#but. it’s not as dark as the st poster so it’s still not as balanced as I would like 😭

[reikunrei]

I really hope the group poster for s5 is good. s1 is a classic, but I’ve always been really indifferent to s2 and s3. I do really like the s4 one tho! it’s well balanced and nice to look at

[gch1995]

If you hate Star Wars and its fandom so much, why are you even in it?? Seems like a waste of time, to write so much about things you don't like, every day. And what of people who make posts about things they genuinely enjoy, and who receives notifications from people like you who shit on their posts?

Nonny, the problem is that your side of the fandom doesn’t make it easy for those of us who enjoyed Star Wars before Filoni, Hidalgo, and particularly Disney took over to enjoy the originally established canon characters and stories in the OT and PT movies and novelizations of Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa, Han Solo, and Padme Amidala.

Everything that was previously established about their complex and relatable characterizations, their development arcs, their accomplishments, their falls, their motivations, their sympathetic qualities, and their negative qualities keeps getting erased, flanderdized, sanitized, and/or simplified to create a more black-and-white good vs evil narrative of the Jedi Order and Republic government being “Completely Blameless” and Anakin/Vader being “Completely pure evil.”

However, Disney still can’t completely erase the fact that the Jedi Council failed Anakin as parents/guardians in the narrative because then he’d have no reason to fall at all. Yet, I still see people on your side of the fandom, the “official Disney canon” side of the fandom, denying that the Council willfully neglected Anakin’s well-being and enabled Palpatine, a powerful politician, who they sensed was shady from the beginning, to have unsupervised access to him when he was a child under their care because they were too cowardly to do the right thing when he threatened to destroy their reputation if they didn’t. Also, while it was risky for Mace and the Council to say no, the Jedi Order are beloved by the entire Republic. Sure, it wouldn’t look great if they said no to the Chancellor to protect their public image for a bit, but they could easily have gained it back because everyone loved them.

Everything about Luke saving the day in the OT to fix everything that was wrong about the system in the PT by breaking the cycle of systematic abuse, crime, corruption, and reforming the Jedi system to create a healthy balance, has been made pointless with the ST movies, so that they could insert Rey as the main protagonist, and do some forced Reylo romance.

I follow the Anakin Skywalker tag on tumblr, and a defense of the Council’s willful negligence of his well-being in regards to a powerful politician, who they knew was shady, to protect their public image, is the first top post I see on my dashboard with over 400 likes and reblogs of people unbelievably agreeing with the OP. Everything I see with over a hundred likes are metas of him being “pure evil,” the poster boy for toxic masculinity, and a “himbo,” in TCW, Disney, and even the PT and OT movies where he is specifically not toxically masculine until having a complete mental breakdown and going dark. He’s not innocent, far from it, even before falling to the dark side, but everything that made it feel even more worth it that Luke saved him and Padme ever loved him at all, in spite of all the awful things he did that cannot be excused, in the OG and PT, that Lucas had in mind, keeps getting undermined and/or erased in your canonized fanon. His neurodivergence keeps getting erased. His soft and awkward romantic side with Padme before becoming Vader keeps getting undermined to that one scene where he choked her in a blind rage and paranoia over potential abandonment when he was high on the dark side for the first time, and thought she had brought Obi Wan to kill him when the point was that, while not okay at all, he was completely out of his mind. They are trying to imply that it was easier for him to kill Sidious and escape than it actually was in your Disney canon, even though Lucas stated that he had been weakened previously.

We try to stay in our lane, but your “hot takes” that defend the Jedi Council’s child abuse, child neglect, child conscription, self-righteous bullying, slavery of the clones, enablement of slavery on the outer rims, and so on in regards to the Republic and Order, even when it shows up in your Disney™️ and TCW (08-19) canon, have overtaken most of our dashboards on tumblr and the media. We’re forced to deal with your fanon being canonized all the time after years of your bitching about the PT movies, so I don’t know why it’s such a big deal for you to have deal with us pointing it out when you’re condoning Obi Wan’s and the Jedi Council’s canonical problems by jumping on to your posts to do so. It’s what you did to most of us in the Anakin/Vader OT and PT movie and novelization fandom for “woobifying” him, even though he was originally written to be a complex anti-villain, tragic hero, tragic villain, and Byronic Hero type by George Lucas, starting from ESB, which is kind of the whole point of those characters, but you’re forever pissed off and in-denial that he wasn’t the one note cartoon villain you thought he was going to be when you first saw “A New Hope.” You’re forever bitter that Vader power fantasy cyborg killer machine was all just an illusion to cover up a very broken, deeply emotionally/psychologically damaged, and tragic complex character, so now, Filoni, Hidalgo, and Disney is catering to you guys by attempting to change the narrative to appease you guys by cartoon vilifying Anakin/Vader, except when they can’t.

[join-the-joywrite]

Hamish & Vera soulmate au headcannons

Lil headcannons for a colours soulmate au in which the S1 finale wasn't the first time Hamish had been hit in the face with the powder. Because why not? This version of the colours is the one where you can only see varying shades of the colour of your soulmate's eyes. Because why not?

Largely inspired from some of the vibes I gave myself in the telepathic au so here goes nothin (mild angst, I think) it's gonna be a long one 0.0

To give a time frame, Hamish has been a Knight for six years. Cassie's been dead for three years (I personally like the idea that Cassie died one year into Hamish being a Knight, but for the purposes of this au, we're gonna go with her dying in Hamish's third year as a Knight.)

It's late as shit and it's raining and Hamish is trying to get under cover because A) he just happened to choose today to wear a suede jacket and B) Tundra really doesn't appreciate the rain for some reason. [Now that I think of it, has it ever rained on the show??? Am I just forgetful or does Belgrave not see rain, like, ever?]

He spies an open door and rushes in side, dropping his bag and pulling the jacket off to shake the water away. Maybe he can salvage it. Or maybe, Tundra suggests, they can just rip it apart. For fun, obviously.

In the dark and with the loud pattering of the rain, the newcomer doesn't see Hamish and collides with him.

"Fucking shit weather," Vera complains to herself as she regains her balance.

"Chancellor Stone," Hamish recognises her in the very dim light of the building. The jacket might be ruined but it still has some weight and she's shivering in her pretty silk shirts.

Vera accepts the jacket and leans over to wring her hair out.

"Did you know that you're wearing three different shades of green?" "Your soulmate's eyes are probably green." "They are. But you are wearing three different shades of-- oh, four if you count your shoes."

Vera lifts her head to throw Hamish an annoyed look, as if he's being incredibly stupid, and notices everything isn't blue any longer. She's seeing colours she doesn't know the name for any longer. For the first time, she can see the colour of her own skin and she. Is. Entranced.

The nail polish bottle had said red and someone who'd already met their soulmate had once told her red nails make a person look powerful. But for the first time, Vera can see what red looks like.

She glances at a noticeboard beside her and runs her hand over a poster for some musical auditions. "I don't know what colour this is anymore," she whispers to herself.

"Pink," Hamish supplies, captured with the way Vera is seeing the world through new eyes. He guides her hand to a different poster. "Yellow." And a different one. "Lilac." And yet another. "Mint." And another. "Brown."

And then the novelty fades. "How do you know all of them?"

Vera hadn't been seeing colours before she the rain had come down on her and Hamish was the first person she'd met since she left her office. But if this was the first time she was seeing all the colours, shouldn't it be the first time Hamish was seeing them too?

"Ah. You . . . you're not my first."

"I see." The novelty has completely worn off and any excitement Vera had previously shown was deeply buried. "And where is this first?"

"Dead," Hamish admits bluntly.

"Oh! Oh . . . I'm sorry . . ." "Hamish." "What?" "My name. It's Hamish Duke."

"You should run before the rain starts coming down harder again." Vera looks out and notices that yes, the rain is slowing down. She moves to return the jacket. "No, keep it. It's ruined anyway, just toss it in the trash when you're in your house and warm."

"But you could use--" "I'll be fine, Chancellor."

Vera pauses, hand on the door. "Vera." "What?" "My first name is Vera."

Hamish stands in the middle of the building's foyer, hands in his pockets, and smiles. "Get home safe, Vera."

She does get home safe and she doesn't toss the jacket like he told her to. She fixes it up with some spell and keeps it in the back of her wardrobe.

For the next one and a half years, Vera is slowly getting more and more eaten up with the guilt that she's not telling Hamish about the Order. Little does she know, Hamish has several times thought about telling her about the Knights -- maybe even taking her down to the hide locker.

He does tell her about Cassie though. Explaining how he could identify all the colours because he'd seen them before. Vera asked what happened after Cassie died. "The world goes back to black and white, so I've heard." "But yours didn't." "Because of you." "Cheesy bastard." And then they're laughing again.

It's raining again. Vera can hear the rain drumming against the windows of Hamish's apartment windows.

"I need to talk to you." There is a pause where they both wait for the other to speak. Then Hamish gestures for Vera to speak when he notices her tightly clenched fist and the strange look in her eyes.

"I want to start of with I'm sorry. No let me finish." And in a single breath, Vera gets it all out. "I'm part of a secret society of magic practitioners called the Hermetic Order of the Blue Rose and is dedicated to preserving and passing on the art of magic but every breath you take in the Order could be your last because it is so fucking dangerous to be one of the disciples and I've never told you about it because I don't want you dragged into that world."

"Vera--" and then he's passed out on the couch they were sitting on.

Vera takes a few seconds to decide whether or not she's making a mistake before deciding that neither option seemed to be a very good one.

"Your name is Hamish Duke. You have never heard of the Hermetic Order of the Blue Rose. You have never personally met Vera Stone and you have no idea who your soulmate is."

By the time Hamish wakes, Vera has vanished. He feels fine, as if he'd just fallen asleep to the sound of the rain, something feels wrong about the apartment. Like it's missing something, like something crucial to making it a home had been ripped away.

Hamish starts staying at the den and his apartment sits and collects dust.

"Son of a bitch!" Vera cries when she figures out Jack Morton is a werewolf. She thinks she can't be further surprised ever. She'd bet Jack 20 dollars nothing could surprise her again.

Son of a bitch! She thinks as soon as she walks into the den. Part of her is glad she never vocalised that bet. The other part of her kinda wishes Alyssa had killed her like Coventry asked.

"I need a drink." Hamish is utterly appalled to see a stranger, let alone, the Temple Magus of the Order, his enemy, standing at his bar counter. But then he notices that she actually made a pretty decent drink for herself there.

"No killing." "No promises." Ah, just like old times -- except now with the looming threat of death hanging over their heads. Such fun.

At this point, you may put on Kathleen Edwards' cover of It Must Have Been Love -- and cry with me.

Vera would have assigned a disciple to Hamish, but she knee there was no way she would be able to go down into the den and watch the disciples clear it out without breaking and calling off the entire thing. It's not as if her task now is any better, but Hamish is a sight for sore eyes and she tells herself that if their roles were swapped, she would want him to come to her.

"Magus," he says when she approaches him somewhere near the temple. He notices she's wearing a suede jacket that surely can't be her own. He doesn't comment on it. "What can I do for you?"

"Part of me wishes it hadn't come to this." "Come to what? Coventry is gone, the book is gone, Jack's alive . . . most of the Order is fine. I'd say we're at a pretty good spot."

"You know, Hamish, there's a lot that I want to say to you but not enough words."

Hamish was pretty sure Vera Stone never called anyone by their first names -- at least, that's what he knows from Jack and Lilith. So what made him so special? "Like what?"

"I'm sorry."

"For?"

"Secrets," Vera says, turning away. "Secrets are terrible things. They ruin the best of things and can break down nearly everything."

"What sort of secrets?" Hamish stares at the back of Vera's head as she watches the students walk by in the distance.

Vera's hand shakes as she covers her mouth to keep her breath from shaking too. What's the point in hiding? He won't remember. "I love you."

Hamish gives a nervous laugh. She's not mentally afflicted ...... is she?

"I love you and I'm sorry." "You keep saying you're sorry, Magus, and--" "Please. My name is Vera."

Hamish is, at this point, fully confused. Did Vera perhaps smoke something? He goes up to her to ask her if she's okay. Her shoulder shakes under his hand.

"Vera--"

Vera drops to her knees with Hamish, stopping his head from touching the ground. And for a second, she allows a tear or two to fall. This makes twice.

"Your name is Hamish Duke. You're a TA at Belgrave. You've never heard of the Hermetic Order of the Blue Rose. You've never heard of thr Knights of St Christopher." Her whispering voice breaks and shudders. "Your soulmate's name was Cassie. She died in a car crash five years ago. You're dating Selena Durov." She pauses for a second, hesitating to say the words. "You've never personally met Vera Stone."

She stands up and waits for herself to calm herself before gently shaking his shoulders and pulling him up.

"Chancellor, wha--" "You passed out as I was walking by. Are you okay?" "Yeah, just . . . I don't know." "Well . . . um . . ."

"It was nice meeting you, Chancellor Stone." "Likewise."

And then she leaves because if she stands there any longer, she's going to break. Hamish calls for her as she's leaving. She pretends she can't hear him. Hamish picks up the necklace glinting in the sunlight. It's a simple and single letter H hanging from a chain. Perhaps it belonged to Cassie and he kept it in her memory? Must've been a nasty fall if his own memories are so foggy.

Vera watches from behind a concealment spell as Selena finally finds Hamish. He hurriedly throws the chain over his own neck and offers Selena his arm. He glances back once to see Vera walking away.

Part two

I had to break it up I'm taking a cry break

See the other soulmate aus I've done

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

Lily Briscoe, Remember?

PART TWENTY-SIX OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: drinking, smoking, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: After a visit to a local bar, Ella catches up with Jess and spends a night in Philadelphia.

Twirling her cool water glass around and around on the grimy table, Ella smiled softly when a Strokes song came over the speakers. The bar was some hole-in-the-wall dive a few blocks down from the publishing house, still adorned with St. Patrick’s Day decorations although it was halfway through May. But Ella didn’t mind it. There weren’t rowdy swarms of college students or bachelorette parties. Instead, people in their late twenties sat around in black, square-framed glasses talking in buzzing tones. They had locally-made beer and a small, empty stage with just a stool, where independent artists played on the weekends. The air was salty with fries and early summer excitement. Matthew made conversation with her as Chris and Jess went up to order the drinks. Leaning back against the ripped vinyl booth, Ella listened intently as Matthew, sat across from her in a creaky wooden chair, told her about he and Chris meeting in high school.

“...so, we weren’t in the AV club or anything, but we definitely weren’t on the football team either-”

Chris led the way back to the table with a tray of beers and a hoot of satisfaction, Jess trailing behind his friend and rolling his eyes.

Stopping mid-sentence, Matthew turned to Chris and swiped a drink. Chris sat down beside him and was almost instantly chattering away. Matthew seemed kind, quiet, subdued. A good balance to Chris’s chaotic enthusiasm. Jess slid into the booth beside Ella, shrugging off his suit jacket, flushed in the stuffy air. Their upper arms touched, making her stomach do a flip. Even though it had been years since he lived at Luke’s, Jess still somehow had an aroma of pine.

“So,” Chris began, turning to Ella with a pointed look and a grin, “what do you do, Ella?”

“Oh, um, I’m a waitress.”

“And an artist,” Jess chimed in, taking a sip from his bottle.

Ella rolled her eyes and then shot him a teasing glare. “Not professionally. But I just graduated from Southern Connecticut State last week. Hopefully I won’t be filling sandwich orders my whole life.”

“You graduated already, Doogie?” Jess asked with a pleasant, surprised chuckle.

She shrugged. “Wasn’t too big a deal. I took summer classes and stuff.”

“What’s your major?” Matthew asked.

“Studio art,” she said. “Minor in history, though.”

Jess raised his brows, but said nothing. Apparently she hadn’t gone through only outward changes. He could smell her lavender perfume as he sipped on his cheap, watery beer. It was odd to see her in Keeley’s, a bar he’d frequented since arriving in Philadelphia. The feeling was not quite deja-vu, but his worlds were certainly colliding. In the back of his mind, he wondered where her necklace was, wondered where she was living. It was easy to feel like he knew her, maybe better than anyone, but they hadn’t spoken in so long. She could be married, for all he knew. Scanning her thin hands, he found no engagement or wedding rings. But an uneasiness still sat right under his skin, eager to be resolved.

Crossing his arms, elbows on the table, Chris leaned closer into the conversation. “That’s so cool! Do you have anything lined up? Seems like you should, considering how many people tried to buy your sketches today.”

