#&&. promo ( they belong among the stars )
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blue, alien hedgehogs still count as people, right?
                    i think so, too. ...i think.
independent and selective multimuses featuring tom ( written by @storybounded ) and maddie ( written by @starsweepers ) wachowski from the s.onic the hedgehog cinematic franchise.
#&&. promo ( they belong among the stars )#&&. self promo#idk i wanted to make gifs#turned them into a dual promo i guess LMAO#nothing fancy or special just cute#i'm only so graphically talented#also i started to get annoyed with ps so i just wanted to be done LMAO
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A Curse [Chapter 3: Flower District]
Series summary: You are an aspiring actress. Aegon is a washed-up and disenchanted agentâŠat least until he sees something special in you. But within paradisical seaside Los Angeles you find terrible dangers and temptations, secrets and lies. Maybe Aegonâs right; maybe the City of Angels really is a curse.
Chapter warnings: Language, mentions of sexual content (18+ readers only), age-gap relationship, entertainment industry misogyny, some body dissatisfaction/dysmorphia, medical stuff, a creepy dude, a special surprise is found in Aegon's office!!!
Word count:Â 6.2k
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Tagging: @lauraneedstochill @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @neithriddle @ecstaticactus, more in comments! đ„°
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You sleep in late and wake to the sound of excited voices out in the kitchen. When you follow them, you find Baela using a pink Click ân Flame utility lighter to ignite the candles on a sloppily but lovingly homemade cake, Pillsbury Funfetti according to the blue box left upturned on the countertop, lumpy white icing dotted with multicolored sprinkles. Jace must be responsible. You panic, thinking that you have forgotten a birthday, but no: you quickly recall that Baela is a Sagittarius and Jace isâsomewhat improbablyâa Capricorn.
âWhat are we celebrating?â you ask.
Baela looks up from the cake, the candlelight luminescence radiant on her face. She is beaming, she is glowing, she is definitely meant to be an actress. She shines too brightly to belong anywhere but among the stars. âI got the part.â
âWhich part?â
âThe one in the new Yorgos Lanthimos movie!â
âNo way!â you shout, and you rush over to hug her; but already there is a sinking feeling that you are dimly aware of through the rush, and when the revelry is over you will lie in bed alone with these thoughts, treasonous yet true: When will it be my turn? Why canât this happen to me? âThatâs so exciting! Iâm so happy for you!â
âItâs about the French Revolution,â Baela says when you pull away, still grinning hugely. âIâm getting third billing, my name will be on the promo posters! Iâm flying to Paris for filming next month!â
âWow.â Your smile is frozen on your face. âWow, wow, wow, I canât believe it. This is so awesome!â
Then Baela realizes how it must feel for you, and she is sympathetic, rubbing your shoulder as her expression twists into something soft and bashful. âBut hey, your luck is turning around too!â
âYeah,â Jace says. âYou got to be in Episode 5,000 of Greyâs Anatomy.â Baela gives him a reproachful glare. âWhat?â he asks, clueless.
âNo, itâs totally cool,â you insist. âIâm really, really thrilled for you, Baela. You have to take a million pictures in Paris so I can see all the architecture and desserts and hot French dudes!â
Jace snorts. âAre French dudes even hot?â He sounds skeptical.
âYou can be my date to the premiere,â Baela tells you. Jace gapes at her, incredulous. âWe can pose together on the red carpet and you can do some networking! Maybe Yorgos will even like you and cast you in his next project!â
But something about the way she says it makes the prospect sound ludicrous, fantastical, fictional. Baelaâs breakthrough is reality, yours is unicorns and mermaids and the Loch Ness Monster. âYou are so wonderful, but you should take Jace.â
âYeah, you should take Jace,â Jace says.
Baela pulls a knife out of the bamboo block on the kitchen counter. Her parents bought it, like they bought almost everything else in the apartment; they believe in her, lots of people do. âDo you want some cake? Whenâs your appointment?â The appointment you didnât cancel, contrary to Aegonâs explicit instructions. Technically, you never agreed to, so you havenât lied to him. That makes you feel better. Baela glances at the calendar and reads the time written there in red ink. âOh good, not until noon. You definitely have time for cake!â
âBabe, you gotta blow out your candles first,â Jace says. Baela closes her eyes, becomes still and serene, extinguishes the tiny golden flickers of light with one delicate puff. Then she begins cutting the Funfetti cake. You get three forks from the silverware drawer. Jace hands you a plate from the cabinet as he complains about having to go to class today: Music Aesthetics, Analysis, and Philosophy.
âJust a little one, please,â you tell Baela. A moment later, she plops a skinny slice of cake onto your plate. âThanks, Becca! Wait, no, I mean Baela. Sorry.â
She laughs, still wielding a knife covered in white frosting. âWhoâs Becca?â
âAegonâs fiancĂ©e.â
âOh, your agentâs future wife? The agent that you are definitely not into at all?â
âYeah, that one, you got it.â You give her a wink and take a bite of cake: frosting so sweet it hurts your teeth, tiny kaleidoscopic flecks of candy like gold in a stream.
~~~~~~~~~~
âSo, which one are you liking the feel of?â Dr. Cunningham asks, smiling in a way that is effervescent and yet impersonal, vaguely impatient, a real estate agent type of charisma. He must be in his mid-fifties, and yet his face is nearly entirely purged of wrinkles, smooth and shiny and evenly tanned. His teeth are too perfect to not be veneers. People keep suggesting those to you too; you need more time to wrap your mind around the idea of having your canines and incisors shaved down to helpless nubs.
âUmâŠâ You go down the line again, squeezing all three samples that are arranged on the stainless steel utility table that Dr. Cunningham wheeled over to you. âI walked in wanting the gummy bear implants, and I think I feel the same way now.â
âExcellent!â he says, wearing that same smile. His eyes, very blue, never change; they are alert yet vacuous, like the fatal error screen on a Windows computer.
âAnd theyâre safer, arenât they? The gummy bear ones?â
âStatistically, yes,â Dr. Cunningham agrees, somewhat briskly, as if he is eager to change the subject. âBut I wouldnât worry about that. I hardly ever see ruptures in any of my patients.â
Hardly ever, not never. âThatâs good!â you say spiritedly, like a star pupil.
âAs I mentioned earlier, they are a bit more expensive than the other options, but we have several financing options available.â
âMy parents are paying, so no worries there.â
âFantastic.â Heâs still smiling. You kind of wish he would stop. âYou want to be an actress, I assume?â
âI do, yeah! Howâd you know?â
He chuckles as he rolls the small metal table away. âThatâs what all the girls are doing out here, right? And if itâs not acting, itâs singing, or modelling, orâŠwhat do you call that, when you make money on TikTok or wherever?â
âBeing an influencer.â
âRight,â Dr. Cunningham says. âWell, I wish you the very best of luck.â Itâs chivalrous but hollow, an echo of the encouragement heâs given to thousands of women just like you, except probably more beautiful and more talented and actually getting some of the parts they audition for.
I got a part, you think, and your mood lifts a bit. Aegon finally found me one. And he believes Iâll get more.
âIs it okay if I take a look?â the ever-smiling Dr. Cunningham says, and your heart begins to pound beneath the gown youâre wearing, scratchy white polyester-blend fabric that opens in the front. But this is all standard procedure, and you knew to expect an exam, and you should not feel like youâre lining up for the firing squad.
âOf course!â you exclaim too enthusiastically; your voice cracks. You undo the tie down by your waist and the fabric across your chest and belly goes slack. Your tan TOMS wedges are scattered on the linoleum floor thatâs supposed to look like wood. The sundress you wore to the appointment, patterned with large sunlit palm leaves, is folded on a chair. Your eyeshadow matches: matte green Thorns by Anastasia Beverly Hills, sparkly gold Whisper by Natasha Denona.
As Dr. Cunningham opens your gown and begins the exam, you stare at a framed print of Venice Beach on the wall, and you pretend you are there under the hot glaring daylight instead of here in a frigidly air-conditioned office being prodded and manipulated, measured not to be admired or understood but only to be improved upon.
Dr. Cunningham is saying: âJust so youâre aware, due to how firm a gummy bear implant is, we typically have to make a slightly larger incision in order to insert it. Saline and traditional silicone implants, being more flexible, can be squeezed in through a smaller opening, for example using a transaxillary incision in the underarm. But theyâre also more prone to wrinkling and rippling, and they must be replaced more frequently, so that pliability comes at a cost. I think gummy bear implants are a very good choice for you.â
âAndâŠwhere exactly would the incision be?â Your heartbeat is still thunderous; you can hear the scorching red blood flow throbbing in your ears. Dr. Cunningham either doesnât notice or doesnât mention it.
âWeâd go in right here,â he says, skimming his gloved fingers just beneath your left breast, your raw heart just two inches away. Goosebumps prickle on your arms. âItâs what we call an inframammary incision, and it gives us more room to work with to ensure the implant is placed properly, andâŠâ
He loses his train of thought, interrupted by a commotion out in the lobby. Through the closed exam room door, you can hear people arguing and then something being spilledâthe jar of pens on the receptionistâs desk? the glass bowl of mints?âand heavy sprinting footsteps. Dr. Cunningham pulls his hands away and you snatch your gown shut just as the door bursts open, and Aegon stands there breathing heavily from the exertion, hair in disarray, white Nike Killshots with a red slash of a Swoosh, dark jeans, salmon-colored t-shirt thatâs too big for him, tan sport coat jacket yanked off of his shoulders. His attacker, the elderly receptionist, has chased him to the doorway.
âWhat the hell is wrong with you?!â sheâs shrieking. She smacks him with a massive leather purse. âYou canât just go barging in on patients! What are you, some kind of druggie? We donât keep any opioids in this office!â
Dr. Cunningham yells: âWill you call the police, Barbara?!â
âNo wait, I know him,â you say, and both Dr. Cunningham and the receptionist stare hostilely at you. You ignore them and look at Aegon instead, stunned. âHi.â
He straightens his jacket. His eyes, that dark and turbulent blue, are fixed on your face as you hastily retie your gown so it stays shut. âHi. What the fuck are you doing?â
âItâs just a consultation.â
âFor a surgery youâre not going to have?â
You shake your head in disbelief. âHow did you know I was here?â
âI just had this feeling you werenât going to cancel,â Aegon says. âSo I went to your apartment and you werenât home, but your roommate told me where you were and gave me the address that you wrote on the calendar.â
âOh.â
âSheâs very nice. Your roommate, I mean.â
âYeah, Baelaâs cool.â
âShe offered me a piece of Funfetti cake.â
âDid you take it?â
âNo. I was in a hurry to get here.â
âRight.â You remain seated on the edge of the exam table with your hands clasped together in your lap. The receptionist and Dr. Cunninghamâs bewildered gazes fly between you and the intruder.
Aegon sighs and nods towards the hallway that leads out to the lobby and the front door of the office. âCome on,â he says gently. âGet dressed. Letâs go.â
âI canât,â you reply.
âWhy not?â
You donât answer; your eyes dart to the print of Venice Beach on the wall and stay there as they begin to water. Aegon crosses the roomâthe receptionist and Dr. Cunningham shuffle around the cramped space to keep away from himâand stops when he is standing right in front of you, his hands in the pockets of his rumpled tan jacket.
âWhy not?â Aegon asks again, very softly now.
You look at him. Your voice is a quivering whisper. âI donât want to have to give this up.â The city, the potential, the dream.
âHey,â Aegon murmurs, leaning in close. You can smell the ocean and sunlight and Juicy Fruit gum. Strands of blonde hair, ripped from the sheen of gel, shag over his forehead. âYouâre bright as hell just the way you are. You donât need surgery to be an actress. I wouldnât lie to you.â
And immediately, you are ready to leave. âOkay.â
âOkay?â
âYeah.â You wriggle down off of the exam table, check your gown to make sure youâre still covered, and turn to Dr. Cunningham. âI guess Iâm not interested anymore.â
âPlease never set foot in my office again,â he says.
âNo problem,â Aegon snaps. And then to you: âIâll meet you outside. Weâll get lunch.â
âSure,â you reply, still a little dazed.
Aegon hurries out of the exam room before the police are summoned. Dr. Cunningham and the receptionist leave too, muttering to each other and casting you appalled glares. When you are alone, you throw off the gown and put on your bra, wedges, and sundressâŠand as you are smoothing the creases from the soft cotton patterned with palm leaves, you smile to yourself, kind pink heat swirling in your cheeks.
Aegon is in the parking lot and leaning against his white Chrysler Sebring convertible. He has put on his black aviator sunglasses to blot out the intense afternoon sun. Dr. Cunninghamâs office is on a busy street in Beverly Hills; you can hear car horns, pedestrians shouting into their cellphones, toy dogs yapping, Shape Of You chiming from a passing Mercedes. Across the street is a series of shops in a row, Starbucks and Neiman Marcus and Gucci. Aegon says, pointing to your 2003 Honda Accord: âIâll drive you back to get your car later.â
âOkay. Where are we going?â
âChinatown,â he says, opening the passengerâs door of his Sebring. âAnd from now on, you listen when I tell you to do something, just like you said you would.â
âIâll be your best client ever,â you promise, climbing into the car. The top is down, the wind blowing in from the Pacific Ocean to the west.
âIâm here for a reason. Itâs not to be ignored. I can be your advocate, but you have to be honest with me.â
âI completely understand. I wonât mislead you again.â
âThe Greyâs Anatomy people really liked you, by the way.â
The hope unfurls across your face like dawn over the earth. âReally?â
Aegon gives you a teasing, crooked grin. âDonât pretend youâre shocked.â He shuts the car door, jogs over to the driverâs side, drives east through thick midday traffic.
At the same restaurant you went to the day you met, seated beside the same large fish tank, you and Aegon place the same orders: moo goo gai pan, boneless spare ribs. The waitress, Lanying, asks Aegon about how his siblings are doing before she speeds off to tend to her other customers.
Aegon watches the malevolent ember-colored oscars for a while, then taps his paper Chinese zodiac calendar, rimmed in red and gold. âWhich one are you?â
You laugh, thinking heâs joking. âYou already know.â
But Aegon doesnât smile; he only stares at you blankly. âWhat?â
âI told you about my zodiac sign. The first time we had lunch here.â
And he looks at you as if his skull is as clear as the transluscent blue-tinged water of the fish tank, all the lights on but nobody home, and for a split second you almost feel as if you donât recognize him, as if he is a stranger wearing Aegonâs windswept blonde hair and ill-fitting clothes and the crowâs feet around his eyes. Then Aegon repossesses himself and he is flippant, casual. âOh yeah, right. Totally. I remember now.â
But you have the sense that he doesnât. You try to hide how much this wounds you. It must not have been memorable. It must not have meant anything to him. âIâm a dragon!â you say brightly, and hold up your hands as if they are claws, opening and closing your hooked fingers.
Now he does smile, a little preoccupied, a little forced. âOf course you are.â
You scan the calendar. âWhat year was Becca born?â
âUhâŠ1994, I think.â
âSheâs a dog,â you say. You read the description silently to yourself as the tea and wonton soups are brought to the table: Loyal and honest, you work well with others. Generous yet stubborn and often selfish. Look to the horse or tiger. Watch out for dragons.
~~~~~~~~~~
You arrive at Aegonâs office twenty minutes early, mostly because you miss him. Itâs Wednesday, June 25th, and you park your Honda on the narrow sloping street and step out into 80-degree sunlight, ambient dog barking, powerlines crossing overhead. A lady walking her chihuahua waves at you and adjusts her sunglasses. Window air conditioning units whir. The trees, ginkgos and pink trumpets and Victorian boxes and palms, are still in the bright breezeless afternoon. The skyline of Downtown is a mirage on the horizon. From the barber shop across the street, you can hear a radio playing Bailamos by Enrique Iglesias.
