#and she still burrows heavily from that aesthetic!

[gravelovd]

Navigating the Nora tag and I swear I seriously don’t know where so many mainstream fandom takes come from, man. 

[jobean12-blog]

hello my love!!! I wondered if I could request something sexy and fun!! I was thinking of reader and Bucky being in a new relationship, they haven't had sex yet and he invites her to sleep over at the compound one night. Reader has like a boob sore so she can't wear a bra and sleeps in her tank top. morning after, Bucky wakes up first and sees her boob has fallen out of her top, he was trying to remain a gentleman but after seeing that he wants her? Hehe i love you and thank you for everything❤️

Morning Glory

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 1,412

Summary: Spending the night at Bucky’s for the first time has you very excited and a morning surprise really moves the relationship along...

Author’s Note: Thank you for requesting this love! I had fun writing it and hope it makes you happy! This is real life and happens to me all the time, even when I wear those CK bralette thingies. Never fails. Now if Bucky was in my bed....well. haha! Love you! Thank you all for reading and much love always! ❤❤❤

Warnings: sweet fluff, light teasing and flirting, lots of kissing, Steve and Sam being themselves, implied sexy times :) 

Standing in your apartment you stare at your empty overnight bag, cursing your indecision. Bucky invited you to spend the night at his place, aka the Avengers compound, and you have no idea what to pack to wear for the night or bedtime or the next morning! You don’t normally sleep in a bra and you don’t want to just because you’re staying at his place. Rifling through your pajama drawer you find a cute blue tank top with matching boy shorts, deciding it works fine and will be comfy.

Stuffing it in the bag you search around for your toiletries, double checking you have everything you need before leaving. Bucky meets you outside and greets you with a searing kiss. It takes you a moment to catch your breath afterwards and you’re wondering how you’ll be able to control yourself when you share a bed tonight.

Bucky has been a gentleman from the moment you met and ever since you first starting dating, which wasn’t too long ago. It’s the first time you’ll be spending the whole night together and you’re feeling both excited and nervous. Of course, as soon as you’re in his presence you feel completely comfortable and happy.

The early part of your evening is spent cooking dinner together, Bucky suggesting you try to make a pizza. “Bucky, I’m not sure I can do the whole throw the dough in the air thing,” you say, staring down at the yeasty mixture. “Me neither but I’m gonna give it a try!” You giggle and step back watching as Bucky tries to pick up the sticky dough.

Once he has it in his hands, he gives you an apprehensive look before saying, “here goes nothin’!” He tries to throw it but fails when he doesn’t put enough force behind it. “Ok, here we really go,” he laughs. Bending his knees, he releases the dough. It flies just above his head, hovering for a split second before landing back on his hands and ripping.

Bucky stands in shocked silence and your hand flies over your mouth to stifle your laughter. He finally looks your way, his lips turning up into a smirk, “something you find funny, doll?” You can’t hold back any longer, bursting into a fit of giggles and pointing at him. “Oh my gosh, you should see your face!”

Bucky tries to wipe off his hands as best he can before he stalks over to you, caging you against the island with his arms. Your breath hitches at the closeness of his body and your hands instinctively reach out to smooth down his chest. “I wish I got that on camera,” you say, continuing to tease him, “and I think you have some dough in your hair.”

He leans his face close to yours, brushing the hair from your cheek, “hmmmm, I bet you do.” When his mouth meets yours you completely melt against him, a sigh falling from your lips as he parts them with his tongue. Running his thumb across your jaw he cradles your face in his hand, deepening the kiss just as a throat clears loudly behind you.

Bucky hesitantly pulls away, his eyes soft on you but then thunderous when they stare over your shoulder. “Rogers. You better have a good reason for interrupting us.” Steve raises his brows and chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest in a very Captain America way. “Hi y/n. Nice to see you again.” You give Steve a shy wave, “hi Steve, you too.”

“Actually, this time I do. I smelled something burning and figured I should check it out before the compound gets a shower.” Both you and Bucky spin to face the oven, the slight wisps of smoke starting to leak out the sides. “Oh shit,” Bucky shouts, quickly turning the oven off and alerting Friday that they have it under control. “THE COOKIES!” you yell in horror! “I can’t believe we forgot about them!”

Steve laughs first and you and Bucky can’t help but follow suit. “Well, if you didn’t have your tongues down each other throats you might have remembered,” Steve scolds before laughing again and walking off. “Ugh, I’m gonna kick him in his righteous ass,” Bucky mumbles.

Turning to you, he gathers you in his arms and says, “now, where were we,” pressing his lips to yours once again. You gently pull away just to ask, “what about dinner? And more importantly! Dessert!?” His nose scrunches as he smiles wide, “let’s just order a pizza and steal Sam’s Oreos. Yea?” You simply nod, leaning in to kiss him again.

“I heard you two were starting a fire in here!” Sam chimes from the doorway. Bucky groans, grabbing your hand and walking down the hallway without a word. “Hi y/n!” Sam says as he gives you his best smile. “Hey Sam! Good to see you!” you call out just before disappearing around the corner.

Bucky huffs as he shuts the door. “They can be such a pain in the ass sometimes!” You laugh and pull your phone from your pocket. “I’ll order the pizza; you snag the cookies and then we’ll have the rest of the night uninterrupted.” Bucky practically skips out the door when you start dialing for the pizza and only moments later you hear Sam yelling, “where the hell are you going with my Oreos?!?!”

Dinner is perfect and after eating a whole sleeve of Oreos dipped in milk you and Bucky settle in on the couch to watch a movie. Not even halfway through Bucky has you pinned to the couch, his lips devouring yours as his hands wander over your dips and curves. You moan into his mouth and he pulls away, breathing heavily when he speaks. “I want you so badly, but I want to do this the right way, you know.”

You’re barely able to manage the nod of your head, all your brain power gone with his strong body above you and his hands on your skin. You want to tell him you don’t care that you really like him and you’re ready to take the next step. But you don’t want to push him either, so you remain silent. He pulls you into his side, holding you close while you finish the movie.

It’s almost midnight and you stifle a yawn, snuggling closer into Bucky. “You ready for bed, doll?” You smile up at him, “yes, I think so.” You go into the bathroom to wash up and change. When you come out you watch as Bucky takes in your appearance, his jaw clenched tight and his eyes dark. “You’re not making this easy you know.” He plants a sweet kiss to your lips before he goes to change.

You get in bed and burrow under the covers, loving that you’re surrounded by his smell. He gets in soon after, pulling you against his chest and nuzzling his face into your neck. “I’m really glad you’re here baby girl. I love having you in my bed.” Throwing your leg over his you mumble into his chest, “me too, Buck.”

Morning arrives and you slowly wake up, the warmth of Bucky’s body still close as you stretch and yawn. You feel a slight chill at your chest, moving to pull the blanket further up your body but stopping short when you brush bare skin. Cracking open your eyes you look down and to your surprise see that your tank top did little to hold things in place while you were sleeping.

Bucky’s sharp intake of breath catches your attention and you look over to find him staring. “Morning beautiful,” he whispers, licking his lips. “Hi,” you say quietly, smirking at how hot and bothered he looks. “Sorry, I don’t usually wear a bra to sleep.” Bucky doesn’t say anything, he just keeps staring and you can see his internal struggle.

You slowly get up, fixing your shirt and running your hand over the hardness that is evident under his boxers. “Meet me in the shower in 2?” you ask sweetly, lightly brushing your lips to his. He practically falls out of the bed, the sheets tangled around his legs as he stumbles forward. “Fuck yes, doll. I can’t wait.”  You saunter to the bathroom, knowing full well half your ass cheek is hanging out of your boy shorts. Bucky’s low growl carries across the room, your smile triumphant just as you turn on the shower.  

