By Liz Everly

You know by now that I’m not a regular TV watcher (shh, don’t tell Kiersten, our TV expert at Lady Smut). But this summer I’ve become a bit of a binge TV series watcher. And as I understand it, this is how many people are watching TV these days. I’ve finally gotten into the Game of Thrones, which of course is on a a cable channel I don’t subscribe to, so I am watching the series on DVD from the library. I’ve watched two seasons, so far. (Yes, I use the library; I’m there maybe two or three times a week.) And I just have to say WOW. I love this series. It’s a little violent for my taste at times—but the violence is necessary to the story.

But I’m not going to bend your ear about the violence. I’m here to talk about the men. I’m a little enamored by several of the guys on the show. Well, MOST of the men on the show, really, what a scrumptious cast.

I wanted to choose one for the post and I could not. So I picked my top three Game of Thrones men—each as delicious as the other, but in unique ways. Each one them could represent a romance-book hero, couldn’t they?

The tormented, VIRGIN, brave, bastard-warrior Jon Snow.

The smart, sensitive, sexy Tyerion.

The “savage” wild man who is tamed by his woman.

Don’t ask me to choose, dear reader, I don’t think I could. Could you?

While you thinking about choices, choose Lady Smut and subscribe today.

by Kiersten Hallie Krum

Okay, admittedly, I mixed my movie references in the title, but I’m of the opinion that there’s always a reason to quote Monty Python and the Holy Grail, along with Star Wars, The Princess Bride, and often The West Wing, to name a few off the top of my head. I’m hardly going to pass up the opportunity now.

Here be spoilers about Outlander the book and the show. Proceed at your own risk.

We’re mid-way through the first block of eight episodes of Outlander on the Starz network. It’s been a marvel of a show that’s staying true to the book, often lifting lines and passages straight from its pages, while inserting new scenes and making adjustments to others for the television medium that yet fit seamlessly into the ethos of the novel. It’s been a slow build of the Life and Times of Highland Scots as seen through a displaced 2oth-century woman, but there’s been no less tension for all that as Things Are Revealed and players moved into place. It helps that the actors are flawless and compelling in their roles, from the gobsmacking perfection of Sam Heaugan and Caitriona Balfe as Jamie and Claire to the pitch-perfect secondary players of Dougal MacKenzie (Graham McTavish), Geillis Duncan (Lotte Verbeek), and Murtagh (Duncan Lacroix).

The slow burn of Claire and Jamie’s courtship is hotter than any sexposition scene in Game of Thrones. The looks Jamie gives Claire when she’s not watching him (and sometimes when she is) could scorch down the castle. Their growing friendship is faithfully and charmingly rendered, lovely to watch unfold with subtle facial tics, loads of subtext, and tons of non-verbal goodness. It offers the rare opportunity in a TV show to see two people with extraordinary chemistry behave honorably as to their social circumstances even as they’re repeatedly drawn together and form a strong friendship based on respect and just flat-out liking one another that will be the foundation on which their tumultuous future rests.

Yeah. That look.

And yet…we’re waiting on the good stuff.

That would be The Wedding, slated to happen in episode 7, followed by The Bedding, which is sweet and funny and a little sad and helluva romantic. Alas, that is soon followed by The Spanking, which is…something else altogether.

The Spanking is one of the most controversial sequences in Outlander. I know of several women who refuse to have anything to do with the series mostly because they’ve heard about The Spanking. For those of us who’ve read the novel, The Spanking hovers over every episode of the show, certainly over all of Jamie and Claire’s slow courtship. We know it’s coming, we’re waiting to see how it’s rendered with near equal anticipation of The Wedding and The Bedding. It has far-reaching implications on their relationship too, but we’ll come back to that.

Part of the appeal of the historical genre in romance is the chance to subvert the domination of and submission to the authority that existed in those periods. The bluestocking who refuses to be forced into marriage by her father. The witty, spirited ingénue who must marry the mysterious duke to save her family only to heal the wounded beast with love. The beautiful captive who steals the pirate’s mercenary heart. The feisty bookworm who charms the handsome, dissolute duke. Some of that is placing modern feminist ideals onto period plots, but I’m increasingly surprised by how often it’s more about bringing to light documented ways women asserted themselves within the confines of, say, Regency or Victorian societies. In Outlander, a “modern” woman is being submitted to the male dominance of 18th-century society and she instinctively rebels (quite forcefully and vocally) against it.

Many of the objections to The Spanking is the flat-out physical abuse of the heroine by the hero along with the patriarchal notion that a man has not only a right but a duty to chastise and punish his wife. The show (and the book) touched on this 18th-century mind-set in the first episode when Claire swears and shouts at Jamie as she bandages his bullet wound. The Highlanders, unused to such impudence from a women, chide Claire that her husband needs to take her in hand. No doubt accustomed to handling sexiest behavior from soldiers and officers in a battlefield hospital, Claire rolls her eyes and snaps for them to “mind their own bloody business.” As modern women, we cheer her response and attitude, but the point has been made that the Highlanders expect Claire’s husband to discipline her for any untoward behavior, the likes of which, to their minds, she displays on a regular basis. And Jamie is soon to become that husband.

Violence permeates Outlander like a character all on its own. This is a rough era where survival came hard and lifespans were short. It’s also a tumultuous time historically with tensions between the Scots and the English that made any untoward action possibly life-threatening. From her first arrival, Claire is exposed to a skirmish between the English soldiers and the Highlanders. The fact that Claire knows how to behave in a war zone being so recently on the front lines of World War 2 is one of the main reasons she adapts so quickly to her new environment.

Violence is in everyday life at Castle Leoch, particularly toward children and women. The boy is nailed to the pillory for theft. Laoghaire is brought before the laird to be beaten for presumed loose behavior with no more proof or witness than her disgruntled father’s word. When Jamie steps up to take her punishment, it’s not because he objects to the idea of beating a young woman–that is nothing new in his world–but because he wants to spare her pride at having it done before the crowd. Violence is the expected consequence for disobeying or rebelling, particularly (though not exclusively) for women and children.

In the novel, author Diana Gabaldon takes some pains to lay out Jamie’s reasons for spanking Claire based on actions she took that landed her, him, and the rest of the Highlanders with them in mortal danger ultimately because she disobeyed Jamie’s orders.“‘There’s such a thing as justice, Claire. You’ve done wrong to them all, and you’ll have to suffer for it.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’m your husband; it’s my duty to attend to it, and I mean to do it.’” (Gabaldon, Diana. Outlander: with Bonus Content p. 251  Kindle Edition.)

Eye-sex anyone?

My hackles rise just typing “Jamie’s orders” or even with the idea that a husband has any right ever to physically punish his wife. Hell, I vehemently objected to corporal punishment from my parents–being spanked enraged me. But again, this is something that has to be taken in the vein of the culture of that century. Not excused, mind you, much like we don’t excuse the abuse of black men and women during the era of slavery by recognizing it did indeed happen. Depicting such abhorrent actions in, say, Twelve Years a Slave, is no less an accurate rendition of time and place then Jamie spanking Claire for her “offenses”. No one’s approving it by reading or watching it.

In the pages and pages and pages post-spanking during which Jamie and Claire find their way through its after effects and consequences on their very new and very raw marriage, Claire’s fury and outrage boil over at the realization that her husband enjoyed it to which Jamie heartily admits guilt. The notion that he would get painfully aroused when beating her is the last straw, worse the idea she should be grateful he didn’t act on it by forcing her afterwards. On my first reading, it was at this point when I went “oh hell no”. I get the cultural mores; I may not like them, but as an historian, I get it. But for the hero to admit that Claire’s pain, resistance, and ultimate subjugation, something she clearly was in no way enjoying, got him off? Oh hell no.

Claire responds in much the same way and Jamie gives her back that which he stripped her of through the spanking: her agency. His value of and love for Claire outweigh any disciplinary power his culture and time give him over her. He takes a solemn vow never to raise his hand to Claire again and by doing so, honors her agency, the very thing he violated by spanking her, above his cultural norms. For a man of his time, this is a revolutionary declaration. To Jamie, such a vow is sacrosanct and it elevates Claire to a reverence and commitment that is given only to men of high position. Jamie refused even to give such a vow to his Uncle Colum, Laird of the Clan MacKenzie, as it would violate the one given to his own clan. So by giving it to Claire, he raises her above any loyalty or oath to his clan and family. In effect, Claire has become Jamie’s laird. But she is also his wife, his partner and equal in a way women of the 18th century did not typically enjoy.

The Spanking sequence stands in contrast to the frank and earthy sexual pleasure Claire and Jamie discover together in their marriage bed. On their wedding night, Claire introduces the inexperienced Jamie to a little rough sexual play and later, back at Castle Leoch, before Jamie leaves her for a journey, he most definitely takes those lessons to heart.

“You’re mine, mo duinne,” he said softly , pressing himself into my depths. “Mine alone, now and forever . Mine, whether ye will it or no.” I pulled against his grip, and sucked in my breath with a faint “ah” as he pressed even deeper. “Aye, I mean to use ye hard, my Sassenach,” he whispered. “I want to own you, to possess you, body and soul.” I struggled slightly and he pressed me down, hammering me, a solid, inexorable pounding that reached my womb with each stroke. “I mean to make ye call me ‘Master,’ Sassenach.” His soft voice was a threat of revenge for the agonies of the last minutes. “I mean to make you mine.” (Gabaldon, Diana. Outlander: with Bonus Content (p. 279). Kindle Edition.)

And Claire, strong, speak-her-mind, “modern” Claire who was, more often than not, the sexual aggressor in her marriage to Frank, Claire not only submits to Jamie’s rough dominance, she viscerally responds and is an active participant.

Beads of sweat ran down his face and dropped on the pillow and on my breasts. Our flesh met now with the smack of a blow that was fast crossing the edge into pain. My thighs were bruising with the repeated impact, and my wrists felt as though they would break, but his grip was inexorable. “Aye, beg me for mercy, Sassenach. Ye shallna have it, though; not yet.” His breath came hot and fast, but he showed no signs of tiring. My entire body convulsed, legs rising to wrap around him, seeking to contain the sensation. I could feel the jolt of each stroke deep in my belly, and cringed from it, even as my hips rose traitorously to welcome it. He felt my response, and redoubled his assault, pressing now on my shoulders to keep me pinned under him. There was no beginning and no end to my response, only a continuous shudder that rose to a peak with each thrust. The hammering was a question, repeated over and over in my flesh, demanding my answer. He pushed my legs flat again, and bore me down past pain and into pure sensation, over the edge of surrender. “Yes!” I cried. “Oh God, Jamie, yes!” He gripped my hair and forced my head back to meet his eyes, glowing with furious triumph. (Gabaldon, Diana. Outlander: with Bonus Content (pp 279-280). Kindle Edition.)

And later…

“Oh, aye, Sassenach,” he answered a bit ruefully. “I am your master … and you’re mine. Seems I canna possess your soul without losing my own.” (Gabaldon, Diana. Outlander: with Bonus Content p. 280). Kindle Edition.)

I mean..strewth.

I don’t know how the show will present The Spanking. I hope they give it the time and consideration to make it more than just “they beat women back then, didja know?” That they show the watershed moment it was in the early days of Claire and Jamie’s marriage. But until then, at least there’s this:

Enjoy some rough play with your sexy times?