When you clop into the lobby in your TOMS wedges, you see that Aegonâs door is closed. At his desk, Brandon is on the landline phone and jotting notes down in his planner, his flower pen scribbling rapidly across pink paper. When he spots you, he covers the phone speaker with his hand. âHey girl!â
âSorry, I know Iâm early. Is he busy with another client?â
âNo, go on in!â Brandon reaches down to dig around in the minifridge and sets a Perrier on the ledge of his desk. You take it, thank him, and go to Aegonâs door. You are puzzled to hear people talking on the other side, muffled indistinct voices. You wear an ocean blue sundress and cool metallic shades on your eyelids: Shellshock by Urban Decay, Strike by Natasha Denona. You open the door.
Aegon has his Nike Killshots up on his untidy desk and is playing the Nintendo 64. Mario is running through what appears to be some sort of underground maze, foggy and strewn with gold coins. The greenish haze must be toxic. Marioâs Power Meter is slowly ticking down; each time Mario snags a coin, it is partially restored. Aegon is watching the screen as he talks to a woman whose back is turned to you: tall, willowy, long dark hair. They donât realize youâre here.
Aegon is saying as he clicks the transluscent orange Nintendo 64 controller: âThatâs great, babe.â
âAnd the charity thing is on July 19th. I got a custom suit from Tom Ford, itâs powder blue, all you have to do is show up to the fitting.â
He sighs euphorically. âYouâre the best.â
She giggles. âI know.â
Then Aegon notices you, and for a moment he seems shakenânot in a good wayâand for some reason you feel like youâve made some horrible mistake. The woman spins around to see what heâs looking at. She is stunning and ethereal and wearing a plain sack dress that hangs perfectly on her, a young Cher, and she smiles at you, kind and dazzling.
âHi!â you say. âIâm so sorry, I didnât mean to interrupt. Iâm a little early, I mixed up my appointment time because Iâm an idiot.â
âNo, youâre fine,â Aegon replies, but heâs still distracted. Mario suffocates in the maze and drops over dead. Aegon turns off the game. He clears his throat. âUh, this is Becca.â
You shake her hand when she offers it. Gold bangle bracelets jangle on her wrist. âItâs so nice to meet you, Becca!â
âAnd you must be the new client!â she says warmly. âThe one fromâŠwhere was it, Michigan?â
âMinnesota,â you reply.
âOh, brr!â Becca says, pretending to shiver, and you laugh.
âYeah, Iâm really happy to be here. And youâre getting married soon, I hear!â
Becca beams, clapping her hands together. âYes! Iâm so excited but so stressed. The planning is endless.â
âAre you going to do it here in the city somewhere?â
âAegon didnât tell you?â Becca is perhaps a tad disappointed. âItâs a destination wedding.â
Aegon says from his desk, somewhat recovered: âTurkâŠsomething.â
âTurkey?â you say doubtfully. An interesting choice.
âTurks and Caicos,â Becca clarifies.
âNo way! My sister just got engaged there, she said it was gorgeous.â
Aegon asks you from his desk: âHave you ever been?â
âI wish. Not yet, maybe one day.â
âYouâll have to come to the wedding!â Becca says cheerfully.
âMe?!â Itâs ridiculous; youâre a nobody, you barely know her, you have a crush on her future husband.
âYeah, all of Aegonâs clients are invited. Arenât they, babe?â Becca glances at him, and then her eyes catch there and they stare at each other, Aegon slumped in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, Becca standing next to you, and there are several slow awkward seconds of silence. Aegon gets a piece of Juicy Fruit gum from a pack on his desk and shoves it into his mouth. Becca looks at you and then back to Aegon, who is pretending to organize the clutter on his desk. You notice for the first time that there is a ceramic bowl of Honeycrisp apples there.
âI thought you didnât like those,â you say to alleviate the tension that you donât understand.
âWell, Brando eats them,â Aegon explains.
âThat makes sense.â
âAnd I guess theyâre growing on me.â
âTheyâre really good for you,â you say. âHelps to balance out all the boneless spare ribs.â
Now Becca is studying you, and instead of being warm she is now cold and rigid and perplexed. After a while she asks stiffly: âWhat are you two up to today?â
âWeâre going to the Flower District,â Aegon tells her as he rolls his gum wrapper into a ball between his palms. âIâll be done in a few hours, I just have to get some current pics of her to send to people. So weâre going to do a quick impromptu photoshoot.â
Becca nods, still scrutinizing you. You open your Perrier and start gulping it so you have an excuse not to talk.
âWhatâs for dinner tonight?â Aegon asks Becca, and she perks up a bit.
âBeef bourguignon. Itâs a new recipe, Iâm really excited to try it.â
Aegon pretends to drool. âAmazing. I canât wait.â
âIâll talk to you later,â Becca says, and goes to leave.
âIt was so nice to meet you!â you call after her.
Becca replies curtly without stopping: âYup. You too.â You hear the two-inch heels of her gold sandals tapping on the scuffed wood floor and then the rough opening and closing of the front door of the half-duplex.
âWhat just happened?â you ask Aegon.
âNothing,â he says, standing from his desk. His shoes match his shirt, a green plaid Ralph Lauren button-up that isnât tucked into his jeans. His hair is slicked back and shiny with gel.
âIâm sorry, did IâŠdid I do something wrongâŠ?â
He sighs. âNo.â
You toy anxiously with your Perrier bottle. You donât want Aegon to fire you; you donât want to lose him. Heâs the only person who understands. âYou should have told me we were going to be taking pictures. I would have done my hair and worn normal eyeshadow.â
He smiles. âI wanted you to look like you.â Then he heads off to his Chrysler Sebring, and you follow him.
The Flower District is on the other side of Chinatown in Downtown Los Angeles. Itâs the largest wholesale flower market in the country, six blocks of vendors selling every plant imaginable, from ordinary daisies and tulips to bamboo shoots, ferns, herbs, cactuses, succulents, baby trees, house plants like monstera and ivy. The aroma is overwhelming; when you breathe deeply, you imagine prismatic blossoms bursting up through the alveoli of your lungs, roses and irises and calla lilies and orchids. Aegon weaves through the aisles and frowns at the magnificent flowers, none of them right for some reason. You are endlessly pausing to sniff petals and gingerly graze your fingerprints over leaves. Aegon has to backtrack to find you when you stop to watch a demonstration of a Venus flytrap being fed.
âHere we go!â Aegon announces triumphantly when at last he is satisfied, and he lifts the large bouquet from a plastic bucket for you to see: massive sunflowers, water dripping off the cut stems. âTheyâre sunny, just like you. You like them?â
âI love them,â you say, taking the bouquet and beaming. Aegon pays in cash.
Outside under the harsh cloudless sunlight, he poses you in front of one of the flower shops, pedestrians walking behind you and a rainbow myriad of blooms out of focus. He uses his phone to take a series of photos, some up-close and some full-body shots, and you had assumed it would be awkward but itâs not, Aegon is making jokes and you are laughing and trying weird angles and spinning around so the skirt of your sundress swishes despite the lack of a breeze.
âCool, got some good ones,â Aegon says, scanning through his phone. âWeâre done.â
âWhat should I do with these?â you ask about the sunflowers. âDo you want them back?â
âWhy would I want them back?â
âI donât know. You paid for them, it feels weird for me to keep them.â
âTheyâre yours. Enjoy.â
You inhale the faint floral scent that emanates from the yellow petals. âIâm going to put them in a vase on the kitchen counter and buy them flower food so they live as long as possible. And Iâm going to talk to them, because thatâs supposed to be good for plants.â
Aegon chuckles. âYou are ridiculous.â He slides his phone into the pocket of his jeans and sees an ice cream vendor up the street, then gestures for you to come with him. The ice cream is allegedly homemade and only comes in five flavors. Aegon orders for you both. âHi, one vanilla and one strawberry.â
The vendor scoops the ice cream into two waffle cones. Again, as he always does, Aegon pays in cash. You locate an available bench and you and Aegon sit together with the sunflower bouquet lying between you, watching the pedestrians stroll by with their friends and partners and children and dogs.
âTastes better when you make it,â Aegon says, licking melting strawberry ice cream from his waffle cone. âI might have another job for you.â
âReally?! Yay!â
âItâs a little unorthodox, but you said youâd take anything.â
âI definitely will.â
âItâs a music video for Maroon 5,â Aegon cautions. âItâs honestly pretty uninspiring and stupid, but itâs work. Itâs another last-minute thing, at first the girlfriend of one of the band dudes was supposed to be in the video but I guess now theyâre fighting all the time and the guy doesnât like the idea of having a permanent reminder of her if they break up, which seems likely.ââ
âI want to do it,â you say immediately. âWhen?â
âTheyâre planning to film the first week in July at a mansion in Beverly Hills. They already have a male actor cast. And you donât even have to kiss him or anything, you get to argue with him in the first scene and then the rest of it is mostly you just moping around the mansion in designer outfits. Again, itâs super unoriginal. Boy and girl have a miscommunication and split, boy regrets it afterwards, they both secretly and photogenically yearn for each other. Itâs very Edward leaving Bella in New Moon.â
âSounds fantastic! Do I get to meet Maroon 5?â
Aegon is disappointed. âAre you a fan?â
âWellâŠnot really.â You both laugh. âBut I feel like itâs always cool to meet celebrities in real life.â
âYes, you get to meet them.â
You cheer. âYou are the most talented agent ever!â You take a lick of your ice cream; itâs almost gone. You look over at Aegon, serious now. âYouâre the only person who doesnât think Iâm absolutely insane for trying to do this.â
He crunches his waffle cone with his teeth. âYour roommateâs an actress, right? She must get it.â
You shrug. âBaela is confident, and magnetic, and she wants to be famous. Sheâs very obviously meant to be in this industry, and agents and directors respond to her. But Iâm not like that. Most people donât notice me. And thatâs okay, I donât really want to be famous. I just want to be able to be a working actor and get to stay here. If Iâm not making significant progress by the end of the year, I have to choose between going back to Minnesota or being disowned and impoverished.â
Aegon watches you, thoughtful, maybe a little sad. âI like you the way you are, sunshine.â
You smile shyly at him. âThanks. I like you too.â
âAnd I donât want you to change. Itâs horrible to watch someone disappear.â He devours the rest of his waffle cone. âYou knowâŠI think helping you get to where youâre going, and making sure itâs done the right wayâŠthat will be the last good thing I ever do here.â
âYou donât have to retire.â
He shakes his head. âCircumstances change. Priorities change.â
âDo you want kids?â If Becca is in her thirties, perhaps now is the time to start planning for that.
âNo,â Aegon says, flinching. âDefinitely no kids. Youâre anti-horse, Iâm anti-kid.â
âThen whatâs the rush to leave L.A.?â
âItâs the right time.â
âNot for me.â You grin. âI just got here. You canât abandon me yet.â
âIâll make sure youâre taken care of before I go. Iâll get someone I trust to sign you.â
âBut I donât want another agent.â
âThe music video director asked to meet you before filming,â Aegon says, deflecting. âItâll be quick, just ten or fifteen minutes. Weâll swing by his office on the way back to Elysian Park.â
âOkay,â you agree. You take a makeup compact out of your Patricia Nash purse and use the mirror to make sure you donât have any ice cream on your nose or chin.
âI havenât worked with him before,â Aegon says. âBut Iâve heard very good things and obviously Iâll be there at the shoot.â
You snap your compact shut. âIâm ready. Letâs go.â
In a spacious, glass-walled office in Downtown, the director introduces himself as Dan Sacco. He is tall and broad through the shoulders and extremely welcoming, offering you drinks and snacks and asking about your hometown as Aegon stands in the corner of the room, his hands in his pockets and his eyes watchful. Two jobs in two weeks; Aegon is a miracle worker.
When you get home to your apartment, itâs empty. Baela and Jace must have gone out somewhere for dinner. You put the sunflowers in a vase and then scroll through Instagram. Aegon has posted a new story: a photo of you standing with your bouquet and smiling, not sexy or alluring or arrogant but simply happy, and he must be very knowledgeable about filters because you think you look great.
Future Hollywood Walk of Fame star recipient, Aegon has added as a caption. If you want to book her, you know where to find me. He finished with a sunflower emoji. You press the heart button in the bottom right corner of the screen to like the story. Your own heart is racing now in the best way possible, feverish and loud, intoxicated, needful, seams ready to rupture.
You look up Beccaâs Instagram, but her account is private. You send her a follow request. She doesnât accept it.
~~~~~~~~~~
The night before the shoot, there is a knock at your door. Itâs 8:30 p.m., a strange hour, not early enough for Amazon deliveries or a visit from one of Jaceâs eccentric PhD program friends, not late enough for a drunk tenant to have mistaken your apartment for their own. When you open the door, you are at first so shocked you canât place him. Then you remember where you know the hulking man in the tan suit from. Itâs Dan, the director of the music video.
âOh my God, hi!â you welcome him. You have just gotten home from Cold Stone Creamery and are still in your drab grey uniform. You always drive to and from work now, per Aegonâs insistence. You promised youâd listen, and youâre trying your best. Jace is in Baelaâs bedroom banging on his Yamaha keyboard. From the velvet orange couch in the living room where she is watching The Vampire Diaries, Baela peeks curiously over at where your visitor fills up the doorway.
Dan seems pleased by your enthusiasm. âHello again.â
âCan I help you with something? I know the shoot is tomorrow, Iâm really excited. I was about to get ready for bed so I can go to sleep early and be well-rested. Thereâs not a problem with the music video, is there? Please donât say itâs cancelled or that Iâm fired or something.â
Dan chuckles, a deep slow rumble. âNo, nothing like that. I just wanted to give you a heads up that we added a scene to the script.â He holds up a thin packet of papers held together by a single staple. âIâm not allowed to leave it in an unsecured location, so I have to take it with me when I go. But I thought you should be aware so youâre prepared when you show up to set.â
âAw, thatâs so thoughtful of you!â You take the packet and flip through it, skimming for an unfamiliar scene. âDid you get my address from Aegon? Or Brandon, his receptionist?â
âIt was in your file that they sent over,â Dan says, perhaps a bit guardedly, and before you can ask anything else you stumble upon the scene, and your stomach drops. The actressâme, you think, thatâs not some other woman, thatâs meâwill be lying in a vast empty bathtub, soaked hair, dripping skin, black lingerie, writhing and whimpering as she mourns the loss of her lover.
âUmâŠthe bathtub scene?â you squeak.
âItâs going to be so cinematic,â Dan says, his large hands painting a picture with dramatic gestures. âSunlight streaming in through a window, your skin glowing, youâve drained the tub but youâre too heartbroken to get up so youâre just sprawled there, still drenched from the bathwater. Obviously it would make more sense if you were naked, butâŠwe canât do that in a music video.â He laughs. âBut the aesthetic will be divine, like sexy mourning widow. And weâll get all kinds of shots, you crying, you angry, you pining, you flirting and beckoning the camera closer, and we can get creative, you can just kind of crawl around all over the tub and weâll see what you come up with.â
You gaze at the script until all the words vanish, imaging a room full of men watching you roll around in underwear, black lace wet and clinging to your skin, no secrets, nowhere to disappear. I canât do that. But you canât say no. âIs there going to be a woman on set toâŠyou know, toâŠlikeâŠsupervise, or, or somethingâŠ?â
âYou mean an intimacy coordinator?â
âYes, thank you, thatâs the term I was looking for.â Does Aegon know about this? He has to, right?
âWell, itâs not a sex scene,â Dan says rationally. âItâs not even a kissing scene. So we would never pay to have an intimacy coordinator around for this, itâs completely unnecessary.â
âOh.â I canât do that. I canât do that. You feel nauseous; you feel dizzy, like you might stagger if you try to move.
âLook, if youâre uncomfortable, thatâs totally cool,â Dan says. âI get it, a job like this isnât for everyone. I have a list of backups I can call, and I can find somebody elseââ
âNo!â you cry out, then give the script back to Dan and manage a smile. âNo, sorry, I was just a little confused, but I understand now. Thank you for letting me know about the new scene, and I can absolutely handle it.â
âGreat.â He grins proudly. âI knew I could count on you. See you tomorrow.â
âSee ya.â
Dan lumbers down the hallway, and you close the door when heâs out of sight. Baela asks from the couch: âWhat do they want you to do?â
You swallow noisily. âRoll around essentially naked in a bathtub.â
Baela nods; she doesnât seem alarmed. Is this normal? Are you unreasonable? âBikini?â
âLingerie.â
âWant to know a trick?â she says. âAfter you shave, run a Stridex pad over your skin. I have a container of them in the bathroom cabinet, use as many as you want. Itâll burn at first, but it kills any bacteria and prevent razor burn. No bumps or ingrown hairs!â
âThanks,â you reply weakly.
