GO WATCH THIS SHOW, HONESTLY IT IS SO AMAZING.
IF THIS POST CREATES 1 NEW PUSHING DAISIES FAN MY LIFE = MADE.
Alright let me help out then:
1) Most of the cast is female. In fact only two main characters are male.
2) Both male characters take typically non-masculine hobbies. Emerson Cod knits almost non-stop and makes pop-up books. Ned is literally called “The Pie-Maker” because he bakes homestyle pies from his mother’s method. Both are shown to be very nurturing and even maternal characters. Conversely, the women? A pair of professional travelling show performers that have gritty sexual scandals the way men usually get (see the entire “Chuck’s father” storylines), a beekeeper who is the single most positive and optimistic character imaginable, and a former professional jockey- Three of four pro athletes.
3) You could very easily make the claim Ned is asexual.
4) Yes, the storyline is about romance. But it’s also about the positive side of a love story, and their only drama lies in overcoming their inability to actually share contact.
5) A very good friend of mine recommended this show to me as “Disney for adults.” I told her it was already on my list to watch because “It’s by Bryan Fuller, from Wonderfalls and Dead Like Me.” Bryan Fuller is now most known for “Hannibal.” The same camera methods and bright colours and lighting techniques Hannibal is known for? Perfected in this show, just using a different tone- The same colour methods in reverse, upping the vivid greens and yellows instead of reds and blues, which sells emotion both ways.
7) Probably one of the best examples of a modern day fairy tale possible.
8) Narrated by Jim Dale- The narrator for the HP audio books.
I don’t know if anyone’s already added links to this, but all of these here work and if you hover over the links, an episode description shows :)
i drew rose in my shirt yeah
I PUT THE HOUSECAT OUTSIDE FOR TWO GODDAMN MINUTES AS A JOKE AND HE COMES RUNNING IN WITH A SNAKE IN HIS MOUTH
OH SHIT THE SNAKE IS STILL ALIVE
THE SNAKE HAS GONE INTO THE LAUNDRY ROOM AND IM ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS
SNAKE HAS BEEN RELEASED IN THE NEIGHBORS YARD IN A PANICKED, THROWING MOTION
"Fucking put me outside again, bitch. See what happens." -My Asshole Cat
a 100% accurate map of north america as drawn by a canadian
i always see those ‘weird things writers have to look up’ posts and figured they were joking but
I get it now
Hermann finds the latest note tucked under the windowsill and sighs, trying to maintain some level or exasperation- if only for his own strength of will- he should throw it away, but- as always, his fingers seem to ahve their own thoughts on the matter and the note is open before he is really aware of it-
Hey Herms, the magnolias are coming up well, aren’t they? I managed to get a few cuttings to replace those white roses that died last year. Hope it doesn’t rain again!
Hugs and kisses xxxxx
Hermann moves his chair over to the window and twitches the curtain just enough to peer out. Newt is bent over the sadly empty flowerbed where his roses use to grow, scent so rich it filled the house, swept over Hermann and tooking, if only for a few moments, out of himself-
For now though, his eyes are drawn away from the roots going into the earth and the little white buds nodding over the freshly tilled earth, up to the strained white shirt over Newt’s shoulders, the curl of his biceps as he works, the comfortable swell of his backside in his worn out, muddy jeans-
Hermann grits his teeth and pulls away, pulling the curtain closed with more force than is warrented- why is he doing this- why didn’t he send this man away the moment he looked out and saw him- is it not enough to live like this- alone, never going out- without torturing himself like this-
The crash of thunder breaks him out of his reverie; it looks as though Newt’s hope for no rain is about to be in vain. Hermann rolls his chair to the door and hesitates- five years ago, he would have opened it, invited the gardener inside, but now-
The rain will be here in a moment, and Newt does not live nearby, but to let him in, to allow someone in his house- allow someone to see him, after so long-
A flash of light no vivid it’s visible even through the curtains, less than a split-second later there is a scream like the sky tearing in two- the storm is directly above them- that bolt must have hit the church spire and Hermann knows enough to know no one should be out in this;
Without letting his mind consider it any further, he open the door.
The sky is bruise-mottled, purple and green and alive with thunder and flashes of sheet lighting; Newt is frozen in the rose beds, eyes fixed on the sky and hair starting to stand up-
"Get inside now!" Hermann’s vocie is thin and feeble in his own ears, but somehow Newt hears him, he turns, eyes wide, and its impossible to tell which is the worse shock- the sudden storm, or seeing Hermann;
"Move!" Hermann tears his throat with the scream, just as the roof starts to crack and clatter- golf-ball chunks of ice crashing to the ground- the garden will not survive, but at least it gets Newt moving; he starts to run towards the house;
Hermann rolls out of his way as Newt races, in closing the door against the next shattering roar of thunder- the spire again, or some unfortunate tree-
Newt is panting, his shirt is soaked with sweat and sleet and melting ice, showing through multicoloured from the tattoos Hermann religiously mapped over the months; the curve of his pectorals, defined after months of work, the solid mass of his arms, the soft roundness of his belly pressing multicoloured and taut against the translucent fabric of the shirt; Newt blinks, and his eyes settle on Hermann.
Hermann fights against the urge to turn away, cover his face and not let himself be seen- the twisted ruin of his hip, the scars from that horrific car accident mapping over his left arm, mottling pink across his face; Hermann drags his eyes off the ground, forces himself to meet Newt’s eyes;
It’s so hard to do this, after so much mockery and pity and hate and disgust, but he manages it;
Newt does not look mocking, disgusted, and there is no pity or hate in his eyes; he’s smiling, as though seeing Hermann was every birthday and Christmas rolled into one, looks him over as though Hermann is something wonderful, something he’d never dared to believe he would have;
"Hey," Newt’s voice is soft, and he takes a step closer to Hermann, "Thank you,"
"I couldn’t leave you out there," Hermann bristles,
"Not for that," Newt steps even closes, kneels down until they are face to face, his eyes bright behind his muddy glasses, his smile brighter than the lightning, his fingers touches the puckered, marred skin of Hermann’s hand, he glances down, then up again, "Not for that."