Check out the Big Book of Submission. Our own C. Margery Kempe’s short story The Rhino is between its pages. Click on the picture to learn more.

Follow Lady Smut.  Spanking optional.

by Madeline Iva

It’s October! (Waves arms excitedly.) I’m excited for so many reasons:

a) GIRL’S NIGHT OUT…was Glorious! Liz Everly, Alexa Day, and I had a smashing Girl’s Night Out at Derriere de soie [what a gorgeous store, what reasonably priced n fabulous lingerie!] Those who stayed til the end went home happy with little black bags, that buzzed.  If you know what I mean. And I think you do. ;>

b) WE’RE PAINTING THE TOWN AGAIN: Saturday October 11th–Liz Everly and I will be bringing the heat at the WASHINGTON LOVES READERS LUNCHEON.  Literally. She’ll be giving away books to readers, I’ll be giving away e-books of our anthology AND Lindt chocolates.  I’ll be doing some palm reading as well. Oh, and we’re giving away a LADY SMUT gift basket full of books and goodies. (Register HERE if you’re interested.  I mean, you could even sit next to us and everything.)

c) IT’S OCTOBER! — my favorite, absolutely favorite month of the year.  I heard someone say October is like Christmas for gay people.  Well, move over honey, because this witch-ay wo-man in her platform shoes likes to party in October.

Whether it’s the swirl of autumn leaves proclaiming it’s time to hustle about in scarves and mittens, the splatter of rain on black cats proclaiming it’s time for adventure in cobblestone alleyways, or all the magical street action that a Halloween night can bring to our neighborhood–I find October adorbs.  Why?

Time to unleash your inner Vampira!

d) SPOOKY SEXY COSTUMES: It calls to the Vampira sexpot inside me.  To the virgin inside me who wants to dress up naughty–really naughty just for one night.  It calls to the cackling hag inside me.  Honey—where’s my broom?

e) SPOOKY-SPOOKY SEXY READS Another thing about October — it’s purrrr-fect as a release month for us because the themes in our anthology are all spooky-spooky.

I’ve written SEXSOMNIA about  a woman sleep walking her way into hot sex with who knows? She needs to uncover the answer–and the answer in turn has something to do with a gateway to Hell.

C.Margery Kempe has some delicious masked goblin men seducing maidens down at the Goblin Market.

Elizabeth Shore has got one spooky old cool insane asylum and one freaked out movie director locked up inside for the night. Liz Everly has vampires coming through smart phones and computer screens.

Yes, it’s a sexy corn costume. WTF?????

You’ll have to check it out.  Our very own editor described our stories, and I quote, as ‘Hot, hot, hot!‘  Word on the street, (well Barnes & Noble,) is that the anthology releases Oct. 31st.  Buy it and you can read the stories on Halloween in between answering the door all night.  Hey put down that candy! It’s for the kids.

e) DEEP DARK DESIRES – THE LADY SMUT BOOK OF DARK DESIRES is all about dark desires.  When researching Sexsomnia for the book, and how your suppressed desires can affect your sleep, I realized that, man, I have a lot of dark desires. Now some people would call me a ninny, because I’ll never actually fulfill them.  Or so they think: I’ll never tell. ;>

But aside from next week, when we’re going to go all American Revolutionary on your a**es—I’ve decided to devote my blog posts to presenting these dark desires.

f) DARK DESIRE #1 — okay, not strictly a dark desire, but at least a rather odd obsession–

DISCOVERING SEXUAL CHEMISTRY BETWEEN ACTORS WHO PLAYING SIBLINGS ON TV.

It’s the strangest, closest thing to incest there is without–you know–really going to ick-ville.  Why the obsession, Madeline?

Ahhh! Chocolate!!!

I’m so glad you asked!  Okay, it’s like, first of all what drives these relationships? Because it seems to happen a lot.  Is it the long hours of working together in the sexed-up atmosphere of acting/Hollywood, (Yes) combined with the lure of the forbidden that sucks them in? (Yes.) I mean, there’s so little forbidden in this day and age–it must be like catnip to these people.

Do some have a masochistic desire to tank their career?–because fans are NEVER happy to find out about it. Is it some sort of acting leakage — like they’re playing a role where they show each other fondness, friendship, protectiveness, teasing–and then that leaks out into their real relationship and then suddenly once they’re thinking about each other things take a really super-perverse  turn?

OR–Kiersten Hallie Krum—because we know that the actors playing Claire and Jamie in Outlander are as madly in love with each other off screen as they appear to be on screen– Is it that we just want to flip the bird to acting insiders who claim “usually people who like each other simply have no chemistry on set whatsoever and actually it’s the people who simply hate each other who do.“

Yes, I want to prove these people are soooooo WRONG. Chemistry is chemistry sez I. But I’d like to have some evidence to prove these insiders wrong.

The other reaction I have is HA! I *knew* it!  My random kink of watching for The Vibe That Should Not Be There But Is results in my growing more addicted each time I spot it.  (I know, get a life, right?)

The first time I spotted it on a soap opera, Another World.  I was *cough* three years old *cough* when I noticed that a good girl who had given up her baby for adoption sixteen years ago (back when she was a bad girl) now faced that baby — er, six foot guy, who threatened to expose her sin to all the town.  Is he her son? Or is he a con artist? Or he’s a con artist who THINKS he’s not her son, but really HE IS? Who frickin’ cared?–their chemistry was hot, hot, hot! I learned that he even got fired from the show and later secretly rehired because the executives were like no, no NO! This is now where the story is going.  Meanwhile, I was like yes, yes, YES! Why, when you have magic before you, why toss it away? Why?

I spotted it three other times.  Here are three guesses where I got it right:

Katherine Heigle and Jason Behr on ROSWELL.  They just seemed not at all brother & sister-ish.  They didn’t look alike, (if anything Heigle looked related to the other tall strapping alien).  But what I really noticed (this is going to sound soooo weird, I know) is that in their scenes together I was very focussed on her boobs.  A lot.  Why? Okay, here’s my theory, I think when two actors are in a room thinking about boobs in a scene, somehow we all end up thinking about boobs.

Emily and David…aren’t they cute? My stomach feels so strange.

Emily VanCamp and David Annable on BROTHERS & SISTERS.  They obviously were playing a brother and sister.  I saw their chemistry a mile off.  From the very first scene.  So did the producers of the show.  This is where I give two thumb’s up to the producers: they changed the show to exploit the chemistry.  First they meet as adults and discover they’re related: OH but wait! They’re really NOT.  I think this is the main reason why I get so into catching these things.  I wonder if the producers will stay set in their plan, or use the magic where they find it?

Milo Ventimiglia and Hayden Panettiere on HEROES.  They had immediate VAST chemistry from their first scene together as well.  I don’t know why the producers didn’t see this coming and change things accordingly.  But alas, their characters turned out to be uncle and niece.  Meanwhile, they dated off screen and I guess everyone blamed poor Milo, because he was a decent actor yet who has seen him since?

How much pressure do the studios put on boinking brother-sister actors to keep it under wraps? A lot, is what I’m guessing. Who successfully hid their secret and we never knew? I tell you who surprised me: David Cassidy and Susan Dey from the Partridge Family.  Of course I wasn’t looking for it then…because I wasn’t even born then…*cough*.

Anyway, it’s a crazy situation, that’s SO juicy and inherently fraught with melodrama.  Ya know? And how many situations in contemporary romance are able to get that touch of forbidden desire in there? Not many.

Meanwhile, follow Lady Smut for more scandalous revelations of dark desires.  You won’t want to miss a thing.

by Kiersten Hallie Krum

Renée Zellweger has been out of the spotlight for a few years but stepped back into it in a huge way when she appeared at Elle Magazine’s annual Women in Hollywood awards. A collective gasp was heard around the world when she appeared looking dramatically…different.

Now…Then

Granted, a lot of it has to do with how and when she’s photographed and some of the pictures out there make her look much, much worse than she actually appears. But why the outcry over Renée Zellweger’s alteration? Is the world just completely incapable of dealing with a woman aging in the public eye? Do we look with titillated horror at her transformation as though it’s some sort of comeuppance for manipulating her beauty? Why again is this at the top of the 11 o’clock news cycle in the first place?

Most pundits believe the collective shock over Renée Zellweger’s facial changes is mostly because popular culture cannot deal with a woman aging in public. Well no, it can’t, and women are almost (though not entirely) exclusively subjected to a brutal public judgment on everything to how they appear to how they act to how they do–or do not–breed. But even the staunchest feminist has to admit that age alone did not cause the dramatic changes in Renée Zellweger. Even so, it’s not that she allegedly had plastic surgery to maintain or enhance her looks. It’s that she dared to do it so dramatically, we the public can not maintain the fiction that it’s possible to age without external help to keep us looking as though we’re not aging.

You can re-read that last sentence until it makes sense. I’ll wait.

It is, of course, her face and thus her business. But as a public figure who has made a living with her face (and her considerable talent, but more on that in mo), any change is going to bring about extensive commentary. It should not, however, invite moral judgment. That said, a quick Google search of Renée Zellweger’s name populates a baffling amount of op-eds. About her face.

Why can we not shut up about Renée Zellweger’s face?

Experts in The New York Times article “Why the Strong Reaction to Renée Zellweger’s Face?” think the outcry is due to the public no longer being able to recognize a familiar face. “This is about a lot of subtle changes that up to a person who no longer looks like our memory of them. She looks like a different person,” says evolutionary psychologist Nancy Etcoff in The Times. In the same article, Doctor Debra L. Spar, author of Wonder Women: Sex, Power, and the Quest of Perfection, notes the hypocrisy of the situation. “On the one hand, we’re being told don’t worry about how you look, embrace inner goodness, and stop judging on external appearance, and yet, as a community, we have done nothing but talk about poor Renée Zellweger’s face all week.”

This Boston Globe piece suggests the public can’t get over when “America’s Sweetheart” movie stars change their appearances so that they no long look like the relatable girl-next-store ideal we fell in love with in the first place.

“Adoring fans take it personally. They feel baffled (“Why would you do that to yourself?”). They feel sad (“Why aren’t you the same sweet girl with the same sweet face you had a quarter century ago?”). Most of all, they feel offended (“Why would you purposely deprive me of my fantasy that you’re not an actress playing a part but are actually Baby/Sally/Dorothy? Why would you remind me that I’m older than I was when we first “met”? Why can’t you let me live in the 1970s/1980s/1990s, back in the days of wine and roses instead of the days of Gawker and TMZ?”)”

Amanda Marcotte at The Daily Beast thinks it’s more about the delusion of how hard women are expected to work to look like they’re not trying to look good while still looking good.

“[Renée] Zellweger’s face puts us off because it reminds us that she’s had work done and we’d prefer to think that somehow there’s a way to be 45 without looking 45 that doesn’t require work….Perhaps this should be an invitation to everyone to stop pretending that effortless perfection is a thing that exists in the world.”

An op-ed in The Atlantic consists entirely of a series of questions the writer now has buzzing about in her head to ask of Renée Zellweger solely about her transformation. In The Atlantic!

