you don't have to LOOK like you could be on the cover of a romance novel

The Handmaid’s Tale: marketing, then and now

Comparing the Hulu adaptation of The Handmaid’s Tale to the 1990 version is… weird, because the old one seems to have been made with a “haha, this could never happen; let’s play it like a fun adventure thriller and sell it as sexy as possible!” kind of attitude. I mean, the trailer has this bouncy narration that starts with “once upon a time…” and turns the dystopian element into more of a soap opera.

And just take a look at the promotional art:

(…I don’t think that was the message of the book, guys. Sure, Offred was longing for human touch, or pretty much any kind of human connection, but I think that the book was more about women being reduced to wombs with legs, not state-owned prostitutes… It was about the desperation of needing to give birth or face punishment. Everything about this dystopia was hyper-de-sexualized.)

Oh, and my favorite:

“A psychosexual movie shocker.” With what looks like half the cover of a cheesy romance novel, minus some buff shirtless guy.

(I also think it’s kind of funny that they say “once upon a time in the near future” sex became used for control and domination, as if rape and prostitution haven’t existed for centuries… but okay…)

I’ll admit I haven’t seen this version (or the Hulu one, for that matter), but I do appreciate that they cast a properly old and creepy man in the part of the Commander, and a properly aged woman for his Wife. The Hulu casting is a little youthful, if you ask me; the book characters felt very weathered, and I think it mentioned that they were supposed to be quite a bit older than Offred. Her “affair” with the Commander is supposed to feel very weird and unsettling, partially because he’s this old man who wants someone to play Scrabble with and dress up in sequins.

Anyway, then we had what I call the “holy shit these dystopias are too real” phase, culminating with the new Hulu adaptation of this particular dystopia, which is waaaay too relevant to today’s issues.

See? This is how you depict the feeling of objectification. Not with a topless woman bathed in flattering lighting – by objectifying a woman yourself, you’re not sending a message so much as continuing the trend. Especially when you sell your film as some kind of sexy romance. “Branded, sold, controlled: she belongs to The State” doesn’t quite cut it; this very simple, very clear message does. Offred is no longer human, she doesn’t have a face; she is just an object. Objectified.

(This also has some fantastic layering because it recalls the messages that you might find scrawled across the bathroom mirror meant to demean other girls; part of Gilead’s system involves pitting women against each other: Wives against Handmaids, Handmaids against Aunts, even Handmaids against each other out of jealousy and in the Red Center with their slut-shaming. To stay in power, the men at the top make sure that the women below them are too occupied with resenting each other that they forget to look up at who the real enemy is.)

*holy FUCK*

Now THAT is how you market a dystopia. This story is not some scandalous fantasy set in the near-but-distant future; it’s a warning, of what might be lurking just around the corner. The Handmaid’s Tale is an incredibly frightening book to read today, because of the things that are being allowed to happen in our society. It shows what happens when we let sexism flourish, when ecological and political crises make us paranoid enough about national security that we let the people in power take away our rights. It is a fucking nightmare.

loveisalaserquest17  asked:

It feels a bit silly to come to your inbox since we're actually chatting but you're good and you're indulging me in this, so. I'd like to have a comparison between songs harry wrote, like a timeline of his writing characteristics, something that shows how he's grown in term of songwriting, and maybe a little flash forward to his solo album? I know you've already made posts about SG, IICW and WITW, but maybe you could sum them all up and starting from the origins? And including Don't let me go?

Thank you for this ask, Julie!

I looked through the list of songs available to the public for which Harry shares writing credit. 

2011: Taken, Everything About You, Same Mistakes

2012: They Don’t Know About Us, Summer Love, Still the One Irresistible, Don’t Let Me Go

2013: Story of My Life, Happily, Right Now, Something Great

2014: Just a Little Bit of Your Heart (for Ariana Grande), I Love You (for Alex and Sierra), Not Our Fault (for Gavin Degraw)

2014: Where Do Broken Hearts Go, Fool’s Gold, Night Changes, Stockholm Syndrome, Change Your Ticket

2015: Perfect, If I Could Fly, Olivia, Walking in the Wind, AM

2016: Someday (for Michael Buble)

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Bulletproof (ch. 1)

