#Ophelia Shaw

[liminal-storage]

0-The Fool

Prompt: Steer  Characters: Ophelia Shaw, Roland Shaw, Shayl Content Warnings: Mentions of taxidermy, insects, and odors related to decay.

Envy makes a foul and fickle monster, a creature hewn of lies with sickle-sharp teeth. And envy holds the door for its hungry cousin greed, whereby together they spin the world around them into a wasteland. Ophelia knows this better than most. For someone like her, life holds only one path. Hers is a modest existence, the life of a lady's maid neither shameful nor overly glamorous. Perhaps if she works hard enough she can rise somewhat within the household, but even so she shall never be anything more than a maid.

A maid who envies the very lady she serves, who pockets little trinkets and perfume bottles to sell off for a few extra coins. A betrayer and a thief. She tells herself it's out of necessity. Her brother Roland's gambling habits have their savings in shambles, and she's only doing what she has to in order to keep their larder from going empty. And should an extra bit of jewelry or a prettily embroidered handkerchief make its way into her pockets for her own personal use? Well, that's simply her due for being such a diligent worker. It isn't as though her Lady will miss such things. Ophelia doubts she even thinks about them once she puts them down.

Life is no fairy tale.

Of this, she's so, so keenly aware. Should her Lady or one of the other servants catch her in her sticky-fingered practice, no amount of excuses will suffice. There will be no divine intervention or a handsome stranger to save her. That ruin which she so fears will chase her, hungrier than any slavering hound, and tear her life into pieces.

She needs a way out, a different solution. Something substantial. Something big. Ophelia spends her days dreaming of a miracle she knows will never come.

She spends her nights listening to her brother and his companions kicking up an obnoxious raucous in the room next to hers, the shared wall being thin and offering little in the way of noise dampening.

Sheets twisted about her legs in her tiny, plain, room, she sips upon a bottle pilfered from Roland's space when he was away during the day. Liquor goes in, and hateful thoughts come out. Slurred curses and complaints slip free from her mouth, drowned out by the noise from next door. They'll never hear her over the sound of clinking bottles and raunchy jokes. Such is her one and only catharsis, she thinks, eyes shut tight against a blinding headache.

Further sipping does nothing to alleviate the pain, and when her ears catch something interesting she sputters, showering the bedding with cheap alcohol.

"If your sister's still giving you so much trouble, you could go see old Owlface. I'm sure he could help you out."

"Nah, no, don't be dealin' with that one. M'brother in law says his help's not worth the price. Said he smells like rotten meat, too."

"Aye? But he can help with anything. Helped me get rid of my own debts and now I'm living free as a bird."

"And yet you're still coming around to this rathole to be with us. I don't know about the rest of you, but that has me feeling all warm and tingly inside. I think this calls for another round!"

Ophelia does what she can to drown out the rest, her mind buzzing. 

She has not heard much about this…Owlface. Then again, she rarely hears much about anything at all. She knows the strange man came to town about a year ago, that he rarely leaves his place of business, and that no one has ever seen his face, hidden as it is behind a wooden mask carved into the heart-shaped face of an owl. Ophelia scoffs a little. Is it a name he gave himself, or something the uncreative masses came up with instead?

Regardless, she also knows that he has a certain reputation, and no specific occupation. A jack of all trades, they say, a helper and a fixer. Her brother’s friends might be loud and obnoxious, but unlike him (and unlike her), they are honest and hard workers. If they say this strange man with no name helped them clear their debts, she believes it. Through the haze of alcohol, Ophelia begins to plan.

She goes to him on her next day off. Hands shaking, and pockets free of stolen trinkets, she sets off across town to find the stranger who smells of rotting meat. The building he resides in looks oddly crooked from the street, but once she comes to a stop in front of it, everything seems perfectly straight and perfect. A swinging wooden sign board hangs above the door, faded lettering greeting her. A brown and white bird of prey startles her nearly out of her skin when it turns its head to regard her. A barn owl, and a large one at that, looms perched upon the sign. So still and ghostly silent, she mistook it for a part of the sign. It makes no sound as she places a hand upon the door. Ophelia already feels half the courage chased right out of her, but all she can do is carry forth. 

She’s not sure what to expect. A bar or an antique store or a taxidermist’s shop? A book store or a tailor’s workshop or a woodworker’s stall? 

The cluttered mess of furnishings and knick-knacks suggests none of those things, and yet somehow all of them at once. She supposes she’d call it a “collection,” because no other word will suffice. Expensive liquor bottles sit on worn, crooked shelves where their dusty bodies barely catch the few rays of light filtering in through the building’s frosted glass windows. They’re all fine vintages, the sort of bottle that would take years of saving to purchase, things meant to be savored over the course of a lifetime. Some seem to be missing corks. Others have the necks of their bottles shattered off completely, cracks splitting from top to bottom and held in place only by the other bottles around them. There’s no care here, no reverence, no proper storage. They’re merely taking up space, like so many of the other items around them. 

Items like books with torn pages and frayed binding, or wooden figurines with chips and warping which have been tossed haphazardly into boxes in the corner. Or things like a half-done bear taxidermy, the treated hide pulled taut in some spots while puckered and folded in others, blocking pins stuck into the mannequin beneath. Everything looks like it has been ruined by neglect, thrown into whatever space the floor has available to accommodate it. A storage room left forgotten and almost hated.

So engrossed is she in looking at each object with an odd, forlorn expression on her face, that Ophelia fails to notice the building’s unusual tenant at first. She is, once again, startled near to death by movement in the corner with the taxidermied bear and the voice which speaks from beneath a disc of burnished wood. 

“It’s not often that we get visitors this time of day.” 

Once her heart stops trying to escape from her ribcage and her breathing levels out, Ophelia realizes there’s been someone there the entire time, black-clad hands running over the broken taxidermy base. His entire body’s shrouded in black, actually, the only exception being that damned mask. Ophelia stutters something out, words completely lost in the attempt, and the figure rises, and oh, she realizes that Roland’s friend had not been lying. 

The smell hits her hard. It is a cloying odious cloud, like rotting fruit and meat left in the sun to the mercy of carrion insects. It is the stench of a raw, festering wound, of sour sweat and sour dairy. She isn’t sure that she’s ever experienced such a foul cocktail of decay. It’s overwhelming, sickening, and for a moment she wants nothing more than to run to the door and forget she ever considered meeting Owlface to begin with. She tries to run for the door. 

Her legs refuse to obey, and the figure slithers closer. 

“Ah.”

He makes a tutting noise, condescending little clucks of his tongue which might be meant as soothing. 

“None of that, now. You came all this way, after all. I would be an incredibly rude host if I let you leave so soon. There’s no need to fear. I know the smell is a bit…overwhelming, but I ask that you bear with me for a moment. It will become easier to endure as you get used to it. Something about going nose-blind once you’re exposed to certain smells and all. Ah, but I am rambling. Please, tell old Owlface what it is you need. Although, I think I can hazard a guess.” 

He reaches out to touch her face and Ophelia tries to scream. Her voice won’t work, either. 

“You desire freedom. Freedom from debt. Freedom from worry. Freedom from your wastrel of a brother. Am I correct? Nod, if you will.” 

Her head bobs once, and the rotting stranger seems pleased. 

“I thought so. Fear not, dear lady. I can grant you your freedom. If you agree, in three days hence you will find yourself with a twist of good fortune upon your doorstep. Ah, you must be wondering what the catch is. You need not worry. I assure you that I want nothing but your happiness. No harm will come to you, and you shall live out the rest of your days in peace and security. That is what you desire, is it not?”  

She’ll never be able to tell just what made her nod again, what force compelled her to agree with this horrifying stranger so intimately close. Nor will there ever be a soul who Ophelia trusts to speak of that day, but she knows that like before, her body refuses to obey. Her head nods, her heart sinks, and still her legs refuse to run. 

“Very good, then. You have nothing to fuss over. I will see to every arrangement, and in three days you will forget about ever having worried in the first place.” 

He lowers his hand, and Ophelia runs

Yet, true to his word, in three days, her fate does change when a man she’s never met comes to call. His name is Raphael Marlowe, the young owner of a textile business who recently came into a moderate fortune thanks to a few investments he’d made. She’s apprehensive at first. As any young woman might be. But she has no other prospects, and Roland’s gambling debt has grown worse. Besides, Raphael is a handsome young man with dark hair and strong hands and eyes as green as an emerald. This is the solution she's been dreaming of.

She thinks nothing of the strange, cloying odor she can smell in his hair at times. Nor does she think much of his family crest, which soon becomes her family crest to be displayed proudly in their new home. She never again thinks of the stranger or his cluttered shop of things long abandoned. 