Nowhere in these pieces is there a discussion of Renée Zellweger’s considerable talent. Bridget Jones is regularly name-checked as her most broadly relatable character now impinged by the actress’s changed appearance along with Dorothy from Jerry Maguire and a few hat tips to her Oscar-winning role in Cold Mountain. But little of her outstanding work in Chicago is mentioned, for example. It’s all about her face, as though she has no identity or purpose beyond her “look”. Or, as comedian Russell Brand puts it in his The Trews news segment that mocks the “news” coverage of Renée Zellweger, “‘This is the thing that made Renée Zellweger herself: Her eyes.’ Not any kind of essential relationship with an unknowable entity. Not her personal experiences that she’s been through. Not her talent or her charm or her individual experiences as a woman. It’s her eyes. That’s what made her herself.”

Brand’s mocking scorn brings home the most disturbing, if not surprising, point: Renée Zellweger is being completely boiled down to the sum of her parts and that sum no longer equals the public’s expectations, so it’s open season. Never mind her talent or body of work. Never mind that she’s living a healthier life or that she claims to be the happiest she’s ever been. She doesn’t look the same, thus she must be vilified. All her success and accomplishments, her personality and values, are brushed aside because her face changed. I mean, good God, if this is what happens to her, what hope do the rest of us have?

Our image-obsessed society is too accustomed and too ready to associate physical attributes with success and attraction. We do it as writers too: the first way we describe a character is through their appearance. Those descriptions are often deployed as short-hand speak for character attributes, especially when we veer off from the standard hair color, eye color, and facial features descriptors and delve more deeply, like with the addition of a prominent scar or a person who dresses impeccably to hide a messy inner life, to show how the outward image of our characters reflects inward trauma and/or happiness. (Well, it’s always initially trauma, innit? If they all started out happy, we’d have nothing to write about.) We write Romance in its variety of forms so of course we want our characters to be attractive, at least to each other and, most importantly, to the reader. They have to be people who physically appeal to the reader, to the public, before we can get those readers to care about them. They have to be an image to which the reader can aspire before they can be a character for which the reader will invest. That’s a little backwards, yeah? Readers should invest because our characters are interesting and challenging and complex and entertaining in one way or another, not only because they fit some sort of physical ideal. And yet, that’s the world we write in; that’s the world we live in. Just ask Renée Zellweger.

The world is full of people brushed aside because they don’t meet the popular idea of beauty, a concept that itself changes every few centuries. We bemoan air-brushed magazines covers and scoff at underfed actresses only to bitch when one of those women dares to do something else, dares to be something else. Renée Zellweger herself told People Magazine she’s happy the world is discussing her transformation. “I’m glad folks think I look different! I’m living a different, happy, more fulfilling life, and I’m thrilled that perhaps it shows.” Happiness is the golden ticket, right? That’s what the Internet memes exhort, at least. Happiness is what we all ultimately want in our lives and presume to want for others. In Romance, our readers want to see how our characters ultimately live happily ever after, or at least happy for now. As such, we’d all be better off to focus more on what Renée Zellweger is saying and less on how she’s looking, or as Russell Brand puts it:

“The important spiritual message this woman is trying to convey about personal transition is completely submerged in a glistening deluge of odd gloating and sacrificial sort of meanness.”

 See the entirety of Russell Brand’s The Trews segment embedded below.

Follow Lady Smut. We’ll make you happy one way or another.

by Kiersten Hallie Krum

Consent in romance can be a bit tricky to unpack given the less than vaunted history of rape fantasies and forced seduction in the genre. One of the most common slurs against the romance genre is that they are nothing more than “bodice rippers,” novels where the pristine heroine is “forced” to succumb to her older, more-experience lover as he reveals her untapped passion. I put forced deliberately in quotes because in such old skool romances, as we refer to them now, the heroine had to be portrayed first as a sexual innocent and then as only reluctantly “forced” into enjoying her sexuality through the hero’s overwhelming desire. She could only give into sex and enjoy it if the man gave her no other choice whether by overwhelming her with his desire or by actually overwhelming her. Kathleen E. Woodiwiss’ seminal The Flame and the Flower is the gold standard of this trope where the heroine is mistaken by the hero for being a prostitute and is “forced” into sex, almost blatantly raped under the guise of romance. Later, after he’s forced to marry her because she was innocent and genteel-born and he “ruined” her, she essentially falls in love with her rapist. Wonderful role-models for romance there.

Thankfully, romance has come a long way from those rape fantasy tropes. These days, if there’s force going on in a romance, it probably involves bindings…and is consensual. But that doesn’t mean the issue of consent has gone away and in fact it shows up most overtly in paranormal and urban fantasy romance novels. The question of consent hovers over stories with “fated” lovers, the trope in which the conflicted supernatural creature– whether vampire, wolf shifter, or honey badger–needs his (it’s almost always the male who is in need) fated mate in order to offset some horrible curse. The heroine often sacrifices her ability to consent in these situations: when the world is in peril from a curse, who is she to quibble over losing control of her “destiny”?

The first installment of the crackalicious Black Dagger Brotherhood series involves this trope along with some class A stalking issues for “her protection” as does the original first installment of Kresley Cole’s (admittedly addictively awesome) Immortals After Dark series. As readers, we go with the flow of the story here, that this obsession of the hero for the heroine, one that forces her (no quotes here) to go along with what he wants for an immediate payment of equally supernatural orgasms, is “romantic” in its way since it evolves into a committed love relationship and often is part of the heroine’s own journey to her power, which either matches or eclipses the hero’s. Sure, it’s romantic to think of a lover compelled by forces beyond reason to love and need only one woman, the whole concept of “soul mate” in these cases taken to a supernatural conclusion. But is that really any different from an old-skool forced seduction that ends in a loving marriage? (Full disclosure: I’m actually a big fan of the “fated soul mates” trope, at least in fiction, but that makes me want to all the more deeply deconstruct them.)

Fellow Lady Smut blogger, Madeline Iva, and I touched upon this idea during last week’s Facebook release party for The Lady Smut Big Book of Dark Desires. In her novella in that anthology, Sexomnia, the heroine, Jenny, is possessed by a succubus demon who calls herself Jennifer. When Jenny sleeps, Jennifer comes out to play with a variety of partners with no gender barrier and no thought to Jenny’s own desires. Each night of excess leaves Jenny somewhere new in the morning with no memory of anything–or anyone–Jennifer did while she slept. In this, Jennifer is malevolent, evil, not because of her unapologetic sexuality, but because she’s removing Jenny’s power of consent.

This week’s episode of the deliciously creepy Sleepy Hollow, while admittedly not a romance, featured a succubus as the monster-of-the-week. Here there’s no question she’s entirely evil, sucking life and hearts from her victims in order to sustain a demon overlord. It’s safe to assume nobody consents to getting their heart sucked out.

On the urban fantasy show Lost Girl, Bo is a succubus fighting to understand and control her growing powers. She feeds off the sexual chi of her lovers (or are they victims?) who die when she takes too much of their life force. One of the (sadly) unique draws of the show is the stated lack of slut shaming toward Bo for her biological need to have sex to sustain her life force. But the issue of sexual consent for her partners is never outright addressed. (It’s safe to assume a lack of consent to her draining them of life.) When she trolls her neighborhood bar for potential partners, there’s never a question of whether or not, free of her succubus influence, those partners would choose to have sex with Bo. She’s hot and seductive so it’s assumed that anyone she chooses, male or female, will naturally be ready and willing to get it on.

But what if they’re not? Under the influence of her supernatural power, how would they know? Part of Bo’s power is the ability to control people outside of sex too through her influence on their libido and then make them forget what they did for and with her. How again is that different from a roofie in someone’s drink eliminating their ability to say no? And what about the dichotomy between what the body wants and what the mind knows better than to do? In the Lost Girl mythology, a succubus can arouse a man or woman’s body whether or not his or her mind objects. Any fidelity toward a significant other, for example, would have no significance regardless of the person’s otherwise clear-headed, uninfluenced wishes. Also, the succubus is traditionally female, likely in order to further invest female sexuality as something evil, but switch the genders and the issues of consent in this supernatural trope are even more obvious and possibly even more alarming.

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Yeah, romances can just be an escape and urban fantasy/genre shows can just be fantastical camp. But does that erase the responsibility to at least be aware of how we’re playing with and perhaps influencing the consent issue in a pop-culture obsessed society? As we manipulate genre tropes and celebrate female sexuality in its many varied and wonderful embodiments, should we be more careful of addressing consent? Or doesn’t it matter when we’re writing or watching succubuses and vampires and that ever elusive honey badger in the first place?

Want a taste of a demonic succubus? Check out Sexomnia and the other sexy stories in The Lady Smut Book of Dark Desires, now available.

Follow Lady Smut. We’ll ask for your consent every time…and a safe word when needed.

By Liz Everly

So by now you all know that I’m a wee bit behind on some pop-culture. Let’s call it the mom-syndrome. (Or at least one kind of mom-syndrome. There are many, I am sure. But that’s the subject of another post–and probably another kinda blog.)

These days, thanks to my 13-year-old daughter, I’m all about Sam and Dean. What? You don’t know what Sam and Dean are? Well my friend, here’s Sam and Dean. Now, maybe  YOU are already know them. After all, they’ve been on TV for ten very successful seasons with the show SUPERNATURAL. Shhh. I am only on Season Two, so if you know more about them, please no spoilers.

My youngest daughter loves Sam. And I like that because if I had to choose one for my daughter, yes, it would be Sam. And as far as she knows, I’m all about Sam. But seriously, if my fairy godmother came down and told me to choose, I’d probably say, “Both please!” That’s not something I’d share with my daughter. Wink.

Sam is the younger, sweeter, kinder brother who was in college with a full-scholarship when his brother came to ask him for his help to find their demon-hunting father. A very bright young man. He’s not hard to look at either.

Dean is the typical oldest brother alpha male. He’s a tough smart-ass, but deep down, he has a soft nurturing center. He’s had to take care of his younger brother—and he’s done a great job of it. 

These two are fighting off demons, vampires, tricksters, and so many other kinds of supernatural creatures. But I’ve seen TV shows and movies like this that don’t grab me the way this one does. What makes it rock? For me, it’s simple: The relationship between the brothers. Also, the back story and relationship with their Dad and long-gone Mom is compelling. The narrative arc is a long one and it works because of the depth of these relationships. The demon-fighing is fun stuff—but what you feel like sobbing or laughing are the poignant moments between the brothers.

It also helps that they are both…um..HAWT!

Am I the only Supernatural fan out there?

If you’re not a Supernatural fan, no worries, we are sure that Lady Smut has something for you, so don’t forget to subscribe.  For the next few weeks, my American historical is on sale for .99. Tempting Will McGlashen is available at all e-book stores.

by Kiersten Hallie Krum

Hello, my name is Kiersten and I am an awards-show junkie. Specifically, TV and movie-related awards shows, which means the Emmys, the Golden Globes (my favorite because everyone’s drunk and anything can–and does–happen), and the mothership of awards shows: The Oscars. I’ve been know to scan the SAG awards, run the Tonys in the background while I work online, drop in on the BAFTAs, and record the American Country Music Awards, the CMAs, and the Grammys because I don’t get out to live concerts as much as I’d like to and day-am but there are some great music performances happening at those awards shows.

