even though it had nothing to do with the screenplay she was writing

@klangst-week Day 2: Mistake

I wrote this literally within the past hour and a quarter - please forgive any mistakes.

Rating: G+

WC: 974

AU: Due to a corrupted wormhole jump between realities, a la S2 Ep1, Altean!Lance has switched bodies with human!Lance and is having a hard time adjusting to this temporary situation

Also, Keith dies

Warnings: Mentioned MCD

          There were so many things different about this universe.

    Ever since the corrupted wormhole, and Lance swapping bodies with another universe’s version of himself, he was finding it hard to cope. While Hunk, Coran and the others tried to figure out how to get Lance back (and their Lance back), there was little more Lance could do than try to keep up with the others. It wasn’t hard, in terms of training and going on missions and such. He was adept at strategy and he was very highly trained in several types of combat.

    What he was having problems coping with was how different everything was here. For starters, the Paladins. He was unaccustomed to a sort of divide between the lot of them. There were little cliques they were all separated into, even among their own race. It was nothing like the unified team of Paladins Lance once knew.

Keep reading

Tattoos: Remastered

If asked, Jinki would tell you he’d been cursed with his tattoo at the age of 16 and his life seemed to have gone downhill from there. Ever since that fateful day, he couldn’t make heads or tales of the marking. Jinki sat in front of his birthday cake—his 16th, the “coming of age,”—and he knew that as soon as the clock struck midnight, the first words spoken to him by his soulmate would appear somewhere on his body, as it had for everyone else.

Keep reading

5 Things (5/30/17)

1. I’m in Cinque Terre right now. Kelly is off on a hike and I’m laying low in our little B&B, reading, and wondering if I’ll even leave the room today. We’ve been traveling all over this country since May 19th, nearly non-stop. I’m exhausted. I’m in love with this area, much more than Rome and La Val, but only slightly more than Florence. I don’t know whether I want to walk to the top of a hill and revisit the cemetery, walk to the beach and sit in front of the water for the rest of the day, or stay right where I am, reading, listening to birdsong. None of these are bad choices. These are all privileged choices. And I kind of wish I could forget that, just for a moment.

I had a small crying fit on our third night in Italy. Right after dinner, we returned to our room and I started weeping almost immediately. Here’s something you should know: I am not great at taking vacations. Not real ones anyway. In fact, most of what I have traditionally called “vacations” are actually dutiful trips back home to Indiana in which I am pulled in a million different directions to visit a million different friends and family members, and inevitably end up disappointing a third of them with my lack of time to come through or my lack of mental presence when I do. Even vacations with Kel’s family, while amazing and usually unlike anything I’ve ever done with my own family, can be emotionally exhausting for someone like me. Someone who likes quiet, and long lazy afternoons. However, what those “vacations” provided me in spades were new experiences and distraction. This is why my current vacation made me cry. I’ve taken a real break. I’m really only doing what I want to do, and I’m doing it with my favorite person. But there is no consistent distraction. I am forced to feel, without having to wear the mask of self-containment or confidence. I get the long and lazy afternoons I wanted, and my mind fills them with all the thoughts, fears, and insecurities I’ve been distracting myself from for months. Maybe years. Go figure.

2. Kelly proposed the weekend before we left. I said yes, of course. He’d planned on proposing the day before the trip, but the combination of his own excitement and my over dinner confession that at times I don’t feel like I’m the kind of person who gets to be loved unconditionally, not for very long anyway, inspired him to ask me to marry him that same night. We’d talked about getting married before. I knew it was coming soon. Kelly is really bad at not being obvious about having a happy secret. I thought he might do it while we were in Italy. I was excited. Even if I couldn’t convince myself that I, as I am, could be loved unconditionally, I was certain I’d let him try. I’ve been certain about that for a long time. Because he already knew I’d want to pick my own engagement ring, he bought us matching Avengers novelty rings with green gamma ray insignia. We’re both huge fans of Marvel, and particularly The Hulk. It was perfect. He’s amazing.

I never thought I’d be significantly excited to be engaged. It just seemed like a small and barely necessary step to doing the real work of being married and building a life with someone. I am startled by my excitement. I am shocked by my desire to have a wedding day, even if I still want it to be one that looks like us, without too much fanfare or traditional happenings. I’ve been poring over four issues of the wedding magazine Catalyst, a gift from our family-friends Angel & Shira, and soaking up every idea that looks like something we would do if we were just throwing a party without the added pressure of an impending marriage. It’s the only magazine I’ve found that seems relevant to me, and my style. I can’t believe I’m reading wedding magazine that applies to my life. I can’t believe that thinking about my wedding day makes me smile so hard it becomes hard for me to stop. I can’t believe that my father will see me get married and my grandmother won’t. But Kelly is a constant. He is my constant. I am so excited–and so ready–to marry him.

3. This is my first time writing anything since we’ve been on this trip. I needed the break. And now, my head is spinning with ideas about what I want to do next. In my book, in my screenplay, for my job…there is so much I have to look forward to when I get back. And I am looking forward to it all.

4. My doctor is encouraging me to try a very specific diet to combat the symptoms of my PCOS. Part of me is willing to try anything. The other part of me is skeptical. Very skeptical. One of signs of the diet working would be me losing weight. A lot of weight. I’ve struggled with my weight most of my life due to callous commentary from people who loved me and just the general poison of societal standards of beauty. Typical stuff. But I’m feeling good about the way my body looks most of the time now. I don’t want to go back to judging myself harshly over the number on the scale. I just don’t need that shit. I also don’t want to be unhealthy. I’m going to try the diet. I might lose weight. And I’m going to cross my fingers that no one assumes I’m doing it for the wedding. Because I’m not, and I wouldn’t.

Seriously. If I lose a bunch of weight before this wedding, know that it had nothing to do with wanting to a look thinner on a “special day” and it had everything to do with my blood sugar, and reproductive health. I don’t know why it bothers me so much, the idea that someone might assume I lost weight to fit into a wedding dress or look good in pictures, but it does. That’s probably silly. But like…is it? I’ve watched friends over the past few years lose weight for a myriad of reasons, mostly health related. They’re sick and their bodies are suffering and the world is telling them how amazing they look, and it turns my stomach. I remember losing weight because I was depressed and once because I was so poor I was eating a half a sandwich twice a day with bread and meat I stole from my roommates and hoped they wouldn’t notice, even though they would have given them to me without hesitation. They were good guys. But I was embarrassed. Everyone was commenting on how good I looked, and I was eating so little I couldn’t even make a bowel movement every day.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, I want to be healthy, but I don’t want to fear my fat the way the rest of the world seems to. I don’t want to think it’s good or normal to want to be thin at all costs, especially when the cost is your mental or physical health. I don’t want to think that wearing a bikini, even if I’m self-conscious about it, is brave. Maybe it is, but it shouldn’t be. It should just be a thing I wore. And feeling comfortable in my body shouldn’t have to be such a struggle because it’s hard to find clothes that fit me correctly. And I’m a size 16! Imagine what it’s like for a woman who is a size 20 or 28 or larger? I would like to be able to just be in my body without fearing how the world will react to my size. That is wishful thinking, I know. But I still wish.

5. We both cried when he proposed. He started, and I soon followed. This is the first time I’ve been in a relationship where I am not the emotional lead. Kelly grew up in a home of emotional safety. He could talk to his parents about anything, and often did. When he was being bullied at school, when he was falling in love, when he was angry with them, when he was excited about something new he’d learned, when he was afraid…everything. It is not that he hasn’t known emotional pain. He certainly has. But he has always had this emotional safety net in them, this freedom to be exactly as he is, and express exactly how he feels.
In my home, there was no such freedom. I am still sitting in therapy once a week unraveling all the ways my current emotional obstacles sprouted from a childhood where my mother’s anger ruled her household and my heart.