OK SO REMEMBER WHEN I GOT PROMPTS AND THEN D IDNT DO THEM? this is why. this absolute frankensteins monster. I just. I had this human!au in my head, and… now it’s a thing. A very long thing. With a plot… help.
@velocifoxy @idk-and-idc-and-idr

Descrip:
Slow burn (not super slow to start w/ but it gets slower. Like. Really slow.) suuuper hurt comfort, probably gonna get nsfw in the future because. I hate writing easy things apparently. (There’s a one night stand implied that m i g h t not be the best decision the characters ever made. This does get addressed in another chapter, but not this one) really a lot of awful angsty metaphors that go on like 3 sentences too long I’m sORRY

Pairings:
Logince (eventually lamp but… yknow. slow burn.)


TRIGGERS:
Alcohol mention, emotional abuse, rebound, bad break up, poison/gun mention, v brief murder mention, gets a tiny bit nsfw at the end (they don’t even kiss, guys, Roman is just a big flirt who maybe makes bad decisions sometimes)


Prompt:
From @killerfangirl3
“I’m bulletproof, just don’t shoot me”

They say if you take little bits of poison everyday for years, you could one day be immune, if those little bits didn’t kill you first. Unfortunately, the same isn’t true for love.

Roman staggered out of the party early, words ringing in his ears. “Convenient.” That’s all he had been. “Convenient.” A step up to bigger things. He was famous, but not famous enough. Rich, but they had wanted richer. Soft, when they wanted useful. The casual voice over champagne clinking. “You didn’t think it meant anything, did you? People like you. Now, they like me! It was convenient to-”
Roman winced at the memory. He had to move. It was near midnight, and pouring rain, gold from the streetlights playing on every drop as they fell. His jacket and umbrella were inside, but his wallet and phone (dead, probably) still sat in his pocket, so he cut his losses, stepping out from under the porch of the grand, old house, still glowing with lights and people and noise.
He though little bits of love would be okay. But it never worked like that. He couldn’t just do a little. It was less like saying to take small doses of poison everyday, than it was getting shot everyday. The only way to be really bulletproof was to never hand someone the gun …He didn’t know where he was going. His dress shoes didn’t have the same satisfying click on soaked pavement as they did on marble or hardwood. His hair was flat, and clinging to his skull. He didn’t feel anything. So he kept walking.

He wasn’t sure how long it took, but when sensation returned, it came in the form of being cold. Then his feet hurt.
Looking around, the only light on was shining from a dusty looking store front. He doubted anyone would be open at that hour, but the crash of heavy rain was weighing on his senses, and his last stitch of self preservation pushed him to the door. It swung open with a halfhearted jingle from a rusted bell.
At first, he couldn’t see anyone. Every wall seemed to be covered in books, as well as much of the floor. He could hardly see the ceiling, but the shelves went past where he thought a regular ceiling ought to be and then some. Stacks of ancient creaking leather bound tomes, dog eared paperbacks, and bent, stained hardcovers nearly covered every inch. It looked less like a store and more like a… hoard.
Roman stood dripping on the doormat in utter awe, until something moved in the back of the shop. Sure enough, a face was poking out from around a bookshelf. The man had large black glasses pushed up onto his forehead, making his hair spike in every direction. He had red marks on the bridge of his nose from wearing them too long, and was blinking at Roman like he’d just woken up.
“Oh, uh give me a moment.”
He extracted himself clumsily from what must have been a desk at some point and unfolded from a leather chair he’d been sitting in, adjusting his tie and putting his glasses back on their perch.
“Alright. My name is Logan, what are you looking for tonight?”
He was still rubbing sleep out of his eyes, his clothes crumpled. Roman was so shellshocked by the sight he nearly forgot to answer. He felt his cheeks grow red from more that just the cold. “I- uh- I’m not looking for anything in particular, I’m just… Browsing.”
He willed the man to leave it at that, he could pretend to look at books, warm up, call a taxi and go cry into his pillow without being recognized by a cute clerk at a weird bookshop. Logan squinted at him from behind the glasses, taking a step forward. Roman flinched instinctively back, shoulders bumping the glass door. /this is it, he’s going to recognize me, tell a some news site and get a picture as I run off or something. ‘Local star now local washed up wreck…’/
“Are you sure? We usually only get people looking for something specific… we only really have older, out of print books that people value as collectors… Sir? Are you alright?”
The clerks voice had nothing but honest curiosity turned concern as he walked closer. Roman realized his eyes where still closed tight, waiting for when he’d have to run. He opened them to find Logan much closer too him, inspecting him with a worried face.