Years ago, I’d spend the first hour or so of the Monday morning after back-seat quarterbacking the Oscars with my boss–the fashions, the winners, the losers, the oh-my-giddy-aunt moments–before starting our work day. I’ve written detailed play by play, after-action blogs and, with the advent of social media, a moment-by-moment tweet stream of real-time reactions. As I write this on Sunday afternoon, I can’t guarantee I won’t do the same tonight for the Oscars telecast because the draw is still so strong even though lately, well, lately we’ve been taking a break.

I find myself less engaged in the flotsam and jetsam of awards seasons. I haven’t been able to figure out when and why my love has faltered. I mean, I’m the woman who’s had her Oscar acceptance speech written since she was 14. One year, back when the Oscars were still in March and pre-social media craze when the Internet was still mostly dial-up, I was in Italy during the Oscars and the first thing I did when I woke up the morning after was seek out a winners list.  So what the what now?

It’s stopped being fun.

Sunday night, ABC ran Oscar red-carpet coverage starting at 4 o’clock in the afternoon ET. Why?! That’s 1 PM on the West Coast. Nobody’s on the red carpet at 1 PM! Except possibly publicists. Or rather, the publicists’ assistants.

The insipid patter of pundits “covering” the red carpet gets more and more ludicrous each year. The “mani-cam” is quite possibly the awards show version of jumping the shark. For those of you wondering, the “mani-cam” is a small camera in a box into which celebrities put their hands to show off their manicures as though Ryan Seacrest is a Bene Gesserit and the “mani-cam” his pain box. And then there’s the cost, the sheer gluttony of “gifts” given to people who not only can afford it themselves but very much do not need more. The gift bags at the 2015 Oscars are reportedly worth $160,000. A country in recovery. An on-going healthcare crisis. A weather crisis that has Boston and surrounding areas facing disaster-like conditions in its economics and infrastructure. The rising cost of food. And the gift bags at the Academy Awards are worth $160,000. That’s downright obscene.

It’s like live-tweeting. I love live tweeting shows and movies. In fact, a good chunk of my first real flush of Twitter followers came about via live-tweeting. Then actors who were Twitter fiends started live-tweeting their shows. It was organic and special and helluva lot of fun, like a reward for those fans canny enough to be aware it was happening. It also started driving live-viewing numbers for those shows as fans had to be watching the show to get in on the live-tweet fun rather than wait to watch it on DVRs. Other shows took notice and now, it’s become an arranged marketing strategy where various show’s casts are wrangled together to live tweet. With the right group, it can still be fun. Nashville and Banshee, for example, are two shows whose casts consistently live tweet together and it still feels organic. Last season, the social media manager for Nashville would occasionally arrange a for the cast to ride together on a luxury bus through Nashville while live-tweeting the new Nashville episode. Then they’d drop in at bars and other locales sometimes featured in the show. Perfect meta is perfect. Other than the few exceptions, it’s somehow become less special as it’s become more…deliberate. More contrived.

Which brings me back to awards shows. Let’s be honest, it’s always been contrived, but it used to be fun too. Billy Crystal who never took himself too seriously and made sure no one else did either. Jack Palance doing push ups. Sean Penn’s boycotts. Cher’s whackadoo outfits. But now it’s lost its mystique. Everyone is so, well, corporate. The same names, the same faces. Even Meryl Streep is getting sick of Meryl Streep being nominated. When Hugh Jackman hosted (I’m a big, long-term fan of that man), I watched for his opening song and dance routine and boy howdy did he deliver. But his last time out, the mid-telecast big show number with Beyoncé was just more evidence of the problem (her husband was the executive producer of the telecast and it showed as she was everywhere all night.) (Not that Beyoncé needs her husband to get her a gig on the Oscars, which is kinda the rest of my point.) (But that’s another post.)

Overall, there’s less to believe in. Bon mots of the moment are often turned around to a gaffe by the end of the next news cycle. There’s more importance place on what trended than what was actually said.

I also don’t have a dog in this fight. I’m largely unmoved by many of the nominees this year, mostly because I hardly ever get out to the movies anymore where once I was hitting two or three a month. The high cost of tickets coupled with the aggravating crowds and other issues have made the movie-going experience much less entertaining overall. And with the quality of TV getting better and better every season so that many of the stars you once could only see in movies now do double-duty on television, there’s less need to (heh) buy in to the movie theater angst to see good performances.

I still love movies and TV. Still love live-tweeting, Still love visual storytelling. When it comes to awards shows, I remain awed by the jewels and the dresses and the precise wax jobs and the sheer nerve it takes to wear some of the more extreme ensembles. And yes, I’m still hooked, still watching to see what Neil Patrick Harris brings for his opening salvo, still wanting to know what happens, but I’m far less engaged with every passing year. Where once I watched with the inspired glee of the acolyte, now I view with the measured disappointment of the disillusioned. Bah Humbug Hollywood.

Do you jones on award show season every year? Or has the bloom long departed this waxed and buffed rose?

Follow Lady Smut. We’ve got your shiny gold statue right here.

By Elizabeth Shore

Two years ago I wrote a post about the hotness factor in gladiators. At the time, the show Spartacus was on and gladiators were having a resurgence of sorts. But that was then and this is now, and it’s time we talked about Vikings.

If you haven’t seen the show, by the gods remedy that – pronto! It’s a delicious feast for the senses – entertaining, compelling plotlines and visually stunning scenery … and I’m not only talking about the jaw-dropping views of mountains and fjords. I’m talking about the gorgeous cast. Travis Fimmel, anyone?

 Here’s Travis in his early days when he was just a young ‘un modeling for Calvin Klein. Even back in the day it’s easy to see why he was eventually cast as legendary Norse ruler Ragnar Lothbrok. The chiseled face, blond hair and piercing blue eyes make for a pretty picture as a model, and an intimdating one as he gets older and plays the fearless leader who believes  he’s destined for greatness. Now, admittedly, Fimmel isn’t the greatest actor to ever grace the screen. But seriously, with that face – and those abs! – who cares?

Although Fimmel may be the star of the show, he’s not the only gorgeous guy in the cast. Let’s take a moment and talk about Clive Standen. Never heard of him? Well, ladies, let your eyes raid this:

Any complaints? I thought not.

Ragnar Lothbrok also has a pretty hot son, played by Hunger Games actor Alexander Ludwig, who now in Vikings’ 3rd season is all grown up and ready to plunder.

The females in the cast are just as beautiful. I particularly adore Katheryn Winnick as Lagertha, Ragnar’s former wife. She’s as badass as they come, fighting right alongside the men during the fiercest of battles. Actress Winnick is perfectly, cast, too. In real life she’s an accomplished martial artist, obtaining her first black belt at age 13. She’s also a licensed bodyguard and owns a string of taekwondo studios. In other words. don’t f**k with her.

It’s true that historical vikings were nothing to admire. They raided, they pillaged, they raped women, they killed innocents, they took what wasn’t theirs. They weren’t bad boys to be admired, they were truly bad boys from which to run far far away. And to be fair, the History Channel’s series doesn’t entirely look the other way when it comes to the harsh reality of what vikings were and did. A friend of mind, in fact, doesn’t watch the show because she says it’s too violent. The battle scenes are bloody, it’s true, although for me the most gruesome scene of the entire series thus far was the “blood eagle” ceremony from season 2. If you don’t know what that is, brace yourself. Or hit the fast forward button.

Alongside the beautiful cast and scenery, the plotlines keep me hooked. There’s really compelling subtext going on in the character of Athelstan, a former monk who was captured and later befriended by Ragnar. Athelstan suffers pangs of spiritual crisis, hovering between his former Christian identify and his new Pagan one.

So grab a cup of glog and giving Vikings a try. It’ll bring out the warrior in you.

by Madeline Iva

God, I love lavish historical dramas.  This week at LadySmut we’re celebrating the last week of Droughtlander, and Kiersten will probably have much to say next Monday about the first episode of Outlander, Season Two, Episode 1.

It was a harsh barren land for historical drama when I was growing up.  My mom told me about something called The Thornbirds–both the book and the made-for-TV show.  She told me the entire plot one time during a long car ride and it sounded awesome, but I never got to see it myself.

Yet I will get to see this awesome new series revived from that Thornbirds-ish time — it’s called Poledark. Yes — another amazing production from the other side of the pond. It’s being updated. Remember that hot dwarf Kili in The Hobbit? That’s him! That’s Poldark. Meanwhile, feast your eyes on this preview:

Poldark comes back from losing the war in America, only to find things are rotten at home and the lady he loves is now with his cousin.  Boo! He rallies, it’s complicated, and we root for him.  They had me at the horse running across the green cliff tops.  The sucky part is that it doesn’t land on the U.S. shores until June on PBS. :(

Austenland. Best. Darcy. Ever!

Why are we so swept away with historicals? Why? Things are so much better now for women, for everybody–so why do we love them so obsessively? Maybe because of the emphasis on beauty–both of women, men and of nature. There’s also an emphasis on goodness and firm character, as well as on plain ole heroism. Bonus points for the overt attention to the dangers of evil seducers.  Historical romances are where I first learned that beauty can draw rakes and cads out of the woods and to beware.  I think I learned more about how to avoid date rapists, douche bags and other toxic forms of man through historical romances than I ever did from my mom. (A woman who, alas, was drawn to cads.)

I liked OUTLANDER–what am I saying? I loved Outlander. Talk about a visual feast!  The TV show was just an excuse to go back and re-read the first two books.  They are so whack.  Whoever could have guessed that a time-travel Scottish historical adventure romance would be this whompishly successful? Gabaldon threw everything in there but the kitchen sink.  In book two, when the romance is pretty well settled, it’s fascinating to note how Gabaldon keeps us romance readers going.  She does it by having the hero and heroine drawn apart, and then back together.  Then apart again, then back together.  Over and over, it’s like the soothing cycles of waves washing on the beach.

Belle — j’dore.

I realized that one standard I have for historicals like Outlander which I don’t have for everything else is that I want to enjoy them over and over again. So here’s my go-to list for lush costume historical movies, classic books, and historical romances that I’ll read or watch over and over:

For movies it’s LAST OF THE MOHICANS, A ROOM WITH A VIEW, and SENSE & SENSIBILITY.  Also check out BELLE if you haven’t before.  There’s an awesome satire about people who love love love Jane Austen’s period and historical romances (C’est moi) which is the movie AUSTENLAND. It’s so good it hurts–I SWEAR!

Want some heartbreak? Try CAMILLE by Alexander Dumas.  The movie is very different, but also excellent in a dreamy way, and it stars Greta Garbo.  Also try VILLETTE by Charlotte Bronte–so overlooked, yet really brilliant.  It’s almost an anti-romance for it’s time–heck, for this time too–and quite, quite radical.

I am all sensibility when it comes to Historicals.

If you insist on genre romances, try some Georgette Heyer.  No sex, but really good slang, and if you’re surrounded by crass vulgarians you’ll love the emphasis on manners and civility.  Here are my two all time favorites to reread: THE GRAND SOPHY (maybe the most perfect light historical romance ever written?) and FREDERICA.  Also good are: The Quiet Gentleman, Sylvester, or the Wicked Uncle, Arabella, The None Such, Cotillion, The Convenient Marriage, These Old Shades, and Devil’s Cub.

Pushing aside my worship of all things Georgette Heyer, my other two all time favorite go to’s for historical romance are Joanna Bourne’s THE SPYMASTER’S LADY, and Loretta Chase’s LORD OF SCOUNDRELS.  These are books I can reread a thousand times over and still find delightful.