While we were staying in a hotel in the Dolomite mountains, Kelly asked me what I’d like to do, what did I find fun on vacation? And I told him I didn’t really know. I didn’t grow up in a house where I was asked what would be fun for me or what would I enjoy doing. Sometimes fun things happened, sometimes we went to fun places, and whether I liked it or not was irrelevant. I had to appreciate it. And so, I’ve grown into an adult who knows how to appreciate most things, and few ideas what she would do to have fun intentionally. For many years, this felt like a superpower. Did I want to go to this movie or that one? Didn’t matter. I could appreciate both. Did I want to eat here or there? Read this book or that book? Go to this bar or that one? It rarely mattered. I was, and still can be, ambivalent to the point of invisibility. Now, when I don’t like something, I say so. And when I really really do, I really say so. But those strong opinions are far and few between. I am playing catch up. There’s still so much I don’t know about what I want.

Several years ago, when Kelly flew from Seattle to Indianapolis, showed up on my doorstep and kissed me, I didn’t know what I wanted. A few days later, when he told me he loved me in front of my favorite tree, and had for a long time, I didn’t know what I wanted. Each time, his certainty made me feel safe enough to try to figure out what I wanted. That’s something he’s always given me: room to figure out how I feel. For him, this is second nature. He has always been given room to figure out how he feels. This was his parent’s gift to him, this soft place to land. Today, he gives me the same gift. He encourages me to continue to appreciate everything, but know what I prefer, and go after it as wildly as I wish. My love for Kelly has never been about how he keeps me close, as much as it has been about how he encourages me to fly out and away in the direction of my heart’s deepest desires. Especially the ones I learned to bury in my childhood. Especially the ones that scare me. I can not explain to you how good it feels to want what I want, to know what I want, and to finally have a home that is also a soft place to land.

Madancy Movie Night 2: The Reckoning

Egged on by precisely no one, @avidreadr2004 and I consigned ourselves to the lot of the eternally traumatised and tormented.  On Wednesday night, armed with tea, ginger ale, and what I’m told is quite good vodka, we watched Basic Instinct 2.

We barely escaped with our lives.

As it turns out, if you want to venture into Hell, using the buddy system is a quite good tactic.

Highlight reel below the cut:

(NOTE:  It is long.  Very long.  Because this film is so terrible that the only way I could cope was by continually typing out sarcastic comments of decreasing coherence and increasing capitalisation.  On the other hand, ow, my fingers.)

Keep reading


Hello! this is something I’ve been working on for a while, and I really hope you guys like it!

pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

summary: Reader and Steve Rogers have a lot of history, and they both like each other, but they really try to cover it up. One night after the reader is asked to wait up for Steve after one of his dates things happen and feelings come to light.

word count: 3569

warnings: fluff, some language?? basically nothing.


I had waited up for the one and only Steven Grant Rogers to get back from his date. He had been raving about this girl he had met the last time he went to the coffee shop a few blocks away. He had been trying to get back into society and, I don’t know why but he thought that hanging out in coffee shops would help him. He may have been watching too many hipster films. He had been really excited about picking her up, and had done so about three hours earlier. he had asked me to wait up because he wanted to tell me all about the date. I guess that’s what best friends do, though I sort of wish I hadn’t agreed to do so.

Now it’s nearly midnight and I’m trying my hardest not to fall asleep on the couch in the living area of the Avengers tower. I may have super-human strength, but I don’t have the ability to keep myself lucid for nearly twenty-four hours. Come on, Steve, what’s taking so long? Right as I had thought this I hear the ding of an elevator and soon after the heavy footfalls of Steve’s boots. Sitting up slightly I look behind me and see him shuffling wearily towards the couch. He finally reaches the cushioned wonder and flops down next to me and just sighs.

“So… How was the date?” I ask, though I think I already know the answer.

He shoots me a look filled with exhaustion and disappointment. I hold my hands up in mock defence and Steve lets his head fall back onto the back of the couch.

“That bad huh?”

“I have no idea what made me think I could go out with a barista.” He says in exasperation.

“Dude. You’re from the forties. You were in love with one of the most badass chicks to ever live. There really is no one who can compare to that.” I intone, my sympathy hopefully evident.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.” He agrees. “Why does dating in the twenty first century have to be so hard?”

“No one knows cap. That’s why I tend to distance myself from it.” I pat him on the shoulder in a pitiful attempt at comfort. “Don’t worry, Steve. You’ll find the perfect girl.”

“Thank you, (Y/N).” He says, turning his head slightly to look at me.

“No problem doll.” I say in turn.

“That’s my line!” Steve protests.

“Not anymore!” I say getting up and heading to my room. “Goodnight Captain.”

“Goodnight.” He calls after me, not moving from his place on the couch.


In my room, I change into pyjamas and go through my nightly routine. Throughout the process I’m thinking about Steve. That man is my best friend. My metaphorical partner in crime. My literal partner in stopping criminal actions. He and I had become friends after he had been thawed. I had been brought in through S.H.I.E.L.D. and we instantly hit it off. It was in the midst of the New York incident that we lost touch. A couple years later he and I bumped into each other at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ when he and the Black Widow had been brought in on some super secret task force. Of course that was right before the entire organization practically disintegrated. After that we had kept in touch. When the Avengers team had been opened up to more powered people Steve brought me in to help. He and I had hung out between missions whenever possible.

I don’t know why he insisted on having me wait up for him after every single one of his dates. He had to know by now that I really didn’t give a shit about the girls he asked out. He was always disappointed by them. One was too short, another’s laugh was too annoying. It seems like anything that wasn’t exactly the way he had expected or wanted it to be was a turn off for him. At this point it’s hard to not feel at least a little bit exasperated with the man. Not every woman can be a damn Peggy Carter. She’s like an endangered species in which only one can survive in the world at a time or else the balance of badassery is offset. It’s hard for anyone to compare to that level of badass. In all honesty I remember when I first met him and got to know him, I had a rather large crush on Steve. I mean, he had this lost dog air about him that made you want to take him home and make sure he got a good meal, had a warm place to sleep and someone to give him unconditional love. But after a while those feelings started to diminish. The next time I saw him I felt nothing but friendship towards him. But when he starts talking about the new girls he’s asked on dates there’s a nagging feeling of anger and a thought that ‘Hey, you shouldn’t be asking them out. You should be asking me.’ It goes away quickly enough, but I hate to recognize that my romantic feelings for him are still caught up in my head.


:Steve’s POV:

           I watched her leave the room and as soon as she was gone I groaned, burying my face in my hands. Damn if (Y/N) wasn’t one of the most amazing people in the world. She’s not afraid to call me out on my crap. She definitely sees right through the terrible excuse that I call dating. It is true that my date went horribly tonight though. All the woman seemed capable of talking about was the coffee beans they used in her coffee house, the shitty screenplay she’d been writing, and how much of a fan she was of my “work in the community”. The date ended with me dropping her off at the entrance to her apartment building and her throwing herself on me and giving me the most disgusting kiss I had ever had the displeasure of receiving. Just remembering the sloppy mess makes me wipe my mouth because I swear I can still feel traces of her saliva around my lips.