She never asks about the burnished wooden mask that Raphael keeps in a trunk of old keepsakes, its smooth surface carved with the heart-shaped features of an owl.

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume 10, Number 5

Arab Strap

It’s lovely out. The lilacs are in bloom. The weather is warm enough to make a sweater/sweatshirt/coat redundant, and the bugs are swarming happily all over the garden. And yet, here we are, inside, ear buds in place, music on high, because however nice the weather, what if we missed something? What if, you, our readers missed something? Well, fear not, because we’re back with another set of short, impassioned reviews. Scottish lifers obsessed with their phones, South African jazzmen nearly forgotten, mumbling rappers, untethered improvisers—it’s all here for you. What, you were going out? Too nice to stay inside? Well, okay, it’ll be here when you get back.

Contributors include Ian Mathers, Justin Cober-Lake, Ray Garraty, Bill Meyer, Bryon Hayes, Jonathan Shaw, Andrew Forell, Christian Carey, Alex Johnson and Jennifer Kelly.

Arab Strap — I'm totally fine with it 👍 don't give a fuck anymore 👍 (Rock Action)

Even more surprising than this Scottish duo’s perversely triumphant return a few years ago is that in 2024 Aidan Moffat is writing more about the internet than about cheating and booze. (He’s still writing about those things too though, don’t worry.) Less shocking is that his laceratingly keen eye is no less effective when turned on his own relationship with his phone, or the way women are treated by the “fathers, husbands, sons and brothers” around them as soon as the deniability of a screen is in place, or the psychology of someone who turns to QAnon. And not just technology; with songs addressing those who’ve never recovered from the early-pandemic hit to their ability to go outside and those capitalism leaves to die in solitude, this might be the least relationship-y Arab Strap LP to date. Malcolm Middleton roughs up their sound again to match the bruised, heartfelt brutality of Moffat’s subject matter and the result is one of the most simultaneously empathetic and unsettling records from a band who’ve never been short on either quality.

Ian Mathers

Bad Nerves — Still Nervous (Suburban)

For their second album Still Nervous, punk rockers Bad Nerves take their ready-made formula and just amp everything up. Everything's loud and fast; the band clearly descends from the Ramones, but they've gone more manic. They secretly mix in flourishes of power pop. Underneath all the ruckus, they have a knack for catchy melodies, guitar solos and even vocal harmonies. Then Bad Nerves rough up the pop elements to make sure their disaffection comes through with enough spite to keep everything properly punk. The record does little to vary mood or tempo, but it doesn't need to. The band does one thing, but they excel at it. The Strokes comparisons the band's received mostly work, but the lo-fi production keeps everything sounding as if it's in an actual garage. “Plastic Rebel” offers a youthful rampage, bubble gummy enough to touch on Cheap Trick, but continually plowing forward. The Essex quintet closes the album with “The Kids Will Never Have Their Say,” an evergreen sentiment for the young and irritable. The point doesn't break new ground, but it's beside the point. Bad Nerves tap into something long running and rush the tradition on with plenty of verve and a hint of bile.

Justin Cober-Lake

Conway the Machine — Slant Face Killah (Drumwork \ EMPIRE)

If it wasn’t for Conway’s name on the copy to the album you’d think this was a long solo producer tapes with 40 guests on it, each mumbling about something nobody’s interested in except for the mumbler himself. It is not an exaggeration: it really lasts more than an hour, has close to 20 guests (depends on how you count) and even though Slant Face Killah is produced by a dozen of people the beats all sound the same. If it already sounds awful even for the diehard Conway fans, grip for the worst part of it. It ain’t even worth the trouble to skip all the tiring guest verses for the Conway verses because they are not good anyway. A total failure.

Ray Garraty

Alex Cunningham — Rivaled (Storm Cellar)

Remember October 2020? The time of still-subdued traffic, no shows and a looming election? Rivaled is an artifact of that moment. Nowadays, Alex Cunningham is an intensely active improviser, based in St. Louis but active all around the middle of the USA. Back then he was stuck at home and moved to make some noise. “Faith” and “Void” offer two paths to obliteration. The former is pretty plugged in, with electronic effects and appropriated radio noise turning Cunningham’s violin into a full-on electrical storm. The latter is unreliant upon electricity, but maybe even more dogged and savage. Originally released as an edition of 20 cassette, Rivaled is now a CD with a bonus remix that mashes both tracks together, both vertically and temporally, like a piggybacked highlights reel. Of noise relaxes you, you’ll want this close at hand when the next election rolls around.

Bill Meyer

Dun-Dun Band — Pita Parka Pt. 1: Xam Egdub (Ansible Editions)

Dun-Dun Band is an all-star cast of characters comprising some of Toronto’s most creative musicians and led by musical polymath Craig Dunsmuir. Dunsmuir is a shape shifter, trading guises and styles for decades: a guitar loop conjuror known as Guitarkestra, a purveyor of mutant disco vibes alongside Sandro Perri in Glissandro 70, a welder of minimalism, dub, and avant-garde weirdness as Kanada 70. His Dun-Dun Band collects members of Eucalyptus and Badge Époque Ensemble along with stalwarts Colin Fisher, Karen Ng, Josh Cole and Ted Crosby. Pita Parka is the group’s debut on vinyl and features three extended cosmic jazz jams that fuse multi-horn interplay to African-inspired polyrhythm. The music slyly winks at 1970s fusion but is more akin to that of modern ensembles such as Natural Information Society. The extended nature of the pieces allows the reedists to stretch their lungs and roam around, and for the rest of the ensemble to engage in creative interplay. Pita Parka is a stellar offering from some of Toronto’s finest players and one of the city’s most inquisitive and inventive minds.

Bryon Hayes

Roby Glod / Christian Ramond / Klaus Kugel—No ToXic (Nemu)

The three participants in this session are all veterans of middle European jazz that’s free in spirit, if not always in form. Bassist Christian Ramond and Klaus Kugel are from Germany, and soprano/alto saxophonist Roby Glod is from Luxembourg; their collective cv includes work with Kenny Wheeler, Ken Vandermark and Michael Formanek. Online evidence suggests that they’ve played together as a trio since 2015, which explains their easy rapport and nuanced interaction, but this is their first CD. Freedom for these folks means having the latitude to linger over a tune or to settle into nuanced timbral exchanges, but if you carded them, they’d all have jazz driver’s licenses. This music swings, often at speed, which is a very important aspect of their shared aesthetic; the excitement often comes from hearing Glod invent intricate, evolving lines that are lifted off by fast walking bass lines and kept in the air with light but insistent cymbal play. While the album is named No ToXic, the sheer pleasure of hearing these guys lock in could truthfully be labeled counter-toxic.

Bill Meyer

Göden — Veil of the Fallen (Svart)

Longtime listeners of death doom will recognize the name Stephen Flam, guitarist and co-founder of storied band Winter whose Into Darkness (1990) concretized the subgenre in the US; the record was great, and still is. For his recent work with Göden, Flam has dubbed himself “Spacewinds,” and his bandmates follow suit, with stage names that are equal parts risible and ridiculously gravid: vocalist Vas Kallas performs as “Nyxta (Goddess of Night)” (those parens seem to be her idea…) and keyboardist Tony Pinnisi appears as “The Prophet of Göden.” Okay. This reviewer’s inexhaustible appetite for Winter’s slim output disposes him to think kindly of Flam, and there’s nothing especially terrible about Veil of the Fallen — but that’s only because there’s nothing all that special about the record. The sound of the title track is appealingly austere, and the NyQuil-chugging riffs of “Death Magus” are sort of fun. But any listeners hoping for flashes of the inimitable, awesome awfulness of Winter would be well advised to recall the meaning of inimitable. Not even Flam, it seems, can provide a convincing replica of those energies and textures.

Jonathan Shaw

Mick Harvey — Five Ways to Say Goodbye (Mute)

Former Birthday Party and Bad Seeds member Mick Harvey looks back at his life on his autumnal new album “Five Ways to Say Goodbye.” Although he contributes only four original songs, his skill as an arranger and interpreter reaches its zenith. Harvey imbues his own and others’ songs with intense emotion that never tips into melodrama or histrionics. Augmenting his acoustic guitar with evocative string arrangements which provide counterpoint and color to his lyrics “When We Were Young and Beautiful” may be the finest song he has written; poetic in structure, elegiac in feeling, Harvey faces his past with dispassionate empathy for lost friends and acceptance of where he is now. His version of David McComb’s “Setting You Free” locates a Faustian menace in the song, using the strings to carry the dynamic thrust and emphasize the turbulent ambivalence of the original. “Like A Hurricane” becomes an intimate, piano ballad. By changing the tense from present to past and stripping the song of its rock roots, Harvey creates an emotional impact missing from Neil Young’s original. On “Demolition” Harvey replaces Ed Kuepper’s funereal drums with an off-kilter drum machine that clatters like an old projector to evokes the disconnections inherent in the lyrics. Harvey’s treatment of songs from The Saints, Lee Hazelwood, Lo Carmen and Marlene Dietrich are beautifully rendered. A wonderful summation of Harvey’s often underrated talent and an album that deserves a wider audience.