So enjoy! And follow us at LadySmut.com.

by Kiersten Hallie Krum

Outlander is back and started part two of its electrifying first season with a bang, a spanking, and, well, some really hawt banging. I’m pretty sure smoke actually wafted up from my flat screen.

Let me say from the outset that I thought this episode was absolutely brilliant, a victorious return for the series and an emotional and adventurous hour of television that made me tense, made me laugh, made me sigh, and made me more than a bit giddy. But I’m still gonna nit pick the shit outta it because, well, duh.

Warning: Here be spoilers. Don’t read any further if you haven’t already seen the episode.

No, really.

NO. REALLY.

SERIOUSLY.

SPOILERS.

Adapting a book always has its difficulties and many has been the disappointing adaptation for changing core elements of the story so many readers fell in love with in the first place. From the start, the people behind Outlander have gone out of their way to make the show as true to the spirit and often literally the letter of the book, seeding the scripts with lines lifted from the novels to the joy of all long-term fans. There’s no way–there’s no way–any show is going to get everything in there especially when you’re talking about a book of 800+ pages. Often it’s the spirit rather than the letter of the story that is seen on-screen.

The shift in POV

Episode 9, The Reckoning, is chock full of watershed moments for Outlander that will reverberate through the rest of Claire and Jamie’s journey together. It’s also the first episode to most deviate from the canon starting with the voice-over from Jamie, which sets the tone for the episode as being, for a change, from his point-of-view. I’ll admit to a tinge of disappointment when I first heard this news. Outlander has been heralded for many things, but at the forefront is its near unique celebration of the female gaze. Shifting to Jamie’s perspective is a departure away from that.

But this shift allows the show to employ one of the Golden Rules of Storytelling: Show, Don’t Tell. Readers of the novels are accustomed to the story being filtered solely through Claire’s first-person recitation, which means we learn what happens to Jamie and the others when and if they tell her. On film, that’s quite boring. Showing those events in action has much greater resonance with an audience and that requires opening the point-of-view beyond Claire’s sole perspective. It also allows the show to crack open the wider world of Outlander in key scenes that are pivotal to the ongoing story and that is never a bad thing. If there’s a time to do such a shift, kicking off the show’s return after a six-month hiatus is the strategic moment for it.

Let’s break it down.

Horrocks and The Brothers MacKenzie

While pushed aside for a while in the book, given the flurry of events surrounding Claire’s kidnapping and rescue, here Jamie’s meeting with the British deserter Horrocks kicks off the episode. We begin by seeing what Jamie was doing while Claire was rushing back to Craig na Dun. The revelation of Jack Randall as the murderer of the soldier for which Jamie is accused is now front-loaded so that we the audience have that knowledge and can see it brewing within Jamie as he heads into Fort William after Claire.

Likewise, Jamie’s perspective allows the Brothers MacKenzie, Colum and Dougal, to be brought center stage shining a spotlight on the family politics churning within the walls of Castle Leoch. Dougal’s shilling for funds for Prince Charlie does not go over well with the Laird. The gloves are taken off as the brothers go toe-to-toe with Ned Gowan and Jamie as witnesses. Later, Colum reveals his anger toward Jamie is due to his plans for Jamie to succeed him as laird, a plan not shared by Dougal, being scuttled by Jamie’s marriage to Claire. an Englishwoman. None of which we the audience would’ve been privy to had the story continued solely in Claire’s perspective.

Didja notice no one spoke conversational Gaelic in the episode? That’s because Jamie and the others speak both languages fluidly. Whatever scene he is in, the language spoken in it is one he can understand and, by correlation, the audience also understands. While in Claire’s POV, we understand only the languages she speaks, but in Jamie’s it’s all the same.

Laoghaire’s Expanded Role

Laoghaire is arguably more nuisance than obstruction until…well, we won’t spoil that now, will we? Claire is told how Jamie spoke to her in the hall and set things straight, but with Jamie’s perspective now at the forefront, we see Laoghaire seek Jamie out to literally throw herself at him. Denied by Claire, Jamie is (briefly) tempted, which humanizes him as honor tempted and proven has more value than a mere untested if well-intended vow. Laoghaire is more of a threat here, but also is an example of the kind of woman Jamie would have been married to had Claire not made the scene. His exposure to Claire has already made Jamie a different man, one who is not satisfied by a mild-mannered Scottish girl but instead needs the challenges and complexities of life with a woman like Claire, even if that woman isn’t allowing him into her bed at the time.

The Rescue

I was riveted by this entire scene. We’ve been in Claire’s head for so long, it’s shocking to see her finally in a situation from which she can’t talk or reason her way out. It’s a harsh wake up call to the peril to which she’s at risk in this brutal era. And then to see her from Jamie’s momentarily helpless perspective as he’s forced to watch Randall abuse her while he, Jamie, waits for his moment. It’s offensive and frightening and it’s meant to be.  The standoff between Jamie and Randall crackles with things left unsaid that, for the moment, only the two of them now. Randall is repulsive and terrifying and he taunts Jamie mercilessly. All of his crimes against Jamie and his family flit across Jamie’s face as he barely holds himself back, particularly when Randall mocks him with “only risk brings the possibility of reward,” an adage that no doubt has deeper meaning for them both that is yet to be revealed.

I will nitpick that I dislike the change made with regard to the pistol. Jamie goes after Claire bare-handed with an empty pistol because he used it to kill a soldier on his way in and didn’t stop to reload once he heard Claire scream, a small but key detail. There was a blood cost for Claire’s disobedience, one Jamie bears, and one that no longer exists in this version of events.

The Fight

If there was one scene that paid off in ways no long-term fan could truly have expected, it was this first major confrontation between the married couple. It’s blistering, violent, painful, unhinged, and passionate. Jamie and Claire both are out of control, all the fear and pain and anger they’ve set aside till now bursting forth. They were already brewing before Claire got kidnapped thanks to the assault in the glen, which Jamie isn’t afraid to throw right at her. Having escaped Randall now, it’s the first time they’ve been safe enough for those feelings to finally be violently released on each other.

Sam Heughan does such amazing work in this episode, you can almost hear the lines he doesn’t speak from the minute shifts in his expression first in the confrontation with Randall but especially during this verbal brawl when he goes from inchoate rage to emotional devastation in moments. You can see the huge effort he exerts to avoid hurting Claire even when she wails on him. His offended pride, outright rage, and emotional turmoil are tangible and after the scuffle, he trembles with uncharacteristic vulnerability as he confesses “you’re tearing my guts out. Claire.”

Caitriona Balfe is likewise at the top of her game, perhaps more so for not having the voice over with which to explain Claire’s feelings. None is needed either as everything she says and does is so fiercely displayed. Mere hours from being attacked by Randall, Claire yet she still goes toe-to-toe with Jamie, at one point smacking him across the face in unhinged rage and pain regardless of what retaliation that might bring. There are so many things happening between them here, so many layers being revealed and torn apart until they both practically bleed onto the ground. And let’s just pause for a moment in appreciation for Claire’s jutting chin.

Respect.

The Spanking Scene

We’ve been waiting for it and here it is. In the near ocean of publicity that has flooded the press this week for Outlander (and huzzah to the Starz publicity machine on a job well done there), much was made of “the spanking scene.” It was repeatedly referenced by cast and producers as a pivotal shift for Claire and Jamie’s relationship and rightly so. It’s a major turning point in their story together, the outcome of which sets the parameters of their marriage as they endure cataclysmic events on the near horizon. But here is where I think changing to Jamie’s point-of-view was detrimental to the proceedings.

Of all the things I’d considered about the spanking scene, I never expected it to be…well…played for laughs. The music cue was jaunty. Claire’s disbelief at what was happening was so incredulous as to border on amusement. The scampering around the bed felt like an 18th-century episode of Benny Hill. The struggle was real. The fight, fierce. Claire was pissed and she got more than her own in including a solid kick to Jamie’s nose that made me grin. But given as it was framed from Jamie’s perspective rather than from Claire’s, the whole emotional approach was considerably lighter bolstered by the repeated cuts to the peanut gallery below getting their just deserts from Claire’s humiliation. Claire and Jamie are both right from their respective positions and while Jamie feels justified, he isn’t being malicious (however much he’s enjoying it). Claire is suitably outrage and offended with a healthy dose of “oh hell no!” And if I’d never read the book, I would have found it all to be disturbingly entertaining but executed with an attitude and explanation I could understand if not approve.

But I have read the book and know that, overall, the spanking scene lacked Claire’s deep feelings of insult and betrayal. Instead, her disgruntlement is presented as if she’s merely in a wifely snit. Never mind that she was manhandled and nearly raped at knife point by Randall only hours earlier, now the one man she trusted above all is set on whipping her bare ass with his belt. He practically has her in the same position as Randall put her on his desk. So the POV change has a greater impact than merely being a storyteller’s shift to add something fresh. Because we see it from Jamie’s perspective, Claire’s emotional and physical violations from the “spanking scene” are…diminished. And that has a ripple effect.

Reconciliation

In the book, Jamie goes to great pains to make himself vulnerable to her, a key component to their reconciliation. When Claire threatens him with the dagger, Jamie takes it from her and uses it to swear fealty to her, a profound moment as Jamie puts Claire above tradition and clan and laird and all other members of his family no matter what. In the episode, he merely states that things between them maybe should be different from what tradition has raised him to value so when Jamie immediately follows that up with his oath of fealty to Claire, it doesn’t quite feel earned. 

Losing Claire’s perspective of these events means losing the internal work Claire does to reconcile herself to what she thought she knew about who Jamie was and who he actually is. Likewise, Jamie hasn’t humbled himself to Claire and she hasn’t expressed just why she’s so hurt and angry at him. We know Jamie’s been thinking and making decisions based on what he’s seeing in the clan and between the Brothers Mackenzie and due to what happened with Laoghaire, but Claire doesn’t and this lack of insight into Claire’s emotional progression is key. We haven’t seen the growth they should have done together to add weight and consequence to that fealty. When Claire takes the dagger to him (while also in rather dominant command of his balls), it’s an oath tied into angry sex rather than one offered from an emotional commitment that defies what tradition demands a husband should do and be with his wife. And that changes the dynamic.

You Are My Home

Whatever emotional fallout may have been lost in those scenes due to the absence of Claire’s perspective is arguably made up in this beautiful scene where Jamie reveals the meaning of Claire’s wedding ring. I’m not as bent out of shape as others about the changes made to the ring’s origins and meaning. Tying it to Lallybroch gives it much more weight than some pretty Latin engraving from Catullus, romantic as that is. Jamie is an outlaw. He hasn’t slept under his own roof in years and with Horrocks’ revelation, he may never again be able to go home. Which leads to this beautiful moment.

Now, now we can see Claire’s emotions all over her face. Claire has always been adrift, first with Uncle Lamb then with the war. She was just starting to settle down to a solid marriage and family with Frank, looking at vases and considering their home, when she was swept back to the turmoil of the 18th century Scotland. Now Jamie not only offers her his home, should they ever be able to return, but grounds their renewed union on the idea that wherever they may be, home is each other.

Angry Make-up Sex

Ah. Yeah.