I look up to find Natasha standing in front of me, arms crossed and tapping her foot in annoyance.

“What?” I ask her.

“You’re just going to let her walk away like that? After talking about finding the perfect girl? What the hell’s wrong with you Rogers?” She lectures.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean Nat. I haven’t done anything.”

“That’s the point Steve. You haven’t done anything. You can’t let her get away. You’re not going to get another chance with some other perfect girl.”

“I honestly don’t think (Y/N) would be thinking of me like that.”

“You don’t?” Nat raises an eyebrow in surprise. “Do you not see how annoyed she gets when you ask her to wait up for you so you can tell her all about your shitty dates? She does it anyways. She obviously hates it when you talk about the girls you’ve taken on dates, but she listens because she wants you to be happy, even if it’s not her that’s making you happy.”

“She hates it when I talk about the girls?” I am honestly surprised. (Y/N) never complains about anything I’ve asked her to do, or anyone I’ve talked to her about.

“Yes. When you tell her you’ve asked out some girl you’ve just met she does this little flinch thing.” She responds. “Just go ask her.”

“Nat, I can’t just ask her about this stuff. It’s a sensitive topic.”

“You’re just saying that to convince yourself to not do it.” She says in exasperation.

“Even if I am, I still couldn’t do it.” I say. “I just cant… I dont… ugh, I just can’t okay?”

“You’re just scared to find out the answer, Steve.” Natasha says sternly.

That statement made me quiet up real quick. I had never really put much thought into my feelings for (Y/N). She and I had just always said that we were friends. Sure at the beginning of our relationship I had found her attractive. What man wouldn’t? She’s smart, funny, beautiful, and honestly the most supportive person you could ever come across. In all honesty I felt a little twinge of disappointment when she had said that she tried to distance herself from dating as much as possible earlier. Is it possible that I still like her? It definitely isn’t impossible. My feelings have probably resurfaced and my shitty dating career is a sad attempt to suppress them.

“You’re right, Nat.” I concede.

“Of course I am.” She turns away from me and heads to her room. “Just go tell her how you feel. Its about damn time the two of you were happy.”


:readers POV:

I was brushing my teeth when there was a knock on my door. It’s almost 1:30 in the morning. Who the hell is knocking at my door? Shoving the thought aside I shuffle to the door, toothbrush hanging out of my mouth, and open it to find Steve taking up the whole doorway with his large stature. He’s got his hands in the pockets of his jeans and his shoulders are hunched forward slightly.

“’S there somethin I can do to help you, Steve?” I ask, talking around my toothbrush.

He just stands there looking at me, like he doesn’t know what to say or why he’s even there for that matter. I just look right back at him, waiting for a reply. It never comes and he just walks away without a word. I lean on the doorframe and poke my head out into the hallway watching him leave, absolutely perplexed. What the hell just happened? I just shrug it off, close my door, and go back to brushing my teeth.

That was one of the most odd things I have ever witnessed Steve do. I mean, I’ve seen him eat a sandwich in approximately three bites, but seeing him look so absolutely lost is a little disconcerting considering how every single time I’ve been with him during a battle he’s known exactly what he’s doing and where he’s going. What could have been going through his mind? Did I do something wrong? Well shit. If I’ve done something that’s upset him enough for him to not talk to me it must have been pretty bad.

Still contemplating the encounter I rinse out my mouth, shuffle to my bed and get under the covers. The bed warms up rather quickly and soon enough my worries melt away as I slip into sleep.


:Steve’s POV:

What the hell did I just do? Did I really just stand there in her doorway and stare at her like an idiot? Peggy was right. I really do not know how to talk to women.

I open the door to my room and upon closing it, flop down face first onto my bed.

“Hey steve can I help you?” I mimick (Y/N)’s voice. “Oh no, (Y/N), it’s nothing. I’m just totally caught up on you, but I can’t even talk to you like a normal person now because I just realized it. Sorry to bother you.“

My voice is muffled and lost in the down of my comforter, which I am extremely grateful for. I really am the worst person to have feelings for aren’t I? I can pick up on the feelings of everyone around me, but not (Y/N). After ten minutes I finally pick myself up and go through the motions of getting ready for sleep. I shower quickly and then tug on a pair of pyjama pants, all the while trying to think of how to confess my feelings to (Y/N). What to say, how to say it, even how position my body when I say it.

I finally realize that I’m overthinking this entire thing and fling open my door and head down the hallway back the way I had come previously. I arrive at (Y/N)’s door and take a few breaths before raising my hand and knocking.


:Readers POV:

A very soft knocking noise rouses me from my sleep. I sit up and look at the clock. With my blurry sleep vision I discern that it’s about 2:30 am. What the hell. I’ve only been asleep for an hour. What is it with this tower?

The knock comes again and I manage to hoist myself from my warm bed and shuffle to the door. I open it, rubbing sleep from my eyes, once again finding Steve before me. He’s only wearing pyjama pants and his hair is hanging damp on his forehead. His shoulders are much more relaxed than the last time I saw him, and his gaze holds an intensity that I’ve never seen from him before.

"Hey, Steve.” I say, my voice sounds just as blurry as my vision feels. “What’s up?”

“Sorry, did I wake you?” He asks, his brow furrowing. “At this hour I half expected you to be writing or something.”

“Yeah, but it’s okay. I’ll let it slide, but only because it’s you, Steve.” I stand on tip toes and brush his hair out of his eyes, and use my thumb to massage the scrunched up place between his eyebrows to get it to relax, which it does. “Is there something you need to talk to me about?”

“It can wait till morning.” He says, catching one of my hands in his and running his thumb over the back of it making goose bumps prickle up along my arm. “You’re obviously really tired.”

“No, Steve. Come on!” I whine. “You had something to say earlier and you need to say it. I don’t want us to end up awkward and incapable of talking to each other.”

“Alright.” He sighs loudly. “You promise you won’t laugh at me?”

I make an X over my heart with my free hand and then hold it up like a kid would. I nod and giggle a little making him frown a little bit.

“Steve, just tell me! I promise I won’t laugh. It’s obviously serious.” He studies my face for a moment and nods slightly.

“I like you, (Y/N).” He whispers. “I really, really like you. I’m so sweet on you that if you put my feelings in your morning tea you wouldn’t be able to stand it. Dammit, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I’m sorry I made you stay up so late every time I had a stupid date and I’m sorry I talked about the people I went out with so much. I- I’m just sorry I’m so late.”

“Holy shit.” I whisper in turn. “Well, this definitely is serious.”

“(Y/N), I understand if you don’t feel the same about me.” He says, placing his free hand on the back of his neck and scratching awkwardly. “I was kind of late on confessing my feelings to you. I just, I had to tell you. Thank you for not laughing though. That’s much a-”

“Steve, stop. You never let me tell you how I feel.” I cut him off by covering his mouth with my hand. His eyes widen, questioning me, like he didn’t expect me to say anything. “Oh please. Did you really expect me to not say anything? Me? I mean come on Steve, we’ve known each other long enough for you to know better than that.”

He removes my hand from his mouth and holds it in his, now having captured both of my hands. He looks down at them and then back up to meet my eyes. Damn, his eyes are really blue.

“How do you feel?” His words are barely audible.