She scoffed, continuing to turn her glass anxiously. A blush warmed her cheeks, and a nervous smile tugged at her lips as she averted her eyes down to the table. “Sort of. Grad school is where I’m headed now.”

“Really?” Jess chimed in. “Where?”

Clearing her throat, Ella raked a hand through her hair. Though Jess tilted his head at her, she refused to meet his gaze. “It’s funny, actually. I’ve still got some things to work out...but UPenn.”

“No way! That’s right down the road from us!” Chris exclaimed.

Ella’s smile widened marginally, and excitement rose in her chest. “Yeah, it’s weird. I had a few I was choosing between, and Penn reached out and...I only confirmed a couple weeks ago. A few days before I got your invitation in the mail. Since I was coming down here anyway, I scheduled my interview with the Dean for tomorrow.”

“Well, congrats,” Matthew said, raising his bottle.

“Thanks,” she replied, feeling slightly silly as she toasted her water against their beers.

Before another moment had passed, Chris got a page on his beeper. Apparently, the poet who had performed at the open house had left something of his behind and would need to be let in early the next morning. Matthew and Chris began commiserating amongst themselves about the performer, who was apparently less than a joy to work with. Biting on the inside of her cheek, Ella tried to suppress her smile. Too much joy made her nervous. It meant always waiting for the other shoe to drop. She’d had the odd mixture of anxiety and anticipation brewing in her stomach since opening Jess’s package. It was too much of a coincidence for her to be going to a school five minutes away from where Jess worked. Too perfect. She didn’t trust it.

Beside her, Jess was trying equally hard to hold in his emotions. She would be in Philly. Right down the road. She hadn’t been right down the road from him in what felt like forever. There were still so many unknowns. But he couldn’t help the swell of his heart. What were the chances? Plastering on a smug smirk, a mask to hide his exhilaration at her news, he nudged her gently with his elbow.

“So, you’re Philly bound?”

“Seems that way,” she said, nodding.

He hummed in acknowledgement, pausing to gaze at her for a moment. Freckles and Bette Davis eyes and a deep, raspy voice. So different but so familiar. She offered him a tiny smile, caught up in the moment. A swarm of pleasant butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and again, she wished they could kiss. Inside their private world, as they once had been.

“Y’know, I think it was fate,” Jess said, smirk growing. “Us both ending up here.”

She snorted a laugh and shook her head slightly. “Not all that idealist bullshit again, Mariano.”

“Hey, not everything changes,” Jess shrugged, taking another sip.

“Guess not,” she said quietly, a fond sparkle in her hazel eyes. “But I’d expect nothing less from a Hemingway fetishist.”

Jess rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Stevie Nicks.”

Instead of retorting, Ella snatched the beer sitting before Jess and took a long sip. Setting it down in front of him again, she winked and then began to hum along to Julian Casablancas’s lyrics.

.   .   .

“I’m serious. I was really planning on just getting a motel,” Ella insisted.

Shushing her, a finger on his lips, Chris shook his head. He stood in the tiny kitchen, rummaging through the rusty fridge for some drunk food. Matthew was tipsy, and had already retreated to his room. Chris, however, had managed to get absolutely wasted. They’d practically dragged him up the stairs in Truncheon to the apartment above, while he babbled loudly, complaining about his boyfriend being out of town for the open house. Now, as Jess and Ella argued about her sleeping in the apartment, he offered slurred interjections and cackles off to the side.

Jess, having only drunk two beers over the course of the day, rolled his eyes at his friend. “Go to bed, man.”

“Make me, Jess,” Chris replied jovially, retrieving a box of fried chicken from behind the half-and-half. Straightening up, he shot them both a smug grin and made for the bedroom he shared with Matthew. “Have fun, kids.”

“Good luck fighting that sweater off your head,” Ella quipped, not able to stop the words before they left her mouth. Chris, for all his exuberance, was wearing deceptively stuffy clothes. A button-up with a patterned sweater over it, khakis.

Again, Chris only laughed. “She’s feisty. Let’s keep her forever.”

Smiling thinly, Ella gave him the finger. He blew her a kiss before entering the dark room and shutting the door loudly behind him. Ella winced slightly. She knew Matthew was probably already asleep in one of the room’s twin beds.

Jess ran a hand down his face, standing amid the cluttered mess of their living room.

Ella turned back to Jess, crossing her arms over her chest as an amused crease formed between her brows. “How’d you end up living with them again?”

“Long story.”

“I would imagine.”

“He’s usually not quite so intolerable, but it’s been a big day,” Jess said apologetically. “And he’s still super pissed his boyfriend had to go outta town for work.”

Ella shrugged. “Hey, no problem. I like them. But, yes, it has been a big day. And I don’t want to keep you up any longer. So, why don’t I just stay at a motel?”

Shaking his head, Jess gestured for her to follow him and led the way to his bedroom. “Yeah, right. It’s past midnight. You can just crash with me. Not like we haven’t shared a bed before.”

A heavy sigh escaped her lips. “Are you sure? At least let me take the couch. I’ve been sleeping on one for two years, anyway.”

“At Lane’s?” Jess asked, switching on the ceiling light as they entered.

Surveying the bedroom, a smile immediately came to Ella’s lips. The living room was an absolute mess, but he’d managed to keep his own room decently clean. In the small space, he had only a queen-sized bed, pushed against the wall with the windows, and a dresser, on top of which his boombox sat. Piles of books and CDs littered the scratched wood floor, mostly in the free corners. A framed poster of Nietzche hung above his bed, and she burst out laughing when she saw it, before she could help herself.

“What?” Jess asked, brows furrowed.

She pointed to the poster, then bit down on her thumb nail to stifle her giggles. “Nothing, I’m just glad you’re becoming self-aware.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Already overstaying your welcome, Stevens. The bathroom’s the first door on the left when you walk into the apartment. You can get changed, brush your teeth, whatever.”

Nodding, Ella slipped off her shoes near the door and put down her heavy shoulder bag. It only took a minute of rifling through before she found the pajamas and toothbrush she’d packed for the short trip. Since she was little, she couldn’t fall asleep before brushing her teeth first. Clutching the supplies in her arms, she turned back to Jess. He’d taken off his suit jacket and tossed it down on the bed, was unclasping his watch and setting it down on the dresser. He looked so grown up in the yellowish overhead light, bright against the dark green walls.

“This is really okay with you, Jess?” she asked, sounding shyer than he’d ever heard.

“Yeah,” he replied, flashing her a reassuring smile. “What kind of host would I be otherwise?”

Smiling back, Ella nodded again. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

As she left the room, Jess let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in and ran a hand over his mouth. He thought back to the night she’d let him sleep over, dragged him from the freezing back seat of his old car into her warm bedroom. It was the least he could do. Truly. But anxiety squeezed his insides tightly. He tried to shake it off. Ella herself had said he didn’t need to be nervous. He changed into some sweatpants and a t-shirt quickly, running his hands through his neat hair and turning it messy. When she returned, face washed and teeth brushed, he was just flicking on his bedside lamp and pulling back the blue comforter. He recognized the Bowie t-shirt she wore from some vague memory.

“No KISS shirt?” he asked.

She chuckled as she stuffed her dress and toothbrush into her bag near the door. “Oh, I never travel with that. Couldn’t bear for it to get lost.”

“Oh, right, my mistake,” Jess said. “You can turn out that switch, if you want.”

Ella turned off the overhead light, left only in the glow of his nightstand lamp. Before the nausea could overtake her, she powered through the shakiness of her hands and came to sit across from him. It didn’t need to be strange. She’d just gotten her best friend back. And they could sleep in the same bed as they had so many times before.

“Since I’m already taking advantage of your hospitality,” she began, eyeing the half-empty pack of Marlboros on the floor by the bed, “could I maybe borrow a cigarette?”

Smirking fondly, Jess nodded, reaching down to grab the pack and the lighter. He lit hers for her as she held it between her lips, and then his own. He cracked open the window and flicked ash out into the May midnight.

“What’s got you smoking?” he asked.

She sighed through her nose in white streams. “My interview with the Dean tomorrow. I mean, I’m already in. And they contacted me because of my portfolio. But, I don’t know. Anything could happen.”

“But it won’t,” Jess said. “It’ll be fine. You’re Lily Briscoe, remember?”

A weak smile crossed her face and she gave an unconvincing nod. Then, she looked back up at him curiously. “What about you? Still smoke as much as you did in high school?”

Jess shook his head. “No. Almost never. But I may have panicked about this whole open house thing last night.”

“Looked like it went great,” she said, tapping ash out the window, sitting cross-legged.

Shrugging, Jess leaned back against the wall behind his bed. “We’ll see what that lady from the paper writes.”

“Who cares what she thinks?” Ella asked.

“People who could spend their money here,” Jess answered, chuckling breathily.

Waving a dismissive hand, Ella took a final drag of her cigarette. She crushed it out on the windowsill, where she saw the small, circular remnants of smokes past, before throwing butt out the window into the dumpster below. “Maybe. Seems like you’ve got a pretty decent underground following already.”

“And you call me the idealist,” he said, shaking his head and tossing out his own cigarette.

She laughed lightly, following Jess’s lead as he closed his window again and got under the covers. Soon, they faced each other with their heads against Jess’s pillows. They smelled like him. After shutting off his lamp, Jess regarded Ella in the dim light. He felt like he’d stepped through a door into a memory or a dream.

“Speaking of Truncheon, tell me about the book,” she said quietly.

“Which book?”

“Your book, Sherlock,” she teased.

He sighed, swallowing dryly. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” she replied. “I mean, when did you write it? How did you write it? Did ever end up getting a computer, or-”

“Woah, Stevens,” he interrupted, snickering at her rapid-fire questions. “I started writing it when I was still in Stars Hollow.”

She furrowed her brows. “What?”

“Yeah. That notebook I came back for when I picked up my car? I sort of...started before I left. I took a break in California. But I started taking advantage of the library computers when I got back to New York.”

“So, it really was an On The Road thing.”

“Not quite so ambitious,” he said. “But, once I read that Stephen King book you got me...I just got started.”

“And you never told me?” she asked.

He only shrugged in response.

Ella shook her head slightly, watching him with furrowed brows. “Curiouser and curiouser, Mariano.”

“I wanted to surprise you with it.”

“Well, you did.” She thought she saw a flush rise to his cheeks, but couldn’t quite tell in the low light. Something indecipherable flashed across his eyes as he hesitated. She took the lead instead. “Hey Jess?”

“Hm?”

“I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Jess rolled his eyes, really blushing now. His face went scarlet, and he uttered a nervous chuckle. “Thanks, Daria.”

“Anytime, James Dean.”

Ignoring the flip of his stomach, Jess let the compliment roll off him like water and faced her earnestly. “Did you say you were still livin’ with Lane?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It was just...easier than getting my own place. A smaller chunk of the rent to pay. Especially with how many classes I was taking, and it was right across the street from Luke’s. At some point, we upgraded to a futon, so it was a little easier to sleep.”

Jess snorted. “I’m pretty sure you could fall asleep in the middle of a tornado, get transported to Oz, then back to Kansas, and wouldn’t wake up the whole time.”

“Be that as it may,” she said pointedly, “it was pretty okay. But Lane and Zach are getting married in a couple weeks. It would be time to move out even if it wasn’t for grad school.”

“Lane and Zach?” Jess asked, brows furrowed in surprise. “What about that Dave guy?”

Ella sighed softly. “He went to California for college. Eventually, they broke up. And she was on and off with Zach and...I don’t know. He’s not the worst guy. And I know there’s no talking her out of it, anyway.”

“People are gonna do what they’re gonna do,” Jess agreed, thinking back to his own mother’s last wedding.

“I’ll miss her, though. Without Lane, I would probably still have majored in history. Ended up teaching at Stars Hollow High.”

“No way.”

“I’m not so sure. But just seeing Lane play with the band all the time...she looked so happy. Even though she had no money and her mom was pissed at her. I thought maybe actually trying to do what you love wasn’t such a crazy idea,” she explained, voice husky and tired, but so lively.  

It made Jess smile. “That’s great, Eleanor.”

She shrugged again and cleared her throat, wincing slightly. “Ugh, Jesus. Smoking is never worth it. I don’t think I’ve smoked since...since the last time we saw each other. The morning after you left.”

His face fell. There it was. Finally. “I’m sorry, Elle.”

“For what?” she asked dismissively. The past was past.

“For that night. Everything. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It’s okay, Jess.”

“Luke gave me this stupid self-help book and I read it and we kinda went to the wedding together and I got...mixed up.”

Smiling softly, Ella shifted in her spot to move a little closer to him. “I’m gonna need more details on that self-help book later.”

He uttered a self-conscious scoff.

“But, really Jess, it’s okay. I understand. And...I just...I wasn’t ready,” she said finally, struggling for her words. “After I moved out of my dad’s house...I still needed Lane. And Lorelai. And Luke. I always thought getting away would fix everything. But...I wasn’t ready for you.”

A sad smile tugged at his lips. “I don’t think I was ready for you, either.”

Breathing deeply, Ella let the moment pass between them. Forgiveness, maybe? On both sides? She wasn’t quite sure what it was, but she knew it made her feel calmer. Maybe ripping old wounds open was worth it if it meant they would finally get the chance to heal.

“I bet you started breaking hearts when you got here though. What with the starry-eyed starving artist thing you’ve got going on,” she said. She knew it was a flimsy attempt at being sly, but she just couldn’t bring herself to ask him outright. And he was letting her sleep in his bed. That was a positive sign. But she needed to know for sure.

He chuckled slightly and shook his head. “Not really. Turns out, people don’t flock to the guy with nothing but a shitty final draft and a duffel bag to his name.��� Then, after a beat of silence, sirens blaring from somewhere off in the distance of the city, he spoke again. “What about you?”

The inquisitive, almost hopeful, tone in his voice made her heart skip a beat. “Nothing extraordinary. A couple dates. Guys. Girls. Never got anything to stick.”

“Hm.” Jess paused, watching Ella watch him.

The sound of the singing crickets mixed strangely with the murmur of the city, even in the early Monday morning hours. Ella tried to remember each detail of the present moment. Lying beside Jess in Philadelphia, preparing to go to grad school, finally out from under the thumbs of her father and Stars Hollow. And in love. She decided on it finally. Nothing had changed. She loved Jess as she had for so long, even if she had never truly realized it. Maybe she had, but was too scared to admit it. She thought back to the day he took her to the Met, riding back home in his car, nothing but the dark, empty highway around them. She’d almost said it then. But she hadn’t. Even then, though, she’d been completely his. All or nothing. Do or die.

Slowly, she brought her hand out from under the covers and placed it on his cheek. She stroked his stubbly skin with her thumb. The boy who’d turned into a man all on his own, who had always been so guarded and so kind. Who gave her a bed when she was drunk and bought her charcoals on Valentine’s Day and took her to museums and wrote books for her and hung her drawings on his wall. Who she had taken to a private movie and driven to the emergency room and kissed as an Interpol song played and brought in from the cold. The give and take which had always been there, making her feel safe. Easy. Home.

Taking a moment to close his eyes, Jess quieted all the thoughts screaming in his head.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

“I missed you too,” he replied, too overwhelmed to say much of anything else. He remembered the night on the bridge when they’d decided to try together. How the nerves had made his stomach churn. But she’d taken his hand in hers. She’d made the first move. And made his whole being feel calm. She had cared for him when he couldn’t care for himself. It made him feel like a teenager again. Her touch. Her voice. Her mind.

He wound his arm around her waist and brought her closer, hugging her tightly. They were silent and comfortable. Eventually, Ella’s breathing deepened and Jess felt her muscles relax, holding her. Outside, he could see the full moon reflecting light against a clear night sky. And he felt so content he could barely shut his eyes for a second, fearful of missing anything.

