, every last word, and heaped praise at me.

I loved this woman very deeply. I’d tell her as much from time to time, and she echoed the sentiment.

Then she simply...vanished. She stopped talking to me, stopped responding. Eventually I asked her if we were no longer friends. She never answered.

It was heartbreaking.

Soon thereafter, I was also left behind by Kyone. She unfriended me. And then Tumblr decided to ban all NSFW content, so in order to preserve this blog, I was forced to delete all her NSFW art. And when she went further and removed herself from the blog, I went further too and removed all of her posts. But it wasn’t easy.

It’s been a few years since then and I remain heartbroken. We’d been friends for over a decade. I saw her grow up (we met when she was 16), saw her graduate, saw her go through schooling and jobs and hard times. Between her, myself, and Fluxx, we’d amassed a mountain of great times and greater stories. We’d been a sisterhood in all but blood. We’d even called ourselves such.

To this day there remains a hollow place in me. In short, I’ve been jaded. My whole life, I’d seen this pattern repeated: I make a friend, we become close, then they abandon me, usually within a year or two. But with Fluxx and Kyone, I’d truly believed this pattern had finally been broken. I’d believed I finally had friends for life.

Between the loss of tmnttrashcan and Kyone, however, I learned a hard lesson: not to trust so deeply.

This was repeated twice more before I gave up on sharing. With Blue Blood, twice I made a close friend, got to the point of talking near-constantly and voice chatting. Twice I shared previews of what was to come. Once I even told the entire story, everything, every last detail I have planned to the end of the series. And twice, after hearing so much of the tale, the friend vanished from me. They stopped responding. I was talking to air.

It hurt.

By now you may be wondering why this is included in my fanfiction autobiography. Well, because it spurred me on. If I can’t keep friends for long, then I’ll keep my own company. I won’t let myself down. I decided to focus on my stories, for in this I am always the most important person. I am the one who will never be abandoned. I am the creator, the god, of the worlds I shape for the entertainment of others. Readers may come and go, as much a slave to their interests as I am, but I remain. For those who stay and those who arrive later, I remain.

There is a power in this which cannot be matched, but more so, there’s an enjoyment and responsibility. My stories are unfinished but demand an ending from a slew of followers. And so I keep writing, even though the stories are largely complete in my own mind. I know how they end. I know how they intertwine, how they connect. I know the backstage dancers, how the plot lines link together, where each thread is leading; my readers do not.

And so I continue writing, even as I remain cautious about how much I share.

To The Future

What comes next is largely unknown, even to me. I have many, many, many stories, both in original settings and fandoms. I work on some of them from time to time, in between trying to focus on my bigger hits. Sometimes I just open one and begin reading what I’d already written, refreshing my memory and contemplating where I want the story to go.

I’ve considered other forms of storytelling as well. Otome games have my interest, specifically, because of the nature of them; a single protagonist and multiple love interests with their own unique tales to tell. I love that format and have tried crafting numerous stories for them, but they’ve yet to gain any real ground.

This is partly because it’s a huge undertaking. It’d require more than myself to get them made. I can do art and writing, but I know little to nothing of coding. I’m unsure how I would turn words and images into a novella-type game. Originally I wanted Fluxx and Kyone’s help -- Kyone because I felt her art is better than mine, and Fluxx because she has experience coding. I tried to get them involved. They did not get involved.

As far as otome games are concerned, I am alone.

But this is fine. I am a better writer than anything else -- better than I am an artist, a gamer, or a friend, based on my history. So I’ll continue to write. And if I never truly create an original story, if I never get published, if I never receive royalties for my years of painstaking effort, then so be it.

I made people happy. I made people gush and scream and keyboard-smash. I made people laugh and cry. I made people fall in love with that which I love.

That’s enough.

I’ll see you soon with more updates. My stories are not yet finished.

- Nightshade

#siren nightshade #autobiography #sfw #written #personal

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