“Steve, I really like you. Honestly, I like you a lot more than I want to admit because damn you are one of the most perfect humans that I have ever laid eyes on.” The words just tumble out of my mouth. “In all honesty, I’ve had feelings for since we met and I’m not exactly proud to admit to the fact that I shoved them down because I was terrified, absolutely terrified that you wouldn’t feel the same way, and yet here I am spilling my very guts to you because you make me feel safe. You’re amazing, strong, smart and so kind I don’t know how you manage it. I’m so jealous of the people you’ve asked out because they’ve gotten to see a side of you that I’ve always wanted to see. And, y'know, it’s really hard for me to concentrate right now because you’re not wearing a shirt. So thank you for that.”

He just stares at me, eyes wide and unblinking. His mouth opens and closes like he wants to say something, but can’t quite find the words. He kind of looks like a fish out of water. It’s scaring me a little after what I’ve just said.

“Steve?” I say quietly, looking up into his eyes. “Please say something, you’re freaking me out a little.”

Then suddenly he’s moving. With one hand on my waist, pulling me towards him, he’s got the other on the back of my neck guiding my face to his and locking our mouths together in a kiss. I bring my own hands up to cup the sides of his face, and his hand on the back of my neck tangles into the hair at the base. He’s the first to break away, resting his forehead on mine. My fingertips rest on the outline of his jaw, my thumbs placed beside each other on his chin.


:Steve’s POV:

I cannot believe (Y/N) just said that she liked me. Holy shit, I cannot believe that I just kissed her. And what’s even better, she kissed back.

She’s got her fingertips resting around the outline of my jaw, and everywhere they touch feels like it’s on fire. It’s amazing. With our foreheads pressed together she sighs, somewhat dreamily.

“I was terrified to tell you.” I confess.

“What?” She sounds confused. “Why?”

“It’s going to sound ridiculous, but after you had said that you try to distance yourself from dating I got nervous.”

“What made you tell me then?” She asks.

“You promise you won’t be upset if I tell you?”

“Since when do I get unnecessarily upset with you?”

“Nat convinced me.”

“Really?” She says, pulling away from me to look into my eyes. After a short time she just shrugs. “Figures. She can be really influential when she wants to be.”

“So you’re not upset?” I ask, shifting my hand that was on her neck down to rest on her waist.

“Of course not.” She whispers.

She flicks her eyes from my eyes to my lips and then back again. She moves one hand from my jaw to the back of my neck and, standing on tip toes, she pulls herself up and connects our mouths in a second kiss. She then slowly snaked her arms around the back of my neck and pulled her body flush to mine. The contact set the exposed skin of my chest on fire. She deepens the kiss and bites my bottom lip slightly.

“(Y/N)…” I breath. My reaction makes her chuckle, the slightly raspy sound reverberates in my mouth, and I can feel her smile against my lips. The entire experience is extremely satisfying.

At least it was until something made her pull away abruptly.


:readers POV:

Holy shit. Did I just make Steve call my name? If I had bitten him any harder he may have moaned. I’ll just have to tuck that away for next time then.

I heard the door across the hall open, and I quickly break away from the absolutely amazing kiss to see a very tired Bruce Banner squinting at Steve and I from his bedroom. I quickly pull Steve into my room and close the door behind me. Once I hear the mechanism click I slide my back down the door, looking up at a very confused Steve.

“Banner may or may not have just seen us making out in my doorway.” I explain, a deep crimson blush spreading across my face. Steve’s face is just as, if not more red than mine.

“Should I go back to my room? I mean it’s late and I really don’t want to keep you up any longer.”

“Only if you want to.” I stand from my place against my door and go to sit on the bed.

“You want me to stay?” He sounds so surprised.

“Steve, I always want you to stay.” I whisper. “I don’t mean in a sexual way, I just like having you near me.”

He quickly and quietly picks me up and sets me on the other side of the bed, and he soon joins me. Pulling the covers over the two of us, he pulls me closer to his body and I curl into his chest.

“Then I’ll stay.” He whispers.

We lay together in silence, the bed growing warmer and warmer and keeping my eyes open gets harder and harder.

“So Bruce saw us kissing huh?” Steve asks.

“Yeah.” I answer.


Why Reylo Should DEFINITELY NOT Happen

Is this an unpopular opinion now?

Disclaimer: I am not anti-Kylo. I love Kylo Ren for the potential his character does have (view profile picture!). I do not excuse any of his actions, but I do understand that had he not been mentally fucked by Snoke as an impressionable adolescent and had he not pushed away everyone who cared about him and tried to help, he would not be in this mess. Very much Snoke’s fault, very much his own. I love Rey for the beautiful being and character she is. How strong she is, her emotionality, and her fierce and beautiful desires. I am a fan of both Rey and Kylo Ren, so please do not take this as me saying one is too good for the other. 

Well, everyone knows how very, very sure I am of myself when I say Rey is Rey Skywalker. This would make her Kylo’s first cousin, their parents being twins, so that is very, very fucked up to begin with. This is the MAJOR, and first, reason I was ever anti-Reylo. 

But let’s PRETEND she isn’t Rey Skywalker. Maybe she’s Rey Kenobi or Rey whatever. It doesn’t matter. Let’s PRETEND she’s not a Skywalker, even though that is so wildly unlikely. View the attached videos to the last few words to see why I say it is that.

Have you viewed the videos? No? Well, I suggest you do. But whatever…I don’t know your schedule nor your interest level in this. Anyway, moving on…

So I’m sure you’re wondering, “Why, if you love both of the characters and they weren’t related, would you not ship them together?”

Simple: Because it is insulting to their characters, detrimental to the character development they could potentially have, and ends Star Wars for good.

I can hear the jeering now, “Those are some WILD assertions. How can you prove this, OP?”


We have only been just introduced to them as characters, so how would I truly understand their motivations and who they really are? Well, to tell you the truth, I am one of those people who knows who people are based on how they act and respond to situations. It’s easy for me to predict what you will want and how you will act later. If I am so confident after TFA that I am willing to put myself on the line for jeering and my opinion up to all criticism on this website littered with differing opinions, I must be pretty confident that I know what I’m talking about. Especially true because I avoid conflict at pretty much all cost. So here goes…

Kylo Ren is a child trapped in a man of 30′s body. He pushed everyone who loved him away and was brainwashed by someone who cared only about what he could do for them. Kylo Ren’s main desire is that he wants to be wanted, he wants someone to be proud of him. He is unstable, unpolished, and very, very frightened…of Snoke, of himself, and of what he feels inside him. He is not emotionally mature enough, at least at this point, to handle a romantic relationship…at least a healthy one, one that which Rey would hypothetically deserve. And even though Kylo is allegedly more “polished” in TLJ, deep-seated fears like those just don’t go away. 

Rey is a grown adult. She grew up alone by nothing more than circumstances brought on by her parents, of whom we don’t (but probably do) know. Rey is 19…probably 21 by this movie…and has dealt with way too much in her life. She is emotional, but strong. She is fiercely loyal and desires nothing greater than to belong somewhere and feel that she belongs. She has every capability to have a healthy romantic relationship, but she doesn’t seem to really push for that. She desires friends and companionship and belonging, but not…a romantic relationship. At some point may she? Probably, but she doesn’t seem like the type of person, in my opinion, to prioritize a romantic entanglement. She is just getting her footing in the new world outside of Jakku. 

Now, keep all that in mind while I explain why it’s insulting to their characters and the franchise itself!

I am writer myself. I am, admittedly, predominantly a songwriter. I have written screenplays and short stories and whatnot…you may have seen one of my screenplay ideas for Kylo Ren’s redemption because I did, at one point, post a few of them on Tumblr. However, not the point. 