[burnouts3s3]

Maria-sama Ga Miteru, a blu-ray review

(Disclaimer: The following is a non-profit unprofessional blog post written by an unprofessional blog poster. All purported facts and statement are little more than the subjective, biased opinion of said blog poster. In other words, don’t take anything I say too seriously.) Just the facts 'Cause you're in a Hurry! Manufacturer’s Suggested Retail Price (MSRP):  99 USD How much I paid: 69.99 USD, the Pre Order price Animation Studio: DEEN Original Localizer: Nozomi Entertainment Licensed and Localized Currently by: Sentai Filmworks Audio: Japanese Audio with Subtitles Number of Episodes: 39 Episodes and 5 OVAs equaling a run time of 1237 Minutes. Length per Episode: 25 Minutes on average. 21 Without Intro and Ending song. Length per OVA: 50 Minutes on Average Number of Discs: 8 Blu Ray Discs Episodes per Disc: Seasons 1, 2 and 4: Episodes 1 through 9 on the 1st Blu-ray Disc. Episodes 10 through 13 on the 2nd Blu-ray disc as well as “Don’t Let Mother Maria Know”, funny ‘outtakes’ of the characters in Chibi From. Season 3: OVAs 1 – 3 on 1st Blu-ray Disc. OVAs 4-5 on 2nd Blu-Ray Disc. Aspect Ratio: 4:3 for Seasons 1 and 2. 16:9 for Seasons 3 and 4. Are there plans for a DVD release?: A DVD release of the series exists from Nozomi Entertainment. Does this come a digital voucher to redeem?: No. This only has the Blu-ray discs. Also on: HiDive, Sentai Filmwork’s Streaming Service. Bonus Features: Clean Opening Animation, Clean Closing Animation and “Don’t tell Mother Maria”, ‘outtakes’ of the characters in chibi form. Notable Localization Changes: Onee-sama, a popular phrase Yumi addresses Sachiko with, has been translated into “Dear Sister” (which is more or less the same thing). Honorfics such as –san or –sama have been omitted in the subs or changed. (For example, when a character refers to Sachiko as Sachiko-sama, the subs translate it into “Lady Sachiko”). Make of that as you will. My Personal Biases: I actually reviewed Marimite a long time ago on this site. I still hold fond memories of the show to this day.

My Verdict: A long running staple of the Shoujo genre and said to have kickstarted the Yuri trend that gave us Kannazuki no Miko, Strawberry Panic, Aoi Hana and Sasameki Koto, Maria-sama Ga Miteru still holds up to this very day. And thanks to Sentai Filmwork’s ability to print it on Blu-ray, now even newcomers can enjoy the quiet campus of Lilian Academy. Buy it! Maria Sama Ga Miteru, a blu ray review

“The Maidens who assemble in Mother Maria’s Garden have such angelic smiles that today, too, they pass through the tall gate. Their pure bodies and minds are wrapped in dark colored school uniforms. The pleats on their skirts shouldn’t be noticeable. Their while sailor collars should always be tidy. Walking slowly is preferred here. St. Lilian’s Academy is a Garden for Maidens.”

Our Protagonist, Yumi Fukuzawa, is a freshman in St. Lillian Girls’ academy, an all-girls Catholic School. One day, while praying in front of the Virgin Mary, Mother Maria, someone comes up to her. It is none other than the school’s idol, Sachiko Ogasawara. While Sachiko fixes Yumi’s collar, Yumi’s friend, Tsutako, takes a photograph and blackmails Yumi to get the scoop. While Yumi goes to the Yamayuri council, which acts as the governing body for the school, Sachiko storms out of the room and trips on top of her. Sachiko attempts to make Yumi her petite Souer. Through the Souer system, upperclass girls can make a lowerclass girl their ‘sister’ by handing them a Rosary. If the underclass girl accepts, they become partners and look after each other until graduation. While seemingly innocent at first, the system can lead to all sorts of conflicts and misunderstandings but also joy and laughter. This is the story of how Yumi first accepts Sachiko’s Rosary and ends when she eventually bestows that rosary to another.   I really love Yumi as a character. While she does act as the ‘ordinary outsider’ meant to be the audience Point of view character, there’s a charm to Yumi. She’s actually very quick on her feet, eager to help and very kind and friendly. She does make mistakes but there’s a very human quality and the small moments where she shines (initially rejecting Sachiko’s rosary, practicing her routine to impress the graduating Seniors, helping out during the school festivals, standing up to some rich snobs) that really makes her shine. (Though I will give some credit to Yumi as she manages to possess proper hand eye coordination and inner ear balance that her successors Himeko Kurusugawa and Nagisa Aoi seem to lack.) In some ways, Sachiko was the inspiration that lead to the creations of such characters such as Shizuru Fujino from My-Hime, Chikane Himemiya from Kannazuki no Miko and Shizuma Hanazono from Strawberry Panic. On the surface, Sachiko is a cold, stern and almost unbendable force of nature, bent on getting her way. However, slowly but surely, Yumi melts the icy exterior to find the human underneath. (It also helps that Sachiko occasionally is the butt of the joke at times, such as, being her first time at a fast food restaurant, she remembers to order correctly and pay the server, but forgets to pick up the food). Among my favorite characters is the adorably lovable Satou Sei, a senior of the school and the canon lesbian of the show. Sei is often flirtatious but also very humorous to boot.  There’s a sort of fandom clash as many people ship Sei and Yumi together and Shimako and Sachiko together.  (There’s the implication that if Sei had not picked Shimako to be her petite seour, she would have picked Yumi and Sachiko is jealous of that fact since she wanted to give Shimako her rosary first, but Shimako refused her). Rounding out the cast are Rei and Yoshino, a Kendo Senior and her sickly cousin who might switch the idea of a tomboy on its head and Touko, Sachiko’s cousin who’s prickly exterior might hide someone much more vulnerable and Noriko, a girl who might share a love of Buddhist statues the Shimako does. A lot of people cite Maria Watches Over Us (or Marimite for short) as the revitalization of the Class S genre, which focuses on romantic friendships between school girls. A lot of people have pointed out that the genre has had its fair share of negative stereotypes and doesn’t exactly portray a healthy or realistic relationships for young queer women. But, I’ve always stated I would rather have a problematic show that affects me emotionally over a well-meaning show that has a good social message but leaves me cold. Of course, the show is self-aware of its genre roots and occasionally pokes fun at it. (At one point, Yoshino does the ‘rich girl laugh’ with another person and all it does is draw unwanted attention from passerbys). If there’s definitely a weak spot to the series, it’s definitely the animation. Panning shots and freeze frames are all present here, but the direction is solid enough where you’re enjoying it even when you notice the stitches and seems. (It’s an early 2000’s show centering about the school lives of ordinary girls. What were you expecting, Darling in the Franxx?) Granted, Season 3 is when the animation quality (as well as the aspect ratio) picks up but even the older seasons are passable and enjoyable to watch. What sells the show isn’t necessarily the animation, but character interactions with one another. Those looking for Women Love Women relationships probably aren’t going to find it here, but it did lead to the inspiration for other works to tackle. Each movement, each subtle touch or facial reaction or slip of the tongue feels weighty. You can tell there’s so much more being said than what’s on the screen and the characters missing or picking up on those subtleties really is the highlight. Season 3 is where the show changes format from a half hour episodic series to an hour long OVA (Original Video Animation) format and they play out more like self-contained movies than a series of over-arching episodes. And yes, the blu-rays also include “Don’t let Mother Maria Know.”. These are a series of humorous shorts included with the original DVD releases that contain cartoonized versions of the characters engaging in very silly behavior and outtakes. 

After Nozomi Entertainment sold the rights off, Sentai Filmworks bought them and did a pretty good job localizing the show. The show contains no English Dub, but translates the Japanese text to pretty close to its original source material. One thing to note is the lack of honorfics. Honorfics are titles one refers to when addressing another person, like –san meaning Mr. or Ms. in English. “Onee-sama” is translated to “Dear Sister” while “Sachiko-sama” is translated to “Lady Sachiko”. (Though for some reason, Kashiwagi’s nickname for Sachiko, Sacchan, is kept in). CAVEAT: There’s the implication that Maria Watches Over Us feels dated in its depictions of girls’ relationships and class differences and promotes not quite so healthy relationships. But, had it not been for Studio DEEN and the characters of Yumi and Sachiko, we might have never gotten Himeko and Chikane or Shizuru and Natsuki or Fumi and Akira or Kazama and Sumika or Kase and Yamada or Touko and Yuu. Hell, even Flip Flappers did a parody of Marimite for an episode. With Nozomi Entertainment selling off the rights (as well as Seasons 2 and 3 DVDs being sold for outrageous prices), Sentai Filmworks has done the anime community a service by preserving this work and making it available to Western audiences. So, it all but depresses me to know that this great work will go unnoticed while the inevitable fans order the next Umaru merchandise instead. If you have enough of an attention span to watch a show that doesn’t have constant explosions, fanservice or attack names being shouted out, it’s definitely worth a look see. Of course, speaking as someone who binge watches Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure during his off hours, I enjoyed every bit I had with Maria-sama ga Miteru.

Verdict: Buy it!

[pi-cat000]

MSA time travel idea (part 9)

Summary: Arthur falls off a cliff and lands in the past.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Vivi POV, Part 8

Part 10: here

Arthur steps out of the office building’s foyer and is immediately accosted by the uncomfortably bright sunlight. He winces, shading his eyes, taking a moment to adjust and shake off the usual full-body jitters skittering along his limbs and torso. The air is hot, dry, and itchy. After being blasted with the cold air-conditioning for almost three hours, it's especially jarring. He takes a breath and lets the tension go, feeling a whole lot lighter now the hard part of the trip is done and dusted. All it took was a few hours of anxious waiting,-pretty standard considering he had rocked up without an appointment,-and he now has his new prescription and a referral to the specialist he actually wants to see. It had taken him a ridiculously long time to find this woman the first time around, what with having to cycle through an extensive line-up of medical professionals, and he’s glad he can skip the drama this time. Though, he’s not sure how he’s going to manage appointments when he’s road tripping across the country with Vivi and Lewis.

Arthur frowns down at the referral paper, continuing down the steps to the footpath running adjacent to the building. There’s no way he is letting Lewis and Vivi go on a supernatural road trip without him. Not with them being entirely in the dark about how dangerous the whole thing could be. Sure, they had Mystery, but he is beginning to suspect that Mystery didn’t care much for anyone who wasn’t Vivi (and he's not even sure he can trust that anymore). He would just have to manage alone until they returned. If they returned. Arthur forcefully shoves the paper down into the front pocket of his shoulder bag, trying not to think too hard on a topic bound to bring his mood lower than it already was.

As he turns to head back to his van, his gaze travels automatically across the plaza filled with shoppers, past the line of dinners and restaurants, to land on the looming grey, brick, cube-like structure of St Peter’s Medical and Emergency Centre. It’s the largest building in the block aside from the few office buildings behind it, and even those weren’t very high, causing it to lean almost threateningly over the shorter boutiquey outlets in the street just before it. Dry wind ruffles his hair pulling him its direction, and his steps falter. He stares at the structure wearily. Funnily, in this life, he’s never actually stepped foot in the Emergency Centre.

So entranced is he by the odd sense of dislocation that he walks straight into a thin woman pushing an overladen trolley.

“Hey, watch where you’re going,” She snaps, pausing to glare, while he’s busy ricocheting backward and stumbling in his attempt to keep his feet.

“Ah,” Arthur yanks his attention away from the hospital and tries for an apologetic tone, “Sorry?”  It’s not like the woman’s been affected by his mishap. Arthur is the one with sore shins. The lady huffs and continues on, a cloud of irritation following her down the path.

The small commotion has drawn the attention of several strangers who have all turned to give him a brief glance before getting on with their day. Now feeling overexposed and increasingly off balance, Arthur power walks around the building to the parking lot and the safety of his van. The back of his neck is prickling uncomfortably, and there is a disconcerting, foreboding taint, hanging about his shoulders right up until he slams and locks his van door. He takes a deep breath and rests his head against the steering wheel. Then runs a hand through his hair, twisting a strand between two fingers.

Now that’s over with he should focus on the more enjoyable parts of his trip. Mainly, finding equipment and collecting some components to mess around with during those long hours spent alone in his room avoiding people. It’s a good thing he knows exactly where to go. Future knowledge: great for saving friends from certain disaster and navigating unfamiliar towns. He turns the key and pulls out.

A brief wave of melancholic nostalgia has him taking an additional turn around the block, passing several familiar shops. Tomb Tome, a frequent haunt of his high school years and Future Vivi’s old place of employment. He slows so he can stare at the shopfront, which is plastered with familiar colourful posters, pamphlets and info on local gaming and comic events, obscuring most of the shop’s windows. Vivi probably would have enjoyed it there a lot more if not for the circumstanced of their temporary move. It’s weird to think that she might never work there in this timeline. Not if his plans to change the future are successful. He speeds up, facing forward, massaging his right thumb into the steering wheel. The second-hand tech shop is a few streets down, and he pushes forwards, banishing the odd sense of disappointment.

Headphones and some slow music wash out the world until it’s just him and shelves of old computers, spare parts, and various mechanical and technical equipment. Slowly, the last few days of stress and anxiety drain away. He buys a whole lot more than he means to, which, on top of the doctor’s visit, takes a significant bite out of his personal saving. It doesn't bother him as much as it might.

It's towards the end of his shopping trip, or as Lewis would call it his ‘retail therapy,’ that the nagging feeling of apprehension, which he’d been trying to ignore since the running into the woman outside the doctor’s office, comes to bite him on the ass.

He’s back at his van, shuffling around with his overstuffed shopping bags when a shout, loud enough to penetrate through his music, catches his attention.

“Hey!”

Arthur pulls the buds from his ears, glancing over his shoulder to watch a heavy-set man, with an impressive beard and a leather vest, stomp towards him. There is something familiar and disconcerting about him.

“Hey, you! Kid!” The strange man yells again in a gravely southern accent. Arthur glances around, but he’s the only person out in the street. He watches the stranger approach, trepidation beginning to coil in his gut.

“You’re the kid from the diner, the one that made the suggestion about my bike’s engine.”

Oh. It clicks. This is the famed Leather Guy. It’s been almost two years, but Arthur still recognises the perpetually scowly face of a man never more than a few wrong words away from a fist fight.

“Err, yeah?” He answers slowly, hesitating.  

“Name’s Micky,” Newly named Micky introduces, coming to a stop a few paces from Arthur.

“Sorry about taking a swing at you kid. Had a rough day. Went in to apologise but only saw your big purple friend,”

Arthur begins sorting through his key ring as subtly as possible, answering, “No problem. I could probably have been a bit more polite when pointing it out,”

He knows not to judge people based on appearance alone, but this guy’s looking awfully intimidating. His heart rate is increasing, and he can already feel the subtle flush of adrenalin, wiring him up in case he needs to move fast.  

“Hey now, no need to be modest, kid. Not when you know your stuff. It’s good I ran into because I’ve been needing a second opinion on my bike.”

Micky shoves a hand into his jacket pocket and takes another step forward. A step too many in Arthur’s opinion.

“The mechanic I took it too was as clueless as a dim bulb if you catch my meaning.”

“Hehe, where’d you go? Donald and Son’s Repairs?” He laughs half-heartedly. Donald and Son’s is only other mechanic within several miles of the Pepper’s diner. Though, he’s sure there’s a few around this town as well.

“Yeah, actually, went there and they did a piss-poor job. If you could take a look at it, I’d feel a load better. Have a long trip coming, you see. Can’t have my baby breaking down in the middle of nothing now.”

Why does he get the feeling that Micky has never been to Donald and Son’s and that his bike is fine? Arthur, trying to keep his body language as light as possible, locates his key. He’d learnt from many a bad experience to trust his instincts. Right now they’re telling him to get out of dodge.

“Actually, I’m kind of in a rush at the moment,”

It’s not even a lie. He needs to start heading home soon if he wants to beat Lewis and Vivi who would be coming over after Vivi’s shift ended at five.

“But I work at Kingsman Mechanics …you can bring your bike there if you want it fixed,” he suggests, inserting his key into the door, preparing to make a break for it.

Something clicks, and it’s not the sound of his van being unlocked.

“Yeah, I don’t think so, kid. How about you step back from the van,”

Between looking down at the door and his key, Micky has pulled a gun, pointing it in his direction. Arthur freezes. Micky’s holding it casually so, to anyone looking, it wouldn’t be immediately apparent.

“Come on, then. Promise this’ll only be for a few seconds,” Micky says gruffly, seemingly irritated that Arthur hadn’t just followed him to straight into a back alley like a chump.

“Ah,” Arthur’s replies intelligently while his brain spins its wheels, attempting process this sudden change in circumstance.

He stares at the gun then up at Micky.

“Okay?” He offers when nothing better comes to mind.

It’s not the first time he’s had a gun pointed at him. When he had been road tripping with Lewis and Vivi he always seemed to be the one getting held up and chased by the wackos behind whatever ‘haunting’ they investigated. Remain calm. Don’t panic. Don’t antagonise. It’s the same sort of process.