@aesthetical-bucky @auro-ora @azurika-writes @buckys-broody-muffin @book-dragon-13 @bugsbucky @bucky-on-my-mind @devynsdiary @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @hawksmagnolia @hailmary-yramliah @imgaril-lindru @ikaris-whore @itsunclebucky @jhangelface0523 @loricameback @jewels2876 @littleredstarfish @littledarlinhavefaithinme @mushyjellybeans @metal-armed-cuddly-dork  @marvelgirl7 @marvelandotherfandomimagines @nano--raptor @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @softpeachbarnes @scarletsoldierrr @the-wayward-robot @when-the-hell-is-bucky

[project-ohagi]

Dabi x Reader

Buy me a coffee!! <3

Greyromantic: Can experience romantic attraction, but weakly or infrequently; feeling alienated from romance; only feeling attraction in specific circumstances.

Asexual: Having little/no sexual attraction or interest in sexual activities.

Questioning: Process of exploration regarding gender, sexual orientation, sexual identity.

----

The phenomenon of love is a complex, chemical concoction that has long been weaved into the fabric of our society. It is presented as a requirement, with those who find the concept either too challenging to thoroughly comprehend, or lacking in appeal, branded as anomalies. In its pursuit of normality, it quickly alienated those whose hearts just couldn't conform. In a different society, one not quite so dominated by this 'normality' of romantic and sexual interests...you might be forgiven for your limited knowledge. But this one...it seems to blanch at the very idea that happiness can be attained in the absence of romantic attraction.

As such, those identifying along the Aromantic or Asexual spectrums are often overlooked - even shunned. But, the greatest truth of it all is a lot simpler than you may expect: an emotion as profound as joy cannot be induced solely by succumbing to carnal desires, or tasting the lips of another. No...it is through self-acceptance, and the acceptance from those for whom your heart beats - parents, siblings, friends...and perhaps in this manner, the meaning is amplified.

But...what happens when you are forced into complacency, into setting aside your own interests, to 'further evolution', or to 'finally be normal'?

You were still trying to figure this out.

Who were you...really? Why couldn't you summon an emotion as free and universal as love?...Romantic love? Why did it seem so incomprehensible, so...intangible? These were the thoughts you battled with, every waking moment. They burrowed deep into your mind, so that you could never pull them out. They were elusive, yet...constant, nagging.

Why am I so different? Everyone else has crushes...even Toga likes that one UA boy! Ah, yeah...she asked me if I have someone I love. I just said "No". Saying: "I don't even know what 'love' is" seems a bit...she'd definitely call me weird. Then the others would probably laugh at me...

You felt...incomplete, like a jigsaw puzzle with only half the pieces. You felt the isolation, suffocating you. It hadn't been a conscious decision. You didn't awaken one morning and think 'You know what? This whole 'love' thing? It just isn't for me! ' You craved a connection, a bond of some kind - holding hands...a hug at most. Anything more was frightening to imagine. What if someone...pressured you? Or stole a kiss, as an offhanded action? You couldn't bear it...not even the mere thought. It was likely the main contributor to your chronic anxiety and paranoia. Your treatment at the hands of society, the ridicule and the fear of phrases such as "It's just a phase!" or, "You need to find the right person!"...they fuelled the flickering spark of villainy in your eyes.

After all, outcasts and monsters are interchangeable to most common folk.

But you didn't want those labels. You were a lost lamb, wandering aimlessly - what you really needed was guidance...someone who would listen and advise, someone who would accept you and every burden you carried, without question or quandary. But you said nothing...so you got nothing in return. Dabi was the closest to a...a source of strength? Motivation?...Potential love interest? But...how would you ever truly know? How could you discern the romantic from the platonic? It seemed impossible - simply a waste of time. Still, you never fully resigned to this fate of...loneliness.

You wanted to cherish, and to be cherished.

You wanted to love, and to be loved.

Perhaps it was the unyielding voice of fear, of desperation and pain, but...you just didn't know! You didn't know...and, it was difficult. You studied Dabi's face, and while nothing immediately heated your cheeks, he wasn't...unattractive. Aha! Maybe that was love? Alas, you discovered it to be more aesthetic attraction. It was a little disappointing, but perseverance should've been the key, right...?

Why? Why do I feel so little? Dabi is there for me, right? So surely if anyone, I should love him!...Do I love him? How can I tell? Is there some sort of test? How would a test even be administered? What kind of questions would I have to answer? I don't think I could answer them, even with study. If I'm struggling so much now...

And anyway...Dabi was a dominant male, whose sexuality was unclear. Even if you managed to settle on a definition of 'love', and figure out what role it played in your life...there was no guarantee that Dabi would want you. The jury was still out, on your gender - 'questioning' was your placeholder for the moment. But, you usually dressed masculine...would he be okay with someone so indecisive? Someone who might be neither male nor female? And, what if...what if he wasn't the one?

Say I can find love, and I start to understand it...who's to say that the person I love will be Dabi? It could be anyone! Maybe they were right, and I just haven't met the right person...but, I kind of want it to be Dabi? Is that...bad? Oh god, it sounds so selfish! He'll just be tied down, and if we find out that I don't actually love him...what would he do? At the very least, he'd be angry...

Dabi...the more you recalled his honey-laced voice, all the flirting you failed to notice until it was pointed out (clearly, he was doing that in jest), and those blue eyes (steely from years on the run, that probably depleted the pools of guilt and regret often accompanying mass killings, thievery and other criminal acts), the more confusion festered. You just didn't understand! Was it love? Or was it conversion? Were you trying to become 'normal'? Well, as normal as a villain could be...? Or did Dabi really mean something...something greater than you believed? Something...beyond what you currently knew?

This journey of self-discovery had approached a torturous junction.

Why were relationships so sought after, so expected? Even you desired one. How else could you ever hope to form a deep bond, or receive that fabled 'feeling of ecstasy' from holding hands or hugging? If there was no romance, mainstream media would lead you to the conclusion that there isn't a 'proper' or 'deep enough' connection - there can't be. You wanted to experience these things with Dabi. No-one else. You couldn't explain why. He was...an unusual character, mysterious and with perhaps a similar level of complexity as the daunting questions you were asking yourself. But mentioning your plight to him simply wasn't an option. Villains were responsible for themselves; the League was nothing more than a safety net.

Besides, Dabi was heartless.

...Or so he liked to be portrayed.

Urghhh...why is this so complicated? How am I supposed to know if I love him? The signs are...increased heart rate and blood to the face, right...? That seems unhealthy...is that actually supposed to be a good thing??

"Hey, you stopped spacing out yet, (V/n)?"

Shit! No, no, no! I haven't finished spacing out!

Sheepishly, you turned in the direction of the voice. Why did Dabi always seem to materialise out of thin air, whenever you thought about him? Did you magic him here, by accident? Subconsciously? However you managed that...you hated it. Your existential crisis really didn't need a spectator. Break out the popcorn, why don't you?

Can't I have a break down in peace? Wait...am I even in my room?...Did I seriously question my entire existence right here in the bar? It's a good thing there's no-one else here...I don't need more people telling me that I'm crazy...

You sighed. "...Yeah."

His brows furrowed - this was unfamiliar territory. Helping people had never been his speciality, especially given his own trauma . But for you...it was certainly worth a shot. "What's up? You on your man-period or something?"

Off to a spectacularly dreadful start. "I - I don't know if I'm a man, though...how could I-"

"Relax, it was a joke. Your pronouns are they/them, right? I'm not gonna call you a man just for the sake of argument. Nah...Hey, scoot over." A for effort.

"You could sit literally anywhere else."

He smirked. "You gonna stop me, sweet-cheeks?"

Sweet...?

"Thought not. Anyway, what's going on? You've been all doom-and-gloom for the past...two hours." He motioned over to the clock.

Had you honestly spent so long in contemplation? Gods, you could've unlocked the secrets of the universe, but no. "I've...kinda been asking myself that."

"Oh?" It was obviously a prompt, but talk of your romantic inclination (or lack thereof) would likely be regarded in the realm of 'stupid' and 'childish', so...could really you trust him?

I've always been too nervous to take risks...Guess now's as good a time as any to change that.