Andrew Forell

I Like To Sleep — Bedmonster’s Groove (All Good Clean Records)

This combo from Trondheim, Norway started out bridging the sound worlds of Gary Burton and Sleep. That’s a canny move if you’re looking for relatively untrodden ground, and as it turns out, a successful one. On Bedmonster’s Groove, which is album number four, the trio has dialed back the heaviness; you won’t hear a power chord until the beginning of side two. Instead, they have taken a turn towards experimentation. The microscopic applications of filters and effects give confer a variable glitter to Amund Storløkken Åse’s vibraphone, squeezable padding to Nicolas Leirtrø’s six-string bass, and some texturable variety to Øyvind Leite’s drums, which are all shown to good effect by some lean grooves and uncluttered melodies. Åse has also added some instrumentation; synths flicker and swirl in the empty spaces, and a mellotron heads a deliberate charge towards prog territory.

Bill Meyer

Kriegshög—Love & Revenge (La Vida Es un Mus)

Throughout the long existence of Kriegshög, it’s been customary to identify the band as a d-beat act. Love & Revenge is Kriegshög’s first release since 2019 and only its second LP in their (at least) 16 years of playing in and around Tokyo. Prolific, they ain’t, but the music is always worth waiting for. On this new record, the band rolls back the pace a bit and amps up the crusty, metal textures. Less squall and rampant chaos, more muscle and riffs that roll up in well-worn biker leathers — but all those qualifiers are relative. There’s still a raw edge to the production (if that’s the term we want…); the bass is laced with so much fat crackle that you’ll want to fry it and eat it. Sort of fun that one of the most volatile tunes on Love & Revenge is titled “Serenity.” Make of that what you will, but don’t spend too much time thinking about it. You’ll miss the next couple songs.

Jonathan Shaw

Niels Lyhne Løkkegaard and Quatuor Bozzini — Colliding Bubbles: Surface Tension and Release (Important)

Niels Lyhne Løkkegaard is a composer based in Copenhagen. On his latest EP he joins forces with the premiere Canadian string quartet for new music, Quatuor Bozzini, to create a piece that deals with the perception of bubbles replicating the human experience. In addition to the harmonics played by the strings, the players are required to play harmonicas at the same time. At first blush, this might sound like a gimmick, but the conception of the piece as instability and friction emerging from continuous sound, like bubbles colliding in space and, concurrently, the often tense unpredictability of the human experience, makes these choices instead seem organic and well-considered. As the piece unfolds, the register of the pitch material makes a slow decline from the stratosphere to the ground floor with a simultaneous long decrescendo. The quartet are masterful musicians, unfazed by the challenge of playing long bowings and long-breathed harmonica chords simultaneously. The resulting sound world is shimmering, liquescent, and, surprising in its occasional metaphoric bubbles popping.

Christian Carey

The Ophelias — Ribbon EP (self-released)

Ribbon is stormy, scathing and often quite beautiful. “Soft and Tame,” the EP’s emotional center, is all three. It begins wistfully: easy acoustic guitar strums and Andrea Gutmann Fuentes’ layered violin, nostalgic and close to sweet. Vocalist Spencer Peppet also starts slow, talking us through the aimless sensory motions of missing someone – “the sun on my cheek/as I walk around/I pick up a pear/I put it down/the radio plays a song we loved.” It doesn’t take long, however, for the skies to darken and the scene to become bleaker. By the line “the hollow sound/my jugular makes as it rolls around,” Mic Adams’s foreboding drums and a percussive creep of electric guitar have stalked in. And by the time Peppet has shown us “an overturned bus on the highway,” heard a“tornado warning” and told her subject to “stay the fuck away” for the second time, the band has built to a blown-out, climactic frenzy, the violin finding operatic heights over mammoth cymbal crashes.

In her review of The Ophelias’ last album, Crocus, Jennifer Kelly described Peppet as sounding “like she’s tilting her chin up and squaring her shoulders.” Likewise on Ribbon, where the band seems resigned to but also quite prepared for a fight. If “Soft and Tame” is aimed to knock “love in southern Ohio” down for good, then “Rind,” the final song, may tell us why they’re in the ring at all. At a brief break in the dynamic, flowering arrangement — it could be a particularly bucolic Magnetic Fields instrumental, especially in Gutmann Fuentes’ spry riffs — Peppet bursts out, “There you go!/On tour with my hometown friends/fucking score/they must have all forgotten!/Look back at what I tolerated.” There’s more to the story, but Peppet pulls back from the fray, settling things ominously: “to name it/makes your life/a little complicated.” Whatever “it” is, The Ophelias seem to have landed their punch. I don’t think I’ve heard more cutting, triumphant “Oohs” than those that end the song and Ribbon’s multifaceted fury with it.

Alex Johnson

Paperniks — Oxygen Tank Flipper 7-inch (Market Square)

Jason Henn is a master of catchy psychedelic punk. Honey Radar, his highest profile outfit, has unfurled a constant stream of hook-laden gems for well over a decade. Paperniks is his newest guise, a solo home recording project that amplifies the Guided by Voices meets Syd Barrett vibe of Honey Radar and doses it with nuggets of guitar noise. This tiny slab of wax is the sophomore Paperniks outing, following a single-sided lathe cut that strayed toward the clamorous edge of the octopus’s garden. On display are a pair of tunes that bear a striking resemblance to Honey Radar. “Oxygen Tank Flipper” is a groovy dose of psych replete with a catchy riff and a roller coaster bassline. Handclaps up the catchiness factor, as does Henn’s honey sweet sigh. “Essex Poem Dial” is a punky, garage-inspired tune. Henn’s reverb-soaked vocal hides inside the propulsive guitar chime. A noise interlude leads to a mellow vignette that slowly fades away. Paperniks showcases Henn’s boisterous side, and the music is certainly engaging, so hopefully there are more songs on the way soon.

Bryon Hayes

Ribbon Stage — Hit with the Most (Perennial/K)

Ribbon Stages hits the giddy sweet spot between punk and pop, their raucous guitar-drums-bass racket pounding on sweet, wistful little songs. The mixture varies with some cuts veering into the snaggle-toothed dream pop of, say, the Jeanines, while others rage harder and more dissonantly. “Stone Heart Blue,” the single, pulls the drums way up in the mix and lets distorted guitars and murmured vocals do battle attention behind them. The result is an uncanny balance of urgency, angst and solace, which is exactly what you want from pop-leaning punk. “Hearst” pushes slashing tangling guitar racket up to the foreground, letting a billowing squall spill over crisp drums and shout-sung vocals, while “Sulfate” lets a sighing romantic croon loose over boiling lavas of rock mayhem. Nice.

Jennifer Kelly

Rio Da Yung OG — Rio Circa 2020 (Boyz Ent)

This is exactly what the title says: a compilation of Rio songs stashed on the label’s HDD, no more, no less. No filler but no hits either. The tape has a “Circa 2020” feel to it, reminding us of when Rio did what he wanted with no shades of doom hanging over the songs. It’s unlike the music he wrote after the trial when he knew he had to do some time. There’s a little bit of everything in here: three songs with RMC Mike, two tracks featuring Louie Ray, a song on a Sav beat, a song on an Enrgy beat and a song on a Primo beat. Yet it’s hardly enough to last us until Rio is free.

Ray Garraty

Spirits Rejoice—S-T (Fredriksberg)

Spirits Rejoice! by Spirits Rejoice

A remastered reissue of a 1978 recording, Spirits Rejoice captures boundary-crossing South African jazz scene, which touches on fusion, rock, funk, soul, disco Latin and African sounds. The ensemble includes some of that time and place’s pre-eminent jazz musicians, Sipho Gumede of the fluid, loping bass lines, breezy, insouciant reeds-man Robbie Jansen, South African pioneering percussionist Gilbert Matthews, keyboardist Mervyn Africa and a very young Paul Peterson on electric guitar. The music is ebullient and clearly tilted towards pop accessibility, and the gleaming sheen of 1970s often dilutes its heat and fury. This is especially true on “Happy and in Love” which could double as a lost Earth Wind and Fire cut. Elsewhere, though, as in “Woza Uzo Kudanisa Nathi,” fervid polyrhythms, tight squalls of sax and an exhilarating call and response light up the groove, fusing African chants with a swaggering samba rhythm. And “Papa’s Funk,” is just what it sounds like—a slithery, stuttery, visceral bass-led swagger that bubbles and smolders and twitches in a universal funk.