Surprisingly, it’s not nearly as panic-inducing as those previous times. Instead of the fear completely wiping out logical thought like a bulldozer it’s just keeping him nicely tense and ready. How is that fair? Point a gun in his face and he’s not even flinching, but put him in a room with Lewis and he can barely function without throwing up the contents of his stomach. Just add it to the list of failures.

Note: Sorry about the two-week delay between parts, I was off battling the education system. I’m hoping to have a part 10 done in the next 2-3 days so you don’t have to sit on the cliff-hanger for too long. Hope people enjoy the slight shift in pace/tone.  

[clairen45]

I have enjoyed and been very impressed with your thoughtful metas. I was just curious if you had any thoughts on the symbolism of two in Star Wars. I thought about it a bit and I can't unsee it: 1) The binary suns; 2) Luke and Leia being twins; 3) The necessity of a co-pilot to fly the MF; 4) The rule of two; 5) The padowna/jedi master reationship; 6) Even Leia's ring in the ST... do you think there is something there that will inform the resolution of the saga?

Dear anon, wow, thank you so much for these kind words that go straight to my heart. And thank you also for this lovely ask! Sorry it took me so long to get to write and answer to this one! Yes, indeed, two is everywhere. And thank you so much for bringing Leia’s ring to my attention. It was too obvious to notice, I know! Well, I understand so much that you can’t unsee the number two in the saga. Of course, you can’t.

Before I elaborate on the points you make, may I begin by saying that we were literally ushered into the saga by two specific numbers that keep on repeating themselves. In the forms of our famous couple of droids: R2D2 and C3PO. I have two questions on the backburner about R2D2 but let me state and repeat how much this little droid is essential to the series and how much TLC he deserves all the time! So 2 and 3. The magic numbers on which the saga is built. On the one hand, 2 can be viewed as the mostly universal basis for all thought and the way at which we envision and represent the world. Binary, dual, antagonistic, divided: white and black, light and dark, night and day, heaven and earth, good and evil, male and female, me and others, yin and yang, fire and water, life and death, nature and culture… it goes on and on and on and on…2 is a fascinating number because it encompasses both destruction and creation. It is also the number of the duality inherent to every human being: the Janus, the potential everyone has to be either good or evil, the inner conflict. Out of the two comes out conflict, opposition, war. But out of two also comes out life, creation, balance. It takes a man and a woman to have a baby. It takes two to make three. It takes two to make the world go round.

3 on the other hand is a spiritual number, often present in most religions. Think of the Holy Trinity. It is also a temporal number, the one of the cycle: birth, growth, death; past, present, future; infancy, maturity, old age. It is often the number associated with heroe’s journeys and quests: places where they go, foes or friends they meet on the way, number of sons or daughters who are sent on a quest or who have to share a legacy. 3 is also the nuclear family: father, mother, and son. The triangle is a potent mystical symbol, associated with creation and thus also the female genitalia. So, it is funny that in our couple of droids, R2 seems often like the “male” element of the pairing and C3P0 the “female” element. With all the clichés associated though: R2 is active, mostly silent, often rude, loyal, and associated with technical skills. He often uses a little tool that comes out and is akin to a penis. He frequently saves the day. He goes with Luke. Whereas C3P0 is talkative, complains all the time, seems mostly decorative (huge emphasis on his appearance throughout the movies) , often creates issues, and is frequently shut down and physically abused by the others. C3PO goes with Leia. Yep. That sucks. No wonder he was hailed as a God by a primitive tribe who would certainly celebrate female powers (think also how welcoming they are with Leia, but how hostile they are towards the men of the group). 3 is the narrative reference in the series, because it is built as a trilogy, even better as a triptych of 3 trilogies. Think also that the MF is supposed to have 3 brains, of which being L3….

So, dear anon, you bring out fantastic references. Yes, it takes two to fly the LF, yes the rule of two for the Sith Lords, yes the Padawan and the Master, yes the twins, yes the binary suns on Tatooine and on Ahch-To as Luke is fading away… Don’t forget Han’s set of … dice.

The ring, that I had never thought before, is fantastic!

It was given center stage and dramatic flair on the poster representing Leia for the TLJ campaign. Carrie Fisher is credited with insisting on the importance of jewelry in TLJ. She really wanted jewelry for the characters and indeed, on the Visual Dictionary for TLJ, you find tons of info on what the characters wear. Stuff you didn’t necessarily pay attention to, like Poe Dameron’s ring… Anyways… This ring is obviously meaningful. This is something I found on a site called The Adventurine :

As for the meaning of the jewels, there has been speculation that the dramatic ring with two blue lapis-style stones in an Arts and Crafts swirl is her engagement ring from Han Solo. This is unlikely, mainly because she is wearing it on her right hand. She does have a ring with a gem that looks like an opal on her left hand in The Last Jedi. If they still follow the old-fashion rule that, that finger is the finger in space, it certainly could be her engagement ring and a way of holding on to Han’s memory.

Ok, let’s imagine this is an engagement ring and a way of having Solo paid homage to on the posters and throughout the movie. We know that Leia is in mourning. Her hairdo is a mourning braid as they used to wear on Alderaan. The movie did not deliver a Solo funeral as the novelizations did, so the look of Leia is a way of paying tribute to Solo and her love for him. As an engagement ring, it is cool: two stones that are exactly alike and equal, that each have their own space but are nevertheless interwined through a complex swirl of gold. There’s almost an 8 quality to the pattern, the number for infinity and repetition. So it is like a beautiful wedding vow, o equality, unity, and love forever. Now think even more. Couldn’t it evcoke our Reylo couple? Two lonely planets, both equal, that reach out to each other “across the stars”? Because as different and divided Leia and Han were, they never were equals. And when was the very last time we got to see this gorgeous piece of jewelry that is meant to represent an “engagement”, a “promise ring”, possibly even a wedding band?

Right at the end, with an emphasis on the broken saber. It’s not on the saber, but it’s the promise. The promise that “we have everything we need”, that out of division, union may come. And, think of it, even Rey’s scar, the “hands that reach across the galaxy”, is also reminiscent of the pattern on the ring:

There is an interesting parallel in the Solo movie. Qi’ra is “marked” with a tatoo that lets L3 (number 3 again) know that she is “taken”, not free to reciprocate Han’s love and follow him. In the end, not only does he have the tatoo (permanently branded into her skin), she eventually also gets the ring:

But because this is a ring for power and not a ring for love, she does not put it on, but uses it in the device on the ship to conjure up Maul’s appearance.

Another note: there is NO exchange of rings in the secret wedding between Padmé and Anakin. But our trusted droids are there though…and they are the wedding rings. Padmé gives R2 to Anakin and Anakin gives C3PO to Padmé.

[pacificwanderer]

Sometimes I think Kylo will be presented as a smooth, calculative villain in the trailers for IX. At other times, I see how blatant Lucasfilm is being (Reylo/Anidala parallels on official posters, Rian making the sex scene comment, supplementary novels painting baby Ben in a sympathetic light, official employees encouraging the shippers, the new SW databank information, etc). And I wonder if they might present Kylo in the trailers as someone who is doing an awful job at being Supreme Leader.

Hey Nonnie,

That’s really interesting to speculate about. I think that much of the GA thinks Kylo is going to be the big bad for EPIX, so we’ll have to see if they play into that at all for the trailers (I still maintain, first shot is of Kylo gasping for air LOL), so maybe more of the latter than the former?

But I think it’s probably going to look pretty bleak for Kylo (though I’ll be happily surprised if it’s otherwise, I have my heart DEAD SET on Solo Sass Ben at some point in EPIX–DO IT LF, DOOO ITTTTTTTT). Could show us a bit of conflict from Hux/Poe (because I do think they’re going to be a source of conflict from within the FO and what remains of the Resistance). And then some pew pew shooting and space battles. Maybe play up the romantic drama a bit and make it seem like Rey and Kylo are facing off? Tease that there might be some “death” here? MAAAAYBE some shots of Jakku (WHY DOES EVERYONE WANT TO GO BACK TO JAKKU?)

But I dunno. The first trailer for both TFA and TLJ reveal a whole lot of nothing, but also a lot? TFA: Who are the main characters?–Rey, Finn, and Kylo and the call to adventure. TLJ: It’s time for the Jedi to end, meeting the mentor–despite how that ends up going; kinda bleak, some conflict there between the dark side and the light and the need for balance.

It’s pretty wild how much the ST lines up with the Hero’s Journey–I don’t know why I’m surprised every time I realize it lol, but when I sit down and actually look at how it plays out, it’s pretty clear that they’re writing with it in mind, even if there are some subversions.

Incidentally, I watched what I believe was the RotS trailer (the internet is weird) and holy sweet Moses lol that trailer just reveals the entire plot, but the trailer for RotJ is SUPER FUN. Really plays up the explosions a lot, also teases an answer for the “Is Darth Vader my father?” (because not everyone believed that Darth Vader was telling Luke the truth), and I also loved the hell out of how they made sure to say: “The strength of a leader” for Leia. GOOD TRAILER.

Though these trailers are noooothing like the ST stuff haha, so no clues there, I’m thinking. Honestly, there’s not much else on the planet that makes me as happy as a new SW trailer, so I caaaaannot wait (the ones for the ST still give me shivers).

Cheers, Nonnie!

[petshopfox]

Pet Shop Boys - West End Girls

Unreal City, under the brown fog of a winter dawn. Earth hath not anything to show more fair. Dirty old river, must you keep rolling, flowing on into the night. London – the lifeblood of the country and the vampire that sucks it back up.

Among other teenage favourites such as George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty Four and the Guinness Book of British Hit Singles, the Eyewitness Guide to London was a library staple. Before the age of seventeen I never made the trip on the route of the Flying Scotsman down to King’s Cross; in fact, bar a school coach trip to Dover en route to France, I’d never been further south than Matlock. But there I was, lying on my bed, fitting Monopoly streets into the A to Z, memorising the names of the boroughs and their railway stations. I was doing what probably thousands if not millions of ‘provincial’ Britons had done before me, embarking on a love-hate relationship with a city I’d never seen.

I finally made the journey on a school trip in 1998. The A-level art students headed off to the National Gallery; I visited UCL with a friend, had a slice of overpriced pizza for lunch in Leicester Square, then reconvened with the English lit students to see Othello at the National. It was sticky hot, and I felt disappointed for most of the time. It was almost worse to come to London for one day, and not get to do or see any of the things on my list, than never go at all. The schedule was so overdetermined I had no time to gawp at the tube posters or read the blue plaques, no time to catch myself realising I’d jumped through the rabbit hole into Wonderland.  But then, post-play, we had to cross Waterloo Bridge. The skyline shimmered into focus, St Paul’s ghostly with floodlight, the river lapping against the Embankment. I’ll be back, I said to myself, and a blood-rush flushed me all over. London isn’t a city of instant epiphanies. You don’t see it and die; it can be ugly and gawky, ill-assembled and unphotogenic. But there are always clicks; joints snapping into place; gear shifts. That moment on the bridge was one such: like a photographic print gradually darkening in the developing fluid, London was emerging.

Listen carefully to the opening of ‘West End Girls’ and this is exactly what you hear: London flickering into life, beginning to glitter through the fog. It’s morning, and someone walks into the light from the Paddington concourse. Their heels take to the wet pavement, and their heart beats faster as they scour the street for a taxi. The pulse begins to assert itself, and then the synth string chords – those chords – dark, cool and grand, clean and sleek as a black cab. And a pause, ever so slight, before the new arrival decides to walk; to take in the rush on foot, buoyed airily by the Pet Shop Boys’ smooth minimalism, slinking through the crowds. It’s all there in the video, as a rapid montage of random faces gives way to Neil and Chris, who take to their heels in a vaporous, ghostly Soho, like sombre night-watchmen coming off shift. ‘West End Girls’ is the sound of London settling into focus. Eight million people waking up to the distant rumble of tubes and screech of buses; eight million people rubbing their eyes as the greatest synth bassline in eighties pop music rings out from their clock radios. 

It must have been quite an awakening, back then in 1985. It seemed to arrive fully-formed; not just a song, but an aesthetic (though the original Bobby Orlando version from the previous year proves how crucial Stephen Hague was in realising the song’s latent atmospheres). This was not the barroom and dog-track London of Ian Dury, nor was it the hazy, romanticised cityscape of The Kinks. Tennant and Lowe are, of course, northerners, and thus outsiders, though they don’t so much crash the party as float spectrally in a corner with a martini and a raised eyebrow. When the Boys first broke into the charts, much was made of Tennant’s former career at Smash Hits, the foremost evidence cited for his apparently ‘ironic’ take on pop. But I’ve often thought that the beautiful balance they strike between the knowing and the credulous is the product of northern eyes surveying southern landscapes. They are detached, perhaps even sceptical at times; but there’s also that Eyewitness Guide in the bedroom, a city learned and loved, an excitement at having gone through the portals at King’s Cross and slipped into the anonymity of the throng. Despite Tennant having said on more than one occasion that ‘West End Girls’ was inspired by The Waste Land – ‘too many shadows, whispering voices’ is a true summary of Eliot’s fractured epic indeed – the song is too stimulated by what’s going on around it to be either a lament for the lost or a prophecy of doom. It does sound dangerous – there’s something dark and doleful in that bass – but it’s the kind of danger that makes you feel alive and adrenalized. It’s determined to keep its cool, determined not to spend its money all at once; but despite this caution, it’s still the sound of two northerners who will never quite fail to wonder at their adopted home.

It’s a dichotomy embodied by the Boys themselves: arty, askance Tennant, asking questions and pondering significances, and hedonistic Lowe (you can take the lad out of Blackpool!), disappearing into the massed bodies of the rave or shopping incognito at the record exchanges (check out the 1989 B-side, ‘One of the crowd’, Chris’s very own credo). It’s why their songs at their finest have such cross-cultural appeal; the Guardianista manifesto of ‘Che Guevara and Debussy to a disco beat’ (‘Left to my own devices’) can coexist quite happily with the football terrace reworking of gay utopianism (their definitive cover of ‘Go West’, which was taken on in earnest by Arsenal supporters). It’s what makes them so English, yes (another epithet interviewers and critics find impossible to avoid), but more than that, it’s what makes them so London, and more specifically Northern and London. In no other city in the world do you get quite so many disparate people rubbing shoulders in the crush; underfunded social housing and potholes on one side of the street, while the opposite side gleams with stucco and swept pavements. This is the world the Boys both celebrate and lament, and often with an emphasis on the relationship between regionalism and metropolitanism. It’s mourned in ‘King’s Cross’ (the station from which Geordies spill out into the city like foaming brown ale from a broken bottle), and especially ‘The Theatre’, which again makes specific reference to  expats from beyond the Watford Gap (‘Boys and girls come to roost / From Northern parts and Scottish towns / Will we catch your eye?’) But then there’s the funny B-side ‘Sexy Northerner’, about a guy who takes the capital by the scruff and recasts it in his own image. London is always up for grabs, and the Boys will be there as the daybreak traffic hits, on through lunch at the office, then dinner, pub, club, and into the demimonde of the dead hours. You always wanted a lover, I only wanted a job. You wait till later, till later tonight…

You see, London is all about almost unlikely juxtapositions, and the Pet Shop Boys pull off some of the unlikeliest. The astonishing ‘Dreaming of the Queen’ (perhaps the most moving song they have ever written) is the most surreal. It’s an elegy for the AIDS dead (‘there are no more lovers left alive’) sung by ‘Lady Di’, whose own marriage is failing; the ‘Queen’ of the title is both the monarch Neil visualizes in his dream, chastising him for being in the nude, and, perhaps, the patron saint of all ‘queens’ everywhere who are traumatized by the epidemic. It’s timely – on release in 1993, all these events were highly topical – and timeless, commenting on the ways in which our subconscious finds its own warped logic to deal with the crushing events of history. And then that heartbreaking line, ‘Yes, it’s true / Look, it’s happened to me and you’ (a rejoinder to an earlier AIDS lament, ‘It couldn’t happen here’). London is a place in which ‘big’ history is made all around us, in which we constantly rub up against grand monuments and memorials; it’s also a place that can find space for the ‘me and you’. At its best, Tennant and Lowe’s songwriting focuses through both of these lenses. Remember ‘Shopping’, seemingly a deadpanned celebration of the personal benefits of the credit boom, but actually a broadside against Thatcher’s privatisations? No eighties band was better at defining the emptiness of consumerist luxury than the Pet Shop Boys, and I’m not just talking about the immortal ‘I’ve got the brains, you’ve got the looks, let’s make lots of money’. Stick on the original version of ‘I want a dog’, and marvel at the boredom of desire; the blank-eyed intonation of ‘oh, you can get lonely’; the killer couplet ‘Don’t want a cat / Scratching its claws all over my habitat’, expressing withering disdain for any mog that ruins Terence Conran’s finest.