You swallowed down the uncertainties, the anxiety and everything in-between. They didn't help - they only hindered. And...you did need to release this burden, that weighed you down so heavily.

"Um...it's - it's...confusing. Really...confusing. I guess, I simple terms: I don't know what 'love' is. I know it probably sounds really dumb to you, and I feel stupid for even saying it, but...I've never...never had a crush, never been in love. I don't...I don't feel anything romantic towards, well...anyone!"

"Not even a bit?" He asked, blank-faced.

"I - I don't know. I really want to, though. I'm just...I'm scared. There's always this underlying fear of...what if - what if someone forces me? Y'know? What if...I date someone, and they can't accept that I'm different...that I might never feel anything for them? I don't want to be lonely forever, Dabi! I want someone, I really do! I say I've never been in love, but...the truth is, I just don't know! I know that I don't need to kiss someone. That's what I...what I don't want, but...I - I still want to hold hands with someone! I'd still like a hug, every once in a while...I don't know what I'm doing, or really...who I am."

For a few moments, he was silent beside you, just drinking in the flood of information. He refrained from reaching out, or gazing too intently. It took time to settle on an appropriate response. "You're looking at it as an issue, though - something you've gotta resolve, before you can move on. I'm not the best with advice, trust me...but I can tell you that it's a journey. It'll continue and evolve, as long as it needs to. You'll...probably know when you're ready, or...something. All that sappy crap. You don't have to force yourself to understand it all now."

I'll know...?

"When I'm...ready?" You repeated, eyes tracing the lines on your palm.

"Yeah...probably."

Just before you lost all coherency, a single thought fluttered to the forefront of your mind: My heart...just...skipped a beat?!

[Word Count: 1775]

[zephyrofalltrades]

Day 9: Possession

CW: Partial demonic possession, strangulation, self-harm, graphic depictions of demonic wounds, swearing

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Aziraphale tugged at the hem of his sweater vest looking at the old abandoned house at the side of the road.

“I like spooky-looking places remember?” Crowley said pulling out his camera from the back seat of his car. “Besides, this place is aesthetic - perfect for my photography class!” he grinned as he looked back at his friend.

“Yes, well, I also heard demons live there,” the blonde shivered.

“Demons aren’t real, angel. They’re just the construct of bed time stories and the magic of cinematography,” he hummed tying his long red locks so as not get caught in the camera straps. “Besides, we’ll be out of there before you could say 'tickety-boo',” he laughed.

"I've got supplies, just in case." Aziraphale piped up, taking out a crucifix, a rosary then a water pistol from his pockets. He patted the last with reverence. "Holiest of holy waters," he announced proudly. "From a bottle my parents got when they visited the Vatican then promptly forgot in a box in the garage."

Crowley bit his tongue from making a comment. He'll be damned if he'll ruin the blonde's fun. But he ought to show a little bout of annoyance to keep his image.

Crowley rolled his eyes at the paraphernalia, and held out the crucifix. "Planning to play as an exorcist dressed like that?" the red-head gestured to his cream sweater vest and tan trousers.

"Hopefully, it won't come to an exorcism," the other sniffed. "Which reminds me, give me your arm."

"Which one?" Aziraphale shrugged so he cast in his right.

The blonde took the rosary and wound it around a sinewy wrist, knowing that the red-head would cuss vehemently if he hung it around his neck. "There," he said with a wiggle. Crowley felt the charged contact and his brain was fried for a moment or two before his senses came back. Looking ridiculous was a small price to pay to keep his angel happy.

Soon they managed to finally step out to the door and let themselves in. It was a usual haunt for teens giving innocent dares or those with questionable hobbies. The graffiti was everywhere. 

“Oh demons! Come say 'hello!'” Crowley giggled as they entered.

“I don’t think you should do that, Crowley. What if it gets mad?”

“Aww, come on angel, the demon can’t get mad because it’s not real!” he laughed aloud, earning a huff from his friend.

After a few shots of the main rooms, the pair decided to venture down the basement. It had the standard level of spookiness with an added bonus of a crudely scribbled occultist's pentagram in one of the musty corners. He gave the blonde a mischievous look and proceeded to flop himself down unto the floor, torso in the middle of the drawing.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale hissed.

"Hey, demons!" the red-head called. "Come get me!"

"Oh dear, please don't…" his friend's voice trembled.

"It's just a bit of fun, angel," he complained, but got up anyway to dust himself off. "If there are demons, they ought to show themselves more if they want to be known. Waste of time to just keep hiding in the dark, if you ask me."

His left hand suddenly came up to slap his cheek.

"Shit! That stings! What the fu-" another slap.

"Crowley, what are you doing? Is this another one of your pranks?"

"This isn't me! This is -" The hand grabbed hold of his sunglasses and threw it against a wall, hard enough to shatter the lenses and bend the frame. "Oi! Those were new!"

The sunglasses were the last straw, Aziraphale knew then that his friend wasn't playing a game. He took his crucifix and advanced towards Crowley. "Now you listen here," he addressed the limb, which Crowley was restraining with his other hand from punching himself in the face again. "Leave him alone!"

They heard an unearthly chuckle from all around them and the room's darkness felt heavier than before.

The blonde jumped and whirled about, searching for the voice's source. Before he could turn back to Crowley however, the errant hand slapped the wrist holding on to the crucifix. The wood fell from his grip but a part of it touched the demonic palm.

Crowley yelped and the hand recoiled. "That burned!" he said more out of surprise than actual pain. They could try exorcising his arm! But how? he thought frantically. Before he could think of a plan, the limb grabbed for a new target.

This time he watched his hand curl around the blonde’s throat. “Stop! No!” he screamed, but his limb took no heed. Aziraphale was holding on to it with both hands to no avail, lifting him from the ground.

Crowley pressed the rosary hanging from his right wrist at it but although it stung the same way, it didn't make it let go of the blonde. Panicked, he looked for the crucifix but it had been knocked far from his reach.

"Po-pocket," Aziraphale gasped out, still doing his best to pry the fingers away.

With wide eyes, Crowley searched his friend's pockets. His fingers touched plastic. The handle of the water pistol. He hoped it was holy enough to combat the demonic arm. He snatched it and pulled the trigger, first aiming at the hand then soaking the rest of his arm for good measure. The pain blinded him but he kept going, wringing every drop of the holy water from the toy. Finally, the fingers slackened.

Aziraphale fell to the floor gasping and watch as his attacker jerked in pain. The skin of Crowley's arm was steaming a sickly green. Bumps were forming from underneath, cracking the skin then popping to excrete a blackish sludge, oozing down to the floor.

Crowley tried not to howl but he couldn't suppress the whimpers. He retched as the smell of sulfur and decaying flesh reached his nostrils. Finally succumbing to the torture, he fainted.

When he woke, the first thing he saw was a crucifix nailed high on clean white walls. He grimaced at it before turning his head to look at the rest of the room. Cots were lined along the walls. It was a ward, he surmised, burrowing beneath the blankets once more and hissing as the sheets slid against his heavily bandaged arm.

"Ah, you're finally awake," came a voice from the other end of the room. A nun was striding towards him with a pitcher of water, a glass, cups and a pot of tea. Behind her was a smiling Aziraphale clutching a tin of biscuits. "Gave us all a fright you, did," the nun chastised. "We patched your friend up as best we could, but you were worse for wear."

She took the pitcher and poured him a glass. He did his best to not choke as he gulped the liquid down. He looked up to find both nun and blonde peering at him curiously.

"Wot? I was thirsty," he said defensively.

Aziraphale chuckled. "It appears you're good to go dear boy. If drinking holy water doesn't bother you, then we have nothing more to worry about."

[douxreviews]

Gotham - ‘Nothing's Shocking’ Review

Oswald: "Penn, I think you need some rest...and a psychiatrist!"

What a conflicting and contrasting episode this turned out to be. All I could really muster afterwards was "I think I liked it?" Forgive me though, for I realize how that doesn't sound very promising.

