So I finally watched True Blood with drift partner. All five seasons of it! (If I haven’t made it explicitly clear, in this house we do not consider seasons six and seven of True Blood to be canon. They are disastrous dumpster fires of misguided plot decisions, misogynistic crap, boring costumes, and way too much time spent wanking off Bill Compton.) I’m fully capable of acknowledging where you could find fault with this show, but damn, it does fill me with joy. I like most of the characters, even some of the guys. (This is a shoutout to Terry Bellefleur [Todd Lowe], who I admittedly totally overlooked when I started watching the show because my friends/the fandom was so intent on figuring out which man you found bangable that I zoned out on the ones I didn’t want to bang; Terry Bellefleur, I may not want to bang you but I love you and your big tender PTSD teddy bear heart!) I adore the whole aesthetic, because as I get older I realize Southern Gothic is honestly one of my favorite things. It’s remarkably well-constructed for something that most people write off as a supernatural soap opera (that’s its own essay, honestly).
And honestly? Your fave Sookie (Anna Paquin), the show’s protagonist, is autistic.
I said it.
Full story here.