In ‘West End Girls’, of course, there are cats and dogs, paws and claws. The greyhounds of Walthamstow (east end boys) and the Persian princesses of Kensington (the girls of the title). Another great juxtaposition, and one that makes London sexy in a constantly surprising way. All sorts of mythologies catch each other’s eyes on the escalators. The Kray brothers lock stares with Charlotte Rampling; there’s a frisson of sexual danger, a possibility of pugilism. But London has to brook its own contradictions in order to survive. It surfs breezily above them, just as the track itself is both shiny and seamy, dark and light. The song is all tensions: African and European (the jazzy trumpet and rich gospel backing vocalist knocking against Tennant’s high white plaint), passive and active, dispassionate and yet full of deep, deep yearning; yet it’s miraculous how these coexist with such effortless panache. These are the frictions of all great British pop, but seldom do they ever sound so exotic and lush. The Pet Shop Boys really did change the game; this is a London both real and imagined, both as good as the real thing and somehow even better. It’s not surprising that it was number one all over the world, including America, and no accident that it even featured prominently in the Olympic shebang last year.

You see, for all the expert satire, it’s easy to forget that the Pet Shop Boys are still actually in love with London, and that its allure will never pall. ‘We’ve got no future, we’ve got no past’, intones Neil in the last verse. In London, you can be someone different every day, ventriloquizing the people around you, learning to walk to their gait; only the present, and your presence matter. Just to be there at all; to be swimming in the tide. East End boys will always chase West End girls, and perhaps vice versa. Northerners and foreigners will always be both repelled and fascinated by the Unreal City. As long as London exists, so will ‘West End Girls’; so will a thousand teenagers from elsewhere dreaming in their bedrooms about ‘running down, underground, to a dive bar in a West End town’. As T.S. Eliot would have it, we shore these fragments against our ruin. Or else, we save ourselves with the power of a synth bass, a crunchy snare and the ecstasy of urban romance.

[reyloeyesofmist]

JJ, you are our only hope

The problem is that the film destroys the magic, it crushed what people has loved over the years and what made this saga special. It was like watching any other blockbuster. This makes me think of art, for instance, a new style doesn’t need to forget everything the previous period offered, it never does when it is good, it just takes what it needs from the past to innovate and offer something new.

For me, what this movie did was to take away all the magic and trascendence of the past jedi and the Resistance heroes’ glory and give us nothing relevant in its place. Even the Dark Side was less, just felt less powerful and important than it used to be. Snoke needed to be important but we never got to know why. Kylo is not a clear bad guy either, they didn’t even let us see Hux as a menacing threat.

This film makes me wonder if all the promise we saw in TFA was for nothing in all respects. Perhaps all this tale about balance is just smoke, like everything else, and with Kylo they are going for what they call an interesting movie villain but nothing more. We expected more, that he was an anti-villain, an anti-hero or at least a bad guy that didn’t feel like a carboard baddie. Now I am not sure, perhaps they were only trying to construct a new era baddie, a millenial Darth Vader, but a baddie at the end of the day and not the deep complicated character TFA seemed to promise.

Not even Reylo was satisfying in this movie, there were beatiful scenes but devoid of meaning and impact. The story matters and it wasn’t told right. It wasn’t clear if their connection was really important or not because it wasn’t explored at all, not even Kylo’s tragedy ( including how Luke tried to kill him) was given the time and weight it deserved. Why? They let Del Toro explain why he betrayed Finn and Rose, for instance, but they couldn’t waste time showing us what was behind Kylo’s obsession with killing the past, his dependance on Snoke when it was so easy to kill him after all, why Luke never gave up on Vader but thought killing a boy instead of helping him before he went too far into darkness was a solution, why this same man had to remind his sister nobody is completely far gone, to the same sister who firmly believed there was still light in her son, etc.

Nothing made sense. It was true that Leia seemed to have chosen a surrogate son in Poe and liked him despite his arrogance and lack of concern for the loss of lives or setting up a mutiny whereas she didn’t have time to guide her own son before it was too late. I had read it before in some theories but it was too painful to see it on screen. It was as if they were telling the viewers to give up on him too. When a mother gives up on her son, he must be beyond redemption. Anyone who is a mother can tell you this and probably every child can too.

Leia is good and noble, if she thinks her son is not worth it, who will? Rey? Why? The movie doesn’t show us why she believes in him when no one else does only to be wrong because in the end he disappoints her. Those beautiful connection scenes added up to nothing in the end because the story was told badly. It could make sense that she loves a bad man despite herself, I could have bought that, even a tragic ending, but with depth, not like this.

I have no idea what I saw, really. A beautifully made but empty movie. It had no soul and no magic. I saw no structure, just mess of plots and characters and none of them grabbed my interest, and I wanted to like it. I couldn’t. They didn’t destroy only the original trilogy magic, but also what TFA promised. All the characters and themes became irrelevant, the old ones and the new. For instance, Poe was dashing and charismatic and Finn was relatable, funny and endearing in TFA and they feel just less in TLJ, they disappoint and so do their stories.

Why adding new characters if you can’t make any of the ones you have interesting? Is this Rian’s way to show the audience that we should forget the past and its heroes and baddies because nobody is essential? Are we supposed to forget about the caracters we grew to love, incuding Rey and Finn and root for a different one any time? Do we have too root for the nobodys, meaning the ones the writers did very little to let us know?

This doesn’t work, I was ready to root for the new characters and let go of the old ones but the only character that was treated somewhat right was Luke’s. Now I have to wonder whose story we are meant to watch in the next movie. Are we meant to root for Rey or for any random broom boy?

If I hadn’t seen the posters I wouldn’t know who the protagonists were meant to be. I have no idea why Rian said Rey and Kylo are “the two halves of our protagonists”. That’s not what I saw on screen. I saw Luke’s story and secondly Rey’s but not Kylo’s. JJ and also Mark said this trilogy wasn’t about Luke, Han and Leia but in Rian’s movie only Luke shone.

Well, at this point I have to say JJ is my only hope, but I am very disappointed. Only my love of SW that was born so many years ago and how JJ brought back the magic in TFA stops me from giving up on ST like everyone gave up on Kylo. TFA was not perfect but it was damn good. I don’t agree it was a rehearsal of the OT, it did what creators have to do, not unrooting the old magic but letting a new tree with its new branches and green leaves grow up from it.

[clericstozier-blog]

dirty shoes | oneshot

warnings: homophobia

pairing(s): stanley uris/billiam denbrough

words: 1,547

Living in Derry meant living where everyone is a close-minded asshole. It was a place where racism, sexism, transphobia, and homophobia had made homes in the minds of most.

Including the Uris’.

Most of the town heard rumors about Richie kissing boys, or Eddie being gay— both were true, but Stan didn’t care. As long as they were both happy, who the hell was he to judge?

His parents, on the other hand, were more than happy to share their outdated opinions.

“Stanley, honey!” his mother called. Stan dropped the toothbrush he’d been cleaning his shoes with and made his way down the stairs.

He reached the bottom and there his parents sat. Hands folded on the dark mahogany table, solemn looks on their faces

Everything seemed to be normal.

“What’s going on?” He asked warily. They knew his routine, it was 4:14 pm, he wasn’t done cleaning his shoes. His mother turned her head and sighed.

“Sweetheart, come. We need to talk.” She stood up and pulled out the chair he usually sat in. He fidgeted with his fingers. “Mom, if you want dinner to be done by five thirty you need to start cooking now.” He looked down. “I know, honey. Come, sit.” She patted the seat before returning to her own.

Reluctantly, Stan took a seat between both his parents and anxiously tapped his fingers on the table.

“Stanley” His father’s voice was threatening. Stan pulled his hand off the table and into his lap before gripping his hands together. It wasn’t his fault. If it was so important the should’ve spat it out already. All the waiting and sugarcoating made him more anxious than he needed to be.

“Alright, well— your father and I were talking and…” She looked down uncomfortably. Stan felt his chest squeeze up, slowly making it harder for him to breathe.

oh, for the love of God.

“We don’t think you should be friends with Eddie and Richie anymore.” His father blurted. Stan paused and blinked for a second. Did I hear him right? Richie, the guy I’ve been friends with since before I can remember, and Eddie, the nicest, most responsible person out of all of the losers.

“W-What?” He swallowed thickly as his chest started to rise and fall more erratically.

“Honey, those boys are a bad influence on you—“ Stan looked at his mother incredulously before she could finish. Was she serious? Stan understood how Richie could come off as a bit bold, but in no way, shape, or form was he rubbing off on him. He was the mature one, for God’s sakes!

And how the hell did they come to the conclusion that Eddie was a bad influence.

“What are you talking about?” Stan asked, dumbfounded. “How have they influenced me?” Stan between the both of them. His father took off his glasses and sighed. “They’re just no good for you anymore, Stanley.” He went to rest his hand on Stan’s shoulder, but his son flinched away. Donald stopped and cleared his throat.

Stan knew his hands were shaking, but he couldn’t tell if that was because of the anxiety, his OCD, or the fact that he was so angry.

“They’re not gay.“ Stan told them. Their heads snapped up and Stan’s breath caught in his throat. “I know what rumors go around,” He muttered. “None of them are true.” With that he finished, figuring there was nothing more for him to say– and he didn’t feel bad for lying. Richie and Eddie were two of his best friends. There was no way he was going to let his parents do this.

“How did the rumors start getting—“

“Greta Bowie.” Stan spoke quickly. It wasn’t a lie, she was the one who started the “rumor” about Eddie, and her word spreads like wildfire.

Well, any word spreads like wildfire, really.

His parents exchanged looks, he knew they were having one of their eye conversations again. He never understood that. Just talk out loud, he would think. It’s not like I can object to what you’re saying— oh, wait.

“I need to finish cleaning my shoes.” Stan whispered. “Ok, Stan. Ok.” His mother let out a breath. He rose both eyebrows as he looked at her. “You can still hang out with them” His mother told him. He only nodded before making his way back up to his room, but  he stopped when he reached the stairs.

“Is there something wrong?” Andrea asked worriedly. Stan pursed his lips and gripped his hands even harder. “Don’t forget dinner. Five thirty.” He spoke quietly before sprinting up to his room.

Dinner was on the table by five thirty, and in Stan’s stomach by five forty. His shoes were cleaned beforehand, something he was ecstatic about.

      And now he was riding his bike through Derry’s woods to meet up with his friends. He was happy he convinced his parents to let him keep Richie and Eddie as friends.

“Stan!” Richie exclaimed happily as the taller boy trekked towards them. Richie stood there, waving dramatically, earning him an eyeroll from Eddie and a small chuckle from Bill.

      “You’re late, Stanley.” Richie joked. Stan knew he was kidding, but the thought made his heart clammer.

“Nope, for some reason the three of you are early.” Stan shrugged. Stan knew his schedule, he stuck to it like white on rice, like glue on everything. He was never late.

“Where is everyone?” Stan weirdly. Bill started to go on about how Beverly started her new job that day, and how Ben was in doing his summer reading, and how Mike wanted to hang out with his girlfriend, Diana.

Stan nodded. “Valid reasons.” He stated curtly before walking towards the barrens.

        “Hey, S-Stan?” Bill jogged to catch up to his friend. Eddie and Richie were a few feet behind the pair, having their own conversation.

“Yes, William?” Stan rose both eyebrows in a joking manner. Bill chuckled again, Stan liked the sound of Bill laughing– it made his heart warm.

“Are y-y-you doing o-ok?” He asked curiously. Stan scrunched his eyebrows together, but nodded. “I’m doing a-ok, Billy.” Stan breathed contently.

     “O-Ok, th-that’s great. I’m glad.” Bill did the same. The two continued to walk in silence, and it was peaceful. They looked around at the scenery that Stan doubted any of them noticed before.

“Stan,” Bill messed with his fingers. “Yes, Bill?” The other boy looked at his friend.

“Last one to the Barrens has to run home naked!” Richie ran in between the two of them with Eddie following close behind him.

Stan kept his eyes on Bill who just shook his head. “He’s sixteen, you’d think he’d grow up just a little bit.” He gestured with his thumb and index finger before taking off.

“What the hell, Denbrough!” Stan gasped. He wasn’t too worried, his legs were almost as long as Richie’s and he’d been doing track for two years now. Stan had no doubt in his mind that he wouldn’t at least be second.  

       He kind of felt bad for Bill, it wasn’t slow, but he wasn’t particularly fast either. Guess he’s running home naked.

Stan almost doubled over laughing right then and there. That would’ve been a sight. Bill Denbrough, the poster boy for all things good and whole, streaking through the streets of Derry.

“Way to go, Stanny Boy.” Richie rose his hand for a high-five, which Stan gladly gave him. Eddie came right after him, letting out heavy breaths, and then finally Bill.

“You g-guys a-are assholes.” Bill heaved as the other three grinned. “Stan, you wanna hold Billy’s clothes while he runs.” Richie rose his eyebrows.

“C-Come on, Richie.” Bill’s face fell as he slumped his shoulders. Stan’s grin faltered and he looked down. He knew he was gonna cave, and he knew Richie was going to give him shit for it.

“Rules are rules, Billy.” Richie shrugged as Eddie held onto his shoulder for balance. Stan shook his head.

“Rich, cut it out. Come on.” Stan started, it always happened like this. Some kind of race or competition where Bill would lose somehow and Stan would be the one to get Richie to call it off.

“Stanley Uris, you always ruin my fun.” Richie crossed his arms over his chest. Stan couldn’t tell whether or not he was faking the pout he wore.

“St-Stanley Uris, you are m-m-my hero.” Bill joked with a wide smile. Stan returned the small as a warmth spread around his body, similar to how he felt when Bill laughed.

As he followed behind Bill he swore he heard Richie mutter something about him being whipped, but that didn’t make sense. Who was he whipped for? Stan shook his head and let out a sigh as he checked his watch.

6:03 pm. Forty-two minutes until I have to go.

“Stan, k-keep up.” Bill teased and Stan scrunched his eyebrows together. “I’m sorry, but who just lost that race?” Stan sniped quickly, earning him a playful shove from the other boy. Stan laughed before wondering if Bill felt the same way he did when he laughed.

Probably not.

a/n i should be writing for in denial and not really unrequited, but here we are. uhhh enjoy this while i get my shit together i guess. 

no, but seriously, they’ll both be up if not this week then next, i just have a shit ton of exams and zero inspiration so. 

read not really unrequited here

and in denial here

masterlist

request

[shadowsong26x]

TLJ Reaction Post!

Putting everything behind a cut just in case, to avoid spoilers. Also, any TLJ-related posts I either write or reblog will be tagged as listed here.

Feel free to reply/reblog/ask/whatever if you want to discuss!

So, that was an experience.

First, quick reaction--while I was watching it, it was overall engaging/good. I had some issues even in the moment, but most of what I’m going to write up here was of the fridge logic variety?

Things I liked:

- Leia getting a STRAIGHT-UP ACTUAL JEDI MOMENT. Yes, I am talking about her flying through space like Mary Poppins and yes it was ridiculous but again it was a Jedi Moment sooooooooo there it is.

- All of the combat scenes/lightsaber duels in particular were really well put together. The throne room duel (which I’ll talk about that whole scene in some detail later), Finn vs. Phasma, Astral Projection Luke vs Kylo Ren (side note: I had seen a poster or clip or something before this, and I was Very Annoyed that Luke’s lightsaber was blue pretty much for the same reason I get irrationally irritated when Padme is tagged/drawn in the Gothic Peacock dress and the fact that elbows don’t grow back oh my god--minor continuity details that make a difference but don’t really matter in the long run; but the fact that Luke chose to project himself with the Heirloom Lightsaber(tm) that blew up ten minutes ago made that make sense and was delightful in hindsight) the space combat--the red dust on Crait, though, so cool the way it did visual things.

- Pretty much everything to do with Finn and Rose’s plotline (except I was sad that there was no Lando cameo at Canto Bight)

- Most of the stuff with Amilyn I liked a lot too. Especially her flipping badass Last Stand. (I also liked the fact that the bulk of high command was women, and they made a point of showing off all the lady piliots)

- Luke and Leia’s reunion moment made me bawl in a very good way. (Side note: I’m pretty sure she knew all along he was Astral Projection Luke. In part because how else could he have gotten there, in part because, as my friend who I went to see it with pointed out, he projected himself exactly as he would have been the last time she saw him. Also the much shorter and darker hair which I feel is very impractical to manage in an X-wing cockpit)

- That little kid on Canto Bight. Oh, that little kid on Canto Bight, who reminded me so much of TPM!Anakin I can’t even. (There’s a whole potential Thing here, that my friend pointed out to me, re: Light/Dark/Balance a la Daughter/Son/Father from Mortis where we might be going for Kylo as Dark, Rey as Balance, Tiny as Light? I’m not sure if I actually want the story to go there or not but it’s at least interesting as a vague concept!)