As fierce and vicious as the fight at the beginning, Claire and Jamie’s make up sex was–strewth–so intimate and raw, it was almost embarrassing to watch. And like the earlier fight, lines lifted from the book added to its authenticity and depth. It should’ve been corny to hear those words articulated on the screen but it really, really wasn’t.

Claire bringing a knife to a gun fight was…all right, look, it was hot. Frankly, I’m not opposed to how she wielded it either or the strategic timing of that wielding. It also stands in juxtaposition to the spanking scene too. It’s Claire now who is mixing pain and pleasure to drive home to Jamie the extent of his offense against her and just how serious she is about what will happen should he do it again. She’s drawing a line at what she will and won’t tolerate from him. He concedes–he’s hardly going to object given he basically said the same thing minutes earlier. Their resultant lovemaking is passionate and fierce. They’ve said the words, now they consecrate them physically, literally pounding out their reformed connection on each other. This is their reckoning, a fight for dominance both only win by yielding bodies and souls to the other.”I am your Master and you are mine. Seems I canna possess your soul without losing my own.”

Not if you’re doing it right, lad, no.

And boy, did they (overall) get The Reckoning right.

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by Madeline Iva

Have you ever watched the grim television procedural show CRIMINAL MINDS? For those of you out there who are turned on by learning, Dr. Reid is brain teasing catnip.

On the show he is a walking computer of history.  Not only has he read far and wide in the classics, not only does he know his poets, playwrights, and arcane urban factoids, but he kills it in the cardigan department and when seeking out possible friends, heads for the girls first.

Yes, this boy-man is not the cold analytic machine usually presented on TV.  He is all intellectual probity and vulnerable sensibility wrapped up in a model-skinny tousel-haired package.  I.e. he is sexy.  Well, sexy-ish. The kicker is when he falls in love with a woman through talking to her on the phone.  His version of foreplay is a four hour conversation. He doesn’t care what she looks like, he loves her mind first, last, and foremost.

Swoon!

If you like Dr. Reid–if you obsess a little bit over Dr. Reid–then you my friend are probably a sophophiliac–someone who is sexually turned on by learning.

Is this the fascination that grips students who have affairs with their professors? After all, they say your biggest sexual organ is your brain. (This illicit pairing is second in popularity only to doctors boinking nurses.) We’ve talked about the evolutionary advantage of smart guys on the blog before.  Mating with smart men means having smart babies–right? Well, to a degree.  Smart men presumably have access to plentiful resources and in their geeky-shy social ineptitude perhaps are less likely to stray.

All of these criteria are stereotypes, however.  It’s possible for the smart man to be unemployed, for the genius to be socially savvy, for the man who has studied physics to be a playa and a cad.  I’ve learned the hard way never to make assumptions about guys blessed with brains.

Not to look your typical cranially gifted in the mouth, but it seems to me that the best part of being with a smart guy is he can keep up with your own intellectual powers of conversation. Alas, academics are often only interested in their one small area of research, and only want to talk with others in their field about that topic.  Give me your polymath instead, your intellectually open and curious fellow — give me your Dr. Reid, in fact–any day over a narrow-minded academic.

An original thinker will have interesting things to say about the world around you — and life will never be boring as a result.  Meanwhile, observe the competitive nature of brainiacs.  Academics are often as ruthlessly competitive at sports as they are in their departments.  Compensating much?

Unfortunately, Dr. Reid is often subjected to the competitive ill-will of his team, a kind of mild bullying by the anti-intellectual elements on the show.  The show also indulges in some needless intellectual snobbery–throwing around the idea that someone with endless intellectual curiosity is a freak, that someone precocious is inexperienced in carnal matters, and a genius is often beyond the reach of mere mortals–who are deemed contemptible in return.

On the internet there are tons of naughty fan fiction stories devoted to Dr. Reid. They love him so much they kinda want to squeeze him to death.

While on the show he is a power lifter when it comes to intellectual reasoning, he is also portrayed as innocent of experience–perhaps even a virgin.  They show him at one point charming a woman with slight-of-hand skills and at other points he is able to spin his own duplicitous web when needed to catch a killer.  Yet his personal pleasures involve foreign language movie festivals–sans sub-titles, or other areas where a substantial geek arcana is required.  Ultimately, one understands he experiences a lonely existence, and a kind of upside down world where normal experiences slightly torture him.

In other words…my kinda guy!

And while many of our friends are very smart–most of them are happy to put away the brains, grab a beer and just hang out.  But I submit that ‘hanging out’ is a horrid conundrum to the pure intellectual. This kind of guy wants to graze upon intense topics, rigorously chew over the details of his latest obsession, tidy his ideas, and conquer theoretical concepts for fun–because he can.  The Dr. Reid type intellectual has a mind that can go the distance 24/7.

The best part about intellectual guys I’ve known and loved is that at heart they’re turned off by bimbos. They have standards of attractiveness that have nothing to do with make-up, cleavage, or popularity. One can stand before this kind of guy and let one’s naked intellect shine.  In summation, the man who likes smart women–who needs an intelligent woman as his partner in life–is truly sexy.

So what’s your I.Q.? If you’re a smarty-pants in touch with your smexy side, follow us at Lady Smut.com. We’ll whisper inductive reasoning proofs in your ear all night long.

by Madeline Iva

The new zombie look is goth–Brilliant!

When I saw the ad for izombie, I was curious, because it looked playful and comedic-grotesque. Then I found out it was by Rob Thomas –who created Veronica Mars, so how can you go wrong there? So I started watching it on hulu and I have to say, I didn’t take a shine to the leading actress at first. She plays Liv, an uptight perfectionist goodie goodie. Blerg! But then, you see, she becomes a zombie half way through the first episode and suddenly I was liking her a lot more.

Liv experiences major fiance angst post-zombie.

Of course, even though her hair bleaches white on its own and her skin turned pale and she started wearing heavy eye liner, no one guesses anything is wrong. Why did you quit medical school Liv? Why are you eating brains? And she’s like all apathetic, “I dunno.” See, being a zombie made her terribly depressed—she had to break up with her fiancé and everything. Good riddance, I say. Didn’t like him at all. Okay, he’s very goodlooking in a towel. Other than that, he’s just another Ken doll if you ask me.

However, Liv ends up working at the morgue and suddenly – ba-bam! In walks hotness on a sensitivity stick in the form of Mr. Rahul Kohli. He plays Ravi, her fellow medical examiner.  He’s also smart–he figures out her dirty little secret. But then—it just gets better and better. Only in a sly way. First the guy who zombied her turns up – he’s David Anders, aka Sark from Alias and he is having fun, people. Therefore, he is tres fun to watch—and he’s got layers just like a magnificent onion.

What finally got me on board with the show is that a side effect of eating the brains is that Liv becomes like the people she ate. When this happens, I like watching Liv 100% more. The first time caught my by surprise—it sort of creeped in. That Rob Thomas is sly, as I said. Now I can’t wait for her to eat brains—the results are always a little random and fun.

Okay, but what really keeps me watching is the casting of hot hot HOT men. And what’s even better—it’s a multi-cultural smorgasborg of man-flesh. Let me break it down for you:

The good: Former fiancé Major (blah), Clive a detective who Liv helps to solve crimes (double blah), and Ravi (Yay!)

Why isn’t Liv hopping on your bones Ravi? Is she BLIND?

The Bad: AJ (hot!), Ryan Hansen (ditto!)

Tim Chiou was a bad guy on an episode — a hot, mouth-watering bad guy.

And my fav—

The Undead:

Blain–the zombie who seems to understand how it all works (fun, so much fun),

Blaine, you’re a bad, bad boy.

Lowell Tracey (don’t let the die job and spray tan below fool ya, he’s a zombie too!),

His name is Bradley James. And he is…awesome!

and….wait for it…Hiro Kanagawa. I noticed the police chief on the show was unusually hot – and then with just one little quick detail—we suddenly know Something Is Up with Mr. Kanagawa.

Suspiciously hot for a police chief.

Nothing to take my interest factor higher than discovering underneath the spray tan anyone could be zomb-i-licious. Talk about keeping us guessing!

Alexa Day’s head is probably spinning –she wrote something here deciding—okay, zombie-sex is not 100% totally gross.  So I wonder what she’ll think about this show. M’self, I’d do Lowell and not think twice about it.

He’s got angsty broody sad down, mixed with a little of the wry self-deprecating good stuff.

Me? I like the albino zombie-goth look, I’m a big fan. But when they hide in plain sight that’s fun too. Also in izombie they experience a tragic fate that if they go for too long without brains—they become zombie nasty. Like WALKING DEAD zombie-nasty. This gives them a ticking clock—I’m surprised they haven’t used it so far. And it gives the bad guys something to hold over them.

I also like the way they used hot pepper juice. Just flashing a bottle of super spicy stuff hiding in a drawer reveals to us that someone’s got a big secret.

Whomever cast this show deserves major props for the multicultural aspect— Elizabeth Shore asked some time ago: Where Are All The Asians? Here they are, Elizabeth!

But one woman surrounded by tons of hot men does bring up this curious rock and a hard place. I mean, is this wrong? I like a female lead. I like hot men. Put them together and I’m happy—but what about reports that Hollywood is so skewed when it comes to percentages of men and women on TV and in movies?

Take THE MINDY PROJECT. That show lost the wonderful Betsy—I mean, no explanation, she was just gone. Mindy lost her female best friend—again, no explanation, and now it’s all men men men who are her peers, with one token Lesbian woman admin over at the Hospital. I noticed it because their sub-plots tend to be male story lines involving fraternities, etc. It’s almost as if they’re scared that not appealing to men enough would doom the show OR they’re mostly male writers on the show—so this is what they know.

Hope izombie does not make the same mistake.  However whatever they do is fine by me if they just keep deepening the characters, keep layering on the complexity, and keep the surprises coming.  Just like us at Lady Smut–(please follow us to get more of the goodness 24/7.) Meanwhile, if Liv needs a zombie female bestie, then I vote for Jenny/Taylor Momsen from Gossip Girl. Can you spot the izombie in this photo?

Taylor Momsen aka Jenny on Gossip Girl — a proto-Liv.

by Kiersten Hallie Krum

I have a rule of thumb about movie/TV adaptations of books: always see the movie first

Years ago when it was new and fresh, I devoured John Grisham’s The Firm. I read it at work to the point that my supervisor put a sticky note on my desk that simply said Run, Mitch. Run! He got it.  I was so excited to see the movie adaptation with Tom Cruise as Mitch–or at least I was until I saw it. There were so many diversions from the book, it was practically a new story. It was such a letdown, I fumed for weeks.

Ever since then, I’ve resolved to never read the book first. And I successfully managed that philosophy with little effort for years, until Harry Potter spun me off the rails. I made it all the way to The Goblet of Fire without having read one book, but after that ending, I couldn’t wait to find out what happened next and consumed every book as fast as I could…and I never enjoyed a new Harry Potter movie again.

I’ve come a long way from that disappointed twentysomething and know now how different mediums have to interpret the story in different ways, sometimes because of a different vision and sometimes because of production needs. I don’t entirely understand it–if you’re buying a product for its extensive popularity and built-in audience, why would you want to change it?–but overall I get it.