I took a screenwriting class about 2 years ago in college. Stay with me here! There was one time, I remember, we had an assignment for a short screenplay. I was writing a story…I don’t remember about what exactly, but I remember how much trouble I was having in keeping it within the time limit and due date I had. Finally, I had 3 days left to hand it in and still was trying to think of a decent way to end it. I had ideas and ideas that I loved, but the only thing that fit within the page limit and that would allow me to hand it in on time was the ending I hated…but it was the only choice I had at this point. I did it. I had the main antagonist fall in love with the main protagonist. I hated myself for it and it dissected their characters and destroyed the story, but I did it. I handed that paper in on time and in the page limit I had. 

You see what I’m getting at, don’t you?

I used…a cop-out. 

And that’s what endgame Reylo is. 

A cop-out. 

A cop-out is, as I’m sure you all know, something you do when you have no other choice or can’t think of a way to bring about your next goal. You do it because you gotta do it to make what you want happen happen. In this case, making Reylo canon would bring about a natural close to the saga. 

But at what cost?!

Star Wars, as I’m sure we’re all aware, is littered with themes that extend back to the beginning time of storytelling. Good versus evil being the most notable theme, familial love, love in general. A lot of basic AF themes, but all good stories tend to have similar themes. We all know that because there are truly only 6-8 real stories in life and cinema. You can only have so many good things. 

Now, TROPES are a different monster all together. Redemption is a trope that Star Wars utilizes a lot and that’s okay because it makes sense and grounds their good versus evil theme. Also, the Star Wars universe is so expansive and well-designed that it’s even kind of difficult to identify the trope until you really step back and say…”…huh.” It’s fine to utilize some tropes in wonderful movies. Don’t get me wrong…

But not when it sacrifices your characters. 

The trope I will be talking about now is the one in which “the bad guy falls in love with the good girl and shirks his bad ways to make her happy and be with her”. We all know what I’m talking about. And we all know how played out it is. We’re all tired of it.

How many movies have we seen this year with the very same endgame trope? 12? more? I don’t know, I barely go to the movies anymore. 

Do you want Kylo Ren and Rey’s character identity as it stands and their potential character development to devolve, which that’s what it is, into a romantic endgame? 

That is my question for you. 

Kylo Ren has the potential to pull a Vader and decide for himself, with the help of the people whom he pushed away earlier and those new friends, that what he’s doing is wrong. Darth Vader decided that when his son’s life, whom believed steadfastly in his goodness, was threatened that what he was doing was wrong and changed because he wanted to. Luke did not coerce, did not guilt, did not even truly fully persuade Darth Vader to turn back. But having Rey profess her love or even Kylo admit he is in love as a method of change is such a disservice to both of their characters. You are eliminating the fact that Kylo Ren must take responsibility for what he’s done and make amends as necessary. 

To degrade Rey’s very presence in the series to a method to bring about change in her male counterpart is disgusting to me. Her potential to grow as a Force-user, her potential to be stronger than Luke, her potential to be her own person is GONE. We all know this to be true. Once she becomes the object of the male villain’s affections, she becomes a sex symbol, she becomes nothing more than an object, and she is now forever thought of as “Kylo Ren’s Girlfriend” and not “Rey”. She becomes his property in the thoughts and minds of fans and those not fans because she loses her own name when that happens because now all that matters is the relationship. 

To use a female of Rey’s caliber to FORCE CHANGE in a male such as Kylo is reprehensible because it negates his need for true redemption, for taking responsibility, for fighting back from the Darkness. We all know Kylo needs to show effort because of who he is. He is denying and fighting the light, so therefore, he needs to fight the Darkness even harder. But…

If they fall in love…we all know, that’s all that will be remembered. 

Not who Rey really is. Not what she could have been. Not Kylo’s struggle to turn back. Not his betrayal of Supreme Leader Snoke. 

It’s all just them falling in love now…

Do you want that for Star Wars?

Because you know that’s what would happen. “Search your feelings, you know it to be true.” 

I, personally, would not want that for this amazing franchise that has literally brought people joy for 40 years. 

Aside from that, if they did fall in love and potentially go on to have children, that would be the end of Star Wars. 

I know Return of the Jedi was kind of that way too. ROTJ was really a nicely tied bow on top of a Christmas present, sealing the whole Saga of 6 (yeah, I know ROTJ came out before the Prequels!)

TFA is really a second Christmas present for someone. 

Since X, XI, and XII are all confirmed, if Kylo and Rey get together in IX, I do not see where they could go from there, especially considering they’re probably intending to follow the formula from before where the first saga was Anakin and Luke’s story, this saga really couldn’t be Kylo and Rey’s. IX would feel too final for people to want to rehash and reopen the gift. They’d lose viewers. They’d lose revenue. They’d lose our trust. If something feels too final, people won’t want to come back to it. That’s the problem with older people not liking TFA and the new trilogies. ROTJ was too final. But now that we have this and I’m open-minded to the new story, I’m all in…but 


And Reylo is not the right way. 

It would bring everything to a natural close before its time. I don’t know if I’d want to come back to SW after that because I don’t see the potential for a future in the series with that as a trilogy-closer. 

Now, I’m done. I’m just trying to let you all see what I’m seeing here. The quote that Rian Johnson made in the NYT that “Rey and Kylo are really two sides of the same protagonist” is the truth, but it, in no way, alludes to Reylo becoming canon. If anything, it alludes to: 1) Kylo’s Redemption or 2) Rey’s Turn to the Dark Side. 

Now please understand…I’m not trying to make y’all feel anything if you ship Reylo. This is just how I feel and how a lot of others feel. I’m very Pro-Kylo and very Anti-Reylo and I admit that. But I have legitimate reasons and legitimate concerns for the future of the franchise if Reylo sets sail. 

Halloween 2017 movie marathon: Frankenstein (dir. James Whale, 1931)

Dangerous? Poor old Waldman. Have you never wanted to do anything that was dangerous? Where should we be if no one tried to find out what lies beyond? Have your never wanted to look beyond the clouds and the stars, or to know what causes the trees to bud? And what changes the darkness into light? But if you talk like that, people call you crazy. Well, if I could discover just one of these things, what eternity is, for example, I wouldn’t care if they did think I was crazy.”

College graduate Henry Frankenstein (Colin Clive) decides to bunk out in a watchtower with his crazy hunchback assistant Fritz (Dwight Frye) and reanimate a dead body. This shocks his conservative mentor Dr. Waldman (Edward van Sloan), fiancée Elizabeth (Mae Clarke), and the storyline’s mandatory normal guy Victor Moritz (John Boles). Henry isn’t too worried about the whole thing, even if his creation was accidentally fashioned with a criminal brain. Unfortunately, the Monster (Boris Karloff) is abused, demonized, and cast aside once its behavior becomes slightly unpredictable. When the Monster escapes from the tower, Henry finds he needs to try and clean up this tragedy of his own making before the bodies start piling up.

These days, everybody begins their reviews of Frankenstein the same way: “Do we need another review of James Whale’s masterwork?” “What else can be said about Frankenstein?” Frankenstein is in that same category as Star Wars: so iconic and influential, so quoted in the popular culture that it seems redundant to talk about it and downright impossible to view it with fresh eyes. Even people unschooled in classic horror could pick out scenes: the grave-robbing, the creation of life in the lab, the little girl by the lake, the bride stalked in her chamber, the burning windmill and the angry mob. So, is the common refrain true? Should I not even bother writing this? Well, if you tell me not to do something—I’m going to do it anyway and do it with gusto! And though we may sneer and scoff, call this movie primitive, Frankenstein still retains a strange power once you cast off that 21st century cynicism and allow yourself to succumb to its spell.