- I love Poe. Just...Poe was delightful in this film, as he figures out exactly how Being In Command works, his relationship with Leia, his back-and-forth with Amilyn...

- I liked that the bridge/whatever between Rey and Kylo was clearly set up to parallel Luke and Leia, rather than anything romantic--to the point where Luke and Leia had a Twin Moment that then immediately cut to one of the shared dreams and that can’t have been an accident.

- There was a lot of really great dialogue in this film. Just in general. “Do you think you got him.” “I don’t think they like me very much.”/”I can’t imagine why.” “What are you looking at me for? Follow him!” Leia and Amilyn’s goodbye (which, side note--I read the Leia novel, and I definitely thought she and Amilyn had more chemistry than she and Kier did, also there’s a...something percolating in the back of my brain about Kier and Lando and the similar choices they made when their people were in danger and they felt their backs were against the wall, and what that might mean in terms of added context for Leia’s choices/actions in ESB, but that is a topic for a different post)

- While this was not the Force Ghost(s) I was looking for, I enjoyed Yoda’s appearance a whole heck of a lot.

- Rey and Poe finally actually met! And it was a very nice meeting!

- The fact that, once again, the last intelligible dialogue in the film went to Leia (because Tiny was speaking in another language)

Things I am neutral about but I feel bear mentioning:

- The reveal(?) about Rey’s parentage--I’m not sure whether or not Kylo Ren was lying, but I’m honestly okay with it either way. I mean, I’ve been on team Rey Kenobi, so to speak, from the beginning [partly because I think it makes a more interesting narrative than Rey Skywalker; partly because Obi-Wan’s line of descent, if he has one (and, whether it comes from Korkie and Satine or not, I think it could be credibly written that he does)...it makes much more sense that it would be lost the way Rey’s backstory establishes than either of Luke or Leia’s children being lost. And the potential alternatives (i.e., Shmi having had a child before Anakin and they were sold separately or something, or Anakin’s DNA being used to sire another child because Reasons, would require a lot more setup than we’ve got); also I kind of like the idea of Finn Skywalker though that ship has probably sailed]. Where was I...anyway, while I prefer that story, I don’t actually dislike any of the potential theories (except the reincarnation one). And Rey Nobody (I think is what it was called?) has its own appeal, definitely. So...I guess my reaction to that is a nonreaction? Especially since I can’t make up my mind whether or not it’s true...

- I wasn’t super invested in any shipping in this trilogy, but honestly as far as I’m concerned we now have a third possible endgame pairing for Finn and I like all three. (I’d rather not discuss this particular point in overmuch detail, because as I said I’m not super invested in any ST ships and I know a lot of people are and I’d rather not get argued at on the subject).

- I have no idea how I feel about the Heirloom Lightsaber(tm) being destroyed? But the crystal seemed to be intact sooooooo we’ll see.

- Snoke’s ridiculous golden bathrobe???????

Things I liked less:

- I’m not thrilled with how Luke was written. Like...I can make it make sense. I can draw the roadmap in my brain of how we got from the Luke I know and love to the Luke we saw in this movie (including in the flashback) but it takes a lot of backhacking, so to speak. Honestly, if I ever get this far in a canon-aligned fic timeline, I would definitely go in a different direction (frex, if Masks ever comes back off hiatus and I get to Martyrs, which is the third part of that AU and is set in this timeframe, it would no longer be an In Spite Of A Nail AU from here).

(This sort of ties into...look, if I was going to assign a cardinal narrative sin to each of the trilogies (looking only at how the story is structured here), the PT has pacing issues, the OT was made up as it went along and it shows in several points; but the ST? The ST relies way too much on It’s All There In The Manual. I’ve read some of the Manual, but not all of it, because I mostly hang out in the PT corner of the fandom, but it was an issue in TFA and it was an issue again in TLJ. Amilyn and Leia, I think, suffered from this the most, but Luke’s headspace probably did, too.)

- I’m not super thrilled with the fact that we got introduced to a lot of interesting new characters, and almost all of them just...died. And I kept looking for familiar faces from TFA in the background of the Resistance and...yeah, they weren’t there.

- This is...this is maybe not going to come off as super articulate when I try to explain myself, but it actually bothers me a lot. And that’s that...there’s...there’s no...

Look. To me, above all things, Star Wars is about Redemption. It is about finding the spark of light in the darkness, and fanning it into a flame. And I say this even as someone who primarily hangs out in the PT part of fandom, which is in some ways structured as the opposite (i.e., find the speck of darkness in the light and feed it until it consumes all). Because it’s still there at the end. We still have that spark--in the twins, and in their guardians--and we are nurturing it until it is ready to burst into a proper flame and it also set up Anakin’s motivations in a way that led to/added to the credibility/impact of the eventual redemption arc. (Like I said, I’m not sure I can articulate this well, but it’s a Thing, okay?) And, yes, I get that the ST is coming at this find-the-light-in-the-dark theme from a different angle which is fine, I guess, I just...I just...

There is no antagonist (who has been at all developed) who is redeemable at this point.

Like--I didn’t really care about Kylo Ren as Kylo Ren. I cared about his (potential and now thwarted) redemption arc because see above about how that’s what Star Wars is to me. And where we left off at the end of TFA, he could still credibly be redeemed. And now, even without all the explicit ROTJ parallels (up to and including straight-up quoted dialogue), that door is closed. A redemption arc for him from here would not be credible.

And no one else in the First Order is developed enough for it, except maybe Hux, who also has credibility issues (to draw a comparison, that would be like trying to write a redemption arc for Tarkin, aka essentially impossible without an AU breakpoint when he was like twelve or younger at which point it’s not a redemption arc it’s a completely different story.) Phasma (assuming she isn’t actually dead, which I think she’s not but ehhh she might be) isn’t developed enough. No one else in the First Order who’s still alive has an on-screen not-All-There-In-The-Manual name, so it wouldn’t have the necessary emotional/narrative payoff.

And that’s...that’s...I don’t like it. I really don’t like it. I mean...it actually weirdly bothers me less than I thought it would, when I was trying to talk about this a year or so ago? I have no idea why, because like I thought that would be something that would make me completely break away at least from the ST era/corner of the fandom. And yet it’s not. But it’s still...Star Wars has always sold itself as straight up Good Vs Evil, but has had that...coming home. Or something? Like I said, not sure I’m too articulate about it. But I don’t like that this happened the way it did.

And also, just...like, think about what it would have been if they had just gone ahead and played the ROTJ aspects straight. If Ben Solo had come home, the way Anakin Skywalker did--without dying. We would get the story we never got with Vaderkin, of clawing his way back and atoning and making amends. We barely even got it with Ventress (side note: there’s a Thing in the back of my head that I’m not sure I can get out in any articulate way about the parallels between Anakin and Ventress because man.) (Also I think there might be a plot like this in Rebels, but I haven’t seen it yet so IDK for sure.)

Sigh. I don’t know. I think we’re going to get an interesting story about the way things did go, which may be part of why I’m less upset than I thought I would be. But I am upset.

(Side note: I do think that Snoke’s death was really well-put-together/well-played. I genuinely didn’t see it coming until the Heirloom Lightsaber started turning. Like...I pretty much figured that it wasn’t going to go how either Rey or Kylo saw it, because (even before Snoke said he made the bridge between them) I pretty much figured they’d both seen what they wanted to see/their ideal ending for the confrontation, so I knew it would be some kind of third option, but I did not expect the one we got and the way it was presented/approached was extremely effective; I just have serious, serious issues with where it went from there).

- I wish there had been more Leia. And Maz. And Phasma.

- I wish it had done more to expand on/develop the relationships/answer the questions/etc. established by TFA. In some ways, it feels more like “this is a series of events that happened in the wake of that,” rather than a continuation? This was mostly a problem with Poe’s storyline--Rey’s did okay at that, though if the backstory reveal was true it was a little disappointingly presented and if it’s not it didn’t resolve enough; and Finn’s did reasonably well. (Also, there were supposed to be Knights of Ren???? Were these the students that Kylo Ren left with after burning Luke’s Temple? What happened to them? Were those the people he and Rey killed in the throne room?????)

- On a much pettier note--what the fuck even was up with the timeline???? HOW SHORT ARE THE DAYS ON AHCH-TO? WHAT ABOUT FREAKING TRAVEL TIME--FTL TRAVEL IN THIS UNIVERSE IS NOT INSTANTANEOUS AND THAT IS EXPLICITLY REFERENCED IN THIS VERY FILM. Congratulations, Star Wars, you now have a film with a timeline that makes even less sense than ESB. [ROTS doesn’t, either, although that one’s more a question of ‘exactly how long is it between the Invisible Hand and Utapau because I don’t buy the ‘less than two weeks’ from the novel, but beyond that it could be anywhere from like a month to like three or four...but that makes sense, it’s just unclear.)

And, because I like to end on a positive note--there’s a lot I do genuinely enjoy/like/even love about this movie. Is it my favorite? Probably not; I don’t know exactly where I’d rank it, but probably in the Bottom Tier (I have sort of three tiers in terms of ‘Which Of These Puppies Licking My Face Am I Most Likely To Take Home If I Can Only Have One’ and they fluctuate a fair amount other than ESB, AOTC, and ROTS are consistently in the top tier). But there’s enough about it that I liked that I’m going to see it again, and while the things I disliked were for the most part serious issues, they weren’t enough to make me want to avoid the film itself. I’m hoping the next movie answers some more things, I’m hoping Phasma and Baby Canto Bight Jedi come back, I’m looking forward to Force Ghost Luke (and maybe the others fingers crossed).

[devilishdewitt]

Ladies of Burlesque  Halloween Edition

Did Moscow’s most elegant burlesque show sizzle or sparkle in its first Halloween edition?

Follow me, and I shall tell you…

Now and forever, 

~The Eternal Disclaimer~

It is hereby declared that this little nook of the world wide web shall be devoted to the praise & critique of the art of burlesque, specifically in Russia.

Let it also be known that I am first and foremost a benevolent force, and every single criticism is documented solely for the purpose of evolution, growth and inspiration, darling.

Never forget - it is fantastic that the burlesque scene in Russia has grown so much in the last few years. Brava, ladies! As a fact and a statement, it is absolutely fabulous.

However, I volunteer to wear the heavy crown of expertise, having seen many a show in many a place, and having a keen eye for detail and a heart hungry for that wow factor. I always come with an open heart, am quite easily entertained, and know how hard the craft is - I can overlook many a fault when there’s stage presence, charisma and that fire of passion. Oh, and self-irony.

All is sickly without self-irony.

Now, onwards! To fabulousness!

Falling into the familiar arms of Cafe Michel, Ladies of Burlesque is back with a Halloween twist - still sans Pavlova, regrettably.

Before we go any further, dearest reader, allow me to ask you a question:

What is Halloween?

That’s a thought that every Halloween event organiser should start with when planning such an experience. Is it a mystical Samhain ritual? A fun-filled costume party? A celebration of all things spooky? 

Which route are you taking - the solemn occult? Silliness & ease? Pop culture parody? Classic horror? Proper nightmare?

As evident from the non-existent amalgamating style, this conversation never happened at the production meeting. Or if it did, it simply didn’t show.

Having already reviewed Michel, I saw nothing new. No improvements - but no worsening, either. What’s worse than worsening, though, is the lack of atmosphere. It was not created with decor, music or anything else.

The crowd was not really dressed for the occasion - perhaps because the occasion was never properly described and explained. The rules of the game were not set.

Pity. Could’ve been tremendous. The line-up is quite a thrill, darling.

This time we had two exciting guests from Saint Petersburg!

Thank you, Haunted Cathouse, for sending us something truly thrilling!

Natali Pashkof, the self-proclaimed enfant terrible of Russian Burlesque fully lived up to the title. Her Saw number was a dream - style-wise, impeccable. This is what I call a Halloween act! Flawless costume. The licking of the saw - rousingly revolting. The Widow act wasn’t as stunning as Saw, but still of decent quality. Satisfying eye contact with the audience. I wish we could’ve seen her “The Ring” act as well. 

And the mystifying Vurtica! Living our Snow White Evil Queen fantasy, darling! Perhaps the most layered and strategic costume of the night. And the blood-soaked heart-shaped sponge is sheer, pure genius. The Earthy Witch was equally tempting - fantastic audience participation, magnificent costume, so well thought through. Dare I say, a sexy cauldron?…Very smart juxtaposition of the heaviness of the music and the air of the movements. I’ll be keeping an eye on this one!

Shall we move on to our familiar Moscow/Novosibirsk (ruby red) stars?

The night opened with Marie Weinberg, and I must say, improvement is evident. She is gaining the confidence that ignites her charm. And I can forgive the (again) ill-fitting dress and meowing of the opening act - because her second entrance was a dream. Transforming from a dark vampire into an angelic temptress, she hid behind a boa of intriguing proportions - to reveal stunning diamanté details that truly showed off her hypnotising tattoos. And her hairdo is impeccable. 

Still, can’t say that the singing is of a level that I find entertaining or enjoyable, but perhaps in time all will come.

Allow me to summon my witchy powers and properly curse the DJ. He did not fail to disappoint with lost cues, lack of volume awareness and overall buffoonery. Whoever hired him should rethink their choices. Or, if it was a last-minute arrangement, it goes without saying that it should never be so. If the organisers do not understand how an idiotically wrong cue can mess up the mood and the act, why are they in a position of power?

A very similar situation happened at their shows several times before.

Ladies! Invest in a smart, sensitive, intuitive - or at least, attentive - sound gentleman. It’ll change your lives.

So a few days ago, we, the public, were offered an explanation of the difference between Bar Burlesque and the big dinner shows (God bless social media). One of the points was that it’s a taster session - to see if you might enjoy the big show.

So in theory, people who came to see the latest Bar Burlesque might’ve been in the audience for this show. That means that they saw Tamasinushka’s poster-gracing “Queen of the Forest” (we all know it’s Little Red Riding Hood, but alright) twice.

We also saw The Moon…that was on the same stage last time.

I’m afraid to say the energy was the same - lacking. Sometimes the moves were so painfully slow, you couldn’t help but wonder if it’s a tactic to make the acts longer and attempt to hide the missing intricacy of the costumes. Tamasinushka is a graceful, mesmerising eyeful, and the pearl costume was precious - but still, somewhat lacklustre in comparison to some of the other acts. Perhaps preparations for the Russian Burlesque Festival are getting the best of her.

What do you expect me to say about Katerina Sahara? Consistently flawless. She brought her winged friends with her - the exotic twerking emerald bird and the dazzling dragon. Both were impeccable. What else is there to say? True professionalism. I was especially thrilled by all the bird of paradise improvising - the lady who’s bosom was caressed seemed to be quite exhilarated by the experience. The Sugar Factory/ Twerk Bakery star kept the crowd on their toes as they craved every next move.

One of her main talents is measure. Balance. The strategy of her undressing is always faultlessly thought through.

Blanche de Moscu, you stunner. Bringing the Fire Priestess and The Admiral, she shined like she tends to do - with glorious abandon. The Fire costume got a gentle upgrade, and The Admiral stunned and entertained. To my taste, it is one of the best burlesque acts in Russia. A flawless mix of sexuality and sensuality, masculine and feminine, humour and drop-dead army seriousness. And the costume, my god, the costume!…Nostalgic in the best possible way. Nostalgic in the most modern way. She hypnotised and entertained, seduced and enthralled. A wonder of a performer!

And that glitter trick - so small, yet so powerful.

Ellisha Fox brought the Poodle act that we saw at the Real Variety Show a few months back. Even though I understand and admire the sentiment behind the act, I stand my ground - the music doesn’t fit the mood of the piece at all, and it’s not quite theatre, not quite burlesque, and remains one of most undercooked acts of our superstar.

However, Ellisha’s undercooked is still a knockout. What a gem.

The Phoenix was an exact repetition of what we saw at the last LoB show. Still more focused on the movements than anything else.