/he’s cuter up close… wait no don’t do that bad idea/

“uh. Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”
“No, no you’re not. Your teeth are chattering. Follow me. Try not to get any books wet. If you have to, drip on the romance novels on the left. They never sell anyways.”
The clerk turned on his heel and walked further into the shop.
“You could also go back into the rain, if you want, but I would recommend accepting help. You look freezing and probably lost, and nothing else around runs this late.”
Roman shrugged. ‘Local star murdered by weird book seller’ sounded better than 'local star found frozen solid on side walk’ anyways. He followed Logan back into the shop. Two large bookshelves split the space in two, creating a doorway between them into the rest of the room. A rickety wooden staircase disappeared into shadows at the very back.
To Romans right was what could almost be called a parlor, a large, deep leather sofa sat facing several cushy armchairs covered in fading fabric, separated by a low coffee table. On his left was a workshop of some sort, incredibly tidy in contrast to the rest of the store, a bright desk lamp shone on a thick, dusty book, which lay naked with its leather cover to one side. A number of tools stood like a row of soldiers to one side.
Roman let himself be ushered onto the sofa, which reminded him exactly how sore his feet were. He let out a sigh. It might have been a terrible idea to crash at a random collectors book store because the sofa was comfy and the clerk was cute, but after a night like his it was danm tempting. Logan was mostly quiet as he moved about the space, up and down the stairs to fetch things, leaving Roman to his thoughts. He stared into space, trying not to think them, until something warm wrapped around his shoulders.
He looked up to see Logan pulling a wool blanket around him, tutting under his breath. “It’s never a good idea to soak yourself to the bone like this. It’s going to take a while to warm you up.” Roman nodded dully, remembering how much of a mess he must look. /that’s probably why he doesn’t recognize you. The longer you stay the more you’re risking…/ he ignored himself, watching Logan move around the space. His shirt, already rumpled, was pushed up past his elbows, showing his arms. His hands and his slacks were covered in ink stains that Roman hadn’t noticed at first.
The wool blanket smelled like peppermint. Maybe that’s what Logan smelled like.

He was too tired for attractive strangers, he decided. He was heart broken, metaphorically and literally lost, who cared if he wondered if attractive nerds smelled like peppermint or not. He settled further into the couch, wrapping himself in the blanket like a cloak.
/you’re so screwed./ his brain whispered. /so very very screwed./
The stairs creaked, and Logan came reappeared carefully balancing two steaming mugs. He set one down in front of Roman, then lowered himself into the chair and blew on his mug. When Roman didn’t reach for his immediately, he held eye contact and raised an eyebrow pointedly. Roman sighed and sat up, peering into it suspiciously. “It’s hot chocolate. It’s not going to bite you.” “I know what it is! I was just-” the eyebrow again. “Fine, fine. I’m drinking it. Happy?” Logan hummed and Roman tried not to burn his tongue. It wasn’t good hot chocolate by any means, but it was hot. And vaguely chocolate. So it helped, at least a little. They sat for a while, until both cups sat below half, and Roman had a pleasant glow in his stomach.
Logan set his mug down with a decisive clack.
“So. Talk.”
Roman immediately stiffened, and Logan backed up, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t have to tell me everything, or anything at all, really, but you clearly had a difficult night. I’m not sure what else you need right now, and some context would be appreciated. Besides.” Logan leaned back in the chair, eyeing him. “I don’t usually get that many mysterious customers on the nightshift, surprisingly. I’m curious.” Roman felt his cheeks heat up again, and scolded himself for being so happy for the attention. Most people assumed they knew everything about him. It was nice to feel… interesting, in a normal way.
/whatever./ his brain muttered bitterly.
/he’s probably just curious about the weird, wet idiot on his doorstep. You look horrible, anyways. Any chance at 'charming stranger’ was ruined ages ago./
he sighed, and cleared his throat.
“I… bailed on a party.” That was true, technically.
“I…”
/say anything/ his brain urged.
/you don’t need to tell him how pathetic your night was. You didn’t ask for his help/
“I had a pretty bad break up.”
/really?/ his mind was screaming.
But Logan just winced sympathetically.
“That must have been difficult… do you… would you like to talk about it?”
Every instinct in his head told him not to. But he felt… warm. Safe.
“I… was seeing some one who… was after something specific. After …they got that, I was unnecessary.” His voice sounded small and broken in his own ears, despite him trying to keep it steady. When he found the courage to look up, there was no pity or disgust in the other mans eyes.
“That sucks.”
It was the most casual he’d been all night. Roman couldn’t help laughing.