After my viewing of 'Nothing's Shocking', I did some additional reading online afterwards and learned that in the process of developing and filming the initial layout for Season 5, FOX gave Gotham the opportunity to air two additional episodes, allowing Gotham to reach the 100-episode milestone. But this can also be seen as a double-edged sword by some, because since Gotham already had Season 5's resolution set, some of it already well into filming too, their new material for the two episodes - pushed into the slots of 5x08 and 5x09 - couldn't display anything that would contradict or upset the narrative's flow. Enter 'Nothing's Shocking' and presumably next week's 'The Trial of Jim Gordon'. These are sure to be filler-episodes in every sense of the word, but even filler can have its redeeming points. Do they outweigh the shortcomings though?

'Nothing's Shocking's story this week is fractured a tad more than its predecessors, with one plot dedicated to Gordon and Bullock pursuing a shapeshifting cop-killer, one centered around Bruce and Alfred investigating the tunnels Joker had been digging all throughout this season, and a third revolving around Oswald and Nygma having a run-in with the presumed-dead Arthur Penn. Each one features a self-contained villain to this week's episode, and cinematography that makes you feel like someone kept leaving the tripod on an uneven stack of thesauruses. (Hasn't the slanted camera shot become an old chestnut by this point? It's about as overdone as the last word of a pop hook being "tonight".)

We should start with Bruce and Alfred's story first, if only because I have the least to say about that one. As it turns out, there are unknown perpetrators now inhabiting the tunnels Joker's troupe had burrowed, and they've begun preying on innocent civilians. Substratum tunnels and sewers, people's flesh being sought after for consumption, and an eerie snarling that is quick to catch Bruce and Alfred's attention could naturally only allow someone like me to assume this episode was giving us the debut at last of Waylon Jones/Killer Croc, and nothing else. Gotham however decided they could top that easily though and instead revealed that Villain-Of-The-Week No. 1 is just a disfigured cannibalistic average-Joe harmed by the radioactive chemicals Gordon dumped in the river last week as part of his "brilliant" solution to foiling Joker. But I did mention 'redeeming points' earlier and this subplot does have it in the form of Bruce using throwing stars or throwing knives of some sort to save Alfred's skin. It's really nothing more than just another allusion to Batman, but David Mazouz has sold me so much this season on his aesthetic that I think he looks even more menacing without the cowl.

Meanwhile, Villain-Of-The-Week No. 2 is a shapeshifter that's begun killing off retired police officers in the city, and it seems that Gordon and Bullock are their next targets. In the process of the investigation, because Gordon discovers that Bullock and the victims all used to work together in the corrupt manner we saw the GCPD operate in back in Season 1, he immediately decides Bullock can't be trusted or relied on in this investigation, and even goes as far as 'benching' him when they obtain a lead on the killer's address. Even if I were Gordon's number one fan, I would still feel that this was really out-of-character for him. Gordon and Bullock have been through how many battles for Gotham's soul now? How many times have they stuck their neck out for one another? But now because Gordon's gotten to reminiscing about the days when Falcone ruled over the GCPD for just a bit, he decides he doesn't want to have Bullock watching his back in this case? Bullock's theory too that Basil Karlo/Clayface could be the perpetrator (a theory also shared by yours truly) held just as much water as Gordon's theory that the GCPD had a hand in covering up the killer's history.

The killer in question is actually Jane Doe, the first villain since Professor Pyg last season that Gotham's actually gotten me to go online and look up. Similar to Absorbing Man from Marvel Comics, Jane Doe has the ability to mimic other's appearances and mannerisms just by touching them. It's perplexing to me that Gotham would bring in another shapeshifter, toyed with by Hugo Strange while at Arkham no less, when there's already one established in Gotham's mythos. At least she does her part here by reminding the audience that Gotham City's police have the precision of your average Death Star-stormtrooper when it comes to trying to hit a limping target. Bullock feels guilt over his hand in indirectly sending Jane to Arkham and tries to make peace with her, but is forced to gun her down when she retaliates.

The final subplot here was by far the most delightful and enjoyable for me. For context, Oswald and Nygma have begun attempting to build a submarine that can carry them out of the city. While bickering away in their workshop, they are abruptly confronted by Arthur Penn, Oswald's former handyman who was presumably shot and killed at Haven several episodes before. But Penn isn't alone - he's got with him Villain-Of-The-Week No. 3: a ventriloquist dummy named Mr. Scarface who wants to cross Oswald off and make a name for himself as the city's newest mobster. As shoehorned in and almost nonsensical Penn's revival is, I am thrilled that we've finally gotten a live-action debut of The Ventriloquist.

Of all the villains inaugurated into Batman's rouges' gallery in the last three decades, Ventriloquist and Mr. Scarface, popularized heavily by Batman: The Animated Series, have been among my favorites. The schizophrenic nature of Arnold Wesker and the ambiguous notion of whether he was controlling the dummy, or the dummy was actually sentient fit right into the maddened nature of Batman's world. And in Gotham, albeit a little stiff, it's fair to say that Penn (Andrew Sellon) has the voice practically down-pat. Nygma manipulating Penn and Scarface into sparing him and giving Oswald a chance to get the upper hand was brilliant too, though I'd say the showrunners are being a little too meta at this point with the sexual undertones concerning Oswald and Nygma. Oswald remarking that he and Nygma may be meant for each other after all before the two of them laugh it off at the episode's end can be left up to your own interpretation.

So now that Mr. Scarface has taken the stage, with the potential of easily shaping up to be the most entertaining villain Season 5 has introduced - for all of ten minutes - it brings us to what is so conflicting about this episode for me. What do Oswald and Nygma follow through with once they've turned the tables? They kill him - Penn and the dummy both. Even if Gotham's jumbled schedule of filming episodes out of order means that Scarface and Penn can't show up in future episodes, my issue is with the notion in itself of introducing lesser-known rouges to the show. By now, I believe Gotham has abandoned the prequel-shtick, and has committed to being the best full-blown Batman television series it can possibly be with only twelve episodes left. But then what's the point of bringing in future Batman rouges if their fate is just to be axed off, never to face the caped crusader, or even young Bruce Wayne for that matter? Penn and Jane bite the dust here, Magpie in last week's episode, Pyg back in Season 4...starting to see a pattern? I'm not surprised by any means by Penn's fate ('Nothing's Shocking' certainly lives up to its name in that aspect), I'm just truly flummoxed by all these hasty conclusions to Gotham's villain-of-the-week stories. Maybe it's for the better that Bruce and Alfred didn't encounter Killer Croc - it probably spared him the likely fate too of a premature death.

'Nothing's Shocking' works best as an independent, even successfully horror-esque at times segment, but as an episode surrounded by four previous seasons and the legacy of Batman in its future, it's clunky and indispensable. Even as a filler episode, the sense that Gotham City is essentially a wasteland, and ammo and rations are scarce values that was felt in this season's first three or four episodes now feels strangely absent here. I think it's fruitless at this point to continue anymore trying to make sense of Gotham's loony state considering it has the worst case of DID I've seen since Kevin Wendall Crumb graced the big screens.

Aaron Studer loves spending his time reading, writing and defending the existence of cryptids because they can’t do it themselves.

[lucrezia-venus]

𝑙𝑢𝑐𝑒 ↠ 𝑜𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑎

WHERE: witchcraft festival, salem WHEN: ending of the resume WHO: closed for @ofxlita // lucrezia 05/17/2020

Salem wasn't exactly the town where you heard loud yelling.  Maybe drunkenly, but at a Carnival?  Never.  So approaching the tent, she was shocked to see a familiar face in such a tizzy.

"Ofelia?"  she interrupts, looking between the girl and the fortune teller concerned.  "Apologies, May I?" she gestures to the girl before offering a hand.  It's not that Luce is immune to the tension but she refuses to let the moment fester wanting to draw attention off the girl. "Why don't we take a walk...."