Jennifer Kelly

Various Artists — GmBH: An Anthology of Music for Fashion Shows 2016 – 2023, Volume 1 (Studio LABOUR)

GmbH: An Anthology of Music for Fashion Shows 2016-2023 Vol. 1 by Various Artists

LABOUR is a multimedia project of Iranian musician Farahnaz Hatam and American percussionist/composer Colin Hacklander. Based in Berlin, the duo has collaborated widely and eclectically to produce soundtracks for sustainable, underground fashion house GmBH. This compilation collates 12 examples and showcases a variety of work from an international roster of artists including Iraqi-British oud player Khyam Allami, Turkish born DJ Nene H, Kuwaiti musician Fatimi Al Qadiri, American performance artist MJ Harper and Indonesian noise duo Gabber Modus Operandi. The thread that runs through all this is cross pollinations between genre, geography, and chronology. Allami’s oud plays against LABOUR’s electronic washes and synthetic percussion with each element emphasizing and interrogating differences in modality and structure. On “White Noise” LABOUR contrast a 16th century harpsichord piece with static and effects dissolving into a robotic club beat which ends up evoking a cyborg Hooked on Classics. Their collaboration with Harper on the spoken word “ablution” is a reflection on love, religion, and abnegation with elements of gospel, eastern and creeping doom ambience. The Anthology has much of interest but is essential for Belgian composer Billy Bultheel’s “YLEM” featuring German countertenor Steve Katona who soars incandescent from a backdrop of industrial grind. The contrast between earthly weight of the music and radiant purity of the voice is breathtaking.

Andrew Forell

Vertonen — taif’ shel (Oxidation)

taif' shel by Vertonen

Give the Oxidation label credit for radical truthfulness. One of the bummers of our time is the frequency with which folks on BandCamp and elsewhere will call a short-run, blue or green-faced disc a CD when they are selling you a CD-R. Oxidation, on the other hand, is named after the process that will eventually render its products unplayable. On to the sounds. Vertonen is Blake Edwards, who has been working around the edges of sound for over 30 years. On taif’ shel, he displays absolute mastery over the combination of collected, electronically generated and carefully edited sounds. His skill rests on three qualities; knowing where to place sounds, knowing how long to let them carry on and having some pretty good ideas about which ones to use in the first place. He can make a drone of infinite (but never unnecessary) complexity, or punctuate flipping film-ends with a precisely situated, never repeated sequence of chops and splices, to name just two examples found on this impermanent but thoroughly rewarding disc.

Bill Meyer

Villagers — That Golden Time (Domino)

That Golden Time is Villagers’ sixth album. The Conor O’Brien led project presents its most eclectic outing to date. A number of the songs are afforded pop treatment, consisting of memorable tunes and gentle, polished arrangements. The double-tracked vocals on “First Responder” is a case in point, about a relationship fragmenting while the singing coalesces, an interesting tension. “No Drama,” initially pared down to piano and O’Brien’s laconic vocals, eventually adds a coterie of Irish traditional instruments. “Keepsake” veers closer to mid-tempo electronica, with overlaid synth repetitions and treated vocals. The title track employs sustained violin lines, played by Peter Broderick, and an intricate form with supple harmonic shifts. “Brother Hen,” on the other hand, recalls the folk influences present from Villagers’ beginning. The diversity is diverting, even though That Golden Time feels like a collection of singles instead of an album statement.

Christian Carey

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

➖ Mature content, 18+ ➖ check the trigger tags each time ➖      

Chapter 48 - Wedding Nights And Babies. Episode 3.

-----River's house------

Jackall: I guess that goofy look on your face means you definitely are doing it by now… good for you! I hear he's very big, and very capable of driving his stick he smiled cheekily

Evan: I felt myself blush Who told? I grunted as I realized only one could have told stories like that Daniel…

Jackall: Chuckled deeply Who else? He sipped his beer and nodded at me So, you're really deep in love huh?

River: Sighed deeply from somewhere inside his own world

Evan: I'm not sure River wants to hear about this?

Jackall: Oh no… the love part he doesn't care about… it's the sex part that makes him… weird…

River: Grunted I really don't care Jackall

Jackall: See he pointed at River and chuckled so you are in love with Congo, right? And here I mean like really deeply in love, not just high school girl in love…

Evan: I nodded softly Yes Jackall… I am I sipped my coffee and hoped no more questions would follow

Jackall: And he is in love with you just as much?

Evan: I groaned deeply I guess so…

Jackall: So what are you doing here among the roaches?

Lily: Hey man! I'm here too you know… I'm a bit offended I have to say she chuckled softly

Jackall: Laughed loudly If you out of free will can live here… in this mess… and not be bothered by it, it must mean you're just as fucked as the rest of the residents of this household. So yes, you my dear pretty girl, are a roach too.

Evan: I chuckled softly and sipped my coffee, and observed River who seemingly now had gotten lost in a track on the record that had been playing the last 30 minutes

River: Hm… he tilted his head and looked at the record player, contemplating something no… He slowly got up I don't care much for this track. He slowly made his way to the record player and skipped the song, nodding agreeing as the next track started playing: ffffffffff bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbzaaaa` He quickly made his way to Lily, reaching his hand towards her Dance with me, me lady.

Lily: She chuckled softly, grabbed his hand, and together they made it to the middle of the floor. Dancing together, getting lost in the music. I was kinda relieved they knew they were siblings, cause the way they were dancing was borderline incest. Strange for someone like River. The least sexual person I know. But somehow, they made it work. Maybe because it after all wasn't sexual at all.

Evan: I grabbed my phone in front of me and saw it had died, grunting softly

Jackall: What?

Evan: I sighed softly My phone has died… which means Congo probably is worried sick by now. Can I borrow your phone, just to check Facebook?

Jackall: Sure he pushed his phone over the table

Evan: Yes, as I feared Congo had left a worried message on my wall. I rubbed my forehead gently

Jackall: Evan… it's fairly simple. You need space. Time to digest. But you also need him. Them. Go home. Figure it out. You're not gonna figure it out by sitting here starring at River doing whatever it is River does. Us… you don't really need to figure us out. There's not much to figure really. We are both broken in each our way, and so are you. So is everyone. We will be here when you have the energy for us. Go home and figure the other stuff first. Be there for Andy, and let Congo be there for you. And dare to dive some more into it. I'm sure you wont regret. He sounds like a great match for you. So what the hell are you doing here, on this dirty kitchen chair? Go home, Evan!

Evan: Not the greatest peptalk ever, but it woke something in me. I got up from the chair fast, smiled at him, and ran out the door. Quickly got up on my bike, and within 10 minutes I was driving up our mountain, smiling bright as I turned the corner leading straight to our house, seeing it become bigger and bigger as I got closer. My heart was pounding fast. I had to be with him. Right now. The love for him was pounding through my veins, making me chuckle behind my helmet. And then, ice. It came so fast I didn't get to react. I just felt the bike disappear under me, as I was sent gliding over the road. A loud bump was all I heard, as my bike crashed into the garage door, then my eyes were turned towards the dark night sky above me, white gentle snowflakes floating towards my face

Congo: EVAN!!!

Evan: I heard his footsteps pound the ground as he ran towards me and kneeled down next to my face

Congo: Are you okay? his voice was terrified and I heard him sniffle his nose as he slipped a hand under my back head

Evan: I nodded softly as I looked up at him

Congo: Can you move?

Evan: Yeah I nodded again and felt tears in my eyes

Congo: Are you in pain?

Evan: I shook my head lightly and grabbed on to his upper arms as I dragged myself up to sit No… I chuckled nervously and looked around for my helmet that had come off in the fall I landed pretty soft I padded my hand on the snow beneath me

Congo: You gave us quite a scare! You sure you aren't hurt? Are you dizzy?

Evan: No… I'm fine….

Congo: He placed his hands on my cheeks and planted a loving kiss on my forehead I was so worried about you! Where have you been?? I'm so sorry if I pushed you too far. Maybe if we just..