The terror of telling things like that to strangers returned somewhat after that, and the conversation moved on to lighter things. Mostly about Logan. He found out Logan slept upstairs, for convenience sake, and that he worked part time as a substitute English teacher, when he wasn’t restoring books. Logan tapped his fingers on his chair like he was playing a piano when he was thinking. Logan snorted when he laughed, if you could get him to do it. Logan didn’t think he was very good with people.
Romans eyes were raw from crying, but he felt like the full effect of the night hadn’t even started to hit him. It was terrifying. Almost everything was. Tomorrow morning felt like some kind of deadline. Some kind of cliff.

Fortunately, it wasn’t tomorrow morning yet. Logan coughed politely, bringing him out of his thoughts.
“As nice as this is,” ('he thinks it’s nice!’ Part of him said. 'Shut. up.’ said a larger part) “my shift is about to end.”
Romans heart sank.
“Do you have a place to stay tonight?”
Logans voice was soft, almost… nervous.
Romans heart was on a danm rollercoaster.
“I… technically, yes.”
There was the eyebrow again. “Technically?” Bile rose in Romans throat. “I would… rather not go back in this state, but I do have somewhere to go. If you lend me your phone I could call a cab-”
“No! -I mean.”
Logan cleared his throat, less gracefully this time. “That’s not necessary. You can stay here. If you want, that is.”
This was familiar ground. Roman could feel his feet under him as Logan got more and more flustered. “And who’s bed would I be sleeping in, exactly?” Roman knew he was grinning at this point.
“Uh- t-there’s a spare couch upstairs, I suppose you could have my bed if you-”
“Not quite what I meant, gorgeous.”
Roman pulled himself up off the couch, and stalked over to the armchair Logan was sitting in. He was close enough to see the other man swallow nervously. Getting no signal to back off, he planted both hands on the arms of the chair, caging Logan in, and waited for him to make a move.
Throw him out, or…
One of Logans hands grabbed the back of his neck. “I suppose” he muttered, pulling Roman towards him “I wouldn’t mind sharing.”

anonymous asked:

Can I request a Dean scenario? Like the morning after a one Night stand with him and you have a small crush on him. But he don't know what his feelings are towards you. With a bit fluff please ;-;(why does it sound like I'm ordering ice cream?)

DEAN: Fluff Scenario


The Morning After


           If you had told yourself a year ago that you’d be waking up naked in Kwon Hyuk’s bed, you would have asked your friend to smack some sense into you. Kwon Hyuk was every dream girls’ guy. He had ungodly handsome features along with the most gentlemanly personality. He put the sweet in sweetheart and the throb in heartthrob. But Kwon Hyuk was also inaccessible. In the past year that you had the honor of knowing him, you had yet to even hear a whisper of him having a girlfriend. Some even thought he could be gay.

           But as you wrestled around in your sleep, slowly waking up while the memories of last night came flooding back to you, you remembered that Kwon Hyuk was far from gay. He knew his way around a woman’s body and god! You were blushing in your sleep by just thinking about it. Before you awoke fully, you relished the feeling of him against you one last time, knowing that those sensations would likely never occur again.

           A soft humming finally pulled you from your slumber. Peeking your eyes open one by one, you subtly lifted your head to check your surroundings. He was the first thing you saw. With his back to you, his bare back for that matter, you watched in adoration as he hummed to himself, a mug of coffee in his hand while he stood by his window, watching the sun rise. Could he be any more majestic? Seriously, he was like something out of a romance novel.