// nina 05/17/2020

It wasn't like Ofelia to cause a scene. She, of all people, could promise that. But life had a tendency of planting irony in unfortunate places and Ofelia was nothing but collateral damage. Her body grew taut, weighted heavy in her heels like a lead balloon. Festive on the exterior, with a solid black interior. Her lips quivered an uneasy quiver as she grunted her way out of the tent. "She's a liar." The latter syllable encased in the type of fury usually contained. "And a fraud." Her eyes scrambled to find those of Lucrezia, but she wasn't sure she could shoulder the inklings of disappointment.

// lucrezia 05/17/2020

She was just happy the girl was walking away from the scene, she could pout if she wanted.  "I'm sure that's true but, what good does yelling about it do.  Especially-"  she stops and brings herself close enough that Ofelia can hear a whisper.  "Especially with Hunters around.  We're meant to blend in."

// nina 05/17/2020

A wild mare chomping on the bit, taught to bite her tongue as she took in all that Lucrezia said. She was right, of course. It had become a habit, and one Ofelia both admired and loathed about her counterpart. "I am blending in, Lu--" Faux sincerity weaved its way upon her beam. "I thought tonight's about being someone you're not. Like all these people who take the liberty of poking fun at the deceased, shunned and oppressed." A brow rose, her head nodding as she signalled that she understood what Lu was saying. "But fine, I'm bored anyway." She toyed with the lapel on her jacket absentmindedly as her eyes scanned the distancing crowds. "I suppose you've been blending in just fine, ey?"

// lucrezia 05/17/2020

For as endearing as she found Ofelia - the girl was clearly intelligent and shared her domain - the girl had a way of being exhausting.  Of course, she would have been hard pressed to name a person who did not, in some way, drain her.  Even so, she sighed, and grabbed the younger girls hand to lead her away.  "It's a piss poor attempt at blending, Fee," but it's more of a friendly scold than anything else. "Walk with me. Tell me about this fortune teller.  Just," she gives her hand a gentle squeeze. "Try to stay calm."

// nina 05/17/2020

Once more, her eyebrow soared, a fuzzy line of resistance destined to come crashing down in a furrow. She tutted before her lips formed a purse, tongue trailing to inner depths of her palate. Ofelia felt had fingers itch, burn almost in her pocket and truth be told she wasn't feeling particularly nostalgic in that moment. "Just some shit about happy families." It wasn't a lie, and yet, barely scratched the surface. Her tone was completely flat, without the desirable rivets conveyed in her friend's timbre. "As if that were on the cards for me." She tutted once more, shuddered just a tad as if to shake herself from the grizzly truth. Lucrezia was someone she admired, so she figured it best not to dive too deep into the bottomless pit of poor decision making that was her past.

// lucrezia  05/17/2020

Luce rolled her eyes.  "They're just cold readers, these 'fortune tellers'." She made the air quotes heavily with the words.  "It's tempting to believe these fools are real given...what we know, but the truth of it is psychics are still bullshit. Or at least so far as I'm concerned." Lucrezia let go of the girl, leading them to sit towards the edge of the food court by a picnic bench.  It was the edge of the festival and she felt more comfortable speaking candidly here. "What's really burrowed under your skin, kid?"

// nina 05/17/2020

Lucrezia had a way of speaking that caught Ofelia off-guard. She exuded confidence, without restraint. At this point, Ofelia was sure that she could make a cereal tutorial sound like a TED talk and that - and perhaps only that - was why Ofelia listened so keenly. "Don't call me that--" Molten frustration tickled her tongue, "--please" She added, delayed, ocean-deep optics scanning their surroundings. It was quiet, deadly quiet, and she could only just make out the soft features of Lucrezia's countenance. "And it's nothing, really--" Dismissive as her tone was, it was laced in thanks. "I'd rather not get into it right now. Besides, you haven't given me chance to ask how your night went. Though I can't promise I'll be particularly invested."

// lucrezia  05/18/2020

"Call you what?" Her brow raised, tempting her to test her with by placing boundaries.  She was used to feeling the oldest in the room, it was internal more than age.  Then she added the please and Luce smiled. "What would you rather instead?" It was understanding, a boon, to be dismissed as they move along.  She whistled her sigh, leading into a Well that was heavy as the day. "I've found this carnival far more dramatic than any before.  Mmm, and if not dramatic at the very least busy." At the slight, Luce rolls her eyes. "I've kissed a stranger, been riled by a friend and watched my share of women burst into tears.  Now this." and she gestures to Ofelia.

// nina 05/18/2020

"My name, I guess...." There was restraint exercised in her thinning timbre and yet, every speck of discomfort was audible. Once the topic had taken a turn, Ofelia was grateful, for the spotlight of interrogation was one she had been under one too many times. "You don't have to worry about me, Luce---" She asserted, searching for the lighter in her pocket to ignite the cigarette now wedged firm between her lips. "I'm not here to cause anyone problems. In fact---" Her first drag called for a hyperbolic thrashing of her head back, the night sky the prettiest sight she had seen all night, second to the woman sat beside her of course. "It's quite the opposite. Was he a good kisser? Most of the men here are....well, more likeboys actually."

// lucrezia  05/20/2020

Luce chuckled, nodding at the request.  "Fair enough," and she clapped the girl lightly on her shoulder.  It was calmer by the woods, quieter and Luce took that moment to breathe out all that had driven the night mad. "I wouldn't say I'm worried, Ofelia, but I don't know you as well as I'd like.  Not enough for confidence." She reached for her own cigarette, partaking in the hobby with the girl.  " He wasn't, no, but she was delightful." Then Luce winked.  "You're right.  It's a town full of preteens mentally. At least with men."

// nina 05/20/2020

"Ah...yes, how hetero of me to assume." Ofelia snickered, but not a malicious snicker with connotations of mischief and wrongdoing. Instead, it was a sense of knowing she shared, though unspoken, with her counterpart. In many ways, the art of men and women's bodies was one Ofelia partook in best she could. Perhaps it reflected the turmoil, the lack of pretty things that resided within her. Either way, it was a hell of a time when it rolled around. "Impressive--" She chided with a childish perkiness. "Can't say I moved to here to get laid..." Another drag. "If that were the case I'd have stayed in Miami. The weather was hot but the people were hotter."

Lucrezia Bianchi 05/20/2020

"I mean, you were half right." That same cocky grin is on her lips, sensing the kindred spirit now and from talks before.  "There's little pleasure in sex with men, I find.  I fuck them for power.  Women....well, there's a bit more allure there.  She must have something I do not to entice me." When she laughs next, it's full of heart. "I can agree there. Florida has issues but aesthetics is not one."

[jonathanbogart]

Magnitizdat: Soviet Aligned Pop and New Wave

Mix seven of seven. The previous mixes can be found here. The YouTube playlist for this mix can be found here. Below this paragraph is the tracklisting for this mix; below that are my notes on it. It’s been a gas.

Bravo, “Koshki”

Klaus Mitffoch, “Jezu jak się cieszę”

Spenót, “Szamba”

Tango, “Na šikmé ploše”

Forum, “Davayte sozvonimsya”

Urszula, “Wielki odlot”

Pankow, “Rock ‘n’ Roll im Stadtpark”

Florian din Transilvania, “Mă simt minunat”

Trick, “Elektronnoto kuche”

Dzeltenie Pastnieki, “Sliekutēva vaļasprieks”

Marika Gombitová, “Prekážky dní”

Grazhdanskaya Oborona, “Zoopark”

Gigi, “Divat a fontos”

Maanam, “Lucciola”

Silly, “Die Gräfin”

Kino, “Posledniy geroy”

Sfinx, “An după an”

Első Emelet, “Amerika”

Aya RL, “Skóra”

OK Band, “Žižkovská zeď”

Nastya, “Tatsu”

Magnitizdat: soviet aligned pop and new wave

In a just world, just about every nation represented here would get its own mix: Poland, Hungary, Czechia, and Russia, to name just the largest pop scenes, were (and are) too capacious to be summed up in the paltry handful of songs I’ve allotted them. But I’m already teetering on the furthest outside edge of my understanding. My grasp of Europe is comparable to Saul Steinberg’s legendary view from 9th Avenue: the further East of the Pyrenees I get the more featureless and notional everything is.