Baela squints at you. âAre you okay?â
âYeah.â A lie.
âItâs not that bad,â she says reassuringly. âI know it seems like the end of the world, but once you do a nude scene or a sex scene once, the nerves go away and itâs just another day at work. Youâll get through it. Youâll do an incredible job.â
I donât want to give up the dream. I donât want to leave Los Angeles. I donât want to leave Aegon.
âYouâre probably right,â you tell Baela, and you pretend to be fine so she wonât worry, or pity you, or be further convinced that you donât belong here.
You shower, shave, scrub your skin with stinging Stridex pads, and long after you were supposed to be asleep youâre still staring up at your bedroom ceiling, a deep blue shadowscape with no stars.
#aegon ii targaryen#aegon ii#aegon targaryen#aegon targaryen ii#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon x reader#aegon x y/n#aegon ii targaryen x reader#aegon ii x you#aegon ii x y/n#aegon ii x reader#aegon targaryen x you#hotd fic#hotd fanfic
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âamazingâŠ*laugh*âŠbeautyâŠbeautiful!âŠbountyâŠbountiful!âŠfritatasâŠI feel very luckyâ that fancy degree from NYU coming in full swing along with that thesaurus she must have gotten from one of her many favorite bookstores in Austin.
Lol! Thank you for bringing this up. I have so many thoughts that go unposted because Iâm like, ânah, thatâs too much, let that one go.â And then they stay in the drafts.
But since weâre here!! đ€Ł
Yes, watch our gal as she struggles with the basic directions and then reminds us that sheâs not on the call sheet because of any grand effort. LuckâŠnepotismâŠsame difference, right?! âI feel very lucky.â âŠso valid.
Also of note for the Extra Petty among us: Gen was an afterthought as evidenced by everyone else being filmed on set and Gen coming atcha from her car. Canât forget the bossâ wife! And Charlie would never. Big thanks to Charlie for filling her in on the frittata joke so she looks like she belongs.
Bonus points to the co-stars who gave up their social media passwords to Charlie for the sake of cross-posting the promo:

Look, I donât mean to be cynical, but if anyone knows of any other way for this âCollaboratorâ title to occur with simultaneous postings, please let me know. Iâm just here to remind you that social media managers exist and that not everything you see is 100% genuine. Somebodyâs minion could be posting terrible puns to your favâs account because thatâs his literal job.
#anti genevieve#anti influencers#itâs just so insulting to the actual actors#to pretend that Gen is a pivotal cast member like this
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in your breath (our words collide)
Pairing: Zutara
Rating: EXPLICIT
Summary:Â Loving Zuko, she notes, has always been an art. She paints their love across his skin like a canvas, love pressed into his temple and his lips, love burned into their intertwined fingers. But that's an innocent love, love meant for the eyes of others. This love, this raw, bared love they're sharing in this moment, with parted silks and gasping breaths, is something entirely different, and yet tastes just as sweet.
Notes: Hello friends, sorry for being so MIA on here- grad life is H-A-R-D. That being said, hereâs a little self promo for the smutfic I wrote for the Zutara Smut Exchange from discord. Please show this fic lots of love, and also everyone else who participated! Excerpt below.
Link:Â https://archiveofourown.org/works/26765065
He enters, soft and quiet, like a wisp of smoke. She sits, sheer silk draped over her shoulders, and his eyes are like twin embers. She shudders under his heated gaze, her body heated from his eyes alone, as he draws near. Zuko walks with a purpose, powerful, confident, and the way his skin glistens in the firelight reminds her of the southern star.
"Katara," he whispers as he settles before her. He's wearing a simple silk tunic, blood-red and tinged with gold, and as he leans down, she tastes the spiced wine that lingers on his breath. "Katara."
She smiles, touching his chin, curling her fingers over his jaw. He leans into her touch, eyes fluttering close, and his chest rumbles as he shifts closer. "It's something so surreal," she murmurs, and he opens gentle golden eyes that seem to pierce her to the core. "I can't believe-"
"I know," he murmurs, and his hand wraps around her leg. "Earlier, when you were walking down the aisle, with Sokka and your father by your side-" he chokes, and there are tears in his eyes as he leans in, "-I thought I was dreaming. Who would have ever thought we'd be where we are today?"
She remembers a time where she and Zuko were on opposing sides of a war, a time when fire and ice fought tooth and nail, all for the sake of finding their place in this world. Looking at him now, she still sees that fire child, the boy who dances among the lightning strikes, and she wonders if there was ever a chance where it wasn't her and him, at the end. Because she can't, for the life of her, imagine a life where she doesn't belong to him, and he doesn't belong to her.
Maybe because Katara and Zuko were always meant to be.
She smiles. "You were always special to me," she says, and he catches her hand, pressing the barest brush of a kiss across her knuckles. "But being able to finally-"
"I know, love, I know," he tells her fiercely, and he drops down, resting his chin against her thigh, and the brush of his scar against her skin has her trembling, heat pooling in her core. "You and me, like it was always meant to be."
"Zuko," she returns, curling a hand around the nape of his neck, reaching for the silk tie holding his hair back. His eyes don't leave hers, and he trails a hand up her arms, tantalizing and soft. His hair falls around them both like the night sky as he kneels, the silk tie falling down to the floor, and he presses a kiss to her wrist.
"You look beautiful," he tells her. His fingers twine through hers, scarred and calloused, but all hers. "Before, at the ceremony, draped in the furs of your people, I thought you were the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to her throat, and she sucks in a breath, his lips dancing across her skin like a whisper of wind. "But now, looking at you here in my- our- room, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever known." His free hand rises, reaching for her face, gracing over her cheekbones, before going for the tie that keeps her crown in check. "Firelady Katara."
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:: modern loneliness
âš prompt : android!hoseok x reader. 2205 words. drabble with a possible follow-up. itâs been 38 days since youâve last seen and interacted with a living, breathing person and youâre slowly going insane.
.
[Week 1 of lock down.]
At first, youâre optimistic.Â
Working from home comes with its own set of non-negligeable perks. Notably, no more commute time! No more squeezing in between sweaty men on the subway during rush hour just to get home. The new arrangement means that youâre no longer obliged to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to blow-dry your hair or meticulously put on makeup while stuffing a bagel into your mouth because youâre short on time.Â
On Day 1 of quarantine, you roll out of bed and donât even bother to change out of your pajamas. Itâs quite the sight. Not that you care whether or not your hair looks like a birdâs nest or if thereâs a small hole in your shirt. Youâd gladly take your flannel pants and old university sweatshirt with the coffee stain by the collar over the rigid pencil skirt and stupid obligatory heels they force you to wear to the office. Ironing? You donât know her.Â
Thatâs not to say there aren't any inconveniences but as of now, the pros outweigh the cons. For one, youâre now allowed to add as much sugar into your coffee without susciting your coworkersâ judgement. You can blast angry rap songs while finishing your reports and no one will stop you. The list goes on.Â
With all this newfound time on your hands, you have no more valid reasons to procrastinate. You start off by cleaning out the kitchen cabinets youâd been meaning to re-organize for months. Then you rearrange your wardrobe, dust off the top shelves of your bookcase that you usually skip over because no one can see them, and water the potted plants youâd been neglecting.Â
It feels great to be so productive. Your friends tell you via FaceConnect that your productivity streak wonât last long, but youâre quick to shake off their doubts.Â
âIâm a new me!â You insist when Miaâs laughter echoes around your empty apartment. âMy life is back on track. I feel like a proper adult now that Iâm not struggling so much to get everything done.â
âSure,â she humors you. âJust donât get upset when I tell you I told you so.â
.
[Day 8 of lockdown.]
Now that your apartment is cleaner than itâs ever been, you need to find other means of entertainment. According to the internet, now is the ideal time to learn a new language or acquire a new hobby, like crocheting or playing the guitar. But while it might be technically possible to learn a language, youâre definitely not an overachiever. Youâre aware of your own limits.Â
Today you try your hand at baking. To some it might not seem like a big deal. But for someone like you who solely uses the kitchen to boil ramyeon packets and chop the occasional vegetable, todayâs venture into the world of cooking is the equivalent of a quantum leap.Â
The molten lava cakes that come out of the oven 15 minutes later donât look like the picture advertised in the online recipe. They donât taste like how youâd expected, either.Â
You try not to be too disappointed with your failed attempt. After all, itâs only your first try. Dry cakes arenât that bad in comparison to the horrors that could have occurred. At least nothing is burnt and your oven is still intact. Youâll try again tomorrow with hopefully a little more success.
.
[Day 16 of lockdown.]
It turns out that baking is not for you. After numerous trials and errors you learn a few days later that you have no vacation to be a baker. You end up abandoning all attempts to acquire a new hobby and instead look for new ways to pass the time.Â
Thankfully, your home server is offering free VOD for a limited amount of time, so youâre not short on distractions. You consume around half a dozen cult movies, the kind people always reference and quote without actually watching, before you finally begin crossing TV series off your to-watch list.Â
You yawn. Itâs 9 PM on a Saturday night and youâve just finished binging the entire season of Tiger King. Itâs the third show youâve watched from start to finish since quarantine began and now youâre wondering whether you should start a fourth.Â
âWell, itâs not like I have anything better to do,â you say before a grimace crosses your face. âOh great... Now Iâm talking to myself.âÂ
That canât be a good sign, you think to yourself. How long has it been since youâve last talked to someone? You used to call your parents every day but when thereâs nothing new to report, the conversations become repetitive and dull.Â
You should call Mia. Just to see how sheâs doing.
.
[Day 24 of lockdown.]Â
YOUR WEEKLY BASKET FROM FOODCONNECT HAS ARRIVED. ALL PURCHASES WILL BE ADDED TO YOUR MONTHLY EXPENSES CARD. REMINDER THAT DUE TO THE EXCEPTIONAL CIRCUMSTANCES, CONNECT CARDS ARE ALLOWED A 5000 EXCESS OVER FIXED LIMIT. TOTAL EXCESS HAS NOT YET BEEN REACHED.
.
[Day 38 of lockdown.]Â
Youâre browsing BH, hoping to restock your vitamins. Lately youâve been feeling tired and mentally drained, despite your workload not being what it used to be. Why youâre so exhausted is a mystery youâve yet to solve. In all logic, your energy level should be at an all time high now that youâre working less and spending all your free time lounging on the couch surfing the internet.Â
According to the national health guideline, youâre supposed to be exercising an hour a day minimum in order for your body to remain in good condition. Your BODYCONNECT watch monitor beeps every hour to remind you that you havenât completed the suggested activity.Â
Ugh.Â
You press the button on the side of the watch to turn the reminder off. Itâs the fifth time youâve had to silence it today but you canât bring yourself to work up a sweat right this minute. You keep telling yourself that youâll exercise later but like all things lately, later ends up being never.Â
Come to think of it, this isnât the first time youâve caught yourself slacking off. Where did all your motivation during week 1 of lockdown go? You donât even have the strength to do ten jumping jacks anymore; itâs like your bones belong to a person three times your age - feeble and brittle and threatening to break at a momentâs notice.Â
LOW ON SEROTONIN? WEâVE GOT YOU COVERED. Flash promo over in 00:32:43! Limited offer while supplies last.
A bright yellow advertisement flashes on the top right corner of your screen. Intrigued, you follow the link without expecting much. The last thing you expect is to be brought directly to BH LABâs homepage.Â
âUm⊠I donât think I have the budget for thisâŠâ You mutter under your breath and prepare to exit out of the page.Â
Androids are usually employed by the government but the ones for sale to the general public are known to be exorbitantly expensive.Â
A message reads: EXCLUSIVE 1 HOUR PROMO, 40% OFF YOUR FIRST PURCHASE. Click here for more details. Offer valid for new customers only.Â
You pause and decide to click on the link. Looking around wonât hurt anyone, right? Itâs not like youâve decided to buy anything yet.Â
The seven Dwellers available for sale are just as good looking as you expected them to be. Their unnaturally good looks and vibrant green eyes are what makes them easy to pick out from the crowd.Â
You skim through each Dwellerâs description. It seems that apart from the physical differences like their facial features and build, they each have their own specialty and characteristics. One of the best-selling models boasts the cooking ability of a 5-star chef, which you admit sounds very tempting since your skills with a knife are pathetic enough to make Gordon Ramsey cry.Â
Another best-selling model specializes in...sex. You blink, your cheeks warming as you read over the modelâs description (the âthick, vibrating cock that guarantees an orgasm every time!â comment makes you choke on your saliva). You can understand straight away why this particular model would be so popular. All of the models are pretty, but this oneâs face doesnât look like itâs from this world. Confinement would make anyone horny, and when promised a godly sex bot equipped with a vibrating dick, wellâŠ
Too bad youâre too tired these days to even think about having âmind-blowing sex for 5 hours straight.â Having such intense intercourse would probably make you pass out on the Dwellerâs artificial cock, and thereâs no way in hell you would want someone from CONNECT to intervene after receiving distressed signals from your body monitor. That would just be embarrassing.Â
Youâre about to exit out of the page, curiosity sated, when the last model catches your eye.
SEROTONIN BOOSTER. Low on energy? Feeling sad or depressed? Need a companion?Â
This model is perfect for you! Model JHS is equipped with emotion sensors. They will fulfill your every need even when youâre not able to vocalize them. Stressed? They specialize in massages and are proficient in: Swedish massages, Aromatherapy, Shiatsu massages, Reflexology, among others.Â
Personality : This model is energetic. They are very active and therefore requires a minimum 6 hours to recharge. They are extremely tactile and will easily engage in skinship such as hugs or holding hands. They are talkative and will hold passionate conversations with you about almost any subject.Â
Likes : cleaning, working out
Dislikes : horror movies, strong smells
When reading the description, it feels theyâre talking about a person rather than an android. Youâre surprised to see that the Dwellers are programmed to have a certain personality that caters to specific needs because the only androids youâve ever come across before are the government ones, and theyâve always been stoic and devoid of any distinguishing characteristic.Â
It would be nice, you think, to have a companion. Someone you could talk to for real instead of through a pixelated hologram. As much as you enjoy your time alone, each passing day locked in your apartment makes you realize how much you long for a hug. You miss holding someone in your arms, feeling their heartbeat against your cheek and the rise and fall of their chest as they squeeze you back.Â
Model JHS looks like he could fill that vacancy. Their smile is blinding, like theyâre physically radiating sunshine through their expression alone. You donât doubt their capacity to bring positive energy into your life.Â
Before you can think twice about it youâre adding the model to your shopping cart. The site asks you if you want to pay more in order to customize them. For an additional fee, youâre able to tweak the Dwellerâs personality or modify their physical attributes to your liking. You skip over the option. For one, you donât have the funds to afford a vibrating dick enhancement and two, youâre more than satisfied with your Dweller as they are.
Itâs not until you finish supplying all your information including your Connect Card details and shipping address that you realize what a monumental purchase youâre about to make and how empty your account will be by the end of it.
You stare at the price listed at the bottom of the screen and weigh your options. Even with the 40% reduction, itâs not a negligible sum. You could buy several models of the new Birkin bag youâd been saving up for with this money.Â
Why purchase designer bags when you canât even go out and use them? a voice argues. And - uh. Fair point.Â
In any case, youâd have to stop shopping, eating out all the time and going on frivolous trips overseas. Not that you really have a choice, given the circumstances.Â
You look at the laptop screen again. Are you seriously so touch-deprived that youâre willing to fork over that much money for a live-at-home android? Really?Â
Fuck it.Â
You click on [VALIDATE PAYMENT] before rationality has time to kick in and you change your mind again. Just as the screen changes and the new page loads, you feel your heart leap to your throat but itâs too late to back out now.Â
PROCESSING ORDER âŠ
...