Side note - wondering why Ellisha’s appearance at Alice Shpiller’s Halloween extravaganza was so abruptly cancelled. I hope it had nothing to do with inner-burly webs and whispers, for that just ruins the party for everyone, doesn’t it, darling? Boylesque should be seen and celebrated as much as possible, and putting a seal on Ellisha as if he’s a branded asset will do no good - not for the culture in general nor the reputation of the dominating company.

Helen the Stage Bunny - yes, bunny this time! -  looked absolutely gorgeous. That girl is a treasure - she’s doing a job that requires maximum attention and concentration with elegance, ease and poise, despite being the bait for every single tasteless hostess joke.

Vanilla Absolut - oh how I love a drag queen! The name is stunning, and so is the gal. She blessed us with a sensational atheist/satanist lipsync to “Personal Jesus” by Marilyn Manson (of course). Strutting her stuff in shockingly high heels, she expertly mingled with the crowd, jumped, bended in all directions and made the space her own.

The same lucky lady who got touched by Sahara got to lick the Bible! Some girls have all the luck…

Tanya Konfetki. Must I comment?

For the sake of all I believe in, yes.

She looked beautiful. So refreshing to see her well-dressed, and the head-piece was beguiling.

Still, there was no flow to her hosting.

The ending was abrupt, the humour lacked elegance, and overall it was quite…dull. At times she seemed lost before the crowd, and endless self-comparisons to Pavlova didn’t do anything for her. It’s easy to see how much she wants to be the hostess (which is probably the domineering reason why she’s on that stage), but the skills, the charm and the ease are just not there. Perhaps it will come in time. Perhaps not. 

The virtual appearance of Anja Pavlova was an unexpected treat.

VERDICT

Still the most poised burlesque show in Moscow (and most likely in Russia), but then again, there’s hardly any competition.

Evolution is a process that occurs naturally, and I hope that the Ladies will steer in a glorious direction. They have everything for it.

Is St Petersburg the Russian capital of NeoBurlesque? 