To make things more complicated, although the seven nations (at the time; now 13½) represented in this mix were formally Soviet-aligned in terms of foreign policy and general economic structure, they all pursued different approaches to cultural policy, and those policies changed radically over the decades, and even from year to year. At the beginning of the 1980s, the Soviet Union was perhaps the most officially censorious in terms of rejecting Western influence, whereas places like Poland, Hungary, East Germany, and Czechoslovakia were relatively open to current trends in Western European culture, especially following the Prague Spring of 1968. Then too, one of the necessary preconditions for good pop is money (which doesn’t necessarily mean pure capitalism: state-funded arts education and broadcast media, e.g., made British pop the envy of the world), and many of the Eastern Bloc nations, whether or not they were eager to support international-style pop, were among the poorest in Europe.

Still, life finds a way. Electronic music in particular was taken up enthusiastically by many Warsaw Pact composers in the 1970s, both as a technical challenge and as a path forward into a Communist musical future that owed nothing to the dead traditions of the West. Young musicians in Warsaw, Riga, and Leningrad got hold of contraband records or reel-to-reel tapes (called magnitizdat in Russian, in parallel with printed samizdat, according to Wikipedia) of new and innovative forms of rock and pop, imitated them, and added their own perspectives. And Eastern European nations held their own national and international versions of Eurovision, and broadcast local singers in a variety of traditions, both as light entertainment and as a way to reinforce cultural nationalism.

So although Eastern Bloc pop in the 1980s was often cheaper and perhaps chintzier (or at least dedicated to different notions of cool) than its Western counterparts, there was still plenty of it; but it was also unevenly distributed. My division below is less about population size or global importance (either today or historically) than about what would fit into a single mix. There are six Soviet songs (five Russian, one Latvian), four Polish, three Hungarian, two East German, two Czech, one Slovak, two Romanian, and one Bulgarian. Linguistically, it’s my most diverse mix by far, with six Slavic languages, one Germanic, one Uralic, and one Romance language represented (the runner-up, Melodier, had five Germanic languages and one Uralic). Google Translate is my everything.

All of them are great songs, and most of them are great records as well (we’ll get to the exception), although I doubt anyone actually living in Eastern Europe, either at the time or presently, would group together these precise performers in this way: some were defiantly underground, some boringly mainstream, and most somewhere in the middle.

Most of these mixes have taken 1981 and 1987 as the boundary years: while this one ends with a longish 1987 track as per tradition, the rest of the songs are mostly clustered between 1983 and 1985. Due to protectionist policies (both Eastern and Western), inefficiencies of resource allocation, and the slow-to-arrive effects of glasnost, the new wave (if that’s even a useful term to describe a shift towards 1980s-era modernity in the diverse Communist scenes) rolled over Eastern Europe several years after it had blanketed the West. My early investigations all centered on 1984, and further research still marks that as a pivotal year.

Anyway, here’s what I’ve fallen in love with. I hope you dig it too.

1. Bravo Koshki no label | Moscow, 1985

WIth all apologies to Long Island’s Stray Cats, Southern California’s Blasters, England’s Shakin’ Stevens, West Germany’s Ace Cats, and Barcelona’s Loquillo, the greatest rockabilly revival act of the 1980s was the Russian Браво (Bravo). Formed in 1983 by guitarist Evgeny Havtan, with singer Zhanna Aguzarova signing on later that year, they played 1950s rock and roll with a side order of 1960s ska, with lyrics simple and catchy enough to be universal but subversive enough to get them into trouble. “Кошки” (Cats) could be a children’s song: “Cats don’t look like people, cats are cats,” is the opening lyric. But when Aguzarova adds that cats don’t talk nonsense or care about bits of paper, that’s questionable, and when she launches into some of the most thrilling scatting ever heard in rock & roll it’s downright revolutionary. After the band had self-released their first recordings on magnetic tape, she was arrested for using forged identity papers in 1984, and didn’t release a proper record until 1987. She left the band in 1989 for a solo career, and is beloved throughout Russia as a sort of Lady Gaga avant la lettre, while Bravo under Havtan and a succession of singers has continued to plow their rockabilly furrow to slightly diminished success.

2. Klaus Mitffoch Jezu jak się cieszę Tonpress | Wrocław, 1983

One of the most important Polish new wave bands, Klaus Mitffoch combined punk energy, two-tone nimbleness, and post-punk solemnity in a compulsively listenable and sometimes danceable mix. Their first single, Jezu jak się cieszę (Jesus, I’m Happy; the name is an interjection rather than an address) is a mordant portrait of callow youth that doesn’t think past the next payday, fight, or fuck, and of the system that keeps them that way: the shouty chorus translates as “Get up and be busy and own things/I can’t really do it/I don’t really want to.” A Polish “I prefer not to,” it’s a critique of the capitalist contract which worked just as well as a critique of Communist expectations: the lack of real difference between the oppressiveness of East and West will be an ongoing theme.

3. Spenót Szamba Start | Budapest, 1983

Although I’ve been attaching the tag “new wave” to these mixes, one of the signature sounds of the US new wave has been entirely unrepresented: the beachy kitsch of the B-52’s. Until now. Spenót (Spinach) was a Budapest arts collective founded in the early 80s which only released one single on the rock imprint of the Hungarian state label: “Szamba” (Samba) b/w “Hová tűntek a szőke nőket” (Where Did the Blondes Go). Casio, bass, guitar, and disaffected vocals from Kriszta Berzsenyi (now a costumer in the Hungarian film industry) make for a minimal-funk tribute to proletarian hero Popeye, as the refrain “Everything’s perfectly fine, I’ve got spinach flowing in my veins” makes clear. A late entrance from a mariachi trumpet only adds to the delightful kitsch effect, and makes me grin ear to ear every time I listen.

4. Tango Na šikmé ploše Supraphon | Prague, 1984

Although the island-borrowed rhythms and frontman Miroslav Imrich’s vocal qualities in this early song are rather heavily reminiscent of the Police, in terms of cultural positioning Tango were rather closer to Madness: a ska-pop band that could be goofy or heartfelt depending on the song, and burrowed deep into Czech working-class cultural identity, in part thanks to their inventive and prolific videos. Their first single, “Na šikmé ploše” (On the Slope) is a heartfelt and rather poetic love song on skis. Even after Tango’s dissolution, Imrich has been a consistently popular singer and songwriter in the years since, his work, both solo and in collaboration, ranging from ballads to techno.

5. Forum Davayte sozvonimsya no label | Moscow, 1984

A Russian synthpop band who owed nothing to such English decadents as Human League or Depeche Mode, Форум was fronted by singer Viktor Saltykov, who had previously sung with rock band Manufactura, and anchored by synth wizard Alexander Morozov. The video for Давайте созвонимся (Let’s Call Each Other), from an early television appearance, has become a minor internet classic of kitschy Soviet aesthetics, but a google of the lyrics reveals as thoughtful and sensitive a song about love under modern technological conditions as anything Gary Numan or Scritti Politti ever recorded. Forum’s debut album wouldn’t see official release until 1987, by which time a lot of Russian pop had caught up to them.

6. Urszula Wielki odlot Polton | Lublin, 1984

Perhaps Poland’s most prominent female rock star for the last forty years, Urszula Kasprzak has recorded in a variety of styles, from hard rock to dance-pop; but her 1984 album Malinowy król (Raspberry King), recorded with members of prog band Budka Suflera, is a minor masterpiece of cool, reflective synthpop. “Wielki odlot” (The Great Departure) was the leadoff track and the album’s lowest-charting single, but I love its stately swell and the apocalyptic  lyrics (or maybe it’s just about emigration, which is another form of apocalypse). I’m looking forward into digging around into the rest of Urszula’s discography.