CONGRATULATIONS!Â
YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY ORDERED (1) DWELLER - JHS MODEL. WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR PURCHASE.Â
(!) Your order is eligible for Instant Shipping (delivered to your door in 24 hours or less).Â
(!!) Due to exception circumstances, your order might encounter delays. We are taking multiple steps to ensure the safety and hygiene of all products and shipments. For more information click here.
(!) All BH products are covered by a limited two-year warranty. Please refer to warranty details regarding your product in the Dweller E-HandBook, free for download here. Please register your product after purchase in order to qualify for future claims, returns, and support.
You expel the breath youâd been holding. Your father will throw a fit once he finds out youâve blown all your money on a bot. The criticism is warranted.
What are you even supposed to say to defend yourself? Youâve bought a Dweller on a whim while browsing for Vitamin C supplements.
Quarantine is really making you lose your goddamn mind, huh.
#blurb.txt#idk what to think of this tbh so i guess i'm just testing the waters?? if it's not too weird i'll write the rest#i really hesitated btwn jimin and hoseok dflkdjf it was a hard decision#drabble named after that lauv song
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Royal Rumble â90 Fan Picks: A Review
Last year, I graded promos of the participants in the 1990 Royal Rumble match. It was a super fun time, but weâre not done with all the early â90s goodness yet. While the pre-match promos are an excellent piece of character work, the more enlightened among us would know they werenât the only ones who went public with their thoughts on that dayâs event. If you owned the Coliseum Home Video release (which I assume would be everyone), youâd see an exclusive segment where the fans in attendance give their picks on whoâs going to win.
Needless to say, this is an utterly delightful segment. Itâs a raw, honest look into what human beings were like at the start of the â90s. Years and years from now, when weâre all dead and buried, this will be in a time capsule as one of our last vestiges to a particular time in history. Also, thankfully, itâs a glimpse into the absurd mark-dom of early â90s wrestling fans, unblemished by Internet snark and social media savvy. Their thoughts are pure and ridiculous and perfect for riffing all at once. Bless them all.
Anyway, letâs take a look and see who the masses in Orlando thought would go all the way in the Rumble 30 slappinâ years ago:
The Man in Black: We start with a fairly boring young man who thinks The Ultimate Warrior is going to win because of his strength and wrestling experience. Um, okay? About as basic and unimaginative as his opinion is his fashion sense. Entirely draped in black, could easily be mistaken for one of those goths who popped up around the mid â90s for the Undertaker. Also, whatâs up with the Canon shoulder strap? Surely he mustâve taken some photos. I want live photos to surface of Saaphire striking Queen Sherri mid-slap. I demand it.
Potential Murder Suspect: Honestly, I donât know whether to find this dude endearing or creepy. The tone of his voice says fun and flamboyant, but the eyes being covered by those massive sunglasses gives me the heebie jeebies. What are you hiding from us, my dear sir? Anyway, he says Hulk Hogan will win because of his 24-inch pythons. His next TV appearance, Iâm guessing, was on Americaâs Most Wanted.Â
Fighting Frat Bros: So next we get two guys who just came from the nearest keg party to argue over whether Hogan or Warrior will win. Iâm not sure if the producers forced them to do this to hype WrestleMania VI, but I will say you canât possibly script some frat dude saying the Warrior will win because heâs âa monster wrestler.â The pro-Hogan one of the pair argues the Hulkster will because of, you guessed it, his 24-inch pythons. People in 1990 were really fascinated with the pythons. Neither bro is the star of this bit, however. That honor instead belongs to the the clueless dude in the Bret Hart shirt behind them looking totally befuddled and seems to have wandered to the Orlando Arena by accident. What a gem.
Most Hated Woman in America: Literally all this women says is that Mr. Perfect is gonna win the Rumble to get absolutely crapped on by everyone around her. She was then presumably disowned by her family off-camera. Also, sheâs wearing a Hulkamania shirt as she says this and itâs like, um, sis, whose side are you really on? The chorus of boos is led by a tie-dye clad fellow who seems to be under the impression heâs attending a Grateful Dead concert.
Smarky Smarks: Ugh. Look at these smug little shits. You just know they get off telling all the marks about the latest Meltzer scoops from the Wrestling Observer. Give it 10 years and these would probably be the same dudes on the Net ranting about how Taka Michinoku and Dean Malenko should be main eventing WrestleMania, could wrestle The Rock out of his boots, blah blah blah. They pick Mr. Perfect to win because of course they do.
Our Lady Peace: Wait, whoâs this? Who is this sentient being arisen from hairspray and cigarette ash? She swoops in with the fervent call of IâM SORRY TO DISAGREE WITH YA that immediately swallows our smark bros whole. She asserts that Jake The Snake is going to win. This queen has rescued us from their nauseating self-satisfaction with her tried and true Jake fandom. Maâam, if youâre still bopping around south Florida somewhere, youâre a hero. Maybe you still think Jake is gonna win the Rumble, I donât know. Weâll always have this document of your good deeds to remember you by.
Bill Eadieâs #1 Fan: Easily the most random pick comes from this gentleman who, um, picks Demolition Axe because âheâs the only one that can beat Andre The Giant.â His friend appears to be on the verge of laughter. I canât tell if this is a deliberate troll job by these dudes or what. Funnily enough, I could actually see Bill Eadie with some sort of cult following amongst smart fans who knew of his extensive pre-Demolition career, but as our Rumble winner? Come on now.
Hit Girl: So this youngster picks Bret Hart because âheâs really neat and has a good chance.â This is chilling to watch. She has no idea how hard her hero will disappoint her. He will fail, having his elimination barely on-camera. Her world view will become jaded. Years later, she will enact revenge on him and orchestrate the Montreal Screwjob. If youâre looking for the real mastermind behind it all, look no further. Vince was just the fall guy.
Shady Lady: This woman, who appears to have stolen Gorilla Monsoonâs glasses, predicts Roddy Piper is gonna win because âheâs got great legs, even if he does wear a skirt.â Weâll need to unpack this. First off, I really want to know how Piperâs gorgeous gams will lead him to victory, although if he came there to chew gum and kick some ass, the legs may help him out with that. Then, in the second bit of that statement, she suddenly turns heel. Even if he does wear a skirt? Is that shade? Did she take notes from Bobby Heenan? To go from thirsting after Hot Rod to dragging him in a single promo is some legend shit. The Attitude Era began right here.
Silver Fox: Wait, so this guy clearly works at the arena, right? Look at how heâs dressed. Thereâs a name tag there but, alas, the Orlando sun leaves me unable to read it. Anyway, he thinks âJimmy Superflyâ is gonna win because âhe is the best.â And then he does a hilariously pathetic Jimmy Snuka impersonation, which I can only assume was so awful that he was fired from his Orlando Arena job later that day.
Pretty Fly for a White Guy: This guy never stops to catch his breath at any point during this bit. It kinda stresses me out. He thinks Randy Savage will win because the Royal Rumble is named after royalty and the only king is Savage himself. Clever reasoning, my dude! He then holds up a piece of abstract art resembling a sign. Itâs supposed to depict Sherri, but we only get Sherriâs eyes looking directly into our souls. Fans in the early â90s were avant-guard trailblazers in their own way.
Saaphireâs #1 Fan: This child picks Dusty Rhodes to win because âheâs got a really good manager.â That manager, as if I need to remind you, is Saaphire, who isnât a manager and is actually a crazed Dusty fan who was picked from relative obscurity. Itâs so easy to mock this, but I appreciate the pure innocence in his answer. Plus, I like the idea that Saaphire has this amazing wrestling savvy to bring Dusty to the winnerâs circle. Did you know that Saaphire invented the Canadian Destroyer and the Spanish Fly?
And thatâs a wrap. Woof, what a segment. They donât make âem like this anymore. So, who do you think will win this yearâs Royal Rumble? Iâm picking Demolition Axe. After all, heâs the only one that can beat Brock Lesnar.Â
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I was creeping and I saw you said you had a theory on why Harries are acting the way they are rn.... and id like to hear it lol đ
I donât know if itâs so much of a âtheoryâ as much as watching a long...excruciatingly slow...car crash happen. lol So, get comfy. Iâm going in...
If weâre all gonna be 100% real thereâs been a little pocket of toxic Harries since XFactor and they have never liked Niall. It started with posting all over social media that he was ugly...and moved right onto âhe doesnât belong in 1Dâ They drug him for looking 12 and having crooked teeth and his bleached hair...being scrawny. They hadnât even gotten off the show yet.Â
Moving on...1D went away to record and during that time Niall got braces and Directioners REALLY became a thing. Harries went a bit quiet. Because if they got salty...they had 4/5 of the fandom on their ass. Now they started low key dragging Niall (and Louis)....but sprinkled with some âhahaâ so they could say it was a joke.Â
Moving on again.....something shifted around mid to late 2013. Everyone was shipping and now a big chunk of these Harries became....Zarries. They only had to post about Harry and Zayn. If they didnât post about the other three no one noticed. They continued to be shady always framing it as âjokesâ BUT now accounts started showing up on twitter and Facebook. I remember one in particular on Facebook. I think it was called âNiall doesnât belong in 1Dâ Run by a Harrie. Charming.Â
Moving on again to 2014...Harries have a weird relationship with Zayn. They not only think that heâs the only one in Harryâs league...they also think of him as competition. When Zayn starts flaking on promo they are a little giddy...and a little brave. Theyâre the ones speculating the most and when Zayn leaves in Feb 2015 they are fully empowered.
This is when they REALLY start doing the thing. Harryâs now the âstarâ of 1D. Heâs âcarryingâ 1D. They start making âjokesâ about Harry and the Pips...Harry and âthe backup singersâ...haha. Harry and Niallâs friendship becomes a real solid thing during OTRA tour...right up till the last performance at XFactor.Â
Then we have New Years, Kendall, the boat and loads of rumors of Harry signing a recording contract...on the boat. Now Harries are empowered and we see the first REAL shade accounts and troll Harries. They are FULLY expecting Harry to be the Justin Timberlake and they are giddy.....right up until Niall drops This Town and then they drop ALL pretenses. They FULLY go after Niall. When SOTT and Self Titled drops we also see an influx of new solo Harries join the mix.Â
Now. These new Harries donât like that Harry is associated with One Direction. Itâs not cool and they are embarrassed by it. They immediately start disassociating Harry from them. The only problem is Larries and Narrys. Larries they dismiss pretty easily. They call them crazies and drag them. Narryâs arenât so easy. Most donât ACTUALLY ship them. Itâs more of a bromance thing and there is the fact that Harry was the closest with Niall especially at the end. They went golfing. They hung out outside of the band. They flew together. They rode together. The whole of 2015 was just them being really close friends....and then there was the fact that Niall was the only one Harry publicly congratulated and said that he liked their music. Niall reciprocated. Niall had to go.Â
Now we have former 1D Harries and new solo Harries aligned. NOWâS when you start to see the rewriting of history. Niall was âso meanâ to Harry. Niall was always âhangingâ on Harry. Niall was leaching off of Harry. Niall was a âpestâ and never let Harry breathe. Niall was trying to be Harry. Niall was using Harry. Then they started to believe their own shit and any new Harries were told all the history rewrites and thatâs what they believe so now they hate him too.Â
And now weâre caught up to pretty much present times. Still trying to disassociate Harry from 1D and itâs members. Still believing their made up version of history. Still trying to drag the other members down to fulfill that Justin Timberlake fantasy. Only now theyâve moved onto stans too. They stalk, troll and harass groups of stans. On twitter. On tumblr. On Instagram. Where Zayn and his stans were once a part of their âinâ crowd...now they have decided theyâre better than that too apparently. So, now heâs currently being fazed out among the majority of Harries.Â
They were sort of kept in check during 1D because they would get called out and told that âwe support all our boysâ yada yada. The One Direction mantra. But now thereâs no one to call them out. Not even the Harries that donât like their behavior. They just turn a blind eye to it and the toxic Harries now can say âIâm not a Directioner. I donât careâ and thatâs exactly what they do.Â
Thus concludes âThe History of Toxic Harriesâ lol Itâs long winded and I expect that I will have an epic fuckton of them descending on my blog to tell me off and let me know how full of shit I am. I also expect that Iâm not going to care and that the âblockâ option in my settings will be used generously and often for the remainder of the night.Â
~ The End
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WELCOME TO DAEGU !!
loading dossier on IM AREUM ââ please be sure to take a look at the checklist before venturing around town.
BASIC STUFF.
FACECLAIM: jennie kim. MUSEâS NAME: im areum PRONOUNS: she/her. GENDER: cisfemale AGE: 21
PERSONALITY.
POSITIVE TRAITS: loyal, caring, and dedicated NEGATIVE TRAITS: detached and closed off MUSE AESTHETICS: hands covered in rings, staring at the stars, and meditation QUOTE: but this, me, is the best that i could do with what i had to work with.
BACKGROUND. tw: sexual assault.
Im Areum born December 25, 1997 into a wealthy family, her motherâs family owning a cosmetic brand that only become more popular with time and her mother being a major shareholder. Her father, working his way up in a pharmaceutical company which by the age of 10, he became the CEO of. Areum was the first daughter of the couple and their youngest child. She was born and raised in Busan where she spent a majority of her childhood before moving to Seoul at the age of 12.
One day, a major entertainment company was doing its rounds of their auditioning process and for no reason but admiration of these idols, she auditioned. Her parents were shocked when she told them the news of her acceptance and after much discussion they agreed she should go. They wanted their daughter to be happy and as much as it pained them to watch their little girl go they wanted her to pursue her passions.
Areum spent the next four and a half years training to debut, and at the age of 17 years old her debut was set. Promos were coming out of her in the group, she had participated in predebut activities (being on variety shows, singing shows and even taking a few roles in web dramas). (the sexual assault tw will be in this paragraph, if a sensitive subject please skip to the fourth paragraph) Her debut date was set, endless nights were spent practicing until one night a higher up within the company had managed to find her alone practicing by herself. The older man sexually assaulted her, easily overpowering the girl who tried to scream and fight her way out of it.
(END OF TRIGGER WARNING)
For a week, she disappeared which caused panic within the company before reappearing, only to meet with the CEO of the company. They worked out a deal that what happened would stay private and go unreported as long as he let her out of her contract and got that person fired and black balled from the industry. Two days later, she moved back home to Busan causing a stir within the media. What happened that suddenly Areum dropped out on the edge of the debut?
For a year, she was quietly tutored at home, only occasionally leaving the house and walking among the streets. Her parents wanted to do more, get the law involved but there had been no way to prove what happened so they focused on their daughter and trying to help her heal and move on. For a year, Areum slowly began to heal and move forward before feeling comfortable to start a new.
At 18, she moved to Daegu and began studying at Yeungnam University, double majoring in Arts & Design and Media & Communication. After her first year, she began to work at a small boutique in the center of Daegu where sheâs worked ever since.
INTERVIEW.
1. what do you do for a living??
"Iâm a full time student who works part time at a popular boutique in downtown Daegu.â
2. how and where do you see yourself being in 5 years??
âCareer wise, I hope to have launched my clothing line and work full time on it. Financially, I donât really care about how much I make, as long as I can make ends meet independently. My family comes from money and my parents have put shares in my name in both of their companies, so there will always be some flow of money no matter what. However, I donât want to rely on that, I want to show my parents that I can be successful all on my own. As for a relationship, I hope that Iâll be in a steady one by 26 but Iâm not set on it. Iâll still be young and, to me, itâs more about finding the right person and taking my time over rushing something and being unhappy with the end results. Finally, connections wise, I hope to be in contact and on good terms with my family and friends. While, also forming new connections both platonic ones and ones that relate to my business and work life.â
3. where do you fall on daeguâs societal hierarchy spectrum??
Technically, I belong to the upper class in Busan, but prefer to live a more humble life in Daegu. I can see life from both sides, but Iâm definitely privileged and Iâm aware that I am. I have no sense of pride in the hierarchy, but Iâm not quite sure how to go about making a change, thatâs why I prefer to live my life as someone from a middle class family.â
4. how do you feel about where you personally fit in the social hierarchy of the town and what are your intentions because of this??