           As if he felt you stir and wake, Kwon Hyuk glanced over his shoulder at you. Every worst case scenario popped into your head at that moment. Now he knows you’re awake, what if he throws you out? What if he glares at you in disgust? What if he lets you down easily by saying what happened last night was mistake? Okay, so that last scenario would be preferred but was it so wrong to hope that he’d ask you to stay?

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books

summary: she never could lie to him after all.  —shallura
also read on: ao3
for @shiroallura​, with great thanks for making us the wondrous “12 days of shallura” edit and for supporting us in our shallurian endeavors!

part of “the princess and the paladin” series. link to master list here.


“Tell me about Altea,” he asks her.

He says this, his voice so gentle and barely a whisper, with his eyes so genuine and focused on her that she has no choice but to promise him she would tell him everything she remembered and then some.

And so she takes him to the library — where she spends all of her free time just sitting and reading quietly to herself, reminding herself of all the stories and the great legends and the histories of her planet.

The library is a relic from her father’s time. It took her longer than it should have for her to realize at the end of the day it was good that her father prioritized education above all, because otherwise all of these books and writings and scriptures from Altea would be gone and there would be nothing else left from Altea but her fading memory.

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anonymous asked:

Hi! I don't know if you do au's, but if you do, can you do a mafia au where hoshi(you can decide what role he has in the group) bumps into you while running away from a bad situation & you let him hide out in your house & patch him up even though he warns you that he's dangerous. And you take care of him anyway & you two get along and he keeps hanging out with you & falls for you, eventually confessing. (sorry that was so long i just love hosh)

sorry for the long wait anon  (´;ω;`) but here ya go! 

Scenario: mafia au!
Group/Member: Seventeen / Hoshi
Word Count: 2,000+ (this is so long omg I got carried away)
Rating: G (mentions of blood!!)

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obviouslystiles  asked:

(1/?) Hey there! So after the finale, I was wondering what your thoughts were on Peter and what the hell actually happened. You have followed Peter pretty closely, so I'm curious to your thoughts. His speech to Scott and the fight (if you can call it that because Peter literally did nothing to fight back), made no sense. I don't feel like Peter was really after Scott's Alpha spark. He even claimed that a True Alpha spark couldn't be stolen by killing the Alpha, right? Was that a lie? If not -

(2/?) what was he doing then? He wouldn’t put in the effort to kill Scott unless he got something out of it. Also, his speech was almost like he wanted to push Scott to step up and BE an Alpha. Teach him a lesson about being a leader. But why, Peter? Athena’s theory was that Peter just wanted to kill Kate, and Scott was merely an instrument to do that. Maybe? But why have Kate turn Scott into a Berserker if he knew she controlled them? Did he know? I feel like I’m missing something, idk what

(3/3) Idk, Peter showed a LOT of emotion this episode and my feels for him were seriously amped up! Like @_@ I’m glad he didn’t die, and I’m entirely amused that he is shacked up with Valack and the trashy romance novels - even though this can only end badly. I’m just really confused about what the hell his plan was. I get that Peter is still reliable fail!wolf, but what was his plan B? Why give up the fight? Also, do you think he recognized Valack at the end or no? I can’t decide. Thanks!

——

Okay! I at least may have this one.

I’m at least gonna pretend to myself I understand things for a few hours until I probably realize I don’t. Again.

.

Theory: Peter is trying to become kanima master of an Alpha kanima, Malia

.

Peter never wanted to kill Scott, but his prime directive, his Plan A, was to make Scott dead…and give Scott’s power to Malia.

Scott: You taught Kate. You helped her. All for power.
Peter:For my family’s power. 

Peter:A werewolf can’t steal a true Alpha’s power. But maybe a Nagual jaguar, with the power of Tezcatlipoca behind her…Maybe she can.

I think Malia qualifies under this description.

Her credit shot is of her in La Iglesia:

We also see her naked back in the post from “More Bad Than Good” in the opening credits, and it’s covered in the same dust and mirror shards as the Berserkers when they die, implying a relationship.

(Cut for naked Malia.)

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