People often ask “did 1930s audiences ACTUALLY find this scary?” And yes, disbelieving reader, they did. 1931 audiences had an advantage we don’t after almost a century of pop cultural osmosis: they got to see all of this with fresh eyes, without Young Frankenstein or anything else coloring their perception. There had been a handful of cinematic and theatrical adaptations of Mary Shelley’s novel before, but nothing proved as memorable as Universal’s version. Looking at Karloff’s make-up alone today, so much of the impact is diminished because of how iconic it is, but if you were a normal cinema-goer back in 1931, it must have been startling. These people were not exposed to modern zombie flicks; Hollywood movies, even in the pre-code age, generally never showed anything like a decaying body. But Karloff’s cadaverous face, imposing physique, and heavy walk must have seemed grotesque.

When the Monster makes his entrance, we get a progressive close-up, honing in on his intense, half-dead stare, forcing the audience to take in every unseemly detail of his haunting visage. One must also remember that the original audience by that point had no clue as to what the Monster would do or if he was criminally lethal. We’re told he’s been implanted with a criminal brain, but Frankenstein and Waldman debate as to whether or not this will affect the Monster’s behavior. This tension probably fed much of the audience’s suspense and kept them terrified once the Monster was loose, even as Karloff and Whale endowed the character with pathos. One of the original newspaper ads for the film claimed of the Monster, “You hate it… fear it… yet it wrings your heart with pity!”

James Whale was a champion of the outsider in many of his films, whether that outsider was a monster, a shell-shocked soldier, or a lonely prostitute. As much as the characters in this movie preach about not transgressing in God’s domain, you know Whale’s totally behind Henry and his unnatural creation. He certainly has no sympathy for Henry’s unpleasable father who criticizes his son for not settling down like a good aristocrat or Dr. Waldman, a scientist with the mindset of a medieval clergyman. Indeed, Waldman is arguably the most loathsome character in the film, crying for the Monster’s head before it harms anyone and even going back on his promise to dispose of the Monster gently, deciding a vivisection before murder might be a nice thing to do. As much as he criticizes Henry for overreaching, he sure has no problem studying his “failure” and profiting from that. As Sir Christopher Frayling mentions in his marvelous commentary track, Waldman is the opposite of Dracula’s Van Helsing, hardly heroic and a regressive figure. Even harmless characters like Elizabeth or her deadly dull suitor Victor don’t capture our attention: they’re nice but they have no ambition, no desire to look beyond as Henry does.

It’s Frankenstein, the Monster, and Fritz who remain the most memorable, the people who aren’t seen as normal; however, the outsiders have no solidarity in this world. The misshapen Fritz sees the Monster not as another ostracized person, but as a thing to dominate and torment, as though he’s elated to find someone who’s more of an outsider than himself. Though disappointed by his own father’s lack of emotional support, Frankenstein doesn’t learn from his father’s mistakes and quickly gives up on his creation the moment things go wrong. And of course, we all know how the Monster lashes out once he accidentally kills the one person who treated him well. It’s a world of lost, lonely people, and that’s one of the saddest elements of this movie.

Though the Monster is a sympathetic figure, his motivation in the second half of the film becomes muddled. The question of whether or not the Monster was doomed to violence from the start is never resolved and it is easy to assume that his mistreatment at the hands of his creator is the sole cause for his strange behavior. The moment when the Monster breaks into Elizabeth’s room has always struck me as strange, because it isn’t entirely clear what his intentions are. In earlier screenplay drafts, the Monster was a demonic id-figure that clearly had sexual designs on his creator’s bride, even going as far as to tear her clothes and attempt to climb atop her according to historian Rudy Behlmer (even for the pre-code era, that would have been strong material, had they gotten away with it!), but the Monster is certainly not that, well, monstrous in the final version. He does growl in a rather flirtatious manner at the terrified woman, but he ultimately leaves her alone once she swoons. (Maybe he was just curious. Maybe he wanted to see if a grown woman might float better than a little girl.) It’s the same with his kidnapping of Henry. When he knocks his creator unconscious during the last pursuit, the Monster does not immediately kill Frankenstein, but instead carries him to an old windmill to—do what? It’s never made clear whether he plans on killing him or not. These ambiguities were likely a big part of the Monster’s fear factor for 1930s audiences who didn’t have the same fond nostalgia most classic horror movie fans now have for the character.

Some viewers regard these moments as plot glitches, and maybe they are, but one cannot deny that these bizarre scenes lend the film a dreamlike tone. If the gothic expressionism of the set design does not signal that this is a different, more heightened reality than our own, the story events certainly do. I’ve always felt the 1931 Frankenstein was like a nightmare committed to celluloid because of how bizarre certain story elements are in addition to the gothic mise en scene. It possesses an otherworldly feel, an almost fairy tale like conceit that became more pronounced in the sequel.

Over the years, this film is usually deemed a historically significant yet artistically inferior film when compared to its sequel, The Bride of Frankenstein. The follow-up does have the benefit of more sophisticated cinematography and some truly striking editing, as well as memorable characters like Dr. Pretorious and the Bride herself. However, when it comes to horror, the first movie retains a chilling power and sense of tragedy that the sequel does not accomplish as well, at least not for me. I believe the more primitive nature of the first movie is a strength; the crackling hiss of the soundtrack and the lack of music lends the movie a sort of creepiness, as does the silent Monster’s far more alien nature. Since 1931, filmmakers have created Frankensteins truer to the novel or more viscerally horrific; some of them are quite good or even great, but none have haunted cultural memory like James Whale’s and I think the reason for that goes beyond mere nostalgia.

Three Small Words

Note: This is a one-shot John/Dave and Dirk/Jake happy fluffy feels fic that has nothing to do with Hopeless and Heartless.  Enjoy!

Three Small Words

When you were little, your kindergarten teacher gave you a homework assignment.  Write three sentences, three things that you love.  Your sentences only needed to be three words long.

Spelling didn’t matter.  Periods were optional.    You wrote the entire thing in blue crayon.




You still remember the look on your dad’s face when you proudly showed him that you could write.  When he first looked at you, there was something in his eyes you didn’t recognize.  You were confused and a little worried that you did a bad job writing.  But your unease melted away when he swept you up into his arms.  With a big smile on his face, he told you, “I’m so proud of you, son.”

When you were little, you told Dave you loved him all the time.  Dave told you he loved you too.  Dave was your best friend. Of course you loved him.

And when you were little, nobody seemed to care.  Your teacher just smiled at you.  The other kids were too busy eating paste to think about you two.

Dave’s older brother heard you tell Dave you loved him once.  He used a word you never heard before when he said, “too fuckin’ cute.”

After you asked your dad what a “fuckin’” was later, you weren’t allowed to play over at Dave’s house for a while.  But Dave still came over to yours every day after school.

Grade school flew by.  You and Dave were inseparable.  You did everything together.  By some stroke of luck, you were in the same class with each other every year.

And though some things never changed, one thing did.

Somewhere along the line, you stopped telling Dave you loved him.  Dave stopped too. 