âAgain, I has no pride in the hierarchical system nor do I enjoy the privilege I have from it. As much as Iâm upset and frustrated at such a system, I donât know how to go about and change it. One person canât dismantle such a massive system by themselves and even if I could, where do I start? So, I live in it, go to marches and support legislature or movements that will help create equality, but Iâm not a leader by any means.â
5. what are your goals and aspirations for the future??
"My goals in life are (1) to launch my own clothing line and become successful in that field, (2) to be happy as much as humanly possible and (3) to spread happiness to the people around me.â
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sometimes the impossible can become POSSIBLE... if youâre AWESOME.
amber && kylie. roleplaying these two since 2014. various other tied together muses including other canons and ocs.
#&&. self promo#&&. promo ( they belong among the stars )#it's not the most amazing thing but amber and i#needed a new dual promo for these blogs#scott and cat && xayah and rakan got them so LOL
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âA shock to rival all shocks! Good? Or evil?â (South Korean marketing post 2)
@sleemo
Link to the post, on the official Star Wars Korea blog here.
[Watch the TV spot embedded at the top of the page before proceeding; itâs not very different from another one we got so far, and thereâs no new footage, but the text below describes and analyzes the spot in some detail.]
The TV spot opens with the Millennium Falcon. This lil guy is the poster child for the original trilogy, and also the symbol for the sequel trilogyâs theme, âthe collaboration between the past and the presentâ. Come to think of it, in âThe Force Awakensâ, Reyâs primary role was to assemble the main players of the past: she met Han and Chewie aboard the Millennium Falcon, found Lukeâs lightsaber, and reunited with Princess Leia, C3PO, and R2-D2. Only Luke himself wasnât present. But Rey set out to find the owner of the lightsaber, and Luke made his grand appearance in the finale. In the trailer for âThe Last Jediâ, we see her handing the saber to its original owner.
In this TV spot, Luke meets yet another old friend, the Falcon. Unlike in the trailer for TFA, however, when Han was laughing aboard the Falcon, the setting feels much more somber. Luke seems to be mourning the loss of his friend, while also seemingly blaming the one responsible for the familyâs tragedy.
Letâs look back on who Luke Skywalker is. Luke is the son of Anakin Skywalker, the main character of the prequel trilogy, and in the OT, he prevails over his father, who is now Darth Vader, and even beats the Emperor himself, ending the war. If Luke were to step up now, the conflict between the First Order and the Resistance might be solved.
He is a great Jedi, who defeated the Dark Force with his own Light Force. But he is also the child of Anakin, who fell to the Dark Side and became Vader. Even his nephew, Ben Solo (Kylo Ren) is succumbing to the Dark Side. Luke himself was not immune to the waves of hate and anger he felt as he battled his father. At the time, he managed to keep his integrity as a Jedi, but he must have felt the temptation of the Dark Side his whole life. Maybe that temptation isnât over yet. That the lightsaber Rey delivers to Luke originally belonged to Anakin is a reminder of the familyâs destiny.
âLet the past die. Itâs the only to become what you were meant to be.â Kylo Renâs words. We canât be sure if theyâre addressed to Rey, or to himself. He wields a great Force but is not quite a skilled villain, nor is he completely good. In this sequel trilogy, Kylo Renâs growth story will take center stage. His back-and-forth interactions with Rey will make the two of them grow into their rivalry.
Snoke, the pinnacle of evil, said âDarkness rises, and light to meet it.â This is of course also about Rey and Kylo, but whether it is of their apparent good and evil, or their inner struggles, will determine the course of the rest of the series. And Rey finds herself struggling with her identity. We, the audience, are very curious about her identity as well. Did she hear something from Luke that she didnât understand, or something she didnât want to hear? Will Rey take Kyloâs outstretched hand and look into the Dark Side?
Kylo Ren is from a blessed heritage, one that descended from the past trilogies, but is destroying his own roots. Rey, on the other hand, is bringing the past to the present. So we might predict that Rey is descended from someone who was the main player in a past tragedy, or someone who was cast out [/isolated, the meaning is a bit vague here].
The final scenes from our TV spot foreshadow a shocking scene. Luke is on the ground, shouting, âThis is not going to go the way you think!â Then, Rey seemingly raises her saber at Luke. Is this real? Rey, attacking Luke? Is our last Jedi going to be betrayed by both Rey and Kylo Ren? Is she being controlled by Snoke?
The main poster for TLJ arranges the cast of characters in differing sizes and in a symmetrical shape. It looks a bit like the one for Thor: Ragnarok, but this feels more classic and melancholic.
The biggest character in the poster is, of course, Luke Skywalker, the titular Last Jedi. He stands at the apex of all the other conflicting characters. Everyone is under his influence. Rey and Kylo Ren are two of his apprentices, but in the poster they stand back to back, and as enemies.
Carrie Fisher, whose role as Leia in this film is her last, is at the very center. A fitting placement to honor one who has passed. She is, after all, also the general of the Resistance. There is a strong light cast upon Leiaâs face--the left is the side of the Light, and the right, the Dark.
Around Leia, the 4 younger main characters of the ST are placed in an X formation. At first glance, it seems the left is the good side, and the right is the bad side. Itâs quite worrying that Poe Dameron is placed just under Kylo Ren. You might interpret that as Rey, Finn and Poe closing in around Kylo Ren, but that seems like a bit of a stretch. Perhaps we might have to steel ourselves for a betrayal from Poe.
[some more description of the Praetorian Guards and Phasma]
Under Chewbacca, we see Rose Tico. Sheâs played by an Asian actress named Kelly Marie Tran, and is a mechanic for the Resistance. With the main character Rey as a woman and Finn as a black man, we saw some diversity among the cast. Now, thereâs an Asian woman added to the mix. She features quite prominently in various TLJ promo material, so she must be quite important.
But we donât see Snoke, leader of the FO, on this poster. Maybe itâs a marketing strategy to not show us the Big Bad so soon, but we could also interpret it as Snoke not being the main villain.
Then who will replace Snoke as the face of evil? Is it a new character? Benicio del Toro will appear as a mysterious character called DJ; will he make a surprise entrance at the theatre after months of being under wraps? Or is it someone already on the poster? Whoever it is, they must be skilled in the Force, and should be in an important position on the poster. Perhaps the identity of the villain might be the movieâs big plot twist.
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all the posts collating reactions to The Empire Strikes Back or writing mock Rotten Tomatoes reviews to imply that the criticisms of this film arenât worth paying attention to are justâŠso missing the point
exactly two works that said what âStar Warsâ was existed at the time of Empireâs release in 1980: Star Wars (not yet renamed âA New Hopeâ) and Alan Dean Fosterâs 'Splinter of the Mindâs Eyeïżœïżœ (a sequel written in case Star Wars was a flop that could be filmed on a shoestring budget and without Harrison Ford. Itâs Wild and puts the lie to the idea that Lucas had any idea where the Skywalker story was going; highly recommend)
in the year of our Lord 2017, The Last Jedi was released as the third film in a revival of a six film, single creative vision franchise, with the added baggage of over two decades of novels, comics, video games, and other media (the only thing ever fully expelled from canon was the infamous holiday special, which, honestly, had greater creative merit than some of the stuff that got to stay)
whatâs the point? Expectations. No, not people who didnât want anything to change and are Mad About It or whatever facile narrative the authors of those blog posts and reviews are using to explain why this film is probably more divisive than the goddamn prequels. The problem is that not only does The Last Jedi clash with decades of fandom, it is even at loggerheads with its sister films in this particular revival. and it doesnât get the same benefit of the doubt that ESB got because thatâs not how franchises and fandoms actually work. you donât get to ignore everything that came before to tell your own story. they have to work together.Â
Sure, not everybody read the EU (and trust me some of them are better off for it). But almost everybody saw The Force Awakens, most of them saw Rogue One, and a fair number of them, old and young fans alike, eagerly consumed the New EU content that offered glimpses into how the events of The Force Awakens came about and what mysteries were set up in what was effectively a reboot rather than a sequel. Generally, you know, regardless of how much you hate 'puzzleboxes,â it is reasonable to expect that what one film sets up will have a payoff in the next, particularly when the first film takes such care to be sensitive to what the fans want (as JJ and Kasden did with TFA) - because while this is a money faucet for Disney, sure, thereâs no point in bringing this franchise back without those fans (and of course, their kids) - and what they got from Rian and the Lucasfilm story team wasâŠa confirmation that they had been wasting their time. Itâs all well and good to pull the rug out from under the audience (as this film does incessantly) but itâs cynical bullshit to basically bait them with promo material and the preceding canon and then to deliver on basically nothing and expect everyone to just be okay with it. This film effectively penalizes the people who cared the most and spent the most time engaging with The Force Awakens and rewards people who may not have really been here for what Lucas was selling to begin with. As one review put it, it âdoes not care what you think about Star Warsâ.
But when you set expectations as deliberately as Kennedy and the Lucasfilm Story Group did in JJ and Kasdenâs TFA, itâs not great writing to blow them to pieces mid-narrative. Itâs just lazy. the idea that Rey has no connection to the Skywalker line? a good idea, potentially, but clumsily executed, as it is played out less as an important revelation and more an excuse to not actually give any kind of answer to how Rey came to be Benâs equal on the Light (or why she even is âLightâ honestly; I love Angry Rey but thereâs seemingly no danger in her temptation) or where she got a skill set rivaled in this franchise only by literal Space Jesus Anakin Skywalker. Snoke is a one-noted villain; having him be betrayed by Kylo in the midst of his own villain arc? a very good idea. it belongs as the climax of the film, not the end of act 2 so there is no time for anything to breathe, just more never-ending crises and hardship.
Like, spare me the 'force visions are unreliableâ (Reyâs was unlike anything we had seen before, it wasnât Anakinâs nightmare or Luke on Dagobah) bs; the film didnât say that what Rey saw was wrong for x reason, it just pretended that it never happened and Rey didnât say anything about it); spare me âour heroes have to fail and sometimes all the plans donât work outâ we know that, we live in the real world of 2017 but while making your clever point you have wasted the presence of three extremely talented actors of color, and let down the audiences waiting for a chance to see people who look like them be the heroes for once. instead it turns out they didnât actually matter all that much, but maybe next film!Â
Itâs not clever. Itâs not visionary. Itâs cheap, itâs cowardly, and it isnât actually that original because the film leaves us exactly where we expected. Poe is the leader and Leiaâs heir to command, Finn is a newly-committed Rebel brimming with unrealized potential, Rey is a Jedi character (amorphously defined) who we know exactly as much about as we started, Luke is gone, even if he went out in pretty spectacular fashion, Carrieâs death means that Leia will be leaving us soon, and Kyle Ben has become the big bad. Thatâs the only real development - Snokeâs death and Benâs rejection of his redemption - and itâs buried under Rey, our erstwhile heroine, being a vehicle for the villainâs character development. The only character this film particularly cares about is a white fascist who gets every chance to be redeemed and rejects them while the film expects us to keep caring.Â
So, yeah. People are mad. Not because of the same âthe series is changed forever nowâ shit that the haters of ESB were on about. Because the real changes? Ben being the real villain, the smallfolk of the galaxy being the source of light and conduits of the Force? I donât see anyone complaining all that hard about them.Â
the complaints are about the damage done to beloved characters forâŠnot all that much of a payoff. the misuse and marginalization of the characters of color. the disdain with which the script treats the nostalgia of the Force Awakens. the unrelenting pace of the film that just grinds the Resistance (and the audience) down and just tells them to trust us, even as more and more and more is taken away. Reyâs parentage isnât the only thing cast aside - promises of developments in Finnâs story - his identity, his potential to cause a revolt in the First Order, even his force sensitivity (you want a force user from nothing? how about a child soldier from a nameless family who as we are continually reminded used to be on sanitation crew) - are broken. Rey has her dream of family taken awayâŠand replaced withâŠwell the film doesnât really bother to say because sheâs a plot device for most of act 3. We donât get to see her reject Ren and leave him. Because this isnât her story; itâs his. Kylo is unconscious, so the scene is over. Tell me how that is a satisfying arc for our erstwhile protagonist? Poeâs character is completely uprooted from what weâve seen before to make him an obnoxious hotheaded menace whose emotions threaten the survival of the Resistance if two old white women arenât able to keep him in check. Rose says a lot and gets to do almost nothing. LukeâŠLuke is torn down to justify the fall of Ben Solo, never given the chance to establish a meaningful bond with his erstwhile successor, and is only given the chance to atone by acting as a diversion to give the others time to escape. he dies alone, a failure, even if he is at peace with how things turned out.
last year we were shown a movie in the wake of one of the more traumatic political events in the life of the people on this website where a diverse and sympathetic cast fight hard and are entirely wiped out. But their deaths come in a spectacular and charged finale that carries the desperation and grief and pathos through into the beginning of the story we know and love. it all feels worth something. Rogue One has its flaws as a film but it comes together in a way that The Last Jedi does not. In the end, what Jyn and Cassian and the others do is just enough to get the plans away, to start the sequence of events that will lead to the Empireâs destruction.
Here?
thereâs just not enough left. not enough of the Resistance, not enough story, not enough hope.Â
to have that hope repeatedly stripped away and cynically exploited through a narrative that drags the characters from crisis to crisis without bothering to justify itself or its role in the story (while retreading the highlights of Episodes V and VI without the emotional depth to back them up), and in so doing wears down the audience as much as the characters is not why I have devoted so much of my life and emotional energy to this series about space wizards and their galaxy-destroying family squabbles and eventual chance for redemption. for all his many, many faults, George Lucas understood that.
you canât just talk about hope. sooner or later you have to see it. You have to feel that what you are suffering will be worth it. The text needs to tell you as much. itâs clumsy and cliched and it is necessary. In the Empire Strikes Back, after Han is captured and Luke is beaten, the turning point is Lando. Lando changes the course of the movie, rescuing Leia and Chewie, who rescue Luke. They live to fight another day, and at the end they are wounded but among friends.Â
the moment in The Last Jedi where that could have happened was when Leiaâs signal went out. How terrific would it have been if after being betrayed by a scoundrel the original scoundrel with a heart of gold, Lando Calrissian, arrives at the head of a fleet made up of all the alien races so inexplicably missing from the sequel trilogy so far, fending off the First Order long enough for the Resistance to escape with most of the survivors on Crait?
But Rian had to have one last twist of the knife. so nobody came. only Luke, and only as a distraction to buy time that ultimately cost him his life and reduced his legacy to giving everything to atone for his past sins. there is no Lando moment. there is no turning point, no moment where a larger victory is hinted at. and no, a single stable boy far, far away from the war is not the same thing. It makes an interesting point about the force and the metanarrative of Star Wars. It is not what this film needed after everything it put its characters and audience through.
and so at the end Iâm not hopeful. Iâm just tired. So, very tired. And I miss what made me fall in love with this series about space wizards and the Skywalker family in the first place
#martinus watches the last jedi#the last jedi spoilers#tlj spoilers#tlj negativity#rian does not love star wars like I love star wars#I'm just so. tired.#I need to watch Rebels or ROTJ and remember Star Wars can be like fun
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Mehmet Quotes In English || Mehmetcik Kutul Amare || Kutul Zafer Quotes In English

IntroductionÂ
Mehmetcik Kutul Amare  || Kutul Zafer
This drama has been made on the special order of Tayyip Erdogan ⊠Its importance and lively scenes can be gauged from the fact that when its first promo was released, Tayyip Erdogan was overwhelmed while watching it.
âŠâŠâŠâŠâŠâŠ
This drama is about the time when the Ottoman Empire was in decline and the hungry infidels on all sides fell on it ⊠It was the burning time of 1916 and the Great War ⊠And that fascist power belonged to Britain and the British ⊠They were fully prepared to overthrow the Khilafah and attacked the Ottoman Empire from all sides âŠ. The first attack in this regard was on Istanbul through Chanak Fort And then the scope of the war was extended to the Middle East Arabian Peninsula.
by that time! The Turksâ highest priority was to somehow invade the holy sites of the Holy Hijaz, the shrines of the Ahl al-Bayt and Sahaba in Iraq, and the brutal British invasion of the ancient Muslim city of Baghdad (where the shrines of Imam Abu Hanifa and Sheikh Abdul Qadir Jilani are located). The purpose was to protect the Islamic lands that had been the symbol of the greatness of Muslims and Islam since the time of the Holy Prophet.