Evan: I sobbed loudly as my nerves from the crash hit me, pressing my face against Congo's chest I'm sorry! I'm so fucking sorry I left you here to worry! I don't know why I left! I can't even remember what we argued about! It was so fucking stupid! I'm just so stressed out! I feel I have no time to catch up with everything! I feel drained and weak. I feel so tired I could sleep for weeks! I'm so happy and thankful for the babies, but I can't even enjoy it! I'm so scared! I want them so much, but at the same time it terrifies me we don't know when they will arrive… I just I coughed as my sobbing got worse

Congo: Shhh shhh he wrapped his arms around me tight Evan… I don't have enough clothes on to sit out here… hold on to me

Evan: I did as he said, and he slowly lifted me up

Andy: Shit is everything alright? We were so fucking worried!

Evan: I turned my head slowly and looked at Andy and Lenny few meters from us

Congo: His voice was warm and soothing Yes… everything is fine, he's just pretty shaken up. The snow thankfully broke the fall. I just want us to get inside before we catch a cold… you should too…

Andy: He nodded agreeing and smiled softly at me I'll watch a movie with dad…

Lenny: I'll just pick up the bike and get it into the garage.

Congo: Thank you Lenny, I would appreciate that. He planted a soft kiss on Andy's lips, then Andy planted one on my cheek. And few minutes later Congo and I were safe and warm, laying in bed, naked, cuddled up with a movie on the big tv. I was safe in his arms, snuggling my head against his chest I have told Andy to stay here, I hate when he's away, even if it's only next door with Daniel. Specially now when he's pregnant, I prefer him to be as close as possible.

Evan: I nodded softly Me too…

Congo: He kissed my forehead softly I understand you need space and time to digest it all. So I have told Andy the next few days, you and I will stay down here, until you feel a bit better, until you feel you can cope better. He is not banned from the room, but I told him to give you space. And Andy himself added that he wants to give us space to get comfortable in this relationship. He wants us to just be Evan and Congo for a few days. If that's alright with you?

Evan: I smiled shyly I would very much like that.

Congo: Me too he smiled warmly and planted a soft kiss on my lips Lenny will stay here with him. And I'm sure we can both figure Daniel will come running at some point. But we will stay here, you and I, as much as possible. It has been almost 3 weeks since the wedding, and neither you or I have had time to catch much break. I could really need some time to catch up as well. I will still go with Andy every time he needs to have check ups, but beside that, as long as the pregnancy is calm and he doesn't feel it much, I will stay here… with you.

Evan: I smiled bright and felt tears in my eyes again

Congo: Is that happy tears? He chuckled softly and planted a gentle kiss on my nose

Evan: I nodded softly

Congo: Good… that's good… that was the reaction I was hoping for. Evan…

Evan: Yeah?

Congo: I love you very much, and I'm very thankful you came home.

Evan: I love you too I leaned upwards and kissed him lovingly

Congo: May I ask where you went?

Evan: To see the roaches.

[wolfasketch]

introducing Tiger Claw's and Ophelia's triplets, Sho, Shaw and Sha

Ages are;

Tiger Claw: 45

Ophelia: 42

Triplets: 16

[oldpaintings]

Ophelia, ca. 1900 by Byam Shaw (English, 1872--1919)

[kyoukamybeloved]

Yet again, Chuuya wouldnt get out of my sight today. I wish he would get out of my sight. Needless to say, I don't want to have to look away first.

more soukoku webweaves: 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 , 9

this is the tenth soukoku web weave of mine and I made it on my birthday when I was in a real taylor swift mood so enjoy this skk and swiftie brainrot

creds :

love lines - Olga Broumas// art by @taxolotl // exhibits from the water american museum - Natalie Diaz// peace - Taylor Swift// cowboy like me - Taylor Swift// art by @twilicidity // wishbone - Richard Siken// art by @liyv // spellbound - Ophelia Silk// love opened a mortal wound - Sor Juana Inès de la Cruz// david foster wallace// high infidelity - Taylor Swift// the archer - Taylor Swift// we were that joke - Gregory Orr// art by @taxolotl // litany in which certain things are crossed out - Richard Siken// is it over now? - Taylor Swift// the story of us - Taylor Swift// the becoming of Noah Shaw - Michelle Hodkin// art by @thornedarrow // south and west - Joan Didion// art by @lotus-pear // wishbone - Richard Siken// long live - Taylor Swift// ivy - Taylor Swift// portrait of a boy with grief - Wale Ayinla// the chronology of water: a memoir - Lidia Yuknavitch// art by @thornedarrow// Andrea Dworkin// bigger than the whole sky - Taylor Swift// ‘tis the damn season - Taylor Swift// a love letter to a dead thing - Layana Clouet// art by @twilicidity// art from @/mizumoe_ on twitter// august - Taylor Swift// is it over now? - Taylor Swift// souvenir - Warsan Shire// don’t blame me - Taylor Swift// cruel summer - Taylor Swift// the waves - Virginia Woolf// art by @carrotkicks //

tags:

@philzokman @dinosaur-mayonnaise @amagami-hime @the-gayest-sky-kid @galaxitic @ghostsinacoat @gorotic @lotus-reblogs @vivid-vices @zamxii @autistic-ranpo @pendragonstar @sskk-brainrot @oatmilkbasic @underthetree845 @thesunshinebard @whiteapplesandblackblood @sigskk @pastel-paramour @vinylbiohazard @jacuzziwaters @sommmee @evermorehypewoman

[la-femme-au-collier-vert]

IWTV Season 2 Sources & References

(The 1st 4 were cited by the Writer’s Room)

The Ethnic Avante-Garde: Minority Cultures and World Revolution by Steven S. Lee

Paris Journal 1944-1955 by Janet Flanner (Genet)

The Vampire: A Casebook by Alan Dundes

Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles: An Alphabettery

The Fly cited by Jacob Anderson

King Lear by Shakespeare cited by Rolin Jones

Melmoth the Wanderer by Charles Maturin

Sebastien Melmoth by Oscar Wilde

Amadeus (1984)

The Lost Boys (1987)

Gaslight (1944)

Batman

Casablanca (1942)

Now, Voyager (1942)

The Third Man (1949) cited by Levan Akin

An American in Paris by George Gershwin (1928) cited by Daniel Hart

Moulin Rouge (2001)

The Phantom of the Opera

Les Vampires (1915)

Dracula (1931) credit to @vampchronicles_ on twt

Le Triomphe de L’amour by Pierre de Marivaux

Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin cited by Jacob Anderson

Existentialism is a Humanism by Jean Paul Sartre

Les Liaisons Dangereuses by Pierre Choderlos de Laclos

Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare

How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie

Hamlet by William Shakespeare

Vampire’s Kiss (1988) credit to @talesfromthecrypts

Les Morts ont tous le Meme Peau by Boris Vian credit to @greedandenby

The Most Dangerous Game by Richard Connell

Waiting for Godot by Samuel Barclay Beckett credit to @rorscachisgay on twt

An Enemy of the People by Ibsen

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

Vie de Voltaire by Marquis Condorcet

Simone de Beauvoir: A Critical Introduction by Edward Fullbrook and Kate Fullbrook credit to @iwtvfanevents

Nightwood by Djuna Barnes credit to @iwtvfanevents

Beloved by Toni Morrison

Artists and Salons Referenced:

R-26

Palma Vecchio

Andre Fougeron

Elsa Triollet

Fred Stein

Lisette Model

Gordon Parks

Miguel Barcelo

Taxidermied Javelina by Chris Roberts-Antieau

Ai WeiWei (wallpaper)

David Hockney (Lemons)

Wols 

The Kiss of Judas by Jakob Smits

Salome by Louis Icart

Ophelia by John Everett Millais

Shelter by Peter Macon

The Kiss by Edvard Munch

The Vampire or Love and Pain by Edvard Munch credit @iwtvasart

Ruiter on Horse by Reiger Stolk credit @ iwtvasart

Portrait of Frank Burty Haviland by Modigliani credit @iwtvasart

Self-Seers II (Death and Man) by Egon Schiele credit to @90sgreggaraki

The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters by Goya

Movie & Play Posters on set (in chronological order by year):

Tarzan and his Mate (1934)

Avec le Sourire (1936)

Les Deux Gosses (1936)

Le Jour Se Leve (1939) about a man who commits murder as a result of a love triangle and locks himself in his apartment recounting the details as the police attempt to arrest him. Credit to @laisofhyccara

Nuit de Décembre (1940)

Mademoiselle Swing (1942) about a girl who follows a troupe of swing musicians to Paris.

Les Enfents du Paradis (1945) about a woman with many suitors including an actor and an aristocrat.

Fantomas (1946) about a sadistic criminal mastermind. This version includes a hideout in the catacombs where he traps people.

Quai des Orfevres (1947) watch here

Monsieur Vincent (1947)

Le Cafe du Cadran (1947) about a wife’s affair with a violinist.