Keep reading

Just wrote someone a very long email about how The Oscars (and Hollywood in general) work, and I thought I'd put it here
Spoiler alert: making the best picture of the year has nothing to do with whether or not you win an Oscar. What I keep hearing again and again is “Hollywood is all about who you know.”  Which is why breaking in is such a daunting task.  A lot of the TV writers that I’ve read advice from keep saying that the best way to get a job in a TV writer’s room is to know someone who knows the executive producer, or to just go and introduce yourself if you happen to run into them at Starbucks or something.  Which is why I’m hoping that it won’t be too forward and desperate seeming of me if I try begging the executive producers of The Knick to read my spec over Twitter. Anyway.  Getting into “The Academy” is the same way.  If you just look at their webpage, it’s pretty self-explanatory: you get into The Academy because you know someone who is already in The Academy  and they sponsor you for membership, and the members then vote for who gets the awards.  It’s a democracy, but it’s an insider, good-old-boys club where there are serious career incentives to vote for, oh, say Ben Affleck’s big budget Iranian revolution film instead of a superior-in-all-ways indie film created by a first-time director with zero industry clout.  Not to mention that there are huge campaigns that go on behind the scenes, with “for your consideration” ads being run in Variety and The Hollywood Reporter (they’re so annoying this time of year, whenever I go looking at stories about where I might go looking for a job, I’m hit with Benedict Cumberbatch’s face), members are also sent free DVDs and fancy gifts from movie companies looking to curry some favor.  And then there’s the “they’re just a bunch of old White men” factor.  The LA Times broke its membership down:   

     Even if they’re voting objectively, without the nepotism and bribes, this kind of membership is naturally going to favor other White, male made films about White men.  Which explains why Birdman, despite being ridiculously pretentious and just kinda depressing, is likely to win best original screenplay while Cake, an indie movie with a nearly entirely female cast with an absolutely fantastic, clever, beautiful, and touching screenplay, isn’t even likely to be nominated.  It also means that it’s likely to give out Oscars to screenplays and movies that are kind of sexist, racist or homophobic.  Like I was saying earlier, I thought that Quentin Tarantino’s serious over-use of the n-word ruined an otherwise clever screenplay, making it sound like it was written by a ten-year-old who’s just realized he can use swear words when his mother isn’t looking, and I’ve got a lot of Black friends who tell me that it wasn’t even that great a screenplay to begin with.  And like how last year Spike Jonez won best original screenplay for Her, even though the movie was seriously too long, slow, boring, and its gender politics were kinda icky.  Beyond just the whole movie, there are also the kinds of roles available.  Recently, there have been more actors of color winning Oscars than ever, but if you look at the kinds of roles that are being offered, it’s not that great.  Seven Black actresses have won a best acting Oscar, and of those even roles, two have been slaves, one a maid, one an evil welfare queen, and one a woman having an affair with a racist.  Not exactly the most progressive kind of roles, but they’re the kind of roles that White people are used to seeing Black people in, and they’re the kind of roles that White people are going to vote for.  Quite often, when Hollywood actually does write a decent role about a person of Color, it goes to a White actor.  Characters of color in books magically become White on screen.  The lead role of Ghost in the Shell just went to Scarlett Johansen.  Back in classic Hollywood, Anna May Wong, an immensely talented Chinese-American actress, finally had the lead role that was going to give her an Oscar in The Good Earth, but the role went to Louise Rainer, who won the Oscar.     So, Oscar tropes.  There are a few tried-and-true tropes that seem to always work.  The most popular, and the most effective, is to play an iconic famous person.  This year, see Eddie Redmayne as Stephen Hawking.  Biopics are always big winners, and I’ll admit, a lot of the time, they create outstanding performances.  The King’s Speech is another good example of it.  It was a good movie, but I don’t think it was an especially *great* movie.  Another kind of infamous trope is “to go gay.”  Hollywood has a really weird relationship with queer people.  Anywhere there’s a lot of creativity and self-expression, there’s going to be a lot of gay folks coming to be there, so yeah, there are a lot of gay people in Hollywood.  But that doesn’t necessarily mean you get a lot of positive queer representation out of film and TV.  Recently, I talked to several transgender women about how they want to see trans people represented on TV (one of my characters in my TV pilot is a trans girl), and they all told me they were so very tired of the sad, pathetic queer person who does nothing but suffer and then dies.  The Imitation GameDallas Buyers ClubBoys Don’t CryPhiladelphia, they all fall into this trap, and they’re all big Oscar winners (or nominees at least).  Which is why I was freaking out so much to see the TV show Transparent win best comedy series and best comedy actor.  Transparent has a trans character who has a hard time and who struggles with coming out and transitioning late in life, but she ultimately stands on her own and most importantly, doesn’t fucking die.  And then there’s the whole issue of straight actors winning tons and tons of awards for playing gay roles while gay actors are terrified of coming out of the closet and ruining their career (it’s pretty much an open secret that Kevin Spacey is gay, but you haven’t heard a word of that from him, have you?).  Which is again why Matt Bomer, who is openly gay, winning a Golden Globe for a gay role, was also a really big deal.   and then there’s the role of women on the production half of Hollywood.  It’s still an overwhelming boys club.  Normally, I wouldn’t write (or even watch) campy melodrama for broadcast TV prime time, but I absolutely would change my style if I could get a chance to work with Shonda Rhimes.  She has three hit shows on air right now, is a titan of the industry, and is big on supporting other women in the industry.  That’s the kind of career support I might not get anywhere else.  But, as TV platforms continue to broaden, hopefully there will be more room for female screenwriters and female showrunners.  Orange is the New Black and Transparent, on Netflix and Amazon, respectively, both have female showrunners, have a solid core of female characters, and likely wouldn’t have gotten made if it weren’t for Netflix and Amazon being desperate for quality original programming.  The sudden boom of Netflix and other streaming services is a huge fucking deal for the entertainment industry because without the limitations on how programming is delivered, you no longer have to pander to the lowest common denominator and make TV and movies guaranteed to appeal to the widest possible audience.   There is a real breakdown of economics here: there are only so many network TV channels and so many time slots during the day.  Just the same, there are only so many movie theaters out there with only so many seats.  They aren’t going to waste precious space on something that’s got a somewhat narrow audience.  With Netflix and other streaming services, suddenly, that limit is completely removed, and suddenly people are *shocked* to realize that women want to watch stories about women, people of color want to watch other people of colors, and queers want to watch other queers.  And if it’s an especially good story, people from other groups might just join in.  Orange is the New Black may not have as massive an audience as How I Met Your Mother, but it’s a good enough show that people really do care about it and are passionate about seeing it do well, and want to see more TV shows like it.  So TV is really having a huuuuge moment where showrunners are king, original content is everything, and new voices are finally being heard.  Movies might just eventually catch up.  The Interview did absurdly well being streamed, much better than it would have just being in theaters.  I’m really wondering why the hell more movie companies aren’t going for the release to Netflix distribution method because movie theaters are a pain in the ass, and when I want to see a movie, I want to see it *now.* (cough, I um didn’t exactly pay to watch most of this season’s movies when I probably should have paid.  Seriously if movie companies want to compete with online piracy, they need to start making movies more available.  I’d have paid if they were on Netflix).  So if movies ever gain the democratizing effect that streaming has had on TV, you should be seeing much more diverse awards in the future, but it’s going to be slow going.   So yes there’s a long lesson on diversity in Hollywood and just what a clusterfuck of nepotism Hollywood really is.  I can’t wait to work there.
Meet Cute - Act 1:  a sebastian stan fic

A multi-chaptered, ongoing project based on this post:

*imagines an entire novel involving sebastian stan that includes kisses, holding hands, cute dates, hot sex, marriage, babies, etc etc etc*

4,371 words - Chpt 1/?