Mmehmetçik Kut'ĂŒl Amare Quotes || Kutul Zafer || Mehmet Quotes In English

 mehmetcik kutul amare quotes in english
01:â The heart of a soldier is bigger than the common Man, Because it is difficult to keep the homeland in the heart.â
Bir askerin kalbi sıradan insandan daha bĂŒyĂŒktĂŒr, Ă§ĂŒnkĂŒ vatanı kalbinde tutmak zordur.
mehmetcik kutul amare
02:âWhat inspires a patient is the power of his heartâ - Hasro Pehlwan
âBir hastaya ilham veren Ćey kalbinin gĂŒcĂŒdĂŒrâ - Hasro Pehlwan

 Ghazi Anwar Pasha Quotes
03:â War is Also Fought in Minds.âGhazi Anwar Pasha
âSavaĆ Akıllarda da Yapılır.âGhazi Anwar PaĆa
Ghazi Anwar Pasha LifeÂ
04:Â âInstead of fighting among ourselves, we must protect our land, our religion and our dignity.â
âKendi aramızda savaĆmak yerine, topraÄımızı, dinimizi ve haysiyetimizi korumalıyız.â

 mehmetcik kutul amare in urdu
05:â These are our dreams that have kept the Islamic World.â
Bunlar Ä°slam DĂŒnyasını koruyan hayallerimiz. â
Related Quotes:
01: 100 Ertugrul Ghazi Quotes in English
02: Top50+ Ertugrul Quotes In UrduÂ
03: Suleyman Shah Quotes From Ertugrul
06:âWhere there is faith there is possibility"
âÄ°nancın olduÄu yerde olasılık vardırâ

kutul Amare Quotes
07:â The pain of my homeland is my greatest Pain.âMehmetâŠ
Anavatanımın acısı benim en bĂŒyĂŒk Acım. â
Mehmet âŠ
Mehmet Quotes In English
08:" The victory belongs to Allah that He is the Possessor of Absolute Power  "With our blood and faith we will kindle the fire of the enemyâ - Mehmet
âZafer Mutlak GĂŒcĂŒn Sahibi Olan Allah'a Aittirâ Kanımız ve inancımızla dĂŒĆmanın ateĆini yakacaÄız â- Mehmet
Sulaiman Al Askari Quotes
09:"Our tyrant! Now is the time to tremble because these voices are the footsteps of freedom.â - Sulaiman Askari
âZalimlerimiz! Ćimdi titremenin zamanı geldi Ă§ĂŒnkĂŒ bu sesler özgĂŒrlĂŒÄĂŒn ayak izleri.â - SĂŒleyman Askari
 Mehmetcik kutul Amare Drama
10:âDefeat is not that you lose on the battlefield, but defeat is that you lose your faith and belief - Scaplo Ali
"Yenilgi, savaĆ alanında kaybetmemeniz deÄil, yenilgi ise inancınızı ve inancınızı kaybetmenizdir - Scaplo Ali
Best Inspirational Quotes
11:Â "One Mehmat has been martyred, but a thousand Mehmats will be born! Our blood will be the hope of life in this countryâ - Commander Ali Scaplo
âBir Mehmat Ćehit oldu, ama bin Mehmat doÄacak! Kanımız bu ĂŒlkede yaĆamın umudu olacakâ - Komutan Ali Scaplo
Sulaiman AskariÂ
12:âThese are our dreams that have kept the Islamic world steadfast so far Sulaiman Askari Pasha
War is also fought in minds!
Bunlar Ä°slam dĂŒnyasını bugĂŒne kadar sabit tutan hayallerimiz SĂŒleyman Askari PaĆa
SavaĆ akıllarda da yapılır
Motivational Quotes
13:Â "There is no room for despair in our hearts!â Sulaiman Askari
âKalbimizde umutsuzluÄa yer yok!â SĂŒleyman Askari
 Mehmetçik Kut'ĂŒl Amare Series
Kot al-Amara is a town in eastern Iraq where the Ottoman Turks inflicted a humiliating defeat on Britain in 1916 ⊠According to British historian Christopher, this was Britainâs greatest defeat in World War. Lost a large number of its soldiers and generals This feat was performed only by a handful of Turks whose hearts were full of faith âŠ.. and these Turks proved that by faith the worldâs greatest Great power can also be defeated
This army was led by General Khalil Pasha and this victory was achieved through a special organization (Ottoman Secret Service-Agency).
Due to this war, Britain became very confused and extended the scope of the battlefield to secret conspiracies âDivide and Ruleâ
 Shia Sunni and Arab and non-Arab riots in the Middle East tribes will be set on fire (a prominent role played by âMr. Percy Coxâ) after which the Arabs revolted against the Ottoman Empire,If the Arab tribes revolt If not, maybe the outcome of the World War would have been in Turkeyâs favor and the world map would be different today.
This series is about the conditions of the time, the brutality and oppressive colonialism of the British, the traitorous chiefs of the Arab tribes, the Arabs believing in the Islamic Brotherhood, the jihadist soldiers of the Turkish forces, and the brave commanders full of intelligence. presents such a living character that the spirit of faith in the corners of the heart and soul is awakened
His Making and Scenes are of very high and international quality and his music is touching to the strings of the heart the lovely acting of his characters has surpassed even the actors of Dirillis Ertugrul,
The most important thing in the series is curiosity each episode makes you very curious the characters get stuck in a situation from which it is impossible to escape alive but on the basis of faith instincts they The teeth are so sour that he is left staggeringÂ
The most important point of this series is âFaith and Hopeâ that no matter what the circumstances, no matter how much the whole world turns against you, you have never let the flag of Islam, truth and justice be lowered until the sky. The sun rises until the stars twinkle at night, which means there is still hope,
âFinal_Wordsâ
If you like the post do not forget to share on social media. Thanks for your visit. Keep visiting our site for more and more fresh content,Â
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i canât believe that people are actually saying roman felt out of place or like he didnât belong or didnât try hard enough to put himself at the focus of that segment with joe and brock. he literally tried to kill a man the night before. he didnât need to say anything more than he did. his character work was fucking brilliant there, like it has been recently. heâs so smug and above all the petty squabbling going on in the ring. thatâs roman reigns: a fucking badass who says exactly what he needs to say with his actions. by retiring the undertaker, by almost murdering the monster among men. and what he did say was the absolute truth and 100% effective (just like his five-word promo of the year on the raw after wrestlemania). roman reigns is a fucking star and savage and one tough son of a bitch, and he doesnât need to shout or get in anyoneâs face to prove it.
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Quentin Tarantinoâs Once Upon A Time In Hollywood: not entirely the all-out misogynistic gore-fest I had been expecting!
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When Quentin Tarantino was a young man, he had dreams, as young men do. These are among the things that Quentin Tarantino dreamed:
That he would kick Bruce Leeâs ass;
That he would save Sharon Tateâs ass;
That he would have a pitbull that would bite people on the ass (also the nuts);
That he would share a âmomentââan extended one, actuallyâwith an insanely precocious eight-year-old girl, like that Eloise of the Plaza girl or maybe that EsmĂ© girl in that Salinger story;1
That he would have maybe murdered someone (like his wife, just for example);
That he would beat the crap out of some dames; and
That he would be a bottom.
Tarantino reveals his dreams in a meticulously tricked out mĂ©lange of fake reality, real reality, fake dreams and reals ones, all basking in the warm California sun that shines over the capital of dreams, fake and real, Hollywood, California, the place that makes Oz seem normal. Tarantino subjects us to an elaborate collage of fake and real film clips, fake ads for fake tv shows, fake promos for fake tv shows, fake versions of real tv shows, fake movies, real movies, even fantasy versions of real films, in the service of four separate story lines, all set, naturally, to a carefully honed and seriously swinging sixties soundtrack, much of it heard on car radios, complete with âperiodâ DJs, jingles, and ads.2 But despite all the artifice, once the narrative gets going, the whole story is very simple, despite all the detours, which generally come off as self-indulgent and sentimental, since Tarantino is self-indulgent and sentimentalâexcept when it comes to dames.
Iâm sure that the idea for Once Upon A Time must have been kicking around in Tarantinoâs head for years, if not decades, but the filmâs basic vibe still seems heavily influenced by James Francoâs recent semi-classic The Disaster Artist, the now-legendary tale of Tommy Wiseau and Greg Sestero,3 two star-struck shaggy-dog scooby-doo dudes adrift and a-dreaminâ in the LA LA Land shark tank who escape eating only because they arenât worth the consumption. Tarantinoâs leads, Leonardo DiCaprio as âRick Daltonâ and Brad Pitt as âCliff Boothâ, are a little bit further up the food chain. Once upon a time, Rick was a star, with a big house and the whole schmear, the star of the TV western Bounty Law that finished its run in 1963. Six years later, heâs still got the big house, but the career is flagging. In fact, heâs so down on his luck his posse consists exclusively of his main man/stunt man Cliff, who chauffeurs Rick around (because, of course, Rick lost his license), listens to his frequent tales of woe, and tries, ever so gently, to keep him on the straight and narrow, while always assuring him that heâs still the Man, and always will be.
We first pick up on Rick and Cliff, the first two strands of our story, via what strikes me as an, well, insanely unnecessary deviceâa black and white TV âfeaturetteâ on Bounty Law when the show was still running, featuring both men, in which Rick explains to the folks at home just what a stunt man is and why theyâre so necessaryâas if audiences in 2019 need to know this. The Bounty Law stuff is intercut with the third threadâa Pan Am jet arriving in LAX bearing a pair of obvious big shots, a short dude and a tall blonde who stride through the place surrounded by a crowd of paparazzi before transferring to a cute little vintage MG TF, whose 1250 cc engine bellows like a Ferrari 12 cylinder sans muffler4 when they hit the freeway.
After the black and white clip ends we catch up with Rick and Cliff in real life as Cliff drives Rick to a lunch meeting with agent Marvin Schwarz (Al Pacino, actinâ all Jewish on our ass and clearly having a ball), both Rick and Cliff enjoying lushly photographed mixed drinks in the grand tradition of Hollywood eye-openers while they wait for Marvin to show. When Marvin does, Rick introduces him to Cliff, âexplainingâ that his car is in the shop, so Cliff is filling in as his wheel man. âA good friend!â exclaims Marvin. âI try,â says Cliff.
Marvin and Rick have a sitdown and Marvin does a lot of talking, his spiel giving us more backstory on Rick, and it ainât pretty. After Bounty Law died, Rick made a few movies (Tarantino naturally shows us some clips, including one of Rick incinerating some Nazis with a flamethrower) that died at the box office, and we even see a âkinescopeâ of Rick singing a fifties oldie, âThe Green Doorâ, on Hullabaloo.5 Now heâs reduced to appearing as a âguest starâ on other TV westerns, the villain du jour whose job is to be plugged by the real leading man. âFace it, Rick,â Schwarz tells him. âYouâre in the rear-view mirror in this town, fading to black. Italyâs the place, and spaghetti westerns are the future! Give me the word and Iâll make it happen! But give me your decision soon, âcause I ainât gettingâ any younger, and, more to the point, neither are you!â5
Rick staggers out into a California sun that ainât so much warm as scalding, throwing himself bodily into Cliffâs arms. Iâm fucked, motherfucker! Fucked! Iâm a fucked-up fucking former cowboy star who ainât worth a damn! Italy, for Christâs sake! Italy! Fuckinâ Italy! Thatâs all Iâm goddamn good for any more! Goddamn fucking Italy!
Gently, Cliff talks him down, as he clearly does once or twice a week. Take it easy, big guy. Youâre still the man. Youâre still the man! And so they head out in Rickâs Caddy, Cliff at the wheel, a classic case of LA co-dependency, a West Coast version of Joe Buck and Ratso Rizzo, two guys chasinâ that dream, that dream that donât seem to be getting all that closer, but, well, when youâre headinâ down La Cienega6 in a sweet Caddy, rockinâ those sweet sixties tunes, it still seems like it could come true.
As they pass down La Cienega, or wherever they are, they pass a bunch of dumpster-divinâ hippie chicks, setting up what will be the fourth strand of the story. After that, well, it seems that time passes, because all of a sudden itâs gettinâ dark, and Cliff takes the Caddy up a winding private drive, dropping Rick off at his big house, giving Rick a chance to fill us in on some more exposition. You know the secret of LA? Real estate, my man, real estate! Own, donât rent! Then you belong here. Right on cue, the MG we saw earlier rumbles up the drive. Itâs Rickâs neighbor, who, unlike Rick, has a gated entrance. See what I mean! You know who that is? Roman fucking Polanski, thatâs all! Hottest director in Hollywood! What did I just say? What did I just say? In this town, youâre just one pool party away from the big time!. Cliff nods, as if he hasnât heard all this a dozen times before, and then lectures Rick on the need for punctuality, for like tomorrowâ â7:15! 7:15 out the door! 7:15 in the carââbefore taking off in his sweet ride, a Karmann Ghia, which, by the sound, also seems to have had a Ferrari implant, replacing its stock four-cylinder VW mill with a V-12.7
Cliff blasts down the mountain-side in total LA bad boy mode, top down, hair ripplinâ in the wind, and heavy tunes blastinâ on the radio. Fuckinâ LA, man, fuckinâ LA! This is how we roll!
Well, this is how Cliff rolls until he gets out of the car, because LA is all about the wheels. Cliff doesnât live in the canyon. He lives in the serious low-rent district (that is to say, Van Nuys), in a trailer, with both a pumping oil well and a drive-in movie theater to create a little noise pollution, which he combats, once heâs inside, with a black and white tv featuring Bob Goulet belting out âMacArthur Parkâ! The horror, man, the goddamn horror!
But he does have some company, in the form of âBrandyâ, perhaps the worldâs best-trained pitbull.8 To let us know that weâre watching a Quentin Tarantino movieâwe were starting to wonderâQuentin ups the grossisity level considerably by having Cliff feed Brandy âWolf Toothâ dog food (âraccoonâ and ârat flavorâ, no less), which looks exactly like shit, letting the slop drop plop in the bowl from about waist level. Two cans of the slop, plus a pound or two of kibble, make quite a mess, but real men ainât neat. Cliff makes himself a saucepan of mac and cheese, pops open a beer, and plops in front of the tv. Life is good!
Life is good because Cliff is really happy that Rick is a loser. If Rick were a star, a real star, he wouldnât need Rick. Heâd use him, because thatâs what stars do, but he wouldnât need him. And Cliff needs to be needed.
Rick, meanwhile, is slurpinâ whiskey sours and learning his lines for the morrowâs shoot, the pilot for a new show called Lancer, while floating in his elegant, kidney-shaped pool, which, remarkably enough, has a killer view,9 as Tarantinoâs elegant camera work will elegantly reveal.
Next door, things are a bit more lively. Roman and Sharon (she isnât named, but of course we figure it out) slip on their glad rags and head for just the hippest place in town, the Playboy Mansion! Which didnât actually exist yet in 1969, but whatever. One could wishâa littleâthat poor old Hugh Hefner were still alive (alive and, well, sentient) to see his old haunt pictured as the place where all the cool kids hung out back in the day.10 For whatever reason, Tarantino actually labels some of the big shots present so weâll know whoâs who, including Steve McQueen and Michelle Phillips and âMama Cassâ Elliot,11 the female singers of the sixties group The Mamas and the Papas.12
The shindig at the Mansion turns out to be the most carefully choreographed shindig Iâve ever seen. Everyone can danceâeven the folks in the poolâand everyoneâs in perfect time! Itâs also the most chaste Playboy Mansion shindig Iâve ever seenânot a nipple in sight. But, even more strangely, we get a sour disquisition from wallflower Steve McQueen, no less, staring at Sharonâs sweet, swingin bod and moaning strangely about her strange taste in men, that leaves him shit out of luck. Hey, lighten up, Steve, and join the party! Why Tarantino thought we needed to know all this is beyond me. (Whether Steve really did have the hots for Sharon is also beyond me.)