7. Pankow Rock ’n’ Roll im Stadtpark AMIGA | Berlin, 1983

East Germany probably had the most thoroughly Westernized and extensive pop scene in the whole Eastern Bloc — only natural, given its proximity and exposure to West German media. But child star Nina Hagen had to leave East Berlin to help found the Neue Deutsche Welle: East Germany preferred shaggy 70s rock even as icy synths overran the NATO countries. Pankow, formed in the eponymous suburb of East Berlin, was a case in point: definitely a new wave band, they still clearly adored old-fashioned boogie rock. “Rock ’n’ Roll im Stadtpark” (Rock ’n’ Roll in the City Park) is an anthem of Communist rock (even the shouted refrains are collectivized): dancing to rock & roll in the park is better than bourgeois disco or high-priced cinema, because it’s free. Of the people, by the people, for the people, oh yeah.

8. Florian din Transilvania Mă simt minunat Electrecord | Bucharest, 1986

The hermetic and impoverished Romanian scene, tightly controlled by Nicolae Ceaușescu’s Maoist-modeled authoritarian government, was the slowest of the European Communist nations to catch up to the present of the 1980s: officially supported music tended to be folkloric, balladic, and at its most up-to-date, hippie-era hard rock. Mircea Florian was one of the grand exceptions: beginning as a mid-60s folk-rocker in the mold of Dylan and Cohen, and maintaining a parallel interest in electronics and modern composers like Stockhausen and Nono, he moved through many progressive, electric, and Eastern-influenced musical phases over the next twenty years, often butting heads with the regime. His last great record, 1986’s Tainicul vîrtej (The Secret Swirl), released just before his defection to West Germany, was a summation of his folk- and art-rock past and his new-wave present. This opening track “I Feel Great,” is a statement of gleeful modernism, the lyrics an expression of bucolic alienation while the synthesizers and drum machines wander off on prog-rock solos before being recalled to robot rhythms.

9. Trick Elektronnoto kuche Balkanton | Sofia, 1985

If the Romanian rock scene was impoverished, its Bulgarian counterpart was even more so. Trick was a vocal group — two women, one man — put together out of music school in frank imitation of Western acts like ABBA, Boney M, or even (if the record sleeves are any indication) Tony Orlando and Dawn. But this cut from their first LP, “Electronic Dog,” was produced by the young, ambitious Kristian Boyadzhiev to a hypermodern sheen: if the girls are still essentially singing disco harmonies, at least the music has heard of ZTT. After release, the song was suppressed by Bulgarian state media on the grounds that the goofy lyrics and synthesized dog barks were making a mockery of Bulgarian electronics. But today, it sounds like it might predict Eastern European trance.

10. Dzeltenie Pastnieki Sliekutēva vaļasprieks no label | Riga, 1984

The underground new-wave scene in Latvia was apparently the most active and prolific in the Soviet Union outside Mother Russia: the Baltic seaport of Riga, as one of the USSR’s few access points to global culture, saw bands like Pērkons, NSRD, and Dzeltenie Pastnieki making waves even as their magnetic-tape recordings were suppressed by the Soviet authorities and not released for decades. I chose this song by Dzeltenie Pastnieki (Yellow Postmen) not because it’s exceptionally better than the rest of their material, which is all pretty great, but because its combination of electronic loops and sensitive guitar sounded surprisingly to me like the Postal Service. The pitch-shifted vocals, sure, sound more like “The Laughing Gnome,” but that’s no deal-breaker.

11. Marika Gombitová Prekážky dní Opus | Bratislava, 1984

Probably the biggest Slovak pop star of the era, Marika Gombitová had been well-known in the eastern half of Czechoslovakia since 1977, when she sang leads for the popular rock band Modus. This synthpop gem (Daily Obstacles) from her fifth album, the unselfconsciously-titled No. 5 (it was her first stab at singing to synthesizers), uses sporting metaphors to talk about desires that slip forever out of reach, the evocativeness of which imagery would not have been lost on a contemporary television-watching audience: Gombitová had been confined to a wheelchair, paralyzed from the shoulders down, following a car crash in 1981. Her marvelous voice, thin but strong, reminds me of Cyndi Lauper’s: and the gorgeous production, with its slippery bass and a haunting electronic solo in the middle eight, makes this maybe my favorite song in this mix.

12. Grazhdanskaya Oborona Zoopark no label | Omsk, 1985

Here’s that not-great record, meaning only that it’s extremely lo-fi, so much so that the tape hiss and room tone plays practically an aesthetic role, turning a simple rock ballad into a fuzz-pop gem that could sit side-by-side with contemporary work by the Beat Happening or Hüsker Dü. Гражданская Оборона (Civil Defense) was the psych-rock project of Siberian-born Yegor Letov; after their first magnetic tape, containing “зоопарк,” was recorded, band members were institutionalized, their subversive attitudes having been dutifully reported to the authorities by the guitarist's mother. That subversiveness isn’t hard to detect in this song, in which Letov dreams of finding other crazy people (like him) with whom he can plot an escape from the zoo of contemporary life.

13. Gigi Divat a fontos Start | Budapest, 1985

Nobody on the Internet seems to know anything about Gigi, not even whether the name is of a performer or a group. The writing credit on the Hungarian compilation LP where “Divat a fontos” (Fashion Matters) appeared is to “Gigi Együttes,” which latter word just means Ensemble. But a bunch of people on the Internet, some in Hungarian, some in English, and some in Polish, have warmly praised this song, an aerobic synthpop jam that combines the best of Kim Wilde and Olivia Newton-John. It’s apparently all that this Gigi (the thirty-first entity of that name on Discogs) ever recorded, but it’s enough.

14. Maanam Lucciola Polskie Nagrania Muza | Kraków, 1984

The post-punk band Maanam, on the other hand, are legends of Polish rock, with dozens of records and a rabid fanbase: one of the most successful and important Eastern European bands of the decade. Lead singer Kora (Olga Jackowska)’s vocal style owed little to Anglophone precedent, digging deep into Slavic and Polish modernism, even when, as here, the most frequent word in the song is the Italian woman’s name of the title. In “Lucciola,” Kora dispassionately portrays a man searching for the titular woman in the night wind, while the band’s brawny Gang of Four funk motorvates right along regardless.

15. Silly Die Gräfin AMIGA | Berlin, 1982

Probably the most interesting East German rock band of the 1980s, Silly was centered around the vocal performances of Tamara Danz, who could be kabarett-outrageous in one song and luminously synthpop-tender in the next. “Die Gräfin” (lit. The Countess, but also slang for any stuck-up woman) is a funk-rock vehicle for her gift for satirical vocal caricature, as she mocks the decayed German aristocracy from a victorious proletarian point of view. Not that Danz was a strict ideologue: in 1989, she joined other East German musicians in demanding greater freedom, in protests that helped lead to the collapse of the Communist consensus. She died in 1996 of breast cancer, far too young.

16. Kino Posledniy geroy AnTrop | Leningrad, 1984

The only Russian band represented on this mix whose music was officially released within the era under consideration, Кино (Cinema) were no less skeptical about the Soviet system than their peers, just luckier in that they hooked up with the independent Leningrad-based AnTrop label, which gave them cover for sarcastic, despairing songs like Последний герой (Last of the Heroes), in which the familiar 80s theme of nuclear annihilation gets another airing, and East and West turn out to be not so different after all.

17. Sfinx An după an Electrecord | Bucharest, 1984

When Mircea Florian was one of the leading lights of Romanian prog in the 1970s, one of his few competitors in the field was the band Sfinx (Sphinx), formed in the mid-60s to play Western-style pop/rock. In the following decade, they grew more ambitious, taking cues from Yes, King Crimson, and Genesis, the last of whom, in their 80s incarnation, is a reference point here. “An după an” means Year After Year, and even though it was only their second LP (they were constantly running afoul of the Romanian censors), it was occasion for a wistful look back over the last twenty years.