Sebastian Stan/OFC

Rated M for language, romance (Rated M for later chapters)

Originally posted by ronesweasley


Hours easily slipped by with the company of two tall cups of coffee, half a forgotten bagel and the tireless tunes of The Four Seasons flowing through his headphones. Workout pushed off until later in the day, or maybe not at all, Sebastian sat clicking away at an undersized black keyboard. The cramped position of his fingers did nothing to alleviate the stress he thought he’d abandoned with pencils and paper. Nope, this was definitely not any better. He flicked one wrist then both, snapping the tight joints before diving back into the onscreen document.

Keep reading

Spoon vol 57 Yokotani x Hatta interview


-Eternal Summer-

As a sequel to last summer, This summer we were also able to see a lot of hot drama in “Free!” -Eternal Summer-”. Just the other day we were able to see the final episode of this work, the big conclusion where haruka and the rest started taking their first steps toward the future but, I’m sure there were a lot of voices crying that that they “don’t want it to end”. But, we shouldn’t forget that, their story will continue forever. That was the main feeling that the conclusion of this story of one of their irreplaceable summers gave us in the end. So we don’t forget the path they have taken, so we don’t forget the “best sight”, I think we should definitely watch it carefully and enjoyably all the way to the end.

Keep reading

Outlander 02x11 Vengeance is Mine

…Or as I prefer to think of it The One with all the Agency and Control. I didn’t think it was as bad as many other people seem to find the episode. It had pretty much everything in the episode that I was expecting it to have as far as the plot movements and tying up loose ends from older plots (and a very convoluted and tangential part of the book). I think because I didn’t have much in the way of expectations––and I had quite a few fears about how graphic the violence would end up being––I was actually pleasantly surprised by most of the episode. It was also DG’s first time writing in a screenplay/television format. Was it perfect? No. Was it one of my favorite episodes? No. But it also wasn’t on my list of least favorites for the season either (with #1 on that list going to The Fox’s Lair, which I still haven’t been able to make myself watch a second time, and #2 being Not in Scotland Anymore). For me this episode is along the same lines as By the Pricking of my Thumbs; there’s a bit of plot that just has to be gotten through––in the first case, to set up events that are coming and in this latter case, to tie up events that were left hanging. 

So I think the best way for me to tackle this particular episode analysis is to look at things through the thematic lens that I found most intriguing and prevalent but in subtle and understated ways: Agency and Control. (There will be some spoilers for the rest of Dragonfly in Amber as we’re closing in on the end of the season; spoilers/speculation for Voyager and Season 3 will be at the end of the post)

It feels like the episode starts out with an odd beat that’s very much an inversion of how Prestonpans opened: the Bonnie Prince is once again discussing strategy with his advisors. Except this time, his General and his Quartermaster are in agreement and it’s Jamie who’s on his side when it comes to the question of attempting to take London. At first, I very much cocked an eyebrow at the scene. As the others point out to Jamie, normally he would see their side of things and agree with them––and his arguments in favor of going after London aren’t very strong. It doesn’t feel much like Jamie… until we get to see him on his way outside and discussing things with Claire. He wasn’t actually in favor of going after London for any practical reasons––he was trying to see if there was a way to change the course of history, to have the Jacobite army go after London like that would have deviated from the sequence of events as Claire knows them from her past. He was testing the extent of his/their agency in terms of the war as it is unfolding––can they affect the outcome or are they at its mercy? Picking up from the end of Prestonpans and Claire’s observation that each beat that falls in line with her memory suggests more and more strongly that there is nothing they can do to change the future, Jamie especially is getting more and more nervous. This fear ties into Jamie’s determination to see Claire safe throughout the episode; he isn’t clingy in the way that the word is usually used (i.e. negatively and as a hinderance to the other partner) but rather he clings to the time they have left together, to the idea that he can and will protect her, that everything else might be out of his power to stop but he won’t let that approaching doom destroy her. We see this in his Gaelic prayer as she sleeps when he implores the Lord to help see her and the child he believes she will someday bear (though I don’t think she’s already pregnant for timeline reasons, but who knows because the timeline is a bigger lost cause than Culloden at this point) not safely through the violence yet to come but away from it altogether. (Also, it’s basically the first instance we have of, “Lord that she might be safe. She and the child.”)

The orders from the commanders and the removal of the Charles from his influence is a very overt removal of Jamie’s agency. Dougal comes charging in explaining that he and Jamie have been essentially banished because the General and Quartermaster don’t want him exercising his control/influence. Jamie is upset, of course, but it has more to do with the ways it affects his desire to protect Claire. With regards to the promise/vow/prayer, his agency is more directly tried as it clashes with Claire’s agency over herself––coming to a head in the church with Claire’s decision to deceive the British into giving the rest of them up to “save” her. And what pushes Jamie into compliance is ultimately the way she asserts herself as Lady Broch Tuarach and claims that protecting the men is as much her responsibility as his. 

Keep reading

Hey, taylorswift

I have a proposition for you, and I know there’s probably a 0.1% chance you’ll ever see this and an even smaller chance that you’ll respond, but if you could just read this and hear me out, I’d be eternally grateful! My name is Olivia (yes, like your cat) and I’m a sixteen-year-old from England. I’ve been a fan of you and your music for just over two years now, which I know sounds like nothing at all, but I’m immensely dedicated to you. Sure, I’ve only seen you live once at the London RED Tour and I might not have the biggest collection of merchandise or the most copies of your album, but I love you more than words can ever say and this is a message from one small-town girl with a dream to another small-town girl who had a dream and chased it down until she became one of the biggest music artists in the world. 

I’m seriously passionate about everything creative - ever since I could hold a pen, I’ve been writing whenever and wherever I could, not songs, really, more stories and things like that. And recently, I’ve become really interested in script-writing and screenplays, so much so that I’d really like to take that one step further. I’d been looking forward to 1989 for two whole years, so when it finally came out last month, I was over the moon and I was instantly drawn to the track called ‘How You Get The Girl’. It’s one of the sweetest, most fun-loving songs I’ve ever heard, Taylor! Every song on the album is a lyrical masterpiece, but this one really resonates with me because it’s just such a beautiful love story. I really read into that and hey, I’m not even sure if you’re planning to release this song as a single, but if you are, I have a request. If you’d hear me out and get in touch, I’d really like to tell you about an idea I have for a music video to this song.

I’ve really thought about the idea meticulously and have many shots planned; I’ve storyboarded the entire music video and I’m not just saying this as a way to meet you or whatever, though that would be incredibly wonderful in itself. I’m doing this because it’s my dream, and you’ve taught me to dream impossible dreams in the past. You’re like this untouchable fairy godmother who can make dreams come true and even though it’s highly impossible this could actually happen, if you could just read over this and understand how much it means to me, that’d be enough for me. I’ve been there for support you through your dreams and I really hope I’ve done you proud, even if I am just one face in a sea of others. It’d mean so much to me if you could maybe help me live out my dreams too. 

I don’t want to give too much away about the video idea here, because on the off-chance that it is a possibility, I don’t want to spoil it for anybody, but I am willing to give you my contact details if you want them so I can get in touch with either you personally or your management to discuss the idea. I’m not doing this for money or popularity or fame. I’m doing it because it’s my dream and for me, my dreams bring me more happiness than any pay-packet ever could, I love you, Taylor, and if you see this, please like or something so I know you’ve seen it. You can contact me directly at my ASK BOX (click the capitalized words, wink wink!) or on my twitter, @dougbooths

I love you so much, Taylor. You’ve taught me to dream impossible dreams.