The next morning, Roman is up, bright and earlyâat around 7:15, as a matter of factâenjoying an outdoor French press while Sharon still slumbersâslumbers and snores, actually, because when you get up close, all chicks are just a little gross.13
Rick actually is up at 7:15 as well and heads off to the shoot with Cliff, though he clearly feels, if he does not exactly look, like shit, bent over double with one coughing fit after another and hacking up so much phlegm we figure he doesnât have to worry about lung cancer because he wonât live long enough to get it. He tells Cliff that, no, he wonât be needed on the setâand he knows damn well whyâso he might as well go back to Rickâs place and fix Rickâs tv antenna, because it needs fixinâ. Cliff nods and takes off.
Rick stumbles through the set of Lancer looking for wardrobe. When he finds it he soaks his face in ice waterâgotta tighten the damn pores, after all. Any star knows that. Plus it might help him remember his name, or even his lines. While Rick is still no more than half conscious, director Sam Wanamaker (Nicholas Hammond) bursts in, maybe not gay, but seriously exquisite. âRick Dalton! Have I got plans for you! This is going to be amazing!â
Sam rattles and prattles on in a fit of aesthetic ecstasy, while Rick stares in semi-conscious horror. He doesnât need this much enthusiasm. Heâs here for a paycheck and this dude is talkinâ about âzeitgeistsâ, whatever the fuck they are. Seriously! Zeitgeists! And itâs waaayyyy too early for fuckinâ zeitgeists!
While Rick suffers, Cliff heads back to the canyon, running into the hippie chicks once more before reaching Rickâs place. It what seems like a parody of gay porno, he straps on a tool belt, and then leaps to the top of first one wall and then another until heâs up on the roof, much like a cat and not at all like the 40-year-old man heâs supposed to be. Then he pulls off his shirt, lights a cigarette and dons a pair of work gloves. Ready for action? Hell, yeah!
But before he starts to work Cliff has time for an extended reverie on just why he isnât welcome on the Lancer set. Earlier, he had a job as Rickâs stunt man in an (imaginary) tv series starring Bruce Lee. Bruce, played by Mike Moh, comes off as a pretentious asshole, prompting Cliff to give him some serious sass. In real life, one suspects, sassing a star would get you not merely booted off the set but out of Hollywood forever, but instead Bruce and Rick agree to a genteel face-off, no punches to the head, just knock the other fellow down, best two out of three. Cliff goes down the first time, but then throws Bruce bodily against the side of a Lincoln Continental, causing a dent that looks like it was made by a 500-pound wrecking ball rather than a 130-pound Asian. Thatâs what you get for stealing our jobs, hot shot!14
But that isnât the only reason why Cliff isnât welcome on the set: thereâs this crazy rumor that he killed his wife, which Tarantino encourages us to believe is true by showing us a flashbackâwhether Cliff ârememberingâ or Tarantino showing us âthe truthâ isnât clearâof Cliff in skin diver gear on a boat listening to his bikini-clad wife bitching her head off about what a loser he is and Cliff maybe pointing his spear gun at her. Uh, so what is the point of all this? It has no payoff in the rest of the movie, leaving us to feel that Tarantino sort of wishes that people, especially women, would be afraid of him. You know that guy, Quentin Tarantino? Oh, yeah, he looks harmless, but I hear he killed his wife! Seriously!
Once Cliff finishes his reverie, he has a glimpse of the future instead of the past: a weird, hippie-lookinâ dude at the Polanski place asking about the previous tenant. We arenât clued in, but if you know your back story you know this is Charles Manson.
While all this is going on in and out of Cliffâs head, Rick is having multiple adventures on the Lancer set. The whole Lancer episode is a curious mish-mash of fact and fancy. The ârealâ Sam Wanamaker did direct the pilot of Lancer. Whether Sam was as exquisite as portrayed seems a pretty open question. The actual Lancer series was a short-lived rip-off of Bonanza, which Tarantino sort of follows and sort of not, and sometimes it seems that Rickâs character âCalebâ is the good guy and the Lancers are the bad guys, and sometimes the other way around. We see several large chunks of the show, presented to us as the audience would see themâno crew or equipment visibleâand in fact what we see is not at all what a sixties tv series would look like but rather a sort of ideal spaghetti western that Tarantino probably dreamed of making back in the day.
Before we even get there, however, Rick, dressed in character as âCalebâ has several âpregnantâ conversations, the first with the stunningly precocious (and precociously PC) âactorâ âTrudi Fraserâ (Julia Butters), already in character as âMaribellaâ. Rick canât eat lunch because of his makeup and âMaribellaâ likes to stay lean and hungry before a shoot. âWe aim for 100% efficiency. We never achieve it, of course. But itâs the pursuit that counts.â
Rick, conveniently hocking up another loogie, looks like thereâs nothing heâd like to pursue other than a whiskey sour or two and maybe a nap, but he takes a seat next to her to read his paperback westernâa little surprising since I never saw him as having much appetite for print. Maribella, after correcting Rickâs pronunciation of his characterâs last name (itâs not âDakotaâ) and generally playing the eight-year-old dominatrix to a tee (though, as an âactorâ, she would object to the feminine suffix), asks him what his book is about, and Rick launches into an extended prĂ©cis: see, thereâs this guy, he used to be just the coolest, toughest bronco buster around, but now, well, heâs gettingâ old, his back ainât so good no more, and every day he gets up knowinâ that, every day, heâs less of a man.
Rick tears up/chokes up as heâs delivering this thumbnailâbecause itâs his fucking story, get it? Maribella, as conveniently obtuse now as she was prescient before, misses the subtext. âIt sounds like a really good story!â she exclaims, thinking heâs moved purely by the power of art. âIn 15 years youâll be livinâ it!â Rick gasps, and fortunately she doesnât get this one either. And so she comforts him, not knowing just how very much he needs her solace. Itâs sort of ironic when you think about it. But, you know, touching!
Somewhere about this time we cut to Sharon, whoâs finally in motion in a spiffy new Porsche, heading to, where else, a book store! To get a first edition of Thomas Hardyâs Tess of the dâUrbervilles as a gift for Roman!15 Which may be true, or may be the biggest whopper in the movie. Anyway, who would figure Tarantino for a âreaderâ? Not me!
Once Sharon gets her book, she spots a movie theater showing The Wrecking Crew, one of the âMatt Helmsâ sixties flicks ripping off James Bond, starring the very tongue in cheek, and semi-over-the-hill Dean Martin, but co-starring, yes, Sharon Tate!16 When sheâs inside we see clips of the real film featuring Sharon, first a meet cute with Matt/Dean that features clumsy Sharon falling on her ass and showing us her panties, and later a fight scene between good Sharon and evil Nancy Kwan, with Nancy falling on her ass and showing us her panties! Take that, Asian bitch!
Well, itâs always good to see chicksâ panties, but Sharonâs repeated piano key smiles as the audience conveniently laughs and cheers her on get a little self-congratulatory for my ass. Sharon is clearly depicted as the ânew Marilyn,â speaking in the same breathy, little girl voice, utterly stunning and cool, yet innocent and sweet, a combination not often found in the real world.
Rick, meanwhile, is having his second serious sitdown, this time with the budding star of Lancer, Timothy Olyphant as âJames Stacyâ as gunfighter âJohnny Madridâ, Since James Stacy is supposed to be the new kid on the way up, he might be expected to look younger than Rick, and thus intimidating. In fact, Olyphant is six years older than Leo and pretty much looks it, and Stacy treats Rick with surprising respect. (Surprising to me, at least. Arenât young actors supposed to be assholes?) But the real point of this is for Jim to ask Rick if itâs true that he was once up for Steve McQueenâs role in The Great Escape, the film that made Steve a star?17
Rick modestly denies the story, or at least strongly soft-pedals it. Me in Steveâs big part? No, not really. Brief possibility, thatâs all. Very brief. But then we see, more or less, âRickâs dreamââclips from the real Great Escape with Leo/Rick visually dubbed in to replace Steve. It could have been him. He could have had Steveâs career. Bullitt? The Thomas Crown Affair? It could have been him. It could have been him. He coulda had class. He coulda been a contendah.18
The thing is, Rick has never been presented to us this way. Heâs been the big, strong, good-looking boy with the big, strong shoulders, who could get on and off a horse without falling on his ass, and thatâs it. Rick is the kind of pretty boy who cruises through life as long as everything comes easy and then crashes in middle age, like Erik Estrada, not the relentless egomaniacal striver who never takes no for an answer no matter how many times he gets it, like William Shatner.
In the meantime, finally, Cliff makes actual contact with one of the hippie chicks, the cute ân wanton Pussycat (Margaret Qualley), swinging her tight little butt around like she owns the world. The thing is, she probably does.19 He agrees to give her a lift, but wonât let her give him a blowjob, âexplainingâ that he doesnât want to go to jail, although we can tell that the real reason is that heâs a gentlemen. Cliff has the definite vibe of the old-fashioned B-movie cowboy hero that I grew up watching on tv, utterly chaste and emotionally devoted only to his horse (Cliff has Brandy, of course), too complete in himself to even consider sharing his essence with anything as, well, as common, as a woman.
Cliff gets a jolt when he learns that Pussycat is living at the âSpahn movie ranchâ, where Cliff and Rick used to film Bounty Law. He explains to her that he used to be a stunt man there, allowing her to explain to us that stunt men are the real heroes, because what they do is real, they arenât phonies like actors. Just in case we couldnât figure that part out for ourselves.
Well, back to Rick now, I think, and get to see an actual chunk of Lancer, filmed far more extravagantly, and elegantly, than any tv western would have been, yet with a pretty much standard script, though with some pretty spectacular behind the back shooting from Johnny Madrid, putting an uppity âbusinessmanâ in his place. Better stick to your ledgers, pencilneck!
The bit rumbles on, with plenty of moody, âintenseâ attitude from Rick, a seen it all, done it all, existential cowpoke who might remind some us of another Rick, the one who ran Rick's CafĂ© AmĂ©ricain down Casablanca way. But midway through the scene he starts blowing his lines and ends up stalking back to his trailer (but would he really have one?) to explode at himself in a predicable yet enjoyable scene. You goddamned asshole! Youâre going to quit drinking, you hear me, you goddamned alcoholic! God damn it!
Well, back to Cliff, I think, in what is easily the most impressive section of the film, the visit to the Spahn ranch to see Charlieâs angels. The girls are beautifully creepy, staring at the intruder like so many marmosets, Dakota Fanning particularly memorable as ruthless boss lady Squeaky Fromme, who in real life was not involved directly in any of the murders but became notorious as the âspokeswomanâ for the Manson family during his trial, and more notorious several years later when she tried to assassinate President Ford.
Squeaky sends a girl to fetch âTexâ, Charles Watson, played by Austin Butler, who played the lead role in the Sharon Tate murders, to check out the new guy. Tex arrives on horseback, suitably enough, and, in some serious dick measuring, Cliff reminisces about his visit to Houston, where he spent two weeks on a chain gang. âThat was the last time I broke a policemanâs jaw, I can tell you that!â Although I expect that if you broke a policemanâs jaw in Houston, Texas back in the fifties you probably wouldnât live to talk about it.
Pussycat really digs guys who break copsâ jaws, and it must sound good to Tex as well, so he rides off, getting back to his job as guide for dudes who want to visit the mountains. But once heâs gone, Cliff starts to get a little pushy. Is old George Spahn still around? Sure would like to visit old George and see how heâs doing. The girls all tell him no, clearly infuriated by his decision to penetrate beneath the surface of their groupthink. Word gets back to Squeaky, holed up in what Cliff knows is Georgeâs old house, so she sends all the girls away and tries to face down Cliff, but he faces her down instead and finally has a thoroughly creepy conversation with old George (Bruce Dern), blind and helpless and utterly dependent on the girls.
Cliff, utterly frustrated by Georgeâs utter dependenceâhe canât be âsavedâ because he doesnât want to beâstrides out to meet the glaring, feral eyes of the assembled family. As he passes, Pussycat leaps onto the hood of a car and screams âGeorge isnât blind! Youâre the one whoâs blind!â
Cliff keeps on walking, only to find out that Rickâs Caddy has a flat, thanks to a giggly, half-naked Jesus clone with hillbilly teeth. Definitely time to kick some goddamn hippie ass! Something Tarantino clearly digs almost as much as smelling chickâs feet.
Cliff grabs the punk by the hair and pummels him half to death. Thatâll teach you! Now fix the goddamn flat! âGypsyâ (Lena Dunham) sends one of the girls off on a horse to get Texâsomething she might have thought of earlierâand Tex comes riding up in an excellent display of horsemanship, that is as gratuitous as the beatdown Cliff gives the Jesus dude,20 because by the time he gets back Cliff is gone.
Finally (I guess), we cut back to Rick, headed back on the set for one last shot at redemption. Spaghetti western âbullfighter/showdownâ music blares operatically on the soundtrack, as Rick walks through the soundstage for the final showdown, the one between Rick Dalton and ... Rick Dalton! Can he cut it, or is he history?
In Rickâs big scene, heâs kidnapped Maribella, holding her on his lap with his six-shooter pointed at her head while he holds forth in a swaggering conversation with âScott Lancerâ (Luke Perry in his last role, as the actor Wayne Maunder). Since Rick/Caleb clearly has the upper hand, fancy-pants Scott (he apparently went to Harvard) can do nothing other than listen to Calebâs trash talk, which Caleb concludes by throwing Maribella violently to the floor in a display of his ruthlessness. Cut! Cut! Rick made it all the way through the scene! In flying colors!
âI didnât hurt you, did I, darlinâ?â Rick asks.
âIâm fine,â Maribella reassures him, popping up to show him her arm. âSee, I have padding!â
Sam Wanamaker (Sam the director) rushes up.
âRick, you were fabulous! Exactly what I wanted! Evil, sexy Hamlet!â
Rick sits there, a little stunned by the outpouring of passion heâs achieved.
âRick, Rick, your adlibs were amazing! âBeaner bronco-busterâ?21 Why, thatâs triple alliteration! And throwing the little girl on the floor! Beautiful!â
Yeah, but, uh, if the toss was an adlib, why was Maribella wearing padding?22 Anyway, tossing an eight-year-old around like a ping-pong ball as an adlib sounds a little dubious to me. Good thing her parents werenât around!
But Tarantino isnât done gilding the lily. Trudi/Maribella, whose dedication to her craft makes Stanislavski look like a slacker, tells him âthatâs the best acting Iâve ever seen!â
Which is all a little silly, because no one, but no one has ever suggested that he had any real talent as an actor, and heâs never expressed any interest in his âcraftâ, other than not looking like an asshole and not losing his paycheck. But Tarantino somehow canât resist violating Rickâs real character in order to make him look heroic, a goddamn Laurence Olivier in chaps!
After all this, we have a grotesquely awkward âtransitionâ, narrated by Kurt Russell, about Rick and Cliffâs excellent Italian adventure, which one can very easily believe was originally intended to take up a good chunk of the film, probably extending its running time to something close to three and half hours, but, for whatever reason, that doesnât happen. Instead, we get a few cutesy movie posters, and a few little anti-PC snickers directed at American Indians, who seem to rub Quentin the wrong way for whatever reason, and also Rick gets married to this Italian broad, who snores a lot, just like Sharon. As for âactingââevil, sexy Hamlet and all thatâwell, Quentin seems to have forgotten all about it, and Rick is back in character as the self-indulgent bad boy who loafs through life, traveling first class thanks to his broad shoulders and pretty face, while devoted Cliff sits in coach and chugs Bloody Marys, because, it seems, Rickâs cutting him loose. Canât afford a wife and a bottom at the same time!