La Kermesse Rouge (1947) film about a jealous artist who locks up his younger wife and a fire breaks out while she’s trapped.

Morts Sans Sepulture by Jean-Paul Sartre (play) also published in English translations as “The Victors” or “Men Without Shadows” about resistance fighters captured by Vichy soldiers struggling not to give up information.

Mon Faust by Paul Valery (play)

Musical Influences:: @greedandenby collected all music used in Season 2 here.

Henry Cowell

Meredith Monk

Howling’ Wolf

Shirley Temple

Jason Lindner Big Band

The Teeth

Carlos Salzedo

Alice Coltrane

Thelonius Monk

David Lang

Caroline Shaw

Gadfly by Shostakovich (for Raglan James)

musical career of Martha Argerich

Season 1 here (these lists are updated regularly)

Season 3 here

[hamletthedane]

I’m a big Hamlet fan and I am curious as to what your favorite movie/for screen rendition is? I’ve been working my way through a lot of them, gone through about 7, so far Hamlet at Elsinore with Christopher Plummer is my favorite. I was just curious what yours is !

What a great question!!

Hamlet at Elsinore is definitely my favorite filmed version of the play. I feel that Christopher Plummer does a fantastic - and frankly critically underappreciated - job of portraying the more nuanced and complicated aspects of Hamlet's character while still giving a straightforward performance that's highly accessible to any audience. Notably, he doesn't treat the performance as his ~*~epic, defining role of a lifetime~*~ or ~high artistic theater~ (*cough* Branagh and Jacobi), but instead focuses on telling a deeply compelling, very moving story about the complex nature of grief and revenge. I also like that this version embraces the more "postmodern" elements that exist in the written text of Hamlet: the complicity of the audience, the inevitability of the outcome, Hamlet's genre-awareness and genre-defiance, etc.

[Not to keep hating on Branagh, but in contrast: Branagh's Hamlet in particular seems to go out of its way to avoid including the more interesting proto-postmodern thematic elements of the play - at times not seeming to recognize that they're even there. He instead focuses his time and energy on inserting new cinematography-based visual themes that go nowhere and at times stand in OPPOSITION to the actual tone and themes of the original text. Because apparently Hamlet the play is too boring and instead of lame elements like "themes" and "compelling characterization," we need a swinging chandelier sword fight scenes and Freudian weirdness. Truly the Joel Schumacher Phantom of the Opera adaptation of Shakespeare films. But I DIGRESS-)

Plus it doesn't hurt that everybody aside from Plummer in Hamlet at Elsinore is also fabulous. Obviously, Michael Caine's Horatio is the single best and most definitive version of the character in film, but I also love Robert Shaw's Claudius and Muller's Ophelia.

If we're talking favorite filmed versions of the STORY of Hamlet though, that's Asta Nielsen's silent film from 1921. It's so beautifully filmed and wonderfully told. She's what I picture when I picture Hamlet.

Other than that....I like Tennant and Stewarts' RSC filmed version well enough. It has a number of very strange choices and I don't love the re-ordering of the scenes, but Tennant does a great job with the character and I think it's a very approachable performance. A few other filmed stage versions are also excellent, though with a few similarly weird elements - I'd put Maxine Peake's version on the same tier as the RSC version. I do NOT like Branagh's version at all (if you couldn't already tell...). Jacobi's and Gibson's are slightly better, but they're still too focused on the prestige of the performance rather than the actual story being told imo. I think they fall under the same criticism as Holden Caulfield's scathing review of Laurence Olivier: "more like a general than a sad, screwed-up type guy." (Yes I know this line is an in-text authorial critique of Holden himself but also: he's right and he should say it.)

If you haven't already, I do highly recommend listening to the BBC Radio 4 audiodrama version of Hamlet, starring Jamie Parker. Despite being a audio version of a stage play, it somehow blows every filmed version of Hamlet (except maybe HAE) out of the water. I listen to it at least once a year.

Finally, my actual favorite versions of Hamlet have ALWAYS been those I've seen live (or seen bootleg filmed stage performances of lmao). If it's ever playing live near you, definitely go and see it. The play was meant to be seen on a live stage in front of you, and many of the jokes and themes only make sense in that context. In my opinion, the medium of live theater elevates the play so far beyond what a movie could ever achieve.

...sorry this answer is so long 😅 Really, it doesn't matter what my opinions on Hamlet films are. If any version of the play really speaks to you - even if it's the accursed Branagh version - that is so awesome and makes me really happy people are engaging with the play in that way! (But since you're saying that HAE is your favorite so far, I will add that you have excellent, discerning taste ;))

[sketchmenot-art]

Beleth - Goetia Glamour

Drew my friend @maid-morphia / @petronella-dismay’s character Beleth! 🖤

Old vintage glamour shots have such a cool and ethereal feel to them, so I wanted to try drawing Beleth in that kind of portrait style!

Go check out Ophelia’s work! She’s an absolutely amazing artist with a really beautiful style!! ✨(^w^)✨

While working on this piece, I felt inspired by the song Nightmare by Artie Shaw! I love the vibe of this song~💜

Artie Shaw - Nightmare

Done with Clip Studio Paint EX October 2023

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

In case you don’t remember the actors’ characters:

Mark = Giyera

Parminder = Ellen Nadeer

Florence = Sinara

Enver = Daniel Sousa

Jeff = Deke Shaw

Mallory = AIDA/Ophelia

[scotianostra]

The Scottish actress Mary Ure passed away on April 3rd 1975.

Born in Glasgow in 1933, Eileen Mary Ure trained at the Central School of Speech and Drama and then began to appear in the London theatre from age 21 onwards, proving to be immediately successful. In 1956 she was cast in Look Back In Anger, a pivotal play of the 1950s, and transferred with the play to Broadway, where she received a Tony award nomination. In 1959 she appeared in the film version, opposite Richard Burton.

She married the writer of Look Back In Anger, John Osborne, after having begun an affair with him during rehearsals for the play. Things became strained with him not long into the marriage due to his affairs and she ended up in an affair herself with the actor Robert Shaw. In between some acclaimed theatrical performances she appeared in three films with Shaw, marrying him in 1963. It wasn’t until 1968 that she landed a role in a film that was a huge hit, appearing once more with Richard Burton in Where Eagles Dare.

Her last film role was in 1973. By that time she was struggling with alcoholism and marital problems. In 1975, after the opening night of a new London play, she overdosed on alcohol and sleeping pills (It’s not known whether this was deliberate). She died at the age of 42.

She may be a forgotten star but boy was she a looker, her big grey-green eyes were mesmerising, Mary Ure only starred in 9 films but she would have made many more, a star troubled but still one none the less, you can’t but wonder what she could have done had she lived longer.

She is remembered for many of the key female Shakespearean roles she played on stage, including Desdemona and Ophelia, and it’s a great shame that there’s no cinematic record of these performances. She also made a few appearances on TV shows on both sides of the Atlantic, Ironside being the one of most note.

[mercyisms]

wld love for u to expand on your thoughts about asian jewish mercymorn?? my beloved hater girl

(:<<<< i was delighted to receive this ask and rolled it around in my brain for days and days, even though the real answer is "i'm silly and i like to have fun." to preamble: very, very generally, i think it can useful to have fun with white characters in works written by white novelists. i think it can be a lot of fun, too, to see a fancreator re-interpret a work into a culture they know a lot about and bring out different textures or tensions. but i also think it’s fun to reconsider specific characters (sometimes especially the ambiguously raced ones) and tease out tensions that might feel interesting or ones that somebody without cultural context may have overlooked. i like resisting the idea that whiteness is the default or a neutral default.

though! on the flip side and despite routinely joking that augustine being canonically blonde is a hate crime against me somehow, i also recognize that, for example, augustine’s whiteness (or presentation towards whiteness) seems intentional and is doing work in the text. (when i joke about john always having one six foot plus blonde around, it’s funny! but it’s also reflecting something the text is engaging with with regards to race.) so, anyway, that man can stay white. but to speak, at last, to our beloved hater girl. i think the first thing that opened the door for me is one of the initial descriptions we get of mercymorn.