But it’s not always possible to avoid reading the book first. People who read the Harry Potter or Hunger Games books from the get go didn’t know these books would one day feed a multibillion dollar movie franchises. Same deal with Outlander. Even though I came to the game later than many, I’ve still been reading the series for 20 years. I’m invested. As you may have noticed. But despite my considerable expectations, I’m not the kind of fan who has to see everything dotted and crossed as it was on the page. Honestly, that would be boring.

Saturday night, after another outstanding episode of Outlander, this idea of book vs movie hounded me for hours. Wonderful as it was, this was the first episode to make me feel a bit let down as a reader. The interpretation of Jamie, in particular, took a turn that was quite different from his journey in the book, but it fits within the story Ron D. Moore has been telling in this production as he broadens the scope of Outlander beyond Claire’s solo perspective in the book. And while the episode sometimes lacked the humor of the source material at times, beats and scenes I’ve been waiting to see, it stayed true to the emotional needs of this version of the story and overall true to the ethos of the original story.

And isn’t that what a good adaptation is supposed to do? Create something new and through that newness, offer a different avenue by which deeper truths might be examined from a new perspective. Why else do plays and musicals get revivals? Why are there so many versions of Pride & Prejudice? Because each adaptation brings out something new to enjoy. That’s what a trope does too. We love our tropes in Romancelandia–virgin widows, friends to lovers, reunited lovers, secret baby–the list goes on and on. A good romance novels (of which there are many) takes that trope and turns it on its ear and makes it something new. With a trope, we know the frame of the story we’re getting but the picture has yet to be filled in. An adaptation may have the paints and image already decided before it gets started, but how that image comes to life is going to be different every time.

What do you think? Book before movie or vice versa? Do you need an adaptation to be purely dedicated to the source material or are you open for wild and crazy interpretations?

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by Kiersten Hallie Krum

I’m calling an audible this week from the midst of dealing with family crisis of the human and feline varieties. In the meantime, read this fantastic piece by Sonia Saraiy for Slate on that special snowflake unicorn, male nudity, and rape in Outlander, or as the author puts it “A penis on TV and a surprisingly revolutionary treatment of sexual violence and male entitlement.”

“Whether or not the episode or show is perfect, what makes “Outlander” so compelling is that it makes a space for moments like this—stories of sexual assault that give agency to the victims, even when something terrible is about to happen to them.”

While in this case, the male nudity was part and parcel of the attempted rape, that same episode also gave us this.

And this:

Courtesy of @UnpaidPrivKilt

You’re welcome.

See you next week when I’ll hopefully be less feeding tubes and timed medications and absentee medical aides and more Hallooooooo Smexy!

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By Elizabeth Shore

I’m back after a week in Finland. As you may appreciate, I’m still a bit foggy. The combination of jet lag, copious amounts of vodka, and trying to get back to post-vacation daily life has left me bereft of blog post ideas. What to do? First, I ate ice cream, figuring a jolt of sugar would do the trick. Turns out that doesn’t work. Who knew. So then I trolled the internet in search of inspiration, confident I’d stumble across something that would prompt an idea. Instead what I kept coming across was just a whole lot of weird, crazy stuff. Do you remember the old Arsenio Hall show? The old one, before the other one that came afterward that sucked. He had an ongoing bit called “Things that make you go, hmmm.” Like why is some crude oil referred to as light and sweet, as if it’s used in cooking or something. Hmmm.

Anyhoo, the stuff I came across elicited sometimes a hmmm but other times more of a WTF? So in no particular order, I present for you a selection of oddities.

1. Young girls dyeing their hair grey.
I came across this article in the New York Times a few months back and it puzzled me down to my toes. Grey? Really? Yeah, really. It’s a trend so popular with some that it even has its own hashtag, #grannyhair. Some of the girls say their choice to go grey gives them a “sense of individuality.” Well, OK. I suppose there’s that. The article didn’t mention anything about the hair down there, so I’m assuming it’s just atop the head. Nonetheless, wouldn’t you want the carpet to match the drapes? Hmmm.

2. The Kylie Jenner lip challenge.
Take a shotglass, place it over your lips. Suck. Suck hard! Induce negative pressure from the suctioning and engorge all those tender little blood vessels until your your top and bottom lip resemble mirror images of uncooked bratwurst. Then take a selfie and post it on Instagram. Hilarious! If you suck long enough you can even break those little vessels and cause permanent damage. Cool beans, baby.

3. Countries that don’t kiss.
You might think that’s just an oddity among some lost world bush tribe or something, but you’d be wrong. A recently published article in American Anthropologist reveals that only 77 out of 168 studied cultures showed evidence of romantic kissing. (the study discounted familial kissing such as a mother to a child or cheek-kissing greetings as in some European countries). For those into math, that’s only 46% who like to lock lips. So, um, what do those in the other 54% of countries do when they’re trying to get their motors revved? Smell each other, maybe?

4. Covering your cat’s bum with a sparkly adornment.
Thank the stars above, someone’s out there solving the world’s problems. ‘Cause, you know, there’s nothing worse than having friends over, and like, the cat finally emerges from under the bed, and you’re all, “hey, kitty, come say hi to my friends.” And your furry lil puddin’ pads over to say hello and then, AHHH!! You can see her butthole!!! Kitty has her tail up and her back door is exposed for everyone to see. You’re mortified, right? Of course you are. But fear not! Twinkle Tush to the rescue. This essential adornment fits around Fluffy’s tail and drapes down just so in order for a round sparkly disc to discreetly cover that unsightly image. Cat lovers unite. We can all breathe easier.

5. Why anyone thinks Brody Jenner is a “sexpert.”
A few weeks ago, self-described “sexpert” Brody Jenner launched a weekly call-in show on E! called Sex with Brody. Makes sense, right? I mean, the 31-year old model and star of a couple failed reality TV shows (Bromance, The Princes of Malibu) surely has a load of “sexpertise” he can teach the world at large. Although, he recently did admit that his younger half-siblings Kylie and Kendall could “teach him a thing or two” about sex. Eeewww. Surely you didn’t mean that like it sounded, did ya, Bro? Hmmm.

There you have it. Things that make you go hmmm. Or WTF! If you want an even better reaction, follow us at Lady Smut. Our new daily posts will make you say, Cool.

I know, Alicia. I’m bored, too.

By Alexa Day

I’ve spent two weeks trying to figure out why I can’t get into Fear the Walking Dead.

I mean, I love the original TWD all to pieces. I’ve hung up on people when their phone calls threaten to overlap with those precious first few minutes of the show. I treasure my Twitter time with the rest of the viewership. My iPod is jammed with music from the show and the promos.

I worship Richonne and I do it proudly.

TWD has moved me (“It’s for you”), shocked me (“Look at the flowers”), cracked me up (“Motherdick“), and generally filled me with hope for the future of television.

So I really wanted to enjoy Fear the Walking Dead. For one thing, it was going to get me through the long, long summer hiatus until Season Six of TWD starts in October.

Looks like it’s going to be a long six weeks.

On the bright side, I’ve figured out what the trouble is. I guess there are going to be spoilers, if that matters to you.

In theory, Fear the Walking Dead should work the way Titanic worked.

I know. Bear with me.

We all went to see Titanic despite the fact that we know how the story ends. Right? I think we did that for two reasons. Either we wanted to see what James Cameron did with such a large-scale disaster from an artistic perspective, or we wondered what would become of the characters we’d come to care about. Or both. Both is another option.

Fear TWD should have similar appeal. We already know that Fear TWD‘s civil unrest and confusion will end with the zombie apocalypse. I know I started watching in the hope that the folks who brought us TWD would bring the same artistic firepower to the beginning of the end. But I also know that the only way to keep folks watching is to give us characters we care about.

Sadly, Fear TWD is falling short on both counts.

I was under the impression that Fear TWD would show us how the apocalypse started, but it’s pretty clear that the infection has taken a pretty solid hold of society before the first episode starts. We are now two episodes in, and we still don’t know what actually caused the zombie apocalypse. (My guess, though, is something to do with the flu shot.) We have no Patient Zero. We just have fewer zombies. If you spend any time on Twitter during TWD, you know that fewer zombies is not the way to hook fans.

The larger problem, though, is these characters.

TWD works so brilliantly because it’s a story about the sort of people who would never have met each other in the pre-apocalypse, each of whom has become a completely different sort of person in the aftermath of destruction. Add in the larger questions of how far people will go when faced with the collapse of their civilization. What you get is something deep and powerful — characters asking themselves and each other who they were and who they are with none of the distracting nonsense of 21st century society.

And then, of course, we get plenty of zombie-related violence on top of that. You know, just to keep things moving.

Fear TWD has given us a blended family drama. That’s right. We’re going to face the zombie apocalypse with teen angst, angry exes, and a harried mom trying to hold it all together. If someone made TWD into a Lifetime movie, this would be the result. Two hours of “Stop it! Don’t you say that to him! Because I’m your mother! Get down from there! Don’t touch him! That’s not what the custody agreement says! He’s not answering my phone calls! Just because! I hate you! You promised!”

It’s enough to make a person cheer for zombies. Yes, they are relentless undead killing machines who will cheerfully tear you into bite-sized pieces with their hands before cramming you into their decaying gullets. But they aren’t whiny, pouty bundles of high-voltage family resentment.

The worst part is that better choices are available.

During Sunday’s episode, two of our super-troubled teens are trapped indoors (Nick is going through withdrawal and his sister Alicia is in the role of Responsible Sibling/Caretaker). A moment before, we hear that the family across the street has planned a birthday party for a nine-year-old girl. We know that the little girl’s parents don’t expect anyone to come because everyone seems to be sick lately. We also know that another neighbor is looking very unwell.

What happens at the party? We don’t know.

How long did that unwell neighbor hold out before this mystery illness finally finished him? We don’t know.

How did he get into the house across the street? We don’t know.

Did the birthday girl make it? We don’t know.

Here’s what we got instead. “I don’t care! You let Mom do it! I’m going anyway! I hate you! We all know what you need!” We get to spend this part of the episode watching Nick sweat, vomit, and complain his way through withdrawal instead of actually watching the genesis of the zombie apocalypse. His sister isn’t even interested; why should the rest of us be?

Fear the walking dead? We haven’t really seen the walking dead. We did get to see a genuine L.A. police riot, but (forgive my cynicism) haven’t we kind of seen those before?

Anyway, if the next episode isn’t much more engaging, I’m going to have to find another way to wait out the summer hiatus. I didn’t sign on for a weekly dose of Anxious Moms Yelling and the Teens Who Love to Hate Them. I came to see the world shuffle slowly to a stop.

Is anyone else barely hanging on to Fear TWD at this point? Join the rant in the comments.

And follow Lady Smut for all the stuff and thangs.

Do NOT lose this lady’s Tupperware.

By Alexa Day

On Sunday, I enjoyed a long overdue reunion with some old friends. I’ve stuck with these folks through some hard times and some harder times. We’ve shared laughter and tears, and I miss them terribly when they’re not around.

That’s right. The Walking Dead is back.

Here’s your warning up front. If you haven’t seen the season six premiere, you will want to find something else to do. This post is basically wall-to-wall spoilers.

Still here? Awesome.

I don’t know if it’s absence making the heart grow fonder or what, but something about Sunday’s episode has me thinking about all the fabulous potential for shipping.