Once Rick and âFrancescaâ (Lorenza Izzo) are installed in Rickâs old place, Russell continues his tiresome narration, setting up that fateful night when all four story lines will coincide. Rick and Cliff head out for one last celebratory drunk and then head back, Russell constantly stressing to us, for some reason, that Rick and Cliff are like totally blind, stinking drunk, even though they donât really act that way. Francescaâs already in bed (she stayed home, naturally), Rickâs mixing margheritas, and Cliffâs taking Brandy for a walk. S/Heâs there, for some reason (really, of course, for plot reasons). Cliff decides heâll smoke this LSD-soaked cigarette that Pussycat sold him, even though, the web informs me, âsmokingâ LSD destroys its hallucinogenic power (because the heat causes it to break down chemically).
While Cliffâs gone, Tex and three of the Manson girlsâSusan Atkins (Mikey Madison), Patricia Krenwinkle (Madisen Beaty), and Linda Kasabian (Maya Hawke)âarrive to do the Polanski household in, pulling up in a noisy, busted muffler car. Rick stumbles out with his carafe full of margheritas to tell those goddamn hippies to get off his goddamn private drive and smoke their goddamn pot someplace else. Tex, apparently not wanting to have to kill this guy, backs the car down the drive, while Rick takes his margheritas out to one of his favorite retreats, the chair floating in his kidney-shaped pool.
The hippies reconnoiter. âYou know who that was? Rick Dalton!â âRick Dalton? Rick fucking Dalton?â âRick Fucking Dalton!â âFuck! You know what? Guys like that, they taught us to murder. I say, letâs murder the murderers!â
As it turns out, Kasabian bails, driving away in the car,23 but Tex, with a six-shooter shoved in his pants, and Patricia and Susan, armed with knives, head up the drive.
Cliff, by this time, is back inside the house, fixing Brandy dinner when the kids show up. After some cutesy, high on LSD antics, the action finally starts, Tex pointing his six-shooter at Cliffâs head. Brandy, flying through the air, disarms him and then fixes her teeth in his balls while Cliff brains Atkins with a can of Wolfâs Tooth. Krenwinkle stabs Cliff in the thigh, causing him to grab her by the hair and smash her face into a variety of unyielding surfaces, which starts to look a little sadistic on Tarantinoâs part after the third or fourth smash. Somewhere along the line Brandy switches from Tex to Atkins, dragging her around the room like the shark in the beginning of Jaws. Tex stumbles to his feet and tries to stab Cliff, but gets stabbed instead, then gets knocked down and then (I think) Cliff breaks his neck. But then Atkins gets hold of Texâs gun and shoots Cliff, causing him to fall over as though he were dead. The girl staggers to her feet, her face covered in blood and screaming like a maniac, and stumbles out to the pool, waving Texâs gun and firing off a round or two, finally catching Rickâs attention. Guess what, headphones!
Atkins crashes into the pool, still firing the gun. Rick sobers up quickly and, finding his trusty flamethrowerâyou didnât see that coming? Amateur!âroasts the bitch.
The police arrive to figure things out. Guess what? Cliff ainât dead! Sounding awfully coherent for a guy whoâs drunk, high on LSD, stabbed in the thigh, and shot, he tells Rick not to come to the hospital with him but tend to his lady. Because greater love hath no bottom than to give up his life, not for his top, but for his topâs lady!
âYouâre a good friend, Cliff,â Rick tells him.
âI try,â says Cliff.
Hey! Didnât we hear that line before?
But the good news isnât over yet! Jay Sebring (Emile Hirsch), one of Sharonâs houseguests, hears the commotion and asks Rick whatâs happening. Rick fills him in and, one way or another, Sharon hears their conversation and calls down on the intercom to invite Rick up for a drink. And so the gates to the magic kingdomâthe magic kingdom of A-listers and Playboy Mansion attendersâopen for Rick. Let the pool parties begin!
Afterwords I Movie Violence
When I first heard that Tarantino was making a movie about âoldâ Hollywood starring Leo and Brad I was intrigued. When I learned that Leo would be living next door to Sharon Tate, not so much. I hated Tarantinoâs chef d'Ćuvre Pulp Fiction, and I detested Kill Bill Volume I, and one thing I did not want to see was Tarantinoâs take on the Tate/Manson murders. When I learned that Quentin was rewriting historyâin tune, really, with my own squeamish predilectionsâI thought I would take a chance. In any event, there are lots of violent films that I do like, including Bonnie & Clyde and Terminator 2. Whatâs the difference between âgood violenceâ and âbad violenceâ other than the eye of the beholder?
Well, not much, obviously. The âsword blade through the milk carton and the mouth and out the back of the headâ shot from Terminator 2 is âclassicâ,24 but you wouldnât like it if someone did that to you, would you?
Much of the violence in Once Upon A Time is gratuitous in that itâs clearly wish fulfillment on Tarantinoâs part, but thereâs little that I found outright sadistic, which is what I really object to. Itâs notably less sadistic than the coming features that I saw advertised with the filmâIt Chapter 2, Hide and Seek, and Joker. Obviously, audiences like sadistic.
Afterwords II Helter Skelter Despite the âmassiveâ sixties soundtrack, in one sense the silence is deafening, because there is, unsurprisingly, nothing from the âWhite Albumâ. Like several million other people, Charles Manson thought the Beatles recorded this famous double album just for him, and that every song had a particular meaning. âHelter Skelterâ (in Great Britain, an amusement park ride) was for Manson the signal for the start of a race war in America, which would some how allow him to seize power, in some manner. The Tate murders were intended, more or less, to provoke that war because the police were intended to believe that black revolutionaries had committed them. Vincent Bugliosi, the district attorney who prosecuted Manson and the others, wrote a book, with Curt Gentry, Helter Skelter, about the case, which was later turned into a television mini-series.
EsmĂ© was thirteen. Making âTrudi Fraserâ eight seems really a stretch to me. â©ïž
Did Tarantino invent âfakeâ sixties tunes as well? Not impossible, but it seems unlikely. â©ïž
Word can spell âSesteroâ but not âWiseauâ? Tommy wonât like that! Gregâs book, The Disaster Artist, which he co-wrote with Tom Bissell, revealed to the world the bizarre backstory behind Wiseauâs cult classic di tutti cult classics, The Room, and is definitely superior to Francoâs film, which derives half its considerable charm by simply recreating classic scenes from Wiseauâs ineffable creation. â©ïž
Dunno if Tarantino just wanted the car to sound cool or if he was parodying this frequent device as used by other directors. Anyone who knows anything about cars knows that tiny, underpowered English sports cars do not sound like this. As dubious car enthusiast Mort Sahl put it, âMGs are great if you donât mind being blown off by housewives in Plymouth station wagons.â Jews are into cars? â©ïž
Marvin says âkinescopeâ rather than âtapeâ because consumer videotape machines didnât exist in 1969. The networks used tape, but Marvin would have needed a film version, a âkinescopeâ, which is what the networks used before the development of videotape, to view using a projector. *Once Upon A Timeâ is filled with anachronisms, but film buff Tarantino gets this one right. However, the âHullabalooâ clip is filmed in wide-screen, which of course is totally inaccurate. Leoâs performance looks as though it were based on the persona of fifties super-square Pat Boone. â©ïž â©ïž
I have no grasp of LA geography, so I have no idea of where Rick and Cliff are. â©ïž
The Karmann Ghia was simply an Italian-bodied Volkswagen bug. If Cliff had the âbigâ engine (presumably, he did), he could hit 90. If not, 75 was probably the top. â©ïž
Brad addresses Brandy as âmanâ in this scene even though the actual dog, "Sayuri", is a female and is referred to as such in the final scenes. â©ïž
A place like Rickâs would of course require constant upkeep to avoid turning into a mess, but, as is so often the case in film, the place somehow cleans itself. â©ïž
Jay Leno described his one Mansion visit as âa lot of middle-aged men hitting on a lot of young women.â â©ïž
Cass Elliot grew up in Alexandria, Virginia, which is next to Falls Church, where I grew up. On the M&Psâ cover of the Martha and the Vandellas hit âDancinâ in the Streetâ, the M&Ps fade out the song with the list of the cities where theyâre, you know, dancing in the streetââBaltimore and DC nowââwith the following barely audible dialogue: âAlexandria?â âIn Virginia, Virginia.â âFalls Church?â âNever heard of it.â Both are suburbs of Washington, DC. Falls Church is supposedly the setting for at least two tv shows, JAG and The Americans. â©ïž
Three of their songs are heard on the soundtrack, though they only sing one of themââTwelve Thirtyâ. Both âTwelve Thirtyâ and âStraight Shooterâ are explicitly about heroin addiction, while the third and most famous, âCalifornia Dreaminââ, strongly hints at it. The sheet music for âStraight Shooterâ was found on a piano at the scene of the actual Manson/Tate murders. â©ïž
âStella shits!â exclaimed Jonathan Swift regarding Esther Johnson, his life-long obsessive love, whom he first met when she was eight. Quentin seems to hate women yet want to smell their feet. â©ïž
In an interview, Tarantino has âexplainedâ that in âreal lifeâ Cliff would kick Bruce Leeâs ass because war hero Cliff was a Green Beret. Since Cliff, like Rick, is supposed to be pushing 40, he would have to have been a âwar heroâ in Korea. Combat operations in Korea ended with the 1954 armistice. Special forces troops never wore the green beret until 1955, and it was almost immediately discontinued until revived in 1961. They received enormous publicity in the sixties. I donât know why theyâve been supplanted by the Seals as the ultimate bad asses. â©ïž
Anyone who likes books likes first editions, but I very much dislike the use of first editions as a way to make books expensive status symbols. Go Kindle! (And, in any event, if I had a copy of a 90-year-old first edition, I wouldnât carry it unprotected in my sweaty little hand, as Sharon does.)Â â©ïž
I rented one of Mattâs/Deanâs films for some purposeâI canât remember whyâand Iâm pretty sure it wasnât The Wrecking Crew, but it was so slow-paced and boring that I couldnât watch it, il Dino wandering around like heâd had more whiskey sours than Rick Dalton. â©ïž
McQueen started out in tv as the star of Wanted Dead or Alive, the very obvious âinspirationâ for Bounty Law. McQueen, a very big star in 1969, thanks to Bullit and Crown Affair, which were in fact his only two films to be remembered, was supposedly âtargetedâ by Manson as part of his plan to cause the U.S. to erupt in a race war. Which may be why heâs such a presence in this film. Or not. â©ïž
âInstead of a bum, which is what I amââMarlon Brandoâs lines from On the Waterfront, once among the most quoted in American film, bitterly complaining to his brother, played by Rod Steiger, that his career as a boxer was ruined when he was forced, by his brother, to throw a fight. â©ïž
Qualley, who has had extensive ballet training, is probably the best dancer in the whole film. â©ïž
It would also likely leave the horse exhausted for the rest of the day. Horse races only last a mile or so because horses canât gallop for much longer than that. â©ïž
Not exactly that, probably, anyway, three âbâsâ. â©ïž
Also, the camera backs up to keep Maribella in the shot, which it wouldnât have done if Cliffâs action had been an adlib. â©ïž
In âreal lifeâ, Kasabian did not drive away but remained behind as a lookout. Kasabian was involvedâalways as a bystander, she claimedâin many of the murders committed by Manson and his followers, but was able to avoid prison time by serving as the key witness against the others. â©ïž
âGod damn it! How many times do I have to tell you? Donât drink out of the carton?â Itâs âniceâ that the T-1000 stays in character as the past her limit housewife as âsheâ pulls her blade/hand from the dumb shitâs head. â©ïž
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Zuul Takes the ROM
On a day of record-breaking snowfall in Toronto, we gleefully leapt at the opportunity to leave our igloo and journey to Hill County, Montana... 76 million years in the past.
Have we mastered the art of space and time travel? No, not quite. Our journey was thrilling nonethelessâwe visited the latest exhibition at Torontoâs Royal Ontario Museum, Zuul: Life of an Armoured Dinosaur, presenting sponsor Sinking Ship Entertainment.
The (rock) star at the centre of this exhibition is Zuul crurivastatorâor just Zuul to close pals like us. Pro Tip: say it like âschool.â

Speaking of School⊠For Lesson #1: Who is Zuul?
If the name rings a bell, it might be because Zuul was named for the dinosaurâs passing resemblance to the monster in 1984âČs Ghostbusters. (We too love a good 80s throwback.) The species name of this creature (thatâs the âcrurivastatorâ bit) means âdestroyer of shinsâ in Latin.Â
Zuul roamed the Earth about 76 million years ago, during the Late Cretaceous Period. At 6 metres long the dinosaur would have weighed about 2.5 tonnes, and belonged to a wider family of armoured dinosaurs known as ankylosaurs.
Fun fact: these dinos are rarely found by palaeontologists (only about 5% of all found dinosaurs are ankylosaurs), and Zuul itself is an even rarer findâits tail was still attached to its bodyâmaking this exhibition particularly groundbreaking!
Plus, Zuulâs remains are remarkably untouched, thanks to the speed and depth at which it was buried. There were even portions of Zuulâs skin that remain preserved, offering huge research opportunities for the scientists working with the find.
So how did Zuul earn the moniker âdestroyer of shinsâ? Well, at the end of its long, spiked tail is a bony club, which it would have swung at any potential predators for self-defence. And defend itself it certainly didâover the years, the remains of other carnivorous dinosaurs have been found with damage to their shin-region, many even showing signs of fracture and repair. Zuul was not to be messed with!
Best of all? If Zuul was still roaming the Earth today, we think weâd get along famouslyâjust like us, Zuul had a penchant for plants. As a herbivore, its diet consisted solely of plants. Ferns in particular were a favourite meal, which Zuul would have munched on with its toothless beak. Psst! All this plant talk left you hangry? Try our ZUUL-APPROVED SMOOTHIE BOWL.

The Exhibition
The ROMâs exhibition is the very first time the dinosaurâs fossilized remains have been put on public display, so visitors can boast they are among the first in the world to meet the fearsome dino face-to-face.
After a short video about the discovery of Zuul, including interviews with the team that found the dinosaurâs remains, the ROMâs exhibition continues with an introduction to Zuulâs wider family. No, there are no embarrassing photo albums; instead expect a series of skulls, hands-on brass models, and fact-filled posters about ankylosaurs!
Rounding the corner, we entered the main room of the exhibition to find Zuul and a Gorgosaurus locked in battle! Thankfully, the carefully poised skeletons pose no threat to visitors, but those exploring the exhibition can watch the duo fighting in a cinematic, CG-reenactment of the fight on a large screen nearby.
Rounding the corner, we entered the main room of the exhibition to find Zuul and a Gorgosaurus locked in battle! Thankfully, the carefully poised skeletons pose no threat to visitors, but those exploring the exhibition can watch the duo fighting in a cinematic, CG-reenactment of the fight on a large screen nearby.
This short video is just one of the ways this exhibition breathes life back into 76-million-year-old Zuul using the wonders of modern technology. Visitors can fight in an arcade-style game (now weâve really lived our best 80s fantasy, with an abundance of button mashing and enthusiastic joystick maneuvering), and there are plenty of 3D renderings of bones, skulls, and other items found alongside Zuul for visitors to interact with and learn more about.
Weâll make no bones about itâthis roar-some exhibition is undoubtedly worth stomping to the ROM for. Zuulâs club is one weâre proud to be members of!

Zuul: Life of an Armoured Dinosaur, presenting sponsor Sinking Ship Entertainment runs at the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto from Dec. 15, 2018, to May 20, 2019. Entry to the exhibition is free for ROM Members (rom.on.ca). And until May 20, 2019, you can get 14 months for the price of 12* on a 1-year Family/Dual or ROM Social Membership using promo code: GREENHOUSE. Visit rom.on.ca/membership to get your Membership today.
PLUS, from March 9 to 16th ROM Members can pick up a free Plant Protein Bar at any Greenhouse own-location with the purchase of a quad pack. Simply present your Membership card to our team and give us your best Zuul roar. Limit one per customer, while supplies last.
*Cannot be combined with any other offer or discount. To enquire about this offer by phone call 416-586-5700.
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&&. tag dump
#meme | to the moon and never back.#interaction | maybe i belong among the stars.#fact | stay wild moon child.#interest | shoot for the moon land among the stars.#ooc | lost somewhere in outer space.#promo | stars shine brightest in the dark.#visual | among the stars and past the universe.
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