The face beneath the icy parti-coloured hood was a prim, virginal oval; much in shape and feature like the shape of a saint’s face in a portrait, or a death mask. The nose and jaw and forehead were all carven and serene, and therefore had the same indifferent dullness of a well-formed statue.

i am fairly certain tamsyn is consciously trying to evoke one of the infinitely funny and also very beautiful medieval paintings or sculptures of the virgin mary (etc.) (divine conception: difficult mode, am I right, lads?). but for me, the refrain of mercy’s oval face is a great example of a descriptor that isn’t exclusive to whiteness. very practically, when i started looking for references to make humble sketches of mercymorn, i first turned to michelle dockery (expressive eyebrows! a face that can be cold and severe but then melts into heartbreaking, childish expression!) and then more and more to (an aged down!) kim seo hyung. (for the record, when i make stabs at augustine, i am usually drawing on a richard ii era fiona shaw, with dashes of young peter capaldi and perennially ancient jeremy irons. recently, my go-to for cytherea has been ophelia-era—of course—helena bonham carter.) but it’s rooted in more than just me dicking around in procreate. the idea of an asian mercymorn became more compelling to me when i considered how that would change the texture of her character. to try and be as brief as possible, there, as you may well be v familiar with yourself, are longstanding stereotypes of (largely east and south, but it all gets homogenized) asian immigrants being depicted as cold and unfeeling robots, as excelling only at rote memorization and lacking critical thinking or social skills, as being dangerous or suspicious or obnoxious over-achievers, and as, depending on the day, being too sexy or utterly sexless. (i am not claiming any of these are unique to the very broad category of ‘asian,’ just setting the table.) and i think mercymorn becomes really compelling reinterpretation and rebuke to expectations if she is asian. because she is so many of those things: overachieving med school graduate; someone who (though she seems to have excelled at the magicky part) gift comes from stubborn, rote memorization; someone deeply repressed; someone who is told and believes herself to be unfeeling and inhuman (”Every time you’ve said that I did not understand the human heart, that I was unfeeling, that I only knew worship without adoration”)—but is also a disaster of emotions, despite it all, and is driven by incredibly messy emotions and whose skills (the memorization, the drive to overachieve, even the repression) come from this vast and terrifying well of emotions that even she can’t really look at head-on. before mercymorn, i don’t know that i had seen these tropes reworked in exactly this way or thought to rethink these stereotypes in this way, and so that’s some of what mercymorn-as-asian does for me. (obviously caveat that i’m very strongly drawing from a north american context and i totally confess to not knowing what stereotypes are present in new zealand! but anecdotally through friends in australia and england, these stereotypes certainly seem present throughout the globe, and i would not be surprised if they were also present in nz. but just recognizing that!) i also, personally, find this a lot more satisfying than just going off tamsyn’s canon sheet and being like, yeah, got it, isaac is the one canonical east asian. that’s nice! that’s lovely! but it doesn’t really do anything for me or the narrative. i’m not upset about it! but the lyctors, those who lived pre-ressurection and lived closest to john and carry some of their biases with them, are people who have been shaped by a society where race is very present. vs. the younger 10,000 years out gen who ostensibly (though of course they are in a text written here and now) live in a “post-racial” society, at least from what we see within the house system. (i mean, i say this, but then i also feel like... have u met east asian christian converts. there is some eighth house energy there is all i will say. so, again, i just like to have fun.) re: the jewish thing, i am a hater girl myself and cannot like catholics have anything not ever (hashtag joking, tbc) and a) would love for a foot in and b) as myself and others have pointed out, mercymorn would love to kvetch, she’d be so good at it, she understands it implicitly and she deserves to have a community to kvetch with and c) as i think the inciting post for this ask pointed out she’d be so good at saying ‘oy vey’ and d) idk i just think it’s even funnier if a lapsed jewish woman and a nun walk into a bar and then kiss. in general, i also feel a vested interest in opening the door for mixed race readings of characters and one’s that, again, reinterpret or add to the texture of that character’s presence in text and are done in a thoughtful, fun, interesting way. i could possibly say more but i think this is enough for right now!! maybe!!! sorry this took me so long!! uhh but that’s a taste into my thought process, anyway, for how i like to interpret and reinterpret les lyctores and specifically best beloved hater mercymorn m. nolastname i love u. it is (obviously!) not the definitive or only interpretation, but is the one that currently speaks deepest to my soul. but i do love to see all kinds of interpretations and reinterpretations of our beloved necro-cast.

[liminal-storage]

XV-The Devil

Prompt: Free Write

Characters: Shayl, Louis Marlowe

Warnings: Sleep paralysis, night terrors. Tapping into my own childhood affliction for this one~

The blinding fear always seems to strike in the dead of night.

Screams trapped in his chest, limbs stricken with the need to run and yet trapped in place, his body refusing to obey... Young Louis has been stricken with these terrors since he was five years old. Mama tells him that she used to have them too, and that they'll grow less frequent in time. All her cousins had them. Her parents, too. Everyone born into the Marlowe family and its branches must contend with them at some point. As far as she knows, even the woman responsible for their family's dreadful fate had terrifying nightly episodes as well. At least they know they aren't related to Shayl. Just another heirloom that miss Ophelia Shaw passed down.

Cygni talked him through the terror when he was only six. She taught him what to do. He walks through each step whenever he wakes like this, once the nightmares slip out of his fingers like icy tendrils to coil beneath his bed.

Tonight, he's woken by dreams of mutilated flesh and whispering voices, of colorful paper birds and many, many eyes. His screams in the nightmare translate to painful waking gasps, his own saliva a choking, burning obstacle. The dark of the star-shaped room smears into the dark of his own bedchamber. He can tell even behind closed eyelids.

"Hello, Louis."

Here, now, my Louis. First of all let's control your breathing. Count up to ten, then back down again.

He does so, just as he remembers his mother saying. One breath, then two, and then three. He coughs, but he's no longer choking on his own saliva, no longer gasping desperately for air. Four breaths. He can hear the thump of a crooked gait across the hardwood floor. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. The moment he can breathe again, the footsteps stop at his bedside.

"You look so much like your mother."

That's the way. Now let's focus on moving again. Don't open your eyes yet. Start with wiggling your fingers. Concentrate. One at a time, now.

It's a struggle. For a few frightful, frustrating moments, his fingers refuse to heed his command. Then he feels the twitch of his pinky and curls it in towards his palm. Next the ring finger, its movements stiff and stilted. He feels his middle finger tense, feels the sensation of something brushing over his forehead. His eyes remain shut. The middle finger curls in. Then the index, and finally his thumb. The muscles of his calf twitch violently and for just a moment, he feels like he's falling.

"Such a sweet boy. How cruel of your mother to keep you from me."

Keep going. Just as you're doing now. One by one, until you're sure you can move again. You know, it helped me to have a little light when I was your age. I might still have the special lamp grandpa Florian made for me... I can dig it out of storage and keep it in here for you.

He knows what he'll see when he opens his eyes. In those moments of uncertainty after waking, he fears that he may have dragged his nightmare into reality. He can smell the creature, the blood covering every limb which now smears over his quilts. The rot wafting off of him in a stinking cloud. Louis doesn't need to open his eyes to know that those countless eyes are all staring right at him, a few errant ones swiveling wildly out of control.

"Open your eyes, Louis."

Don't open your eyes yet. Feel the base of the lamp with your fingers. Press the switch. Turn your face towards the wall. Then, and only then can you open your eyes. Focus on the pattern of stars cast over the wall. Then, I want you to call for me, understand? I will come running for you, no matter how deep in dreams I am.

"I said open your eyes."

Louis moves as quickly as his addled state allows, hands darting out from under the covers to take hold of the small lamp upon the nightstand. It's lightweight, sturdy, and warm. He turns his face towards the wall, flips the switch, and opens his eyes. A pattern of constellations dances on his bedroom wall, mesmerizing and bright. He blinks away the sudden spots in his vision, and calmly calls out.

"Mama?"

The thing at his bedside shrieks as if he's thrown burning oil upon it.

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

➖ Mature content, 18+ ➖ check the trigger tags each time ➖      

Chapter 47 - Viva Las Vegas. Episode 5. I apologize for the shorter episodes, Tumblr is limiting texts posts again, and I literally have to cut a speech in half. 1st part here <- click

Evan (Continued speech to Andy): You are the shelter on a rainy day, and the stars at night, always reminding me, that even in the darkest of times, there's still magic in this world. And the name of that magic is Andy. And so I ask us all, to raise our glass, to my mate, Andy Shaw-Thompson, and together thank him, for always bringing little bits of fairy tales into our lives, turning the ordinary extra ordinary. And as our matching tattoos says, I promise to love you, ALWAYS, with no end, whether I share my feelings on my sleeve for everyone to witness, or cherish it behind closed doors. You, Andy, are more than a dream come true, you are my mate. My heart. My reason. Always. To Andy! I raised my glass, and smiled warmly as everyone followed. And as I drank, I took a deep breath through my nostrils, trying to make the tears in my eyes step back a bit, before I grabbed Andy's guitar I had hidden behind a table, and sat down on a chair. I cleared my throat once again Before everyone returns to whatever they were doing, I'd like to dedicate a song to Andy. I was never the big lyrics writer, and I was more than thankful when Andy let me borrow his lyrics book, for my bands upcoming CD. But this song is all me. I wrote it back in January this year, in the very beginning of what was to turn into our relationship. I was very confused, but at the same time very aware, my heart was beating for my best friend. The song is called ordinary… *I smiled softly at Andy, cleared my throat, and started playing*: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AE3hsWaNxM0

------Andy's point of view-------

Andy: It's safe to say my eyes were already wet from that speech, but as he started singing, the tears started streaming down my cheeks. This song, that he wrote, so long ago, for me. Probably never intending to even show it, let alone sing it to me. And here he was. In front of everyone. Declaring his love. The big gesture that no one had ever expected him to show. I could hardly believe it.