Let’s start with Richonne. Really, that’s the beginning and the end for me, right? I still think Rick and Michonne are perfectly suited for each other, for the same reasons I set out a long while ago. I don’t get what Rick sees in Jessie, a resident of the walled community in Alexandria. Jessie’s basically been preserved from the chaos that defines the reality Rick and his family have gotten used to. Personally, I think that makes Jessie a less effective long-term partnership candidate. She’s not going to know how to deal with him, and the two of them are not going to be able to parent each other’s kids. But it looks like Jessie realizes that. After shooting her husband Porchdick Pete in the face (I know, awkward, right?) and then taking his body to a desolate area where he did not intend to bury it, Rick suggested that he and Jessie should slow things down a little. I bristled at first — slowing things down indicates to me that things were moving at one point, and that isn’t what I want at all. But it looks like Jessie is starting to see that Rick isn’t going to fit in with her sheltered existence. Good thing Michonne is around.

Before last week, I’d have stopped with Richonne, my ultimate TWD ship. But the new season has me thinking about a lot of new and different things.

Sure, Jessie’s good for a moment’s distraction, dude, but who checked you out when you were all unshaven and disheveled?

Before now, for example, I was all set to see Carol paired off with unwashed-but-still-hot redneck Daryl Dixon. They’re actually very well suited for each other. They’ve seen some unspeakable things and been involved with Bad People — and that was before the zombie apocalypse. Separation from their families and their respective grieving processes have quietly drawn them together. They’re emerging from identities created by loved ones who didn’t really have their best interests at heart, and as they come out into the light together, each of them really sees the other. This is my favorite thing about romance: the way each character looks at the other and says, “I see you. I see you.” That kind of nakedness and vulnerability is going to change the game for Carol and Daryl, and I was so ready for that to happen …

Until Morgan saw Carol.

Morgan has reappeared in the story after a bit of an absence. He was one of the first people Rick encountered after awakening in the post-apocalypse world, and when they came together again, neither of them was in an optimal state of mental wellness. Now that they’re back together, Morgan’s brought a strange but refreshing world-weary optimism to Alexandria. Morgan understands the human condition all the better for being brought low by loss and isolation. In kind of a weird nod to Rick’s last encounter with him, Morgan is clear. He might be the clearest person in Alexandria just now.

Carol, for her part, has been so far undercover as one of the happy homemakers of Alexandria that it looks like she believes the charade herself. In her cardigans and florals, bearing casseroles with a broad, friendly grin, Carol hasn’t given anyone any indication that she’s the sort of woman who would blow up half a town to liberate her friends from cannibals. As far as Alexandria is concerned, Carol is a whiz with cookies and party planning, without a trace of BAMF about her. The only people who know differently are the late, unlamented Porchdick Pete, who needed to have the truth laid out for him in no uncertain terms, and Morgan, who saw right through her facade in a matter of seconds.

One look at Carol, and Morgan sees who she really is.

He sees her. He sees her.

I still think Daryl is better for Carol. But this is interesting. Isn’t it?

And what is happening with Abraham and Sasha?

Not so long ago, Sasha had lost her brother Tyreese and her lover Bob, and she responded, understandably, by pushing people away and taking unnecessary risks. She’s not done grieving by a long shot, so I can see what made her volunteer for the most visible part of Rick’s dangerous plot to protect their newfound home.

But what’s gotten into Abraham?

He’s definitely all about Rosita (I’m ashamed to say I don’t always recognize her without her booty shorts on), but he seems to be opening up to Sasha, too. He’s checking in on her. He’s curious about her feelings. He made her smile. He even told her a war story of sorts.

I raised my eyebrow when I saw all this. What’s this about?

Maybe Abraham recognizes the dark place to which Sasha’s retreated because he was there once himself. Eugene and his fabricated mission saved Abraham then. Is Abraham trying to keep Sasha from falling deeper into the abyss?

Or have I gone ship-crazy? I will admit that the summer has been tough. Scandal‘s been driving me crazy. I might just want to see someone happy.

What does it all mean? Work it out in the comments.

And follow Lady Smut. We see you.

Sorry, guys. Not even your super cute matching haircuts could save you.

By Alexa Day

This used to be my favorite time of year. Not because of the holidays. Not because of the change in the seasons.

This is the season of sweeps. I’m a TV junkie, and I used to love watching my favorite shows pull out all the stops to get my attention during this run for the ratings.

Who would become pregnant? Who has an evil twin? Would someone fall down an elevator shaft?

Anything could happen, and nothing appeals to me more as a writer than a world where anything at all can happen.

This year has been disappointing. I haven’t written TV off altogether, but my old standbys have let me down.

I was on the fence about Sleepy Hollow at the end of its second season. This season, it’s been scheduled opposite Scandal, which sends a pretty powerful message, right? I figured I had to choose between an actual (if dysfunctional) interracial relationship and the mere hope of one, so I chose Scandal. A couple of weeks in, I wondered if I’d been wrong (I’ll get to that in a second), so I took a peek at Ichabod and company during a Scandal commercial break.

During my peek, I gathered that Something Awful had happened to my second favorite lady bad-ass; Abbie had been hospitalized after a run in with the supernatural enemy of the week. Ichabod looked on, concerned, but he still manages to comfort Abbie’s sister and fellow bad-ass, Jenny.

“She’s strong,” he says. That’s right. He says Abbie’s so, so strong.

Well, so much for that, I thought. Abbie has officially crossed over from potential love interest (I know, I saw potential long after most people threw in the towel) and became Strong Black Woman. Now, I don’t necessarily have to have an interracial relationship in everything I watch, but you all know how much I hate seeing a perfectly available, perfectly compatible black woman passed over for no good reason. This was my issue with Magic Mike XXL, remember?

Why did we pass on Jake again?

I went back to Scandal, but all is not well in the land of Olitz, either.

I’m relieved to find that Jake has finally wised the hell up and stopped chasing after Liv. I figured he’d be pouty and kind of psycho for a really long time once he came to grips with the idea that Olivia would never choose him, no matter what he did for her (and to her — the man’s a machine). But Jake is done. Liv doesn’t seem to understand that, but he’s been doing a great job of moving on.

As for Olivia, she has everything she wants. The most powerful man in the world has chosen a side — and it’s hers. Everyone knows they’re together. She’s sleeping in the White House. He’s popped the question.

And true to form, Olivia is pushing him away. Again.

She keeps calling Jake, though. Big ups to him for reminding her that he is now nothing to her.

I think this is part of the Olivia Pope mystique. I don’t think she’ll be able to make a choice that makes her happy — at least not for long. I don’t know why she feels this need to deny herself happiness, but I’m worn out. I’m tired. I don’t think I have time for any more of this.

Hope, however, springs eternal.

I don’t want to delve too deeply into The Walking Dead because it deserves its own post, but I will say that I am willing to overlook Rick’s little smooch with Jessie. For the time being. I can give Rick a pass because there’s enough story elsewhere to keep me occupied (are we about to find that Glenn and Negan are in the same place?) and because, honestly, this whole Jessie thing just started. I let Ichabod ignore Abbie for two seasons before I gave up.

Anyway, still watching The Walking Dead.

I’m also returning to Satisfaction.

Put very simply, Satisfaction is the story of a man, Neil Truman, who discovers that his wife Grace has been seeing a male escort. He responds, ultimately, by becoming a male escort himself.

Satisfaction is absolutely loaded with sex, my friends. Oh my, yes. If you’re not sure your TV regimen is sexy enough, consider adding Satisfaction.

I don’t know why I let go of Satisfaction during its first season, but when I peeked at it again a couple of weeks ago, well into the current season, I found that Grace has responded to Neil’s career choices by launching a male escort business with her husband.

Grace, I salute you, madam. Nothing like a joint venture to bring two people closer together, right?

I want to admit now, publicly, that I was wrong to ditch Satisfaction. I was led astray by two other shows that I knew or had reason to know would ultimately betray and disappoint me. I’m just glad Neil and Grace and their complicated, sex-laden lives are still here for me. I hope we can all make it up to each other during a lovely Thanksgiving binge.

But what about you, fellow TV junkies? What are you getting into? What are you giving up on?

And are you following Lady Smut? We won’t jump the shark on you.

Olivia Pope in less complicated times.

By Alexa Day

Last time I was here, I used this space to do a lot of complaining about television. So many annoyances. All the grievances. Oh, yes, there was wailing and the gnashing of teeth.

I said I’d return to Satisfaction and its unorthodox take on marriage, and I will. That’s going to be important. Right now, Satisfaction might be the only thing that gives me hope that I’ll survive marriage.

But before I do that, I want to correct an oversight.

Last time I was here, I said I was ready to write off Scandal for good. The decision pained me; the show has been near and dear to my heart for a long time. But I couldn’t bear any more of the come-here-go-away with Olivia and Fitz. The two of them were driving me crazy.

I was so worn out with them that I wasn’t really paying an optimal level of attention to them and their problems during the finale, which aired shortly after my last post. I was actually in the kitchen, fooling around with something else and not looking at the TV at all, when I heard Aretha Franklin singing “Silent Night.”

I smiled to myself. I have to hand it to Shonda, I thought. She uses the best music.

And so, from the kitchen, I listened to Aretha compete with Olivia Pope’s father, ranting in his intense way about how familial intimacy is destructive. I made a mental note to look up that recording of “Silent Night,” wound up my work in the kitchen, and went back to the TV, where I continued to be annoyed with Scandal‘s entire cast of characters. When the show was over, I shook my head and asked myself whether I’d be back for the second half of the season.

And that was it.

Later that night, I got a call from my mother about Olivia Pope’s abortion.

“What abortion?” I asked.

Mom — I don’t know how she deals with me — said Olivia had gotten an abortion on Scandal and asked what I thought of how the show had handled this.

I was completely lost. Where had she heard about an abortion? This was impossible. If Olivia had gotten an abortion on screen, the whole universe would be talking about it. Perhaps Mom was confused. I loved Mellie’s Planned Parenthood filibuster and thought she deserved a fist bump. That must have been what she was talking about.

But I was wrong. While I was in the kitchen listening to Aretha’s beautiful music and Rowan Pope’s ugly words, Olivia Pope had gotten an abortion. I missed it entirely. No one mentioned it. No one drew attention to it. And when I went back to the couch, I had no idea it had taken place.

That’s impressive. That is masterfully handled.

Let us leave aside for the moment our feelings on abortion generally and focus on what has actually happened.

This woman — the most visible woman on the show, its central character — made this decision, followed through on it, and went on with her life with no involvement from the rest of us. If we had any business of our own to mind at that precise moment, as I did, we would never have known about any of this.

Olivia’s abortion had nothing to do with me. I basically blinked and missed it.

I got through most of the next day before NPR confirmed what Mom had told me. Olivia Pope had in fact had an abortion on prime time television. I was on the way to a party and had to stop and call her to tell her I was wrong. Mom — I don’t know how she deals with me — knew I was wrong; she’d actually watched the episode. Dealing with me takes immense patience.

She repeated her question. What did I think of the way it was handled?

Well, I missed the whole thing. I don’t think she’s being treated any differently. Her own world has probably changed irrevocably, but we don’t know. We spectators aren’t privy to that much of her inner life.

In essence, it isn’t any of our damned business. Her decision had literally no effect on me at all.

And I think that was communicated brilliantly.

Stick with Lady Smut. Don’t miss a thing.