Moscow is yet to learn how to do justice to the harrowing beauty of Halloween.

~~~

The next Bar Burlesque is on the 15th of November - nearly sold-out. Next big dinner show is December 7-8th.

Care for a ticket, darling?

[penumbra-rp]

Ash, you will be playing the role of Lucius Malfoy!

But accountability for his actions slips off his shoulders like a Ralph Lauren blazer as his car crashes are met with shining new vehicles wrapped up in a bow, his poor grades met with hush money slid in unmarked white envelopes to his private schools, the promise of a new advanced wing to their library on his father’s tongue.

Admin Becky: Lucius Malfoy is the Made In Chelsea cast member of my dreams. His life is so unhindered by expense or impossibility that he could chase any number of fanciful ambitions, and his responsibilities are picked and chosen from like a box of imported Swiss chocolates. And despite the fact that he’s the creme de la creme of pretentious rich posh boys everywhere, the perfect modern, magicless interpretation for a man who brought his pet peacocks to a sports tournament, you’ve made it impossible not to adore him. He balances his life so well that he’s become a list of contradictions: good and bad; entitled and generous; airheaded and strategic. For every dark deed he carries out on Riddle’s behalf, he seems to ensure his golden side shines that little bit brighter.

01. Out of Character

NAME: Ash

AGE: 25

YOUR BIRTHDAY: January 24th

PRONOUNS: She/Her

TIMEZONE: EST

02. In Character

CHARACTER: Lucius Abraxas Malfoy

CHARACTER’S PRONOUNS: He/Him

FACECLAIM: Henry Golding

CHARACTER’S BIRTHDAY: May 25th

PERSONALITY

(+) DYNAMIC – Unlike many of his Sacred 28 companions, with a cool and aloof disposition, prone to looking down their noses at those considered lesser and offer cold shoulders to those they don’t wish to associate with – Lucius Malfoy possesses an easygoing spirit, a genuinely good-natured aura. His is an infectious energy. He’s a social creature, gregarious and charming, loquacious and surprisingly warm, the kind to shine when placed at the center of attention and flourishing within settings that allow him to be social and get to know others. There’s never a dull moment when Lucius is around, bringing a distinct liveliness to any room he steps into. He’s a people-person, plain and simple, and it’s quite difficult for others to not like the Malfoy heir.

(+) PERCEPTIVE – While there are many things Lucius doesn’t understand – jokes whose punchlines fly over his head, common sense that slips from his grasp – he is a person who pays attention to the details of the things he deems important, the people he deems important to him. He is attentive and observant, and can be rather thoughtful if motivated; keen to pick a flower for his mother from their lily gardens if he notes she and Abraxas have had a row, or pop a bottle of wine when a friend’s shoulder’s seemed too heavy with the weights of life’s stressors. While he might not be able to read a room, he can read people, noticing things that others do not.

(+) COMPASSIONATE – A massively overlooked trait, the Malfoy heir is actually a compassionate man. It shows in the charities he chooses to support, where he siphons his wealth. While many think he signs checks for the photo-ops and smiles while volunteering because it ‘looks good,’ there is genuineness in his desire to help others around him ( while also being recognized for doing it ). He likes working with the youth, coaching and mentoring a boy’s sailing team on weekends. He enjoys animals and detests cruelty towards them ( even if they’re dirty). He likes running clothing drives, setting up men and women for success with the business attire that’s collected. Deep down, his heart is a well-intentioned one – but he often times gets caught up in his need to please others and meet expectations, that he’ll do what’s necessary for the collective image of himself, his family, and their associates.

(-) FRIVOLOUS – Since he was young, Lucius has never taken much of life too seriously, attempting a more whimsical approach to all that he does and says. While this can be seen as a very positive characteristic, given his ability to brush off mishaps and maintain his air of confidence and optimism, it is also very frustrating to those who have the pleasure of interacting with him. He’s oftentimes careless and immensely forgetful – speaking one moment only for the thought to fly out of his head the next. Tuning out of conversations that he doesn’t find interesting as he daydreams. Selectively listening when given instructions only to ask what they were minutes later. His frivolity makes him lack a sense of urgency with tasks, and is oftentimes impractical with his demands as they’re over-imaginative or unrealistic to carry out.

(-) SHALLOW – Only certain types of people are allowed in Lucius Malfoy’s circle. While considerably friendly, one to make more friends than enemies, the Malfoy heir tends to take the people he meets at face value, assessing them according to different criteria, and making swift judgements based on what he finds before allowing himself to get to know them. How one looks, how they dress, how they carry themselves, how much wealth they appear to have. He notices scuffed shoes and hair with split ends, he can tell whether a garment is cotton or mohair, department store or custom-made. And while it’s wrong of him to do it, he is prone to gossipping about such things.

(-) LAZY – Since he was young, Lucius has never been held accountable for is actions, this has left him without a true sense of responsibility and lacking in the ambition and drive necessary to propel most people forward to achieve. Because he’s never been made to lift fingers for things to be done, he’s grown too complacent, keen to wave his hand and summon an assistant for a cup of coffee, or sigh loudly enough times to get someone else to bring the remote closer to him, excuses seated readily on his tongue as to why he simply cannot be asked to do things. He’s also prone to procrastinate, leaving things for a later Lucius to handle. “I’ll do it later,” he drawls, floating on his back in the manor’s pool, shades over his eyes and a serene smile on his lips.

BRIEF BULLET POINT BIO:

Cold. It’s the word one would use to describe the life of the Malfoys. It’s decades of history beneath high ceilings and drafty corridors. It’s silence and decadence in one. To the outside world, picture perfect is what they all appear to be as they pose for photos before their grand Wiltshire manor for the Daily Prophet. An air of haughtiness surrounds them as they wear identical proud smiles, luxurious fabrics draping from their bodies and billowing in the breeze. Because they are Malfoys, and from the day he was born, Lucius is taught that this simply meant they were better than others, and as the silver spoon sat snugly in his mouth, he couldn’t say he disagreed. 

But his parents were better suited an acting profession as opposed to the socialites they were. ( One could argue they are the same thing. ) They are not the fairytale everyone sees, they are not the fair princess and her shining knight who found love. Happily ever after doesn’t end a business transaction – because that’s what their union was, a merger of families, a merger of wealth, mutually beneficial for all parties involved. For when those doors closed, it was to opposite sides of the manor that the pair would retreat, only resurfacing for dinner parties and photo-ops. And Lucius was always caught somewhere in the middle. 

In the early years, warmth could be likened to an eclipse – rare and fleeting. And it’s source? Lavinia Malfoy (nee Sun Lin), his mother. She was, and still is, his everything, as he was hers. Lucius’ birth was the one thing she came to find happiness in. While grateful, while well taken care of for the rest of her life, while more than aware of the immense honor of being proposed to by Abraxas Malfoy placed on her family, Lavinia never wished to marry him, but that choice was not hers to make. She wished to marry for love. But in their society, love was as foreign of a concept as being poor was – but it never stopped her from pouring love into Lucius, hoping that he would find the one thing that slipped from her grasp. Her instinct is to care, to nurture her only darling boy. So when he cries – she runs, every bit as unhurried and graceful as her steps can be. When he gets hurt – she consoles him, tender brushes of her hand through his raven-dark hair. When he needs her – she is always there, to be needed. And when Abraxas sternly orders to ‘leave him,’ let him stand on his own, let him stretch his own spine and steel it into something strong and iron-like – she doesn’t listen.

Entitled would be a kind word given to describe the Malfoy heir. A poster child of modern aristocracy, born of gentry and old money. As a member of the Sacred 28, he relished in having the world at his fingertips. Just a whisper of his name could get him anything of his choosing while his money could have gotten the rest. He never had to know what it was like to want for anything. But Lucius always wanted something. The grander party for his birthday to outshine those of his peers, a faster Maserati to beat Amycus Carrow’s in a race, a pristine set of Wilson tennis rackets to impress the other Sacred’s at the country club. But accountability for his actions slips off his shoulders like a Ralph Lauren blazer as his car crashes are met with shining new vehicles wrapped up in a bow, his poor grades met with hush money slid in unmarked white envelopes to his private schools, the promise of a new advanced wing to their library on his father’s tongue. 

It has been said the Malfoy boy has a head full of air – keen to talk about himself and his lavish weekend plans over anything of actual importance. And perhaps that was true, considering he was accepted to Hogwarts University not for his academic achievements or intellectual prowess; he got in because his father attended Hogwarts and his father before that, so a continuance of legacy was imperative, an acceptance letter issued after a phone call and a few pulled strings. He studies Business – if only because Triple M will soon be his own, the crowning jewel of his inheritance, and at least knowing how to manage and market and run a company is something his parents believed he should know for the future. ( But business required too much math, his Accounting course scaring him for life as he failed miserably. Private tutors became a large investment after that. ) 

But still his coursework takes a backseat to his social life. Abraxas Malfoy taught his son the key to success from young – one had to align themselves with people of influence, people of power, and once surrounded, it could make one untouchable. So that’s what he does. Through the years he captains the polo team and is elected as the student union’s president, becoming a face that everyone on campus grew to know. There was no Hogwarts without Lucius Malfoy at its core. He proves that it is not his mind but his personality, his connections, his popularity, that will take him further than the rest.

Even after he left university, his public engagements still took center stage. While he didn’t excel at math or the sciences and couldn’t remember history too well, he was an excellent communicator, an eloquent and genuine speaker, a passionate debater ( though, he was prone to get off topic from time to time ). Lucius is charming, personable, with a million-watt smile and an approachable disposition, clean shaven and well-coiffed – it’s no wonder he shines when it comes to ensuring Triple M’s image looks as pristine and as golden as he is, leaving the brunt work to his parents and their board of directors as he acts as the face of their multi-million dollar brand. Cutting ribbons and signing checks for the cameras to snap pictures of. 

He glides through social events – premieres, parties, charity polo matches – giving a grin here, a wink there, and he is loved. Oh, he is loved. Everyone wanting a picture with the heir to boost their Instagram following, to shake his hand so his infectious energy and immense luck might rub off onto their skin, to clink their glass with his own in celebration of life, to share in the experience that is Lucius Malfoy – as all things are rather dull until his arrival. Such ability to slip into circles with a smile, to evoke adoration with a few strung words – this is why Tom Riddle kept a keen eye on the Malfoy heir. He can wrap up the Death Eaters and their cause in glittering paper and make it seem like a gift to be inducted into the ranks, an honor bestowed by the most elusive man in London, known only by his shadow and the billowing of his long black coat. It’s why Lucius has been given the task of recruitment – a meaningful tap on the shoulder given, a lavish dinner party invitation issued to those of promise. The preservation of their upper-class livelihood is imperative.

INTERVIEW:

He arrives to the interview just on time, mere seconds before he’s expected – as per the gilded Rolex wrapped around his left wrist. God help anyone who dared to think Lucius Malfoy was anything but punctual. You hear the tell-tale click of hard-bottom oxfords against linoleum tile as he comes, followed by the rich sound of his laughter – because he’s happy to be here, happy to do the feature piece. The Daily Prophet made it a big to-do as he granted them above all others the first official interview with him after launching FlooNet.

When he enters, he appears as if wading through water, gliding his way through the room with easy footfalls, carless to the world and it’s worries as he has none of his own. He’s in blue – a pastel, Easter egg tone – and his skin looks tanner against the shade. If his instagram was anything to go off of, he’d just returned from holiday in Tahiti. The journalist makes a note to inquire into his trip later.

After taking a seat, neatly resting an ankle atop his right knee, he gasps softly as a woman enters, a steaming hot cup of coffee in her hands. “You’re a darling, Charlotte, thank you,” he tells her, that million-watt smile spared for the secretary as she exited the room, an unmistakable pink tinge having risen in her cheeks as she closed the door quietly behind her. When asked if they’ve met before, he shakes his head, grin still in place, saying only five minutes ago, adding that the girl needed a raise for her exceptional latte making. The heir seems to almost forget he’s being interviewed, that is, until the questions begin…

i. How do you feel about your current occupation?

Contentedly sipping his coffee, Lucius plucks a near-invisible bit of lint off his trousers, the room silent for a few beats. “Oh,” he realizes, having caught the journalists expectant gaze, “I didn’t know we started.” An easy laugh escapes him, and it shakes the broad line of his shoulders with his short-lived amusement. “Okay – yes, well – I don’t think I complain, can I? I’m considered one of the rather lucky ones.” With an entire company in his name, so many people his age don’t get to inherit a legacy like this. It is not often that he counts his blessings, but this time he’s prompted to. “I work with my family, I work with a great team and they’re so helpful to me, because making decisions is difficult by yourself. Plus…” he trails off, lips pursed as if to chase off the beginnings of a smile. “My name’s on a big shiny building. And that’s pretty cool.”

ii. What song would you say describes yourself?

His attention drifts upwards, eyes fixed on the ceiling ( there’s a water stain up there that distracts him momentarily, but he pulls it back ), mentally raking through the Spotify playlist currently connected by USB cable to his valet-parked BMW i8 outside. A crack of a grin begins to form as he catches the melody of the song in his head, but not much else. Concentration knitting his brow as he begins to hum the beginning of the song, head bobbing steadily as his confidence in it’s sound grew. “Hundred deep when I roll…like…the army?  Come on. It’s that song.” He prompts the interviewer with an encouraging flourish of his hand. “You know it. By that guy.” The journalist’s expression is pinched in confusion, her head shaking slowly, warily as she tried to connect the poorly drawn dots that Lucius created.

When he reaches his car after the interview, it is then that it dawns on him that the song was ‘Wow.’ by Post Malone.

iii. Does reputation matter to you?

“Of course.” Of all the questions thus far, this one requires the least thought. Something that Lucius is grateful for, until he notes the woman’s pen stopping – she expects to hear him elaborate. “A name is all a man has, in the end. You know who said that?” Lucius doesn’t give her a moment to answer. “My father. He said that when you strip away the cars and the clothes and all those things, you have your name, and who you are. And it’s like – what do people think about when they hear it? Do they think good things? Bad things?” He takes a sip of coffee, gives a half-hearted lift of his shoulder, “I like to think people think good things of mine.”

iv. What is your relationship with your parents like?

Tongue darting out to wet his lips, Lucius pauses for a moment, wishing to craft an appropriate response about his parents that didn’t divulge too much and didn’t prompt further question either. His Public Relations manager discussed this with him on numerous accounts – his amicable nature causing him to unintentionally divulge a bit more than he intends. “Many say my mother and I are quite alike,” he admits, that much, he is honest about, “We’re very close.” He nods, sharing a small smile with the interviewer. “And my father, well – I think I’ve always wanted to be like him. Make him proud, and I think I have that chance to really do that with Triple M and my philanthropic work. He’s always been passionate about those things, and so am I.” Perfect, he can hear his parents echoing somewhere in the back of his mind. A perfect response.

v. What languages can you speak?

“English.” The response is stated with an upward inflection, an invisible question mark hanging between them. Dark eyes squint at the apparent obviousness of such an answer to the question. But he almost forgets to add,  “Malay too – but only with my mother and her side of the family. Cousins, aunts, that sort of thing. That’s where she’s from, you see. Malaysia.” Another pause. “Oh! And I learned BSL in school, after my nightmare with French. Truly. Croissant and Bonjour are the only things I can say with confidence. But I only got to use it when we did that new tech ward project for St. Mungo’s – there were quite a few deaf children there receiving therapy and such. They were rather excited that I knew how to speak to them.”

vi. If your home was on fire and you could only save one item, what would you choose?

“Which one?” Lucius’ response is immediate, brows pinched together in clear and present alarm that almost seemed wrong on his until-then pleasant features. “Is it the summer one in Singapore? Or is it this one here in England?” The interviewer grows silent, unsure of how to respond, settling with a ‘it can be either one.’ “But it depends which one I’m in as to what I would save,” Lucius frets, visibly distressed. He raises a hand to rub at his left temple, the question already a frustrating one to him. “This is too much,” he gives a flippant flourish of his hand, dismissing it at once, “Can I have another question?”

vii. Which Hogwarts University faculty did you study at? The Gryffindor School of Applied Science, the Ravenclaw School of Humanities, the Slytherin School of Social Science, or the Hufflepuff School of Art?

“This I can answer,” he’s toothily grinning once more, a firm nod given, the previous inquiry and it’s stress already flying out of his head. “I studied Business at the Slytherin School. And it was hardly an easy program, let me tell you. Financial management? Economics?Accounting. Accounts receivable still makes me ill, to this day. Which, is why I give my finance team at Triple M all the credit in the world.”

vix. What is your social media username?

“@LuciusAMalfoy. Follow me. Follow us, @TripleM, @TheDailyProphet.” The heir doesn’t even think about how he instantly goes into marketing mode, pushing the company social medias. “FlooNet, Twitter, Instagram – our social team and journalists are rather engaged with the masses.”

[nate-walsh]

all-time top 10 albums, #1: Old 97′s – Too Far to Care

Kelley tagged me in one of those Facebook things that’s been going around, where you list your top 10 all-time favorite, most important, influential albums, 1 each day, and then tag someone in turn. 

I am loathe to inflict my social media presence on people that much, but it is an interesting question, and I am kind of low on interests lately, so it feels like I should go where the blood is flowing, you know? I spent like 2 hours thinking about this yesterday, pretty sure, and that’s more than I think about anything. 

The ask specifically said “no need to explain,” but the explaining feels like the fun part to me, so time to crack this old fucker open again. BLOG DOT NATE WALSH DOT COM – REBORN

Also, pretty sure I am also going to do way more than 10 albums, lol.

OK, first one’s easy. This is the first album that was Mine. Up until the point I discovered it (Spring 2003), I’d mostly been relying on other people’s taste in music. My parents. Justin. My much cooler high school girlfriend Lisa. Fucking Pitchfork. And I got some amazing things out of the deal, to be sure. But it wasn’t really my taste, was it. I was just cribbing from people cooler than me. Which is what you do, and what I still do, honestly. But this was the first album that really felt like it came fully from my own opinions and volition. (Although, to be fair, Lisa Yung still had a hand in it, god damn it.)

The story actually starts way earlier. In 1998, a fairly forgettable dark comedy called Clay Pigeons was in theaters, starring Vince Vaughn and Joaquin Phoenix and Janeane Garofalo. (No real need to see it, it’s not very good.) But! In the trailer, there was this SONG, man. This kind of frantic panicked countryish punky song with this driving drum and some passionate man wailing away and this crazed fucking guitar that sound like it was spiraling out of control. It immediately caught my ear and made me perk up every time the trailer came on (which wasn’t for very long – like I said, it wasn’t a very popular movie).

I wasn’t the song-finding expert that I am today, though. Now, even with the power of Shazam at my disposal, I’m still always drunkenly scrawling down half-heard lyrics in the hopes of finding them later. The fucking internet did exist in 1998, and I definitely could have looked the song up, or bought the soundtrack, or had my parents rent the movie at some point. But it wasn’t where my head was at yet. I didn’t find songs. I got them from other people. BUT. The little earworm stuck around in the back of my mind.

Cut to 5 years later, and I’m dating Lisa, who had WAY better taste than me and was always aggressively pursuing music and then aggressively filtering it out to others. Lisa was a total hipster, but she kind of taught me how to do music, and for that, I am endlessly grateful (even if it means I’m also always going to have some inherent snobbiness as a result). 

So, at this point, I was still mostly stealing things from her – I don’t know if you know, but there is an insane, horrifying amount of music out there, and I was over my head just trying to get even mildly up to speed – but! The skills were beginning to develop. And that damn song was still in the back of my mind. (Point of fact, I briefly thought I’d discovered it in one of Lisa’s recommendations – Pavement’s “No Life Singed Her” shares some of its DNA, I don’t think I’m wrong about this.)

Anyway, it really started one night Lisa and I were out renting movies, and I saw Clay Pigeons at the store, and it all came flooding back. Crazy eager to finally get to the bottom of this, I rented the thing, and there it was, the song, right there over the opening credits. Lisa knew who it was by – of course Lisa knew who it was by – so I did a little research on the album and literally the next day I ran to the college record store and got it and played it and omg it’s finally mine the song is finally fucking mine. 

It’s called “Timebomb,” by the way, and it remains to this day legit pretty incredible. I think its mania is really what’s always done it for me – shit starts off in high gear and only gets more frenetic. The damn thing sounds like it’s gonna spin off its wheels any second. Which, if you know anything about me and my Emotions, I definitely could relate to. 

And, honestly, things did just kind of spin out from there. I was, not surprisingly, kind of a mess my freshman year. I was discovering breakups and huge, painful crushes and the first real glimpses of my anxiety and depression and my giant fucking wellspring of feelings. And all of that chaos needed a soundtrack – my own soundtrack, not some Counting Crows bullshit I’d heard on the radio (although they are also kind of amazing, and I apologize for having just said that). I’d finally found my own thing, on my own (OK, with some training wheels from Lisa), and I embraced the band with a obsessive desperation that has honestly kind of become a pattern with me over time.

This band, though. They were the balm I needed in these tumultuous times, fucking smart and sad and romantic and crazed and angry and vain and a mess and basically all the things I saw myself as, plus this bonus rad cowboy twang and punk energy that I definitely came to fetishize on some level. (There’s a reason I’m living in Austin, y’all.) Again, not surprisingly, I like people who bother with language, who aren’t afraid to mess around with irony and fucking SAT words and how phrases sounds, who use it to both convey and cover up all their big sloppy feelings – and they were the ones who kind of showed me how it was done. (They’re also super easy to sing along to with a middling voice, which is pretty key for me.) 

And so, like any good convert, I began to frantically seek out other works and overanalyze their meanings and aggressively proselytize to friends and actively track them down so I could stare at them with big eyes like a crazy person. 

Which we would wind up doing quite a bit over the next couple years. Me and my also-converted friends were always hanging around after shows, trying to meet the band, to con them into drinking with us and being our friends. I don’t think they ever remembered us between concerts – even when we did insane shit like write their names on our bodies and make WWE-style posters touting various slogans for band members. (”RHETT 3:16,” “STEWART ‘HANDSOME’ MILLER,” “RAW IS WAR”). Which is another one of those consistent patterns for me. I always hope they’ll see just how much I love them, and remember, and maybe love me, too, but it’s never really how it goes. Kind of a one-sided crush, honestly. 

Anyway, this album. They really have a lot of great ones I could get into, but even if this weren’t my first, it’d be my favorite. It’s the right balance between twang and punk, because earnestness and cleverness, confidence and misery, love and anger. Rhett Miller (the lead singer, songwriter, and primary presence in the band) is beautiful and brilliant and kind of a show-off (he’s always doing windmill guitar strums and flying leaps around the stage), and he’s balanced by the rest of the band, who are all hypercapable and considerably more balanced and whose names I also know and/or have had written on my body.

Funny story: As a direct result of this album and this band, I met and dated someone for like 2 years. We lived 8 hours away and met randomly halfway in-between, in St. Louis, at each of our first respective Old 97′s concerts. We noticed each other because we the 2 people both freaking out the proper level. The thing ended up going horribly, because I was pretty horrible at the time, but that’s pretty neat that that happened. 

I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I’m just kind of frantically gushing. 

I love loving things a lot, as it turns out. As obnoxious as my emotions can be sometimes, the good ones are huge and worth it. I’ve had no shortage of crushes, and as it turns out, it can apply to bands, and while this wasn’t my first, it was my first big one. And there’s something really, really fun about that, just being bonkers over something to the point where you can’t fully keep track of yourself. 

It’s not really the same these days, of course. The band changed, and I did, and our paths don’t really overlap the way they once did. They don’t have as much to be loud and emotional about, and I guess I don’t really either. But, I still see them most times they’re in town, and this album still catches me by surprise when it comes up, just how much energy and feeling and intelligence it has in it.

And, of course, the fact that it’s fucking mine.

P.S. I would note the “key tracks” or whatever, but one of my criteria for this exercise is that they all be kind of fucking key.

SEE ALSO:

Old 97′s – Satellite Rides. Much poppier – and arguably more shallow for it – but sometimes you want that buoyant feeling. (”What I Wouldn’t Do,” “King of All the World,” “Buick City Complex” in particular.)

Old 97′s – Hitchhike to Rhome. Way twanger – definitely feels more like a country album, but sometimes you want that, too. (”St. Ignatius,” “Hands Off”)

Old 97′s – Wreck Your Life. Maybe their angriest album. “Over the Cliff” inspired my plans for old age. (”Victoria,” “Dressing Room Walls,” “Doreen”)

[s3661125-blog]

STATE LIBRARY VICTORIA

The “State Library of Victoria” is located along Swanston St, Melbourne opposite of Melbourne Central. The Library attracts an array of visitors including; students, business women and men and tourists. An approximate 2 million people visit annually and 4.3 million online! What makes this library unique is its large collection of photographs, posters, letters, diaries and even historical paintings. According to Des Cowley, the rare books manager “The library has over 2.5 million books all told, along with a million photographs and nine kilometres of manuscripts.” The Library has a rich history, dating back to 1853 when it was first established as the “Melbourne Public Library”. The building was first designed by Joseph Reed, who won the opportunity to do so through a competition held by the trustees. It was one of the first ever free Libraries worldwide for people over the age of 14. Initially, the Library was one main building comprising of the “Queens room” and “Vestibule”, now there are 23 separate buildings, spanning up to a whole block! The Library has a grand exterior and interior. The style is considered “Victorian Period Academic Classical”. This classical style contrasts starkly against the modern metropolitan city surrounding the library. The tan “Tasmanian freestone” and “Sandstone” exterior stands out against dark skyscrapers and the vibrant grassy lawn in front of the entrance. The lawn invites students ( including me) and others to stop by, relax and have lunch. Academic Classical architecture is quite a specified design for buildings in Australia. This kind of design is typically seen in public buildings and monuments built from 1860's onwards. Important features from this design era focus on symmetry ( especially the facades of the building)  and the overall mass of the building. The classical style was used with more freedom after the Victorian era until it faded out around the time of the Great Depression. The entrance way of the Library comprises of 8 large pillars, emphasising its classical style. On either side, you have the north and south wings which are also lined with large columns and arched windows. This strong sense of line and repetition creates a balance on either side of the building, creating symmetry and a harmonious impression. The key elements draw our attention to how the architecture also references back to ancient Greek and Roman times. The scale of the building generates a sense of grandeur and wealth, sparking an interest from observers to explore it within.  Before entering the building, its simplicity and beauty are expressed to us. What's not as easy to see as the rest of the exterior, is the large octagonal dome that rises about 4 stories high behind the main building entrance. The solidity and structural manner of this dome characterise the Victorian Classical style of design. As said earlier, the SLV has many different rooms and spaces for their own purposes, the main ones being: The Latrobe reading room and the Redmond Barry reading room.The Latrobe reading room is most impressive, particularly because of its domed ceiling and it has four floors. The dome is 114 ft in diameter and 114 ft high. Natural light is able to pass through the glass windows easily, inviting people to sit and work in warmth. The bright white walls as well as the flood of light that comes through the ceiling windows, introduces a refreshing energy into the room, encouraging others to study or read.  Personally, my attention was captured by the magnificent geometry of not only the dome but the room itself. The use of line and shape come together to create a perfectly balanced and organised environment. Whilst the mass volume and grand state of this room may be intimidating, a sense of warmth produced from the beautiful brown timber desks, chairs, floor and lights. It is these features that welcome anyone into the room and have the power to inspire. The Redmond Barry reading room was originally an industrial and technological museum and displayed many taxidermies of animals. It was refurbished and reopened in 2004 and houses a non-fiction collection of books and also includes magazines and journals.  In terms of its design, it is quite similar to the Latrobe reading room with exception to the dome of course. Natural light plays a key role and is able to pass through the ceiling windows as well as arched ones on either side of the carefully curved ceiling. Whilst the ceiling is not as impressive in size compared to the other room, the architectural framework and glass windows of the ceiling still make an impression. Again, geometry and use of line in this room contribute to its balanced structure.  From these elements, I feel calmed and focused. The interior painting of this room is a creamy colour, making the room subdued and less bright than the Latrobe reading room. Deep brown timber columns line the two-floor levels on either side matching the dark timber floorboards. This minimal and darker colour palette creates a tranquil and quiet atmosphere, encouraging a good work ethic. Whilst the library is already most impressive, it has been undergoing the project “Vision 2020”, a plan to refurbish the building with funding help from the Victorian Government. “Vision 2020 is an approximate $88.1 billion dollar project and begun in around 2017. The envisions for this plan includes expanding the library's capacity by 40 %, transforming the “Queens Room” into a public reading room, creating a dedicated children's space and much more. Hopefully, in the future, this will allow for an even more educational, interactive and suitable space for people of all ages. Reference: (Chronological) "State Library Of Victoria - A Cultural Icon", Urban Melbourne,  date accessed: 26/03/2018, https://urban.melbourne/culture/2013/05/21/state-library-victoria-cultural-icon.  "State Library Of Victoria", Wikipedia, last edited 21st March 2018, date accessed: 26/03/2018, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/State_Library_of_Victoria. "History And Vision", State Library Victoria, date accessed: 26/03/2018, https://www.slv.vic.gov.au/about-us/history-and-vision. "Academic Classical Architecture Australia", Third-i-studio, date accessed: 26/03/2018, http://www.thirdistudio.com.au/Australian_Architecture_Academic_Classical.html "Australian Non-Residential Architectural Styles", Wikipedia,. Last edited 26th March 2018, date accessed: 26/03/2018, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Australian_non-residential_architectural_styles. "Looking At Buildings: Classical Architecture", Looking at buildings,  25th April 2009, date accessed: 27/03/2018, http://www.lookingatbuildings.org.uk/styles/classical.html.    "Beyond The Dome: Discover The Secrets Of Victoria's 160Yo State Library"., ABC news, 11th February 2016,  date accessed: 27/03/2018, http://www.abc.net.au/news/2016-02-11/behind-closed-doors-as-state-library-of-victoria-turns-160/7157100. "Research Guides: The History Of The State Library Of Victoria: The Dome", State library Victoria,  last updated April 6th 2018, date accessed: 28/03/2018, https://guides.slv.vic.gov.au/slvhistory/dome. "Our Magnificent Spaces", State Library Victoria, date accessed : 1/04/2018, https://www.slv.vic.gov.au/search-discover/our-magnificent-spaces.  "Research Guides: The History Of The State Library Of Victoria: Architecture", State library Victoria, last updated: 6th April 2018, date accessed: 28/03/2018, https://guides.slv.vic.gov.au/slvhistory/architecture. “State library of Victoria Redevelopment”, State library Victoria, date accessed: 1/04/2018, https://vision2020.slv.vic.gov.au/.

Images:

2nd image:  "Our Magnificent Spaces", State Library Victoria, date accessed : 1/04/2018, https://www.slv.vic.gov.au/search-discover/our-magnificent-spaces.

Latrobe reading room 

Latrobe reading room 

Redmond Barry reading room 

Redmond Barry reading room