18. Első Emelet ‎Amerika Start | Budapest, 1983

Perhaps the most popular Hungarian rock band of the early 80s, Első Emelet (First Floor) was formed from the remnants of several less fortunate acts which imploded around 1982. With a bright, energetic sound, witty lyrics by songwriter Péter Geszti, and an irreverent comic sensibility to their visual presentation, they were just the kind of band that would have been a lock to appear on MTV if they weren’t from a Communist nation. In fact, they did anyway — one of the television screens in Dire Straits’ “Money for Nothing” is playing an Első Emelet video. Their first single, “Amerika” is a terrific satire of that consumerist paradise, rendered with all the plastic pomp the subject deserve.

19. Aya RL Skóra Tonpress | Warsaw, 1984

One of the greatest long-running European indie-rock bands, Aya RL (for Red Love) formed when Russian keyboardist Igor Czerniawski and Polish singer Paweł Kukiz met in Warsaw. “Skóra” (Skin), their biggest hit and most well-loved song (I dare you to get that wordless chorus out of your head), is somewhat unrepresentative of their more psychedelic and intellectual work — but it’s a great song, a portrait of love despite the turmoil and violence of the heavily politicized street culture of Warsaw in the 1980s.

20. OK Band Žižkovská zeď Supraphon | Prague, 1982

If you didn’t know anything about Eastern Bloc music in the 1980s and relied only on what the Western media of the time showed you, you might expect it all to sound like this: icy, measured, foreboding. In fact, “Žižkovská zeď” (The Zizkov Wall) is just about the slowest and coldest song in Czech synthpop act OK Band’s repertoire: most of it is much cheerier and romantic. But I really dig its coldwave vibes and the sound of Marcela Březinová’s voice singing about the awful feeling of seeing your name written in graffiti by an unknown hand.

21. Nastya Tatsu no label | Sverdlovsk, 1987

Thanks no doubt to my own global position — in the (allegedly) democratic West — I’ve been focused throughout this mix on how the music of Communist Europe responds to or relates to or recalls its Western counterparts. But with “Tatsu,” the gaze shifts not West, but East. Nastya, a band formed on the border of Europe and Asia, and named after its frontwoman, singer, composer and poet Anastasia Polova, was fascinated with Japanese folklore, history, and mythology. The Tatsu of the title is both a Japanese child left for dead in World War II (that’s where the bits in English come in), and a mythological dragon-god protecting islands in the Pacific. It’s an amazing song, the centerpiece of an amazing album, and the fact that it only circulated as a bootleg tape for a decade before being officially issued in the mid-90s is the strongest indictment of late-Soviet cultural policy I know. I say that as a Communist.

That’s it, that’s all the mixes. For now, anyway. Thanks for reading and listening and sharing and liking. I’ve got other projects to keep me busy; I’ll try to mention them here from time to time.

[mikalbdfa2-blog]

FINAL Choreographed Action

 Please Note: I have included the Vimeo URL beneath each video, just in case it does not play for you. Thank you. 

Without One Second Transition

Below is my final ten second rotoscoped animation of my gymnast, without the one second transition piece beforehand.

https://vimeo.com/239779830

Overall, I am extremely pleased with my final slow motion, rotoscoped gymnastic piece. As expected, I drew heavily from life drawing classes and what was considered and has been explored to be ‘gestural, structural and rendered.’ I love the fluidity and expressivity of my gestural lines and how smoothly they transition to become more solid and structural, to my rendered portrayal with dancing shadows. I constantly reminded myself to keep my depictions as simple as possible for each visual style, and I believe the loose, dancing lines of her depiction are effective in retaining an expressivity that is as equally appealing as it is clear and concise. By doing so, this ensured my rotoscoped action did not become stiff or ever appear uncanny or traced. As seen through my process, especially my manual in-betweening, I constantly interpreted and transformed the footage. I paid close attention to each visual style ‘bracket’ and made sure they all transitioned smoothly and seamlessly from each other as to not detract from the overall rhythm that is created.

I am extremely happy with the visual appeal of the footage I chose, as her line of action is entirely and constantly pushed to the limits, and this gave me a lot to work with. It also proved to be an effective choice to select footage that had a beginning, middle and end, as a result of this, the animation feels finished as a standalone. Moreover, as she remains on a slight three-quarter angle for the entire duration of this scene, it further helped me portray a sense of solidity and volume during my gestural and structural brackets. Subsequent of my use of lighting and four simple tones, my rendered section certainly appears to have volume and solidity. As her hair was tied up, the secondary action is less prominent here, however there is movement with the material of the skirt she wears. I love the way her motion is faster at the beginning of the action, for her to gradually ease into her most exaggerated and twisted pose, the added weight of her batons pulling her arms through and around the action (which also helped add anticipation), where her leg eases out even slower from its position to eventually settle upon the ground. I was careful with how I staged her action as I knew she needed to remain within the action lines, however large enough to utilise the screen space effectively – and as she stretches to such heights by the middle of the footage, I ensured I was aware of this. My animation uses arcs exceptionally and constantly in a highly, aesthetically appealing manner. The entire action she completes uses arcs openly and obviously, from the movement of her batons, to the arc of her torso, and the motion of her lifting leg. As mentioned during my process breakdown, I used a combination of straight ahead action and pose to pose when completing my in-betweens. I also remained constantly aware of the motion of the batons, which proved to add another level of difficulty to animating my piece, as I had to ensure that their movement remained clear and realistic as I certainly did not want the audience to become trapped within the motion of the batons. It is the gymnast’s structure and motion that is of my primary focus, after all (this is also why I did not add facial features). Overall, I believe through my interpretation and transformation of the footage I chose, drawing experience and knowledge from my life drawing class, along with my constant awareness and use of animation principles, that I have created an aesthetically and visually appealing piece.

The Transition:

‘Fancier’ One Second Transition

Not having received the last frame from the person before me alphabetically by week 13, and after many attempts of communication, I decided to complete my one second transition. After attending a consultation with Sorin, who suggested to have my transition begin from a dot within the middle of my composition, this is how I began.

Below is the first one second transition I animated, and I was pleased with the visual look, however I was unsure if it was too detailed, or ‘fancy’ for what was required. Having a flower form from loose lines to then dissolve into the gymnast, reminded me of attending carnivals or some form of festivities where dancers or gymnastic routines are followed by vehicles filled with exotic flowers. I believe this transition gave my piece a level of personality that was not there before hand.

https://vimeo.com/239955572

‘Simple’ One Second Transition

As mentioned above, I was unsure if my approach was too much, so I decided it was best to also complete another one second transition, except this time I would use less lines, and focus upon simple beauty. In this approach, beginning from a dot, ribbons/tentacles/ swirls emerge and grow from the single point, with parts of it to breaking free and settling from thicker lines into the thin, single lines of her gestural depiction. This transition was certainly not as showy; however, I believe beautiful in its fluidity and simplicity through my use of fewer lines and line variation. Furthermore, this transition seems a bit more ‘achievable’ and correct given the duration of this piece. In saying this however, I do still like my flower as it grows to then dissolve into my gymnast, as if it were an explosion of confetti, of sorts, however I would have chosen my second transition as my final one.

https://vimeo.com/239955812

The FINAL Transition and Submitted Video

To my surprise, I received an email on Thursday of week 13 from the student before me, concerning her last frame. 

Elly-Rose Burrowes’ Last Frame: 

Having received Elly-Rose’s frame, I developed a new one second transition. By this stage I was familiar with the process, however it still took me much longer to decide how I was going to approach morphing her frame into mine considering the size difference of our people. 

My First Frame: 

I took visual inspiration from the second ‘simpler’ transition I created, and decided to approach this transition in a similar manner. I reduced the lines within her frame to focus and meld into one point, from where they curled, grew, separated and thinned to form my gestural portrayal of my gymnast. 

FINAL Animation

As required, I have also uploaded the below video to  the ‘KNB122 - Final Rotoscoped Sequences’ folder found in Onedrive. 

https://vimeo.com/239955127

Overall, I am extremely pleased with my transition from her final frame, to my first gestural frame, and believe it animates smoothly and seamlessly into my personal visual style. I believe the variation of line quality and form within my transition adds further visual interest to my ten second animation that follows.