Congo: He smiled softly as he handed me a paper napkin

Andy: Thank you *I smiled softly and sniffled my nose, then returned my eyes to Evan. God! How can I be this lucky!*

------Evan's point of view-------

Evan: The song was well liked, and here a couple hours later, people were still complimenting me both on the song and my speech. I was honestly starting to get a bit uncomfortable with so much praising. So I was relieved when Congo dragged me away from Katherine and Lenny that once again had found me to tell me how proud and moved they were by my words, and how lucky they were to have me as a son in law

Congo: He pushed me gently around a corner and smiled softly You looked like you needed an escape goat?

Evan: I sighed relieved Yes… thank you… there's only so much I can take before it gets awkward I chuckled softly and sighed relieved yet again as Congo asked me if I wanted to go outside for some air. As we reached the outside, I took a deep breath. The night air was chilled, but not cold, and the stars were spread out over the night sky like a comforting blanket. We stood quietly, just observing our surroundings a few minutes, then suddenly, to my surprise, Congo stepped in front of me, quickly planting a hand on my lower back, and in the same moment pulled me in, as he placed a tender kiss on my lips. It took only a couple of seconds, but it was enough to make the butterflies in my stomach swirl up, and flutter around.

Congo: Sorry about that… he quickly let go of me and took a couple of steps away I just had to. It's hard to look at you a whole evening, not being able to be with you. He smiled softly and looked at the night sky. And we both stood like that a few minutes, quietly observing the world, before we returned to the party.

------Daniel's point of view------

Daniel: I laughed loudly to myself as I made my way back into the party. I couldn't believe I had finally caught Evan and Congo kiss… on camera! SWEET! I made my way to the bar while grinning satisfied at myself… now where were the drinks? Ahhh there! I grabbed the glass on the bar, sipping it. One drink to go please kind sir! I nodded at the bar as if there were a bar tender and turned around, looking at the dance floor, and people dancing on it. Lenny… boobs…. boobs… big boobs… HOLY SHIT! Is that Kat?! I made my way towards her fast, wiggling my hips as I stood in front of her, oh god those boobs are big! Care to dance Kat?

Katherine: Didn't we already dance twice? She chuckled warmly

Daniel: Yes but…

Katherine: Daniel, you're starring. Let me remind you it's impolite… you do remember I told you that earlier, right? She chuckled softly

Robert: Let me take care of that… I frowned softly as he grabbed my drink, and quickly passed it on to Lily Daniel, how about you and I have a dance? Before I could get to answer, he had already placed a firm hand on my lower back, pushing me further out on the dance floor

Daniel: Right… I had just hoped for more….

Robert: For more what?

Daniel: Boob action ya know Robbie I chuckled hoarse

Robert: Ahh… I see… but if you want he leaned closer and spoke into my ear I can have boobs too.. for you.

Daniel: What the schizzle mister drizzle?! Are you hitting on me Robbie?

Robert: Do you want me to be hitting on you?

Daniel: I gave him a cheeky smirk Well that depends if you are an 'all work, no play' type of guy, or if you're really gonna tab it if you get the chance?

Robbie: He chuckled warmly I have no idea what that means, but how about we start with a dance? He winked at me as he stood back straight

Daniel: I licked my lips cheekily We can certainly do that mon cheri.

-------Evan's point of view--------

Evan: *There are things in life we wish to see… and then there's things in life we wish we had never seen. My dad dancing with Daniel, to that specific song, was one of the things I would love to permanently delete from my memory bank: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xOQy2KQkO9M

Lily: She cheered her glass against mine and smiled softly at me I'm sorry Rose couldn't make it. I think she would have loved it.

Evan: I frowned softly and for some reason couldn't take my eyes of my dad and Daniel It's okay, she had to work.

Lily: Yeah… I just wish we could both have been here. She would love to see you THIS happy. It's honestly the happiest I have ever seen you little brother. I'm very very happy for you. Evan…?

Evan: Yeah?

Lily: It's like you don't even pay attention? She chuckled softly and shook her head What are you looking at anyway?

Evan: I frowned further and grunted softly as I sipped my Whiskey and nodded towards dad and Daniel

Lily: Oh!… holy shit! She coughed lightly and I watched as her eyes got wide It looks like they're gonna…

Evan: Do NOT finish that sentence, please!

Lily: Slowly started laughing, and as she went on, her laughter slowly grew louder and louder

Evan: Not funny Lily! The other day I walked in on him and Sparkle! I swear it's like having a hormone filled teenager running around!

Lily: She continued laughing quite a while, and it was clear to see she was tipsy

Evan: I frowned at her Fine, be like that… I'll go talk with someone else I shook my head and chuckled softly, then made my way to the buffet. I was hungry.

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Happy November! October was a month of excessive edits, so I thought it might be fun / good for my own brain to just make an edit round up list of everything I made this past month! Will I ever do this again? tbd, maybe so, ask me in 30 days!

Halloween Edits

Spencer Hargrove as the Final Girl

Greer Collier as the Bad Girl

Ophelia Wayne as the Final Girl

Rosabelle Legume as the Whore

Cassia Potter as the Cassandra

Stacey Byers as the Final Girl

Arianne Martin as the Opheliac

Verona Rosier as the Dead Girl

Caroline Fox in Barbie

Gilmore Girls OCs in The Craft

Gossip Girl OCs in The House On Sorority Row

Colton & Cece Cartwright in the Addams Family

Nikki Rogers in Van Helsing

Arianne Marin in Alice In Wonderland

Mercy Correira in a Horror Film

Sidney Hopper in I Know What You Did Last Summer

Betty Fabray in Carrie

Isla George in Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark

Verona Rosier in The Corpse Bride

Laura Hyde in Jekyll And Hyde

Ilsa Gilmore Danes in Hocus Pocus

Elle Winchester in Goosebumps

Kyla Keller as Cher Horowitz

Abi Claremont Diaz & Bea Fox as Romeo & Juliet

Betty Fabray as Sandy Olsson & Satine

Willow Dell & Lucas Gilmore as The Mystery Gang

Aurora Anderson as Wednesday Addams

Blossom & Ben as Belle & The Beast

Nikki Rogers as Taylor Swift

Kirsty Gilmore in Swan Lake

Caroline Fox & Alex Claremont-Diaz as Rapunzel & Flynn Rider

Emily Patterson & The Phantoms in The Wizard Of Oz

Savannah Evans as Janet Weiss

Jo Berry & Camilo Ayers as Kat Stratford and Patrick Verona

Vicki St James as Ginger Spice

Hillary Holliday as Barbie

Colton & Cece Cartwright as Veronica Sawyer & Jason Dean

Aurélia Agreste as Lydia Deetz

Dylan Efron & EJ Caswell as Cady Heron & Aaron Samuels

Ophelia Wayne & Leander Hayes as Elena & Zorro

OC Birthdays

Bethany Lance

Matilde Bourgeois

Alcyone St Stevens

Greer Collier

Aria Parker

Elizabeth Barton

Deborah Winchester

Fallon Parris Jones

Anastasia Andrews

Atalanta Jackson

Jacqueline Grant

Kirsty Gilmore

Lucas Gilmore

Josette Cobblepot

Aurélia Agreste

Savannah Evans (pt 1)

Savannah Evans (pt 2)

Pumpkin Spice Day

London Carter

Camila Nelson

Gabriel Branwell

Rebecca Wayland

Aislynn Deaton

Evan Mariano

Betty Fabray

Jo Berry

Isla George

Nikki Rogers

Cassia Potter

Anissa Radcliffe

Stacey Byers

Adina Lightwood

Callie Raeken

Willow Dell

Kyla Keller

Halley Shaw

Ophelia Wayne

Kirsty Gilmore

[weepingwidar]

Byam Shaw (British, 1872-1919) - Ophelia (1900)